30: The Three Pillars of Story Momentum: Writing Tension, Conflict & Stakes

Writers mix these three up all the time and it’s easy to see why.

They feel similar when you’re drafting. They all create movement. They all evoke emotion. They all keep readers hooked.

But they are not the same thing.

Understanding the distinction between writing tension, conflict, and stakes is one of the most reliable ways to elevate your storytelling. Once you know what each one is doing, you can place it intentionally where it needs to be. That’s when your scenes start working harder for you instead of against you.

Before we dive in, let’s get one thing straight:

Writing tension is emotional manipulation.

It’s the deliberate arrangement of information, emotion, and possibility to keep readers curious. Curiosity drives investment, and investment keeps readers turning pages long past bedtime.

Your job as the storyteller is to create the game that is your story. Your reader’s job is to play it. Tension, conflict, and stakes are the pieces of that game — the things that keep them playing.

Let’s explore how each of these works with a scene.

The Fundraiser Gala

POV: Lena, Event Coordinator

• Late 20s, highly capable on the outside, but running on caffeine, overthinking, and three hours of sleep.

• Recently promoted: this is her first major solo event, and she knows upper management is watching every detail.

• Not great with crowds: she can command a spreadsheet but hates being the centre of attention. Tonight, it’s all eyes on her.

• Money dysregulation: grew up in a low-income household, so seeing people casually donate $50,000 feels unheard of.

• Deep admiration for the guest of honour (her uncle and mentor): she wants the night to go perfectly for him.

• Complicated “almost something” with the gala’s head of security, Eli: they haven’t spoken in three weeks after a half-argument, half-confession neither followed up on.

• Her dress is rented and too tight. She’s convinced the zip will burst if she breathes wrong.

• There’s a VIP guest who intimidates her for reasons she won’t admit (mostly because he reminds her of her father).

The silent auction has just begun. Everything is running smoothly. Lena is doing her best to keep the event on schedule.

She’s checking the lighting cues when…

A man walks onto the stage mid-bidding.

• Unknown man: early 30s, impeccably dressed, boyish secretive smirk.

• Lena doesn’t recognize him though she barely knows three-quarters of the guest list.

• He holds a glass of champagne, his other hand buried deep in his pocket. He looks composed, polite, and absolutely sober.

He walks up quietly, no theatrics. Climbs the steps, stands in the middle of the stage as if he belongs there.

Everyone sees him.

The auctioneer stops talking.

The room goes silent. Confusion grips the space.

Lena’s hand tightens around her clipboard. This wasn’t part of her runsheet.

Eli steps closer, debating whether to intercept.

Her mentor sits at the center front table next to the VIP guest, their posture rigid.

Tension: The Possibility of What Could Happen

Tension is the invisible thread that tugs the reader forward. It’s not what is happening… it’s what might happen.

Think of tension as a question mark suspended in the air.

In the scene above, when an unknown man interrupts Lena’s prestigious auction, what pops into your head?

• Who is he?

• What is he doing on stage?

• Is he here to ruin the gala?

• Or is he here to contribute to the auction?

Tension is pure possibility. It’s the setup for the chaos to come. It’s delicious. And it’s essential.

Conflict: The Collision

If tension is the question, conflict is the answer.

Conflict occurs when two or more forces — people, goals, values, desires — collide. It’s the moment the hypothetical becomes reality.

Back at the gala:

• The mystery man stands on stage with a secretive, knowing smile.

• The guest of honour recognises him, stiffens.

• The man grabs the microphone from the auctioneer.

• He announces to the room that they are now his hostages.

• Eli moves to intercept.

• The man on stage pulls a gun and aims it at Eli.

This is conflict: two parties wanting different things in the same space, with no way to satisfy both.

The key? Well-executed conflict automatically renews tension. Every collision opens new questions, which creates new possibilities, which keeps readers hooked.

What questions arise now?

• Who is he?

• Why is he taking them hostage?

• What does he want?

• Will he pull the trigger?

Stakes: What Could Be Lost (or Won)

Stakes are the heartbeat of the story.

If tension and conflict create momentum, stakes create meaning.

Stakes are about risk. What’s on the line — emotionally, physically, relationally, morally, or materially?

• What does Lena stand to lose if her first solo event fails?

• What could she gain if it succeeds?

• What does she stand to lose if the man pulls the trigger?

• What could she gain if he doesn’t?

Stakes tap into competitive wiring. They make the story personal. They make it matter.

Without stakes, tension feels flat and conflict pointless. With stakes, every choice carries weight. Every outcome matters.

Bringing It All Together

Tension is about possibility.

Conflict is about collision.

Stakes are about consequences.

They’re distinct, but they work together like gears in the same machine. One sets up the next. The next deepens the last.

When you understand how each operates, you stop writing scenes that just “work” and start writing scenes that feel alive.

And that is the magic of storytelling.

Happy writing,

Renee Ella xx

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