Second, Crais added complications and obstacles at exactly the right places. Whenever something could go wrong, it did go wrong. Bad luck is compounded by more bad luck, which "forces" the bad guys to do more bad things to save themselves. There isn't a moment of rest for them-or for the reader.

The Four Outcomes A character wants something, something concrete in the here-and-now. Will he get it? There are four possible outcomes: "Yes," " No," "No, and furthermore," and "Yes, but."The first two outcomes do absolutely nothing to move the plot. do absolutely nothing to move the plot.

Think of the Jimmy Stewart character, George Bailey, in It's A Wonderful Life. It's A Wonderful Life. Thanks to his absent-minded uncle, he's lost a huge sum of money belonging to the investors in his savings and loan company. So he goes to the richest man in town, played by Lionel Barrymore, and asks for the money he needs. Thanks to his absent-minded uncle, he's lost a huge sum of money belonging to the investors in his savings and loan company. So he goes to the richest man in town, played by Lionel Barrymore, and asks for the money he needs.

Barrymore could say yes: "Sure, for an old friend like you, anything." Jimmy gets the money, his uncle stays out of the loony bin, his investors are repaid, and writer-director Frank Capra makes the shortest movie in Hollywood history. Jimmy never jumps off the bridge, never meets Clarence the angel, and the audience is cheated of the catharsis we bought our tickets to experience.

Or Lionel, the meanest man in town, says, "No." Just no. Nothing else. It doesn't help Jimmy, but the trouble is, it doesn't hurt him either. Think about it. If Lionel just says, "No," nothing more, then Jimmy hasn't lost anything by asking. He's no worse off than he was when he went in the door-which means the writer has wasted our time in presenting the scene. It doesn't move the story because it doesn't change the hero's essential position.

Which is why Capra has Lionel give a different answer. A simple "no" isn't mean enough for the meanest man in town. Instead, Capra has Barrymore say, "No, I won't give you the money, and furthermore, and furthermore, I'm going to personally see to it that you get sent to jail for fraud and your dotty uncle goes to the funny farm." I'm going to personally see to it that you get sent to jail for fraud and your dotty uncle goes to the funny farm." I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too. I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too.

Now we have movement. We've taken our hero from frying pan to fire; he's worse off than he would have been had he stayed home and tried to deal with the losses on his own. Capra has pushed George Bailey to the point where it seems right for him to stand on that bridge and jump in.

The "no, and furthermore" answer is one of the two outcomes that will move the story and fill the middle of your suspense novel with ever-deepening complications. Whatever your characters do in the middle of the book should not only fail, it should fail in such a way that it makes their situations actively worse than they were before.

Put enough "no, and furthermore" outcomes in your novel, and you'll soon have a nice thick middle, as your hero struggles to extricate herself from the fire and get back into that nice, safe frying pan.

What about the "yes, but"? This outcome presents interesting possibilities. What if Lionel had said to Jimmy: "Sure you can have the money, boy. I'll just take your soul in return." Now our hero must decide what's more important to him; if he takes Lionel up on his offer, the rest of the story will deal with the consequences of selling his soul and his belated realization that it wasn't such a good deal. There have been more than a few operas constructed on the "yes, but" outcome, and, when you come to think about it, all the "yes, but" outcomes involve the soul in one way or another.

The most interesting use of the "yes, but" outcome is the "yes" with a hidden "but." Our hero gladly accepts the "yes" part of the answer, and settles down in the comfortable belief that he's being helped. And then, when he least expects it, the hidden "but" pops up-and the hero is plunged into distrust and danger once again.

The Four Outcomes in Hostage Three guys go to rob a convenience store. Do they get away with the money? Hostage Three guys go to rob a convenience store. Do they get away with the money? Yes, but Yes, but they shot the owner, which means the stakes are higher than they'd planned. they shot the owner, which means the stakes are higher than they'd planned.

They decide to escape to Mexico. Do they make it? No, and furthermore No, and furthermore their car breaks down and they go in search of one to steal. their car breaks down and they go in search of one to steal.

Do they get that second car and make their getaway? No, and furthermore No, and furthermore they take hostages and kill a cop. At every turn, they dig themselves in deeper and deeper, which means they must take more and more drastic action that will keep the plot boiling. they take hostages and kill a cop. At every turn, they dig themselves in deeper and deeper, which means they must take more and more drastic action that will keep the plot boiling.

Yes, but the robbers aren't the heroes. How do the Four Outcomes affect Jeff Talley?

After losing the hostage in the prologue, all Talley wants is a quiet life without major responsibility. Does he get it?

No, and furthermore, a store owner and one of his own cops are shot, and furthermore and furthermore, he's about to be dragged back into a hostage negotiation situation, and furthermore- and furthermore- This is only chapter one. The stakes will ratchet up throughout the book, and the mechanism by which they ratchet is the Four Outcomes scenario.

And if you think that's the end of the "yes, but" and "no, and furthermore" outcomes in this book, you'll soon find out that every scene in the book ends with one of the two plot-moving outcomes. every scene in the book ends with one of the two plot-moving outcomes. Even the ones that look like simple Even the ones that look like simple noes noes and and yesses yesses will turn out to have hidden will turn out to have hidden buts buts and and further-mores further-mores lurking inside. lurking inside.

Suspense Writing One more reason why this story moves so quickly: the pace of the writing.

What does that mean?

It means, first and foremost, that the prose is spare. Crais gives us just exactly as much information as we need to understand this moment in time and nothing more. There are no "extras" here, no long descriptive pa.s.sages or internal monologues. We do go inside people's heads from time to time, but for the most part, they think about what's happening now, now, not what happened in the past. To the extent that the past enters into their thoughts, it's for a few short paragraphs and it's directly related to something happening in the present. not what happened in the past. To the extent that the past enters into their thoughts, it's for a few short paragraphs and it's directly related to something happening in the present.

One decision is quickly followed by consequences that lead to a second decision, new consequences, a third decision, etc. There isn't much time for contemplation between events; one event happens right on top of another like a twenty-car pile-up on the Santa Ana Freeway.

The dialogue is crisp, which means that people say exactly what they think in no more words than it takes to get the idea across. Everyone is businesslike, speaking to the point, which fits because there is much at stake and no time for small talk.

Paragraphs are short, sentences shorter. All these devices working together create a sense of urgency.

We have our hostage situation and our reluctant hostage negotiator. So what could make things worse at this point?

-The robbers discover that the house is equipped with a lot of cameras and monitors, which allow them to see what the cops are doing outside.

-Then they find the money. Lots and lots of money. We're on page 57; still well inside Arc One, and our plot has thickened into cement. They don't make any decisions about the money yet, but we readers have a pretty strong sense that this information changes things in ways we have yet to understand.

-Ten-year-old Thomas manages to whisper to his sister on page 60, "I know where Daddy has a gun." This is our first hint that the internal dynamics of the hostage crisis won't be Bambi vs. G.o.dzilla after all; it seems Bambi has a trick up his sleeve.

-We meet a mobster named Sonny Benza and learn that Thomas's daddy is his accountant. accountant. All of Benza's financial records are in the house, which is pretty serious because Benza is a big-time crook whose records could send a lot of people, including him, to jail. All of Benza's financial records are in the house, which is pretty serious because Benza is a big-time crook whose records could send a lot of people, including him, to jail.

-He doesn't want to go to jail.

Benza's records are in Smith's house and Smith's house is surrounded by cops. Once the hostage situation is resolved, cops will swarm all over that house and Sonny's enterprises will see the unwelcome light of day. Benza can see only one solution: to "own" the cop in charge of the case.

That's Talley. And that's the end of Part One. It's also Plot Point One and the end of Arc One. Let's look at the escalation process. We go from robbery to shooting to hostage taking to cop killing in very short order, and then we switch gears from the hostage situation to organized crime trying to cover itself by targeting Talley.

He thinks his biggest problem is holding on until other cops arrive to take over the hostage negotiation. his biggest problem is holding on until other cops arrive to take over the hostage negotiation. We know We know his biggest problem is whatever Benza is going to do to "own" him. That's why suspense rests on the reader being two steps ahead of the character. We antic.i.p.ate the trouble Talley doesn't even know is out there, and it heightens our emotional response to everything he does. his biggest problem is whatever Benza is going to do to "own" him. That's why suspense rests on the reader being two steps ahead of the character. We antic.i.p.ate the trouble Talley doesn't even know is out there, and it heightens our emotional response to everything he does.

Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k's famous story about the bomb under the table is relevant here. The great director said that the way to create suspense is to show a bomb under a card table and then show four men playing cards. The game could be the dullest thing imaginable, the dialogue could be flat, the scenery boring, but the audience is on the edge of their seats because they know what the card players don't: there's a bomb under the table. there's a bomb under the table. Every time someone shifts in his seat or gets up from the table, the audience wants to shout: " Every time someone shifts in his seat or gets up from the table, the audience wants to shout: "Get out of there!"

By showing Benza making plans to "own" Talley, Crais has let the audience know there's a bomb under our hero.

He detonates it in Arc Two.

Arc Two_ P.G. Wodehouse, who in addition to his wonderful Jeeves books wrote musical comedies in the twenties, gave the following advice about what to do in the middle of your story. "Never," Sir Pelham advised, "let anyone sit down in the second act."

And if you think of a cla.s.sic farce-whether it's a play by Moliere, a Bertie Wooster/Jeeves novel, or a Marx Brothers movie-you see at once how effective that advice is. Doors open and skimpily dressed blondes pop out just when the gimlet-eyed aunt is visiting. The maid is found in the closet with the constable from the village. The pompous banker mistakenly believes the chorus girl is an heiress and treats her accordingly- and then mistakes the real heiress for a gold-digging chorus girl. Complications are set in motion that will cause the second-act curtain to come down on a scene of hilarious confusion.

Think of suspense as farce without the laughs. Something must be happening to your hero at all times; even moments of seeming safety must be fraught with possible danger. Will the peace last? Can this old friend be trusted? Will the police act, or have they been corrupted by the evil opponent? Can we cross the border into Poland or will the customs officials spot our phony pa.s.sports?

The Pendulum The middle of a suspense novel is a swinging pendulum of emotion. The hero veers wildly between trust and distrust, safety and danger. In the cla.s.sic movie Suspicion, Suspicion, the wife alternates between blind trust in her husband and suspicion that he married her for money. The pendulum swings against the husband when she learns things that lead her to believe he is trying to kill her. He continually a.s.sures her of his love, but every time she relaxes into a normal, loving relationship, something else happens to rouse her suspicion. the wife alternates between blind trust in her husband and suspicion that he married her for money. The pendulum swings against the husband when she learns things that lead her to believe he is trying to kill her. He continually a.s.sures her of his love, but every time she relaxes into a normal, loving relationship, something else happens to rouse her suspicion.

The middle of a fairy tale involves tasks and tests the hero must perform in order to win the princess. The tasks increase in danger and difficulty until finally the hero emerges triumphant over his older, stronger brothers. The same pattern exists in the suspense novel; the hero practices for the final confrontation by overcoming challenges from lesser opponents or by escaping from imprisonment. In some cases, the hero fails the early tests and appears to be on the verge of failing the final test as well. A certain amount of trial and error makes an interesting middle-book as your hero learns the skills he will need to confront the opponent in the end. And of course, a hero who has failed once or even twice creates a great deal of suspense as he goes for the third try. (Note the magic number three, a powerful number in fairy tales.) Isolate Your Hero One of the tests a suspense hero must deal with is the increasing isolation from his or her usual support system. This is a vital element in a good suspense novel. Your hero can't go to the police; they don't believe him when he complains he's being followed by a man who is never there when they come around to check on his complaint. Your hero's friends and lovers tell her she has to "get over it" and refuse to believe that she's been threatened by a man no one else has ever seen. The hero's isolation may begin earlier, but it is deepened to the point where she is wholly alone in the middlebook. One by one, her supports fail her. One by one, the social structures she has always depended on disappear or turn actively hostile. Why?

Think about it. First, our hero needs to grow up, to make a transition from one stage of life to another. She must be forced to fall back on her own inner resources when facing the ultimate challenge. If she has too much help, we won't believe in the transformation. Second, our hero is on a quest for the elixir, and we won't think she's earned it if she hasn't gone through h.e.l.l. If she has too much help and support, it's not h.e.l.l, it's purgatory at best; and that just doesn't cut it, elixir-wise.

The most important reason to strip away all your hero's old supports: if all the characters inside the book are lost to her, who's left?

Clap if you believe in fairies.

That's the ultimate reason why our hero must face these tests alone: because the one person left who believes in her isn't in the book at all. It's the reader, and the close identification with the hero you want your reader to feel can only come about if the hero is truly alone. Surround your hero with friends and you lose the intense identification that makes true suspense so compelling.

d.i.c.k Francis does this to perfection in Nerve. Nerve. The premise of the book is that a young jockey, Rob Finn, is suspected of losing his nerve- and as a result, losing races. The first time he loses a race, he is publicly scolded by the horse's owner. As his luck worsens, the rumor that he's lost his nerve flies around the track. Other jockeys avoid him, and bettors and owners castigate him. Finally, he loses the confidence of the owner he's been riding for; his dream of being a winning jockey seems all but over. As if that weren't enough, he is called a coward by a television commentator and his failure is gloated over by his enemies. The premise of the book is that a young jockey, Rob Finn, is suspected of losing his nerve- and as a result, losing races. The first time he loses a race, he is publicly scolded by the horse's owner. As his luck worsens, the rumor that he's lost his nerve flies around the track. Other jockeys avoid him, and bettors and owners castigate him. Finally, he loses the confidence of the owner he's been riding for; his dream of being a winning jockey seems all but over. As if that weren't enough, he is called a coward by a television commentator and his failure is gloated over by his enemies.

Hitting Bottom But Francis isn't finished taking his hero down the path to h.e.l.l, because the real h.e.l.l isn't what other people, however influential and important to Rob emotionally, think of him. Rob hits bottom the day he looks in the mirror and questions himself: Are they right? Have I really lost my nerve?

The isolation brought about by others turning on him leads to that moment, for if Rob had the confidence of even one friend, he might never stand before that mirror. And for us, the readers, to have the full experience of hitting bottom, of facing our inner demons, we need to be alone with Rob.

Rob decides that, no, he has not lost his nerve. He is the same rider he always was-which means that his trouble comes from without and has been engineered by someone else. He makes a conscious decision to find out who that person is and pay him back. This is the turning point of the novel-and it happens in the middle of the book.

Rift Within the Team Stories that involve confrontations between two organized groups use Rift Within the Team as a middlebook suspense generator. Each team has an overarching goal: win the murder case, for example. The prosecution wants to convict, the defense to prove innocence. The district attorney answers to supervisors who may have very different ideas on how to conduct the case, creating Rifts Within the Prosecution Team. The defense lawyer may have an a.s.sistant who's really selling him out to the D.A. or a witness who's accepted a bribe to change her testimony. Rifts Within the Team allow conflict, suspense, mini-arcs, and mini-goals to take place before the big confrontation between the two teams.

One example of Rift Within the Two Teams can be found in Tom Clancy's The Hunt for Red October. The Hunt for Red October. There are two major focal points: Red Sub and U.S. Sub. They are in potential conflict, and There are two major focal points: Red Sub and U.S. Sub. They are in potential conflict, and inside each sub inside each sub there is internal conflict. The Red Sub conflict is that its captain wants to defect to the U.S. and some of his men aren't in sympathy with that aim. The U.S. Sub conflict is that its captain believes the Red Sub captain and wants to help him defect, while most of his men think the Red Sub is out to destroy them. there is internal conflict. The Red Sub conflict is that its captain wants to defect to the U.S. and some of his men aren't in sympathy with that aim. The U.S. Sub conflict is that its captain believes the Red Sub captain and wants to help him defect, while most of his men think the Red Sub is out to destroy them.

Red Sub answers to Moscow; U.S. Sub to Washington, D.C., creating two lesser focal points. In Moscow and in D.C. there are internal conflicts as well. Four focal points = four places for internal conflict, and that's on top of on top of the essential to-the-death conflict the essential to-the-death conflict between between the Reds and the U.S. forces. the Reds and the U.S. forces.

Rift Within the Team keeps suspense high even when the two major forces aren't in direct conflict with one another. Because, let's face it, once the two major forces are in direct conflict with one another, we're at the end of the story. Someone will win, someone will lose, and it's over. You can't let that happen in chapter nine, so you delay the major conflict and play out a bunch of smaller, but still exciting, conflicts within each team. The key is that these internal conflicts must relate directly to the overall conflict. these internal conflicts must relate directly to the overall conflict.

How does Rift Within the Team occur in Robert Crais's Hostage? Hostage?

The sheriff's department leader, Martin, moves too fast, sending cops into the perimeter (remember, the robbers can see it all on the security system monitors). The robbers freak out and threaten to burn down the house. Talley and Martin exchange heated words, and Talley has to stick around to save the deteriorating situation. He's dragged back into hostage negotiating in spite of himself.

Rift Within the Team creates slippage. A not-bad status quo, such as the one Talley reached with the hostage takers, can move backwards into something worse, which then gives our hero the chance to reclaim the former status quo as a victory without the writer having to ratchet things further.

What am I talking about?

We've had threats to the kids. We've had a murdered cop. We've had a near-fatal attack on Daddy. What can Crais do to top this?

Well, he could have one of the robbers kill or injure one of the kids.

But he doesn't want to. He needs Thomas to be able to move through those crawl s.p.a.ces and find that cell phone, and he's got bigger plans for Jennifer later in the book.

So instead he sends in the cops, creating a moment of terror that the robbers will find Thomas out of bed (he's gone to look for Daddy's gun), and then resolves the situation by putting things back pretty much the way they were before. It's a lateral move, yet our hearts pound while Thomas creeps back to his room and our blood boils at the high-handed new cop. With any luck, we don't notice that in the end nothing really changes in the end nothing really changes in the dynamic between cops and hostage takers. in the dynamic between cops and hostage takers.

Raising the Stakes Remember Sonny Benza and his dangerous tax records? Remember how he said he was going to "own" Talley?

We meet a man named Marion Clewes, and we get to watch him eat a fly. Leg by leg, wing by wing.

He's the guy Sonny sends to grab Talley's wife and daughter.

We know what Talley doesn't: that throughout the entire Rift Within the Team business, his wife and kid are headed for Nightmare City.

Talley learns about his family's kidnapping in chapter fourteen, when he's told that they will be killed if he doesn't retrieve two zip disks from Smith's house.

And, by the way, this is Midpoint, page 192 of a 373-page book.

The man who hoped never again to negotiate a hostage situation now faces two at once: the robbers inside the house, and his own family in the hands of a psycho killer. his own family in the hands of a psycho killer.

Talk about "no, and furthermore."

Arc Three _ The astute will realize that all of Arc Two was in fact setup for this moment, and yet as you read the book, you aren't wondering when something exciting is going to happen, because it's already happening. By using mini-goals, mini-arcs, rifts within the team, lateral action, and the four outcomes, Crais has kept us on the edge of our seats while we waited for the bomb to go off.

Arc Three is where the hero becomes proactive. He's been reacting to whatever the villain's been throwing at him (like d.i.c.k Francis's hero in Nerve), Nerve), and now he's. .h.i.t bottom, faced the worst that could happen (at least in his own mind), and now he's going to bring it home to the bad guy. He's not going to sit around being made a victim any longer; he's arming himself and going into the lion's den. and now he's. .h.i.t bottom, faced the worst that could happen (at least in his own mind), and now he's going to bring it home to the bad guy. He's not going to sit around being made a victim any longer; he's arming himself and going into the lion's den.

That's one template for Arc Three. It's a very common one, and it works if Arc Two was a pa.s.sive, taking-it-on-the chin arc. That's what happens in a number of stalking-oriented tales because it takes a while for the ordinary person to accept that she's being stalked, that what's happening to her is on purpose and not just random urban weirdness. This process is helped along by all those friends and allies who keep telling her, "It's just kids, honey," or "It's all in your head." The police, too, blow her off, telling her there's nothing she can do and refusing to believe that charming ex-boyfriend is really a vicious killer. Even the heroine's husband tells her she "needs to get away for a while," humoring instead of believing her.

So when she finally accepts the reality of the stalking and the fact that she's in this alone, that's when she can become the hero by turning the tables and going after the villain.

Other suspense novels put the Midpoint action of hitting bottom at Plot Point Two. In these stories, the hero may go proactive earlier, only he fails, usually spectacularly. He may fail because his heart wasn't pure, or because he's missing a crucial piece of information, or because he's after the wrong goal. That failure brings him to the hitting-bottom stage, and the experience renews him, teaches him the right goal, or gives the hidden piece of information he needs to make it all work.

In Hostage, Hostage, Arc Three finds Talley back in charge of the hostage situation and so desperate to resolve it that he pushes too hard. He uses his superb negotiating skills to get the injured Smith out of the house, but his motive isn't to save the Smith children, but his own wife and child. He's so single-minded that he actually a.s.saults Smith inside the ambulance, trying to bring the man to consciousness so he can be questioned. Arc Three finds Talley back in charge of the hostage situation and so desperate to resolve it that he pushes too hard. He uses his superb negotiating skills to get the injured Smith out of the house, but his motive isn't to save the Smith children, but his own wife and child. He's so single-minded that he actually a.s.saults Smith inside the ambulance, trying to bring the man to consciousness so he can be questioned.

Smith's trip to the hospital changes everything for Benza as well. Now Benza not only has to retrieve the disks with his information on them, he has to silence Smith before he starts talking. This gives Crais two places to focus our attention: the home where the hostage drama is being enacted, and the hospital where Smith lies vulnerable and unprotected. Splitting the Team is another middlebook ploy in the suspense novel; by doubling the locations where events happen, the writer can double the number of suspenseful moments.

Marion Clewes the fly-eater makes an attempt to kill Smith in the hospital. Talley saves Smith's life, then tells Smith that Benza has his own wife and daughter. He begs for help, but Smith refuses to talk.

Benza's henchman calls with a new, improved plan. His people will show up at the Smith house pretending to be FBI and Talley will let them take over and go into the house first so they can get the disks.

We're coming into the home stretch (page 278, about 100 to go) and the players are all gathering in one place for the showdown.

Inside the house, Thomas finds Daddy's gun.

We're on page 312. A ten-year-old with a gun faces down a huge psycho killer (don't even ask) who's armed with a knife.

What could make this worse?

Thomas pulls the trigger.

Click!

No bullets.

The kids race upstairs to the reinforced safe room.

The psycho killer sprinkles gasoline all over and lights a match.

Talley faces off against the phony FBI guys, who would just as soon let the house burn. He knows he's risking his family's lives if he tries to save the Smith children, and he also knows it's his moral and legal duty to save them.

He does his duty.

Building to Climax The astute will once again realize that important as saving the Smith children may be, it's not the main event. Everything in Arcs Two and Three simply cleared away the underbrush so we could concentrate on the real confrontation, the one between Talley and Benza, with Talley's wife and child as the bait and the prize. Similar things happen in mysteries as the detective clears up mini-puzzles, exposes lies, and tracks down red herrings before coming at last to the big solution that solves the murder.

Crais built to this climax by ratcheting up the stakes at every turn. Now his Daniel is about to go into the lion's den. His hero is facing the hostage negotiation of his life. Can he do it? Can the man we saw in the prologue rise to the ultimate occasion and save his own child from death at the hands of a cruel s.a.d.i.s.t?

Ending chapters with a cliffhanger is another powerful suspense tool.

ENDINGS ARE HARD. How many times have you waded through pages upon pages of heated prose, your pulse racing and your fingers flipping the pages like mad, only to be disappointed by the so-called "big finish"? How many times have you put down a book with a sigh, thinking, "If only the ending had lived up to that thrilling opening chapter" or "What a great premise for a novel-too bad this writer couldn't deliver." When your friends ask how you liked the book you say, "It was great, but the ending fell flat."

Why? What happened? How did a writer who had you with him all the way drop the ball in the final ten yards?

For one thing, writers are only human. As the book nears its close, they get tired. Eager to finish-and not incidentally, to pick up the next installment of their advance-they may rush through scenes they ought to linger over. Piling one sensational event upon another is not the key to a great ending; it's a recipe for creating a dissatisfied reader. Racing against a ticking clock is what the hero of your book needs to do, not what you the writer ought to be doing.

The second problem is also time-related: writers often revise the earlier chapters as they go along, not just correcting grammar and spelling, but delving more deeply into the characters, adding telling details to the setting, building more suspense. Then when they come to the ending, all of a sudden they reali/.e their book is due due and there isn't any time for revi- and there isn't any time for revi- sion. The closing chapters can feel like a first draft instead of a finished product because the author hasn't taken the time to go back through those chapters and give them the full treatment.

How to Finish Your Book Before It Finishes You_ The obvious answer to these problems is to make sure you have sufficient time to do your ending right. The trouble is-that's easy to say, harder to do. Here are a few tricks and strategies to help you make sure you'll have the time and energy to give your slam-bang ending its true value.

And the Last Shall Be First One radical thought: write the last chapter first.

Well, okay, not exactly the last chapter and not exactly first, but the truth is, you know pretty early on who your ultimate villain is and you know your hero must confront that ultimate villain sometime, somewhere. So pick the most dramatic setting you can think of, put your hero and villain in that spot, and let them duke it out. Do this fairly early in your writing process, when you still have a full head of steam and lots of time to revise. Then set that scene aside and go back to the linear story.

If you're working the four arcs, go back to your confrontation scene whenever you reach a plot point and look at it again. See if you've learned anything in the writing of that arc that would add resonance to the confrontation. Did you discover that the villain was a crack shot? If so, how about making your hero a moving target and letting the villain take potshots at her? Did you decide the villain's wife was almost as evil as he is? If so, she'd make a fine first-enemy confrontation before your hero gets to the final showdown with the ultimate villain. Perhaps your original scene took place on a rocky cliff, but you just finished a scene on the villain's yacht-you might rewrite your scene and have it take place on the yacht (in a perfect storm at sea, of course).