Suspension of disbelief

Some thoughts on keeping readers firmly rooted in your story/world

Picture this: You’re reading a new fiction novel about time-traveling dragons when—bam—something happens on page that’s just not believable and you’re pulled out of the story. It’s no longer a thrilling tale because you can feel the author in the room with you.

Why does this happen? How can we suspend our disbelief for wild premises like dragons and time travel to begin with?

Readers (and viewers) of fiction are familiar with the impossible. Magical powers, futuristic tech, paranormal creatures—we gobble it up. But it’s the details supporting these things that make them palatable. If the world-building feels shoddy or underbaked, or giant plot holes emerge, the illusion shatters. The reader can no longer suspend their disbelief.

The line at which this happens varies for each reader. Sometimes the same reader may have a different line depending on the age category and/or genre they are reading. (E.g.: I have a different line for a middle grade fantasy than I do for an adult epic fantasy.) But there is always a line, and we writers should work to avoid crossing it.

Here are some tips to keep your readers deeply rooted in your story:

Be factual / Don’t break your own rules

If you’re writing historical fiction or contemporary, it goes without saying that you should strive to be as accurate as possible with names, places, dates, etc. Otherwise anyone familiar with the place and/or time you’re writing about will be yanked out of the story if they stumble upon mistakes in the text.

That said, even in genre fiction, we need to strive for realism to keep our readers rooted in the story. E.g.: If a soldier in your fantasy takes a sword to the gut, they will not be able to keep fighting effortlessly. Unless, perhaps, they have magical capabilities and can heal themselves. Here’s where magic systems and rules come into play: When you introduce magic (or in a sci-fi, technology), establish its uses and limitations, and then stick to those rules.

In Contagion, I introduce a virus that hijacks its host, turning them into a zombie-like creature. But before they lose complete control, they experience a nosebleed followed by hemorrhaged eyes. From infection to nosebleed is a set amount of time. From hemorrhaged eyes to zombie-state, another set amount. It wasn’t instantaneous, but it wasn’t long either. (I think a few hours from start to finish, if I’m remembering correctly.) As I got farther into the story, there were definitely instances where it would have been more dramatic to have someone “turn” immediately, but doing so would have created an illogical plot hole. And it likely would have felt cheap to the reader, too.

You can’t pick and choose when to write by your magic system rules. Establish the rules and stick to them. If you find yourself stuck, find a solution that works around your rules rather than something that ignores them completely.

Use rich detail to support your world

In fiction, the far-fetched is fine. After all, I fully believed a species called orogenes could control energy in The Fifth Season, that two linked typewriters could communicate across vast distances in Divine Rivals, and that scarecrows could come to life in Small Spaces. It was the details within these stories that supported these “out there” premises, making everything feel entirely plausible.

Orogenes are so baked into society and culture in The Fifth Season, that the world feels fully realized. Folks without these powers often fear orogenes. There are different levels of skill and schools to learn to control the power, and instances where that power is abused and some orogenes are kept imprisoned, forever working to help stabilize a continent undergoing massive climate upheaval.

The same happens in Divine Rivals and Small Spaces. Details and backstory woven into each novels supports the magic on the page. The result is a rich, blended world that feels like it’s always been this way (as opposed to a world that feels just like ours with a bit of magic sprinkled on top).

When developing your own worlds, always consider how your magic (or technology) changes things for the people living there. (I recently touched on this in Generating Plot Ideas.)

Make sure character motivations, decisions, and reactions feel realistic

Always think about why a character makes the decisions they do. Every choice they make should align with their motives and fit within the story world. This is not to say they can’t make rash decisions, only that their decisions should feel realistic within the moment.

Think of Katniss in The Hunger Games. The decision to volunteer in her sister’s place is incredibly rash and dangerous, but we understand why she does it. She wants to protect her family, she refuses to lose Prim to the violent games.

In this same bucket, your antagonists’ decisions also need to feel realistic. As readers, we buy that random tributes are selected from each district and forced to fight to the death, because it supports the world history. The annual Games serve as a reminder of the last time the districts rebelled. Snow is set up as a ruthless dictator. Think about his actions in book one (and the sequels). Now imagine if he hadn’t sentenced Seneca Crane to death for allowing two victors (Katniss and Peeta) during those Games. It would have created a crack to appear in that tough, vicious exterior. And what if he’d let Katniss retire to the Victors’ Village and live out her days in comfort? Snow wouldn’t be a saint, but… he also wouldn’t seem as terribly evil as he does in Catching Fire, when he approves of a Games that pulls tributes from existing victors.

When characters act “out-of-character,” it’s usually because their decisions don’t align with their motives or what the reader has come to expect from them. This isn’t the same as a plot hole, but it still feels like a hole of sorts to the reader. It will make them pause and question the author. But you don’t want your readers to be thinking about you, the author, at all. If they’re thinking about you, there’s a good chance you’ve killed their suspension of disbelief.

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I’m curious: What pulls you out of a story quickest? Similarly, what is the most wild premise or story element that you’ve believed without issue, and why do you think that is? Tell me in the comments!

Until next time,

Erin Bowman is the critically acclaimed author of numerous books for children and teens, including the Taken Trilogy, Vengeance Road, Retribution Rails, the Edgar Award-nominated Contagion duology, The Girl and the Witch’s Garden, and Dustborn. A web designer turned author, Erin has always been invested in telling stories—both visually and with words. Erin lives in New Hampshire with her husband and children.