
“Underneath this shirt I have a big surprise … and it’s not that tattoo of Sam the guys are always razzing me about.”
Nearly all storytelling relies, at some point, on hitting the reader with something she hasn’t seen coming. Or thinks she hasn’t seen coming, but actually has, because you, the author, have prepared the way for it, then sprung it only after she’s forgotten about the groundwork you’ve painstakingly laid. Or maybe she never realized it was there in the first place.
Granted, some surprises really do come totally out of the wild blue. Some just need to, and work better that way. Sometimes life is delightfully, cruelly, random.
The others, though, the prepared surprises, nearly always seem more satisfying. Because when one is delivered well, it’s like a stealth puzzle piece clicking into place — “Ahhh, riiight, I forgot about that!” And most of us are hardwired for puzzles. As readers, as viewers, we love seeing them solved, love solving them ourselves.
But when you’re the one in control, you have to plant the right seeds, and — this is important — you have to disguise what you’re really up to. Maybe give the reader time to forget all about it, too.
To The Power Of 3
I’ve often seen such surprises pulled off — and done it myself — in a 3-step process. Which may sound formulaic, but it isn’t, because it can manifest in an infinite number of guises.
Step 1: Introduction Of The Key Element
Get it out in the open. Show it, talk about it, but above all, tie it into something immediate that makes it look as if it has relevance right then and there. If you don’t, it runs the risk of being too obvious, another of Chekhov’s guns hanging on the wall in Act One: Everybody will be expecting it to be fired by Act Three.
Better still if the weaving-in comes with emotional significance to the characters. This sells the sense of immediacy, and often makes the scene more memorable for later.
Step 2: The Reminder
Show it, talk about it, again. Preferably in a different context from the first time, but once more, it has to look free of ulterior motives. That the point is self-contained.
This is the bridge between Steps 1 and 3, a reinforcement of whatever you’ve put into play. Ideally, though, these first two appearances will be pulling double-duty, doing something in the moment that’s almost as important as what you have planned for later on … say, on the surface revealing something about your characters, while your delayed purpose lingers below, out of sight.
Step 3: The Payoff
Here’s where everything finally comes together. Either you’ve been subtle enough or buried the key element amid enough distractions to make the reader forget about it until its time comes … or everything you’ve laid out is now seen from a different perspective, a fresh context, a wider view.
And that’s it, the craft of surprise. Using something old in a brand new way.
It’s easy to describe, but easier still to point out in practice, so let’s take a peek at how this plays out in a couple of examples.
Case Study #1
In the movie version of The Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship Of The Ring, the Power Of 3 is used to amp up and draw out suspense during the chaotic melee with orcs and their cave troll, in the Mines Of Moria. For several moments, we’re left thinking there’s no way Frodo could’ve survived being skewered by the cave troll’s giant spear.
But he did, of course, thanks to his shirt of mithril chainmail.
Step 1: Introduction
During their reunion at Rivendell, Frodo’s Uncle Bilbo gives him the mithril shirt, along with a sword (which slightly dilutes the impact a single gift would’ve had). “As light as a feather, and as hard as dragon’s scales,” he describes it. It’s an emotional scene, too. Bilbo is dealing with some heavy regrets over what his actions have led to, and in equipping Frodo for the journey, he’s not just investing in Frodo’s protection … he seems to be trying to make amends.
Step 2: Reminder
While the Fellowship hoofs it through the Mines Of Moria, we see the chasms glittering with mithril in its unmined state. Gandalf remarks that Bilbo once was given a shirt of mithril … a kingly gift, Gimli observes.
“I never told him,” Gandalf says, “but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire.”
That’s the really interesting part. We’re left wondering why, exactly, Gandalf withheld this information. For my money, it shows Gandalf’s protective nature, that he doesn’t want to introduce the corrupting influence of wealth into hobbit society … and maybe that he doesn’t entirely trust Bilbo to resist it. But we can only guess.
Step 3: Payoff
Frodo is skewered, but rumors of his death are greatly exaggerated. Open his shirt and … SURPRISE! The Reminder and the Payoff come surprisingly close together, but so much happens in those intervening minutes that most viewers completely forget about the shirt by the time it matters.
Case Study #2
In my crime novel Mad Dogs, I used the Power Of 3 to disguise the fact that I was bringing in a new character at a point when conventional wisdom says you shouldn’t: fairly close to the end. Her name is Petra Lanier, she’s a Hollywood makeup artist, and she plays a brief but vital role in preparing the main characters, actor Jamey Shepherd and career criminal Duncan MacGregor, for a climactic confrontation with someone who’s been busy stacking the odds against them.
The problem: Bringing in a pivotal new character this late would’ve come off too much like winging it … kind of like the cheeseball hero who, in a pinch, reveals that he just happens to have studied nuclear fusion during a semester at MIT. But there was absolutely no place to have brought Petra onstage any earlier.
There was still a way around this.
Step 1: Introduction
Petra was first brought up in conversation by Jamey’s fiancee, Samantha, in a heart-to-heart with a new friend, Dawn. It comes out that there was a never-acted-upon infatuation between Jamey and Petra in the past. The scene’s surface duty is to reveal Samantha’s insecurities about herself and her relationship with Jamey, and bond her with Dawn.
Step 2: Reminder
Petra comes up a second time in a conversation Jamey has with Duncan. This time you get the infatuation from Jamey’s perspective, and see that Samantha didn’t have nearly as much to worry about as she thought she did. It sheds light from another direction on the depth of Jamey’s love for and commitment to her.
And up to this point, it all just seems like a bit of she-said-he-said backstory, a potential fray in their emotional ties. Important, and valid, but hardly the only thing I’m up to.
Step 3: Payoff
When Petra finally gets her walk-on, she may not have been seen before, but she’s certainly been a presence, the subject of a couple of heartfelt conversations. She has a unique enough name — this was no accident — that it’s likely to spark additional recognition. Her arrival isn’t a surprise the reader is likely to have seen coming, but under the circumstances it makes perfect, resourceful sense, and doesn’t come off like something I’ve whipped out in desperation to wiggle out of a corner I’ve painted myself into.
Ultimately, there are almost as many ways to surprise a reader as there are to tell a story. This is just one of them, but if you start looking for it, you probably won’t have to look very far.
The tripod, they say, is one of the most stable structures you can build.
***** Don’t stop now! If’n you please, swing over to my blog, Warrior Poet. The latest, the loud, true story of “The Chainsaw Massacre Of Focus: How To Creatively Cope When The World Won’t Stop Screaming In Your Ear.”

re: “Underneath this shirt I have a big surprise…” Damn, you know what I was thinking. Hey, gender reassignment is all the rage.
Great subject, Brian. Untouched by us lesser authors and deftly handled. Occurs to me that you could tack on a corollary: using red herrings. If the denouement is channeling down to a focus, throwing out an alternate (and more obvious) deus ex machina can serve well too. The delicous effect of that may only come up and be enjoyed at the end, or it can sneak in early with just enough intrusiveness to convince the reader he sees something coming. That business of too much/too little is always subjective. What one reader gets (or thinks they do), another spots as too obvious. Well, you know when Sullivan throws in his two cents, it’s because he envies a masterful job. You’ve added to the canon of genuinely helpful advice…again.
– Sully
1. Show the gun above the fireplace mantle in Act 1.
2. Mention offhandedly that the protagonist has that means to defend himself if a burglar breaks in.
3. In the climactic fight with the burglar, in a last desperate moment when all seems lost, have the protagonist reach up to the mantle… and smash the burglar in the head with the duck decoy found there.
Beautiful post! It is a delicate line, offering the necessary information and also burying it enough so that it is not obvious to the reader.
This is really fabulous advice. What a great article! And very clearly explained.
I’m reminded of another great example of this in the truly wonderful book _When You Reach Me_ by Rebecca Stead (which totally earns its Newberry). I hesitate to say what it is, because I don’t want to spoil what is a wonderful book for anybody.
What I will say is that anyone who has read this article would do well to go read that book, because: a) Stead’s construction of the surprise is masterfully subtle. It’s so good that, I’ll wager, even if you read the book with this article in mind you’ll still miss the significance of the clues as they are presented. b) She does it in a way that doesn’t particularly contain any emotional significance to the characters–although it does have immediate relevance to the story–showing that even this tripod technique has a lot of flexibility in how you apply it. c) It’s a lovely book, and a very fast read. How can you go wrong?
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Elizabeth S Craig , Susanne, Terry Odell, Jason Black, Lisa Gail Green and others. Lisa Gail Green said: Excellent post! RT @elizabethscraig: The Three-Step Process To Surprising Your Readers: http://dld.bz/rgC8 [...]
Fantastic advice Brian. I know of one great example and one poor example.
Great example: Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane. I’m so glad I read the book before seeing the movie, (and even more glad the script sticks directly to the novel). The foreshadowing is done is such a way that, when you read it a second time, you think “How could I have missed that?”. That, to me, is what makes a story so wonderful – when the end just blows you away. I highly recommend Shutter Island not only for the pleasure of the read but for the perfect example of the surprise element.
Poor example: This may shock some – The Crying Tree by Naseem Rakha. I just finished this a few days ago and was so disappointed. It is a great story, but I so wish I hadn’t read the jacket first. By reading the jacket alone, I knew what would happen, how, and when. I hoped I’d be wrong, but no, I was right. The worst part of this book, (in my opinion), is how, at the beginning of several chapters, Ms. Rakeem tells us what’s going to happen in the forthcoming scenes, rather than simply diving right into the story. That irritated me quite a bit, knowing it’s Against The Rules of storytelling altogether.
Okay, I’ll hop on down off my soapbox now.
Thanks again Brian for a great post!
Thanks, one and all, for such great feedback…
@ Sully: Red herrings, huh? Well, it could happen. Although I can’t get past thinking what a great character name it would be: “The name’s Red … Red Herring.” You could even spell it Haring, like the artist Keith Haring, so it wouldn’t be so obvious.
@ Wolf: Carl Hiaasen would totally do that. I love it!
@ Lisa: That’s one of the many places where a good editor is worth so much … pointing out where you’ve shoveled on too much, or left it too vague.
@ Jason: Thanks for the recommendation. I’ve just added WHEN YOU REACH ME to my Amazon list so I’ll be sure to remember it.
@ Deanna: Thanks for your recommendation, too. I’ve loved everything by Lehane that I’ve read, but haven’t gotten to SHUTTER ISLAND yet. I’ll be sure to read it before watching the movie version.
As for THE CRYING TREE’s dust jacket, yeah, I hate it when that happens. My first novel, the publisher splattered right there on the cover the main thing I’d wanted to keep as a surprise until it happened near the end.
Great advice. Have printed it out and stuck it on my board, it is so clear concise, and helpful.
Thanks, Damyanti — glad to have helped. Sometimes I think there’s a big benefit to waiting to write these until the night just before they’re due up. This time I even wrote at least half of it while watching MMA fights.
What a great analysis. I’m going to bookmark this post so I can find it easily when I need it!