Monkey See. Monkey Write Page-Turners.
The easiest and most effective way to learn what actually activates the brain’s attention systems isn’t by memorizing theory.
It’s by seeing it done.
Monkey see.
Monkey understand.
Monkey write irresistible scenes.
And in this post you’ll see what three examples do to automatically trigger interest.
I think you’re going to be surprised to see exactly how simple it is.
Here’s the first example.
Example 1
She was two tables away—blue jeans, white blouse, straight black hair past her shoulders. She was trim. Pretty. And she kept glancing at him.
A small, curious smile tugged at one corner of her mouth, like she was actually waiting for him to respond.
His pulse bumped.
Should he?
No guts, no glory. That was a truth in the male-female world. And a little banter wouldn’t technically break protocol. It had been a while, but maybe it was time.
She tilted her head—just a hint—but enough to feel intentional. Like a little silent dare.
He set his napkin down.
Keep it low key, he told himself.
Response
Did it raise your interest?
Do you want to know what happens next?
Men: be honest.
If it did pique your interest, did you see what I was doing?
Let’s look at another example.
Example 2
She could see him clearly two tables away, talking to what looked like a couple of clients. He wore polished shoes, a tailored blue suit, and a clean white shirt—no tie, just an open collar showing a hint of chest.
His smile was warm.
And he kept glancing at her. Not in a creepy way, but with playful interest.
It had been a day. Maybe she should be playful back. Why not?
Although, what counted as “playful”?
He glanced again. This time a fraction longer.
Response
Ladies, are you a little curious what will happen next?
Men?
If you answered yes to either example, what did I do?
Can you see it?
It’s simpler than you might imagine.
Why These Simple Situations Hook You
Notice it wasn’t details. I gave you hardly any details about the point of view characters. Hardly any details about the setting.
It wasn’t poetic language. That’s all window-pane prose.
Nobody’s life is on the line (yet).
So what did I do?
The simple truth is I didn’t do anything. The situation did all the work. All I had to do was present it to you.
In this case it was the possibility of an exciting social opportunity. An attractive woman or man interested in the character whose eyes you’re seeing the story through.
If you were sitting in a restaurant and an attractive person showed interest—even if you’re happily married—you’d feel something. Curiosity. Flattery. Caution. A little zing of “Is he or she actually looking at me?”
All I did was transport you to that situation. And your brain did the rest.
Secret #2: Delay
Something else is at work in those examples.
Did I tell you what will happen?
No. That would spoil it.
The reader doesn’t want to know the end result immediately. He or she wants to know what might happen and be anxious about the possibilities. The reader wants to wonder and be curious.
There’s a delicious feeling that comes with wanting.
So how do you keep a reader’s system activated?
By taking some time to play the situation out. By delaying the resolution.
Example 1 (Continued)
Let’s call the guy Bob. Bob acknowledges her with a subtle head nod. Or maybe a raised glass of Diet Dr. Pepper with a lime wedge bobbing in it.
Her smile deepens. Maybe she slowly pushes out the chair across from her with a high-heeled shoe.
A clear invitation.
It’s showtime for Bob. He stands, picks up his suit jacket, and walks over.
She runs her fingers through that straight, black hair and looks up at him. He realizes she isn’t really wearing much makeup. She’s one of those au natural types. With a light spattering of freckles. And she looks vaguely familiar, but Bob can’t for the life of him think where he’s seen her.
She lifts an eyebrow.
He probably shouldn’t do this.
Response
What’s he going to say? What does she want? What protocol is he technically not breaking?
Do you want to know?
I’m hardly giving you any detail about the situation, yet the system fires.
It’s because the detail I am giving is just enough to help you imagine a survive and thrive possibility. It’s just enough to plant a little mystery. And the response is automatic.
Let’s go back to the situation from the woman’s point of view.
Example 2 (Continued)
Our nicely-dressed man glances.
She smiles. But can only think of the move Penelope told her about. It’s crazy, but she slowly pushes the chair out across from her with her foot.
Good grief, that was probably way too bold.
Maybe she hears her mother’s warning voice. Maybe her best friend’s. Maybe more of her own doubts.
He stands and begins to walk toward her.
Response
What if I told you this was a spy thriller? Or a romantic comedy, or an urban fantasy, or some mix of those genres?
It would guide your imagination into certain expectations. It would lead you to imagine different things.
Do you want to know what happens next with this story in one of those genres?
If so, it wasn’t me. All I did was help you imagine a situation that triggers your survive and thrive system and your curiosity system. And your brain did the rest. Automatically.
With this understanding, let’s look another situation. One that transports you to a situation of threat instead of opportunity. This is from The Killing Floor by Lee Child.
Example 3
Chapter 1
I WAS ARRESTED IN ENO’S DINER. AT TWELVE O’CLOCK. I was eating eggs and drinking coffee. A late breakfast, not lunch. I was wet and tired after a long walk in heavy rain. All the way from the highway to the edge of town.
The diner was small, but bright and clean. Brand-new, built to resemble a converted railroad car. Narrow, with a long lunch counter on one side and a kitchen bumped out back. Booths lining the opposite wall. A doorway where the center booth would be.
I was in a booth, at a window, reading somebody’s abandoned newspaper about the campaign for a president I didn’t vote for last time and wasn’t going to vote for this time. Outside, the rain had stopped but the glass was still pebbled with bright drops. I saw the police cruisers pull into the gravel lot. They were moving fast and crunched to a stop. Light bars flashing and popping. Red and blue light in the raindrops on my window. Doors burst open, policemen jumped out. Two from each car, weapons ready. Two revolvers, two shotguns. This was heavy stuff. One revolver and one shotgun ran to the back. One of each rushed the door.
I just sat and watched them. I knew who was in the diner. A cook in back. Two waitresses. Two old men. And me. This operation was for me. I had been in town less than a half hour. The other five had probably been here all their lives. Any problem with any of them and an embarrassed sergeant would have shuffled in. He would be apologetic. He would mumble to them. He would ask them to come down to the station house. So the heavy weapons and the rush weren’t for any of them. They were for me. I crammed egg into my mouth and trapped a five under the plate.
Folded the abandoned newspaper into a square and shoved it into my coat pocket. Kept my hands above the table and drained my cup.
The guy with the revolver stayed at the door. He went into a crouch and pointed the weapon two-handed. At my head. The guy with the shotgun approached close. These were fit lean boys. Neat and tidy. Textbook moves. The revolver at the door could cover the room with a degree of accuracy. The shotgun up close could splatter me all over the window. The other way around would be a mistake. The revolver could miss in a close-quarters struggle and a long-range shotgun blast from the door would kill the arresting officer and the old guy in the rear booth as well as me. So far, they were doing it right. No doubt about that. They had the advantage. No doubt about that, either. The tight booth trapped me. I was too hemmed in to do much. I spread my hands on the table. The officer with the shotgun came near.
“Freeze! Police!” he screamed.
He was screaming as loud as he could. Blowing off his tension and trying to scare me. Textbook moves. Plenty of sound and fury to soften the target. I raised my hands. The guy with the revolver started in from the door. The guy with the shotgun came closer. Too close. Their first error. If I had to, I might have lunged for the shotgun barrel and forced it up. A blast into the ceiling perhaps and an elbow into the policeman’s face and the shotgun could have been mine. The guy with the revolver had narrowed his angle and couldn’t risk hitting his partner. It could have ended badly for them. But I just sat there, hands raised. The guy with the shotgun was still screaming and jumping.
“Out here on the floor!” he yelled.
I slid slowly out of the booth and extended my wrists to the officer with the revolver. I wasn’t going to lie on the floor. Not for these country boys. Not if they brought along their whole police department with howitzers.
Response
Look at the first line. Child isn’t hiding anything. He’s telling you right there through Reacher’s narration that something dramatic is coming. He’s putting it on a sign with big blinking lights: “Hey, you’re about to witness something threatening.”
The text then goes into description. Child’s painting the picture. Transporting us. Helping us imagine the setting. But it’s also delaying the resolution.
What’s next?
Police cruisers. Weapons out. Shotgun pointed at his head.
And it’s at a diner during breakfast. This is not what you’d normally expect in the morning at a diner. It’s not out of the question, but it’s a different place for this. It’s a bit novel. Some of Reacher’s reactions are a bit novel too.
Novelty triggers the prediction-curiosity system, increasing uncertainty, which amps up the interest.
Reacher’s also telling us some of the possibilities, isn’t he? They could splatter him against the window. He could maybe get the drop on them. Remember: readers don’t want to know what will happen. They want to know what might happen and worry about the possibilities.
Threat, novelty, possibilities, uncertainty. Four rocket boosters firing at once.
And note: We’re almost 700 words in, and there’s still no resolution. It takes about 500 more words just to get Reacher to the car. Child is taking his time.
He’s a master of triggering the two brain systems and keeping them activated. It’s one of the reasons why he’s sold millions of copies of his books.
What This Teaches You
What can we take from all this?
First, if you can transport readers into a meaningful THO situation, you will automatically trigger emotional interest—hopes, fears, anticipation.
Second, if you introduce a touch of novelty (which creates an expectation gap) or a small mystery, that triggers cognitive interest on top of the emotional tension.
Finally, you don’t want to rush. The delay is delicious. Let the reader worry about the possibilities. If you’re progressing toward the resolution, you will keep the attention system activated.
Do this across scenes, and you have a page-turner.
More Insight Coming
Examples are gold.
The more you see, the more you’ll internalize, and the more you’ll be able to use in your own writing.
So in the next post, we’re going to look at more great examples of situations that trigger these systems and make sure you see exactly what they’re doing.
I’m excited for you.
Part of Page-Turning Plots: How to Craft Stories Readers Can’t Stop Reading.
