Photo by Sarah Hoey
You are welcome to pull out that rusty ax from behind your shed, because what I'm about to tell you will certainly scratch that itch in your psyche, that nagging wish to hack me to pieces and watch me bleed and die. Because. Oh, my glorious hamsters! Because I will blasphemise (is that even a word?) your previous beliefs in stretching out the suspense for as long as possible, salivating over your keyboard in feverish anticipation of hooking your reader on the mystery of your story. Only. Surprise!
If you artificially stretch out the suspense in your book, your reader will forgive you for a few pages. Maybe. That is, if the reader is of the patient kind. For the next few pages or a chapter the reader will grow increasingly irritated. And at last, when the droning prose will sap all excitement from the reader, the reader will slam the book shut and hurl it out the window, where it will bludgeon a passing elderly lady, who will collapse and at the alert of the spying neighbor (there is always that one, peeking though the curtains at the shenanigans of the neighborhood) will be collected by police officers who will scan the area diligently to find the treacherous owner of said book, and upon sighting your scared pallid face in the...but I'm getting carried away.
READ MORE AND YOU GET AN . Or something.