Suppose you want to write a scene that shatters your readers’ hearts, and you have all the devastating ingredients in place. What’s missing?
The surprising answer might be: a touch of humor.
Why? Because…
Emotional contrast hits the reader harder than just one emotion.
Make them laugh, then break their heart.
Make them feel safe, then slam the door.
Make them hurt, and then let in the light.
It’s the contrast that lends impact to the emotion.
Readers Feel More When They’re Off Balance
A scene that stays on the same emotional level falls flat. It can’t begin sad, stay sad, and end with the same level of sad without disappointing or boring the reader.
A scene mustn’t be an emotional flatline.
But a simple escalation of emotion won’t do the trick, either. Starting out with melancholic, cranking it up to sad, and ending with tragic? The reader would go numb halfway through.
There’s no play there. No surprise. And surprise is the ingredient that intensifies every other emotion (except perhaps tranquility).
If you want to creep out your readers, put them at ease first with some lighthearted nonsense.
If you want to tear out their hearts, try to make them smile fondly first.
Toppling from one emotion to the other has a greater impact than trying to convey just one emotion.
Note: When a Scene is Terrible Throughout
Some scenes don’t lend themselves to humor at all. That’s okay.
Use the previous scene to set up the contrast. It works just as well.
For example, when you want to write a horrific scene, end the previous scene on a lightly humorous note.
A Quick Example
Let’s say your character, Dezi, is about to lose her best friend in a terrible monster attack.
It might feel natural to lead into that moment with rising tension, dread, and foreshadowing. But try this instead:
Start the scene with joy.
Let the two of them argue about something stupid, like snack preferences, or an inside joke. A memory from childhood that gets them laughing until their eyes water.
Then drop the monster.
That way, you’re not just scaring the reader; you’re shattering something warm they’d just started to trust.
This twist of the knife works better than the horror on its own.
Why It Works
Here’s what contrast does:
It re-sensitizes the reader. If everything is sad, sad becomes background noise. Laughter resets their emotional baseline.
It builds tension through unpredictability. The reader knows something is coming, but not what or when.
It makes emotional moments feel earned. The shift from joy to heartbreak doesn’t feel manipulative—it feels real, because that’s how life works.
It deepens character connection. Letting us see your characters happy, funny, or vulnerable just before things go wrong makes us care more (and hurt more).
Humans are wired to respond to contrast more powerfully. It’s how our nervous system is built.
We’re just hijacking that to make our stories work better.
A Prompt to Try
Pick a moment in your WIP where you want the reader to feel something strongly: grief, fear, horror, or heartbreak.
Now ask:
What emotional tone comes right before that moment?
Can you shift it in the opposite direction?
Can you give the reader something they don’t realize they’re about to lose?
Even just one line of contrast can make the scene hit twice as hard.
This was a short but important post. If it helped you stretch your emotional range, hit the ❤️ and share it with a writer who loves emotional whiplash (in the best way).
Because great stories don’t just make us feel. They flip upside down how we feel, right when we’re not expecting it.
See you next week,
Tal Kilim