A little after 7:00, I walked into the classroom where my creative writing class is held. The first thing to catch my eyes as I walked through the door was the chalkboard at the end of the room, opposite the shelves full of used books.

The chalkboard is usually blank. Indeed, this was the first evening I could remember seeing any words on it. Tonight, in addition to the usual layers of chalk dust from past classes, the chalkboard bore a question, in large letters, covering nearly half the available writing area.

What is at risk for the protagonist?

“A good question,” I thought, but not one I would need to contend with. Someone had written another sentence directly beneath it, as if it were the answer. They’d even underlined it for emphasis.

Suspension of disbelief

At first, this didn’t seem like the sort of answer that would go with a question like that. Surely the question was about something within the story that the protagonist was at risk of losing. The risk of this loss is what motivates the protagonist to resolve the plot. But thinking about it from the protagonist’s viewpoint, I found myself agreeing that perhaps this was the correct answer after all.

Loss of the suspension of disbelief can be downright shattering to a protagonist. How many main characters are out there, trapped forever between the pages of a book that isn’t interesting enough for someone to finish reading? (Heck, how many stories are eternally trapped in this journal, waiting for someone to read them?)

To be certain, there are risks for the writer as well. If the reading public had been unable to suspend their disbelief and enter the world of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling wouldn’t be nearly as well-known as she is now and might still be toiling in obscurity. But consider the risks for Harry himself! If the public interest hadn’t been sufficient for Ms. Rowling to write the rest of the series, Harry might still be living under the stairs in the Dursley residence!