What would you say if I told you that writing is a lot like BDSM? You might tell me that you are not into that—but aren’t you? No, no, that wasn’t an invitation for sex. I wasn’t talking literally but literarily. Okay, let’s clear that up: It’s what we can do emotionally with writing. Usually described as an “emotional roller coaster”. You might say that kind of cruelty only exists in splatter and gore. But it might just be that you’re getting BDSM wrong. When practicing BDSM, you wouldn’t go around slapping random people on the street. This would most likely not result in arousal but in arrest because you are a psycho. BDSM, on the other hand is built on trust and a common goal—even though it’s reached through suffering. But it’s not suffering for the sake of suffering but for pleasure. And that’s what writing is about, too. Without the emotional bonding (not bondage), it would be needless suffering.

We, as readers, surrender ourselves to the dominant author—let them play with us as they please. And if they are doing a good job, they keep us in a constant (or recurring) state of excitement, wanting for more. We don’t want them to stop. It’s not a surprise, books also have climaxes. And after a good climax, there’s the equivalent of post-coital tristesse.

Just admit it: You like it, too!

Yeah, one last thing: Just like kinks, it’s not for everyone but you’d be surprised for how many it is.

Even Hitchcock already knew about the value of suspense. His theory is perfectly illustrated in the opening scene of Quentin Tarantino’s “Inglourious basterds” where SS-Standartenführer Hans Landa (known as “the Jew hunter”) interrogates French dairy farmer Perrier LaPadite who hides Jews under his floor—something we are made aware of. If we weren’t, the end of the scene, where Landa fires his gun through the cracks of the floor and kills all the people down there, wouldn’t have remotely the devastating effect it has on us. Even though, Landa’s whole bearing is intimidating, we hope, that the farmer might find a way to convince him that he doesn't have what the Nazi is looking for.

As children, what we like and don’t like is quite simple (I know, parents would tell me, it’s not, given the fact that it doesn’t make sense, their child suddenly doesn’t like broccoli anymore), as long as it’s sweets we can eat. When we grow up, our taste buds get more sophisticated: We like coffee, different alcoholic beverages, black tea, dark chocolate. A bitter taste is something, most children cannot appreciate—yet. For a reason, in German we say, literally translated, “sour makes funny”.