How should you use fear and suspense in a kid-friendly story?

Painting of a Dad reading little girl a slightly scary bedtime story

Fear is part of every great adventure.

Not cheap horror. Not misery. Not darkness for the sake of darkness. I’m talking about real suspense. Real obstacles. Real danger – because that gives someone the chance to show courage.

And that makes them seem like someone you’d want to meet.

In a kid-friendly story, the question isn’t whether fear should exist at all. The question is how it should be used.

If the challenge feels fake, the victory feels fake too. But if the fear becomes too grim, cruel, or unnecessary, the story loses the very thing that makes it worth sharing with children.

So, here’s how I think about fear, suspense, and danger when writing a child-friendly adventure – and, in particular, Packkeeper.

Drama needs something real to push against

Ever read a story without fear, suspense, danger, or difficulty?

No.

Because that fear, suspense, danger, or difficulty is what makes it a story.

Otherwise, it’s just sort of a list of – well, things.

Like a shopping list.

I hate shopping lists.

Drama happens when a character wants something, but something believable – even if it’s just about on the border between believable and bonkers – stands in the way.

Maybe that obstacle is a wolf in the dark. Maybe it’s a locked gate or a lie. Or a storm. Or a mistake. (Hint, hint! Read Packkeeper!)

The point, of course, isn’t to make children miserable or scare them so badly they don’t sleep. For a year.

The point is simply to make the story – and the actions of the hero – mean something. Only then does a reader – young or otherwise – have any reason to keep turning the page.

Suspense is really the shape of overcoming

I don’t think suspense belongs in a separate box marked ‘scary bits to skip’.

Suspense is built into the basic shape of adventure. A child-friendly story can still have tension because tension is simply the space between the problem appearing and the problem being solved.

Will the character make it home? Will the dog sense the danger in time? Will the village believe the warning? Will the younger sister be protected? Will the hero do the brave thing when he doesn’t feel brave?

(Again, if you’re interested to find out, you know what to do!)

This isn’t just cheap thrills. It’s the engine of the story.

Will the character grow up? Will they make a good decision? Will they admit their faults? Will they turn into the worst baddie ever heard of?

Suspense is meaningful when it leads somewhere.

Kid-friendly doesn’t mean nothing bad can happen

Being child-friendly does not mean pretending the world has no fear in it.

I suggest we do children an injustice by assuming they don’t understand fear. No matter where in the world you live, your kids know what it feels like to be alone, embarrassed, worried, left out, told off, overwhelmed, or unsure.

Sometimes, stories that handle those emotions gently can help them face those feelings safely.

But there are, of course, limits.

Here’s something we don’t talk about enough. All children are different. And all parents have different rules.

Your family might be comfortable with darker adventures or murder mysteries. Or maybe your family takes any mention of those kinds of stories, tears them up, throws them on the fire, and adds a can of something flammable.

I can’t write for every possible boundary. So I choose to write for my own.

For me, that means fear should have a purpose. It shouldn’t be grim, ugly, or utterly and genuinely hopeless. It means not lingering over violence or desperation. It also means not making evil seem attractive or treating darkness as a guilty pleasure.

A child-friendly adventure can be serious, but it should still leave room for courage, loyalty, goodness, humour, family, hope, and light. That’s what I’ve tried to do with Packkeeper.

Brave adventure, not unnecessary horror

So, how should fear and suspense be used in a kid-friendly adventure story?

Carefully.

Honestly.

Purposefully.

The danger should feel believable enough for the story to matter, but not so heavy that it crushes everything else. The frightening moments should make courage brighter, loyalty stronger, and the final victory more satisfying.

That’s the kind of adventure story for kids I’m trying to write.

I want readers to feel the thrill of danger, the ache of uncertainty, and the joy of seeing ordinary young characters and animals do brave things. Not because they’re fearless, but because they keep going anyway.

As always, you can read the chapters free as they’re released. Sign up to the email list if you’d like to follow the story, get new chapters, and come along for the adventure.

I look forward to having you join the pack.