I Plot Murders: editorial notes for writers of crime
The Psychology and Technique of Writing Crime
Recently I’ve been working with two authors who are both moving into the competitive but potentially highly lucrative genre of crime and thriller. They’re entirely different writers in tone, style and sub-genre. But it’s made me think about my long history of publishing this genre – from my early days making editorial suggestions to the main editor of SJ Bolton’s Lacey Flint series, to one of my first acquisitions, Cara Hunter’s Adam Fawley series, to one of my last, Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club series – and the characteristics that make for a successful novel. I thought I’d share with you the most common editorial notes I give to authors, whether you’re writing a literary novel with a crime in it, or a classic police procedural. Or, actually, almost any novel!
I especially want to share these notes because much of it doesn’t require an expert like me to assess. So many writers get in touch only to tell me I will be their first reader, and I get it: it’s less scary to send to a stranger like me than to people you know and who may judge you. But sharing your novel with as many people as possible prior to sending to an agent is absolutely the only way to see whether your novel is working. Even the most seasoned, successful writers share their work with a multitude of people before it gets to their editors (you have only to read an acknowledgements page to know how many), and many of their beta readers aren’t other novelists, but partners, friends in different fields, long-standing pen pals. It’s also important to step outside the echo chamber of your immediate literary circle and connect with people who think quite differently to you. All you need are a few keen readers who will give an honest opinion about whether some key things are working; it’s just knowing how to ask for and interpret the feedback you get, (and being prepared for it to be delivered bluntly!).
So, here it is, my list of essential crime ingredients:
People we’re interested in. One might be deceived into thinking that plot is where it’s at for novels in this genre, but I believe that it always comes back to character: humans, and why we do things. As Will Storr posits in his fantastic book The Science of Storytelling, we read to find out about ourselves, both our individual selves and our collective, societal selves. This is, I think, why the darkest of the genres is so popular, because it is in extremis that people are most tested. There is nothing more compelling than a normal person who commits a terrible crime, is there? Apart from, perhaps, a true psychopath – which brings us to one of the other fundamental reasons why humans have told stories through the ages: to figure out how to avoid danger. We desperately wish to understand why people do bad things because, conversely, it makes us feel safe. So even if you are a plot-first person, I advise spending a good amount of time on Character Plot, by which I mean the interlinked aspects of each character’s personality, as formed by their lives and particular minds, as well as the complex web of relationships between each character in your novel. While a lot of this may not go on the page, it will inform everything that happens in the book. Character begets plot. One of the notes I most commonly give is along the lines of ‘I don’t understand this character’s motivation,’ and often this is because the writer has figured out plot before understanding the why of it. So don’t neglect yours.
An investigating character we want to investigate. Most important of all the people in your novel is your investigating character, whether it’s a maverick police officer or a seemingly perfect mother hiding a drinking problem; whether there’s one, or a whole chorus of them. People come back to a series for the people. And even if you’re not writing a series, this is still absolutely vital. It may come down to gimmicks, like your protagonist has a distinctive moustache, but really it’s about them having an especially rich and layered inner life and life view. We don’t have to like them, but we have to be absolutely enthralled by them. I think the best investigating characters fall into one of two camps: the ‘just like me’ camp, and the ‘nothing like me’ camp, and both can work superbly well. With the first, we’re feeling out what we might do in extremis, and with the second we’re examining what someone else might do, (or what we might do were we to give into our dark side, our Id). The note I most commonly give is to flesh out this character — and, crucially, to do this by showing rather than telling the reader. Long passages of description about a character in the first few pages can work if one is a master of prose, but most of the time readers want to learn about the character via the action. The other note I often find myself writing is to give the investigating character more unique traits or life circumstances; it helps, from a publishing perspective, if they have something about them, easily conveyable via a blurb, that sets them apart from the rest and intrigues potential readers.
A crime we believe in. The sub-genre you’re writing into will affect what kind of crime you’re writing about, and how complex it is, but in all cases it must be believable. But how do you assess this? As many of my clients say when I’m giving them this note, real life is often entirely unbelievable, so why can’t I put it on the page? But real life only has so much to do with it: you must convince your readers. It’s all about bringing them into the story, creating that complete immersive experience. So if one of your readers thinks, ‘no way, that wouldn’t happen,’ you have a problem. Readers will make this assessment based partly on real life, but also on what other crime-related media they’ve consumed, e.g. films and podcasts. As it is subjective, I think the only way to assess this is to get multiple readers to assess your novel. If a common complaint is made, then you will do well to acknowledge it, whether or not you think it’s valid.
Plot that happens quickly. This is something of a contradiction of the above point. Readers want a believable plot, but the speed with which it’s delivered must be break-neck to the point of unbelievability. The most common issue I see is a first third or half of a novel that’s too slow, and I frequently ask authors to compress their first six or eight chapters into one, or to ‘start the novel in the middle’. Often the first draft of a novel is a process — you are working out what is going to happen, especially if you’re not a planner — but the reader doesn’t need to see this process. You’ll know this is the problem if readers lose interest, or tell you they found a section boring, or, horror of horrors, don’t finish it. As a rule of thumb, I like to see the crime happen within the first couple of chapters, or at least the extremely thrilling beginnings of the crime. Biochemically speaking, it’s the adrenaline hit of the murder or heist or kidnapping that secures your reader’s attention, so it needs to come quickly. Then you must keep the plot coming. The most successful commercial writers try to deliver a breath-stopping cliffhanger regularly, often at the end of every chapter. It’s a classic trick, but it’s a classic because it works.
The perfect amount of complexity. The most successful crime plots, in my opinion, are ones that teeter just on the edge of understanding. That make us feel clever because we get it, but only just. That might even necessitate us re-reading parts of the novel to fully understand it. But again, we might ask: whose understanding? And again, the answer is one of numbers. If many of your beta readers are saying ‘I guessed this’ or ‘this didn’t make sense’, then I urge you to listen to them.
Twists that get your hormones going. Ever since reading Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl many, many years ago, I’ve been fascinated with twists and the neuropsychology behind them. A combination of dopamine and adrenaline hits when we discover something unexpected that was, nevertheless, hiding in plain sight. Fear and excitement and relief combine in an addictive chemical cocktail that make us rave about the book and, in the case of a potential acquiring editor, make them respond to your novel. Again, this is a finely balanced thing. Too many clues, and the reader will have guessed it. Too few and they will feel cheated. Again, only multiple readers can tell you whether you’re achieving what you set out to.
I hope this piece has inspired you to share your creations with some people you know, and to have the confidence to do the work needed. But before I go, one final piece of advice. Your most valuable editorial tool is a pair of fresh eyes, but the clue is in the name — you cannot get them twice from the same person. Particularly when it comes to plot. Once you know Mrs White did it in the Billiard Room, you can’t unknow that fact. Every red herring will look obviously artificial, and every clue will announce itself as obvious. So don’t just find fresh eyes, but keep on finding them – and in fact at a later stage I’d certainly advocate paying for them – and remember that your goal isn’t to plot the perfect murder, but to make readers believe you have.
Gone Girl was SO good wasn't it? I haven't had a reading experience like that in so long, I don't think. My heart beating fast on the Tube, rushing to read more after work etc.. xoxo