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We've all read that one book where, when the curtain finally parts and the villain is revealed, the shock is so profound it leaves us breathless. Yet, when it's done well, the surprise lasts only a heartbeat before another thought takes over: But, of course... 

That's the sweet spot every thriller writer aims for: a reveal that is both shocking and inevitable. 

I'm Rupa Mahadevan, author of psychological thrillers, and these are my go-to tools for hiding a villain in plain sight. 

1. Create morally grey characters 

The easiest villain to spot is the one who looks villainous from the start. Instead, build a rich, layered cast where everyone feels capable of both kindness and cruelty. Give every important character one flaw, one questionable decision, one secret, or one odd habit that makes readers pause and think, Could it be them? 

The key is consistency. Those little details shouldn't exist simply to mislead the reader, they should genuinely belong to that character. 

It doesn't have to be dramatic. It could be the detective who never quite meets anyone's eye. The grieving husband whose smile feels grossly wrong. The best friend whose mouth twitches whenever they lie. Or someone who repeatedly thinks: She can't possibly know. 

Those tiny behavioural tells create suspicion without screaming, ‘This person is the murderer.’  

Think of Knives Out. Nearly every member of the Thrombey family has a believable motive. They're selfish, entitled, resentful, or simply hiding something. Each could plausibly be guilty, which makes the final reveal satisfying rather than arbitrary.  

2. Use an unreliable narrator 

If there's one shortcut to making readers doubt everything and everyone, it's an unreliable narrator. 

Some of the biggest psychological thrillers – GONE GIRL, THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN, THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW – all use narrators whose versions of events can't be taken at face value. 

An unreliable narrator doesn't have to lie outright. They may misremember events, omit crucial details, distort reality because of trauma, addiction or grief, or simply convince themselves of something that isn't true. 

That uncertainty creates tension from the opening chapters. Readers stop trusting every observation, every conversation and every conclusion. Suddenly everyone becomes suspicious (including the narrator themselves). 

The beauty is that you're not just hiding the villain from the reader. You're hiding them from the person telling the story. What they don’t know, can’t hurt them in the reader’s mind. 

3. Go with the flow 

If you're a pantser like me, you'll probably love this. Some of the best twists are the ones the writer never saw coming. 

When I begin a novel, I usually have an idea of who the villain is. And then, somewhere around the halfway point, one of my characters says or does something that makes me stop and think: Wait... what if it's you instead? 

Those moments are pure magic because they arise naturally from the characters, rather than being forced by the plot. Perhaps the loyal sister suddenly becomes far more interesting than the obvious suspect. Perhaps a seemingly insignificant side character reacts too calmly to a death. Perhaps the victim's best friend has a secret you've unknowingly been building all along. 

When that happens, I don't resist it. I follow the thread. Of course, if the villain changes midway through, the earlier chapters will probably need rewriting. That's perfectly fine. Your first draft is where you discover the story; the subsequent drafts are where you make it look as though you knew the answer all along. 

Some of my favourite plot twists weren't meticulously engineered from page one. They were discovered during the writing process and strengthened during revision. 

4. Plot the trajectory 

Thriller plots, to me, should resemble a zigzag line rather than follow a predictable path. Just when the reader thinks they have figured it out, a blind turn should throw them off the path. 

Easier said than done? Here is my trick: I divide my 90,000-word novels into four or five beats (or as the professionals call them - acts). Before writing each section, I ask myself one question: Who do I want readers to suspect next? 

Clue: The answer is almost never the real villain. 

Each act shifts suspicion onto someone new. Just as readers become convinced they've solved the mystery, new information appears that changes everything. The trick is to keep the actual villain in the background, always present, always seeming to be an innocent bystander. 

The longer you can delay genuine certainty, the more compulsively readers will turn the pages in the final few chapters. The catch, however, is that the ending should never feel like it's come out of nowhere. 

A satisfying reveal has clues scattered throughout the novel: throwaway conversations, overlooked inconsistencies, seemingly innocent objects, or small moments that suddenly take on an entirely different meaning. 

Readers should be able to flip back and think, It was there all along. 

And if those clues aren't in your first draft? Don't panic. That's exactly what editing is for. 

5. Find what works for you 

Like everything in writing, there isn't one formula that works for everyone. People often say you should carefully plot every twist and deliberately steer readers in the wrong direction. That's excellent advice, if you're a planner. 

But if you're a pantser like me, it's much harder to misdirect readers when you don't yet know where your own story is heading. My compromise is to begin with a loose outline built around a four- or five-part structure. I know the emotional beats, the major turning points, and roughly where I want suspicion to fall. Then I start writing. 

More often than not, something changes. The victim changes. The villain changes. Sometimes both. And honestly? That's one of my favourite parts of the process. 

It means the characters have become real enough to surprise me. Once I know where they've led me, I can go back and carefully weave the clues through earlier chapters until the reveal feels both shocking and inevitable. 

Because that's the real trick to hiding a villain in plain sight. The reader shouldn't feel tricked. They should simply close the book and think, I should have seen it coming! 

Shakespeare reckoned that love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. But, honestly, what did he know? And more than that, what did he know about writing?

There are, or can be, four great phases of writing a book.

The first is when you get the idea, when you shape it, when you start to sketch out some plans or some notes. When you dream the damn thing into being.

Here’s where I think you need to have a relentless focus on elevator pitch. What is it, really, that makes this novel irresistible? Right at the outset is when you most need to work at that question.

Then, you have to write the damn thing. Word after word, chapter after chapter, watching that word count tick up until you have a full, fat first draft. For most people, that’s the toughest stretch of the whole thing. It can be for me, but isn’t always. Some books flow. Some need a pair of forceps and two burly surgeons to yank the thing out.

This second phase mostly calls for endurance and self-belief. Honestly, if you want to go through this phase with a totally unrealistic sense of your own wonderfulness, then go for it. Just get the thing written.

Next, you have to edit your draft. Not just once, but again and again. Here’s where craft matters more than anything. Characters, point of view, settings, pacing, deleting the bad stuff, increasing the energy of every page. Craft matters and also just sticking at it. I tend to enjoy editing; I find it slightly addictive. It’s where an unsaleable book starts to come alive. You feel its buoyancy, its spring, its urge to move.

And, mostly, that’s where people stop. They get that book out to agents. They bring it to us for review. They do a course. They scratch at the manuscript, doing another edit or two, taking it to more agents.

All those are good things. Nothing on that list is a bad thing to do.

But there is – or can be – a further step too.

Sometimes, not always, when you bring the book to market – usually an agent, or one of our editors – you hear something that twists your original conception.

Almost always, we have the impulse to deny the thing that we’ve just heard: to pretend we haven’t really heard it at all.

So, let’s say your book is a murder story in some speculative world – where, let’s say, African nations had colonised Europe, not vice versa. That’s a nice idea, and maybe you’re utterly attached to it, but an agent tells you that there’s something awry somewhere. Maybe your murder takes place in London when it needed to take place in Kinshasa. Or you haven’t nailed something key about the investigating officer. Or you’ve hurtled into the action when you needed to take it slowly.

We tend to repel those ideas for, I think, two reasons. The first is that we love our original idea. We have a parental sense of protectiveness around it. The second is that we just can’t bear the work of dismantling and remantling what we’ve done.

And – I hear you. It’s hard. I’ve been there myself.

Truth is though, you need to mourn, think, then get on with it.

If you hear something which your inner self knows to be true (however much you don’t want it to be), you have to go with it. You’ll find, almost certainly:

1. The work involved is less than you thought it would be;
2. The book gets better, and again more than you originally thought.

I’ve experienced this process a gazillion times in the past. Once, with my Little Britain history book, I went from a manuscript that probably would have sold to no one at all to one that sold for a lot of money in a contested auction. It was the input from my agent that produced that outcome: my work, his feel for the market

And yet, lots of people will be reading that last paragraph thinking, yeah, mate, it’s all right for you, you have an agent and most of us don’t.

Which is true.

And that whole stage IV process, which may be critical to your book, relies on getting accurate word back from the market.

Even without an agent, though, you do have options. They are:

1. Send your stuff out to agents and hope that you hear something back, other than silence / rejection. Lots of people won’t get any sort of personalised rejection, but if you do, what an agent says can be meaningful. The emphasis here is on ‘can be.’ A personalised rejection note probably took the agent two or three minutes to write and they have no ongoing obligation to you. And notes of that sort can be wrong. Don’t do something just because an agent suggests it. Do it because they’ve suggested it and it feels right.
   
   
2. Come to us for a manuscript assessment. If your book is genuinely late-stage – that is, close to marketable – you should ask for an editor who has been an agent or commissioning editor. Those are the people who’ll have the best feel for what is and isn’t saleable. (If your book is earlier stage, you’ll probably get more help from an author, who will know a lot more about craft and practical technique. If in doubt, your book is earlier stage: people always overrate their manuscript’s excellence.)
   
   
3. Join us as a Premium Member. We hold regular monthly Q&As with literary agents. Those sessions are an opportunity just to ask, directly, what’s on your mind. Use those opportunities! They can honestly make the difference between success and failure in this game.
   
   
4. Or, simple-bimples, you can just come to us for an Agent One to One. The advantage of that is that you are ensuring that an agent actually reads your work (if you come via the slushpile, your work may be set aside after a page or two.) Also, you are paying for feedback. That feedback may be a little sketchy in comparison to a full manuscript assessment, but the purpose is different. You’re not asking for detailed editorial notes. You’re asking for a sense of where the book does or does not meet the market.

All these options are good, and you may want to use them all. But what I would caution against is relying only on (a). I mean: if you send your stuff out to agents, and someone takes you on, then you’re good to go. Get that contract and see you on next year’s bestseller lists.

But if you try 10-12 sensibly chosen agents and they all say no, I wouldn’t just go to another 10. That’s like throwing handfuls of sand against a closed window and hoping that somehow the sheer number of collisions will force the window open.

If the market says no, understand the reason why. That means doing the research (options b, c or d above) then reconsidering your strategy in the light of that new information.

FEEDBACK FRIDAY / Freedom

We haven’t done elevator pitches for a while, so let’s give that a go.

What is the elevator pitch for your book?

Keep it short and tight. We’re looking for the kind of pitch that will instantly grab an agent’s attention. Simple in theory, crucial in practice – and hard to get right. When it's ready post in the Townhouse Forum.

Til soon.

Harry

Ever felt overwhelmed when you’re choosing a book to read? With over two million new titles published worldwide every year, the feeling is inevitable.  

So how can a new writer break through the noise?  

What you need is a brilliant hook: that irresistible question or situation that makes agents, and readers, want to get stuck into your novel (instead of the next book/phone game/YouTube reel).  

But a strong hook is only half the story. Woe betide the author whose hook doesn’t deliver. Agents and readers alike get mad when they don’t get what they expect.   

So how do you find a powerful, and authentic, hook that’ll seduce and satisfy readers? I’ve helped hundreds of new and established writers with theirs, and here’s what I know...

Hooks and pitches

First of all, what exactly is a hook? And how is it different to an elevator pitch?   

The hook is a sentence or two that creates the desire to read on. It usually poses a story question or introduces a fascinating character and conflict. If you can't hook your reader, it's game over. 

The pitch is longer: a paragraph or two that’s like the description printed on the back of the book. This can also be used in email queries to agents. 

And the elevator pitch is the shortest: a super pithy pitch for when you’re in a Hollywood elevator with the director of your dreams and have only the journey time to make them fall in love with your project. It works best with high-concept ideas and often uses memorable comparisons:  Alien was pitched as 'Jaws in space'.   

To break this down, let’s take one of this year's biggest debuts, Caro Claire Burke's Yesteryear. The title is already part of the hook: it’s the name of the farm where it’s set, it captures the nostalgia the influencer heroine sells to her followers, and it’s where she ends up trapped.  

I don’t have access to the elevator pitch that persuaded Amazon MGM and Anne Hathaway to snap up movie rights. But I’d guess at something like: A tradwife influencer who pretends to live a homestead life wakes up in 1855.  

And the slightly longer hook would be something like:    

When a tradwife influencer with eight million followers wakes up in 1855, she must discover if it’s a hoax, a reality show, or something more sinister to escape the brutal homestead life. 

Immediately, readers and agents want to know why, and what happens. We also see the irony in this ‘fake’ having to experience the bitter reality she’s been acting out. The best high-concept ideas have conflict built in, alongside surprise or irony. 

Hook-finding, step-by-step

If getting your hook right sounds high stakes, that's because it is. But don't panic: I promise you it’s there, waiting to be uncovered. The secret is to go step-by-step. Try to see your book afresh – I find using Post-its or a pen and a big sheet of paper more freeing than sitting at your laptop.  

Think about these three aspects of your book. Note down all the elements that occur to you:   

Character 

Who is your protagonist and what fascinating qualities would make a reader want to spend a whole book in their company? What aspect of their struggle and pain will resonate?  

Where there are two central characters, the relationship between them, or their mirrored journeys, may be the hook.  

Set-up and setting

What conflict are you setting up and where? Settings aren’t a hook on their own. The influencer’s farm in Yesteryear is interesting, but it needs the mystery of the time-slip element to make it irresistible.  

So, it’s not enough just to set your book in a war zone or a magical forest. What big unanswered question makes us keep turning the pages to reach the end? 

Style and approach 

If you’re writing a more literary novel, or non-fiction, considering your style and approach might hold the key to locating your hook. Your stylistic choices might be a hook in themselves – from an unusual narrator, such as an animal, to using letters or emails to tell the story (see Virginia Evans’s hit, The Correspondent). For non-fiction, you might be approaching a familiar topic in a fresh way, with new discoveries.  

Now, look at the strongest options...  

Try turning each of the points you’ve come up with into a question. You might combine elements, as in Yesteryear, which combines the mystery with anti-heroine Natalie’s acidic voice to keep readers hooked.  

The question that will help you decide if your hook works  

Imagine a reader has just finished your book. How will they enthuse to a friend about it?  

'It's about a judgy tradwife influencer who gets sent back to the 1800s and can't work out why', or 'it's about this female scientist who changes women’s lives by presenting a TV cooking show.’

But does your book keep the promise?

The hook needs to be outstanding, but it also needs to be true to your book. When you're looking for an agent, they need to know the hook works all the way through. And after publication the same applies: readers let rip in one-star reviews if you don’t keep the promise of the hook. 

So, if your hook highlights one character, is their journey the main one in the book? A multi-POV novel might frustrate readers who want quality time with your most fascinating creation.  

And does your character change or grow? Static characters are strictly for sit-coms. 

If your hook is the set-up, does that drive the whole story? If it starts with a bloody crime and ends as a love story, you need to reflect that flip in your hook.  

Likewise, if your hook is an unusual narrator or form, does it deliver, or is it a gimmick? 

Your hook and story question must be resolved in a satisfying way. ‘It was all a dream’ means your problem is your book, not your hook! 

When the hook exposes a crack...

But if identifying your hook does reveal structural issues in the book, that’s useful. Now you have the chance to fix those before you submit to agents or indie-publish.  

Print out what you want the hook to be and keep it visible as you edit. As you work, ask yourself if every scene and chapter in your book takes you closer to fulfilling the promise you’ve made your readers.

Feel the fear and hook it anyway!

Don't be scared of hooks. It takes work to reveal them but it's worth the effort. I love working with writers and helping them find their hooks on the Path to Publication course – and it's amazing how radically these improve. An outsider can often spot instantly what appeals about a book you've been writing for years. 

So, when the competition makes you feel overwhelmed, remember: a powerful hook will help get your book noticed. But delivering on that hook from first page to last is what'll make your book loved.

Interested in receiving direct support and feedback from Kate on our next Path to Publication course? This intensive programme help you navigate the world of traditional publishing and leave you with the best chance of getting your book published. To have the course brochure and some further information about the course delivered straight to your inbox, fill in this form. As always, you can unsubscribe from email about Jericho Writers courses at any time.

As someone who has been a part of the industry for over twelve years and has cultivated a vast network of contacts ranging from bestselling authors to top agents and publishers, there are many things I have come to learn that can help you catch a literary agent’s attention, or quite simply, get your manuscript to publishable standard.

1. Hook

Perhaps the best and simplest way to elevate your novel and make it immediately noteworthy is to have a hook in the opening. Be it via prologue or an interesting main character, your novel must instantly grip the reader’s attention. This is particularly true if you’re writing book club fiction or thrillers. Even with literary fiction, the pressure is mounting to have punchy opening sentences. The industry is swamped with manuscripts and literary agents are having to sift through hundreds of submissions a week, so naturally, their focus will be on the opening pages. Make sure your novel grips them refuses to let go.

2. Light and shade

A major tip I have come to learn in all my years as a writer and editor is the technique of light and shade. When writing book club fiction or genre fiction that revolves around a dark topic, writers can sometimes focus too much on the dark, thereby depressing the reader and potentially leading them to stop reading. No matter how dark your topic might be, it is important to include light moments in your story, because there is only so much tension and turmoil a reader can take. There should always be some light at the end of the tunnel.

3. Setting

If you want a literary agent to take your novel seriously, don’t just focus on your characters. Focus on the setting as well. In some cases, the role of setting can be so immense that it can double as a character. Think of The Haunting of Hill House and how the house becomes a character. Similarly, The Yellow Wallpaper is another valid example. Just like a reader, a literary agent wants to be swept up in the story… they want to be taken on a journey. All of that is only possible if you elevate your setting.

4. Being sure of your genre

A sure shot way of catching a literary agent or publisher’s attention is to be sure of your genre. Write your novel according to the genre. If it’s literary fiction, you don’t need to follow a certain format, like you would with crime fiction. If you’re writing book club fiction, make sure the reader keeps turning the pages, because that’s what the genre demands. If your novel falls within the parameters of a particular genre, you’ve already increased your chances of getting published significantly.

5. Don't chase trends

Quit chasing trends. Write what you know and want to write, not what’s selling. By the time you finish writing according to a certain trend, it may be that the trend is out of fashion. It happens all the time in the industry, when a particular genre becomes a thing, and after a while, so many books are written in that genre that the market gets saturated. However, when you write from your heart about a topic that is close to you or feels right to you, you are not chasing trends. You are writing your truth as a writer, and that will show in your work.

6. Shock doesn't sell

Shock doesn’t sell. Going into graphic and gory details only serves to put off readers unless the genre or character demands it. Similarly, graphic language is only acceptable when the plot demands it. Gratuitous use of shock degrades your writing and makes the events in your story a bit unbelievable. Character motivation is what matters; graphic detail of their speech and actions doesn’t.

Awais Khan is a tutor on the Ultimate Novel Writing Programme. To find out more about the course, visit the web page or fill in this form and we’ll send the brochure straight to your inbox. Want to sense-check your story idea? Fancy meeting Awais one-to-one to see how working with him could help you? Book a twenty-minute mentoring session with him here. If you go on to study with us, we’ll credit the cost of the session back to you.