With numerous successful novels to her name, guest author and blogger Eve Seymour has cemented herself as a master of the thriller genre. In this post, Eve shares her secrets on how to write thrillers you just can’t put down.
1: Focus on characterisation
Whatever the genre, strong, memorable main protagonists are important. In thrillers, they are absolutely vital and can make or break a story. Irrespective of gender, if your main player lacks the tenacity and determination to crack the code or conspiracy, locate the kidnap victim or hunt a murderer, he is pretty much sunk before that opening chapter is penned. So if your main player would rather file his/her nails, watch sport on TV, or stay in bed, think again.
In a similar vein, boredom and cynicism are no defence for inactivity and ‘seeing how things pan out.’ The main protagonist needs to at least make a stab at being in control of events, rather than behind the curve, even if he fails due to the many obstacles thrown in his path.
Notwithstanding all of the above, there’s no need for your central character to be an angel. Crime fiction and thrillers are littered with flawed individuals. Drink and relationship problems, sometimes inextricably linked, and failure to commit are popular attributes. It’s easier for readers to empathise with characters who have identifiable weaknesses and failures and who, at times, seem just like us. Recently, there’s been a trend towards characters that are morally ambiguous. This can be a thorny path to tread for the new writer and requires the utmost skill to pull off. Probably best not discussed here.
It may be stating the obvious, but an octogenarian with a limp isn’t going to cut it with the bad guys. The obvious simple fix is to ensure that your main man (or woman) is young enough or fit enough to run like hell – even if in the opposite direction. More importantly, they must be smart. This does not mean they are members of MENSA, but they do need to be bright and have a measure of psychological insight, (which means that writers need to too). Street cunning and being able to think outside the proverbial box also goes a long way to defeat enemies of whatever persuasion.
Which brings me to those pesky ‘bad guys.’
It’s not enough to refer to shadowy dark forces doing dastardly things in dungeons. Give your foe a face. Let the reader hear an antagonist’s voice, see how he behaves, take a trip inside his mind and let’s hope it terrifies because a main protagonist is only as ever good as the main villain. This is where a writer can really pull out all the stops. Seems easy, doesn’t it? And yet, to avoid stereotype and caricature, coming up with convincing antagonists is harder than it sounds. The best way to avoid obvious pitfalls is to ensure that your bad guy or femme fatale ticks with his or her own internal logic, even if he/she seems nuts to the rest of us. How to do this? Look at motivation and backstory, and ensure both are watertight and credible.
Still on the subject of characterisation, there’s a school of thought that writers somehow have to choose between characterisation, or plot. In truth, the two are indivisible because, although a story can unfold in a variety of ways, these are self-limiting due to the particular attributes of character.
To take a facile example: say your main guy is an estate agent. He’s unlikely to grab an MP5, eliminate the opposition, board a helicopter, grab the controls (and the girl) and fly off into the great blue yonder even if this is to suit the purposes of plot.
While coincidence occurs in real life, it’s harder to pull off in fiction and yet often writers will write characters that just happen to be on the right street at the right time, enabling them to randomly carry out an action critical to the story. Sounds vague? That’s because it is.
While coincidences can occur at the beginning of a story – a killer claps eyes on his victim – random events fare less well if dumped into the plot mid-way. The obvious faux pas is when a random event occurs to get the writer out of a hole, a classic case of Deus Ex Machina. When applied to an ending, the result can be excruciating.
3: Ensure every scene contains plenty of ‘turning points’ or revelations to drive the narrative forward
When creating a scene, ensure that you give enough away to compel the reader to keep turning those pages, or clicking the side of a Kindle. While you might be able to confine this to a minimum number in other genres, in thrillers there’s a requirement for numerous ‘turning points’ or revelations to sustain the narrative and guarantee exceptional pace and tension. If a scene doesn’t ‘turn’, then, as brutal as it is, it has to go.
It’s known as ‘murdering your little darlings’, and nobody likes blood on their hands. It can be dispiriting to chop lovingly written material, containing tons of detail and exposition, but, sadly, no ‘turning points’.
However, information alone won’t cut it.
Everything must be relevant to the main thrust of the story. If your main man is en route to question a potential suspect, he’s not going to drop into Costa for a coffee and baguette en route, or spend time discussing Christmas plans or his next salsa class with his best mate first. It’s really tough to excise a perfectly decent or beautifully written scene but if it doesn’t drive the story forward, your best option is to hit the delete button.
A good tip when creating a scene is to think about the situation in which the main protagonist finds himself. Simplistically, if things are going roughly his way, then mix things up and throw in a few obstacles so that, as the plot develops and he makes more discoveries (relevant to the main plot line), his situation turns from not too bad to not too good. The reverse also works (to a point). With more and more (hopefully grim) revelations, and pressure put on your main protagonist, clearly the ‘bad days’ will outnumber the ‘good days’, as he finds himself boxed more and more into a corner. If you do this, before you know it, tension will be as taut as cheese wire.
This is really the incestuous cousin of the above. Some writers are natural scene-setters. They love the build up. They love description – and they are very good at it. That’s grand and most definitely has its place but it cannot be a substitute for telling the story, or a delaying tactic for ‘getting on with it’.
‘Cut to the chase’ is one of my most overused pleas. The trick is to understand what’s important and what isn’t. Nine times out of ten, less is more. This particularly applies to the writer who ‘overwrites’ or ‘covers old ground’.
More often than not, this will occur around the halfway mark and it usually signifies that the plot is in trouble and the author has run out of steam. As a basic rule, if the reader is made aware, for example, that great aunt Ida is a bit of a cow, there is no need to remind the reader at any and every opportunity. We get it.
Aside from resisting the urge to bash the reader over the head with something already well established in the text, there is a very good reason for heeding this advice. Superfluous exposition has a deadly effect on pace and tension. Before you know it, the reader will be thinking about what’s for dinner and whether there’s time to nip to the gym. A good way to avoid the story running into ‘snooze time’ is to read it aloud. If you start to flag after a chapter or two, the reader stands no chance.
5: Avoid dreams, memories, recollections and flashbacks
Unless applied with exceptional skill to ‘turn’ a scene, in which case they can be used for dramatic effect, these are instant pace-slowers. For some reason writers can be quite taken with dream sequences and recollections. Perhaps it’s the freedom to go ‘off piste.’ Scenic detours, like these, may well work in other genres, but in thrillers, when focus is a key issue, they can overshoot their intended destination. Not only do they interfere with strong narrative drive in what must be a fast moving plot line, they puncture tension.
As mentioned, there is an exception to the ‘rule’. A flashback or recollection might emerge during the last third of a novel when a character suddenly remembers something that has a bearing on current events. If used within the climactic scene, they can be used to stunning effect because they throw an original and illuminating light on the denouement. It’s a cliché but, for example, if good guy comes face to face with bad guy, and is about to kill him in self-defence, the good guy might recollect to playing with his (missing) brother as a kid, and recognise the birthmark on his arm.
The effect on the reader should be an emotional one, i.e., ‘Blimey, didn’t see that one coming.’
6: Collect two types of research: ‘Nuts and bolts’ and emotional
Both are essential for authenticity and quite distinct from each other. ‘Nuts and bolts’ might be research into police procedure, forensics or ballistics, and all the permutations in between. Imagination will only carry you so far.
Basically, you can’t take the procedure out of the police procedural, or the military out of the action adventure. Today’s crime readers are so sophisticated that they can sniff out lack of authenticity at fifty paces. Many will give the average crime or thriller writer a run for his or her money when it comes to knowledge. Unless you’re an ex-con, intelligence officer, police officer, in the military, with inside knowledge at your fingertips, you’ll need to get out and about and research.
Google is a good starting point, but if we all write according to the Gospel according to St. Google, then our stories will wind up with same or similar shout-lines. I’m a fan of multiple sources. If you have a library, use it to check out your chosen subject. But, and it’s a big one, nothing beats approaching people ‘in the know.’ Most folk respond to a friendly and polite approach, especially if the ‘help’ word is applied. While I wouldn’t suggest rocking up at your local police station to bend ears, there are other avenues to pursue, via police press officers.
If you’re really stumped, there are now plenty of recently retired police officers that, for a fee, will walk you through an investigation. Similarly, pathologists, ballistics experts and crime scene examiners are normally happy to talk about their favourite subject.
If you can ferret out a tame source, you’ll get a feel for how things roll. In the interests of research, I’ve flown in helicopters, spent a memorable evening with firearms officers in a laser-simulated training suite, flown to Berlin and Barcelona, both for location hunts, and talked to people working at the United Nations and those connected to various charities involved with refugees and victims of war.
All this comes with a warning: if you’ve spent your hard-earned money on obtaining information or oceans of time fact finding, there is a temptation to slay the reader with your newly acquired fund of knowledge. This is where I refer you back to point number 4. A few books ago, an editor once told me: ‘This is really interesting, Eve, but it doesn’t add anything to your story. Cut.’
I did. Lesson learned.
‘Write what you know’ is a well-used, and occasionally misunderstood, phrase. While we may all believe that our existences are thrilling, not many of us lead the kind of lives that will translate easily into great page-turning thrillers. So what does ‘write what you know’ really mean? It means you draw on personal emotional experience. Just saying someone is sad or angry won’t cut it.
This is where emotional research comes in.
All writers are amateur psychologists. We need to know how people tick and how they respond. While you might not experience what it’s like to be shot at, you will know what fear feels like, just like you’ll know how it feels to have loved and lost, loved and found the woman or man of your dreams, got the job you always wanted, failed to get the job you always wanted, passed your driving test, or failed it for the millionth time and, dare I say, obtain agent representation after slogging away for years, or feel the cutting pain associated with your umpteenth rejection.
In essence, we all know what it’s like to feel lonely and unhappy, elated and sad, frustrated and angry and everything in between. These are the emotions you draw on for your characters so that, when you describe them, they are a true representation.
‘Okay,’ you might say, ‘I can do all of the above, but how do I write about something well outside my sphere of experience, for example, the trauma associated with violent crime, either as perpetrator or victim?’
Simply put, it’s hard to avoid cliché, stereotype, and melodrama when tapping into trauma, if you have no direct experience of it. Again, crime readers are bloodhounds at spotting false notes. Best advice is to, firstly, ensure that the stakes are raised high in your story so that characters are forced to grapple with powerful, life-on-the-line events. Be bold in this regard. Think of the worst that can happen to your character then make sure it does. This way, you’ll ensure that your characters are properly motivated to respond truthfully.
Sneak right under their skins and imagine the extremes of human behaviour and what it does to people. But, before you do this, climb under your own skin and dig deep. You may well be surprised, maybe even shocked, at what you find loitering beneath. Whatever you unearth, this is what you use as a foundation for your character’s response.
If this doesn’t work, you could always try a more ‘nuts and bolts’ approach, and talk to a psychologist or someone trained to help people who have encountered tragedy in their lives.
7: Take a big breath and read aloud
You’re a writer. You love stories. You’re interested in words and their correct spelling. You go all tingly when your sentences flow and convey your magical (or should I say your diabolical) world. So ensure you take the time to read the entire manuscript aloud to pick up on pesky typos, clumsy sentences, repeat words in consecutive sentences, verbal ‘tics’, punctuation and grammatical errors, and mysterious verb tense changes. Avert your eyes now if you are of a sensitive nature.
In three words: ‘This. Stuff. Matters.’
And it’s no good thinking that you can wing it.
If you don’t know the difference between ‘there’, ‘their’ and ‘they’re,’ or ‘where’ and ‘were’, do yourself a favour and learn. On occasion I’ve been told that ‘Agent Bloggs will be so knocked out by the story, it won’t matter …’, and ‘The copy-editor will fix it …’, as if he or she has a handy magic wand with which to transform your less than perfectly polished prose.
Agents receive so many submissions they can afford to be picky. If your lovingly crafted story is set aside due to a multiplicity of errors on the first page, it stands no chance of reaching the fairy copy-editor. Your hard work would be wasted. And that would be a shame.
Very best of luck.
Eve is one of our many published editors, giving help and encouragement to authors at every stage of their writing journey. Find out more about getting editorial feedback with us.