Sorry for
the blast of posts this week. Feel free
to blame it on my love of storytelling—my own and other peoples. Or rampant consumerism. Or on me wanting to pay rent in January. Any one of these answers is true.
But now...
let’s get back to some plain old writing advice.
Readers
tend to love a good mystery. It’s
kind of like the original VR game, where we get to see all the same clues and
evidence as the protagonists and try to piece them together first. We do it with books. We do it with TV
shows. Hell, there are some fantastic comic books you can do it with.
Alan Moore made a compelling argument once that comics are the perfect
medium for mystery stories.
As writers,
let’s be honest. Mysteries are
tough. They need to be in that perfect
sweet spot—not so tough they’re impossible, but not so easy that my reader
solves it before my character does (and then my character looks stupid for the next 150 pages for not figuring this out yet).
Plus,
there’s so much to keep track of. Who
saw what. Where they saw it. When they saw it. These are all super-important, because
readers hate it when they get to the end of a mystery and find a gaping hole
there. It’s probably the second-most
annoying thing I can do when I’m writing a mystery.
(And now
I’ve got you all wondering, don’t I...?)
At the
Writers Coffeehouse a few weeks back, one of our regulars, Hal Bodner,
offered a brilliant tip for writing mysteries. It eliminates this issue almost
altogether. Honestly, it’s so clever...
it’s the whole point of this little rant.
If you’ve
ever seen or read an older mystery, they almost always have a chapter near the
end when our fearless detective (or sleuths or investigators or what have you)
bring all the suspects together and walk them through the crime. They’ll go over the evidence, the clues, the
alibis. They’ll explain what each one
means, which ones were red herrings, which ones they immediately discounted,
and which ones pointed to...you, Widow Humphries! Or should we call you, Isabella, the
Viscount’s estranged sister!!
You know
this scene, right? I’ve heard it called
the parlor scene, the tea room room speech, the summation gathering, and other
titles along those lines. Hal called it the detective's speech. You might
still catch it today on shows like Elementary, although it’s often pared
down to just the detective and the guilty party.
So... here’s the tip.
So... here’s the tip.
Write that
scene. Even if my hard-boiled action story doesn’t
really call for it, I should spend a day or three and write it out before I get
going. Have my investigator pace the
room and point at people and say how he noticed this and saw those and learned
about this. Explain how this theory was
discarded and where that idea came from.
And then point that finger right at the guilty party and scream “J’ACCUSE!!”
Or maybe
your detective plays it cooler than mine and just stands there with her hands
in her trenchcoat. Maybe she gives a
little nod and a faint smile when the murderer gets hauled away. And then she
pulls out her flask and crawls deep inside until she can re-bury all those
memories about Jenna that this case dragged up again...
Anyway...
I don’t
need to keep this scene, mind you.
Very likely this will just be one of those things I write that doesn’t get used. Probably best if it
isn’t. Like I mentioned above, it’s kind
of an archaic, cliche scene, and on the off chance it shows up it’s really
pared down and tight.
But once I
have it written out, I have a mini-outline for how the mystery is revealed in my
story. Literally, who knows what
when. When they met the suspects. What they see. When they see it. When they make which
connections. It’s all right there in
that speech—what my investigator needs to solve the crime.
So gather
your suspects—yes, even the butler—get them all seated in the parlor, and tell
us about the first thing you noticed when you saw the crime scene.
Next time, I wanted to talk about Luke’s father.
Next time, I wanted to talk about Luke’s father.
Until then,
go write.