Guest Blogger: Karen McCullough
I an absolutely thrilled to have mystery writer Karen McCullough on my blog today as I adore mysteries. I'm anxious to read what she has to say about plotting mysteries, so I won't waste any more time...
Plotting a Mystery When You’re Not a Plotter
When it comes to writing a novel, writers tend to divide into two camps, the plotters and the pantsers. The plotters generally outline the story in some detail, from beginning to end, and do character charts or plot diagrams before they start writing. Pantsers get a good idea and sit down to start writing. Hence the term “pantsers.” They write by the seat of their pants.
Of course those are two extremes and most writers actually tend toward one side or the other but not necessarily all the way. Not all plotters do extensive character charts and not all pantsers fly into the mist without a clue about the story line.
It seems like a given that mystery novels benefit from the plotter approach. Don’t you have to know the answer to the puzzle to plant all the right clues in the right places?
My personal answer is yes—sort of. I generally describe myself as a pantser. I prefer not to know too much about a story when I start writing it. I’ll generally have a good idea of how it starts and how it ends, with a few ideas about what comes in between. I usually know enough to be able to write an outline for my editor, but just the bare bones of the structure. I once wrote a long, detailed outline for a story, but by the time I finished it, I’d lost all interest in actually writing the novel.
But mysteries do require careful construction. You do have to place the clues carefully, interspersed with an appropriate bunch of red herrings. The characters have to be right for the story and behave in believable ways. How can you do that when you don’t start with knowing all the intricacies?
No two writers do things exactly the same way, but I’ve developed a technique that works for me. I start with a general idea of how the story begins, usually the finding of a body or setting up the conflict that will result in a crime. I usually have a pretty good idea who the guilty party will turn out to be. And I know who my detective will be, and why he or she has an important stake in the solving of the mystery.
But I don’t always know how it was done or why or even which clues will turn out to be important for the solution.
I write around that problem by creating what I think of as a rich environment in the story. I create a set of character who might all have a motive to commit the crime. I show a number of events that might have a bearing on the crime. I offer a lot of details that circle around the crime, some of which could provide evidence or suggestions.
My decision to set my new mystery series at a trade show almost automatically provides a gushing well of possibilities to use in stories. So many things go on at trade shows, so many cross-currents of cooperation, jealousy, spying, bad-mouthing, back-stabbing, love affairs, and friendships develop.
Obviously not all of the things I show will turn out to be relevant. Some characters, events and objects will provide interesting and possibly related subplots, like the question of one character’s motivation for the help he provides my detective heroine in A GIFT FOR MURDER. And some things are there mostly to test the resolve of the detective and develop her character, like the whole popcorn machine subplot in the same book.
In truth I can’t really tell you how or why it actually comes together in the end. There’s a bit of trust involved in my investment in writing a mystery novel. But it seems like it always happens that somewhere about one half to two-thirds of the way through the story I have an “Aha” moment where I realize what my subconscious has been telling me throughout the writing. I know who did it and can show the chain of clues that led to that conclusion.
And, yes, it does sometimes mean that I have to go back and rewrite earlier chapters to plant a new clue here or there, put a new slant on an event or make subtle changes to the characters. But it comes together, sometimes in ways that even I find surprising. And that’s the real joy of writing for me, and why plotting too deeply ahead of time doesn’t work for me.
I want to learn the answer to the puzzle right along with the characters I’m writing about.
---
Thank you so much, Karen! That was a fascinating look at how a mystery writer tackles the creative process.
I hope folks will leave comments for Karen and visit her at her website at: http://www.kmccullough.com/
Characterization and Plot
Some of the writing groups I belong to have recently brought up the question of how to prevent the dreaded "sagging middle" in their stories. This is where the book stops being a page-turner and becomes something you read to put you to sleep at night.
Strangely enough, the most common method of trying to correct for this doesn't really work. Often, a writer will just throw more danger at the hapless heroine or hero. For example, if the hero is fighting with a bunch of bad guys, the author may just add a few more bad guys or one more bigger-and-badder fight.
Other writers hear the advice "upping the ante" and layer on an "Oh, my gosh, they're going to blow up the world!" moment. Which, while logically you would think would make it more exciting because everyone might die, "everyone" is sort of vague and faceless, and frankly, we don't really care. Interestingly, that's why in the Big Disaster Movies, they always focus on the life-or-death of individual characters and their loved ones--in the midst of the world coming to an end. Because it's the individuals we care about, emotionally.
So really, what can you do?
Here's what I do. I ask a really simple question: What's the worst that can happen to the heroine? (Or hero--depending upon your story.) Hint: the answer isn't: she might die. Nope. The worst is what gives that character nightmares. It's probably easiest if I give you a stupid, but fairly concrete example.
You have a heroine who is painfully shy. I mean painfully, agonizingly shy. She stammers when she tries to talk. Stammers horribly. And the sad part is, she's a brilliant biologist, and can write papers that are wonderful, but she just can't talk in public. Or even very well one-on-one. She can't think on her feet. Fortunately, she doesn't have to worry about it, because she gets a fantastic job for an articulate scientist who can present her information and do the glad-handing necessary to get them grants for their research, etc.
So...what's the worst thing that can happen to her?
Her boss comes down with laryngitis right before he has to present their research at a symposium, and their next critical grant depends upon that presentation. If someone doesn't do the presentation, they'll not only lose face at the symposium, but they'll lose the grant and she'll potentially lose her job (and you know she's horrible at job interviews because she is so inarticulate).
And guess what? She's the only one available to do the presentation.
Now THAT's upping the ante and creating tension. And if you really want to be cruel and make the big dark moment even darker--make her flub up that presentation. They think they're going to have to shut down their research. Then give her a sliver of hope that if she and her boss can talk to Mr. Big, they might get enough money to continue. But then, they have to face a worse horror. Something happens to her boss (he has a heart attack? Grabbed by an evil dude?) and it's now up to her to talk their way out of the situation and get the grant--whether that is to get help or talk a bad guy out of killing them...whatever. And what if she's in love with her boss? If she can't talk eloquently enough, she'll lose everything...the grant (her job), and possibly her boss's life.
Guess she'd better get to that speech therapist, after all.
You'll notice with this last twist that it doesn't work if you just have her speaking in front of another large group--even though she may be even more jittery after failing the first time. No. You can't do the same thing a second time. You have to present a different opportunity to fail--an opportunity that is different (and preferrably more personal) than the first challenge.
What you should be picking up from this is that creating tension and that "page turner" quality is all about identifying the worst thing that could happen to a character, and making it happen. And then twisting it to make it worse.
And each of these "opportunities for magnificent failure" has to be different. If it's the same, even if it's rife with bigger-badder-ness, it's going to just feel like more of the same. These challenges must come from unexpected directions. You're looking for that "Where did that come from?" and "I didn't see that one coming" reaction from your reader.
Conversely, in order to have a successful (and happy) ending, you need to know What is the best thing that can happen to this character? What does he or she really, really want? And then figure out how to let her earn that ending.
So all you need when you sit down to write a novel are the answers to these two questions:
- What is the worst thing that can happen to this character?
- What is the best thing that can happen to this character?
From those, you'll be able to write a story that grips the reader and keeps her turning pages long into the night.
