Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: You Have the Right to Learn About the Miranda Warning

By DL Williams

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“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law…or in a good tabloid story.” Leslie Nielsen in the 1988 police comedy, The Naked Gun.

Once upon a time there was a fellow by the name of Ernesto Miranda who did not play well with others. He spent the bulk of his life in jails and prison, and that revolving cell door pattern would continue for the rest of his life until he died from stab wounds incurred during a 1976 bar fight. His life was one of rage and pain and waste. 

But he changed criminal investigations forever. 

In 1963 Miranda kidnapped and sexually assaulted an eighteen-year-old woman in Phoenix, Arizona. The woman Miranda attacked was able to provide a solid description, as well as the make, model, color, and partial license plate of his pickup. Phoenix P.D. officers picked him up, whereupon detectives put him in a lineup and interrogated him until he confessed. Miranda was found guilty at trial, which is when the story takes a turn. 

The case was appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, where the conviction was thrown out stemming from the fact the detectives had not adequately ensured Mr. Miranda understood his Fifth Amendment right to be silent while being questioned as a criminal suspect, as well as his Sixth Amendment right to have an attorney present during interrogation by the police. 

To be clear, the Phoenix officers did some solid police work, but the times, they were a-changin’, and so was legal precedent. Few police professionals had thought about reminding suspects they had constitutional rights, and the very idea of giving people accused of violent crimes such a reminder would have been about as popular as a cop walking into a squad room wearing a duty belt under a tutu.

The Miranda vs. Arizona ruling changed everything when it came to police interrogations. Nowadays, as I’m sure you’ve surmised from police procedurals in films and novels, officers dutifully issue the warning at the point of arrest as a matter of routine and departmental policy. 

I wonder how many times we’ve heard fictional cops recite the Miranda warning on television. I bet you could list the whole thing from memory the next time you make a citizen’s arrest.  I should point out a couple of things before we continue: 

1. It’s best to not have your cop character recite Miranda from memory. I’ll tell you why in a minute.

2. Most of the time, it’s best to avoid making a citizen’s arrest in real life. It’s dangerous, it can get you sued, and you’ll end up on someone’s social media feed looking like a big old citizens’-arrest-making doofus. 

It's conceivable you’re writing about a police detective or patrol officer who will wind up reading the warning. You have some wiggle room depending on how detailed you want to be with the project, so let’s examine a few ways Miranda can or should be applied so that you can make informed decisions as you delve deeper into your work in progress. 

The Miranda Warning must be read to a criminal suspect if that person is not allowed to leave and the questions to be posed by the police investigators could be used against the suspect at trial. Both elements must be in place for the warning to be required. So, your protagonist might make an arrest but have no plans to ask follow-up questions. In this case, your fictional cop might not give the Miranda Warning at all. 

An example is the arrest of a man for an outstanding warrant for failure to pay child support. The warrant was discovered when a patrol officer pulled him over for speeding through a school zone, and a check of the driver’s license through the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) resulted in a warrant “hit.” The officer in this scenario has no involvement in the child support case, so there is no reason to ask questions about it. Thus, the officer would most likely serve the warrant but not ask the suspect anything about it. 

An investigator may also opt against giving the warning if she wants to ask potentially incriminating questions but has no plans to make an immediate arrest. In this instance, she could ask questions as long as she lets the suspect leave when questioning is done. This is a legally sound strategy, albeit a risky one. Conceivably, the suspect could confess to the beheading of his ex-wife, and the detective would still have to let him go. That’s not to say she couldn’t go get an arrest warrant and pick him up later, but an axe murderer is walking the streets in the meantime. 

I used this technique twice in my career. In one of those instances, I was out on a case and working alone. I suspected a young man of participating in a gang-related shooting the day before. I’d learned from an informant that the man had helped the shooting suspect by picking up the spent bullet casings at the crime scene. He was in hot water for tampering with evidence, but he was also a witness to the actual shooting. I needed him to cooperate, and I had to make some quick decisions to make that happen. 

The young man was stronger and faster than me. Arresting him alone could have gotten someone hurt (probably me, if we’re being honest), and it also would have shut down any chance of getting him to talk to me. Asking him questions about the part he played in the aftermath of the shooting would incriminate him, but I was certain giving him his rights in that moment would have spooked him. Thus, I asked about the shooting and suggested (honestly) that his cooperation could help him if and when he was arrested for the evidence tampering charge. 

Using this tactic requires officers to be fully transparent about their intentions. Suspects can’t read minds, and many believe they are not free to go at any time. It is incumbent upon the officer to make it clear throughout the interview that the person being questioned is not in custody. Thus, an investigating officer would literally say, “Listen, you’re free to go, but I’d appreciate a few minutes of your time.” 

This also means the officer’s body language must match what she said. She can’t stand between the person being questioned and the exit door so there is no confusion about how and where the person can leave. Your fictional detective will likely keep the conversational tone light, and it is always best practice to record the conversation, so judges and juries know she was upfront with her intentions and upheld her commitment. 

I mentioned earlier that it is a good idea for cops to refrain from giving the warning from memory. It looks slick on film, but it can be awkward in real life if you stumble over the wording or leave out one of the required elements entirely. This can happen when adrenaline is up, so every detective I’ve ever known carried a laminated copy of the warning in their badge wallet. 

This can also be a crucial element at trial. A defense attorney might ask the testifying officer if he gave the warning from memory. An inexperienced officer might answer, “I did it from memory,” with a smug look on his face, thinking this is some sort of IQ test he just passed. 

Unfortunately, his day just got a little longer, because the next question out of the attorney’s mouth will be, “Would you please recite that for us now…from memory.” 

I don’t care how tough you are or how comfortable you feel talking in front of a judge, jury, the accused, the lawyers for the accused, and an audience watching the trial. You are going to mess up when called upon to recite under such duress, at which point the attorney will make hay out of the suspicion you didn’t correctly provide the suspect his rights. 

Conversely, if you testify you read the Miranda Warning off a laminated card, the attorney is likely to drop the entire line of questioning. It’s safer and more professional, and it is simply a better way to get the job done. 

I have one more thought on the Miranda Warning. Yes, it can be a bit of a hassle, and it might be the catalyst for the suspect to clam up and ask for a lawyer. It is also true that hardened criminals who have been in and out of prison most of their life know the warning as well as you or I. However, I came to a conclusion some years back that the warning is also a reminder to good police officers that the people we suspect of horrible crimes are still endowed with certain rights. We’re the good guys, and remembering to treat even the worst offenders as suspects instead of as guilty by our own opinions is how we stay right with the law and with the ethics we swore to uphold. Onward!

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night: Effective Use of Weather to Create Tension and Introduce an Atmosphere of Menace

By Carol Willis

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Dark atmosphere and ominous weather can be effective ways to immediately introduce tension and establish a menacing mood. Let’s look at several psychological thrillers for a few excellent examples. Consider Imran Mahmood’s gripping thriller, I Know What I Saw (2021). The book begins with ominous weather:  

The sky is a bruised sea. It threatens to burst and split the night. 

These two sentences are short, but they create tension and a dark mood. I promise to not bog you down in grammar, but let’s linger on these two sentences a bit longer and consider the word choice. The image of a “bruised sea” immediately invokes an image of violence; a violence that is expansive and dark and deep as an ocean. Then look at the second line. "Threatens" is the main verb in the present tense and "to burst and split" is an infinitive phrase acting as the direct object of "threatens." The verbs "burst" and "split" are connected by "and," indicating two actions that "it" (the sky) threatens to do. The sentence ends with "the night" which is the object of the infinitives "burst" and "split," showing what the sky threatens to affect.  

The nouns sky, sea and night are expansive, all-encompassing. We know what they are and can even picture them in our mind’s eye. But they are also difficult to contemplate. The sea and the night sky extend beyond the horizon, beyond the limits of our vision. And the choice of verbs bruised (used as an adjective to modify the noun sea), threaten, burst and spilt are all violent. Two sentences. Fourteen words. There is immediate, almost epic feel of impending doom. Do you feel it? I can.  

Writers are often taught, don’t start with the weather. But this example proves that rules can be broken. The short punchy sentences also help characterize the main character who is a battered and bruised homeless man about to stumble over a dead body.  

Let’s take a quick look at Black Car Burning (2019) by Helen Mort, a poet and her debut novel.  

Today the sky is full of thunder. Great gobs of cloud above the Penistone Road. The girls don’t have an umbrella and they’re shrieking, laughing as the rain starts to strike.  

A brief description of weather can lend itself to beautiful and lyrical writing. These three sentences are wonderful – they set the scene but also tell us so much about the novel using weather as metaphor to the loss of innocence that is about to happen. 

In The Patient (2022), Jane Shemilt’s moody suspense thriller begins with a dark, rainy night to set the tone and create an atmosphere of menace: 

The footsteps were buried inside other sounds to start with. Rain pattering on leaves, branches sighing in the wind, a lorry in the distance on the Blandford Road. I thought I was hearing things again. Things that Nathan had told me weren’t really there. There were few street lights along this path. The floodlit Cathedral behind the trees cast shadows on the gravel. A woman had been murdered here at night a hundred years ago. On cloudy nights like this one, walking here felt dangerous… I was out of luck tonight. I began to hurry. The footsteps were louder now.  

As with all great openings, we get a lot of details in a few short sentences. She sets up the atmosphere: dark, rainy night and the sound of footsteps following—something every woman in the world has experienced at one time or another—and the immediate fear it invokes. Then we get the hint that she might not be reliable and the introduction of Nathan. Then we get the sentence about the murdered woman. So, we get a dead body—the body is not described for us—but we see it nonetheless. Murdered. She doesn’t say killed—which could be an accident—but murdered gives us the evil intent and links us to the sound of the ominous footsteps introduced in the very first sentence. Then she says, it felt dangerous. And we feel the danger, too. As the footsteps get louder, we sense the urgency, the immediacy of the situation. So far, the image in these sentences is very effective.   

Atmosphere is everything in psychological thrillers, and few things conjure menace more powerfully than the threat of something—or someone—lurking just out of sight. In just a few deftly crafted sentences, the author immerses us in a world of unease, where the sound of footsteps on a darkened path doesn’t just suggest danger—it demands we keep turning the page. 

The sky doesn’t have to be dark and stormy to create an atmosphere of menace. Take a look at what Laura McHugh does in What’s Done in Darkness (2021). This is the fifth book by Laura McHugh. She writes books inspired by true crime and often sets them in the Ozarks or rural Kansas. Her main characters are often poor and part of marginalized communities (religious or otherwise) but she does not veer into sentimentality or glamorization. Let’s take a look at the opening paragraph:  

Sarabeth – That day, age 17 

The blacktop road stretched empty in either direction. The sky hazy. The air heavy as a sodden sponge. The heat of the late morning sun amplified the autumn scent of drying cornstalks. The putrid sweetness of persimmons rotting in the ditch. Insects swarmed the fermenting fruit buzzing like an unholy plague. Sarabeth brushed away a sweat bee. She had walked the long twisting road from the house to roadside stand alone pulling a wagon with one bad wheel, her legs sweating beneath her ankle-length skirt. Her little sister, Sylvie, sometimes worked the stand with her but today she was home with a fever and vicious sore throat. Her mother had spent the morning praying over her.  

The book begins with the inciting event: 17-year-old, Sarabeth, is abducted while attending the family’s roadside vegetable stand alone on one hot autumn day.  

What do we see in the set up?  

We get a sense for the time of year—autumn with its smells, but still hot. The air is hazy and heavy. There is something already oppressive in this opening paragraph. The road stretching empty in either direction is a clear image and as we read on it adds to the characterization of this teenager who is alone and isolated in a rural community. Her family’s religion with a distinct undercurrent of something rotting is conveyed in this paragraph with the use of words like empty/alone/putrid sweetness/rotting/ unholy plague/ankle-length skirt/praying over her.  

Just from the opening, we know something is likely off or wonky like the “one bad wheel” of the wagon. Why is she in a long skirt on a hot day? Why is a 17-year-old not in school? Why is her sister, obviously sick and with fever, lying in bed and being prayed over instead of being taken to the doctor? The long twisting road she had to walk—we get the sense that her life is or soon will be a long twisting road. Just like the blacktop road, her life is empty in all directions.  

From this opening paragraph we know a lot. We know that Sarabeth is 17 years old, lives in a rural community, is isolated, not in school, and is likely oppressed (atmosphere of menace) and rotting away under a strict religious family. Again, we see the use of a crime or conflict in the beginning. The ordinariness of the day – a girl taking vegetables to sell at a roadside stand. It is the epitome of rural Americana which only adds to the internal dread and anxiety we feel.  

This is an excellent example of opening with atmosphere/weather that are brilliantly used to characterize themes of rural life in Arkansas, isolation, religious extremism, loss of innocence, women’s rights/inequality, which are all are part of this propulsive thriller.  

Next month, we will consider one of the biggest questions in psychological thrillers: the mind and behavior of the main character.  

Five Key Elements in a Psychological Thriller

By Carol Willis

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Psychological thrillers are driven by emotion and psychological tension, focusing on the minds and behaviors of their characters. They create an atmosphere of menace through plot twists, mind games, and unreliable narrators, keeping readers in suspense with a looming sense of dread. Unlike traditional mysteries, which unravel past crimes, psychological thrillers often establish the villain early, with protagonists struggling to prevent an impending threat. While they share elements with other suspense genres, psychological thrillers stand out for their deep exploration of fear and paranoia. Below are five key elements that define this gripping genre.

Atmosphere of Menace - often characterized by setting, weather, and time of day. Think secluded cabin in the woods, a spooky gothic mansion, ominous storms and in the dark of night. Usually something external that causes anxiety and uncertainty for the main character (and the reader). 

Tension and Danger - Psychological thrillers create tension by placing ordinary characters in inescapable danger, often in familiar settings like suburbs or homes. Unlike action-packed spy thrillers, these stories upend the ordinary, revealing that the greatest threats often come from those closest to us. The protagonist—often a vulnerable yet resourceful woman—must outwit a determined villain, who is frequently a spouse or family member. By rooting fear in the familiar, these thrillers immerse readers in psychological mind games, exploring themes of trust, paranoia, and hidden dangers while gradually unveiling characters’ backstories and mental struggles.

Mind Games and Psychological Manipulation - Characters experience paranoia, gaslighting, or memory manipulation. The villain often leads the protagonist in a high stakes cat and mouse game with escalating danger. The reader is made to feel as uncertain and anxious as the protagonist.

Suspense and Twists - Suspense is how an author builds tension throughout the story. It’s necessary in any genre, but it’s absolutely vital in thriller novels. Ultimately, your goal for the reader is that they never want to put the book down. Each chapter must end with a cliffhanger or significant plot twist or important question. While action does not need to be non-stop, suspense and intrigue need to be constant. There must be a sense of urgency to keep you turning the page. Emphasis is on the eerie over the sensational. Twists again are key, with chapters routinely ending in one disturbing revelation after another. Character is more important than pacing, but pacing can’t be neglected. This subgenre demands an ability to reveal dread and panic without explosions or car chases. 

Unreliable Narrator - An unreliable narrator heightens suspense by making the reader question who they can trust. Often, it’s revealed late in the story that the protagonist suffers from post-traumatic distress, mental illness, a head injury, or drug addiction, distorting their perception of reality. As noted above, lies, paranoia, and flawed memories are common in this genre, which is why many thrillers use a first-person POV. This perspective immerses the reader in the character’s experience, building sympathy while limiting their understanding to a single, potentially deceptive viewpoint—raising the crucial question: how reliable is their version of events?

Psychological thrillers focus on suspense, fear, and the uncertainty of a future crime rather than solving a past one. Unlike traditional mysteries, where the crime has already occurred, these stories often introduce the antagonist early, with the protagonist working to prevent their next move. Common elements include an atmosphere of menace, heightened tension, and psychological mind games. The genre thrives on upending the ordinary, often featuring domestic settings where danger lurks close to home. Suspense is crucial, with chapters ending in cliffhangers or shocking revelations to keep the reader engaged. An unreliable narrator, paranoia, and flawed memories add layers of intrigue, making the reader question what is real. Character development is central, with pacing maintaining a steady build-up of dread rather than relying on constant action.

In the next essay, we’ll take a deeper dive into these five key elements, exploring how they shape psychological thrillers with examples from some of the genre’s most gripping stories. Stay tuned for a closer look at what makes these thrillers so hauntingly unforgettable.

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Carol Willis (she/her) received her MFA in Writing (fiction) from Vermont College of Fine Arts. After receiving her medical doctorate from Texas A&M and an MBA in healthcare from George Washington University, she practiced child health and pathology before moving to Central Virginia. She is the author of a psychological thriller set in Chicago, a dark domestic drama exploring marriage, career, and identity. Her short stories have been published in multiple online journals and anthologies including Valparaiso Fiction Review, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, Living Crue Magazine, Crime in Old Dominion and others.

Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work

Stop Making Real Cops Cringe

By D.L. Williams

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I met my wife at a murder trial. She was a journalist covering the hearings of a man who’d blasted a guy and his girlfriend for stealing his favorite gun, and I was a detective who’d worked on the case. I wasn’t the lead in that investigation, but I’d found the bullets matching the caliber fired from the murder weapon, along with a picture of the suspect holding his treasured “street sweeper” shotgun in his best gangland tough-guy pose, while helping out on the search warrant. 

I remained composed during cross examination when I spotted her from the witness stand, but she was flipping gorgeous. It took concentration to testify about the laundry-piled, old shoe-smelling closet where I’d found the ammunition and photograph, all while thinking about those eyes and the cute way her hair was tucked behind her left ear. Police work can be so rough.

Hollywood makes it seem like detectives hang out after their testimony to watch the drama through the remainder of the trial, but reality is that caseloads generally demand we go back to work on that stack of other cases waiting on our desks. That day, however, I stuck around, hoping for a chance to meet the woman taking notes in the second row. She was the consummate professional, however, and would have little to do with a cop involved in a case she was covering. It worked out, though. Sometime later we had lunch…and grandkids. 

Recently we were watching a mystery on one of the streaming services. It was more cozy than thriller, not our usual fare, but we like the lead actress from previous series and decided to give it a try. The storyline follows a civilian employee working for a metropolitan police department who solves a murder case by scrutinizing a conspiracy board when all the cops had gone home for the night. Think of a brilliant but flawed Matt Damon staring at a wall of math while holding a push broom, the only one able to solve the equation in Good Will Hunting. 

The show was fine until the middle of the second act when the protagonist was chastised by her detective mentor for taking items out of an evidence locker without permission, ferrying them to her own home so she could have a closer look, and then allowing her precocious ten-year-old son to help her sift through said evidence to get his take on things. The only question for my wife and I at that point was who was closer to the remote. 

Last year I was asked to read an Advance Review Copy for a mystery/thriller author. The story involved a street-savvy investigator, yet the protagonist routinely performed in ways that made him appear naïve. One glaring instance had him realizing his gun had been stolen, and he presumed the murderer was now in possession of his one and only available weapon. Despite this, he continued on to confront this shadowy menace without backup or a weapon of any kind. We get it; he’s a tough guy who doesn’t need any help and moves faster than bullets. He’s also an idiot. 

That kind of decision is counter to any logical response, yet the character had been nothing but disciplined and well trained up to that point. He was not thinking like a cop anymore, and many regular readers of mystery or real-life criminal justice professionals would raise an eyebrow and move on to the next book in the To Be Read pile. 

Readers and viewers may suspend some disbelief over iffy police or investigative practices for a cozy mystery, less so for darker thrillers, and not at all for police procedurals. It’s perfectly fine to fudge a bit while creating red herrings and crafting unusual characters. What is not okay is to simply omit or obscure good procedure for lack of research or to spackle over a plot hole. Frankly, it comes off as lazy, unimaginative, or a bit desperate. 

Oftentimes this creates work that feels like a copy of a copy, as if the writer learned all they know about police work from other writers of mystery or from watching old cop shows—lots of “just the facts, ma’am,” and “ten-fours,” but very little in terms of well-researched practice. 

This would never fly in historical fiction. Readers of that genre demand well-researched details in novels and films, and they tend to be something of experts themselves when it comes to a specific historical period. Writers of mysteries and procedurals should rise to at least that level of expectation when it comes to their own projects. 

You don’t have to be a beat cop or detective to write good mysteries, but you owe it to the story, your readers, and your own reputation to better understand the culture and practices involved. Unconstitutional searches and seizures, derivative suspect interrogations, and clueless practices by experienced professionals scratch across prose like a record needle bouncing over vinyl tracks. 

Of course, that may be exactly what you had in mind if you’re developing a sinister or incompetent cop character. You may want to portray a detective as inept or corrupt, in which case folding an unconstitutional search or an abusive interrogation into the storyline may be just the direction you need to take. Even then, I encourage writers to cultivate an understanding of how cops think, the mindset of predators, and basic victimology. The result will be more nuanced and compelling character arcs.

I hear from writers across the country asking questions about specific passages in their stories, and I’m always honored to discuss ideas on how they can generate more authenticity into their works in progress. They often lament what they perceive as a lack of resources for learning more about police practices and culture. Many have a great premise but no clear direction on how to make the story ring true. 

There are many books on the subject of professional police work and best practices in criminal investigations. My suggestions for getting started include Criminology Goes to The Movies (Nicole Rafter and Michelle Brown), Walk the Blue Line (James Patterson), and Malicious Intent: A Writer’s Guide to How Murderer’s, Robbers, Rapists and Other Criminals Behave (Sean Mactire). 

Additionally, I encourage you to explore writing conferences offering speakers on topics related to the mystery genre. Time and finances for travel don’t need to hold you back. There are several online seminars devoted to teaching real police work for authors. Writers’ Police Academy, for example, offers an online version of their in-person conference. Better yet, go directly to the source. 

You may already know a cop or have access to one by a degree or two of separation. Set up coffee or lunch and pick that officer’s brain about scenes you’re crafting. Certainly, ask them questions pertaining to your plot, but I encourage you to take things a step further once you’ve developed some rapport. At that point you can try to open them up about their scariest day, a case they’re most proud of, or how they came to the profession. You’re likely to be amazed, and your notebook is going to be filled with new, adventurous ideas on where your story or series can go next. 

Consider riding along with a local police or sheriff’s department. Many agencies welcome members of the community to ride out with a patrol officer or deputy, allowing you to see, hear, smell, and sense real police work up close. The officers picked for such assignments tend to be more experienced, and most have demonstrated a willingness and ability to talk about their profession in vivid and frank terms.

Explore a citizen’s police academy if you want an even more immersive experience. This is a modified version of a real academy where you get hands-on experience with forensic techniques, clarity on constitutional concerns related to policing, a sampling of various services offered by the department, and some self-defense and firearms training. You’ll have a ball, make new friends, and add experts to your writing network.

I was an English Lit major, which means I wrote good police reports (extra points if I could work in a metaphor). It also means I will forever be in awe of great writing. I feel kinship with and reverence for storytellers and want each of us to rise beyond our own perceived abilities. The expectation I hold for myself is that I will treat our craft with the same discipline as a surgeon would for medicine or a dancer for music. That means we’re in a practice, where we acknowledge we will never learn enough, yet we can never stop trying to learn more. 

Writers shouldn’t prescribe paths for other writers. Voice is all about telling our stories in our own cadence and combinations. That said, I’m asking you to honor my former profession by learning about it, then honor yourself and your work by weaving what you’ve learned into extraordinary stories we celebrate and remember. Onward!

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David “D.L.” Williams is a public safety veteran with assignments including paramedicine, patrol in high-need areas, helicopter rescue, mental health liaison, and violent crime investigations as a detective. During his thirty-year career, Williams was twice named Officer of the Year by the Fraternal Order of Police, and he has been recognized by Rotary Club, the American Legion, and the National Coalition Against Sexual Violence for his work with families and children in crisis. He now teaches criminology at the University of Arkansas, and he is the bestselling author of Fighting for Her Life: What to do When Someone You Know is Being Abused and Textbooks, Not Targets: How to Prevent School Shootings in Your Community. He and his family have settled in the Ozark Mountains where they offer a haven for donkeys and horses who previously endured a rough life.

How to be Funny in a Murder Mystery

By Bill Gormley

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How funny should a murder mystery be? Must you choose between funny and scary? Is it possible to combine comedy and tragedy in one piece of work?

Many mystery writers opt for one over the other. By sanitizing violence and downplaying death, “cozy” writers achieve a light, frothy consistency high in humor, low in dread. By expunging light-hearted moments and heightening the drama as much as possible, “suspense” writers achieve a grim, scary consistency high in fear, low in fun. 

Though I enjoy many mysteries that tilt strongly one way or the other, I generally prefer a balanced approach – some fear and some humor, some tension and some relief. But how to go about it? Is there a right way and a wrong way to blend humor and suspense?  

For starters, let’s agree that it would be bad form for police to joke about someone’s death when informing a loved one. It would be equally bad form for a writer to interrupt someone’s expression of grief with a burp, a fart, or a double entendre. Some things just aren’t done and shouldn’t be done. As Johnny Carson liked to say, never joke about Abraham Lincoln.

On the other hand, a funny sequence after the grim work at the scene of the crime can be a welcome relief to investigators and readers alike. That’s where good writing and good timing pay off.

Consider Janet Evanovich’s irrepressible Grandma Mazur, whose zest for visiting funeral homes is legendary. In addition to hogging the best seat in the house and cramming her purse full of cookies, she’s notorious for opening closed caskets: “I just don’t like when they have a closed casket. I think it’s a gyp. How do you know if there’s anyone in there?” 

 We shake our heads and chuckle at Grandma Mazur’s antics because she is not testing the boundaries. For her, the boundaries simply don’t exist. We can overlook her sins because she doesn’t know they are sins. 

So, can we agree that funny scenes are worth doing when we can pull it off? If so, how do we do it?  How do we inject humor into a murder mystery without creating a jarring mix of moods? 

Here are five suggestions:

SUGGESTION # 1 – CREATE QUIRKY CHARACTERS. They enrich our daily lives. Why shouldn’t they enrich our stories? A barber who offers to remove a mole while trimming someone’s hair. A beautician whose chihuahua jumps on customers’ laps. A neighbor who plays more tricks on trick-or-treaters than they play on him. An auto repair man who can’t drive.

Thieves and grifters are especially good bets. According to the gospel of Elmore Leonard, your average criminal hatches schemes that are doomed to failure. That’s comic gold if you know what to do with it. Leonard devotes as much time to the bad guys as to the good guys and somehow manages to get inside their clueless heads. With empathy and humor, he portrays individuals who see themselves as pursuing the American dream, albeit without guardrails or constraints.

In Maximum Bob, for example, an ex-con, Dr. Tommy, hires another ex-con, Elvin, to assassinate the super-strict judge who sentenced him. His boyfriend Hector points out that Elvin is more of a bungler than a burglar. Why hire him? “Listen, he could be lucky and do it. You know why? He doesn’t see what could stop him.” Like Hector, Elvin’s nephew, Dale, is skeptical and asks his uncle if he’s really up to the job.

Elvin: You’re working with a pro here. I’ve done it. 

Dale: And you went to prison. 

Elvin: Hey, that’s something else entirely. We set this up right, it’ll work slick.

It’s fun knowing that Elvin is hurtling into the abyss with almost no chance of succeeding.

Criminals with scruples can also be amusing. In Hanging the Devil, Tim Maleeny introduces us to some savvy Russian thugs who join an alliance of misfits to steal paintings from a museum. Their front is a store that sells Russian nesting dolls, including an assortment of Mary Poppins characters. Mary herself is topless, but she’s discreetly wearing an apron. “We have standards,” Sergey explains. “This is a family business.” 

Notice the juxtaposition here. Grand theft and murder? All in a day’s work. Offending sensitive customers with a nude doll? Unthinkable.

SUGGESTION # 2 – CREATE WITTY CHARACTERS. A character with a sharp tongue or a dry wit is a gift that keeps on giving. The character can be likable or not, eccentric or not. The key is that the character can deliver zingers with the best of them. 

Take Ruth Zardo – one of Louise Penny’s characters in the tiny village of Three Pines, in Quebec. A crotchety, potty-mouthed poet, Ruth insults anyone and everyone, even friends, like painter Clara Morrow. 

After receiving a devastating review of her latest paintings – small miniatures described as “trite, derivative, and banal,” Clara needs some cheering up. But that’s not Ruth’s way: “The good thing is, nobody will see your crap. Who goes to an exhibition of miniatures? Why in the world would you agree to contribute to a group show of tiny oil paintings? It’s what bored society women in the 1700s painted.” 

A village of Ruth Zardos would be exasperating. But other residents of Three Pines, including Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, are so unfailingly nice that Ruth is paradoxically a welcome breath of foul air.

If Ruth Zardo has a rival for curmudgeon of the decade, it might be Jackson Lamb, the disheveled, ill-mannered, mean-spirited man who runs Slough House in Mick Herron’s Slow Horses series. The premise is that disgraced and incompetent MI5 agents who can’t be fired are assigned to a sort of “rubber room” where they are occasionally asked to perform difficult assignments that they are well beyond their means. 

When Lamb berates a member of his crew, he is blunt, vulgar, and cruel. He has a grudging respect for his chief deputy, Catherine Standish, but even she gets treated caustically, as in Dead Lions:

Lamb: You’ve got a theory, haven’t you?

Standish: Yes, I …

Lamb: I didn’t say I wanted to hear it.

Lamb is funniest when sparring with an equal, like “Lady Di” Taverner, Deputy Director-General of MI5. When Taverner complains about her boss, Lamb commiserates and offers to help: “I know some people. I could have her whacked.” He’s kidding, right? Yes. Probably.

Adrian McKinty’s Sean Duffy is kinder and gentler than Jackson Lamb, but just as funny. A detective sergeant in Ireland during The Troubles, Duffy wise-cracks his way through murder and mayhem. When a man is found dead in his car, with two ugly gunshot wounds, his right hand neatly severed at the wrist, Duffy’s boss, Chief Inspector Brennan, wants to know what Duffy makes of it.

Brennan: Well?

Duffy: It’s my belief, sir, that this was no ordinary car accident.

Brennan: Why is it that every eejit in the CID thinks they’re a bloody comedian?

Duffy: Probably to cover up some deep insecurity, sir.

As the plot thickens, we learn that Duffy is more than just a wisenheimer. He is clever, resourceful, and empathetic. As Anjili Babbar notes, Duffy is even ethical in his own way. But his quips make for a jolly ride into a world of chaos and horror.

SUGGESTION # 3 – DEVISE FUNNY SITUATIONS. Put your characters in an awkward situation and watch them squirm. 

In Notorious Nineteen, bail bondswoman Stephanie Plum and her pal Lula get a hot tip – a man who jumped bail has been spotted at a nude beach. On arriving at their destination, Stephanie and Lula confirm with the attendant that the scofflaw is there. There’s only one problem:  they have to take off their clothes to apprehend him. How embarrassing! Not surprisingly, Janet Evanovich, a master comedienne, makes the most of it.

A subtler approach might be to borrow from the fable where one of the mice must bell the cat but none is willing to put his tail on the line. Let’s say Character A wants to burgle an apartment but won’t do it himself for fear of getting caught. He commissions a reluctant Character B to do it. Character B, no chump, says yes but secretly arranges for Character C to do it, and so forth. What’s fun about this is that multiple refusals create multiple opportunities for something to go wrong.

If you handle it right, as Brad Parks does in Faces of the Gone, a dangerous situation can be funny. Carter Ross, investigative reporter for a Newark newspaper, secures an invite to meet with some gang members but is told that he must smoke weed with them to prove that he is not a cop. Blindfolded, he is taken to their hideaway where they produce some first-class weed, which Ross promptly smokes. Ross suspects that the gang members are drug dealers, but they indignantly deny this, showing him their warehouse, which contains boxes and boxes of … bootleg movies! Ross returns unharmed to his office, “as high as the Himalayas.” There, he unexpectedly runs into … his executive editor. An old-school gentleman, Harold Brodie is horrified that his star reporter has been smoking dope. Tempted to lie but not clear-headed enough to do so, Ross spits out a garbled version of what happened to his incredulous boss.

Brodie: So … you smoked marijuana with some sources to get them to trust you?

Ross: Well, actually, so they wouldn’t shoot me. But yes.

Brodie: That’s fantastic! Very well done, my boy. You did what you had to do to get the story.

What’s sweet about this sequence is that Ross faces a serious threat to his career, after having barely survived a threat to his life. We’re as surprised as Ross is when his boss decides that getting high was exactly the right thing to do. Ross has snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

SUGGESTION # 4 – CREATE A PARALLEL UNIVERSE. A great way to avoid an ill-fitting mix of moods as investigators try to solve a murder is to create a relatively serene parallel universe. In this parallel universe, your characters’ private lives are a source of merriment and amusement, a safe haven for the reader. 

Inspector Salvo Montalbano, who lives in a small coastal village in Sicily imagined by Andre Camilleri, has a rich private life that includes an on-again off-again romance with his girlfriend, Olivia, who lives in Genoa. The running gag is that when Olivia is eager to see Montalbano, he is not eager to see her, and vice versa. This makes for stormy, sometimes angry, but often funny telephone exchanges. 

Given Olivia’s sensitivity to slights, real and imagined, Montalbano is understandably concerned when his maid accidentally shrinks his sweater to a child’s size. The sweater was a special gift from Olivia. Uh-oh. Montalbano’s first impulse is to hide the diminished sweater in his armoire. But Olivia is nosy. His next thought is to bury it in the sand outside his home. But, with his luck, it will reappear at low tide. Desperate, he tears the troublesome garment apart with a knife and his bare hands until it is no longer recognizable. Is this progress? We won’t know for sure until Olivia’s next visit! 

When she is not busy solving crimes in Lafayette, Louisiana, Danielle Arceneaux’s Glory Broussard has a steady gig. Every Sunday, just after Mass at St. Agnes Catholic Church, she is a popular bookie, working out of a corner table at the local coffee shop. Like Grandma Mazur, Glory B fails to see why this is a problem. As she explains to her daughter, Delphine, this is a “fresh start” following her divorce.

Delphine: Mom, running a criminal enterprise is not exactly a fresh start.

Glory: This ain’t no criminal enterprise. I am a small-business owner. A risk-management consultant … I am an entrepreneur working in a collaborative workspace.

Glory’s conversations with Delphine are both funny and touching. The two Black women are poles apart in their personal habits, but their bond is deep and enduring. And they’ve learned to compromise. For example, Glory reluctantly agrees to Delphine’s suggestion that they visit a backwater voodoo priestess, in hope of identifying a murder: “Let’s go before Jesus strikes us down and swallows us up in this sinkhole trailer park, on account of placing another god before him.” The mother and daughter bend and stretch in ways that are amusing and touching to watch.

SUGGESTION # 5 – BRING ON THE ANIMALS! Pets and barnyard animals are cute and adorable, so why not invite them to join the cast? A watchdog who goes nuts over squirrels but ignores actual burglars. A goat who eats evidence. A K-9 officer who is better at detecting T-bone steaks than illegal drugs. Animals worked splendidly for Verdi in Aida and for Puccini in La Boheme. They can work for you too.

John Grisham knows the comic value of animals. In each of his Theo Boone Kid Detective mysteries, a retired judge, Sergio Yeck, presides over a pet dispute in a makeshift “Animal Court.” Theo, the 13-year-old son of two lawyers and a legal eagle himself, represents the defense – a dog, a rabbit, a parrot, or an otter, usually owned by a friend. The scenes are hilarious, and the judge is unfailingly Solomonic in his decisions. These chapters are the high points of every book. 

Which raises an interesting question: where to locate the Animal Court scene within the overall narrative? Usually, Grisham situates his Animal Court chapter at the midpoint or later. You don’t want to peak too soon.

I hope it’s clear from my examples that humor is not just about funny characters or funny situations. It’s about the right characters in the right situations.

When a woman who can’t swim falls from a boat into a lake during a late-night storm, that’s flat-out scary. But consider, as Carl Hiaasen did, an unscrupulous biologist who fears that his wife will blow the whistle on him. He invites her to join him on an ocean cruise and pushes her overboard, which sets the stage for a funny twist – the wife, a good swimmer, breaststrokes her way to safety and plots a sweet revenge against her murderous husband.  

A better swimmer in the storm and you lose your suspense. A poorer swimmer on the cruise and you lose your comedy. The trick is to have the right person in the right situation.

I should add that comedy and suspense can be compartmentalized to some degree. For example, Grandma Mazur’s corpses are seldom the victims of foul play. The pageantry of Janet Evanovich’s funeral homes and the pageantry of her murders operate on parallel tracks. The laugh track and the fear track are sequential, not simultaneous.

So, don’t lose sight of the big picture when you are writing your murder mystery. But have some fun along the way. If you do, your reward will be an occasional belly laugh from your readers. And what could be better than that?

What is A Thriller?

By Carol Willis

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After I took the plunge and quit my job as a pathologist to write full time, the first novel I ever completed for adults was a psychological thriller. It is a genre near and dear to my heart. I love reading them, and love writing them even more. What is a psychological thriller? And what makes them so compelling? 

Let’s dig in.

Thriller is a genre of literature defined by the primary mood of dread and suspense. They aim to make readers unsettled, nervous, and eager to read what happens next. All fiction should elicit some amount of stress in the reader in the form of tension and conflict, but in a thriller novel, the stress is the main feature. They often feel cinematic and involve high stakes and dramatic plot points. 

In short, if it “thrills,” it is a thriller. 

In the introduction to Thriller, a major anthology published in June 2006, James Patterson says:

Thrillers provide such a rich literary feast. There are all kinds. The legal thriller, political, spy, action-adventure, medical, military, police, romantic, historical, religious, high-tech. The list goes on and on, with new variations constantly being invented. In fact, this openness to expansion is one of the genre's most enduring characteristics. But what gives the variety of thrillers a common ground is the intensity of emotions they create, particularly those of apprehension and exhilaration, of excitement and breathlessness, all designed to generate that all-important thrill. 

In other words, if a thriller doesn't thrill, it's not doing its job.

Thriller is a hybrid of mystery and horror, sharing a literary lineage with the epic and myth. Monsters, terror, and peril prevail. They are dark suspenseful plot-driven stories. 

In his excellent 2019 article for Writer’s Digest entitled, “The Differences Between a Crime, Mystery, and Thriller Novel” David Corbett again emphasizes the emotion: Of the three major suspense genres, thrillers are typically the most emotional, focusing on the fear, doubt, and dread of the hero as she faces some form of what Dean Koontz has deemed “terrible trouble.” 

There are many elements to thrillers that overlap with other novels of mystery and suspense but typically with an exaggerated atmosphere of menace and sudden violence, such as crime and often murder. A devastating crime is about to be committed or has been committed with the threat of another one looming. The villain is known, but his guilt is not certain—or the hero cannot accept the truth of his guilt. Uncertainty and doubt enhance the suspense.

The tension usually arises when the main character(s) is placed in a dangerous situation, and we spend the rest of the novel waiting to see if they’ll escape. Themes typically emphasize the dangerous world we live in, the vulnerability of the average person, and the inherent threat of the unknown. 

Thrillers can take place in exotic settings—think geopolitical and many spy thrillers—but most take place in ordinary suburbs and cities. The main character, the hero, is usually tough and resourceful, but essentially an ordinary person who is pitted against a villain determined to destroy them, their country, or the stability of society. 

Suspense is how an author builds tension throughout the story. It’s necessary in any genre, but it’s absolutely vital in thrillers. Ultimately, your goal for the reader is that they never want to put the book down. Each chapter ends with a cliffhanger, urgent question, or significant plot twist. And the plot must have high stakes. The characters must have a lot on the line—it needs to really matter they succeed. 

In a thriller, the plot should be driven by one big, important question. Think Chris Whitaker’s All the Colors from the Dark. The story begins when Patch is abducted when he is a young boy and held captive in a darkened room along with another young girl, Grace. Patch eventually escapes but spends the rest of his life searching for Grace. It is a complex, multilayered mystery involving missing persons, child kidnapping, and a serial killer weaving several plots lines, each with their own twist, but it is Patch’s quest that becomes the central question that drives much of the suspense throughout the novel. Who was Grace and what happened to her? 

While action does not need to be non-stop, suspense and intrigue need to be constant. There must be a sense of urgency to keep you turning the page.

This basic story structure emphasizes the importance of reader expectations: There is a distinct hero and a villain. The attack on the hero is relentless with escalating terror and dread. The hero must be vulnerable—not just physically but psychologically. 

So, what is a psychological thriller and what makes them different from other types of thrillers? 

The biggest questions revolve around the minds and behavior of the main characters. Common elements in include plot twists, psychology, obsession, and mind games. They incorporate elements of mystery and include themes of crime, morality, mental illness, substance abuse, multiple realities, and unreliable narrators. 

A psychological thriller finds the terror in madness and paranoia. Here the threat is diabolical but more contained, even intimate—usually targeting the protagonist and/or his family—and the hero is often relatively ordinary. 

It is the upending of our prosaic circumstances that disconcert us the most. This is why many psychological thrillers are domestic dramas set in the home, threatening our most cherished relationships such as husband and wife, mother and daughter, or sister and sister. The protagonist (and the reader) come to think if we are not safe in our own home, we must not be safe anywhere.  

Psychological thrillers generally, but not always, stay away from elements of fantasy or science fiction, focusing on events that could take place in real life. However, with advances in medical science and robotics, and the rise of AI, this is changing. Near-future psychological thrillers involving clones or robots gone awry can be eerily convincing. 

In summary, like all good stories, it comes down to setting and character with a problem. The reader must care about what happens next. Psychological thrillers are highly emotional and revolve around the minds and behavior of the main characters. Common elements in include plot twists, mind games, and unreliable narrators to create an atmosphere of menace with looming threats. They are suspenseful and filled with fear and dread to keep readers turning the page. 

In the next series of essays, I will discuss five specific elements we see in a psychological thriller. 

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Carol Willis (she/her) received her MFA in Writing (fiction) from Vermont College of Fine Arts. After receiving her medical doctorate from Texas A&M and an MBA in healthcare from George Washington University, she practiced child health and pathology before moving to Central Virginia. She is the author of a psychological thriller set in Chicago, a dark domestic drama exploring marriage, career, and identity. Her short stories have been published in multiple online journals and anthologies including Valparaiso Fiction Review, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, Living Crue Magazine, Crime in Old Dominion and others. 

If They'd Mentioned This in The Beginning…

By Chris Berg and Paul James Smith

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Wayyyy back in the day and often around four or five in the morning, Paul and I would 69 our patrol cars and talk. Yak, prattle, blabber, and natter. . .gab, gossip, banter, and jabber. After all, it was the middle of the night, and if the city wasn't behaving badly, we had the time.

Often, we'd take up behind a Shell station on our beat, and drink thermoses of coffee and share our experiences during the shift, hopes of things to come and dreams yet unrealized, but usually well into development. 

Very often, we'd talk about writing. The little tidbits we'd authored for our friends or—more often—just for ourselves. We didn't know it then, but we were on our way.

If someone had told us that writing a book wasn't more than just tippy-tap-typing away in our favorite club chair, mid-shelf scotch on the armrest, and a cozy, flickering flame gently warming a walnut-paneled study, well, we wouldn't have believed it. Hell, we just assumed we had Wambaugh skills, or when we got really up in ourselves, Hemingway was in our sights. After more than a few years seriously devoted to this exercise, apparently 'learning the craft' turns out to be a real thing.

We've come a long way, since those days on Beat 1 and are more dedicated than ever to getting it right. Still...it would've been sobering to know the following:

Embarking on the path from learning the craft of writing to publishing with a traditional publisher is no simple feat. It's a winding road filled with twists and turns, but for most of us, the promise of seeing your work in print and sharing it with a wider audience makes the journey worth the effort.

Let's dive into the experience step by step:

Learning the Craft

Every author's adventure kicks off with taking a crack at mastering the art of storytelling. This phase is like the foundation of a grand building, essential and ever evolving.

• Reading Extensively: Most writers start by devouring books in their genre and beyond. It's like a crash course in different writing styles and narrative techniques.

• Formal Education: Some authors opt for formal education in creative writing, but it's not a must. MFA programs and writing workshops are just one way to sharpen those skills.

• Practice and Experimentation: Writers hone their craft through years of practice. That's right, years of practice. From short stories to novel drafts, it's all about flexing those creative muscles.

• Studying Writing Techniques: Many authors dive into books on writing craft, attend workshops, and join writing groups to level up their skills.

Writing the Manuscript

Once confidence blooms, or some version of that, authors often find themselves diving headfirst into crafting their manuscript. For most, it becomes a labor of love in the making.

• Drafting: Writing that first draft can be a marathon. Months or years may pass, depending on the complexity of the tale.

• Revising: Countless rounds of revisions follow the initial draft. Plot tweaks, character arcs, and prose polishing are all part of the process.

• Self-Editing: Before seeking outside help, authors need to fine-tune their work through self-editing.

• Taking a Break: Stepping away from the manuscript for a breather allows for fresh eyes during the editing phase. We've found this little step really helpful in many ways.

• Multiple Passes: Self-editing involves various rounds focusing on different aspects like plot, sentence structure, and proofreading. Some get caught in an endless loop, finding it difficult to ever find their manuscript worthy of the next steps. Just another hurdle to conquer.

Professional Editing 

Many authors choose to work with professional editors to further refine their manuscript. Not cheap, but in our view, absolutely necessary. And, for what it's worth, defining the editing steps below is not an absolute. Authors will find a wide range of definitions, but in the grand scheme, this is close.

• Developmental Editing: This focuses on the big-picture elements of the story, such as plot, character development, and pacing.

• Line Editing: This involves a detailed examination of the manuscript's language, focusing on style, clarity, and flow.

• Copyediting: This stage addresses grammar, spelling, punctuation, and consistency issues.

• Proofreading: The final stage of editing, which catches any remaining errors.

Querying Agents

With a polished manuscript in hand, authors venture into the world of querying literary agents, a nerve-wracking, usually lengthy, but necessary series of steps.

• Research: Finding agents who champion their genre is key. A well-crafted query letter showcasing the book and the author's prowess is essential. Sounds simple—it is not. Paul and I recall an agent, apparently giddy with himself, telling us, he likes to "see how many queries I can reject while waiting for the light to change." Luckily, in our experience, that's not routinely the case.

• Submission: Following agent guidelines, authors send out query letters (sounds simple—it is not) and requested materials, bracing for the waiting game.

• Waiting and Responding: Rejections may, no wait...will come, but authors can often use feedback to fine-tune their pitch and manuscript for the next round.

Acquiring an Agent

If an agent shows interest, the manuscript gets a closer look. If representation is offered, a new chapter in the author's journey begins.

• Negotiation: Terms are discussed, and agreements are signed, marking the start of a professional partnership.

• Manuscript Revisions: Further tweaks may be suggested to make the manuscript shine even brighter.

Submission to Publishers

The agent then takes the helm, submitting the manuscript to potential publishers, hoping to find the perfect match.

• Preparing Submission Package: Crafting a compelling pitch, synopsis, and author bio is crucial for catching the eye of publishers.

• Submission: The agent sends out the package to targeted editors, aiming for that coveted book deal.

• Auctions: In some cases, multiple publishers vying for the manuscript can lead to an auction, ensuring the best outcome for the author. Never been an author that wasn't praying for this situation!

Publishing Process

Once a publisher bites, the publishing journey truly begins, from contract negotiations to the book's grand release.

• Contract Negotiation: The nitty-gritty details of the publishing contract are ironed out by the agent.

• Editorial Process: Collaborating with the publisher's editors, the author refines the manuscript further. Yep, that's right. More edits.

• Production: From cover design to proofreading, the book undergoes various production stages.

• Marketing and Publicity: The publisher crafts marketing strategies, if you're lucky, with the author's input, to promote the book.

• Release: Finally, the book sees the light of day, typically a year or more after the contract signing. Did, someone mention this is a journey?

This is a marathon, not a sprint, demanding grit, patience, and a hunger for growth. While every author's tale is unique, these steps paint a broad picture of the traditional publishing process. So, here's to all the aspiring authors out there—may your journey be filled with words, wonder, and a touch of magic!

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Chris Berg and Paul James Smith began their careers as beat partners in California's Bay Area, quickly advancing to detective roles. Chris excelled in vice and intelligence, finding his niche as an undercover narcotics detective. He thrived in the world of hand-to-hand drug ‘buys,’ clandestine lab investigations, and the requisite counterfeit personas. Later, he became a narco field training officer and a court-certified expert witness in narcotics investigations.

Paul brings 31 years of law enforcement experience, serving as a field training officer, federal agent, Special Response Team member, sniper/instructor, National Tactical Team leader, and Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force program manager.

Lifelong friends and writing partners for nearly a decade, Chris and Paul craft thrillers inspired by true events. Their diverse backgrounds enrich both their writing and storytelling. They are Claymore Award winners and Pageturner Award finalists. Together, they write The Night Police novels and currently have three manuscripts in development: Blood Brothers, Twilight at Wolfie's, and Blood in the Water.

The Scene Of The Crime

By Shannon Hollinger

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Location. Location. Location.

It’s true for real estate, restaurants, and even books.

As a reader, I’ve lost track of the number of times that I’ve purchased a book based on the setting. Whether it was a place I’ve always wanted to visit, an area I was already familiar with, or a spot that promised a form of intrigue that I just couldn’t pass up, no other part of a book has the ability to create a picture quite as quickly and thoroughly as where it is set.

That’s because a location has the uncanny ability to transport the reader to a new world. It’s cheaper than a vacation, less crowded than the airport, and safer than traveling by car, but like anything you’re looking forward to, readers have certain expectations. Your setting is a promise you make to them, a pact that that small town will be brimming with secrets… that beach filled with romance… or that jungle saturated with suspense.

When writing, ask yourself—how much thought have you put into your setting? Do you craft scenes oozing with atmosphere? Are your locales drenched with details? Or is your setting simply the place where your fascinating characters bring your stellar plot to life?

I have to admit that while I occasionally focus on developing an atmospheric setting in my short fiction, in my novels, the settings tend to be the trunk on which my plot branches and my characters grow their leaves.

The idea for my Chief Maggie Riley series, set in the fictional town of Coyote Cove, was inspired by the real-life, no stoplight town where my husband and I spent our honeymoon years ago. 

That’s right. I spent my honeymoon plotting a murder. Fortunately for him, it wasn’t my husband’s.

But it wasn’t the thought of the impending ups and downs that marriage would bring once the honeymoon was over that had me thinking about death. There was something magical about that small town in Maine nestled in a mountain valley on the edge of a lake. A spot where moose outnumbered people three to one, the annual snowfall numbered in the triple digits, and everywhere you looked, you saw a postcard setting. 

It just seemed so… perfect. And I wasn’t buying it for a second. 

Call me cynical or jaded—or a mystery author—but the more we explored this seemingly flawless place, the more I became convinced that beneath the peace and the quiet and the enchanting beauty lurked something dark and sinister. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that this idyllic little burg would be the perfect breeding ground for crime. 

But would the setting be able to carry a series? To answer this question, I considered the location in terms of being its own character. 

It was wild. Unpredictable. Moody. Vulnerable. In short, yes, it would.

I decided that the remoteness, aided by the harsh environment, would be ideal for creating suspense as well as conditions that could be used to torture my heroine and further complicate her struggles. 

Sitting beside that lake—one that surely hid at least a few bodies—all those years ago, goosebumps peppering my flesh as I listened to the chilling cry of a loon, answered by the hungry howl of a predator, I knew the scene was prepped for murder. Coyote Cove was born. Some small towns hide big secrets. And some secrets are deadly.

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With degrees in Crime Scene Technology and Physical Anthropology, Florida author Shannon Hollinger hasn't just seen the dark side of humanity - she's been elbow-deep inside of it! She's the author of both adult and YA standalone psychological thrillers as well as the gritty Chief Maggie Riley series. Her short fiction has appeared in Suspense Magazine, Mystery Weekly, and The Saturday Evening Post, among a number of other magazines and anthologies. To find out more, check out www.shannonhollinger.com.