Vicarious murder, I mean. Not sure how difficult the real kind is, and I really don't want to know.
For a mystery writer, though, murder becomes problematical. First, it has to be entertaining for the reader. Some writers go for gory detail, but that isn't my cup of poison, so I have to be creative. And when you've got a few books out, you start to realize that all the murders can't be the same kind. The victim can't always be shot or pushed down the stairs. Readers notice these things.
To make matters worse, a crime must have repercussions. If the police know a murder's been committed, there will be an investigation. If that happens, likely suspects will be examined for motive, means, and opportunity. Everyone who's ever seen Perry Mason re-runs knows it, so the writer must help his killer remain undetected, at least for 200 pages or so.
Does he make the murder seem accidental? Good idea, but how? When you actually try to set up a convenient accident, you'll find it isn't as simple as it might seem. What if someone sees the killer at the victim's house? How does he get the person to cooperate in his own demise? What about all those CSI people who'll be looking at every shred of evidence?
Does the killer try to blame someone else? Possible, but he (or she) will have to assure that the person hasn't got an alibi. He'll have to lead the police to his choice of suspect and away from himself.
And what about the method? Face-to-face methods are quick but require either sangfroid or the opposite (would that be sangchaud?) More removed methods call for careful planning. Many a murder mystery has been ruined for me because the killer could not have known he'd get the right victim and might just as easily killed someone else entirely (of course, that could be part of the plot...)
Right now I'm planning my next plot (or is that plotting my next plan?), and I want the victim to die of poison. Fine. Now which poison will provide what I want: a quick death that looks like suicide that can be administered by an unknowing third party by a manipulative killer several thousand miles away?
I don't ask for much, really. I just want an entertaining (vicarious) death.
Step into the minds of this group of talented, twisted, slightly psychotic crime novelists with a penchant for mystery, mayhem and murder. We write crime fiction or true crime that gets the heart pumping and the blood boiling.
Showing posts with label methods. Show all posts
Showing posts with label methods. Show all posts
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
The Hand of the Writer
We still speak of writing in the old way, although the process is different for most of us these days. Saying, "The keyboard is mightier than the sword" just isn't as poetic. Write refers to composing, arranging words in order, whether we use an old-fashioned, #2 pencil or the latest toy from the wonderful world of technology.
The hand of the writer, then, is metaphorical. It operates in the background, creating a world for readers to dive into and remain immersed in for a while.
Nothing makes me happier than when a fan says, "I lost all track of time," or "I couldn't put it down," in reference to my work. If I'm doing my job, I cast a mini-spell over a reader, and she's pulled into the world I create. She shouldn't want to leave, at least until I'm done with her.
There are times, however, when the hand of the writer is visible in a book, when a reader feels it pushing her in a direction or pulling the narrative down a path that doesn't feel natural. At that point the spell breaks, and the reader is aware she is being told a story. If the story is good enough, that might not matter a great deal, but if the writer's hand is seen pushing and pulling a second time or even a third, the reader begins to feel that things aren't quite right.
Sometimes it's a plot device that isn't natural. It might be a character who acts in ways contrary to what we know of him. It could be a detour from the storyline so the author can tell us what she knows about popcorn production or slavery in ancient Sumeria. Anything that niggles at the reader's bubble of concentration can pop it, and she looks around and thinks, "Wait. All this isn't real. I can see the writer's hand between the lines."
At that point, she might put the book down and go make supper. Good for her family, maybe. Not so good for the author who allowed that hand--or keyboard, or whatever--to peep through the magic.
The hand of the writer, then, is metaphorical. It operates in the background, creating a world for readers to dive into and remain immersed in for a while.
Nothing makes me happier than when a fan says, "I lost all track of time," or "I couldn't put it down," in reference to my work. If I'm doing my job, I cast a mini-spell over a reader, and she's pulled into the world I create. She shouldn't want to leave, at least until I'm done with her.
There are times, however, when the hand of the writer is visible in a book, when a reader feels it pushing her in a direction or pulling the narrative down a path that doesn't feel natural. At that point the spell breaks, and the reader is aware she is being told a story. If the story is good enough, that might not matter a great deal, but if the writer's hand is seen pushing and pulling a second time or even a third, the reader begins to feel that things aren't quite right.
Sometimes it's a plot device that isn't natural. It might be a character who acts in ways contrary to what we know of him. It could be a detour from the storyline so the author can tell us what she knows about popcorn production or slavery in ancient Sumeria. Anything that niggles at the reader's bubble of concentration can pop it, and she looks around and thinks, "Wait. All this isn't real. I can see the writer's hand between the lines."
At that point, she might put the book down and go make supper. Good for her family, maybe. Not so good for the author who allowed that hand--or keyboard, or whatever--to peep through the magic.
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