Writing a Killer Thriller

by Jodie Renner

  Bickham concludes, “Please note, however, that none of this can happen – nothing can work – if the scene does not grab your readers and intensely involve them. To accomplish that, the scene must be lifelike.”

  So don’t tell us what happened – show the action in real time, with plenty of tension, revealing throughout the scene the viewpoint character’s goals, emotions, reactions, and sensory perceptions.

  Writing high-tension scenes

  Your plot should include a few especially tense scenes, probably one in the middle, and the biggest one for the climax, where the tension, conflict, suspense and action are at an extreme level.

  To design these pivotal scenes or “set pieces,” as they call them in screenwriting, you’ll need to brainstorm for the worst thing that can happen to your protagonist at that time. Make a list and pick the scariest possibility.

  Once you’ve decided what will happen in that scene, maximize the tension by building up to it and hinting at it beforehand, to raise the apprehension of the readers. Set up the danger ahead of time for the readers, by making it something the protagonist or someone close to them is worried might happen, or a glimpse we see into the villain’s plans, etc.

  And once you’re in the scene, be sure to show us how your character is feeling. Make the readers aware of their doubts, anxieties, fears, and determination. Show their decision-making process, so we’re right there with them, trying to figure a way out of the dilemma or how to stop the destructive plans of the bad guy. And give us the details of how they’re feeling physically as well. Perhaps they’re injured and in pain. Or showing physical signs of terror or panicking.

  Resources:

  James Scott Bell, Revision and Self-Editing

  Jack M. Bickham, The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (And How to Avoid Them)

  Hallie Ephron, The Everything Guide to Writing Your First Novel

  Jessica Page Morrell, Between the Lines

  Back to TOC

  Part V

  BRING YOUR CHARACTERS TO LIFE ON THE PAGE

  Chapter 11

  POWERFUL POINT OF VIEW

  USE DEEP POINT OF VIEW

  To suck your readers into your story world and keep them turning the pages, write your story in deep point of view, or close third person (or first person). Get us up close and personal with your protagonist and show us her inner reactions, fears, hopes, dreams, and regrets, as well as how she’s feeling physically at moments of stress.

  When we experience the story through her eyes and other senses, reacting as she does to her problems, it sucks us into her psyche and her situation. It’s like we almost become her, and we’re compelled to keep reading, hoping everything will turn out right.

  When we stick mainly with our protagonist, in his head and heart, with a bare minimum or no stepping back to describe things from the author’s stance (omniscient POV), we’re using deep point of view, or close third, which is a lot like first-person point of view, with the added freedom of switching to the villain’s or some other character’s POV when it suits our purpose. Deep POV is a powerful way of drawing readers into your story quickly and making them worry about your hero right away, and keep worrying – which is exactly what you want!

  But how do you go about this? Let’s suppose you’re writing a story about a macho, hero-type guy named Kurt, who defeats the villain, restores justice, and even gets the girl. It’s Kurt’s story so he’s your main viewpoint character. How do you make sure your handling of his viewpoint is as powerful as it can possibly be?

  The first thing you need to do is imagine the setting, people, and events not as you see them, but as they would be perceived by Kurt, and only by him. As you write the chapters where Kurt is the POV character (which should be at least 70% of the whole book), you the writer must become Kurt. You see what he sees, and nothing more. You know what he knows, and nothing more. When Kurt walks into a bar, for example, you do not imagine how the bar looks from some god-like authorial stance high above, or as a movie camera might see it; you see it only as Kurt sees it, walking in purposefully and looking around.

  And of course include his reactions to the other people in the bar. Show Kurt’s feelings (and only his) about what and who he’s seeing, and his reactions to the situation. Instead of saying, “The bar was noisy, dark and smoky,” say “The cigarette smoke in the air stung Kurt’s eyes and, in the dim light, he couldn’t make out if his target was there. As he looked around, the room started to quiet down. Heads turned, and eyes took him in, some curious, some hostile.” This way, the reader is seeing the scene through Kurt’s head and identifying with him, starting to worry about him. This from-the-inside-out approach is vital if you want your reader to care about your protagonist and get truly engaged in your story.

  But you need to go even further – you need to describe what he’s seeing and feeling, his internal reactions to what’s around him, by using only words and expressions that he would use. If your character is a rancher or a drifter or a hard-boiled P.I, or a young child, you’re not going to describe the scene or his reactions in highly educated, articulate, flowery terms, or tell about things he probably wouldn’t notice, like the color-coordination of the décor, the chandeliers, or the arrangement of dried flowers in an urn on the floor.

  It’s also important to be vigilant that your viewpoint doesn’t slip, and you’re suddenly giving someone else’s opinion about Kurt, or telling about something that’s happening out in the street or even in a hidden corner of the bar, while Kurt is still at the entrance of the bar. Let the reader know other people’s reactions to Kurt, not by going into those characters’ heads at this point, but by what Kurt perceives—he sees their disapproving, admiring, angry, curious, or intense looks, picks up on their body language, hears their words and tone of voice, sees them get up and stride toward him or head out the back way or whatever.

  Then, in a later scene or chapter, you can go into the bad guy’s point of view and find out what he thinks of Kurt. Or, once he meets the girl, write a scene or chapter in her viewpoint so the reader finds out more about her and what she thinks of our hero Kurt.

  This technique, properly used, will suck your readers effectively into your story world, where they really want to be, engaged, involved, and connected.

  USE MULTIPLE VIEWPOINTS

  Consider occasionally inserting a scene or chapter in the villain’s point of view, for added depth, tension, and suspense.

  Or, in a romantic suspense, like Sandra Brown, Nora Roberts, and many other talented authors write, where you’re mainly in the viewpoint of your female lead, insert some scenes in the POV of her love interest, partner, or adversary with chemistry developing.

  If you really like first person for your protagonist but also want to get into the head of the antagonist from time to time, be sure to use third person for the villain. Having his sections also in first person (“I”) would be just too confusing! And irritating, as at the start of the chapter, readers would assume “I” is the hero or heroine, and would then have to readjust their thinking.

  Back to TOC

  Chapter 12

  SHOW, DON’T TELL

  “Show, don’t tell” is the most common mantra among advisors to fiction writers. It’s about bringing the scene alive and putting the reader right there, inside your character, experiencing her fear along with her, feeling the sweat on his brow and his adrenaline racing, our pulse quickening right along with theirs, muscles tensed, ready to leap into action.

  A common mistake among aspiring fiction writers is to describe or narrate (tell) events as if they took place at some point in the past, instead of putting the reader right in the middle of the action and showing the events as they occur, in real time, along with the characters’ reactions, feelings, and actual words (direct dialogue).

  To clarify what is meant by “show, don’t tell,” think of it this way: Which would you rather do, go see a great movie in a theatre with a big screen and surround sound (“s
how”), maybe even in 3D, or hear about the movie from someone else afterward (“tell”)? That’s the difference we’re talking about here.

  According to Ingermanson and Economy, “Showing means presenting the story to the reader using sensory information. The reader wants to see the story, hear it, smell it, feel it, and taste it, all the while experiencing the thoughts and feelings of a living, breathing character. Telling means summarizing the story for the reader in a way that skips past the sensory information and goes straight to the facts.”

  Janet Evanovich considers “show, don’t tell” to be one of the most important principles of fiction: “Instead of stating a situation flat out, you want to let the reader discover what you’re trying to say by watching a character in action and by listening to his dialogue. Showing brings your characters to life.”

  Showing also makes your readers feel more involved, like an active partner in the process. As Jack Bickham says, “Not only does moment-by-moment development make the scene seem most lifelike, it’s in a scene [with dialogue and action and reaction] where your reader gets most of his excitement. If you summarize, your reader will feel cheated – short-changed of what he reads for – without quite knowing why.”

  Lisa Jackson, in Something Wicked, could have told us:

  Savannah woke up to find herself tied up on top of a kitchen island.

  Instead, she showed us the scene with vivid detail, including Savannah’s thoughts and physical sensations:

  Savannah’s first conscious thought was that she was lying on a cold slab. Every muscle ached, and she was freezing. She slowly came awake to realize she was lying naked atop a granite kitchen island. Bluish moonlight left a hard rectangle across her feet, the only illumination in an otherwise dark room.

  She tried to lift her hand, but it was tied down. Both hands were. And her legs.

  “Been waiting for you...,” a voice said silkily from across the room.

  Harlan Coben, in his gripping thriller, Tell No One, could have said,

  “I was scared.”

  Instead, he said,

  “Fear wrapped itself around my chest like steel bands.”

  Of course, you can’t show everything, or your book would be way too long and would tire your readers out – or worse, end up boring them. Reserve the showing for important scenes. Basically, the more intense the moment, the more showing you should do. You don’t want to describe every move your characters make at down times, or when going from one place to the other. That’s where you summarize or “tell,” to get them to the next important scene quickly, without a lot of boring detail.

  The main thing to keep in mind is to never to tell the reader, after the fact (or have a character telling another character), about a critical scene. Instead, dramatize it in the here and now, with dialogue, action, and lots of sensory details to bring it to life for the reader.

  Use sensory imagery – evoke all five senses.

  Don’t just show us what the character is seeing – we need to know what she is hearing, smelling, touching, tasting, and also tactile sensations on her skin, like sweating or cold, clammy skin. Also show us what’s going on inside her body, like heart palpating, difficulty breathing, tight chest, roiling stomach, nausea, etc.

  Show your character’s thoughts, feelings, and reactions:

  Bring your character to life and make the readers bond with him and worry about him by showing his inner thoughts and reactions.

  Here’s a before-and-after example, disguised from my editing:

  Before:

  “What do you mean them? Who else are you talking about?”

  “The others who’ve been killed,” Tim said. “That’s who.”

  “Killed? What are you talking about?”

  “Just what I said,” Tim replied. “Killed. Friggin murdered, man. At least three of them in the past month.”

  “I don’t understand,” Keith said as he looked around at the room.

  Jodie’s comments to the author: This is kind of bland. I would think he’d be very confused and worried – freaked out. Show his reaction and feelings here.

  After:

  “What do you mean them? Who else are you talking about?”

  “The others who’ve been killed,” Tim said. “That’s who.”

  “Killed? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Just what I said,” Tim replied. “Killed. Friggin murdered, man. At least three of them in the past month.”

  Keith’s eyes widened as the words reverberated in his mind. Killed? Murdered? Is this guy serious? “I don’t understand.” He got up, ran his hands through his hair, and started pacing around the room. What the hell is going on?

  Show your character’s immediate internal reactions.

  An effective trick is to show how your character is reacting by a quick, internal direct thought, usually expressed in italics, like What? No way!

  In Dirty Blonde, Lisa Scottoline’s protagonist, Cate, reacts internally and immediately a lot, which is very effective in showing us how she’s feeling about what’s happening. I like the way Scottoline sprinkles in brief internal reactions in italics, at the beginnings of paragraphs, like: Oh, God. Or Argh. Or Jerk. Or Great. Or Rats. I mean thanks.

  In Mystic River, Dennis Lehane shows us the POV character Jimmy’s regrets and self-loathing:

  Setup: He’s just gotten off the phone telling his wife their daughter Katie’s car has been found and police are searching the park for her, and it doesn’t look good. His wife, Annabeth, is almost hysterical and incredulous, asking him why the hell he’s standing out on the street, idle, instead of in the park searching for his daughter.

  “Get in there, Jimmy. I mean, God, what’s wrong with you?”

  She hung up.

  Jimmy handed the phone back to Chuck, knowing that Annabeth was right. She was so completely right that it killed Jimmy to realize that he would regret his impotence of the last forty-five minutes for the rest of his life, never be able to think about it without cringing, trying to crawl away from it in his head. When had he become this thing—this man who’d say yes, sir, no, sir, right you are, sir, to fucking cops when his firstborn daughter was missing? When had that happened? When had he stood at a counter and handed his dick over in exchange for feeling like, what, an upright citizen?

  You can’t help feeling Jimmy’s pain, remorse and self-loathing here. Without these inner thoughts and feelings, this scene would lack so much depth. Not only that, this really adds to Jimmy’s characterization and our sympathy for him, and helps us bond with him more, as we feel his pain and guilt.

  Back to TOC

  PART VI

  SUSTAIN THE SUSPENSE

  Chapter 13

  BUILD IN TENSION & INTRIGUE

  Build suspense and apprehension from your very first paragraph.

  All genres of fiction, not just thrillers and action-adventures, need tension, suspense, and intrigue to keep the reader invested in finishing your story. And of course, you’ll need to ratchet up the uneasiness and anticipation a lot more if you’re writing a fast-paced, nail-biting page-turner.

  New York literary agent Noah Lukeman, author of The Plot Thickens and other great craft books, says that if a writer can maintain suspense throughout the story, many readers will keep reading even if the characters are undeveloped and the plot is weak. So learning to write suspenseful fiction is definitely a ticket to increased sales.

  Suspenseful writing makes the readers feel curious, concerned, anxious. They start to worry about what’s going to happen to the protagonist, and this unease and concern keeps them turning the pages.

  What is suspense, anyway? Alfred Hitchcock, a master at suspense, was once asked to define the term. He told the interviewer to imagine two people sitting at a table at a café. Under the table is a bag. In the bag is a bomb. The characters don’t know that the bomb is there, but the viewers do. That, he said, is suspense.

  And as Steven James explained in his excellent workshop
at Thrillerfest 2011, “Suspense needs apprehension. Apprehension is suspense. And impending danger creates apprehension.” James points out that suspense is about first making a promise (setting reader expectations that your characters and story are going to intrigue them) and then providing a payoff. “The bigger the promise, the bigger the payoff,” says James. “Give the reader what he wants or something better.”

  Ian Irvine tells us that holding back critical information creates suspense: “Suspense comes from readers’ anticipation of what’s going to come next. Therefore, never tell your readers anything in advance when, by withholding it, you can increase suspense.”

  How do we write suspenseful, page-turning scenes?

  Create a complex character that readers will worry about, then write an opening that grabs the reader’s curiosity right away, with an intriguing story question, a worrisome undercurrent, and an inciting incident.

  Then follow this up for most of the story with hints of even worse trouble to come. Add in some foreshadowing here and there, in small doses, to keep the readers off-balance, wondering and worrying. Delay revealing critical information, either about the protagonist or the antagonist, and build slowly.

  Drop little hints as you go along of deep hidden secrets in the protagonist’s past that could trip him up, or new developments in the villain’s plans, or other perils to come. Resist the urge to reveal too much too soon. These hints and delays are what create suspense. As Jessica Morrell says, “Suspense builds and satisfies when the reader desperately wants something to happen and it isn’t happening.”

  Suspense is about exploiting the readers’ insecurities and basic fears of the unknown, their inner need to vicariously vanquish foes, thwart evil, and win over adversity. For heightened suspense, use deep point of view, so the readers are right there in your protagonist’s head, privy to her fears and insecurities, struggling with her against her adversaries and other dire threats.