Why I’ll Never Be a Mystery Writer
By Marisa de los Santos | September 5, 2019 |
If I could be anything, if I could have any occupation in the entire world, I’d be a mystery writer.
As a reader, I’ve been devouring detective fiction for over four decades. I started, as so many readers do, with Nancy Drew (her shift dresses! Her convertible!), and then quickly switched allegiances to the more effervescent and adorably human Trixie Belden (her brothers! Her curls!). In high school, it was Agatha Christie. In college and grad school, Sue Grafton’s alphabet series. Discovering Dorothy Sayers was like money falling from the sky (Gaudy Night is still a near-annual read), and now, in my fifties, I am in love with Tana French’s Dublin murder squad, Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brody books, and Louise Penny’s Gamache series. Do I get excited about other genres of fiction? Of course. But this summer, during my head-first plunges into the new Jackson Brody and then the new Gamache, I forgot to eat, which in my world is just this side of a miracle.
And then there is my utter devotion to Law and Order in all its incarnations and to Foyle’s War (when I imagine God, he looks exactly like Foyle), and my much mocked but unshakeable infatuation with Murder, She Wrote.
But I am ninety percent sure that I will never write a mystery, let alone a mystery series, and that little, leftover ten percent is almost certainly composed entirely of wishfulness.
It’s a shame, too, because there are aspects of writing detective fiction that I think I’d be good at. Building suspense, for instance. I could do that, creating sentences like live wires running through fog, sentences full of tension and sibilants and ominous hush. And bringing a detective to full-blown, complex life, with her obsessive nature and her dark past? I could do that, too, although given my sensibilities and track record, she’d more likely be fresh-faced and optimistic with a quick wit, a faith in fundamental human decency, and a happy childhood. Still, that could be interesting, right? A detective like that?
There is a large part of me that believes I was born to write those sentences, to create that detective. Detective fiction is my calling. The problem, of course, is plot.
Once, starry-eyed, I asked the author of an ingenious and intricate historical mystery series how she writes her books, and she said, “I start with the body, a dead body that was murdered in a cool way turning up in an interesting place, and then I work backward to figure out all the twists and turns and chess moves of how it got there.” I could tell by her voice, by the way her eyes gleamed, that she found this piecing together of plot not only fascinating but also fun. To me, however, it sounded not only impossible but also—boring.
Plotting is hard for me. Plotting is not my natural habitat. I don’t like it. I came to writing through a love of playing with language and then, while writing my first novel, realized that I loved, equally, characters: discovering them, spending time in their company, seeing the world through their eyes. I did not, as many fiction writers do, come to writing through a love of storytelling.
This is never more evident to me than when I am in the position that I am in now: putting together a book proposal. Putting together a book proposal is writing stripped of almost everything I like about writing. The questions you must address are things like: what happened, and then what happened, and then what did she do? And when I’m sitting at my desk trying to confront the question And then what happened?, I tend to respond with something like: I don’t know, but she dips Cheez-Its in mustard; she loves thunderstorms and small dogs, and the time she was most convinced she was going to die was during a sailboat trip with her husband on the Chesapeake Bay; she smooths her eyebrows when she’s nervous; she reads obituaries and collects aprons. But when they read a book proposal, editors want to know what is going to happen, and no amount of repeating, “Yes, but she eats Cheez-Its with mustard” is going to distract them. When it comes to book proposals, editors want plot.
And, honestly, I don’t blame them because I want it, too. I need it. Not just as a reader, but as a writer. I cannot just create characters and put them in a room and set them in motion. Before I begin a book, I need to know, not everything that happens, but at least maybe five things, five big plot points: A, B, C, D, E. (E is always especially hard.) Once I know that, I can do the parts I love: I can craft sentences full of fog and hush or ones that tap dance or keen or come down hard like a hammer; I can know my characters and listen to them and love them and be surprised by them.
I have a friend who used to ghostwrite Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books. The publisher would send him the chapter-by-chapter plot, the blueprint, and he would write the books. To me, this sounded wonderful. It wasn’t really, since he also had to write them in a very particular way, not his way. But the idea of someone handing me a plot still sounds wonderful. I want to be the opposite of those wildly successful and prolific thriller writers who come up with stories and then turn them over to someone else to write. I have dreams of co-writing a book with one of my author friends and saying, “Listen, how about you come up with the story?” I want a doppelganger who figures out points A, B, C, D, and E, while I hang out over here with Jackson Brody and Detective Benson. When it comes to this book proposal and every book proposal, I want to say: Wake me up when it’s over.
But I can’t. I can’t not just because most of these scenarios are improbable at best, but because, in the end, the story has to be mine. If I am to have any hope of bringing it to life, I need to be invested in it, all of it, points A, B, C, D, and even E.
So I do it. I’m doing it. Weary, grumpy, impatient maybe but here. Sitting at my desk and asking, again and again, What happens? And what happens next?
A New York Times bestselling author and award-winning poet with a PhD in literature and creative writing, Marisa de los Santos lives in Wilmington, Delaware, with her family.
I like your writing style! And I have to wonder how you came up with Cheez-Its with mustard. If/when you write that mystery novel, I’m sure it will turn out wonderfully and be fully worth the effort and boring bits it took to get there!
Thank you for this post.
Thank you! The Cheez-Its with mustard is a snacking preference of one of the characters in my forthcoming novel I’D GIVE ANYTHING. How she came up with it, well, I’m not sure. It’s just part of who she is! And thank you for the “when” in the “if/when”. A girl can dream!
Not all mystery writers are plotters. One I know, a writer of fiendish puzzle mysteries, dictates his novels into a recorder while driving. He has no idea where he’s going either on the highway or in his plot. No maps.
I too ghost wrote four novels about a certain longtime, revered girl detective with a roadster (in my day a Mustang). I built stores around her teenage friends, who got into trouble…not that I would know anything about that from personal experience, mind you. Oh wait, maybe I did write from personal experience?
Ahem.
A highly successful agent I know, one of the most senior and revered, built his formidable list by finding excellent writers in literary journals and suggesting to them that they write about crime.
My point is, you don’t have to be a plotter to write mysteries.
Thanks for your funny comment–and for giving me hope! I worry about the Mustang, though; somehow, I just don’t see ND tooling around in one of those. But I defer to the mystery series powers that be!
Some examples of novels that are novels first, and only secondarily about crime:
Ordinary Grace by William Kent Kruger
After I’m Gone by Laura Lippman
The Virgin of Small Plains by Nancy Picard
Natchez Burning trilogy by Greg Iles
Laura Lippman is terrific, but I haven’t read the others. I will! Thank you for the list. I do like my detective fiction to be character driven.
Hi, Marisa:
I detect in some of what you’re saying the literary writer’s preference for description over drama. I came to writing via acting, and learned how to write studying Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams, and Harold Pinter, all of whom taught me the power of scene over narrative. I have found that education invaluable.
At the Book Passage Mystery Writers’ Conference two weeks ago, of which I’m co-chair, I made a point to have the Belfast-born Steve Cavanagh join me for the plot intensive. Why Steve? Because he doesn’t plot. He moves scene to scene organically, pushing ahead via cause-and-effect, heightening stakes, and surprise twists. I wanted the students to hear from a prize-winning bestseller that the terror of plot is overblown, and largely self-manufactured.
I like Don’s book choices. I’d add:
Mystic River by Dennis Lehane
In the Woods by Tana French
The Sean Duffy novels of Adrian McKinty
The Jack Irish novels of Peter Temple
Anything by Denise Mina or John Harvey
I’d also recommend the audiobook version of Jo Nesbo’s Blood in the Snow. It’s read by Patti Smith, and she nails it.
You already know of Kate Atkinson’s work, so you must also be aware of her own resitance to strict plotting. She too loves to turn a phrase and creates fascinating characters and simply lets the story emerge from them. She’s hardly alone in that regard.
I must admit to being puzzled by this remark: “I cannot just create characters and put them in a room and set them in motion.” What suprises me is that you also seem fascinated by your characters. But what do they do beyond exhibit quirks (Cheez-Its with mustard) and “view the world”?
I’m writing a book on motivation that will be coming out in November. The key point of that book is to understand what Robert Olen Butler refers to as the character’s Yearning, without which (he opines) fiction can be clever, even smart, with lovely sentences and insightful metaphors, but not deeply moving.
Once I understand my character’s Yearning, as well as what’s keeping her from fulfilling it, I see that she is already in motion, if only unconsciously, and often in more than one direction–opposing directions, all too often. I just have to introduce something that disrupts her world, a little nudge, and she will act.
A dead body will do.
Oops, I see you’re already well aware of Tana French. If you like her, you’ll love Denise Mina as well for sure. Glasgow, in her case, not Dublin. Harvey’s Charlie Reznick novels take place in Nottingham, Peter Temple’s in Melbourne, Adrian McKinty’s in Belfast during the Troubles. I’m sure you’re seeing the pattern here.
I’ve written all of your recommendations down! Thank you for them.
To clarify, I don’t prefer description over plot. I quickly grow impatient with books in which characters talk and think but don’t act, and, as my love of detective fiction probably demonstrates, I prefer to read (and to write) books in which things happen. In this post, I was describing my own weakness as a writer, particularly my lack of a natural gift of figuring out the bare bones of a story before I actually begin to write. But what I’ve found is that I need at least the bare bones in order to begin; hence my comment about simply putting characters in a room and setting them in motion and waiting to see what happens. I need an outline, if only to have something to organically veer from, if necessary (and it’s usually necessary).
I suppose I am fascinated by my characters, both by what they do and by who they are. I’ve found that knowing small details about them (their quirks as you say) is essential to my knowing how they will act and respond to what happens to them. I believe small details–even ones that never show up in the book–partially, even largely, comprise personality.
My characters make decisions and do things. My stories have plots. I just find the early process of developing enough story to both pitch a book and to start writing it exhausting and hard.
I am not assuming that I know how all mystery writers write their books; I think I’m assuming–based on my experience–how I would have to write mine and am daunted by what that would entail.
Gotcha. I think the discipline of creating “an outline, if only to have something to organically veer from, if necessary (and it’s usually necessary)” is incredibly valuable, and you put it perfectly. Nothing is more terrifying than a blank page. And having some plan, even if you know it won’t get you where you intend to go, can help get words onto that page.
But I also think having to come up with the A,B,C.D and E to begin with, and thinking it through in some detail, actually helps not just in plotting but characterization. How will my characters get from A to B and so on — why will they, with whom, with what purpose in mind? How and when and why will it go wrong? It’s the preliminary thinking that’s part of writing.
You had me at Trixie Belden! And Murder She Wrote!! And Agatha Christie! I’ve been searching for Dorothy Parker books and can’t find any, believe it or not. I find lots of books about Dorothy Parker, but not the actual stories. Maybe I’ll check the used bookstore…
Anyway, I used to think I couldn’t handle the intricacies of mystery plotting. For the sake of time I won’t go into what changed my mind to try anyway, but I did learn of a book by Hallie Ephron called Writing and Selling Your Mystery Novel. At first I didn’t think it would be helpful because it seemed very basic, but when several published mystery writers I admire who used the book recommended it I went and bought it and it is awesome! It gives a framework to getting the mystery organized but isn’t heavy handed (like writing book proposals are, apparently!) Doing the pre-work to actually writing is a joy and the book feels more like a guide than a drudge.
I read Don’s comment above and I hope you give it a try. You do write awesome, tension filled sentences and, based on that fact and the fact you read Trixie Belden (no one I talk to knows of Trixie Belden!) I’d be first in line to buy your mystery novel!
It’s always lovely to meet a Trixie Belden soul sister (or brother). I will take a look at the book you recommend! Oh, and it’s Dorothy L. Sayers, not Dorothy Parker, although I’m sure Dorothy Parker would’ve been the author of extremely cool murder mysteries if only she’d thought of doing that! The Dorothy L. Sayers books are fantastic, and I especially love the ones featuring Harriet Vane.
Doh! Thanks for the correction. Maybe that’s why I can’t find any mystery books. Sheesh. (eyeroll emoji here.)
Fwiw, Gaudy Night is by Dorothy L. Sayers and it’s one of my favorite books.
Also, Christopher Foyle is made of awesome and that series is fabulous — the plots are twisty, the acting is excellent, and it uses nuances of history.
I have to agree with you on both points. I adore Foyle’s driver Sam especially–and the name of the actress–Honeysuckle Weeks–is one of my all-time favorites!
Lara, I still have all my Trixie Belden books. I could never decide if I was in love with Jim or Brian (sigh). All these years later, it’s still a love triangle.
I think I was Team Brian, but the struggle was real. :D
Marisa, love your books and I see so many ELEMENTS of mystery in them! Write a mystery! I heard that Lee Child doesn’t plot either. Points A, B, C, D … and E should get you there. Best wishes! Dana
You’re right, Lee doesn’t plot. But he wrote one of the best articles on suspense I have ever read — and with all due respect to Marisa, it does not concern “creating sentences like live wires running through fog, sentences full of tension and sibilants and ominous hush,” which sounds lovely, literate, and poetic, but not terribly suspenseful. Like Steve Cavanagh, whom I mentioned above, Lee builds his stories by posing a question, then embedding in its answer an even more difficult question.
You can find the article by Googling:
Lee Child+Suspense+Opinionator+New York Times
Thanks, David. I’m going there now. :)
Had to laugh as I went through your list of mystery reads. Same. Exactly. With one addition. I also enjoyed Martha Grimes’ Richard Jury pub series. Love murder mysteries but when I try my hand at writing them they’re a big fat failure, so I’ll stick to writing historical fiction.
Ah, I understand all too well your dilemma when it comes to plotting the mystery. I keep leaning toward that genre and then getting scared off because I can’t seem to get it quite right. I have hope I’ll figure it out eventually. If I live long enough.
Saving this post as much for the recommendations offered in the comments as for the inspiration. Thank you.
Marisa, when I read your post today and these lines: Foyle’s War (when I imagine God, he looks exactly like Foyle)–I just had to respond. I think it’s time I watch them all again.
As for mystery, my novel-in-progress-over-many-years has many elements of mystery, as a crime is committed at the heart of the work. Life is mystery, people are full of mystery. And all the above examples underline that you can and will do this–write a mystery.
I hear you, Marisa. I have a similar problem. I can create fascinating characters and intriguing situations, but when it comes time to raise the stakes and ratchet up the tension . . .
Sometimes it helps to ask, “What would Garrison Keillor do?” I was a big fan of his Prairie Home Companion back in its heyday, especially his letters from Lake Wobegone and spots for Be-Bop-a-Re-Bop Rhubarb Pie. The stories start out with the most ordinary situations: shoveling snow off the roof on a sunny winter day, running out to the grocery for a few things on Thanksgiving. Then they take the most improbable (yet plausible) turns: falling asleep in the sun and getting frozen to the roof (and breaking the flask of brandy in your pocket so you reek of booze); coming home from the grocery to discover that the turkey (which you forgot to thaw and so put in the oven frozen at 450 degrees) has started a kitchen fire. Complications build on one another organically. (As literature, the ads fall down because not all of life’s problems can be solved with a slice of rhubarb pie. If only . . .)
I naturally lean toward plot rather than character, and I’ve been inhaling Agatha Christie novels since I was six, but when I tried to write a mystery – ouf! It’s like trying to do a three-dimensional Sudoku. In the future. On rollerskates.
Which is to say, I don’t think mystery writing is easy for anyone (correct me if I’m wrong!). But then, good writing is always hard. But possible.
Yep, plotting is hard, whether you try to find those bare bones in advance or trust that you’ll unearth them as you go. I’m wrapping up my 10th mystery and I’ve done it both ways. Both ways are hard. Everything about writing is a challenge, to one degree or another. If it weren’t, why bother?
Reading the first few sentences of your post, I was thinking “That’s just like me!” with the additional favorites of John D. MacDonald, Nero Wolfe and Dorothy L. Sayers novels, plus Columbo and Perry Mason on TV. I, too, was a big fan of Murder She Wrote, and I also loved the Cat Who books by Lillian Jackson Braun, and Anne Perry’s Victorian mysteries as well.
When I first started to write, though, unlike yourself I thought it almost imperative that I write the kind of books I most liked to read. At the time, two of my favorite authors were Elizabeth George and Martha Grimes. (I attended a great writing workshop Elizabeth George gave at The Book Passage, in fact.) It never occurred to me that plotting could be boring, as long as there’s a murder to solve.
When it comes to plotting, I always remember a piece of advice Diana Gabaldon gave to writers at the Surrey Writers’ Conference. She started out writing comic books, she said, and from one frame to another, it’s always important that the readers find themselves asking, “And then? [what happened]” Although you start with a central mystery, every chapter, and almost every scene, has to have another little mystery that makes the reader want to turn the page.
I don’t outline the plot ahead of time, except for some very basic elements. Who died? Who did the dirty deed? (although that can be subject to change) Who will the other suspects be? and Which of my hero’s usual sidekicks will play major roles in the story? Then I start to write, letting the characters help create their own scenes (I use multiple POVs, but only one POV character per scene) and as the story begins to take shape I go back and forth, adding or subtracting details from previous scenes as I work, almost like a sculptor working in clay.
Now here I am, working on the 6th book in my series (not famous, but it gets more fans with each book), and excited about how it will take shape, scene by scene.
All I can say, is “Try it. You just might like it.” Best of luck.
Marisa, I’m a fan of every author you listed. But the plot doesn’t have to be the main thing. My favorite mysteries get their gasoline from mood — especially mood — and character machinations to drive you through the mystery. A lot of us mystery readers are more like the cosy mystery readers (and I’m not really a fan of cosies) than we’d like to admit. We tend to wallow in, in fact long for, the atmosphere of the community and characters a author has devised. Plot is secondary. I can never figure out the killer anyway! :)
Short stories tend to be light on plot and my favorite form for a detective/sleuth story. Especially I like longish short stories and novellas like “Hercule Poirot and the Greenshore Folly” which Christie later gave to Miss Marple as a short story and fleshed out to a full Poirot novel.
So as for authors who keep atmosphere and character front-matter:
Edmund Crispin! Man, oh man how I love his stuff. His amateur detective Gervase Fen, an Oxford professor of English Language and Literature, short stories are just beautiful, short four-pagers (mostly 4-pagers anyway). Timeless prose. And not so much on plot.
And what about Ngaio Marsh’s short fiction? “Morepork” is excellent, as well as, “Chapter and Verse: The Little Copplestone Mystery”.
Ruth Rendell! Yes, please. Hell yes, please.
And George Simenon. Perfect blend of plot and character/mood. Not too much, not too little. Again, especially the short stories, though the novels are very short, too.
I really enjoyed your post. The world is populous enough to find a niche and market to it. Sounds like what you write would be right up my alley.