The Elements of Mystery Fiction: Writing the Modern Whodunit by William G. Tapply Page A
Authors: William G. Tapply
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Landcruiser. I expect we’ll have some fun.
The most dramatic question raised in this opening paragraph is whether the bluefish will be in. There is no hint of danger, no puzzle, no apparent conflict or tension. And yet Craig’s straightforward prose lures readers into his story. Readers can’t help liking this narrator and his down-to-earth attention to doughnuts and coffee and his car’s heater. They look forward to spending more time with him. They are hooked.
The promise of the narrative hook
The simple job of your story’s first sentence is to persuade your readers to read the second sentence, which will lead them to the third, and so on. But no matter how catchy, the beginning of your story will fail unless the promises it makes to your readers are fulfilled.
In every opening you make implicit promises to your readers that:
1. Events described in the first scene are relevant to the story that follows.
2. Characters who appear in the opening are significant players in the story.
3. The mood created in the beginning foreshadows events to come.
4. The narrative voice will sustain itself all the way to the end.
5. Conflicts hinted at early will be resolved as the story develops.
6. Themes established at the beginning will be expanded and explored through the story’s events and characters.
A flashy, attention-getting opening that fails to fulfill these promises can make readers feel deceived and cheated. Don’t promise what you cannot or do not intend to deliver.
Remember: It’s not any old hook. It’s a narrative hook. The job of the opening is to lure readers into your story. After that, the story must do its own work.
Begin at the beginning—not before
Commonly, inexperienced writers feel compelled to begin their stories with reams of background information. They feel they must share those character biographies they worked so hard to create, or they compose detailed summaries of the events that preceded the story itself. They write long descriptions of setting or some aimless dialogue that is intended to help readers “get to know” the characters.
The story itself may finally get underway in the second or third chapter. But readers may not be there to enjoy it. One of the surest ways to bore readers and cause them to stop reading is to tell them what they don’t have any reason to want to know.
You may need to warm up by writing your way to your story’s actual beginning. Fine. Do it. Just be sure to delete it once you find the place where your story really starts.
Stories should open at a significant moment. Begin with characters in meaningful situations . Readers do not need to know who the characters are, where they came from, what happened to them earlier, or what they want. Readers don’t yet care about your characters’ previous lives, and they don’t need an explanation of what’s going on. Not yet.
Never give readers information before they want it . If your opening scene introduces compelling characters in conflict, readers will read on to learn more about them. The promise of fuller understanding is a powerful hook.
Begin at the beginning. Never earlier.
Chapter 8
Structuring the Story:
Building Tension
You’ve done all your preliminary work. You’ve come up with an original idea; your characters live in your imagination; you’ve decided on a point of view; you’ve found a vivid setting; and you’ve sketched out key scenes.
Now it’s time to assemble these elements into a plot.
Planning and outlining
Some successful mystery writers are able to start writing a story with no more than an interesting character, a dramatic first scene, a snatch of witty dialogue, a compelling premise, or even just an opening line. They proceed on the faith that what they write will give them impetus to write more, and that the more they write, the more quickly the momentum will build.
It’s a process of discovery for them. Their characters say and do
The most dramatic question raised in this opening paragraph is whether the bluefish will be in. There is no hint of danger, no puzzle, no apparent conflict or tension. And yet Craig’s straightforward prose lures readers into his story. Readers can’t help liking this narrator and his down-to-earth attention to doughnuts and coffee and his car’s heater. They look forward to spending more time with him. They are hooked.
The promise of the narrative hook
The simple job of your story’s first sentence is to persuade your readers to read the second sentence, which will lead them to the third, and so on. But no matter how catchy, the beginning of your story will fail unless the promises it makes to your readers are fulfilled.
In every opening you make implicit promises to your readers that:
1. Events described in the first scene are relevant to the story that follows.
2. Characters who appear in the opening are significant players in the story.
3. The mood created in the beginning foreshadows events to come.
4. The narrative voice will sustain itself all the way to the end.
5. Conflicts hinted at early will be resolved as the story develops.
6. Themes established at the beginning will be expanded and explored through the story’s events and characters.
A flashy, attention-getting opening that fails to fulfill these promises can make readers feel deceived and cheated. Don’t promise what you cannot or do not intend to deliver.
Remember: It’s not any old hook. It’s a narrative hook. The job of the opening is to lure readers into your story. After that, the story must do its own work.
Begin at the beginning—not before
Commonly, inexperienced writers feel compelled to begin their stories with reams of background information. They feel they must share those character biographies they worked so hard to create, or they compose detailed summaries of the events that preceded the story itself. They write long descriptions of setting or some aimless dialogue that is intended to help readers “get to know” the characters.
The story itself may finally get underway in the second or third chapter. But readers may not be there to enjoy it. One of the surest ways to bore readers and cause them to stop reading is to tell them what they don’t have any reason to want to know.
You may need to warm up by writing your way to your story’s actual beginning. Fine. Do it. Just be sure to delete it once you find the place where your story really starts.
Stories should open at a significant moment. Begin with characters in meaningful situations . Readers do not need to know who the characters are, where they came from, what happened to them earlier, or what they want. Readers don’t yet care about your characters’ previous lives, and they don’t need an explanation of what’s going on. Not yet.
Never give readers information before they want it . If your opening scene introduces compelling characters in conflict, readers will read on to learn more about them. The promise of fuller understanding is a powerful hook.
Begin at the beginning. Never earlier.
Chapter 8
Structuring the Story:
Building Tension
You’ve done all your preliminary work. You’ve come up with an original idea; your characters live in your imagination; you’ve decided on a point of view; you’ve found a vivid setting; and you’ve sketched out key scenes.
Now it’s time to assemble these elements into a plot.
Planning and outlining
Some successful mystery writers are able to start writing a story with no more than an interesting character, a dramatic first scene, a snatch of witty dialogue, a compelling premise, or even just an opening line. They proceed on the faith that what they write will give them impetus to write more, and that the more they write, the more quickly the momentum will build.
It’s a process of discovery for them. Their characters say and do
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