Writing mystery novels is a strange profession or pastime, beset by two related paradoxes that determine the success or failure of a book. It is important for the novice writer to keep in mind that he or she is not merely constructing a story for personal pleasure, but is always writing with a reader in mind — a fickle and demanding reader. Knowing these paradoxes and how to negotiate them is an important part of learning the craft.
The Whodunit Paradox
Whether you are writing a true whodunit or have a mystery built into some other genre, you can be sure that it will appeal to your reader. The reader will be desperate to second-guess you, because trying to establish what the writer is subtly hiding is the name of the reading game. The paradox is that the moment they do guess the truth, they despise you. The novel is a guessing game, a battle of wits that you, the author, must win. The reader who guesses the secret early will probably read on to the end of the book, especially if the discovery is made late, but the thrill is gone, the chase is over.
Concealing Clues in Mystery Stories
The most common technique for writers to keep readers from the truth is the old magician’s trick of misdirection. When the magician urges you to watch the handkerchief closely as he brandishes it aloft or demonstrates that he has nothing up his sleeve, it is the time he is most likely performing the essential switch of the trick with his other hand.
The writer can do this by making another character seem guilty by planting false clues (red herrings) as simple as having (the innocent) Joe look down and shuffle his feet when the detective mentions the murdered girl’s name.
The Writing Tricks Paradox
The corollary to the above is that the reader expects the author to use tricks, be clever to the point of deviousness in masking the identity of the real villain. Nevertheless, there are rules – a code of ethics, if you will. The clues must always be available for the reader to identify (too late) the real culprit or the game isn’t fair. Misdirection is again appropriate as real clues are best dropped into scenes where high tension and conflict distract the reader or else triviality bores them. The reader will respect the writer when he or she can sit back and say: "Aah, so that’s why the feather was missing from Frank’s hatband on the Tuesday but back again the following Thursday!” Implausible is OK, impossible is not. The reader will not respect the writer if the villain, a famous sprinter, manages to pull off the murder by running the 15 miles between his home and the victim’s house in 15 minutes. Nor is it acceptable for the little girl next door to be the killer – the one who got a three-line mention in the first chapter and was never mentioned again.
The astute writer must tread a narrow line between fooling the reader with well-concealed clues that become obvious after the denouement, and making a fool of the reader by devising improbable and unflagged solutions. Fooling the reader is a worthy goal and one that readers love; making a fool of the reader is bad writing form and will not win fans.
