GAR ANTHONY HAYWOOD

You Can’t Cheat an Honest Reader

GAR ANTHONY HAYWOOD is the Shamus- and Anthony-winning author of twelve crime novels and numerous short stories. He has written six mysteries featuring African-American private investigator Aaron Gunner; two starring Joe and Dottie Loudermilk, retiree crime-solvers and Airstream-owning parents to five grown “children from hell”; and four stand-alone thrillers. Gar has written for The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times, and for such television shows as New York Undercover and The District. His most recent novel is the thriller Assume Nothing (Severn House, 2011).

 

 

I hate cheaters. Not because they never prosper, as the old saying goes, because we all know some cheaters actually do quite nicely for themselves. No, I hate cheaters because they’re lazy. They sidestep the rules the rest of us abide by as a shortcut to what they want; they lie to your face and expect you not to notice.

Cheaters who write mysteries may not be the worst offenders of the lot, but they’re close, and discerning readers often treat them with the same level of disdain card sharks were shown at Old West poker tables. Because a mystery author who cheats breaks the unwritten contract between writer and reader that demands he always play fair, that he not stretch the boundaries of what is probable, let alone possible, simply to make Tab A fit into Slot B.

Keeping readers guessing what’s real and what isn’t is, of course, what a successful mystery novel does best, but this is true only if its author has given such things as logistics and credibility their proper due. The key to leaving a reader marveling at your skillful sleight of hand, rather than your inattention to detail or, worse, your bald-faced dishonesty, is anticipating every question your reader might have about your plot, and then making sure each of these questions has been answered in a straightforward and reasonable manner.

The alternative to doing such grunt work—and it is grunt work—is cheating, as in committing the following crimes against nature:

Contradiction. Establishing a fact or pattern of behavior at one point in your book, then doing a one-eighty on yourself just to satisfy a need of your plot. Example: Having a character referred to throughout your novel as “Johnny,” only to have someone at some point call him “John,” for no reason other than to make him look more innocent or guilty than he really is.

Neglecting to answer obvious questions. “What kind of obvious questions?” you ask. Here are just a few examples:

Why would she do that?

Where did that come from?

Shouldn’t he have done A instead of B?

Part of your job as a mystery author is to outthink your reader, and that involves anticipating all the questions he or she could possibly come up with about the story you’re trying to sell. Refusing to explain something that demands explanation is inexcusable. Here’s a rule of thumb: The more improbable a scenario, the more obligated you are to offer your reader detailed reasons to believe it.

Defying logic. Pigs can’t fly, dogs don’t talk, and an assistant prosecuting attorney can’t hot-wire a late-model car with a chopstick no matter how badly you need her to drive off in it. If you’ve created a problem for your protagonist that neither of you can solve in a believable fashion, scrap the problem and replace it with something more manageable. Don’t just fake your way out of it and hope your reader won’t notice, because he or she will. Trust me.

Dropping red herrings out of the sky. This is the act of making something or someone appear out of nowhere (and then disappear again) without adequate explanation. Like contradiction, this cheat is usually committed to force-fit a plot point or to misdirect the reader’s attention. Example: In a suspect’s dresser drawer, your protagonist finds a red rubber frog, the incredibly specific calling card of the serial killer he or she is after—but in the end, the suspect isn’t the killer, and no explanation is ever given for the frog’s presence in the suspect’s home.

Overreliance on coincidence. Yes, it is a small world, and sometimes two people who’ve met at the post office only once will share the same birthday and first four digits of their Social Security number, but try to hinge the solution of your mystery on such a flimsy unlikelihood and no reader in their right mind will forgive you. A coincidence or two is okay as minor plot points, but if you can stay away from them altogether, do so.

Treating your reader like a character. Example: Harriet is a psychopath who has been pretending to walk with a limp all book long to throw off the reader and your protagonist. You write a scene in which she’s alone in her kitchen, making dinner, and she’s still limping. Why? For whose benefit? The reader’s, of course. You’ve made Harriet aware of the reader’s prying eyes in her kitchen, and hell if she’s going to give herself away as long as your reader’s around. New rule: Don’t put anyone in a room alone if you don’t want the reader to see how he or she is likely to behave there.

Resorting to hackneyed devices. A phone number scribbled inside a matchbook, a loaded gun that jams at a crucial moment, a killer who confesses all without sufficient reason—these are all cheap stunts that mediocre mystery authors have used since Holmes dropped his first “Elementary” on Watson, and they’re as glaring an indicator now of amateurism as ever. Don’t go there.

Giving up. You’ve written yourself into a corner you can’t find your way out of, lost interest in your story, or run up against a deadline that can’t be extended. For whatever reason, you’re all done wrestling with this beast and you want it over with, so you just slap an ending on it and walk away, leaving your reader wanting for more. Think a reader won’t recognize a rush job when he or she reads one? Think again. The best way to avoid writing a book that falls flat in the end is to treat each one like a bar fight: Never start what you aren’t prepared to finish.

Cheating as outlined above is more glaring in a mystery than a crime novel because of the complexity of the former’s structure and how focused readers are upon its every point of stress. But cheating in a crime novel is no less unforgivable. The suspense of unanswered questions is still the name of the game, whether “Who done it?” is among them or not, and if you don’t answer these questions satisfactorily—that is, without thumbing your nose at reality—your failure is just as great. Perhaps even more so, considering the less restrictive space in which a crime novelist has to operate. With so few rules to worry about (no clues, suspects, or red herrings required), surely it isn’t too much for your reader to expect a little honesty and fair play from you?

To repeat my original complaint, as surely one former teacher or another once told you, cheating is the sign of a lazy mind. Leaving a gaping plot hole open in error is one thing; deliberately plugging it with chewing gum is another. Get in the habit now of checking your work for cheap fixes and eliminate them, no matter how much work this involves. Pros do; amateurs don’t. ’Nuff said.

EXERCISES

SITUATION 1

Though it won’t be revealed until the end of your book, Doreen has murdered her husband’s mistress, Sheila, and hidden the body in the trunk of her car. She’s driving her husband, Joe, to the train station when a tire on her car goes flat and she has to pull over to the side of the road.

 

YOUR MISSION: Write a two-page scene using the third-person narrative during which Doreen talks Joe out of opening the trunk to fix the flat himself, while planting seeds of her guilt the reader can refer to later.

 

THE CHEAT TO AVOID: Having Doreen say or do something inconsistent with her culpability in Sheila’s murder.

SITUATION 2

Homicide cop Lou Gray is searching the dark garage of a murder suspect when a gunman hiding in the shadows steps forward to shoot him dead. The last thing Gray sees before he dies is the highly distinctive necktie the killer is wearing—a tie he’s seen his partner, Will Bennett, wear many times.

 

YOUR MISSION: Write three rational explanations for the killer wearing this tie if Gray’s partner Bennett is NOT the gunman in the garage.

 

THE CHEAT TO AVOID: Overreliance on coincidence.

SITUATION 3

Your P.I. Angie Wentworth is examining the scene of a crime following a double homicide. The police have already gone over the place with a fine-tooth comb without finding any link to the murderer, but Angie discovers something they missed, something that points her to a specific location where the killer might be found.

 

YOUR MISSION: Come up with four things Angie might stumble upon that (a) the police may have logically overlooked; and (b) could indicate the killer’s hiding place.

 

THE CHEAT TO AVOID: Resorting to overused and hackneyed devices.

SITUATION 4

Your first-person narrator, Harry Childs, suffers from occasional blackouts, and isn’t at all sure he’s not the serial killer of young women the police have been looking for.

 

YOUR MISSION: Think of at least five questions your reader would be likely to ask in order to buy into the scenario above.

 

THE CHEAT TO AVOID: Failing to anticipate and answer an obvious question.