The Elements of Mystery Fiction: Writing the Modern Whodunit Read Online Free Page B

summary of this story of detection, too, taking elements of the first storyline and placing them into the second. I laid out the story’s various turning points—the opening scene with the dying mother, Brady’s encounters with each of the people in Mary Ellen’s life, the discovery of Mary Ellen’s body. I converted facts from the first story into clues, dead-end trails, false suspects, and misleading assumptions.
    As the story took shape, it transformed itself into a sequence of scenes, each of which moved the story forward, introduced new information, raised new questions, complicated the puzzle, and jacked up the stakes.
    When I summarized all of the scenes, I was ready to write the book. I knew my story. I had direction and purpose.
    Of course, some things changed. As the characters began to participate in actual scenes, they came to life. I discovered that some of them had depths and contradictions and motivations I hadn’t originally imagined, which suggested modifications in the plot. I was receptive to changes, but skeptical, too; I considered them carefully before incorporating them into my story.
    In the end, when the solution to the puzzle was revealed, I hoped that readers could say that everything fit together, the clues were fair, and they knew as much as Brady did. They had experienced my story as a participant, not a mere spectator. I also hoped they would then say, “I should have figured it out for myself. But it fooled me.”
    The case of the short story
     
    The elements of mystery short stories are no different from those of novels. No matter how short, every story has a plot, a setting, and characters. It contains a combination of narrative and dialogue. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
    To say that a short story is the same as the novel except that it is shorter, however, is to ignore some fundamental differences between the two forms. The short story makes special demands on the writer.
    Some of these demands are relatively obvious. The short story involves just a few characters—perhaps only one or two. It typically uses only one setting and a single point of view. It occurs over a short period of time—often as a single event that unfolds without interruption. Descriptions are spare. Characters and settings are drawn with a few deft strokes. Every detail must serve a purpose. Dialogue is spare and to the point.
    In other words, nothing is wasted in the short story, which typically runs from 1,500 to 5,000 words—twenty or more times shorter than an average novel. Regardless of the story’s length, the writer must strive to make every paragraph, every sentence, every word serve a purpose. Rarely can the short story accommodate extended descriptive passages or flashbacks, rambling dialogue, extraneous secondary characters, or subplots. Short stories can be difficult and time-consuming to write, but they are meant to be read in a single uninterrupted sitting. The short story contains a single, focused narrative purpose.
    The “purpose” of the short story is to dramatize just one point, which can usually be stated as the story’s theme: Crime doesn’t pay (or, crime sometimes does pay); a crisis will bring out the best (or the worst) in people; revenge is sweet (or bitter); love conquers all (or hatred conquers love). The story is written with the single-minded aim of dramatizing its point. It teaches a lesson in human nature, it contains a moral, it offers an insight.
    The payoff of the mystery short story comes in the form of a surprise or twist at the climax. It gives the reader a “punch.” The entire story is written to dramatize the meaning of that climactic revelation.
    Anything that does not contribute to maximizing the impact of the punch should be eliminated.
    The punch of most mystery short stories dramatizes the simple theme that things are not what they appear to be. In the classical whodunit story, for example, the most likely suspect is innocent (although in the