For the past twenty years, my life has run on two parallel tracks—writing novels and teaching others how to write novels. On the writing side, I’ve written over 20 novels for readers of all ages. On the teaching side, I’ve written three bestselling writing guides, opened an online writing school, and taught over 500,000 writers how to plot.
But for two decades, these tracks never intersected. I never “crossed the streams,” (if you’ll allow me to genre hop for a joke that totally shows my age.) It wasn’t until I decided to write my first murder mystery that these two tracks finally crossed—when I accidentally wrote myself into the story.
They say you should write what you know. Well, after 20 novels, you start to run out of things you know and have to start making stuff up (that’s about the time I wrote a space opera that’s pitched as “light sci-fi.”)
But when I decided to write a murder mystery (a genre I’d always loved), I thought it’d be best to go back to writing what I know.
The problem was, I didn’t know much—at least not in the vein that might help me write a captivating crime novel.
I’m not a former crime scene investigator or defense attorney or police detective. I’ve never been snowed in at a remote ski lodge, or stumbled upon a dead body, or been key witness to a crime. (I witnessed a fight in my junior high school cafeteria once, but I didn’t think that counted.)
The one thing I did know after publishing 20 novels and teaching 500,000 writers how to write…was writing. Or maybe more specifically…writers.
Is there something there? I wondered.
Can I turn my knowledge of writers into a compelling murder mystery?
Maybe if they’re all mystery writers who know how to plot the perfect murder and I strand them at a mystery writing conference with a common enemy who turns up dead…
I was intrigued.
I knew right away that I wanted one of those writers to be an unnamed narrator who introduces themselves as the writer of the very book you’re reading, but isn’t identified until the very end. A “mystery writer” (if you’ll allow me to make the most obvious joke in the world.)
I tested out the idea, writing a handful of these “mystery writer” passages. And something strange happened. My brain lit up. The character came alive in my head. The pages just poured out of me, like I was channeling something. Or someone.
As it turned out, I was. I just didn’t realize who I was channeling until my best friend pointed it out after reading some of my early chapters. This is one of the passages I sent her, written by my unnamed “mystery writer.”
The first thing you need to know about writing a murder is that you must stay in control of the narrative at all times. The characters will try to fool you into thinking they’re calling the shots. They’re not. Never forget whose story this really is. Who’s helming the ship. Who’s hiding behind the curtain, pulling all the strings, doing all the work.
That would be me, by the way.
I am the mastermind behind everything that’s about to happen. I researched it and planned it and spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over it. I forged it in the crucible of my own pain and regret and imagination.
This is my pièce de résistance. My perfect murder. And it’s just beginning.
Some say the perfect murder doesn’t exist. I say these people have never met a writer. Writers know how much effort it takes to craft a plot that works. You have to plan every detail, anticipate every twist and turn, set up every payoff, and strike just the right balance of real clues and red herrings.
And I’ve done that.
I’ve plotted and replotted this murder. I’ve outlined and reoutlined. (I’ve had a lot of time to work on this.) Everything is ready. The timeline of events is set. My plan is already in motion. Nothing can or will go wrong. I’m sure of it.
Because if anyone can get away with murder, it’s a writer.
After my best friend read that, she texted me. “Oh my god! It’s you!”
“What?” I texted back. “That is definitely not me. I’m not a devious, snarky villain! I couldn’t even watch a fight in my junior high school cafeteria!”
To which she replied, “No, the teacher part. That’s what you’d sound like if you were a devious snarky villain who also taught people how to write murders.”
And that’s when something clicked.
A devious, snarky villain who teaches people how to write murders…while one is being committed.
That was the premise! Heck, it was even the title.
How to Write a Murder
It was my two worlds colliding—my writer self and my teacher self—fused into a snarky, villainous narrator who’s peeling back the curtain to show you all the tricks of the trade—while actively using them against you.
Is it really me? Did I actually write myself into a murder mystery as a villain? I’ll answer that question in the same way I answer a question I often get from my writing students:
How can I stop writing characters that sound like me?
The answer is, you can’t. At least not entirely. Because every character you write will inherit something from you. Your voice, your hair color, your job, your fear of spiders, a traumatic moment from your past. How can they not? They were forged from the crucible of your own imagination. As writers, we can try our best to disguise our characters, but there’s only so much we can make up. Sooner or later, we realize that we can’t not write ourselves into the story. We can’t not write what we know. Because it’s all we know.
Jessica Brody is the author of more than 20 novels for teens, tweens, and adults including How to Write a Murder, The Geography of Lost Things, The Chaos of Standing Still, Amelia Gray is Almost Okay, and the System Divine trilogy. She’s also the author of the #1 bestselling Save the Cat! Writes a Novel plotting guides and her latest guide for writers, Page One to Done as well as the founder of the Writing Mastery Academy, dedicated to helping fiction writers get unstuck and finish their novels. Her books have been translated and published in over 20 languages and several have been optioned for film and television. She lives with her husband and dogs near Portland, OR.
