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Today's #TuesdayTip is actually a book review: How To Catch A Killer by Katherine Ramsland, PhD.
I decided to place it here, rather than on my #RecommendedReads blog, as it is more of a useful resource than a 'story'.
Prof. Ramsland teaches forensic psychology and criminology and is the author of numerous books and academic articles, as well as an advisor for many documentaries.
There are lots of books out there about serial killers or murderers, and they vary from the lurid to the informative; those that seek primarily to entertain and those that are geared more towards academic study. This book can be seen as a catalogue of case studies, written by an academic for the mass market.

The first thing to note, is that a lot of thought has been put into how the book is organised. There are 30 case studies, a mixture of well-known individuals, eg BTK, ABC Killer, Son of Sam etc and more obscure ones, such as The Mad Carpenter. The earliest case dates from 1898 with latest cases almost in the present day. There is a strong bias towards the US, but there are also examples from the UK, Europe, Central America and Africa.
Each study consists of a couple of pages describing the crime(s) and victims and what is known about the individual who killed them, followed by an account of the capture. These are given in an easy-to-read prose style. Next there is a short key facts summary. Finally, Ramsland gives a commentary from her perspective as a professional.
Ramsland has chosen to divide the cases by the manner in which they were captured. This distinction is rather artificial to be honest, with sections such as Forensic Innovation, Mistakes and Miscalculations or Witness Reports. A lot of the cases overlap but it is as good a way to do it as any. A comprehensive index at the rear increases its use a as a reference guide.

I bought this book for a number of professional reasons but primarily, I am always looking for tools that can help me craft a realistic and compelling antagonist.

To make a fictional killer work, you need to consider several different components.
Motivation
This is true of any character - good or bad - but especially one as complex as a murderer. In the real world, it isn't always obvious why somebody commits such crimes, but in fiction "we'll probably never know why he did it" is rarely acceptable. Neither will the reader be satisfied with "he's just barking mad".
I wanted to gain an insight into realistic motivations. The book seeks to explain (and sometimes put forth the killer's explanation) for what they did.
Character Traits
Murderers and serial killers come from all walks of life. Some are weird, scary loners. Others are quiet but apparently normal, and some are the centre of the community and loved by everyone. Many, but by no means all, had a very bad childhood. Some appear to have had brain damage, others might be genetically pre-disposed. Others are a mystery. The book has multiple examples of them all.
Then there is the persistent stereotype of a lone white male etc etc. The book contains numerous case studies of offenders that don't fit this profile.
Offending Pattern
One of the ways that many serial killers are caught, or linked to additional crimes, is through similarities in methodology between different crime scenes. Some serial murderers are driven to bizarre rituals that are so unusual that their crimes absolutely must have been committed by one individual. Others are less obvious, and so may not be noticed by investigators. Again this book has plenty examples of them all. 

With all that said, as a writer, you have a choice.
First, you can attempt to craft a serial killer that readers will understand and recognise. These characters are enormously popular, and whilst we all try to bring something original to the table, you will see characters that range from those where the writer has latched onto an idea seen in the real world and greatly expanded upon it, to stories where the character is clearly heavily influenced by one or more real individuals. This can be enormously effective - Robert Harris' Silence of the Lambs is one of the most lauded fictional depictions of serial killers in literature or film. Both Lecter and Buffalo Bill are inspired in part by real-life people.
The advantage of this is that your character, whilst extreme, will feel 'real' - after all, somebody once upon at time was just like that!
The alternative is to try and craft a serial killer that subverts many of the stereotypes or common tropes. If successful, it will feel highly original. The danger is that if you have a character that bears no resemblance to anyone real then it might feel far-fetched. There maybe a good reason why nobody has thought to have a character do that before!
In either scenario, there is a strong argument to be made that research into these killers can only help - either by providing inspiration, or by helping you know the rules so you can break them more effectively. A book like this can be very useful.

Final Thoughts.
My partner and I watch a lot of documentaries about murderers and serial killers. We are familiar with most of the 'big names', and the basic facts about the cases. Sometimes, we've seen the same person examined by more than one series. What I enjoyed about this book, is that it often gave a very different perspective to a case I thought I knew.
A very good example is that of Ed Kemper, the gigantic man known as the Co-ed Killer. In documentaries, and on the NetFlix semi-fictionalised series Mindhunter, much is made of Kemper's thoughtful, self-reflective intelligence, willingness to cooperate and help law enforcement  and the fact that he is a model prisoner. Indeed, it is sometimes easy to almost overlook the horrific nature of his crimes and see him as a fairly affable, friendly man. Ramsland gives little space over to that, and her insights remind the reader of what a monster Kemper really was (and perhaps still is).


Have you read this book? What did you think? Would you recommend any other, similar books?
Feel free to comment here or on social media.
Until next week,
Paul

Welcome to this week's #TuesdayTip.
​Today is all about writing about UK police.
I'd planned on doing something along these lines for months, but recently I have been hanging around some writers' forums and I've realised that writing about the police, especially if you've never written a crime novel before, can be very intimidating. Furthermore, if you aren't a resident of these fair isles, then getting those little details that make a book set in the UK feel 'authentic' can be really difficult.
This is an unapologetically long post, so feel free to skim.
First of all, full disclosure. I have never been a police officer, and there are many who are far more qualified than I to answer specific questions about procedure etc. But I am a lifelong UK resident, and I have written more than ten police procedurals that - touch wood - readers seem happy have got it mostly correct.
If you're looking for specific details, you can do far worse than to check out Graham Bartlett's blog.
Basically, this is a bluffer's guide for crimewriters. Any errors are mine. If you spot one don't be shy about letting me know!
About this article.
First, I am going to assume that you are writing modern police procedure (ie set within the last 10 years or so). Second, that you are setting your book primarily on the UK mainland, not an overseas territory, and your officers work for a territorial force, not a specialist force such as the Ministry of Defence Police, the British Transport Police or the Civil Nuclear Constabulary. Third, my books are all set in England, so everything is based on English and Welsh law. Both Scotland and Northern Ireland have their own legal systems. Whilst a sworn police officer from one UK jurisdiction can exercise broadly the same powers in any of the other two jurisdictions (subject to certain rules being met), terminology and rules vary, so I urge you to double-check the details if you are setting your story outside England and Wales. A Scottish reader will not be impressed if you talk about the Crown Prosecution Service, rather than the Procurator Fiscal in a book set in Edinburgh!
The Basics.
The UK has 45 territorial police forces.

• 43 in England and Wales, based geographically.
• Police Scotland (consolidated from 8 regional forces to one single organisation in 2013).
• The Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI). This was known as the RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary) until 2001, when it was rebranded in an effort to make it more inclusive, particularly to members of the nationalist communities.

Policing in England and Wales is overseen by the Home Office which is headed by the Home Secretary. The Ministry of Justice is responsible for courts etc. MI5 and MI6 are the domestic and overseas intelligence services respectively, and as such are not considered police.
A key difference between the UK and many other countries is that the police service is very joined up. This contrasts with the States, where a region can be policed by a city police department, the state police and even the local sheriff's department, all of whom have different responsibilities and organisational structures etc. For convenience's sake, you can generally regard the UK police service as a single organisation, with regional branches.
All forces use the same major computer systems. For example the Police National Computer (PNC) and the Home Office Large Major Enquiry System (HOLMES2). All vehicles are registered at the DVLA in Swansea, Wales. Therefore UK police are not plagued by the issues suffered by some countries, where an offender can mask their criminal history by simply committing crimes in different parts of the country. Details of an offence recorded in Devon and Cornwall for example, are immediately available to colleagues in Newcastle, should they have reason to look up that individual on the PNC. For major enquiries, such as murders, details previously inputted into HOLMES2 in Manchester about one crime, may be drawn to the attention of officers in London investigating a similar crime (the system has a form of Artificial Intelligence that allows it to recognise patterns and suggest courses of action).
Addressing misconceptions.

• We do not have an FBI.

The United States needs a federal law enforcement agency that can act across multiple states and jurisdictions. For the reasons listed above, the UK doesn't really need one. The National Crime Agency (NCA), is sometimes referred to as the UK's version of the FBI, but it isn't. It specialises in organised crime, rather than the FBI's broader remit.

• "New Scotland Yard" or "The Met" are colloquial terms for London's Metropolitan Police Force.

Although the biggest force in the UK, they are not like the FBI. Other forces are typically quite capable of dealing with most crimes, and the Met will not swoop in uninvited to take over. A smaller force might request assistance if they feel that the Met has additional resources or skills that would be useful. In Golden Age detective novels (think Agatha Christie's era) small, rural forces might never have dealt with a murder and so they might 'send for Scotland Yard', but that is no longer the case in modern times.

• All UK police officers are constables.

Regardless of rank and title, whether they are on the beat or behind a desk, they remain a sworn constable with the same powers of arrest etc.

• UK Officers carry Warrant Cards, not badges.
• Suspects are charged by the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS).

The CPS (Procurator Fiscal in Scotland and Public Prosecution Service for Northern Ireland) authorises charging of suspects for serious crimes. The closest analogy in the US would be the District Attorney. The CPS will work with officers to determine if they have reached the 'threshold' for charging and then conduct the prosecution. CPS Direct allows for charging decisions to be made electronically or by phone 24/7.

• UK suspects are entitled to a solicitor not a lawyer.

It's a small detail, and is essentially just a label, but lawyer is a rarely used term in professional circles (although the public will often refer to them that way). In the UK suspects have solicitors, and are represented at trial by barristers.

• Suspects are entitled to free legal counsel if they cannot afford their own.

Police stations have lists of independent 'duty solicitors' who can provide this. Unlike the US, where detectives will try and stall suspects from 'lawyering up' as long as possible, in the UK suspects will typically request one as soon as they can. I am assured by defence solicitors that it is not unknown for an interviewing officer to try and push a suspect to get a solicitor - ultimately, it is better for everyone concerned if it is all above board. The 'no comment interview' is as popular in the UK as the US!

• Custody Officers are responsible for a detainee's welfare.

When a person is arrested, they are taken to a police station for detention or questioning. The custody officer (usually a sergeant) authorises their detention (books them in) according to strict criteria. They are then responsible for their wellbeing - physical, mental and legal. They take this role seriously, and cannot be compelled to bend the strict rules surrounding time limits or access to legal counsel by a senior officer. Unless your book specifically has a corrupt or negligent custody officer as part of your story, don't try and fudge this.

• The rules for arresting or cautioning suspects, detaining them, conducting searches and interviews etc are the same across the entire country.

In England and Wales this is governed by the Police and Criminal Evidence Act of 1984 (PACE). Scotland and NI have broadly similar documents. I am going to write a specific blog post on this, but it is worth downloading a copy as reference. Unless your officers are bent, they will adhere to this. Wikipedia is a good introductory source.

• The term WPC (Woman Police Constable) fell out of use years ago.

No distinction is made between male, female or non-gendered officers.

• The correct term is 'senior officer' not 'superior officer'.
• Detective is not a title or mode of address.

Officers would be addressed by their rank or name, not as 'Detective Jones'.

• Detectives do not outrank non-detectives (see below for more detail).
• UK Police Officers are not routinely armed (see below for more detail).

UK Police Ranks
With the exception of the most senior ranks, which can vary slightly between forces (eg the head of the Metropolitan Police is called 'Commissioner', rather than Chief Constable), UK police forces use the same rank structure.
(Note that the abbreviations in brackets can vary, so are only a guide to some of the more common ones).

• Constable (PC or Con)
• Sergeant (PS or Sgt)
• Inspector (Insp)
• Chief Inspector (Ch Insp)
• Superintendent (Sup)
• Chief Superintendent (Ch Sup)

Then there are the chief police officers, who are largely managerial.
Assistant Chief Constables (ACC)
Deputy Chief Constables
With the head of the force referred to as the Chief Constable.

All these officers typically wear uniforms, and are often referred to collectively as 'uniformed officers' to distinguish them from plain-clothed detectives.

Officers who undergo additional training and pass appropriate exams to join the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) have the prefix 'Detective' added to their rank, however it is not a rank in and of itself. They typically wear smart business attire or clothing appropriate to their role.

• Detective Constable (DC Det Con)
• Detective Sergeant (DS)
• Detective Inspector (DI or Det Insp)
• Detective Chief Inspector (DCI or Det Ch Insp)
• Detective Superintendent (DSI or Det Sup - there can be some variation here)
• Detective Chef Superintendent (DCS Det Ch Sup)

The prefix is not used for chief police officers, who typically have a wider managerial role than just investigation.

It is important to stress that Criminal Investigation is a specialism, not a promotion. A detective constable does not outrank a regular constable. A constable joining CID won't be promoted to DS. A sergeant joining would not have to start again from the rank of DC.
Not everyone guns for promotion. Many officers happily remain as constables or sergeants for the entirety of their career, having found a role that suits them. Many become extremely specialised and are respected for their skills, rather than their rank.

Firearms.
This is probably the thing that most confuses non-UK citizens.
(Note: Because of the Troubles, the rules in Northern Ireland are different.)
Rank and file police officers are not armed and are not trained in firearm use. Gun crime is very rare in the UK and the private ownership of handguns is illegal. Other types of firearms are strictly licensed.
Armed officers are referred to as Specialist Firearms Officers (SFOs) and have to undergo specialist training. The guns are issued as needed, under strict authorisation. They are returned after use and officers are subject to the same laws as any other citizen, so they certainly do not take them home, nor do they have a personal weapon.
Only SFOs can use guns - regular officers cannot simply go and get tooled up, no matter the situation (decades ago, this was not the case, especially after the war when many officers may have done military service, which is why older crime fiction might have officers pulling a gun).
SFOs called to an incident will be in Armed Response Vehicles (with the guns secured in the boot of the car - not the trunk, that's an American term).
Armed patrols do exist of course. For example at ports or even on the streets during heightened terrorist activities, but again these will always be trained officers. Special Branch is a division of the Met and will provide armed protection for VIPs.
TASERS are similarly restricted.
A typical uniformed police officer is issued with a metal extending baton (ASP), the modern replacement for the old wooden truncheons, and incapacitant spray. It might not be as glamorous as a Glock, but I'm reliably informed it gets the job done!

Modes of address/nicknames.
Although the UK is a rather informal society, the police is still a hierarchical structure.
Senior officers would refer to junior officers by rank (eg constable) or by their name (or nickname).
More junior officers would refer to senior colleagues by rank or titles such as Sir, Ma'am or more informally Guv (abbr of Guvnor), Boss, Chief, Super (Superintendent) etc. This will vary regionally and within groups. As in any organisation, friendships develop and in more informal settings long-standing colleagues may refer to senior officers by their given names or nicknames.
The police are often referred to by the public as Coppers or Bobbies (after Robert Peel, father of the modern police service - the related term Peelers is rarely used these days). Regional terms might include Bizzies (for example on Merseyside), as well as less polite terms such as Pigs. American terms such as Fuzz or even 5-0 or Feds are occasionally used, although usually by younger people.

Well, I think that's about it!
As I stated at the outset, this is a bluffer's guide for crimewriters and is not comprehensive.
If you spot anything that is missing - or any errors! - please don't hesitate to let me know, and I am open to editing the post.
I hope it is helpful.
Until next time,
Paul

If ever you decide that you fancy visiting some of my character DCI Warren Jones' favourite haunts - for example the ruined Middlesbury Abbey featured in Forgive Me Father or The University of Middle England that is central to The Last Straw - then I have some bad news for you.
None of them exist.
The north Hertfordshire market town of Middlesbury is entirely a product of my imagination.
In this week's #TuesdayTip, I want to discuss the pros and cons of setting your books in a fictional locale, or telling your tales in a real place.
For me, setting my books in an imaginary town was more a product of necessity than choice, having lived a fairly peripatetic lifestyle for the past quarter-century. After leaving Coventry where I was brought up to attend university, I have rarely lived anywhere for more than a couple of years at a time. I have worked at or attended universities in four different cities (on two continents), have lived in at least seven different counties and about ten different cities. If you think that makes me sound like some metropolitan sophisticate who can set his books in a host of different places, then you'd be wrong.
The problem is that I have never really lived anywhere long enough to absorb the feel of a place. Police officers intimately know their beat and if that beat exists in the real world then those that write them need to know it equally well. Even worse, some of their readers will also know that place and will let the author know if they screw up!
I would dearly love to have set my series in a real town. I greatly admire writers like Ian Rankin or Michael Connelly, whose depictions of Edinburgh and Los Angeles are so vivid one feels as though you are walking alongside Rebus or Bosch. A few weeks ago, I binge-read and reviewed Rachel Lynch's DI Kelly Porter series. Set in the Lake District, there is no faking Rachel's intimate knowledge of that part of Cumbria. MW Craven also writes about that area and his knowledge of the county shines through.
Unfortunately, at the time that I started writing the book that would eventually become The Last Straw, I was living in a small north Hertfordshire town chosen purely for its cheap rent and proximity to work. Good road and rail connections meant that my socialising was done in far more interesting places, such as Cambridge. Even were there anything of note in that perfectly pleasant, but desperately bland town, I never had the time to get to know it. Back then I was still a full-time teacher, and my weekends were spent either visiting friends and family in other cities, or installed in the local library trying to become a writer...
Therefore, I decided that Middlesbury had to be fictional.
Tip: if you locate your town geographically in the same place as a real town,  then you have some easy anchors. You can keep track of nearby transport links for consistency, Google Maps can calculate realistic travel times to other cities and you can even pinch some of the real location's demographic information etc if the town is similar to your imagined place.

What should you consider?
Advantages of a real place:
Readers love real-world locations. Whether they get a kick out of seeing somewhere they know really well on the page, or they enjoy escaping to somewhere they've never been but might one day visit, books intimately associated with a place can do very well. You may even persuade the tourist office to stock a few copies, and libraries and bookstores love a local author, or someone that writes about their hometown.
Furthermore, much of the hard work has been done for you! There are maps to plan your character's routes, real shops and landmarks that you can photograph to help you when writing a description. There are local legends and documented events that can stimulate your own stories.
The downside:
You need to do your research. Unless you set the book in a fictionalised version of that area (and make that explicit in the book's disclaimer), any errors that you make WILL be noticed and remarked upon!

Advantages of a fictional place:
Your town, your rules! One of the limitations of wedding your story to a real place is that you are stuck with what that location has to offer. When I wrote The Last Straw, I needed a small, regional university. The real-world location for Middlesbury didn't have one, and I didn't want to set it in the academic behemoth a couple of junctions up the M11, so the University of Middle England was born. Easy peasy.
Need a ruined medieval abbey attached to a priest's retirement home? Check.
A multiplex cinema? Yes.
A housing estate with a half-dozen tower blocks? OK.
A nice open common, that nevertheless has enough trees for somebody to be killed out of sight? Yup, Middlesbury has one of those.
The downside:
Keeping track of it and having to invent so much! I don't mind a bit of town planning, it can be quite fun, but it is also time consuming.
Tip; You can help yourself by using other places that you know well as a framework. The centre of Middlesbury, which I needed to properly lay out for The Common Enemy, is based on a small town I once lived in. The shop names and other details are different, but as I can picture that town if I close my eyes, I can always visualise Middlesbury if I need to.
Once you've written a few in the series, it's inevitable that you are going to need to start revisiting some of these locations, otherwise your town can become bigger than London!
Tip: Keep a file noting some of the key landmarks. It'll save you hours of trawling through previous manuscripts to find the correct spelling of the red light district (true story).
Of course you will also need to populate your imaginary town with imaginary businesses that have imaginary names - I wrote a previous article looking at how to name fictional businesses.

So what about a middle ground?
Some authors have taken the approach I use of placing a fictional town in a real location much further. Peter Robinson sets his DI Banks series in the Yorkshire Dales, referencing and even visiting real places, but seamlessly switching to fictional locales whenever he needs to. On the other hand, were one to use Kate Rhodes' excellent Alice Quentin series as a map of London it would probably end in disaster, with some significant cartographical liberties taken in the name of telling a good story (it's probably worth including a disclaimer if you choose to do this). Colin Dexter famously expanded the number of colleges that make up Oxford University, so that he can give Morse a really meaty case without sullying the name of such august institutions.

​So where do you stand? Do you want to set your books in a real place with all of its history and architecture and character to draw upon? Or do you want the freedom of a blank canvas and the opportunity to invent somewhere perfect for your story?
Feel free to share your thoughts either here or on social media.
Until next time, take care.
Paul

"At no point in the history of policing, has a criminal ever said 'it's a fair cop, guv.'"
This was the response of a retired senior police officer when I asked him about his views on swearing in police procedurals.
It goes without saying that most criminals don't wish to be apprehended, and are wont to disclose their displeasure verbally at the arresting officer.
So how should one deal with this in crime fiction?
I will assume for the purposes of this post that you are a writer of fiction for adults - the debate about what is acceptable if your target audience is 8-12 years or below is doubtless a vigorous one, but I'm going to hazard a guess that the C word and the F-bomb are off limits.


The problem with swearing is it can be a very divisive issue. If one takes profanity in society as a whole, modern attitudes may well have become more relaxed in recent years, but there are still those that hate it with a passion. On the flipside, there are those who love a good bit of clever swearing. Billy Connelly, famous for his remarkable fluency with four-letter words, strongly disputes the notion that people swear because they have a limited vocabulary or they lack imagination, and I agree. To writers, vocabulary is a tool, and we take care when choosing the words we use  including expletives. Some writers seem to eff and jeff at every turn, and it is tempting to assume that they just throw those words down with little thought. Nothing could be farther from the truth. That initial draft will have been scrutinised repeatedly and every word that makes it through - profane or not - has fought for its place.


Scriptwriters for the BBC political comedy series The Thick Of It reportedly employed a swearing consultant to whom they would send scripts for vetting. Not to tone down the language, but rather to elevate it; the epic, foul-mouthed tirades uttered by the series' Scottish spin doctor, Malcolm Tucker, verged on the poetic.


Of course it isn't just disgruntled criminals that might swear. There are also the other characters in the story and crucially, the police themselves.
Members of HM Constabulary are trained professionals, working in a professional environment. But they are also human beings dealing with other human beings. The language you depict them using needs to be realistic. In face-to-face interactions with the public they are likely to be firm but polite, avoiding swearing as a rule - the manager of your local supermarket probably wouldn't tell a customer to F-off, unless they were being really difficult, so neither would a police officer. When dealing with an aggressive suspect, then they may very well swear. Your job is to try and find that balance. Look at the scene you are writing, and if in doubt ask somebody else's opinion as to whether it seems plausible or realistic.
Away from the front-line, much detective work is office-based. Consider the sort of language you might hear in a normal office, populated by typical adults.
The world of teaching has a surprising number of parallels with policing. Teachers deal with the public (pupils and occasionally parents) face-to-face all day. Sometimes those dealings can be confrontational. Swearing would neither be expected nor tolerated, except in the most extreme of circumstances (most teachers, when pressed, will admit to accidentally swearing when taken by surprise. I'm a science teacher, we handle hot objects... you get the picture). But in the staffroom, away from prying ears, the language is what you would expect: some staff never swear - because they don't swear in daily life. Other staff would make Malcolm Tucker blush. Junior teachers would probably watch their language around the senior leadership team, but unlike the police, schools aren't especially hierarchical.


So here is what you need to consider.

• Is it appropriate for the time and setting?
• Is it appropriate for the characters ? Don't forget to consider each person individually. It can be an intrinsic part of that character's voice.
• Does it fit with 'your brand'? Readers get to know a writer's style, and it can be jarring if basic things like profanity change significantly. It can also be embarrassing if somebody recommends you on the basis that you generally write clean, family-friendly fun but your central character calls someone a 'C U Next Tuesday', and tells them to 'Foxtrot Oscar' on the opening page of your next novel...
• Will the narrator swear, or will you confine it to dialogue? I never swear in any of my books, but some of my characters have real potty mouths! For this you need to consider the point of view - is it first or third person? Will readers feel that you are the narrator, and thus associate what is written with your personal views?
• What words do YOU feel are acceptable in your books? Some people have a real problem with the C word. Leaving aside your audience, do you feel comfortable using certain words, even if your characters probably would use them in real life?
• Just how realistic do you need to be?
• Can you avoid spelling out the swearing, but imply it? Authors of children and young adult books are limited in what they can portray, so if you want to really avoid it try seeing how they deal with the issue. Another trick (although you should use it sparingly, so that it doesn't become silly), is to have a character start a sentence, then get interrupted or just trail off.​ "Oh for F...." started Warren, before biting his tongue. It wasn't her fault, she was just the messenger..

So, where do you stand on swearing in books?
As always, feel free to comment here or on social media.
Until next week, all the best.
Paul

"When you introduce Character X for the first time, can you just remind readers about..."
So said an editorial note on my latest manuscript.
My editor was referring to a very significant occurrence that happened in an earlier story that still has repercussions several books later. To avoid spoilers it shall be referred to from herein  as 'the big event'.


My instinct, like a lot of writers, is to clutch my secrets close to my chest. I spend a lot of time working out exactly how and when to make key revelations in my novels. Like many authors I despair at Amazon's steadfast refusal to takedown, edit, or even flag with a spoiler tag, instances where the reviewer has literally given away the big twist in the book. I want the reader to be surprised, and so naturally, I'm not going to write on the blurb "don't worry folks, it all comes right in the end" or "heads-up people, get the tissues ready, because your favourite character isn't going to make it past chapter 52!". Feedback from readers suggests that 'the big event' took them by surprise, and evoked the emotions that I wanted from them. Good!


The problem of course is that I write a series and all books set after 'the big event' are impacted by it. The status quo changed in a way that can't be undone. In a TV show, it is increasingly common for there to be a sixty-second recap before the opening credits. That's fine if your audience watches each episode in sequence and doesn't miss one. In these days of catch-up and on-demand, that's pretty much the norm now. The recap won't spoil anything that has happened in previous episodes, as you've already seen them. Rather it is an aide memoire.
But books aren't like that. For everyone following your books as they are released, or who decides to seek out book 1 & 2 in the series before diving into book 3 which they bought as it was on sale, there are readers who bought that reduced copy of book 3 and started reading it immediately.


And there in lies every writer's dilemma. How do I refresh the memories of previous readers of my series about 'the big event' - which they may have read several years ago - without ruining 'the big event' for those reading out of sequence, who might then decide to go back and read the book it actually happened in?


This exact situation occurred to me recently for a different 'big event'. For this summer's book, I enlisted another beta reader. When I sent them the manuscript for Warren Jones 7, they happened to be partway through reading Warren Jones 6, A Price to Pay, which had just come out in paperback. Keen to help out, they immediately put aside book 6, and started book 7. Unfortunately, they had stopped book 6 whilst the characters were facing a crisis that could have gone either way. It's pretty clear early on in book 7 how that crisis was resolved. I felt a little sad that somebody willing to take the time to help out with a series they enjoy was inadvertently denied a small part of that enjoyment.
Ultimately, I value all of my readers. Whether they have been with me for ten books since 2014, or they just downloaded a copy of whatever was on sale that week, willing to try a new author, I want to serve them both.
So, if you are a series writer, you need to consider how to address this.
How much detail will you include in later books? The presence or absence of a character in future books will inevitably hint at the outcome of any mortal situation that you place them in in any earlier books. How will you deal with that? Do you just gloss over it and never mention it? You can do that with a minor character, but it will seem strange to loyal readers if a major character is bumped off in book 6 and then apparently written out of history, never to be mentioned again. And I dare say that if a reader joins the series at book 7 and enjoys it so much they decide to buy your back-catalogue, they are gong to be somewhat confused also.
Sometimes, you can't avoid the elephant in the room, but you don't have to describe exactly what happened, or even when. You don't have to say,
"The team still missed Beauregard. His violent stabbing at the hands of Mrs Blenkinsopp, the unlikely serial killer who terrorised the neighbourhood six months ago, had been unexpected; coming as it did at what they thought was the end of the investigation, the man she successfully framed behind bars, lulling Beauregard into a false sense of security..."
You have well and truly spoiled whatever book was set 6 months ago.
Instead, keep it vague.
"The loss of Beau remained raw, the team still mourning him."
All that tells you is that he was (probably) killed relatively recently. It could have been in the previous book, or the one before it. It may have happened at the start or the end, and the circumstances are yet to be discovered by new readers. Hopefully, this simply adds a little frisson of foreshadowing. Inevitably, every time poor Beauregard is placed in danger in earlier books some readers will now wonder is this it? But that anticipation might be a good thing. For returning readers, this is hopefully just a trigger to remind them why Beauregard has yet to make an appearance five chapters in.


So accept that you will need to risk ruining the surprise sometimes. It is unfortunate, but with careful writing you can still give readers new and old the experience that they deserve.
Do you write a series? How have you dealt with on-going storylines?
Feel free to comment here or on social media.
Until next time,
Paul