TuesdayTips150

Artistic Licence.
Ignore Or Explain It Away?

In last week's #TuesdayTip (Tip149) I discussed how it is important to make your procedure authentic, rather than realistic; to craft a compelling story without burdening your readers with too much detail. This week I want to look at a related idea - how to get away with using artistic licence.
It's something that we all struggle with. Artistic licence is the need to 'break the rules' to create a compelling story. We often see this in police procedurals. An admittedly unscientific survey I conducted of the books on my bookshelf, reveals that the main character in most of these books (especially those in a series) is usually an implausibly high rank. A Detective Chief Inspector or Detective Inspector, or even a Superintendent. This dogged individual will visit crime scenes, interview witnesses and suspects, chase bad guys and even perform the arrest at the end. My own series of books centre around DCI Warren Jones, who does all of the above.
Unfortunately, in real-life this is far from what really happens. In the UK, inspector ranks and above are largely office-based. They are likely to be the Senior Investigating Officer (SIO) in charge of a major investigation, but it is an organisational role. They direct the case, but the legwork is usually carried out by detective constables or detective sergeants. Interviewing is a highly specialised role these days, conducted by interview specialists, which are almost exclusively DCs and sometimes DSs. SIOs will often visit a crime scene, but they are usually being shown around by other experts who have already been on site for some time. And they certainly don't go running after suspects and arrest them.
But for narrative purposes, a DI or DCI is an extremely useful rank. The implied level of seniority means that they can plausibly decide how the case is going to be solved, with a team below them to carry out the work, whilst still having to answer to those above them (a great source of narrative conflict). In theory, they see all the evidence and can piece together all the pieces to 'solve the case'. That's not how it works in real-life. In reality it is far more of a team effort, but for the purposes of story-telling readers (and viewers) need a 'hero' they can focus on.


I came up against another instance of reality getting in the way of my story very early in the series. My books are set in a fictional north-Hertfordshire town called Middlesbury, but Warren and his team are officers in the very real Hertfordshire Constabulary. About halfway through writing book one, The Last Straw I was doing some research and realised to my horror that ALL major crime in Hertfordshire and the adjoining counties of Bedfordshire and Cambridgeshire is investigated in one big building in Welwyn Garden City run by the three constabularies to increase efficiency and save costs. I had already set up the team structure as described above, with Middlesbury CID consisting of a Detective Superintendent in overall charge, my hero DCI Warren Jones as SIO and then a small team of officers below him. This places Warren in the centre, and limits the number of major characters that readers need to get to know. It also allows those characters to remain consistent from book to book, rather than each investigation being staffed by a different selection of officers assigned from a pool (conveniently, none of my main characters are on annual leave when each year's murder happens!).


As a writer, I therefore had two choices. Either ignore reality and hope my readers will forgive me because it's a cracking story. Or address it head-on. In my series, I decided to address it head on. I explain that Middlesbury CID (which is geographically quite distant from Welwyn Garden City and semi-rural) is a unique 'first response CID unit'. Middlesbury deals with major crime in the local area and recruits additional officers as needed from Welwyn. This is a complete fiction, as far as I am aware.
This set-up also helped me address the other big use of artistic licence; DCI Jones being the heart of the action. I've made it a bit of an in-joke, with Warren being acknowledged as probably the only officer of his rank who still interviews suspects and visits crime scenes (some of his peers are jealous that he gets to poke around crime scenes whilst they are stuck in budget meetings). Narratively, it also means that Middlesbury and Warren are always under pressure to justify their unique (and costly) status.
Touch wood, my readers seem happy to accept this and I have had few, if any criticisms. I've even had the odd retired police officer comment that 'it sounds like something we might do'.
So my advice is this:
If you are going to use artistic licence to break the rules, first know the rules so you can break them effectively. Then decide whether you are going to ignore this on the grounds "it's fiction, innit?" or if you are going to explain it away.
Lee Child once said that readers will forgive one big instance of implausibility. He was specifically referring to the fact that about once a year, Jack Reacher will wander into a small American town where there is a problem bubbling beneath the surface, which he will then fix in his own unique way (spoiler alert: there will be violence and mayhem and the evildoers will usually end up buried in the ground, before Reacher moves on, never to be seen again until it's time for the next book).
So, decide what your instances of implausibility are and decide whether you are going to keep them or fix them. And if you keep them, whether or not to address them head on.
Do you have examples of artistic licence? How do you think they should be dealt with?
As always feel free to comment here or on social media.
If you are a writer with a tip to share, or fancy writing a fictional interview between you and one of your characters, please feel free to email me.
Until next time,
Paul