When people ask me what I do for a living, nine times out of ten I tell them Iโm
a stay-at-home dad. And thatโs true, mostlyโI do watch my son most of the day.
Iโm only a writer from about ten at night to midnight when my wife and little
boy are asleep. When my wife and I came up with this arrangement, I never
expected it to help me become a better writer, but it has.
I write crime novels mostly, but I enjoy reading psychological suspense, books
that are exciting not because theyโre filled with car chases and gunfights, but
for the uncertainty they evoke in their readers. They leave us on edge the
entire time weโre reading them. Gillian Flynn did this marvelously in
Gone
Girl. Sometimes itโs hard to root for her deeply flawed [but superbly
written] characters, but itโs hard not to feel a pervasive sense of angst while
reading her books.
About two years ago, I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea for a
psychological suspense novel. To save her life, an average guy helps his
girlfriend disappear and then frames her evil and quite powerful stepfather for
her murder. Then, nine years later on the evening after the wicked stepfather is
executed and when my hero is married and has everything heโs ever wanted in
life, his former lover returns to upend his entire world.
I loved the idea, but as soon as I sat down to write it, I realized I had no
idea how. I knew theoretically how to write a suspense novel, but I felt like a
man without a sense of smell trying to describe an old English rose garden.
There was something missing. So, I shelved that idea for a while, and then, as
it often does, life happened. My wife and I had a wonderful, healthy little boy
who taught me more about suspense than I ever expected to learn.
Iโm sure the moms and dads reading this are nodding along right now, but if
youโre not blessed / cursed with children, this will take some explaining. I
learned what suspense was by taking my son to church. Itโs sounds benign and
maybe even a little old fashioned, but Sunday morning church services have
become the most terrifying hour of my life. I have no idea whatโs going to
happen, but Iโm practically guaranteed that something will happen and it will be
horrible and / or mortifying.
Maybe my son will vomit on the sweater of the nice elderly woman beside us.
Maybe heโll burp so loud while the congregation is silently praying that the
minister will feel compelled to mention it during his sermon. Maybe heโll start
screaming the F-word at the top of his lungs while my wife and I frantically dig
through the bottom of our diaper bag for a pacifier. [For the record, heโs
trying to say โtruck,โ but no one believes us when we say that.]
These have all happened, and Iโm pretty sure theyโre going to happen again.
That, Iโve discovered, is the essence of a good suspense story. Psychologically
complex characters are great, but theyโre only part of the puzzle. You need
danger on the horizon to truly enthrall. My boy taught me that. Iโm terrified of
what heโll teach me in toddlerhood.
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