Can anyone relate to this? You learn a specific skill—knitting, coding, playing chess—and suddenly you’re applying those patterns everywhere else in your life. That’s what happened when I started paying attention to how crime writers construct their puzzles.

Turns out the techniques we use to keep readers guessing aren’t just for whodunits: they’re the foundation of compelling storytelling in any genre. Whether you’re writing romance, sci-fi, or literary fiction, these crime-solving strategies will strengthen your narrative.

Plant Your Clues Early

Every story needs breadcrumbs. The most satisfying mysteries make readers flip back to Act One and gasp, “It was there all along!” Your readers are detectives whether you’re writing about love, spaceships, or a heist gone wrong. Foreshadowing creates narrative coherence.

Plant hints about your character’s hidden trauma in chapter two, and the breakdown in chapter twenty feels earned, not random. Readers should be able to flip back and think, “Oh. It was always heading here.” Your job is to lay the groundwork so revelations feel inevitable in hindsight, never pulled from thin air.

Kill Your Darlings… Like a Detective

In a mystery, a red herring is meant to mislead readers and an expected genre convention. But there is another type of red herring, the kind that distracts readers from the actual story.

That beautiful scene you labored over? If it doesn’t advance the plot or reveal character, it’s a distracting red herring. Mystery writers must learn to be ruthless about cutting anything that stalls momentum, and so should you. Every sentence must earn its place. Ask yourself: Does this move my story forward? Does it reveal something essential? If the answer is “it’s just really pretty,” you might have found your red herring.

Kill it. Your story will breathe easier.

Your First Draft is Just Gathering Evidence

When detectives arrive at a crime scene, they don’t immediately know what’s important. They collect everything. The broken glass, the footprint, the receipt in the trash, the witness who seems confused. They bag it all. The solving happens later, when they spread everything out and start making connections.

Your first draft works the same way. You’re collecting raw material. That voice that tells you to go back and fix chapter two before you finish chapter three? Ignore it. You can’t investigate a crime scene you haven’t finished documenting.

Give yourself permission to contradict yourself. To write badly. To create plot holes you could drive a truck through. Just keep gathering evidence. The real work happens in revision.

Make Every Character a Suspect

Even your walk-on barista needs motivation. In mysteries, every character could be the killer, which means everyone gets dimension. Apply this to your work: what does each character want, and what will they do to get it?

Depth comes from giving everyone secrets, fears, and goals that occasionally conflict with your protagonist’s. Your story world becomes richer when the taxi driver, the best friend, and the boss all feel like real people with their own agendas.

The Twist is in the Truth

Mystery writers understand this: the best surprises hide in plain sight. You’re not tricking readers with clever sleight of hand. You’re showing them the truth, and letting them discover it feels like magic.

Real revelations come from character truth. When your protagonist finally admits what they’ve been denying. When two storylines that seemed unrelated suddenly converge. When the theme crystallizes in a single image.

Don’t ask yourself, “How can I surprise my reader?” Ask, “What truth has been in this story from page one that I’ve been letting them ignore?”

That’s your twist. And it works in every genre.

Details Create Alibis (and Worlds)

I once wrote: “She was nervous.”

My critique partner wrote in the margin: “Show me.”

I rewrote it: “She twisted her wedding ring until her finger went white.”

Suddenly, the scene worked. Because that detail did three things at once: showed her nervousness, reminded readers she was married, and suggested something about that marriage (Why was she wearing the ring? Why was she twisting it?).

Mystery writers live and die by specific details. You can’t write “a car was parked outside” in a crime novel. You write “a rusted ’98 Chevy with a dented passenger door was parked outside” because that detail might be the clue that solves everything.

It turns out specificity breeds authenticity. And when readers trust that you’re paying attention to your world, they’ll follow you anywhere.

Whether you’re writing about love, space pirates, or a murder in a locked room, these investigative techniques will strengthen your story. Because every compelling narrative is a mystery. Your reader is asking: What will happen? Why did that happen? Who are these people, really?

Your job is to scatter the clues, earn the revelations, and make every sentence count.

Where to start: Pick one technique from this piece—just one—and apply it to whatever you’re working on right now. Plant a clue that will pay off later. Cut your favorite scene if it’s stalling momentum. Give a minor character a secret.

You never know when thinking like a detective will crack open the story you’ve been trying to tell. Now go investigate your own work. The mystery you solve might surprise you.

 

 

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Amethyst Drake has lived in Kentucky since she was six and is deeply invested in her Shelbyville community, where her mother’s family has roots. She is thrilled to be part of a warm and welcome group of writers in the Bluegrass Writer’s Coalition.

While Amethyst is known for crafting mystery novels that feature intricate character relationships and moral dilemmas, she also writes nonfiction under her real name, Amanda-Grace Schultz. She has been publishing nonfiction articles for over fifteen years, but her venture into fiction began in 2023, drawing inspiration from her love of classic detective dramas and mystery literature.

Find Amethyst’s latest novel at www.amethystdrake.com