Story Craft

Picture yourself in the woods. You’re alone. It’s night, and the towering trees all around you block out whatever light the moon and stars might offer. A cool breeze rustles the leaves on the forest floor. A chill runs up your spine. An involuntary shutter jolts your body. You reach out for the nearest tree, searching for something, anything, solid and sturdy while your eyes adjust to the pitch blackness. Suddenly, a twig snaps behind you. You whirl around, flailing your arms out in front of you in a blind panic. A hot breath tickles the nape of your neck as a coarse whisper slithers into your ear, “Well look what we have here.”

Fear. It’s the most primal, visceral emotion we can experience. It has the power to control, compel, and consume us. As a thriller author, I’m not just interested in what fear does to us physically, but more so how it seeps into our minds and imaginations, how it distorts our reality, and how it thrives on our deepest vulnerabilities. The craft of writing a gripping thriller depends not only on the twists and suspenseful moments I create, but on understanding and manipulating the psychology of fear.

Fear’s Ancient Roots

Fear is an ancient emotion. A survival mechanism that’s kept humans alive for millennia. The caveman who heard a rustle in the bushes and reacted with fear was the one who lived to see another day. This instinct is deeply embedded in the human psyche, forming the foundation of what I, as an author, tap into when crafting stories designed to unsettle and disturb.

Fear triggers the brain’s amygdala, igniting the “fight-flight-or freeze” response. Feel is fast, efficient, and operates at a subconscious level. But here’s where it gets interesting for a thriller writer—while fear may have evolved as a way to avoid danger, in today’s world, it’s often less about actual threats and more about perceived threats. The trick for an author is to manipulate these perceptions, creating suspense and unease in the absence of any real danger for the reader (you hope).

Manipulating Fear in Fiction

Fear, at its core, is about control—or more specifically, the loss of control. When I write, I try to create scenarios where my characters—and by extension, my readers—feel they’ve lost control of their environment, their lives, and even their minds. But it’s not enough to simply throw characters into terrifying situations. For fear to truly resonate, it must be personal.

A character’s fears should arise from their past, their desires, their vulnerabilities. In a well-constructed thriller, fear doesn’t just happen to the character—it emerges from them. It’s tied to their weaknesses, their regrets, and their unresolved conflicts. This makes the fear not just external but deeply internal, allowing the reader to identify with the character’s plight and to feel their fear as if it were their own.

The Power of Uncertainty

One of the most effective tools in a thriller writer’s arsenal is uncertainty. Fear thrives on the unknown. Was that twig snap a harmless animal or a sociopath on the hunt? Is the protagonist truly alone, or is someone watching them? Ambiguity and uncertainty leave space for the reader’s imagination to fill in the blanks, and often, what the reader imagines is far scarier than anything I could explicitly describe.

The human brain craves patterns and explanations, but in a well-crafted thriller, these are deliberately withheld. This taps into a universal psychological truth: we all fear the unknown. Whether it’s a mysterious stranger, an unsolved mystery, or the looming specter of death itself, the mind will always try to resolve uncertainty—and in doing so, it exposes our minds and our bodies to our own inner fears.

As a writer, I love playing with this concept. The moment something is explained, it becomes less frightening. That’s why I keep things just out of reach, allowing uncertainty, fear, to linger. The shadowy man who’s breath tickles the back of your neck in the middle of the dark woods is always more terrifying than the same man stumbling along your trail in broad daylight.

The Paradox of Fear: Why We Seek It Out

One might wonder, if fear is such an unpleasant emotion, why do we seek it out in fiction? Why are thrillers, horror films, and dark, unsettling stories so popular? Hell, fear is the whole reason the true crime genre has exploded. 

The answer lies in the paradox of fear. When we experience fear in a safe, controlled environment—like reading a book or watching a movie—it gives us a thrill without real-world consequences. It’s fear without danger. And we’re all junkies looking for the next fear fix.

This taps into another psychological truth: the thrill of overcoming fear. In real life, we avoid fear because it signals danger. But in fiction, we can confront our fears from a place of safety. We can face the darkness, the unknown, the threat of death, and come out unscathed. It allows us to engage with our anxieties in a way that’s not only thrilling but also empowering.

Manipulating Fear For Your Entertainment

As a thriller author, my job is to manipulate fear in ways that keep readers like you on the edge of your seat. By understanding the psychology of fear—its roots, its layers, its paradoxes—I can craft stories that resonate on a deeper, more primal level. Fear is not just about danger; it’s about vulnerability, uncertainty, and the loss of control. And when wielded correctly, fear can elevate a thriller from mere entertainment to something truly unforgettable.

How many times have you rooted for a story’s hero while secretly hoping something bad happens to them?

I find myself doing that a lot, and it happens much more often when that hero is too one-sided. You know what I mean, right? A one-sided character is too good. Their flaws either don’t exist or are so minor that they don’t really count as actual flaws. A one-sided hero might be worthy of winning in the end of the story but is rarely worthy of a place in your long-term memory. 

In short, these characters are forgettable. They’re not the kind of characters I want to read about or root for. And they’re definitely not the kind I want to write about. You think it’s hard to slog through a read with these weak characters? Try slogging through months of writing about them!

In the realm of storytelling, heroes have long been the epitome of virtue, embodying the highest ideals and moral principles. They are often portrayed as paragons of goodness, fighting evil and overcoming insurmountable odds. However, in the evolving landscape of literature, there is a growing recognition that heroes, like real people, are more complex and multifaceted. They possess flaws, make mistakes, and sometimes, they aren’t entirely good. 

Here’s how I go about crafting nuanced heroes who aren’t all good.

Understanding the Complexity of Heroes

Before delving into the process of creating imperfect heroes, it’s essential to understand why complexity matters. Real people are not purely good or evil; they are a blend of strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices. By mirroring this complexity in my characters, I make them more realistic and relatable.

Berney’s Rules for Creating Complex Heroes

1. If They’re Too Good, They’re Bad

Good guys with no bad tendencies are not realistic. More importantly, they’re no fun to root for. I want my readers to realize that the playing field isn’t just uneven, it’s a long-shot at best that my heroes will even survive, let alone win against whatever antagonist I pit them against. If my hero is brave, I might make him reckless. If she’s smart, I might make her arrogant. There needs to be a flaw that counters the hero’s strength. Something internal that is far more likely to derail their journey than some external person or force.

2. They Have to Have Seen Some Shit

I’ve made no secret about the fact that I’m an avid outliner. More than that, though, I dive deep into my characters before I write a single word about them or from them. How can I honestly portray these fictional friends of mine if I don’t know them inside and out? So I being with a deep backstory. I examine their character traits, their internal conflicts, their habits, their histories. I even write about how I want them to change during the course of the story I’m about to write. Only then, once I understand what makes them tick, do I begin to put them in harms way.

3. Grey Areas Are More Compelling Than White Hats

Real-life decisions are rarely black and white, and I make every attempt to ensure my heroes’ choices reflect this complexity. I put them into situations where the right course of action is unclear and/or uncomfortable. I force them to make difficult decisions. I never let them off easy. And why should I? That’d stunt their personal growth and create a rather boring and predictable story. These moral ambiguities highlight their flaws and humanize them for me and my readers.

4. They Should Struggle With Themselves as Much as They Do With the Antagonist

Internal conflict is a powerful tool for revealing a hero’s imperfections. That’s why my characters often grapple with their own values, desires, and fears. This struggle manifests in various ways, such as guilt over past actions, doubts about their mission, or conflicting loyalties. These internal battles make my heroes more relatable and provide opportunities for growth and further conflict. They also raise the stakes when it’s time for that final epic showdown with the antagonist.

5. They’re Gonna Need Some Help

I have to admit, so far in my literary journey as a novelist, I have found it more engaging to create intimate worlds with few characters. But that just means that these few characters take on even greater importance. My supporting characters often play a significant role in highlighting my hero’s flaws and complexities. In real life, nobody succeeds alone. And in fiction, it is rare that a hero doesn’t owe a debt of gratitude to someone (often many someones).

6. Winning is Boring

Let’s face it. Winning is boring. It’s the part that readers somewhat expect to happen. It’s the twists and turns and unexpected setbacks that keep the pulse racing as you turn the page. That means I have to hold off on the win as long as I can as a writer. I have to keep throwing obstacles in my heroes’ way. Honestly, as the writer, this is the most fun for me. I think as a reader it is as well. It’s not whether or not a hero will win in the end that keeps us reading. It’s how they’ll do it and what they’ll sacrifice to make it happen.

Imperfect Heroes Are The Perfect Protagonists 

Creating heroes who aren’t all good offers several benefits (for me as the writer, and for you as the reader). In the landscape of modern literature, heroes who aren’t all good resonate more deeply with readers. 

They reflect the complexities of real life, offering a richer and more authentic narrative experience. Often, in my genre at least, they aren’t always the most reliable narrators. But they’re always relatable. And that’s what makes you want to root for them, in spite (or because) of their flaws. 

Man, do I love a good thriller! There’s something about the tension, the deception, and the twisting nature of a well-written thriller that creates a surge of adrenaline mixed with anxiety and anticipation. I ask you, is there anything better than that?

Obviously, I don’t just enjoy reading thrillers, but they’re my writing genre of choice as well. And, of all the variations, my two favorites are the psychological thriller and the domestic thriller. For reference, “A Killer Secret” is a psychological thriller, and “The Fall of Faith” is a domestic thriller. 

Both sub genres offer intense, often unsettling narratives. I thought it might be enlightening to delve into the similarities and differences between these two thrilling story types.

Psychological thrillers: oh the mind games!

Psychological thrillers focus on characters’ mental and emotional states, often delving deep into the psyche to explore themes of identity, perception, and sanity. These stories often revolve around a protagonist who faces internal and external conflicts, with the narrative often blurring the line between reality and illusion. (Readers of “A Killer Secret” should find this description eerily familiar.)

Key characteristics of good psychological thrillers:

• Complex Characters
  Psychological thrillers feature protagonists and antagonists with intricate psychological profiles. These characters often grapple with mental health issues, past traumas, or moral dilemmas, adding layers of complexity to the story.

• Unreliable Narrators
  A hallmark of psychological thrillers is the good ’ol unreliable narrator. This fun narrative technique keeps readers guessing about the truth, creating a sense of suspense and uncertainty that helps drive the plot forward.

• Internal Conflict
  The tension in psychological thrillers often arises from characters’ internal struggles. The protagonist’s journey through their own mind becomes a central focus, with the plot unfolding through their perceptions and interpretations.

• Twists and Turns
  Psychological thrillers are known for their unexpected plot twists. This is precisely why I love writing them! These surprises challenge readers’ assumptions and keep them engaged, often leading to shocking revelations by the story’s end.

Domestic thrillers: you can cut the tension with a knife.

The suspense of the domestic thriller is grounded in the seemingly ordinary and even mundane aspects of domestic life. These stories often unfold within family units, neighborhoods, or close-knit communities, where the familiarity of the setting contrasts sharply with the tension and danger lurking beneath the surface. (Sure sounds like “The Fall of Faith” doesn’t it?)

Key characteristics of good domestic thrillers:

• Everyday Characters
  Protagonists and antagonists in domestic thrillers are often everyday people. Their ordinary lives are disrupted by extraordinary events. This sense of realism is what resonates most with me both as a reader and an author.

• Focus on Relationships
  Domestic thrillers emphasize the dynamics between characters, particularly within families or close friends. The exploration of trust, loyalty, and deception adds depth to the narrative, which makes you question the true nature of these relationships.

• Relatable Settings
  Domestic thrillers are typically set in environments that readers can find relatable, such as suburban homes, small towns, or family gatherings. This familiarity makes the unfolding drama and suspense more impactful.

• Interpersonal Conflict
  A domestic thriller’s tension arises from interpersonal relationships and conflicts. Secrets, lies, and betrayals within families or communities drive the plot, revealing the dark undercurrents of the characters’ lives.

Similarities abound between psychological and domestic thrillers.

If I’m being honest, I love how similar these great genres are. In fact, although I published “A Killer Secret” as a psychological thriller and “The Fall of Faith” as a domestic thriller, they’re more similar than different. Some of the most notable crossover characteristics include:

• Suspense and Tension
  Both genres excel at building suspense and tension. Whether it’s the protagonist’s internal struggle or the unraveling of family secrets, the narrative keeps readers on edge, eager to discover what happens next.

• Exploration of Human Nature
  Both genres delve into the complexities of human nature. Psychological thrillers explore the depths of the mind, while domestic thrillers examine the intricacies of relationships and social dynamics.

• Twists and Surprises
  Both genres rely on unexpected twists to keep readers engaged. These plot twists challenge readers’ assumptions and add layers of intrigue to the story. And have I mentioned these twists are my favorite part of planning a new novel?

Differences between psychological and domestic thrillers are very nuanced.

• Focus of Conflict
  Psychological thrillers primarily focus on internal conflicts and mental states, while domestic thrillers center around interpersonal conflicts within familiar settings.

• Setting
  The settings in psychological thrillers can vary widely, often reflecting the protagonist’s mental state, whereas domestic thrillers are typically set in relatable, everyday environments.

• Character Types
  Psychological thrillers feature characters with complex psychological profiles, while domestic thrillers often depict ordinary people whose lives are disrupted by extraordinary events.

Both psychological thrillers and domestic thrillers offer unique and captivating reading experiences. Whether you’re drawn to the mind-bending twists of a psychological thriller or the intense interpersonal drama of a domestic thriller, these genres continue to intrigue and entertain readers with their exploration of the darker aspects of human nature. I may not always write thrillers, but it will always be my favorite genre.

Thrillers are moneymakers. I’m not saying that if you write a thriller, you will end up rolling in dough until you’re one day discovered naked, hanging by a belt in your walk-in closet the size of a small house…oops. Sorry. I tend to get carried away and am easily distracted by killer tangents. Let me just write that down as a potential story idea, then I’ll get right back to you…

What I mean to say is that the thriller genre is generally the second most popular (after romance). So it’s only natural that thrillers take up an outsized space on our bookshelves and our video libraries. I thought it’d be fun to analyze the differences between thriller novels and thriller films. So if you’re ready, keep your guard up, and let’s begin.

Character Development

The thrill of reading a novel: 

One aspect I love about writing novels is my ability to delve deep into my characters’ psyches. I can explore (and share) their inner thoughts, fears, and motivations, which allows me to create a more profound connection between my readers and the protagonists (and honestly even the antagonist, since I like to blur the lines). This in-depth character development often enhances the suspense for the reader.

The thrill of watching a film: 

Even a great thriller movie can’t compete with the inner reflection provided in a book. Films are limited to a specific runtime (unless you’re Martin Scorsese), which can make it challenging to provide the same level of character depth. However, powerful performances by actors, combined with the visuals of the medium, bring the story to life in a way the book might not be able to, even in the hands of the most imaginative reader. Sometimes, less is more, and a well-acted facial expression or body language can convey a character’s fear or determination.

Pacing and Timing

The thrill of reading a novel: 

I spend a lot of time on the pacing of my novels. Doing this allows me to control the tension. I can let it build and build until the reader is pent up with nervous excitement, eagerly turning each page, wondering what will happen next. Then I’ll unleash it suddenly, using elements like sentence structure and chapter breaks to manipulate the reader’s emotional experience. This freedom allows novels to include intricate, multi-layered plots.

The thrill of watching a film: 

Movie directors can manipulate timing to build tension as well. They use various film techniques, such as editing, camera angles, and music, to control the pacing. In a thriller film, jump cuts, silence, or a sudden crescendo of music can create intense moments. The manipulation of sound, in particular, can have a powerful impact. Think about the last scary or suspenseful movie you watched. Would it have had the same impact on you if you watched it without the sound? Or if the music was absent?

Atmosphere and Setting

The thrill of reading a novel: 

Some authors paint vivid mental images of the world their characters inhabit. Others give you just a glimpse. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle. I like to give readers an idea of the environment, using descriptive language to set the scene and create the atmosphere, so they know why a character might react a certain way. Detailed descriptions allow readers to visualize the locations, and the use of symbolism and metaphor can add layers of meaning to each setting, drawing readers even deeper into the world I’ve made up for them.

The thrill of watching a film: 

Filmmakers have the luxury of employing visual and auditory elements to establish the atmosphere. Lighting, color schemes, and sound design play a significant role in creating the mood. A well-chosen location and set design can be just as integral to the storytelling as the characters themselves.

Suspenseful Plot Structure

The thrill of reading a novel: 

Novels have the luxury of revealing information in a non-linear fashion. We authors can use flashbacks, multiple narrators, and complex structures to keep readers guessing. This intricate plotting is a hallmark of many successful thriller novels.

The thrill of watching a film: 

Thriller films often rely on linear storytelling, making it challenging to play with time in the same way as novels. However, directors can use techniques like nonlinear editing or unreliable narration to introduce twists and surprises, providing a fresh take on familiar plots.

Unreliable Narrators

The thrill of reading a novel: 

I love a good unreliable narrator. If done well, a character’s unreliable nature is hinted at but never fully revealed until just the right moment. I think I love this trope because I feel like each of us, to some degree, is an unreliable narrator. We see the world how we want to see it. Our baggage brings certain things into focus and blurs others. And, let’s face it, we can’t be trusted. That’s what makes social gatherings so fun, or painful, depending on your point of view.

The thrill of watching a film: 

Films have the advantage in their ability to use visual and auditory cues to convey a character’s unreliability. Camera angles, editing, and soundtrack choices can all hint at a character’s instability or hidden agenda. Or maybe not. Ever see “The Usual Suspects”? This movie is a master class in creating a believable character only to shatter the illusion at the very end of the movie. Oh man, it’s so good. 

So which is better? I say why choose!

Thriller novels and films each offer unique storytelling techniques that cater to their respective strengths. If you want to be immersed in a world, watching it come to life from the shadows of your mind’s eye, pick up a thriller novel. You’ll experience deep character exploration, intricate plotting, and unlimited internal monologue. 

If you want an explosive, visceral impact of realistic action, human behavior and relatable drama, put on a thriller movie. You’ll be surrounded by visual and auditory cues, pacing, and the immediacy of performances that convey suspense and tension.

Tell me. Which do you prefer? Do you have a favorite thriller author? A director you always turn to when you want a good thrill?

I don’t believe any of us, real or fictional, is born a hero. Heroes are made. As a thriller author, I’ve spent countless hours crafting stories filled with suspense, unreliable narrators and characters who aren’t perfect heroes or villains. In my novels, everyone, even the antagonist, believes they are the hero. And, from a certain perspective, perhaps they are. For aren’t each of us the lead (the hero) in our own story?

My heroes (and even those would-be heroes and villains) endure trials and tribulations that test their limits, push them to the brink of failure and show them (and the reader) whether they deserve the mantle of hero. Through it all, authentic heroes emerge stronger and wiser, though they are almost always a little (or a lot) worse or wear.

So why do I force my characters to hurt to be heroes? Am I just sadistic? Am I acting out on fictional people the way I wish I could with real folks? No. my desire to make my characters earn their hero status comes from my study and love of the hero’s journey and the three-act structure of storytelling.

Act One: The Call to Action

The traditional hero’s journey begins with a reluctant protagonist. My heroes aren’t necessarily reluctant so much as they are just everyday people. I like to write about the everyman and everywoman. People who could be your neighbor, your family member, even you. They live a mundane life, blissfully unaware of the challenges that await them at my whim. 

In my stories, the hero is typically hesitant, even resistant, to join the action and embrace their newfound role. It’s not that they’re happy with their current life, it’s just that, like most of us, they’re risk averse. It’s comfortable to stay where you are. To live invisibly rather than die fantastically. For me, this reluctance is crucial because it reflects the reality that nobody is born a hero. 

Think about your favorite thriller novel or movie. Did the hero start off as a fearless, indomitable force? Not usually. They were often just like you and me—flawed, vulnerable, and unprepared for the trials ahead. It’s through the challenges and hardships they face that they begin their transformation. And let’s be honest, if they were ready, it’d be a pretty boring story.

Act Two: Trial by Fire

As our hero embarks on their journey through the second act, they encounter various trials and tribulations flung at them directly from the darkest crevasses of my imagination. This is where the hero’s pain truly begins. In my novels, this phase can be filled with life-threatening situations, moral dilemmas, personal sacrifices or other physical and/or emotional pain. I’ll be honest, this is my favorite act to write. It’s also the hardest on me.

A hero must confront their deepest fears, both external and internal. They may lose friends, suffer physical and emotional wounds, and question their own abilities. The more I can make them suffer, the more satisfying the ending seems once they’ve made it through (assuming they do). It’s during these moments of despair and suffering that a character transforms into a genuine hero (albeit still a flawed one).

I like to think that this part of the hero’s journey mirrors our real-life experiences — just to the extreme, of course, to maximize your reading enjoyment. We don’t become our best selves by coasting through life. It’s the pain and challenges we encounter that shape us, forcing us to grow and evolve. 

Act Three: The Return

The final act is traditionally referred to as “The Return.” My hero’s journeys aren’t as literal, so there’s not really a triumphant return to the Shire like in The Hobbit. But the hero does generally emerge from all the craziness I’ve thrown at them transformed. If I’ve done my job, they’ve grown as a person and their life has been changed dramatically. They are no longer the same person they were when the reader first encountered them in Act One. 

This transformation is a crucial element of storytelling because it resonates with our innate desire for personal growth and transformation. We admire characters who overcome adversity because we see a reflection of our own potential within them. We realize that if they can become heroes, so can we.

And, let’s be honest, a story that goes nowhere and ends where it began would be a boring read. 

Embracing the Journey

As a thriller author, I believe in the power of storytelling to inspire and entertain. The hero’s journey and the three-act structure provide a blueprint for crafting compelling narratives that resonate with readers. But beyond the realm of fiction, these frameworks offer valuable life lessons.

In our own lives, we must embrace the hero’s journey. We must recognize we are not born heroes. Nobody is. Not even history’s biggest heroes. No. We become heroes through our willingness to face adversity, endure pain, and emerge stronger on the other side. Just like the heroes in my novels, we can transform ourselves and inspire others through our journeys.

So, the next time you pick up a thriller and delight in the hero’s pain and suffering, remember their journey reflects the universal truth that to be a hero, you have to hurt. But in that pain lies the opportunity for growth, transformation, and the chance to inspire others.

Dear fellow thrill-seeker,

There’s a particular kind of joy that courses through my veins as a thriller author, and it’s not just from the caffeine-fueled writing marathons or the late-night brainstorming sessions. No, it’s the thrill of surprising you, my reader, with twists you never saw coming. In this blog post, I want to peel back the curtain and share with you the secrets behind creating those spine-tingling, hair-raising moments that keep you glued to the page.

1. I Know My Characters Inside and Out

Creating unexpected twists starts with knowing my characters as if they were real people. And, for me, they are real as I’m immersed in telling their story. The more intimately I understand their motivations, fears, and secrets, the better equipped I am to orchestrate those mind-bending plot twists you’ve come to expect from my stories. I dive deep into my characters’ psyche, uncover their hidden desires, and exploit their vulnerabilities. 

2. I Foreshadow with a Light Touch

A well-executed twist doesn’t come out of nowhere. It should be built upon a foundation of subtle hints and foreshadowing. Dropping breadcrumbs along the way can make the twist feel organic and earned, rather than forced. And boy do I enjoy leaving hints that are subtle but memorable. I want you to  think, “How did I miss that?” when the twist is revealed, not “This came out of left field.”

3. I Subvert Genre Expectations

Like any genre of fiction, thrillers come with established conventions and tropes. I don’t totally ignore these, but I do use these expectations to my advantage by subverting them. I want to challenge your assumptions and lead you down unexpected avenues. It’s the road less traveled that often holds the most surprising revelations.

4. I Love a Good Unreliable Narrator

One of the most powerful tools in a thriller writer’s arsenal is the unreliable narrator. And why shouldn’t it be? We humans are not always reliable. We see things through our unique lens and like to paint ourselves as more innocent than we are. Isn’t it silly then that we, as readers, tend to trust the protagonist’s perspective? My characters keep their secrets and biases to them selves for as long as they can. It’s this technique that helps me shatter your assumptions and leave you questioning everything you thought you knew.

5. I Never Forget That Timing is Everything

The timing of a story twist can significantly impact its effectiveness. For this reason, I delay the revelation of a critical twist until the last possible moment, either when tension is at its peak or when the reader thinks things are just starting to settle down. This can create an explosive and unforgettable moment that, I hope, leaves you breathless and stays with you long after you’ve finished the story.

6. I Take You on an Emotional Rollercoaster 

The best twists not only shock but also resonate emotionally with you. I start by thinking about how the twist affects my characters on a personal level. Does it challenge their beliefs, force them to confront their past, or reveal their true selves? An emotionally charged twist can be the most unforgettable.

7. I Stay True to My Story

While it’s tempting to shoehorn in twists for the sake of shock value, I try to remember that they must serve my story’s overarching themes and character arcs. A twist that feels forced or out of place can disrupt the narrative flow. It’s my goal to make sure my surprises aren’t just clever but also integral to the story I’m telling.

In conclusion, the art of surprising, you, the reader with unexpected twists is a delicate dance of psychology, narrative craftsmanship, and emotional resonance. It’s about crafting a story you’ll hopefully never forget, leaving you eagerly turning pages late into the night until that final, satisfying send off.

Happy reading (well, not exactly happy), and may my twists be as unforgettable as the stories they inhabit.

Yours in suspense,

Jeff Berney