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This practical framework shows you 9 steps for line editing scenes in crime and thriller fiction so that every sentence pulls its weight and delivers the appropriate level of tension.
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Why your novel’s not gripping the reader
If you feel like your novel’s not gripping the reader, it’s all too easy to blame something going on at story level. Perhaps it’s not twisty enough. Maybe the plot’s too thin. Perhaps the structure’s not balanced and the prose feels saggy in the middle of the book.
Before you rework the whole thing, take a step back and ask yourself if it’s the line work. The reason I say that is because line editing for crime fiction and thrillers takes place within the same foundational framework as any other genre. However, there’s an additional matter that needs engineering at line level: tension. That tension can’t just live at the macro level – in the story. It has to have a home in the sentences too. What is line editing?
Structural editing is SHAPING work. It examines big-picture elements like plot, pacing, structure, character arcs and coherence. Editors focus on improving the clarity and impact of the whole story.
Proofreading is QUALITY CONTROL work. It focuses on surface errors, correcting spelling, grammar, punctuation, formatting and consistency issues to ensure the novel’s ready for publication. Line editing is EXPRESSION work. It sits in between the structural and proofreading stages, and considers what the scene is trying to do – whether that’s creating drama, building tension, revealing character, conveying information – and then making stylistic improvements to ensure the language actually achieves that. Use the framework below to check each scene and make sure that every sentence is pulling its weight. 1. Check for clarity
The first step is to check for clarity. Here, you’re making sure that:
Just because a line is lean doesn’t mean it needs to be boring. Sometimes writers need to tell it like it is and give the reader the cleanest pathway through so that they can live in the moment of the action rather than having to untangle it. This is particularly important in high-stakes situations, where the clock is ticking or a character’s in pursuit or being pursued. Examples
In the edited version, clarity has been improved by following a cleaner telling of the order of play: time (the watch), movement (hurried) and path (direction). I’ve also used more precise verbs ('checked' and 'hurried') to show how the character’s actions are controlled. This means we can ditch the adverbs ('urgently' and 'briefly') because those verbs do the heavy-lifting. I’ve also suggested free indirect speech ('What if the … no matter'). That’s more concise and takes us into the character’s headspace without the need for cluttering filter words ('wondered' and 'realized'). Key principle: Keep tension intact my ensuring your reader doesn’t have to stop and re-read a sentence. 2. Manage narrative velocity with sentence length
Narrative velocity is the speed at which the reader perceives events taking place in a story. At scene level, it’s shaped by sentence structure, pacing and how quickly information and action are delivered.
Just because you’re writing crime fiction or a thriller doesn’t mean the pace has to rocket in every sentence. Instead, make sure it’s controlled in a way that shows rather than tells the perceived speed. How sentence length affects perceived speed As a general rule, long sentences tend to slow the pace of a scene, while short sentences accelerate it. There’s space for both, of course, so think about what’s happening in your scene in terms of stakes. Is danger increasing? Is time running out? Is something shocking revealed. Try shortening your sentences in those cases. For extra impact, use sentence fragments – though sparingly, because then the reader won’t notice that you’re doing it, only how it makes them feel. If, however, the scene is more reflective – perhaps a law-enforcement officer is tyring to make sense of some inconsistent evidence, or they’re remembering a former case – a longer sentence will mirror the more stretched-out thought process. Example
Notice how in the example above, the leading longer sentences elongate the perceived time, reflecting the tedious graft our character’s putting in. Then, as something unexpected is discovered, shorter sentences and fragments make the prose snappier. This truncates the moment into something immediate and jarring.
This mirrors real-life human experience. When we’re under pressure we tend to think in bursts, whereas when we’re in a safe, calm space we have more time for reflection. By controlling the length of a sentence in prose we can mirror that tension, or the lack of it. Key principle: Mix up sentence length so that you’re reflecting mood. 3. Build micro-tension with rhythmic tools
Rhythm determines how quickly a reader moves through a scene. Faster rhythms can convey urgency, action, fear, anger and shock. Slower rhythms can convey sadness, calm, thoughtfulness and introspection. Interruptions to rhythm force the reader to pay attention.
We’ve already looked at how sentence length affects pacing, so here are five more rhythmic devices that you can call on at line editing stage to create or ease tension. Think about what’s happening in the scene and what the character’s feeling, then consider which tool might be most effective:
Examples In all five examples below, there are different levels of micro-tension in play, and the rhythmic tools help mirror the emotional pressure experienced by the characters.
The repetition feels weighty and emphasizes the character’s desperate longing and pressure he’s feeling.
The omission of conjunctions in the asyndeton example allows the list to flow rapidly, conveying urgency.
Postponing who’s in the chair builds suspense.
The succession of conjunctions mirrors the character’s exhausting pursuit.
Short one-line paragraph: The man in the photo was him.
By giving this pithy one-liner its own space, the revelation lands hard.
Key principle: Rhythmic tools help readers tap into character experience viscerally, but they need to be used judiciously so that that they don’t overshadow the story.
4. Regulate what the reader knows, and when
When there’s a gap between what’s happening and what the reader understands about it, you create suspense. It’s your chance to make them wait and wonder what’s going to happen – to tease them so that their anticipation builds! And all the while, tension builds.
If a particular scene has important information or a surprise in it, even a small one, look for line editing opportunities to delay the reveal by a line or two. If you have several revelations in your scene, think about how you can break them up so they land in stages. Example
In the example above, the tension builds as Marv grapples with his conundrum, and the reader isn’t any the wiser. We uncover the reveal at the same time as him.
I’ve kept that reveal short, concrete and slightly incomplete to maximise impact. This means the reader has to do some of the work in that moment. Further revelation and explanation can come later. 5. Control narrative point of view
What the reader knows, or doesn’t know, is key, so review the scene to check that you’ve reinforced the limits of your chosen narrative point-of-view style.
If you’ve used a limited or subjective viewpoint, which is common in crime fiction and thrillers, check that:
Examples (Arjun is the perspective character)
In the first example, Arjun can’t know that a person is behind him, never mind one holding a gun, precisely because this action is happening behind him. In the revised version, he senses movement, but that’s all. The reader knows only what the character knows, and if Arjun’s uncertain, so are we. That delay in information adds to the tension. Key principle: Limit the information reported in the narrative to what the perspective character can experience. 6. Strengthen your verbs
If you want to maximise tension, looking at your verbs is a great place to start. Small tweaks can make a big difference to whether an action feels like it’s gentler and happening at arm’s length, or strong and immediate.
Generally speaking, weak verbs dilute tension, while stronger ones amplify it, so line edit in a way that focuses the reader’s attention sharply on what’s being done. Example Imagine an escape scene and take a look at the following two options:
Nothing’s technically wrong with the first version, but the action feels expository. Note the verb – ‘was running’. It’s the past continuous tense, or action in progress. That’s grammatically unproblematic but it’s somewhat soft. This is exacerbated by the addition of a clause that reminds the reader what they already know given that this is an escape scene. The second version seeks to draw the reader into the moment. I’ve suggested a more forceful verb – ‘sprinted’. Using the simple past tense conveys urgency. I’ve also replaced the expository ‘trying to get away’ with an additional precise verb – ‘skidded’. Now we leave the reader to join up the dots and instead of telling them what the intention is – to escape – we focus on what the character’s doing right now. It’s a small change, but one that transforms the energy in the scene and makes it feel more tense. Key principle: If a verb has scaffolding around it – ‘was [verb]ing’, ‘began to [verb]’, ‘seemed to [verb]’ – experiment with stripping it down so it’s more precise and conveys a sense of impact rather than effort. 7. Sharpen dialogue with subtext
Real-life speech is often filled with stuff that comes out of social norms (eg saying hello and goodbye, offering drinks, talking about the weather).
However, including this in your crime fiction or thriller risks ripping the tension out of a scene because it’s not what the reader’s interested in. When you’re line editing, look for opportunities to:
Example: Authentic but distracting
Example: Focused and tension-filled
The first version feels real enough, but it's rather and expository. There’s no tension between the two speakers.
In the second version, the filler is gone, and one of the characters is cagey, then interruptive when their colleague goes on the defence. The subtext – that one of them missed something – is shown rather than told. Key principle: Dialogue should do triple duty – reveal character (voice), show the mood (the subtext of the conversation), and deliver intent (so that the story advances). 8. Ensure description matches the stakes
Line editing is also the time to consider whether what the stakes are in a scene. The reader should never forget what’s at risk so check that characters’ actions and reactions match the situation.
Examples of high stakes could include:
In these situations, line edit to ensure your description is targeted and precise. That way, the information conveyed is vivid but delivered fast, creating more immediate pressure-based tension. Examples of low stakes could include:
In these situations, the description can more detailed and the pace slower. You can still deliver tension, but it’s more stretched out because there’s no imminent threat. Examples
In the high-stakes example, the description is more focused on the immediate movement, which inflates a sense of urgency. Here, the prose creates a mood that’s abrupt and determined. In the low-stakes example, the character is able to move in a more procedural fashion, and take in their surroundings and notice the details. Here, the prose describes a drab, neglected space, and creates a bleak and institutional mood. Key principle: Ensure the level of detail given to the reader reflects the character’s ability to process it in any given situation. 9. Review your story beginnings and chapter endings
A super first line in a novel makes readers ask questions and creates a sense of intrigue that draws the reader in. Think of it as a tension pull.
A powerful closing line in a chapter withholds just enough resolution or adds a twist, which creates momentum. This is the tension push – the encouragement to turn the page and read the next chapter. Examples: Opening lines that pull readers into a novel
Those four novel opening lines provide mystery, imbalance and unanswered implication. Rather than explaining they disturb the equilibrium and force the reader to ask questions. Examples: Closing lines that push readers onto the next chapter
Those for chapter closing lines function as momentum triggers. Each one either opens a new question, shifts the reader’s perception or interrupts their certainty. Key principle: Start the book with something that disrupts normal expectations of situation, logic or truth. End a chapter at a moment where certainty shifts. Summing up
Every story needs to have a great plot – a structured sequence of events where characters pursue goals, face obstacles and experience change through conflict and resolution. Getting that right is structural or developmental editing work – the shaping stage.
But every novel needs to work at line level too, because that expression work is what will keep readers interested and focused, rather than skimming. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
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Learn how to compress your thrillers and crime fiction writing with strong verbs that convey motion, emotion and pace.
What is a verb?
A verb is a word that describes an action or a state of being. For example:
Strong and weak verbs
There are different ways of classifying verbs from a grammatical point of view, but this article uses the terms ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ to describe stylistic impact.
Strong verbs Strong verbs carry the action all by themselves without needing help from other words to make the sentence convey energy and momentum. A precise, vivid verb can replace a string of modifiers. It makes a line faster and sharper, and can trigger a sense of immediacy, danger, tension or suspense in the reader. Weak verbs Weak verbs are vaguer or more generalized, and often rely on help from additional description to explain the action. They tend to slow the pace down. There’s room for both There’s no such thing as ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ when it comes to writing. Strong and weak verbs both have their place. Instead, the writer can make a choice based on the mood they want to create in the scene and how they want the reader to feel in that moment. A comparison of strong and weak verbs
Take a look at the following comparative examples of phrases. They show how a carefully placed strong verb can show rather than tell us something. For example:
In the first sentence, there’s a verbal phrase in play – ‘tried to pull open’. Those four words create a distance between the character and what they’re doing. We focus on the ‘trying’ rather than on the connection between the character’s hands and the drawer. The pace feels gentler, slower, less immediate.
By replacing that verbal phrase with a single strong verb – ‘yanked’ – the action is more immediate. But there’s emotion being conveyed in that action too:
And those emotional undercurrents imply that the character is under pressure, perhaps feeling frustrated, angry or fearful (depending on the scene’s context). In other words, the stronger verb shows the character’s effort through action rather than explanation.
Create immediacy by adjusting filler verbs
Look out for filler verbs in your crime and thriller writing. These act more like padding than action, and sit in the sentence without contributing much.
Common examples include: was, were, seemed, appeared, began, trying and started. These constructions add extra words without adding tension. Writers can create momentum in action scenes by making just small alterations. Here, we’re not talking about changing the verb to a different one, but modifying what we’ve got. Take a look at these examples:
In each of the three pairs above, removal of the filler verb in favour of a tighter revision makes the action feel as if it’s happening now. For the reader, that’s a more immersive experience.
Create impact by interrogating adverbs
Sometimes a writer will use adverbs to intensify the emotion or tension in a sentence.
Adverbs are words that describe or modify verbs (in the same way that adjectives describe or modify nouns). In these next examples, most of the verbs are weak, and it’s the adverb that’s doing the heavy lifting.
I’d never suggest obliterating every single adverb or adverbial phrase from a piece of prose – regardless of what genre the author’s writing in – but I do think robust editing requires us to consider whether those adverbs are creating momentum and energy.
This is particularly important in dramatic scenes, of which there are often plenty in crime fiction, mysteries and thrillers. We want the reader in the moment with the perspective character’s movement, not fighting with the words that describe it. Since the verb is where the action actually happens, it makes sense to interrogate whether readers are being distracted from it. In the examples above, the writer has the opportunity to consider whether a stronger verb might offer precision that shows what the adverb is telling – which means they can ditch the adverb. Here’s what that revision might look like when we use stronger verbs that combine movement and emotion:
Now the sentences are tighter and more engaging.
Making movement thrilling with strong verbs
Crime fiction and thrillers rely on movement – there might be pursuits, fights, discoveries and escapes. And in all those cases, verbs need to carry that movement in a way that captures emotion.
Instead of weaker neutral verbs like went, looked or moved, think about whether verbs that imply force, violence, emotional state or speed might be more effective. Compare the following:
Careful choices allow writers (or their editors) to capture an entire mood in a single verb.
Practise control with a verb-intensity ladder
One way to hone your verb-choosing skills is to build intensity ladders. These help you see how different words, which mean a similar thing, affect the emotional intensity and urgency of a scene.
To be clear, this isn’t about ranking verbs in order of what’s right or wrong or good or bad, but about controlling the impact you want to have on the reader. Here’s an example where the intensity level moves from calm to extreme. The action we’re considering involves the opening of a door.
Door-opening intensity ladder
Here’s another example. This time the action involves the act of moving away from a situation.
Moving-away intensity ladder
When you pick verbs that are lower in intensity, the tension will be quieter and the pace slower. When you choose verbs that are higher in intensity, the tension will be more acute and the pace faster.
What works best in any particular scene will depend on the context, but the point is that just one verb helps you turn up or turn down the dial and control motion, emotion and pace. A tip for editing verbs
If you’re a writer who’s self-editing, or a professional editor providing support for an author, try this exercise. Ask yourself:
Summing up
When looking at word choices in crime fiction and thriller writing, think about which verbs act as controlled triggers for motion, emotion and pace.
The power lies in choosing something that already carries the meaning, because then there’s no need to add adverbials and filler. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
If you’re a UK-based freelance editor or proofreader who still hasn’t decided how to deal with Making Tax Digital, here’s how one of your colleagues solved the problem by using a bridging service.
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A caveat
I’m a professional editorial business owner, not a tax expert. The information I’ve provided below is what I’ve picked up on my MTD journey, and I've done my best to ensure it’s correct at the time of writing (April 2026).
If you’re in any doubt about your own tax position, speak to an accountant. There’s lots of information at GOV.UK too. What is Making Tax Digital?
Making Tax Digital (MTD) is the UK government’s attempt to drag tax reporting out of spreadsheets and shoeboxes and into the twenty-first century.
MTD means we, as UK-based sole traders, have to keep digital records and file updates using compatible software several times a year. The idea is to make things more accurate, reduce errors and cut down on last-minute annual panics. Personally, I wasn’t panicked by the traditional system. And I was more than happy managing my finances in a spreadsheet … And with submitting my tax return via HM Revenue & Customs (HMRC)’s online self-assessment gateway … And with doing that just once a year … And at zero cost to me. I’m starting to sound like a grouch, but I promise I’ll be sharing the low-cost solution I found below! When does MTD start?
MTD is already up and running for self-employed people who are earning over a particular income threshold. Those who don’t meet that threshold will have a year’s grace.
Still, you might qualify to join the scheme early, and that could be a good option for anyone wanting to get to grips with it ahead of time so there’s no last-minute rush. How often do we have to file with MTD?
With MTD we have to submit what HMRC calls quarterly updates.
The key thing we all need to bear in mind is that these updates are cumulative. We’re not doing four separate mini-returns. Think of it as a rolling picture that builds across the year. If your financial year starts on 6 April, the deadlines will be as follows:
At the end of the year, there's an End of Period Statement (EOPS) that, says HMRC, ‘confirms the figures for the full year and allows accounting adjustments such as capital allowances or basis period adjustments’. Then there’s the final declaration (which replaces the self-assessment tax return), and that’s due by 31 January following the end of the tax year. What all this means is that there are way more touchpoints but no change to when your financial year starts or when the final bill gets sorted. What is a bridging service?
Given that I was already perfectly happy with using a spreadsheet, then submitting my tax returns digitally, and not spending a bean in the process, I absolutely didn’t want to fork out for an accountant four times a year or expensive software.
For that reason, last year I started exploring affordable bridging services. A bridging service for MTD acts a bit like a translator between your existing records and HMRC’s systems. If, like me, you’re still recording your income and expenses in spreadsheets, those spreadsheets aren’t set up to talk directly to HMRC. That’s where bridging software comes in. It bridges the gap by taking the figures from your spreadsheet and submitting them to HMRC in the right digital format. And that allows you to stay compliant with MTD without ditching the way you already work. In practice, it means:
So, if you’re happy with spreadsheets, like I am, and don’t want to move to full accounting services just yet (or ever!), a bridging service can be a handy halfway house. Why I chose 123sheets
My research led me to sign up with 123sheets. Here's why I chose them:
To be clear, there’s no financial benefit for me by telling you about this company. I’m simply sharing the choice I made with you, and the reasons behind it, so that anyone who’s feeling a bit flummoxed, and who’s a spreadsheet user like me, might feel a bit more reassured that there are user-friendly options out there. There’ll be plenty of other UK-based professionals in our industry who've already opted (or will opt) for other methods with different providers. Preparation tips for using bridging services
Here are some tips to help you prepare if you decide to go down the bridging-software route.
Choose a good-fit provider
Prep your spreadsheet
Sign up for MTD
Shift your mindset
Wrapping up
Change can be hard for busy business owners, especially when we can’t immediately see how the outcomes benefit us. That’s how MTD is making a lot of self-employed people feel.
However, by getting organised, and selecting tools and providers who can help us keep things ticking over smoothly, I'm confident that MTD can be just another a bit of admin rather than a headache. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn how to manage scope creep and set healthy boundaries in your editing and proofreading work.
Summary of Episode 154
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'Vivacity’ by Kevin MacLeod
Explore seven effective types of thriller opening lines, and how published novelists are using them to convince their audiences to keep on reading.
In this article
The recognizable patterns in thriller opening lines
The opening line of a thriller has a difficult job. In a single sentence it must capture attention and convince readers that the story is worth their time.
While great first lines vary in style, there are some recognizable patterns. Understanding these can help writers craft first sentences that hook readers immediately. Below we’ll look at seven types of thriller opening lines – each illustrated with examples from published novels – and examine why they work and what writers can learn from them. What these opening lines have in common
Despite their differences, superb thriller first lines usually share several notable qualities:
1. First-line focus on a pursuit
Some thrillers begin with motion already underway: someone is chasing, escaping or searching.
Example: The Gunslinger, Stephen King (Hodder Paperback edition, 2003)
Why it works
Readers are thrust straight into the middle of a high-stakes chase. In a single line, we sense the tension: one character fleeing, another in pursuit. The sentence immediately conveys motion, suspense and intrigue, and prompts questions like: Who are these figures and what is at stake? NOTABLE QUALITIES: Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Momentum Lesson for writers Movement signals urgency. Starting with that signals that the story is already underway and that the reader has arrived in the middle of something important. 2. First-line focus on psychological mindset
These first lines hook readers by revealing a shocking fact, personal truth or secret. They often feel rather confessional create powerful psychological intrigue because they invite readers into a character’s headspace.
Example 1: Dark Places, Gillian Flynn (Phoenix edition, 2010)
Why it works
The opening plunges readers into the narrator’s psyche, exposing an unsettling inner darkness before any plot events occur. This early insight builds psychological tension, making us question the narrator’s reliability and wonder how their mindset will shape the story. NOTABLE QUALITIES: Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Voice Example 2: The Martian, Andy Weir (Del Rey edition, 2014)
Why it works
In those first four words, the narrator signals that disaster has struck. The candid, no-nonsense tone generates immediate suspense, encouraging readers to ask: What has happened? How will the character cope? NOTABLE QUALITIES: Stakes | Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Voice Lesson for writers Confessional first lines can draw readers directly into a character’s predicament or provide striking psychological insight in just a few words. These two examples are also good reminders that a strong narrative voice can be just as compelling as action or a crime. 3. First-line focus on a shocking statement
A bold or disturbing statement can grab readers immediately, forcing them to confront moral tension or danger.
Example: I Will Find You, Harlan Coben (Penguin edition, 2023)
Why it works
A single, startling sentence conveys both shock and intrigue. It instantly raises questions and emotional stakes. Readers want to understand the circumstances that led the narrator, speaking directly to us, to this moment. NOTABLE QUALITIES: Stakes | Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Voice | Momentum Lesson for writers A single unexpected statement can create a powerful hook if it suggests a deeper story. 5. First-line focus on a crime or transgression
Some thrillers’ opening lines reveal a crime or transgression that has already occurred or is in progress.
Example: Paradise, Toni Morrison (Vintage edition, 1999)
Why it works
The sentence is shocking, violent and blunt, though we’re not given any context. That ambiguity forces readers to ask questions: Who are ‘they’? Who are the other girls that it’s implied are also going to be shot? Why have these girls been targeted? NOTABLE QUALITIES: Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Momentum Lesson for writers Introducing the crime early tells readers exactly what kind of story they’re entering. 6. First-line focus on the environment
Some thrillers begin by establishing an unsettling atmosphere.
Example 1: Neuromancer, William Gibson (Gateway edition, 2016)
Why it works
This line uses a striking image to establish a bleak, dystopian environment. It signals that the world of the story may feel strange or unsettling. NOTABLE QUALITIES: Tension or conflict | Voice Example 2: The Day of the Jackal, Frederick Forsyth (Arrow edition, 2011)
Why it works
This opening sentence starts with information about the weather and the time. It could have been dull, but the author uses it as an artful anchor for the life‑or‑death clause that follows. The stark, cold setting mirrors the flat, cold voice, as if the narrator has accepted the inevitability of the execution. NOTABLE QUALITIES: Stakes | Tension or conflict | Voice Lesson for writers A vivid or unusual image can establish tone while creating curiosity about the setting. And environmental information can be highly effective as long as it’s used to amplify a character’s mood. 7. First-line focus on foreboding
This type of opening signals that something terrible has already happened, or is about to happen.
Example 1: Everybody Knows, Jordan Harper (Faber & Faber edition, 2023)
Why it works
In just three stark words, this first line establishes a vivid, ominous setting that suggests chaos and danger. Something catastrophic is happening in a familiar city, and readers want to know what caused it and what the consequences will be. NOTABLE QUALITIES: Stakes | Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Momentum Example 2: Gone Before Goodbye, Harlan Coben and Reese Witherspoon (Penguin, 2026)
Why it works
In just five words, this line creates immediate tension. By emphasizing what the narrator doesn’t hear, it heightens the sense of unseen danger. The absence of sound signals that something is amiss, prompting readers to ask: What’s happening, and what threat lurks nearby? NOTABLE QUALITIES: Curiosity | Tension or conflict | Momentum Lesson for writers Opening lines that imply catastrophe, danger or abnormality can be incredibly effective. By hinting that something is wrong, rather than explaining it immediately, activate the reader’s curiosity and tension, and compel them to keep going. Summing up
A thriller’s first line doesn’t have to feature explosions or violence. What matters is that it avoids the mundane.
That means encouraging questions and making the reader feel something – for example shock, surprise, disgust, fear, confusion – so that they want to continue beyond the opening sentence and into the rest of the story. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Explore 10 weak thriller opening lines and learn how to turn them into compelling hooks that grab the reader, set the tone and hint at something that piques their curiosity.
The weight carried by the opening line
The opening line of a mystery or thriller carries an enormous amount of weight. In just a few words, it has to hook the reader, set the tone and indicate a problem or predicament that will pique the reader’s interest.
Manuscripts with first lines that feature routine description, backstory or everyday dialogue can feel flat rather than gripping. In this article, we’ll look at 10 examples of weak first lines, explain why they don’t work, and show how small revisions can turn them into compelling hooks. If you’re writing a mystery, crime novel or psychological thriller, these examples will help you craft a first sentence that immediately grabs readers … and keeps them wanting to read. Example 1: Generic description
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
The description is generic and objective. There’s no character, no tension and no intrigue. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
The objectivity remains, but now the reader is immediately introduced to a crime – one that makes us ask questions: Whose body? How did they die? And by whose hand? Example 2: Routine activity
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
While there’s a human being involved in this line, Harris’s actions are mundane. The sentence is front loaded with activity related to where he sits. Even though a murder weapon is mentioned, that’s not particularly interesting given the detective’s job. There’s no reason for us to do anything with this line than skim over it. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
Now there’s a conundrum for us to consider – the familiarity of the weapon. This creates a pressure point for Harris, and a mystery that readers want an explanation for. Example 3: Focus on backstory
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
The focus here is on the past rather than the present, and that backstory is generalised and mundane. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
Now there’s momentum. The word ‘first’ introduces foreshadowing – readers will assume that there’s more than one dead body. The mention of proximity to a named character forces us to wonder about her role: Is Martha a potential victim, too, or is she a transgressor? Example 4: No intrigue
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
So what? the reader might think. Waking up early in the morning is not intriguing. It’s commonplace. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
Now there’s immediate tension. The word ‘someone’ implies that another person entering the house is unexpected. And yet ‘unlocking’ suggests they have a key. That leads to readers asking questions: Who’s in his space? Should they be there? Is John in danger? Example 5: Vague observation
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
This line tells us readers nothing about why they should care about this peaceful place, nor why they should carry on reading about it. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
The revised line is still told from an objective perspective, and the peacefulness has been left intact. However, that information is now sharply juxtaposed with a shocking discovery. Using contrast helps to create surprise and intrigue. Example 6: Dull dialogue
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
This is mundane speech – the kind of thing millions of people say to each other at times and spaces across the entire planet. It won’t compel a reader to continue. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
Now we have an instant mystery. Readers will wonder what the ‘it’ is that Tom didn’t do, and they’ll want to know why he’s doubting himself. Example 7: Tensionless thoughts
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
There’s no pressure point in this character thought. It’s skimmable information. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
Now we understand the possible emotional stakes in play. Maybe this information comes as a horrific shock to Emily. Or maybe it will be revealed that she killed him. It actually doesn’t matter. All that’s important is that this is personal, and the reader will be invested in understanding why. Example 8: Boring environment
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
The description feels flat and doesn’t convey any personality or tension. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
Now we have an anonymous narrator with a clear agenda. While the motive is as yet unclear, which creates suspense, the tone is distinctly menacing. Readers will be wondering who this character is and what Flint’s done to evoke such anger. Example 9: Flat impact
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
This at least introduces an interesting premise – that of the return of a missing person. However, it feels a little flat and lacks impact. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
In the revised version, the missing person has a name. And by leading with punchy description of how long Flowers has been missing for, the follow-up clause about her unexpected return creates shock and intrigue. Example 10: No threat
Weak first line
Why it’s ineffective
While the use of a second-person narrative hints at voyeurism, there’s nothing in that line that indicates anything’s out of whack. Suggested improvement
Why the revision helps
The expository information about the mailbox, envelope and photograph are still there, as is the voyeuristic narration. However, by giving readers a small nudge about what’s in that image, there’s an imminent sense of threat. Summing up
A great opening line to any thriller or mystery usually does at least one of these things:
If these aren't evident in your first line, it’s worth revisiting. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn what every thriller must accomplish in its first five pages, including compelling opening lines, early pressure points, clear viewpoint characters and narrative momentum. Discover how to hook readers, build tension and set the stage for a gripping, page-turning story from the very first sentence.
In this article
Why the first 5 pages are a pitch to the reader
Thrillers live or die by their opening pages. We can think of them as a hook or a pitch – the thing that convinces readers to invest in the rest of the novel. This is the space that sets the tone, whets the appetite and sells the idea of what’s to come.
Readers pick up a thriller expecting immediate tension, momentum and intrigue. An editor will be looking for those same qualities too. Here’s what you should look out for when reviewing your first five pages. 1. Is the opening line compelling?
The very first line in a novel sets expectations for the entire story. When it comes to thrillers, readers love hearing a distinctive voice, a sense of movement or tension, and a hint of the predicament or situation a character’s dealing with.
Weak opening lines These often begin with neutral description or background information. For example:
These opening lines struggle because nothing specific or interesting is happening. The information is generic. There are no stakes and no reason for the reader to be curious. Strong opening lines Strong opening lines feature a character in motion or a problem. Harlan Coben is brilliant at writing knock-out opening lines. Take a look at these examples and compare them with the yawn fest above:
Notice how he zooms right in on a problem – rejection, harm, murder. It’s not just that Coben gets to the point. It’s that he injects so much emotion into each of those sentences. He does this by making sure that the psychic distance between the reader and the narrator feels close, like the character is talking to us intimately … There’s oodles of suspense too. Absolutely no way are we putting down any of those books after we’ve read their opening lines because, in just a few words, the author has made us a promise – that having set the scene he will answer the questions we’re already asking:
Tip for writers and editors If the opening line doesn’t pique the reader’s curiosity, or create tension or intrigue, consider a recast. 2. Have you introduced a pressure point?
A thriller's first five pages don’t need to be infused with violence or high-octane action, but they should show the reader where the pressure is.
Weak pressure Review your first few pages and make sure they’re not dominated by the routine and mundane. Waking up, commuting and casual conversations risk making your reader skim. Readers of the genre expect to be thrilled, and if you don’t satisfy that appetite early on, they may disengage and start wondering when the story’s going to pick up. Strong pressure Here’s how authors might could inject pressure points into the early pages of their stories:
Tip for writers and editors Scan the first pages for early conflict or unusual events. Ask yourself this: Is there an indication that something’s already wrong or off? If not, and exposition or a calm setup are dominating, consider how curiosity, danger or high stakes could be introduced. 3. Is a clear point-of-view character present?
When readers can step into a character’s perspective early on, they become engaged faster and more deeply invested in the story.
It doesn’t have to be the protagonist. It could be an anonymous antagonist or transgressor. It could be a victim. The point is that we want to know whose story we’re following in those first few pages. Weak perspectives A thriller whose early pages focus on vague, objective information with no emotional resonance can distance readers. We end up not understanding who we’re supposed to be rooting for or who we want to see stopped. Strong perspectives Readers are people. They know what it is to be human – to love, to fear, to hate, to despair. Compelling opening pages feed that innate knowledge. They provide information that helps us invest in a particular character, even if that emotional investment is negative. We should get an early sense of the following:
Tip for writers and editors Consider whether the first five pages tell readers what the viewpoint character stands to lose, why this situation matters to them and what is motivating them to act? If those personal stakes aren’t shown early on, the prose will feel flat and readers might switch off. 4. Have you created momentum?
Thrillers rely heavily on forward movement throughout, but the opening pages are particularly critical because that’s where writers get their first chance to earn readers’ trust and prove that momentum will be attended to.
Weak momentum The first five pages are not the place for information dumps that provide:
There is definitely a place for all of that stuff, but it’s better to introduce it appropriately after the story has got moving, particularly if it’s detailed. Not doing so means things could end up feeling rather static. Strong momentum Early pages that focus tightly on a problem, a mystery, a decision or an unusual situation will hold readers’ attention. We don’t need to be given all the answers or supporting information at this point – there’s a whole novel to do that. And in fact, not having all the background helps build intrigue and drive curiosity. The opening five pages of TM Logan’s 29 Seconds (Zaffre, 2018) give a superb example of narrative momentum. Readers are offered the following:
Throughout these few pages we’re presented with, first, a mystery, then tension as she tries to manage her shock and fear during the harassment. There are more questions than answers, but Logan makes us wait, concentrating on momentum rather than filling in all the detail. Tip for writers and editors Focus on motion rather than explanations in the first five pages. That energy will ensure that readers are prepared to wait for the detail that fills in all the gaps. Summing up
The first five pages of a thriller should do four things:
When those elements are in place, readers will want to turn pages 6, 7 and beyond. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn about why character names matter, how to approach the ‘hard-to-pronounce’ issue, and practical strategies for making your characters memorable, readable and believable.
In this article
Why character names are more than just labels
The name you choose for a character is a vital part of storytelling. A well-chosen name can signal personality, social background, culture or even foreshadow events in your story.
On the other hand, confusing, repetitive or inconsistent names can pull readers out of the narrative, making them struggle to remember your characters or follow the plot. In this article, we’ll explore why character names matter, how to approach the ‘hard-to-pronounce’ issue, and look at some practical strategies for making your characters memorable, readable and believable. Why names matter
A character’s name is often the first thing a reader learns about them. It can:
For example, in one of Jeff Carson’s series, the protagonist is called ‘David Wolf’. This evokes a certain intelligence, strength and cunning that blends familiarity with a primal, instinctive edge. In Chris Brookmyre’s Places of Darkness – a novel set in the future and on a vast space station orbiting earth – the cynical security officer entangled in organized crime is called Nikki Freeman. The first name feels casual and friendly, while the last name suggests autonomy, resilience and someone unbound by convention or authority. Consider also these two examples from Philip K Dick novels:
Dick’s names often balance familiarity with eccentricity, helping readers navigate surreal, speculative worlds while subtly suggesting character traits or thematic resonance. Beyond meaning, names help readers track characters across scenes. In novels with large casts and complex plots, distinct names prevent confusion. Embracing diversity in character naming
Today’s literary landscape is global, and character names reflect that. A name might be culturally or regionally specific, and can reflect both real-world multiculturalism and the inventive worlds of speculative crime and mystery fiction.
Speculative fiction, fantasy, science fiction and other world-building genres have long embraced invented names to convey a sense of otherworldliness or cultural specificity. In crime fiction, mystery and thrillers, readers are also increasingly encountering names from cultures and regions that they may not be familiar with. Regional branches of the noir tradition in particular – French, Tartan, Nordic, Afro, Asian – are rich and popular, and explore human weakness, moral uncertainty and the darker side of society. With that, we get characters who have authentic names, the pronunciation of which may not at first sight be obvious to some readers: Examples include:
‘Hard-to-pronounce’ names
When thinking the challenges of pronunciation, we need to start with a question: Hard to pronounce for whom?
When we say that a name’s hard to pronounce, we have to recognize that all we’re doing is reflecting our own personal perceptions and language abilities. There is no such thing as a universally ‘hard-to-pronounce’ name. What I – as a white, British person who’s something of a monoglot and not nearly as well travelled as I’d like to be – might find hard to pronounce is not what someone else might struggle with. Consider the examples I gave above – Mma Precious Ramotswe, Keita Mori, Kacper Ryx, Sartaj Singh and Ganesh Gaitonde. Those with a more intimate knowledge of life in Botswana, Japan, Poland and India would not need help pronouncing those character names in the way I would. The answer isn’t to choose alternative names and rip the authenticity from the novel in service of Western European or North American readers' comfort zones. Instead, authors wanting to help out their audience and maximise engagement can take various steps … Helping readers with pronunciation
It’s great to see diversity in the genre because this reflects the diversity in the readership base. Authors, however, do have to recognize that naming characters in ways that are universally accessible (at least on first read) is an impossible task.
That diversity will necessarily introduce challenges for some, and names that feel unfamiliar could trip them up and cause disengagement, no matter how brilliant the plot. The solution is to offer gentle cues that feel natural to the story, rather than forcing explanations on readers. That way, authors can maintain the narrative flow while helping readers engage. Some strategies could include: Phonetic hints in dialogue Show characters correcting pronunciation naturally. For example:
That’s the approach Pulley takes in The Watchmaker of Filigree Street to help readers pronounce Keita Mori’s name.
Contextual clues You could use other characters’ reactions or narrative descriptions to reinforce pronunciation subtly. For example, a viewpoint character’s narrative might go as follows:
Glossaries or appendices
It’s not uncommon in fantasy and science fiction to include glossaries that list pronunciation alongside character names, locations and worldbuilding terms. This can be an option for crime and thriller writers too. Helping readers with naming conventions
Some readers may be unfamiliar with naming conventions in other parts of the world. These can signal:
Example In Jar City, Arnaldur Indriðason's detective and criminal characters refer to each other by first name, which reflects the patronymic naming convention in Iceland and how first names don't always indicate social intimacy. Explaining to readers Crime and thriller writers can follow Indriðason's approach by including an explanatory note for readers in the front matter of the book. This helps the audience understand social nuance, hierarchy and cultural authenticity, which are especially important in novels where status matters. Names as character signposts
Names can also act as subtle character signposts. They can hint at personality, social standing or plot function.
Balancing uniqueness with readability
The trick is finding the sweet spot between authenticity, uniqueness and readability. Here are two practical tips:
Distinctiveness Distinctiveness is particularly important in crime fiction, mysteries and thrillers so that readers don’t end up confusing suspects, detectives and witnesses.
Pronounceable structure Names should be speakable, even if that means helping your reader learn how to speak them (as discussed above). The role of nicknames and titles
A carefully applied nickname or title can prevent confusion while reinforcing personality or status, especially in ensemble casts.
Nicknames These can make characters more approachable or signal relationships. One of my authors, whose characters were Polish, took this approach and it was very effective. A police officer with the last name ‘Cherniawski’ was often referred to in narrative and dialogue as Cheri, when it was appropriate to do so. As well as signalling intimacy between characters, it also helped Western European and North American audiences shift their attention away from pronunciation and towards character action. Titles or ranks These are especially useful in crime, military or political fiction, for example ‘Detective Rivera’ or ‘Captain Leong’. Aliases These can add mystery or misdirection, particularly in thrillers and espionage. Testing names in context
Before finalizing names, test them to make sure they work.
Read them aloud Reading aloud is a valuable exercise in crime fiction and thrillers, where names will appear frequently in dialogue, police reports and investigative notes. A character’s name should flow within the prose rather than interrupting it. Ask beta readers Can they pronounce the characters’ names easily? If they’re struggling, but you’re committed to retaining the name for the purpose of authenticity, check whether there are cues you can introduce to help readers learn quickly. Check context Do the names you’ve chosen fit within the cultural or regional context of the novel? Two common pitfalls to watch out for
When naming characters, watch out for:
1. Unintentional associations You may have created characters whose heritage is different from your own. Do some research to ensure that your characters’ names don’t inadvertently evoke real people, brands or stereotypes, particularly if those conflict with the character’s persona. For example, unless you’re writing satirical crime fiction, it won’t make sense to call a lazy, overweight investigator ‘Venus Williams’. The reader will all too frequently end up thinking of an athletic superstar, and your characterization will be undermined. Google Search is your friend here. 2. Inconsistency (especially across series) Check that characters’ names are spelled consistently and that their titles are consistent. Ms Abi Starling shouldn’t become Miss Abby Sterling. Maintaining a character list or spreadsheet with name spellings, nicknames and relationships can help you keep track of consistency, especially if you’re writing a book series. A handy little tool you can use for this purpose, if you’re working in Word, is a macro called ProperNounAlyse. Summing up
A character’s name is one of the first things a reader encounters, and it often lingers long after the story ends. Thoughtfully chosen names improve clarity, reinforce characterization and deepen immersion.
Even hard-to-pronounce or culturally specific names can work beautifully when authors provide cues, context and consistency. In short, the best names are:
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Before you send your manuscript to an agent, editor or beta reader, use this comprehensive 10-step checklist to ensure your story is as tight, compelling and credible as possible.
Why self-editing is part of the writing process
A loose end, unconvincing motive, lack of tension and suspense, or mistimed reveal can unravel an otherwise gripping story. For that reason, self-editing is more than just a final step. Instead, think of it as a critical part of your writing craft process.
Check #1: Plot and structure: Does the mystery hold up?
Start with the backbone of your story: the plot.
Strong crime fiction and thrillers typically follow a clear trajectory – setup, investigation, escalation and resolution. That doesn’t mean the novel has to be predictable, but the reader does need to be able to see the logic in the events as they unfold. In particular, ask yourself whether there any coincidences that solve too problems conveniently. It’s important that any key twists feel earned, rather than shoehorned in to make the story work. Pay special attention to your ending. A satisfying resolution should feel both surprising and inevitable. TIP: One useful technique is to work backwards from the reveal. Does every major plot point support that conclusion? Check #2: Clues and red herrings: Are you playing fair?
Crime, mystery and thriller readers love trying to solve the puzzle alongside the protagonist. That means you need to play fair.
Every crucial clue should have been planted before the reveal. That means finding a balance between keeping those clues obscure but not completely hidden. not hidden, but not obvious either. As for red herrings, these need to mislead without feeling manipulative or obvious. If readers feel they’ve been tricked rather than challenged, the story loses credibility. The Golden Age writers were particularly adept at this, making sure that all the pieces are there and, ultimately, fit together. TIP: Ask yourself whether an attentive reader could solve this mystery well before the ending? Check #3: Character behaviour: Is it consistent and logical?
In this genre, the transgressive behaviour hinges on human behaviour – the characters’ motives, opportunities and psychology.
Consistency doesn’t require that a character can’t change. They can, and in that case that change will be key to the story’s arc. However, that change needs to make sense for the reader and driven in a way that’s clear to them. Review each major character and check that:
TIP: Pay special attention to your antagonist. Their actions must make sense within the logic of the story. A brilliant twist won’t land well if the character behind it feels underdeveloped or inconsistent. Check #4: Character names: Are they distinct?
Confusion is the enemy of tight crime and thriller writing. And nothing’s more confusing that when characters have the same names.
Of course, that’s something we experience in everyday life, but when it comes to novel writing, readers need to be able to identify who’s who. That becomes even more important when you’re writing a series because to ensure continuity, there’ll be no going back! Make sure that:
TIP: Create a simple character list or spreadsheet to track names, titles, appearances, traits and relationships. Check #5: Timeline and continuity: Does everything add up?
Crime, mystery and thrillers often involve intricate timelines – alibis, movements, sequences of events. This is where many drafts fall apart.
Comb your draft manuscript and check the following:
TIP: Creating a separate timeline document can make this job easier. List exactly where each character is at every key moment. If something doesn’t line up there, it won’t line up for your reader either. Check #6: Procedure: Is it plausible but engaging?
You don’t need to be a forensic expert to write in this genre, but your story does need to feel plausible, even if the setting is speculative.
Chris Brookmyre’s Places in the Darkness is a superb example. It follows a murder investigation on a near-future space station, where politics, class and human behaviour drive the mystery. Despite the speculative setting, it feels plausible because the crime – and its motives – are grounded in recognisably human conflicts. Bear in mind that fiction can become dull if it mirrors real investigations too closely – lots of details about paperwork, delays and routine steps can drain tension and suspense. Check the following:
TIP: Prioritise tension over total realism. Include only the procedural details that increase the stakes, help the reader make sense of the investigation or reveal a character more deeply. Check #7: Is the dialogue engaging and purposeful?
Dialogue is one of the most powerful tools for building tension and revealing character.
When a character’s speech focuses too much on everyday but mundane information – like discussions about the weather or how people take their coffee – readers can become bored, even though what’s being said would happen in real life. As you edit:
TIP: Read your dialogue aloud. If it feels awkward to say, it’ll feel awkward to read. Check #8: Pacing and suspense: Do they keep readers hooked?
Crime, mysteries and thrillers need to pull readers forward relentlessly.
Each scene should either advance the plot, deepen character or increase tension – ideally all three. If it doesn’t, consider cutting or rewriting it. Look out for:
TIP: End every chapter with a question or unresolved tension. This article has 7 suggestions that will help you do that at line level. Check #9: Point of view: Are the shifts in perspective clear?
When readers have access to what’s going on in every character’s head in a single scene, head-hopping might be in play.
That can rip tension and suspense from your novel because readers know what everyone’s thinking and feeling. Nothing’s withheld. More crucially, perhaps, it stops them investing in a character’s experience in the moment. The psychic distance widens and makes them feel like they’re a distant observer rather than a participant. Of course, it’s fine to have more than one viewpoint character, but check that:
TIP: Highlight every sentence in which there’s information that your POV character couldn’t directly perceive or know. If anything slips through (another character’s thoughts, unseen actions), you’ve broken viewpoint, and it’s time to revise so everything is filtered strictly through that character’s experience. Check #10: Line craft: Is your writing sharp?
Effective line craft sharpens prose by making every sentence purposeful, precise and engaging. When we line edit, we’re seeking to enhance clarity, tone and rhythm and to eliminate excess.
That way the story flows smoothly and keeps readers immersed. Zoom in on your narrative and focus on the following:
TIP: Trust your readers, then cut unnecessary words. If a word, phrase or sentence doesn’t reveal character, advance the plot or heighten tension, remove it. Summing up
Robust self-editing will mean your draft is in the best shape possible before it goes to someone else. It might feel like a time-consuming thing to do, but it will save you time in the long run, and perhaps even money.
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn about how to use AI tools ethically when editing or proofreading.
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About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn how to edit more efficiently in Microsoft Word using the Quick Parts tool.
In this article ...
Do you edit in Word?
If you edit Word documents, and find yourself typing the same phrases, inserting standard text blocks or fixing the same formatting issues over and over again, Microsoft Word has a built‑in feature that can help you: Quick Parts.
In this article, we’ll look at what Quick Parts is, why it’s so useful, and how you can start using it today to edit faster and more consistently. Note: I work with the Windows operating system, so the instructions I’ve offered below align with that. What is Quick Parts?
Quick Parts is a Microsoft Word tool that allows you to store reusable pieces of content – such as text, tables, headers and formatted paragraphs – and insert them into your document easily.
You can think of Quick Parts as a personal library of ready‑made content. Once you save something, you can reuse it across documents without retyping or copying and pasting. This tool really comes into its own if:
Why Quick Parts makes editing more efficient
Using Quick Parts can significantly improve both your speed and accuracy when editing documents. Here’s how:
Whether you’re editing novels, reports, proposals, policies or meeting notes, Quick Parts helps you focus on content quality rather than repetitive tasks. Common editing tasks you can streamline with Quick Parts
Quick Parts is especially helpful for content you use frequently, such as:
In a nutshell, if you’ve ever thought, I’ve typed this before, that’s a strong sign it belongs in Quick Parts. How to create a Quick Part in Microsoft Word
Creating a Quick Part is simple and only takes a moment:
METHOD 1 (quickest)
METHOD 2
You can also assign a category to your Quick Part snippet if you wish:
Whichever method you choose, your content is now stored and ready to use whenever you need it.
How to insert a Quick Part while editing
Once you’ve saved Quick Parts, inserting them is quick and easy:
METHOD 1 (quickest)
METHOD 2
Whichever method you use, the content is inserted instantly with all formatting preserved. How to review or edit your Quick Parts
If you need to change the short name you’ve created, do the following:
A new pane will appear:
Tips for naming your Quick Parts
To get the most out of Quick Parts, use short, clear names that are easy to remember. Think also about how you can reduce the chance of the Quick Parts tool triggering an expansion inappropriately.
IN-PRACTICE EXAMPLE I edit crime fiction, thrillers and mysteries, and when I'm using the Comments tool, I like to give my author clear indications of which particular element of the editing process I’m focusing on. I do this quickly by using headings that I've set up as Quick Parts. Underneath a heading, I can then explain the problem and suggested solution. Plus, because the various headings in the comments are consistent, I can easily search for and review them by topic area. That helps me when I'm putting together a more comprehensive analysis in an editorial report. And to avoid the risk of Quick Parts kicking in when I don't want it to, I add a ‘z’ to my short names. Here are four topic-based headings I've set up in the tool:
Don't forget that you can save much larger blocks of formatted text into the Quick Parts too. Quick Parts versus third-party text-expansion tools
You might already be familiar with third-party productivity tools such as TextExpander. These can really shine when you want to use the same snippets across multiple programs – for example, email, web browsers and other applications.
As always, it comes down to your budget, needs and preferences. If you want something specifically for Word‑centric editing and formatting, consider the following:
If a separate tool would offer you more rounded support and you have the budget for it, that’s fine. You might even decide to use both in your editorial practice. Summing up
If you already edit extensively in Microsoft Word, the Quick Parts tool will help you reduce repetition, save time, maintain consistency and focus on what really matters: delivering clear, high‑quality content to your client.
And you won’t have to spend a penny more because it’s already part of Word! About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Here are 8 suggestions for you to consider when disclosing how you use AI in your editing business.
In this post
Read on to find out more about:
The impact of AI on editors and proofreaders
Editors and proofreaders are already feeling the effects of AI-assisted technologies on their work.
Why disclosure is important
Making time to understand whether AI is part of our editorial workflow because of the digital tools we use, and then disclosing that usage, ensures we model transparency for our clients and our community.
And when we do it, others feel inspired to do the same. That helps everyone make informed decisions based on the best information we have available at the moment. Being transparent also means we’re participating in a journey that fosters professional integrity and trust. Clients are more likely to feel confident in our recommendations when they see us being honest and understand which tools we’re using, why, and what the limitations and risks are. Perhaps, like me, your approach to disclosure is a work in progress, but I think we should all be accepting of that given how rapidly the landscape around us is changing, and how complex some of the issues are! Where to disclose your AI use
There’s no single best place. It’s up to you where you make your disclosure and how you link to it.
I work solely with indie authors and so I’ve chosen to include a section in the terms and conditions that make up my contract of services agreement. That’s because this is the text that clients are required to read prior to making a booking. However, some of you might prefer to create a separate disclosure page and link to it from the T&Cs or your contracts. If modelling transparency is important to you, it’s less about where your disclosure is than that it exists in the first place. What to include in your disclosure
I’ve suggested 8 things to consider for inclusion in your disclosure, though admittedly these are based on my particular needs.
If I’ve omitted anything that you think would be critical to your editorial business, please do leave a comment! Tip 1. Why you use digital tools
This is an opportunity to state at the outset not just that you are using digital tools – and most of us are using them, though not all of them are AI-assisted – but also why.
It shows clients that you’re able to use technology responsibly, and that the goal is to maintain professional standards for their benefit. Example from my T&Cs
To enhance the quality, accuracy, consistency and efficiency of my editing service, I use digital tools that may have AI-assisted technologies running in the background (even if I'm not actively using them).
Reason
I want to clients to know that I’m not working in the Stone Age, and that my use of digital tools will help give them a better result. Tip 2. Who’s accountable for the output
This is an opportunity to make it clear that regardless of a machine’s involvement in your editing process, it’s you, the editor, who’s accountable and responsible for what’s delivered.
Here you’re focusing on your human value – the sense and sensibility you bring to your work for them, even though you’re using tools to help with some of the mundane heavy-lifting. Example from my T&Cs
All outputs are reviewed and refined by me, a qualified human editor, before delivery to ensure quality and contextual accuracy. Software and AI tools are used strictly to support my human editing process and do not replace my human judgement or professional oversight.
Reason
I want to draw attention to the fact that a human is in control of the process at all times. Tip 3. Your use of generative AI in the editing process
Here’s where you can make a clear statement about your specific use of generative AI. It can help to clarify this because not all AI is the same.
Some editors use AI-assisted tools such as ChatGPT, Draftsmith or ProWritingAid for generative support with revisions; some might not. Being transparent helps clients understand what your particular skills are and who or what is doing the work. Example from my T&Cs
Reason
I pride myself on my stylistic line editing skills and want clients to know that I, a human editor, have the capability to do this nuanced and emotional work. Tip 4. Which specific digital tools you use
This is where you can name the digital tools you use as part of your workflow, their specific purpose and whether they’re licenced.
You don’t have to limit yourself to AI-assisted technologies. You can include word-processing and spreadsheet software, PDF tools, consistency checkers, macros, search engines and file management tools associated with your editorial process. Including a full list also means that when you seek a client’s consent (see #8 below), they know exactly which tools they’re consenting to the use of. 3 examples from my T&Cs
Reason
I want my clients to see the breadth of digital tools I use to support my service and to understand that I’m not using any old junk off the internet – where required, I have licences from reputable providers. Tip 5. Where the tools are hosted
This is an opportunity to tell clients whether each of your tools is hosted locally, in the cloud or elsewhere. Bear in mind the following:
If you’ve committed not to uploading client material to third-party sites, creating this information is a good way of double checking that you’re not in breach of that commitment. 3 examples from my T&Cs
Reason
By stating where my digital tools are hosted, I hope my clients will trust that I’m handling their data honestly and responsibly, but within the realms of what’s on offer and practical for my business. Tip 6. AI’s presence and interaction
Some of the editing tools we use may have AI operating in the background, and even though we’re not using it, it’s still ‘reading’ text and transmitting data.
This is an opportunity to be honest about that, and for your client to make informed decisions about whether they’re okay with it. Examples from my T&Cs
Reason
Compare the italic text in the above examples. I think it’s really important that I’m up front about the fact that Copilot is still sniffing around in the background when I’m using Microsoft Word, even though I’m not actively using the AI to suggest textual edits. This is especially the case given that I’m not yet ready to turn the function off because I’m still exploring how it might aid efficiency with non-client work that I do in Word. Tip 7. Use of open and closed systems
You can also disclose whether any AI systems you use are open or closed, or what your position is on this matter.
Providing this information shows clients that you understand the differences and are making responsible decisions. Example from my T&Cs
Reason
I’m still learning about AI, and the list of editorial digital tools I’m using in 2025 may look different in two years’ time. However, I want my clients to be confident that I’m using them in a way that respects their privacy to the best of my ability. Tip 8. Seeking client consent
If your disclosure is part of your T&Cs and contract agreement, seeking consent is an opportunity for informed transparency, legal compliance and professional integrity.
It’s protects you both, and you’re being clear that there’s choice involved here. You’ve chosen to use a set of tools, but they can decide whether they’re okay with that … before the project’s underway rather than halfway into it, when it's too late. Example from my T&Cs
Reason
I want my clients to formally agree that they’re happy for me to use the tools I’ve listed. That way, it’s part of our service agreement from the get-go and avoids misunderstandings. Can I copy your disclosure statement?
What's right for me, my business and my clients may be partially or completely unsuitable for you and yours, so I wouldn't recommend this.
Instead, think about the tips that I and others in our community have offered up for consideration, and then use that information as a jumping-off point ... something to help you craft your own AI and digital tools disclosure statement – one that's perfect for your business. However, if you're a member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP), you can access a free webinar called Policy Foundations for Editorial Professionals. This includes prompt-based guidelines to help you build your own disclosure. Go to the on-demand area of the knowledge hub to access the webinar and companion pack. Summing up
I hope you've found these tips useful. Creating a transparent digital tools and AI disclosure statement helps all of us professional editors to build trust, demonstrate ethical practice and ensure we're complying with privacy regulations.
It clarifies how our clients' materials are going to be handled, distinguishes our human expertise from automated support, and protects both parties by obtaining informed consent. And, ultimately, by doing this, we're showing our clients that we're professionals who are committed to treating their data and creative work responsibly and securely. Want to take a look at how I've approached the disclosure of digital tools in my terms and conditions? The button below will take you there – scroll down to section 14. About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn how to identify glue words, hedges and qualifiers, and then explore whether they’re adding clarity and enhancing character voice, or cluttering your fiction writing.
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What are glue words, hedge words and qualifiers?
Glue words, hedge words and qualifiers serve different purposes and are used in different contexts, but all relate to how language functions in writing or speech.
The function of glue words The function of glue words is structural. They hold or glue a sentence together. By themselves they add little semantic meaning to a sentence. Examples include:
The function of hedge words
The function of hedge words is modification. They soften or limit the strength of a claim and can introduce uncertainty, speculation, caution or humility. Examples include:
The function of qualifiers The function of qualifiers is limitation. They narrow the meaning of another word such as a noun or adjective, and make a statement more precise. Examples include:
Are glue words, hedges and qualifiers signal of poor writing?
No, glue words, hedges and qualifiers are not signals of poor writing, not when they’re used with purpose.
If you’re reading guidance on using these words, watch out for statements arguing bluntly that they:
Why? Because this kind of prescriptivism can encourage developing writers to rip the heart and soul out of a character’s voice, emotions and layered experience. The key is to ensure that every word on the page is working hard for you – whether it’s a glue word, a hedging word, a qualifying word, or some other language marker. Using glue words, hedges and qualifiers with purpose
Instead of eliminating glue, hedging and qualifying words, review your sentences and consider whether these markers are:
How glue words can enhance prose
Let’s look at an example of how glue words can enhance a piece of prose:
This paragraph has multiple glue words including ‘was’, ‘that’, ‘despite’, ‘the’, ‘to’, ‘but’ and ‘and’. Think of them as the cement that holds the prose together, ensuring that the prose maintains a smooth syntactic flow even when internal thought becomes more fragmented or reflective.
But note also the rhythmic tool in play in the final clause – the use of multiple gluing conjunctions (polysyndeton) to show rather than tell Lex’s overwhelm as she looks at the report. Glue words can therefore go beyond their structural function. They can also be used as a literary mechanism to evoke mood and emotion. How hedge words can enhance prose
The example also contains instances of hedging language including ‘might have said’, ‘somewhat’ and ‘might be’.
These hedges reflect Lex’s tentativeness in terms of her dad’s opinion, the prosecutor’s strategy and her own self-judgement about her positivity, and this helps readers understand how she bends towards reflection and uncertainty.
The language also helps the writer convey a more realistic voice that carries nuanced emotional conflict. Lex is trying to be rational but her doubt is intruding. Through this, readers are shown how people rarely speak or think in absolutes. How qualifiers can enhance prose
The qualifiers in the excerpt adjust the meaning of the words they modify to give reads more emotional texture.
Overall, the interplay of glue words, hedges and modifiers creates a narrative tone that avoids the extremes of melodrama or stoicism, and instead takes a middle ground that deepens our understanding of Lex as introspective, thoughtful, quietly resigned and gently self-critical.
Summing up
Glue words, hedge words and qualifiers can be effective writing devices when they’re used with purpose.
Don’t ditch yours without first analysing them so you understand whether they’re working for your prose. If they’re just adding to your word count needlessly, remove or rework them. However, if they’re providing your characters with emotional complexity and intelligence, and enhancing the structure, flow and mood of your sentences, embrace them! Other resources you might like
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
This post explores how to use embedded dialogue snippets and what effect they have on tone, character and flow.
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Capturing speech memory
Dialogue doesn’t only happen in real time. Sometimes a character recalls what was said or what they half-heard, or they mentally echo something that was stated in the past. This is speech memory.
Done well, capturing those moments on the page enhances the reader’s experience. It can affect the mood and flow, and subtly shine a narrative light on one particular character, while still revealing how others interacted verbally with them. What is embedded dialogue?
Embedded dialogue is reported speech or remembered lines that are woven into the narrative. The quotation marks and dialogue tags that we’d expect to see in active, real-time dialogue are omitted. Here's an example that compares the two approaches:
Active dialogue plus narrative:
Dialogue embedded in the narrative:
While the reader gets the same information, the mood is different. The active-dialogue version feels punchier, more immediate. The embedded-dialogue version feels more contemplative.
When to use embedded dialogue
1. To reflect a character’s processing of a memory of speech
A remembered line can reveal emotion or motive without cutting to a flashback or breaking the scene. Here are a couple of embedded-dialogue examples:
Active-dialogue versions might look like this:
Again, neither of these versions – the embedded or active dialogue – are right or wrong. But they do convey a different mood, and the prose flows differently. The active dialogue versions are blunter, terser and highlight different voices. The embedded dialogue is smoother and less tense, and highlights one voice.
2. To keep the focus on the viewpoint character and their present tension Recalling memories of the spoken words can add weight to prose without shifting the spotlight away from the viewpoint character's perspective in the now. Here are two embedded-dialogue examples:
Active-dialogue versions might look like this:
I think the embedded dialogue feels much more grounded in the characters’ immediate conundrums. It's their voice that shines through. The active dialogue, however, even with the pluperfect (past-perfect) speech tags, pulls the reader out of the present and shines a light on other characters' speech.
3. To avoid disruption Long dialogue flashbacks can derail pacing. Embedded snippets allow you to fold the past into present seamlessly. Again, here are two embedded-dialogue examples:
Now let’s turn that into active dialogue:
I think the active-dialogue versions are disruptive because the recalled speech is so lengthy and flips the focus onto the past speakers.
However, in the embedded-dialogue versions, the flow of the narrative captures the past speech but maintains the smooth flow of the prose and keeps the reader’s gaze firmly on the current viewpoint characters. 4. To add variety to how 'remembered' dialogue is displayed Using a mixture of embedded and active dialogue can add variety to how remembered speech is displayed, making it more interesting for the reader. Here's an example that includes both:
Here, the two styles work with each other to capture multiple speaker voices, but in a way that still ensures the first-person narrator's immediate experience remains dominant.
When active dialogue works
Active dialogue is brilliant in the following circumstances:
The difference between embedded dialogue and free indirect speech
Both free indirect speech and embedded dialogue are narrative techniques used to represent characters’ thoughts or speech, but they differ in structure and how much the narrator mediates the character's voice.
Here are two examples:
Example 1. Free indirect speech:
Notice how this feels more subjective. The psychic distance between the reader and the character is very close.
Free indirect speech is all about the viewpoint character and focuses on conveying what’s going on in their head now.
Example 2. Embedded dialogue:
Notice how this feels a little more objective and told because of the expository filter word ‘wondering’ and ‘speech-memory indicator ‘said he’d’. The psychic distance is a little wider in this case, as if the prose is being told by the narrator.
Embedded dialogue is all about the viewpoint character’s recollection; it holds the essence of memory … that something specific was actually said in the past. Neither is right or wrong. Instead, free indirect speech and embedded dialogue serve different purposes, and so one might work better than the other depending on what the author’s trying to achieve. Summing up
Embedded dialogue snippets let you carry the weight of past speech without quoting every line. Use them to deepen character, maintain narrative flow and give your prose a more intimate texture.
When done well, embedded dialogue allows the past to echo through to the present, shaping motive and mood without slowing the action. It’s not just about what was said, but how your viewpoint character remembers it. Other resources you might like
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Learn about editorial foundations, growth, sustainability, legacy and marketing with this 5-book series from the hosts of The Editing Podcast.
Fancy reading some of the core takeaways from The Editing Podcast? Notes from the Podcast is a brand-new book series that focuses on five core areas of editorial business development.
What’s in the series?
Currently there are five books in the Notes from the Podcast series, all focusing on what Denise and I like gassing about the most – running, growing, sustaining and marketing an editing and proofreading business.
Is the content identical to The Editing Podcast?
So, yes, it’s still our podcast content, but it’s been repurposed and reworked so that it’s book-fit.
How long did it take to create the books?
The answer to how long it took depends on your starting point.
We didn’t write the books from scratch – creating them required having the podcast scripts in the first place. And since we broadcast our first episode in 2019, so you could say the journey started then.
We’ve spent the past three years doing the following to bring these books to life:
Did you use AI?
The biggest challenge we faced in making this project viable was untangling well over 100,000 scripted words spread across 145 separate episodes broadcast in no particular order.
Some of that scripted content was irrelevant because it:
Even the content that was relevant wasn’t located only in episodes whose titles made it obvious. It was all over the place! Plus, it was scripted in a way that suited voices rather than books.
Unless we got help.
We talked over the options and wondered if AI might come to the rescue. We decided to give it the task of:
That was a learning curve because it took a while to work out how give it the right prompts to ensure it gave us exactly what we wanted. However, it was time well spent because we got there in the end! So, yes, we did use AI – to analyse our own content and extract the chunks of it that we wanted. From then on, it was up to us to do what we do best … What Louise and Denise did
With that done, we turned to:
And finally, we published! Why bother publishing when people can listen?
Denise and I have always been massive advocates for repurposing valuable content because it respects the fact that people like to get their information in different ways.
Some like to listen. Some like to watch. And some like to read.
How to buy the books
All five books are available through Amazon.
Still want to listen? Head over to The Editing Podcast!
About Louise
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
This post explores how oversimplifications of human motivation as ‘good’ versus ‘evil’ can damage crime fiction, mysteries and thrillers.
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The trouble with clear-cut morality
In real life, morality is murky. Few people do harm ‘just because’. People do bad things for complex reasons, and those in investigative roles – and apparently on the side of justice – don’t always behave impeccably.
Compelling contemporary crime fiction tends to avoid rigid binaries that present ‘good’ and ‘bad’ characters, where the villain is evil because they commit a crime, and the sleuth is good because they solve it. Going down that route can weaken character development, limit emotional relatability and misrepresent how justice manifests in a way that’s plausible. How to turn flat caricatures into relatable characters
In a binary model, the villain is ‘monsterized’ as inherently bad – the evil psychopath or lowlife. The focus is more on the nastiness they’ve done.
Meanwhile, the investigator is ‘heroized’ as inherently good – the wonderful restorer of order. The focus is on how they’ve saved the day. However, when you provide a deeper understanding of the reasons why a criminal acted as they did, and when you make space for a sleuth’s flaws, doubts and moral ambiguity, readers are able to access more plausible and fully rounded characters with human backstories and worldviews, however flawed. An example from the bookshelf One of my favourite examples of a flawed law-enforcement officer is Mick Herron’s Jackson Lamb, the unkempt, chain-smoking, foul-mouthed and flatulent head of Slough House, home to MI5 agents who’ve made career-ending mistakes. He’s vicious but protective, revolting but brilliant, both burned out and razor-sharp, more anti-hero than saviour. It’s Lamb’s complexity that keeps readers turning the page.
Prompt for writers and editors
Check your villain and sleuth. Where are the cracks that could move them away from binary stereotypes and towards human beings that your readers feel compelled to get under the skin of? Does the sleuth wonder if they're doing the right thing? Does the criminal regret, justify or second-guess themself? Making space for this adds tension. Exploring justice that reflects reality
Ditching binary models of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ allows you to explore crime and justice in a way that engages readers who’ve experienced systemic injustice in real life, as well as those whose privilege means they haven’t.
For example, a criminal’s actions might stem from something far more alarming than pure greed. It could be grounded in, or driven by, their experience of poverty, fear, abuse, racial- or class-based oppression. Taking this approach asks readers to consider where biases in the system are, who the establishment serves, and whether equal opportunity really stands up under the microscope. Examples from the bookshelf When I first read The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood over thirty years ago, Aunt Lydia, one of Gilead’s enforcers, didn’t get a voice, so I had no access to her motivations as a perpetrator. In The Testaments, she finally gets to narrate. It’s a glorious study of how abuse, fear and oppression can drive the most appalling behaviours, and what deeper motivation might lie beyond. On the surface, SA Cosby’s Razorblade Tears is a revenge thriller focusing on two former conmen – one Black, one white – bent on dishing out justice after their sons are murdered. But embedded within the criminality is a powerful story about grief and the prejudice each man must confront within himself. Prompt for writers and editors Check your assumptions. What lived experiences do your villain and sleuth bring to the table, and how do those affect their perception of the crime, evading detection and the approach to the investigation? Avoid telling readers who’s ‘right’ and who’s ‘wrong'. Instead, show them conflicting perspectives and allow them to decide for themselves. Ask questions about your perpetrators and your investigators: What does this person want and fear? What trauma or injustice shaped their choices? Who might see them as a hero, and who might see them as a villain? Building tension through real-world themes
Avoiding traditional ‘good’ and ‘bad’ binaries encourages space for exploring themes that cement tension throughout the novel, and speak to readers living in the world as it is now … or the one it might be in the not-too-distant future.
Through those themes, you might explore societies’ values, and what constitutes criminal behaviour in terms of your own and your readers’ values. Are there are circumstances where bad deeds might be justified for the greater good? For example, could the perpetrator and the investigator both be grappling with thorny concepts that make who’s ‘right’ and who’s ‘wrong’ ambiguous?
An example from the bookshelf Tom R Weaver’s debut thriller Artificial Wisdom mixes cli-fi, techno-political intrigue and ethical tension. It asks readers to consider whether truth matters more than survival, and whether we should trust our fate to humanity alone or something beyond it. Prompt for writers and editors Check your underlying themes. Which big-picture questions might you draw the reader's attention to and that don’t have clearcut answers? What happens when the system itself is unjust? What if both the criminal and sleuth are victims of the same failing structure? Summing up
Crime fiction and thrillers can reveal uncomfortable truths about people and systems. By embracing ambiguity, you can craft more emotionally resonant and morally engaging stories.
To keep your characters interesting and out of binary waters, ask yourself whether the most compelling villain might be one who almost persuades us, and whether the most unforgettable hero might be one who almost breaks our trust. Other resources you might like
About Louise
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Backstory helps readers understand why characters act the way they do and what their motivations are. This post offers five tips on how to introduce it so that it enriches, rather than distracts from, the main story.
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What is character backstory?
Backstory is the fictional history of a character before the main plot begins. It could include past events, relationships, traumas or achievements that shape their present behaviour and decisions. Backstory should be:
To ensure you hit the mark, think about which of the following mechanisms might work best for your novel. 1. Drip feed the information
Think of backstory as the seasoning rather than the main dish. It can be tempting to give readers everything you want them to know about the past in a dedicated and detailed chapter. However, this comes with risk. Your reader, who’s itching to move forward and find out what’s going to happen next, is forced backwards.
The focus is no longer on the now of the novel, but on a different time and space. That in itself can be distracting. Plus, by giving readers all this backstory in one fell swoop, you could lose the opportunity to introduce suspense, mystery or intrigue. Instead of an information dump, try instead a brief but telling reference that’s related to the current action. For example, if your character’s past involves an event that’s made them mistrustful of small spaces, you could hint at this in the narrative, but explain it more fully in a piece of dialogue later on. Here’s how that might look at first mention. The backstory nudge is in bold.
This way, you’re revealing backstory in smaller chunks – ones that invite the reader to think: What happened last time he went into a dark alley?
This builds suspense and leaves readers with questions that you can answer later. And for now, the reader stays in the moment with Baz, running towards the square and finding safety in the crowd. 2. Use natural dialogue
Dialogue can be a superb way of unveiling backstory. Depending on when it comes up, you can drip feed or go into more detail.
The key is to ensure that it sounds natural rather than being a convenient tool. For example, if Marcus already knows about Baz’s fears, the following will feel overworked. The dialogue is for the reader’s benefit only, not what these two people might actually say to each other. What to avoid
This kind of dialogue-for-convenience is sometimes referred to as maid-and-butler dialogue. To avoid it, try something like the following instead.
What to do instead
Again, this version hints at a traumatic event in the past, but leaves an intriguing space for more to be revealed later.
3. Interject with narrative reflection
If the time has come to reveal more, you could use the space between the dialogue to offer a little more insight.
Take care to restrain it. Give the reader just enough, then pull them back to the present action. Here’s how that might look.
4. Use other characters to reveal backstory
You could decide to hint at a character’s backstory through how others see them. Again, readers should be given only what they need to know, and the reveal should be relevant to the scene.
Notice how we’re given a nudge about something in Baz’s past that means alternative arrangements have to be made. These add a little complexity to the plan Fi and Marcus are working on, but there’s space to explore in more detail at a later point.
If it’s time to introduce that extra detail, an alternative could see Marcus reflecting internally on a plan he’s put together. Here, the backstory is more detailed but it’s still relevant to the present issue that he’s focusing on – planning an escape.
5. Use sounds, objects or settings as triggers
The external environment can be effective tools with which to introduce backstory. Your protagonist might see, hear or touch something that triggers a memory or an emotion.
Here are two examples. Once more, they’re mere nudges that make the reader ask questions, rather than lengthy explanations that risk flattening the prose.
Summing up
Backstory is as a tool that gives your crime fiction and its characters emotional depth at any point it’s introduced. If it doesn’t affect how the reader engages with the story in the moment, remove it.
Keep it taut so that the reader remains engrossed in the novel’s present – what the characters are doing/feeling now. Nudges and hints at first mention are often far more suspenseful and intriguing. If backstory is dragging on for multiple paragraphs or even chapters – a within-novel biography – rethink its structure and how you might break it up so that you reveal it gradually. Other resources you might like
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Discover how to use a marketing buddy to conquer overwhelm and get your editing and proofreading business promotion moving.
Summary of Episode 132
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'Vivacity’ by Kevin MacLeod
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
How human editors and proofreaders can remain relevant when AI capability is improving exponentially.
Summary of Episode 131
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Music credit
'Vivacity’ by Kevin MacLeod
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Discover what implied dialogue is and four ways you can use it in your novel, whatever the genre, to enrich your readers’ experience.
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What is implied dialogue?
Implied dialogue is information that could be included naturally in a character’s speech but is instead offered in a narrative form that implies that direct speech has taken place.
Here’s a comparative example:
In the first version, aside from the speech tag (Ava said), the information is conveyed as present-tense direct speech. I’ve used single quotation marks, but doubles would have been fine too if I’d been writing in a different style.
In the second version, some of that direct speech has been rendered as third-person past-tense narrative instead. It still has the feel of Ava’s speech because the narrative follows on coherently from her introductory statement about having second thoughts. That she actually spoke these words to the listener is therefore implied. 4 reasons to experiment with implied dialogue
Whether you use implied dialogue, and how often, is a stylistic choice. There are certainly no rules. However, it’s worth considering the impact it can have on your writing and the way your reader engages with your prose.
Here are four reasons why I think you should experiment with it. 1. Reducing psychic distance to involve the reader
When two or more characters are talking to each other through direct speech, the reader is relegated to the role of invisible listener.
With implied dialogue, the narrator shifts their gaze towards the reader and invites them to participate by being an active listener. That reduces the psychic (or narrative) distance between the narrator and reader so that our experience of the novel is more intimate. EXAMPLE 1 Below is an example from p. 290 of False Value by Ben Aaronovitch. Our protagonist Peter Grant narrates in the first person, which means that the psychic distance between him and the reader is usually fairly intimate – he’s always telling us, the readers, what’s happened. In this example, he’s on a Skype call with an FBI agent called Reynolds who’s updating him on what she’s discovered about a case. By rendering some of Reynolds’s speech as implied rather than direct, Aaronovitch subtly ensures that the reader’s still invited to the party. It’s as if Grant has looked away from Reynolds on the screen for just a moment, and towards us.
2. Summarising to avoid repetition
Sometimes the reader has already accessed information via a viewpoint character. If that character then shares the detail with another via direct speech, the reader will be subjected to repetition that encourages them to skim.
A narrative summary enables authors to imply the spoken sharing of information without actually putting the whole conversation down on paper twice. EXAMPLE 2 In the excerpt below, the protagonist – with the help of a companion – has escaped from an unknown location after being kidnapped.
Notice how the dialogue at the end of the excerpt repeats information we already know because Grant has narrated the journey of discovery and the direction he takes in the previous paragraphs. It’s repetitive and dull.
But actually, I’ve butchered it. The real excerpt from pp. 329–30 of Lies Sleeping, also by Ben Aaronovitch, looks like this:
Take a look at the final line. Aaronovitch uses narrative, rather than direct speech, to imply what Grant has actually said to Guleed.
The repetition is gone. Instead, of laboured direct speech that tells readers what they already know, the implied dialogue is taut and pacy, and lets us move on to the next part of the scene. Summarising information via implied dialogue doesn’t necessarily reduce the word count, but that’s fine. The goal is not to necessarily to reduce the number of words (though that may be the result) but to keep the reader interested and drive the story forward. 3. Breaking up would-be monologues
When non-viewpoint characters have information to share, direct speech is the perfect vehicle because we can learn about their experiences even though we haven’t been party to them.
However, when there’s a lot of detail, that information can turn into what feels like a monologue. The reader can end up dislocated from the environment, as if the speaker is talking in a vacuum or floating in white space. You might see this referred to as ‘talking heads syndrome’. Implied dialogue is the antidote. It breaks up the dialogue so that while some of what was said is rendered in direct speech, chunks of it are voiced by the narrator. That is, what was actually spoken by the non-viewpoint character is implied. EXAMPLE 3 Below is a fine example from False Value again, this time on p. 287. Consider how long Reynolds’s spiel would have been if Aaronovitch hadn’t broken it up by allowing the protagonist and first-person narrator, Peter Grant, to bear some of the burden. It’s implied that the 113 words about what happened on August 2015 were spoken by Reynolds, but it’s Grant who delivers the information to the reader on her behalf. The monologue has been avoided but we know exactly how that conversation went.
And don’t forget the impact on reader inclusion discussed earlier. This monologue-breaker has also served to turn Grant’s narrative gaze towards us – the readers – rather than focusing solely on the person who’s talking to him via Skype.
4. Making direct speech more impactful
Using implied dialogue can also enable direct speech to shine a little more brightly, especially when there’s a punchy spoken one-liner that deserves to stand out on the page.
EXAMPLE 4 The excerpt below is from p. 369 of Lies Sleeping. The author uses a combination of direct speech, implied dialogue and narrative to present a coherent telling of the what the characters are saying and doing. In this case, the implied dialogue is how readers know about the relatively mundane conversations that have taken place between the characters, but note in particular the penultimate line in which we learn that Guleed said she’d been about to phone. What that does is put her closing direct speech centre stage. And that’s right and proper because it’s anything but mundane. It’s a section-closer that drips with suspense and tension – compelling the reader to turn the page so they can find out more about the problem Guleed’s identified, what the implications are and how the team are going to fix it.
Summing up
Implied dialogue does what it says on the tin. It is narrative that implies what characters said to each other, even though it’s not presented in the present tense and (often) with quotation/speech marks surrounding it.
And while direct speech that’s rich in voice, conveys mood, and shows intent is knockout, it may be that you’re concerned about excluding your readers – or, worse, boring them. If that's the case, experiment with this tool and see what effect it has on your prose when you mix things up a little. Related resources and cited texts
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Discover how editors and proofreaders can use text generative AI as a business tool that enhances marketing, increases productivity and reduces stress.
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'Vivacity’ by Kevin MacLeod
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Does your novel’s narrative have several consecutive snippets of dialogue that reflect a non-viewpoint character’s state of mind? If so, how do you punctuate them? And is there an alternative to using speech marks?
What’s in this post?
The difference between dialogue and narrative
Dialogue is the conversation between two or more characters. It’s what people say out loud and is often indicated by opening and closing quotation marks (or speech marks). Depending on your style of choice, these marks can be either singles ‘blah blah’ or doubles “blah blah”.
Narrative is the telling of the story – how an external narrator or viewpoint character reports on the events taking place in the novel. In the example below, the dialogue between the characters is in quotation marks. The surrounding text is narrative, and through it we learn what the viewpoint character – Milo – is thinking and what he can see and hear as the journey progresses.
Note the following:
Here’s how it might look using US English style:
Note the following:
Using speech snippets as a narrative device
Sometimes the narrative can include snippets of speech to inform readers about a character’s state of mind or a types of behaviours.
Although full sentences are used in the speech snippets, it’s not conventional dialogue. Rather, it’s narrating character’s recollection of utterances that give the reader a flavour of another character’s perspective. Here’s an example punctuated using British English style. Note the following:
And here’s an example punctuated using US English style, which some people might find a little trickier because of the question mark and the punctuation convention. In the three examples below:
Option 1: Allow the question mark to do the separating
Option 2: Recast so that the snippet with a question mark is at the end of the sentence
Option 3: Add a separating comma after the closing quotation mark to emphasize the separation
If you’re an editor who doesn’t have the scope to suggest a recast, I think Option 1 is fine. The question mark acts in place of a separating comma and avoids cluttering punctuation.
Option 3 indicates a clear separation but it’s a break from US-English style and clutters the paragraph with a comma that isn’t strictly needed. Using free indirect speech as an alternative
Free indirect speech (also called free indirect discourse) is an alternative that could work for writers worried about getting tangled up in how to punctuate snippets of direct speech in narrative.
Free indirect speech reads like direct first person dialogue but retains a third-person viewpoint. Here’s how it might work in our example.
Note how I’ve experimented with just a little italic for emphasis – old chap and our lot.
That’s so that although Milo is reporting the kinds of things he heard his boss say, the reader pays attention to the some of the tone of his boss’s voice and some of the language that Milo finds particularly grating. Keeping the text lean and engaging
It’s worth paying attention to how many dialogue snippets you’re using. If they’re in a single sentence of the narrative, there’s a risk the prose won’t flow well and the reader will get lost. In the example I provided above, there were four, and that’s probably about the limit.
So what should you do if you’re passing an editorial eye over a sentence with lots of snippets? Option 1: Can you create the same impact with fewer snippets? Check whether all those snippets need to be there. Are some of them conveying similar information? If that’s the case, could you retain only those necessary to convey the essence of the character’s thought processes to the reader? The example below has eight snippets.
Yes, Adamson might have uttered all of those statements, but capturing the essence of his mindset can be still achieved my omitting at least three of them.
I recommend you pick the utterances that are most powerful. That way, you'll ensure your reader remains engaged. Option 2: Create two sentences from one If editing out some dialogue snippets isn’t an option, try breaking the sentence into two.
Option 3: Mix up dialogue snippets and free indirect speech Another option is to combine two different literary tools – direct speech snippets and free indirect speech. Here’s how it might work.
Again, I experimented with just a little italic to draw attention to Adamson's tone and its grating effect on Milo, and added an action beat in parentheses to highlight Adamson's readiness to break the law.
This option ensures the use of direct speech isn’t overworked, and instead gives the reader a different way to access the information in the narrative about how Adamson’s mind works. Should the snippets be capitalized?
Whether or not you should capitalize the snippets is a style choice. I've chosen to capitalize them in the examples I provided because I wanted to indicate that this is how these full sentences would have been rendered if we'd been shown the actual conversation as it happened.
If I was dealing with partial dialogue, I'd approach the text as in the next example.
Summing up
Using snippets of direct dialogue as a narrative tool can be a superb way of conveying a non-viewpoint character’s mindset and behaviour.
However, writers and their editors need to ensure that readers won’t be tempted to skim. For that reason, pay attention to:
Related resources
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
Want to know how to punctuate dialogue that’s interrupted midstream by an action beat? This post shows you one way of handling it in your fiction writing and editing practice.
What’s in this post?
What is dialogue?
Dialogue is the part of a novel that conveys character speech. It’s more usually set off by opening and closing quotation marks (or speech marks).
Depending on your style of choice, these marks can be either singles (‘blah blah’) or doubles (“blah blah”). It’s more common to see double quotation marks used for books written in US-English style, and single marks used for books written in British-English style, but this is a convention rather than a rule. Consistency is what authors and editors aim for, so make your choice and stick with it. What is an action beat?
An action beat is a short description that comes before, between or just after dialogue. It assists dialogue by telling readers about how a character interacts with their environment while they’re speaking, and is useful for showing rather than telling readers how a character is feeling.
That’s particularly useful when the narrative style is limited to the perspective of a single viewpoint character, a common and effective style of writing for many commercial fiction authors. Examples of dialogue with action beats
Below are three examples of character speech. Note how the action beats help ground the character in their environment and help the reader understand how that character is feeling.
In these examples, I’ve placed the action beats in the middle of the dialogue so you can focus on how the various beats I’ve chosen convey different emotions to the reader: frustration in the first, contemplation in the second, and boredom in the third.
Note that none of these action beats are interrupting the speaker midstream. When they do, the punctuation can become a little more challenging.
Midstream dialogue interruptions: Using dashes
When authors want to interrupt the speech midstream with an action beat, a common approach is to punctuate with parenthetical dashes.
This is not the law, not a rule, not the only way or the right way. It’s just the style that many publishers and independent authors choose to follow and that readers are used to seeing. Again, consistency is recommended so that readers aren’t unnecessarily distracted. Example 1 Here’s an example written in British-English style, using spaced en dashes and single quotation marks.
And here it is again in US-English style, using closed-up em dashes and double quotation marks.
Example 2 Here’s an example written in British-English style, using spaced en dashes and single quotation marks. This time we’re dealing with an additional punctuation mark: the ellipsis.
Which case to use: Upper or lower?
The action beats contained within the parenthetical dashes don’t start with a capital letter. Instead, the convention asks for lower case because the text is interrupting the dialogue midstream. Avoiding three consecutive punctuation marks
At one point In Example 2 above, there are three punctuation marks in a row: an ellipsis, a quotation mark, and a dash. That’s not something that would bother me because I can see the function each has:
However, some authors feel uncomfortable with multiple punctuation marks. If that’s you, you could try the following: 1. Remove the ellipsis and let the reader insert their own pause Without the ellipsis, it’s not as clear to the reader if the scrolling is happening at the same time as the character is speaking or if she takes a pause, but does it really matter? In this case, probably not.
2. Tell (rather than show) the pause If an author feels it’s absolutely necessary for the reader to know about the pause but doesn’t want to show it with an ellipsis, they could tell it (she paused). Some might consider this a less elegant solution – a little wordy perhaps – but most readers likely won’t bat an eyelid unless those told pauses and hesitations are littering a text.
Summing up
As always, bear in mind that punctuation conventions are useful and helpful ... until they mess with rhythm and mood. The guidance I’m offering is just that – guidance. It’s not a prescriptive set of rules you must follow.
If you want to interrupt dialogue midstream with action beats, try setting off the beat with dashes. The choice of whether to use single or double quotation marks and spaced en dashes or closed-up em dashes is the author’s (or the publisher’s). If you’re a freelance fiction editor, check what your client’s style preferences are. Once the style choice has been made, go for consistency so that readers can concentrate on immersing themselves in the story rather than untangling the punctuation. Related line-craft resourcesAbout Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
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Find out how to balance the scenes in a crime novel or thriller by using different types of beats that help readers understand the fictional world they’re immersed in. There's a free sample scene analysis too!
What’s in this post?
5 types of beats in the fiction writer’s and editor’s toolbox
Fiction writers, and the editors who support them, can use different types of beats to make a scene interesting: emotion, action, inaction, description and dialogue beats.
All have their place. Here’s how each works to create a more fully rounded scene. I’ve focused on examples from crime fiction and thrillers, but the advice below could equally be applied to other genres. Emotion beats
Emotion beats tell readers how the viewpoint character is feeling. They bring sensibility to a scene.
A viewpoint character is the character from whose perspective we experience the story. In first-person-limited and third-person-limited narratives, readers have access to what’s going on inside their heads – for example, their emotions, thoughts and decision-making processes. Access to this internal space helps us empathize with them and make sense of their motivations. That doesn’t mean we have to like them, but we do understand them. And that brings them to life and makes them more interesting.
Example from published fiction
Adrian McKinty, The Chain, Orion, 2020 (Kindle version, Chapter 1)
Action beats
Action beats help readers imagine how a character is physically behaving and can give us insights into the environment and the person’s traits. They bring movement to a scene.
Perhaps a viewpoint character stands up because the overly soft chair is making their sciatica play up; maybe an object’s being discussed, and they push it away in disgust; or perhaps they rub their bare feet across the rough pile of a rug in order to soothe themselves in an unformattable situation. These beats are particularly useful when an author wants to convey emotions being experienced by a non-viewpoint character whose internal head-space isn’t accessible in limited narrative styles. Perhaps wiping sweat off their forehead indicates they’re feeling nervous, or their fidgeting with a beer mat indicates boredom.
Example from published fiction
Harlan Coben, Win, Arrow, 2021 (Kindle edition, Chapter 1)
Inaction beats
Inaction beats are pauses, hesitations and moments of silence or stillness. Even when these are short, they help the reader understand pace. They bring breathing space to a scene.
They’re powerful because they can show rather than tell more than one character’s contemplation, consideration, indecision, or shock. The prose might state the stillness or silence directly, or it can be nuanced and come in the form of a character’s taking stock of a situation or bracing themselves for a potential upset.
Example from published fiction
Kate Hamer, The Girl in the Red Coat, Faber & Faber, 2015 (Kindle edition, Chapter 6)
Description beats
Description beats give readers objective information about the character or environment. They bring stability to a scene.
They help readers understand what characters are wearing, what they look like, what’s surrounding them, what they can hear, see, smell, touch or taste. That brings the scene alive.
Example from published fiction
Harlan Coben, Win, Arrow, 2021 (Kindle edition, Chapter 1)
Dialogue beats
Dialogue beats tell readers what characters are saying and let readers hear those distinct voices in action. Vocal speech can be heard, and so dialogue beats bring expression to a scene.
Like action beats, dialogue is an opportunity to bring depth to non-viewpoint characters in limited narrative styles. Their internal opinions and feelings – which we don’t have access to because we’re not in their heads – are revealed to us.
Example from published fiction
Adrian McKinty, The Chain, Orion, 2020 (Kindle version, Chapter 1)
Why mixing up beats makes scenes more interesting
Too much of anything is rarely a good thing, and the same applies to a novel’s beats. When a scene’s constructed primarily around a particular type of beat, there’s a risk the reader will become frustrated and lose interest.
Writers and their publishing teams can use the drafting and editing stages to analyse the prose and evaluate whether there’s sufficient balance. How to analyse a scene for beat balance
Must all 5 beats be introduced? No, certainly not. There’s no formula to writing compelling fiction. Good line craft means making a judgement about what’s missing and what might be added.
APPROACH 1 One way of approaching this is to think not in terms of the different types of beats but instead in terms of what they contribute, and whether there’s too much or too little. And so writers and their editors can ask: Which of the following should the reader experience in this scene, and are they present? Here’s a summary of those elements:
Example: Is too much expression dampening the scene? An over-reliance on dialogue – even if it’s extremely well written – leaves a reader with no nudges about the emotions characters are experiencing or the environment they’re operating in. It’s two or more talking heads on a page. If there should be expression in the scene, but the characters are chattering too much, think how you might turn the volume down, or at least disrupt it. Consider introducing a few action, description and emotion beats. Or even turn some of the information contained within the speech into narrative. Example: Is too much stability flattening the scene? An over-reliance on objective description – even if it gives the reader a rich sense of the environment – leaves readers with no way of accessing mood. It’s a menu of what’s where. Description should stabilise the scene, not crush it so that it’s as flat as a pancake. Help readers get under the skin of the characters and their environment by adding emotion or dialogue, or a little action that gives the scene some movement.
APPROACH 2
Another option is to colour-code the text in a scene according to what type of beats are in play. This can help authors and editors evaluate whether one type of beat is overbearing, and where they might add in additional types of beat to disrupt that dominance. It's a powerful way of communicating the problem visually and quickly. Summing up
Using different types of beats in a scene helps readers to understand where the character is, what’s around them, how they feel and what’s important to them. Over-reliance on one type can lead to boredom and frustration; mix things up to keep them interested and turning the page.
Download a free beats booklet
Other resources you might like
About Louise Harnby
Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.
She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.
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