FOR EDITORS, PROOFREADERS AND WRITERS

Learn how to use foreshadowing in crime fiction and thrillers to build suspense, plant clues and keep readers guessing without giving too much away.

• What foreshadowing is
• Is foreshadowing always about unease?
• What effective foreshadowing achieves
• Foreshadowing and shared uncertainty
• How foreshadowing drives suspense
• 4 examples of effective and poor foreshadowing
• Tips for controlling foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is the controlled planting of information that only becomes fully meaningful later in a story. Think of it as a warning or sign – one that might be subtle or more explicit.
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Rather than announcing what will happen, writers place carefully chosen details into the narrative so that, in hindsight, the outcome feels both surprising but logical.

In crime fiction and thrillers, that’s especially important because the reader is actively encouraged to try to unravel the mystery rather than just follow it. Foreshadowing can be part of that problem-solving process.

People sometimes assume that foreshadowing is about uneasy or ominous vibes, especially in crime fiction and thrillers. That association probably comes from how frequently the technique is used in those genres, rather than from what foreshadowing actually is.

In fact, foreshadowing is a neutral mechanism – one through which emotion is born. In other words, the emotion is the consequence.

Foreshadowing details can certainly create a sense of unease, but they could equally produce other emotions. Which ones will depend on your story. Possibilities could include:
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• unease or dread if the detail hints at danger or harm
• curiosity if it suggests a mystery without immediate threat
• doubt if it suggests that the information might not be trustworthy 
• anticipation if it signals an upcoming payoff or reveal
• joy if it nudges the reader in the direction of a happy event.
• recognition (in hindsight) when the reader realises a clue was present all along, but initially missed its significance.

Done effectively, foreshadowing:
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• preserves narrative viewpoint
• creates anticipation but preserves uncertainty
• rewards readers who pay attention but doesn’t give away answers
• makes revelations feel justified rather than random.

Foreshadowing works best when the reader and viewpoint character have the same limited knowledge and shared uncertainty. In this situation:

• the reader only knows what the viewpoint character knows
• both interpret clues at the same time
• both are equally vulnerable to misunderstanding
• both revise their understanding together as new information emerges.

Foreshadowing inside a state of shared uncertainty is especially powerful because it feels like the fictional world is gradually revealing itself to both of you at once, rather than the author speaking to the reader.
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And that’s the key thing. When you introduce foreshadowing to your writing, you don’t want it to seem like some external narrator is tapping your reader on the shoulder and shouting hints into their ear. Instead, suggestion is embedded into the character’s experience.

Suspense is the sustained feeling of uncertainty and anticipation that arises when a reader knows something important is at stake but doesn’t yet know how, when or whether it will be resolved.

Foreshadowing can help build suspense by separating information from understanding.

For example, a character (and therefore the reader) could:

• see a clue (information)
• and then either register its significance correctly or incorrectly, or fail to notice its relevance (understanding).  

Suspense emerges from the gap between what’s seen and what’s understood. Instead, the reader will ask: What does this mean? Why was this detail included? Is this important or misleading?

​When done well, foreshadowing keeps those questions active but doesn’t answer them too early.

​Here are four examples of when foreshadowing works … and when it doesn’t, each one with a short analysis of what’s going on.

Example 1: Viewpoint focus
This example includes details that foreshadow the possibility of data manipulation and internal misconduct.

Comparing the two
Notice how in the first version, the reader and the detective are investigating together. We’re inside her head and know only what she knows and feels, and what she can objectively observe. This preserves the close, restricted viewpoint, and builds a sense of uncertainty that can be explored in more detail as the investigation progresses.

In the second version, however, we have a god’s-eye view. The narrative’s no longer bound by what Harris can perceive, infer or reasonably suspect. Instead, readers now have access to information that they haven’t earned the right to know because Harris hasn’t discovered it – ie Lane’s manipulation two weeks earlier.

Viewpoint integrity has collapsed, and a plot point has been given away so that there’s no longer any anticipation. Any questions the reader had have been answered.

Craft takeaway
Foreshadowing works by embedding clues within the character’s experience. If you step outside that experience to explain those clues, you’re no longer foreshadowing. You’re simply giving the game away.

Example 2: Evidence assessment
This example includes details that foreshadow potential issues with the evidence’s provenance and integrity.

Comparing the two
In the first version, there’s a cluster of small signals that foreshadow problems with the evidence:

• contamination or manipulation (the footage comes from a shared folder)
• uncertain provenance (Cole states, unprompted, that he didn’t change it)
• the need for verification (Harris orders integrity checks and source tracing).

Taken together, these don’t point directly at the truth, but at the uncertainty of what might be the truth. The radio callout is handled credibly so that it intensifies urgency without blocking access to the information.

Crucially, the evidence is captured but not yet understood. That keeps the reader in suspense, asking not what the footage shows, but whether it can be trusted, who placed it there, and how it might need to be reinterpreted.

In the second version, two of those same signals are still present but they’re not acted on.
The shared source and uncertain provenance both suggest that the footage may be unreliable, yet the investigator treats it as effectively definitive. The doubt is raised, then immediately flattened.

This is where the foreshadowing breaks down. The story introduces uncertainty but fails to follow through on its implications, so the detail stops functioning as foreshadowing and becomes clutter.

Craft takeaway
Foreshadowing isn’t just about planting clues but also about honouring what those clues imply. If you introduce doubt, follow through on it. Otherwise, it isn’t foreshadowing; it’s just noise.

Example 3: Emotional history
This example includes details that foreshadow unresolved trauma or past wrongdoing.

Comparing the two
In the first version, there are foreshadowing details that create uncertainty around what Emily means when she references her past. These are:

• her ambiguous phrasing (‘get creative’)
• her visible discomfort
• the brief period of disassociation followed by a too-fast restoration of socially conventional behaviour.

That combination creates tension because nothing is explained, but the signs are that there’s more to the conversation than meets the eye.

The second version just spits it out. There’s nothing left to infer, suspect or anticipate. By answering questions too early, rather than encouraging the reader to form those questions through the foreshadowing signals, the tension and suspense plummet.

Craft takeaway
Effective foreshadowing provides cues without confirming what they mean. The moment a cue is fully explained, it stops functioning as foreshadowing and becomes exposition.

Example 4: Ominous event
This example includes details that foreshadow the later significance and threat associated with the envelope.

Comparing the two
The foreshadowing in these versions is more explicit than in Examples 1–3, yet only one is effective. The difference comes down to trust: one shows, while the other tells.

The first version trusts the reader to notice patterns – the flicker, the silence and the weight of the envelope – and draw their own conclusions. It builds unease through specific sensory details while still leaving space for uncertainty and interpretation.

Contrast this with the second version, which doesn’t trust the reader at all. It repeatedly interrupts itself to explain what everything means and why it matters, draining the tension and making the voice feel performative.

Craft takeaway
When you’re tempted to explain why a detail matters, cut the explanation and strengthen the detail instead. A concrete image (like the unexpected weight of the envelope) will carry far more tension than a sentence telling the reader it’s important.

Here are some practical tips to help you control your foreshadowing:

Plant early and pay off later
Introduce details long before they become important, rather than in the moment of revelation. That way no one will be able to accuse you of unearned writing – whereby the outcomes, emotions or revelations aren’t justified by what’s come before, making them feel unconvincing to the reader.

Look ordinary at first mention
Effective foreshadowing detail looks like ordinary but interesting detail at first mention, but gains further meaning later.

Vary the level of clarity
Some of your foreshadowing details can be obvious in hindsight, giving your reader an of-course moment. Others might be almost invisible until they’re re-examined. By varying the level of clarity, you avoid setting up patterns that the reader might spot.

Ensure retrospective meaning
Effective foreshadowed detail has a purpose and always earns its place later. If you put something in but it never becomes relevant, there’s a risk that you’ve unnecessarily cluttered your prose.

Track reader knowledge
Make sure you track what clues the reader has actually been shown and can reasonably remember, so that they can recognize them and accept the logic in play.

Avoid signalling too loudly
If the reader can guess the outcome too early because your foreshadowing signals are noisy, you’ll turn an opportunity for suspense into confirmation. The key with good foreshadowing is to ensure it’s both subtle and relevant.

Foreshadowing is not about hiding information or predicting outcomes in advance, but about shaping how readers interpret information over time.

The most effective foreshadowing often feels like ordinary detail in the moment, and then becomes meaningful in hindsight. But even more explicit foreshadowing that hints at a future dramatic event needs to hold back so that there’s space for the reader’s curiosity and anticipation.
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Do your best not to overexplain too early. That way you’ll preserve the tension and suspense.

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.

• Get in touch: Louise Harnby | Crime Fiction & Thriller Editor
• Connect: X @LouiseHarnby, Facebook and LinkedIn
• Learn: Books and courses
• Discover: Resources for authors and editors

Learn how to use red herrings to create believable false conclusions, deepen mystery structure, and keep readers confidently wrong at just the right moments.

• What is a red herring?
• What’s the difference between a red herring and controlled misdirection?
  
• Writing red herrings: The golden rules
  
• What a red herring is not: Common misconceptions (with examples)
  

A red herring is a storytelling device that introduces information that appears to support a plausible explanation, but ultimately leads to the wrong conclusion.
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Bear in mind that red herrings are not always limited to characters or their motives. Some writers construct them around how an entire fictional world works.

I like to separate red herrings from the idea of controlled misdirection because a red herring feels heavier.

While it does involve misdirection, it works by building a false but plausible explanatory path that steers the reader towards an incorrect conclusion, only to collapse later under the weight of the real solution. This not only delays the reader’s understanding, but also forces them to construct a competing narrative that appears to solve the mystery … until it doesn’t.
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Sometimes writers like to introduce other points of misdirection that are less weighty. These focus not on shaping the conclusion, but how information is interpreted in the moment. These are what I call ‘controlled misdirection’.

>> Find out more about controlled misdirection here.

Key distinction
At their core, the difference is this:

Controlled misdirection shapes how the reader interprets information, while red herrings construct a complete but ultimately false explanation.

In practice, both can appear alongside each other in crime fiction. They’re just operating slightly differently.

All effective red herrings should be:

• believable: The false lead must feel like a genuinely viable explanation. It should align with genre expectations and established patterns of behaviour or evidence.

• relevant-seeming: A red herring should feel connected to the central mystery. If it feels random or unrelated, readers will dismiss it rather than engage with it.

• supported by surface evidence: There must be enough apparent justification to make the conclusion feel earned at the time. Coincidence alone won’t be convincing.

• coherent as a theory: The red herring should form a complete, internally consistent explanation, even if it’s ultimately wrong.

• integrated into the story’s logic: It should arise naturally from the world of the story rather than feel artificially inserted for the purpose of misleading the reader.

• timely: Introduce it early enough that it can function as a competing explanation, not as a late, shoehorned-in distraction from the real solution.

• emotionally plausible: Red herrings often work well when they tap into familiar motives like jealousy, greed, revenge, panic and so on.

• resolvable: Every red herring must eventually be dismantled or explained so that the reader understands exactly why it was misleading.​

Here’s what a red herring is not ...

It’s not controlled misdirection (according to my framework)
Controlled misdirection uses true information that’s misinterpreted. A red herring may include this, but its defining feature is the construction of a complete but ultimately false explanation.

It’s not a twist
Twists are sudden, unexpected revelations that reshape a reader’s interpretation of earlier events and alter their understanding of the story. In short, they resolve uncertainty, whereas red herrings prolong it by sending the reader down the wrong path.

It’s not foreshadowing
Foreshadowing plants early clues or hints that later gain meaning, while a red herring builds a complete but false path that’s later exposed as untrue.

It’s not factual deception
A red herring does not mislead the reader about facts. Instead, it misleads them about the explanation those facts appear to support.
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It’s not withholding
Withholding is about timing – when information is revealed. A red herring is about what explanation the reader is encouraged to believe, not when information appears.

Here’s a simple framework for constructing effective red herrings, followed by a couple of examples of the mechanism in practice.

1. The setup: A plausible false path is introduced: A suspect, motive or explanation is presented with enough surface evidence to feel credible.
2. The reinforcement: The false theory gains support: Additional details reinforce the path, creating a coherent narrative.
3. The commitment: The reader adopts the theory: The explanation becomes emotionally and logically satisfying enough to feel ‘solved’.
4. The collapse: The truth invalidates the path: New information reveals the explanation cannot account for key facts.

Below are a couple of examples from two published novels. I’ve framed the analyses broadly so that they focus on the mechanisms rather than any plot details. However, if these books are on your reading list, perhaps come back to this article when you’ve devoured the novels. That way, you’ll enter those fictional worlds completely green.

These examples show how the same underlying mechanism can operate at different levels: worldbuilding in one case, and character psychology in another.

Example 1: The Bedlam Stacks, by Natasha Pulley 
Pulley’s novel is a smashing example of how a red herring can go beyond suspects and be structural, working on how the story’s world works.

The setup

• The story introduces a remote, unfamiliar setting with unusual environmental and cultural conditions that appear to follow an initially unfamiliar but still seemingly explainable logic. 

The reinforcement

• The reader (alongside the protagonist) forms a working explanation of how the environment, local phenomena and events are functioning based on incomplete early information.

The commitment

• The explanatory path feels convincing because it’s supported by consistent observable information, partial knowledge and familiar real-world assumptions.

The collapse

• As the story progresses, readers discover that they need to revise their initial understanding of earlier events and observations. 

Example 2: Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn
Flynn’s novel is an excellent example of layered red herrings based around people and psychology.

The setup

• The story presents a missing-person case within a marriage, framed through competing accounts of events, behaviour and relationship history.

The reinforcement

• The reader forms shifting but coherent theories about what happened, with a particular focus on one character as the most likely cause of the central event.

The commitment

• Each explanatory path feels convincing at the time because it’s supported by selective evidence, emotionally persuasive testimony and apparently consistent behavioural patterns.

The collapse

• As new information is introduced, earlier theories are repeatedly invalidated or reframed, forcing the reader to abandon their previous conclusions in favour of new ones.

A strong red herring should distract the reader’s attention, but it must do so in a way that makes them believe in what is a complete and  convincing explanation of the mystery, even though it will ultimately prove false.
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The key is to stick to the golden rules so that readers are confidently wrong, but for the right reasons. 

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.

• Get in touch: Louise Harnby | Crime Fiction & Thriller Editor
• Connect: X @LouiseHarnby, Facebook and LinkedIn
• Learn: Books and courses
• Discover: Resources for authors and editors