Writing a mystery novel: how to plot the crime, clues and reveal

How to write a mystery novel: solve the crime first, build a sleuth and suspects, plant fair clues and red herrings, then outline backward to the reveal.

By Strokes Team · · 13 min read

Key takeaways

  • Solve the crime before you write it: culprit, motive, means, opportunity and the cover story the culprit wants believed.
  • In a fair-play mystery the reader sees every clue the detective uses before the reveal, and luck doesn't solve the case.
  • Give every false suspect a true secret, so their guilty behavior still makes sense once they are cleared.
  • Outline backward: write what really happened, then decide the order in which the detective finds it out.
A detective's desk on a rainy evening under a green banker's lamp: a corkboard of four suspects' portraits, a footprint and a key, all strung with red thread to a photo of a spilled teacup, and below it a magnifying glass over a photo of a manor, an open notebook with a timeline sketched across it, a pen, a fedora and a steaming mug.
Every clue is on the desk before the reveal. The craft is making the reader look at the wrong one first.
Table of contents
  1. What a mystery promises readers
  2. Write a mystery in eight steps
  3. Plant clues readers can find
  4. Suspects, alibis and red herrings
  5. Play fair with the reader
  6. Structure: where the turns go
  7. Write the reveal
  8. Common mystery writing mistakes
  9. Frequently asked questions

To write a mystery novel, solve the crime before you write a word: decide who did it, how and why, and what story the culprit wants everyone to believe. Then work backward. Plant the clues that point to the truth where a careful reader could find them, give the other suspects secrets that make them look guilty, and end with a reveal that explains every clue the reader has already seen.

What a mystery promises readers

A mystery turns on a question about the past: who committed the crime, how and why. A detective, professional or amateur, investigates, the reader investigates alongside, and the ending answers the question in a way that makes sense of everything before it. Poe's “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1841) is usually called the first modern detective story, and Mystery Writers of America names its Edgar Awards after him.

The form rests on one move: a clue the reader sees and misreads. In Agatha Christie's first novel, the narrator, Hastings, reports a habit of Poirot's, and much later Poirot tells him what it meant:

A clue disguised as a habit

…where he stood abstractedly fingering the ornaments, and straightening them—a trick of his when he was agitated.

I had straightened all the objects on the mantelpiece.

Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920), Chapters IV and XIII
On first readingAt the reveal
What the reader seesOn first readingPoirot straightening the ornaments at the scene of the crime, as he does when agitatedAt the revealHe had already straightened them that morning, so when they needed it again, someone had touched them
What it seems to meanOn first readingComedy: a fussy little manAt the revealSomething was hidden there in between
Where it pointsOn first readingNowhereAt the revealThe missing letter, twisted into spills in the vase on the mantelpiece
One detail, read twice. A fair clue sits in plain sight and gets filed under the wrong heading.

The rest of this guide serves that double reading: a crime solved before you write it, suspects who draw the eye, and a reveal that sends readers back to what they skimmed.

A thriller asks the opposite question: whether the hero can stop a threat the reader can see coming. Mysteries borrow its tension (see suspense in writing), but what they promise is a solution readers could, in principle, reach themselves. Debut mysteries usually run about 70,000 to 100,000 words, with cozies at the shorter end (see word counts by genre).

Choose a mystery subgenre

SubgenreWhat readers expectTouchstones
SubgenreCozyWhat readers expectAn amateur sleuth, a small community, violence offstageTouchstonesChristie's Miss Marple, from The Murder at the Vicarage (1930); Richard Osman's The Thursday Murder Club (2020)
SubgenreClassic whodunitWhat readers expectA closed circle of suspects and a reveal that names oneTouchstonesChristie's The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920); Anthony Horowitz's Magpie Murders (2016)
SubgenreLocked roomWhat readers expectA crime that looks impossibleTouchstonesPoe's “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1841); John Dickson Carr's The Hollow Man (1935)
SubgenrePolice proceduralWhat readers expectReal method, a team, paperwork and politicsTouchstonesEd McBain's Cop Hater (1956); Tana French's In the Woods (2007)
SubgenrePrivate eyeWhat readers expectA detective for hire and corruption that goes higher than the crimeTouchstonesDashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon (1930); Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep (1939)
SubgenreHistoricalWhat readers expectA past era whose rules shape the crime and the investigationTouchstonesEllis Peters's A Morbid Taste for Bones (1977); Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose (1980)
SubgenreInvertedWhat readers expectThe crime comes first; the question is how the detective will catch the culpritTouchstonesR. Austin Freeman's The Singing Bone (1912); TV's Columbo
Subgenres overlap. Pick the one your cover and query letter will lead with.

Write a mystery in eight steps

The steps follow one original case: an orchard owner's death in the Hudson Valley at the end of the apple harvest.

  1. Choose the subgenre and read it

    Read five recent books in it. Note where the crime happens, how many suspects there are and how the solution is explained. That is the contract you are signing.

  2. Solve the crime first

    Write a crime card: victim, culprit, motive, means, opportunity and the cover story, which is what the culprit wants everyone to believe. The investigation takes that story apart.

    A crime card
    • Victim: Walt Hollis, 71, owner of Hollis Orchard, found at 6:10 on Sunday morning at the foot of the press-house stairs.
    • Culprit and motive: his daughter-in-law Marian, who keeps the books. Walt found loan papers she had signed in his name and said he was taking them to the bank.
    • Means and opportunity: one shove at the top of the stairs, between 10:40 and 11 on Saturday night. She walked through the orchard and left her car at the store.
    • Cover story: an old man carried a crate down unlit stairs and fell.
    Original example, written for this guide.
  3. Write the true timeline

    List what really happened, minute by minute, from the moment the crime became inevitable to the discovery of the body. Every clue comes from this timeline, so every clue agrees with every other.

  4. Build a detective with a reason and a method

    Give the detective a reason to investigate that nobody can take away, a method that grows out of who they are, and something to lose. Show the method early: in Arthur Conan Doyle's A Study in Scarlet (1887), Holmes has barely shaken Watson's hand before he says, “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.” Our detective, Walt's granddaughter Nell, is a court reporter who remembers exact words.

  5. Cast three to five suspects

    Each needs a motive, an opportunity and a secret that makes them act guilty. Fill in a character profile for each, with one extra line: what they are hiding.

  6. Map the clues and red herrings

    Make a clue table: for every fact the reveal uses, note where the reader first sees it, how it is disguised and when it returns. Each is a Chekhov's gun, hung long before it goes off, and the foreshadowing examples show the planting techniques.

  7. Outline backward from the reveal

    Start from the final scene and ask what the detective must know to get there, then what they need before that. You get the last clue, the wrong solution, the midpoint turn and the first questions. Hang them on a shape from the plot diagram guide and list the chapters in a novel outline.

  8. Draft, then test the solution

    Draft forward. Then give two or three beta readers the manuscript without its last chapters and ask who did it, and why. If none of them comes close, the key clues may be buried too deep; if all of them name the culprit by the midpoint, they may be too loud. A right guess for the wrong reason tells you as much as a wrong one.

Plant clues readers can find

A fair clue is seen and not understood. The reader looks right at it and files it under character, comedy or grief. Christie's mantelpiece, at the top of this guide, is the first classic disguise: a habit. Three more:

Make it an absence

The dog in the night-time

“Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?”
“To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.”
“The dog did nothing in the night-time.”
“That was the curious incident,” remarked Sherlock Holmes.

Arthur Conan Doyle, “Silver Blaze” (1892)

A racehorse is taken from its stable at night and the stable dog never barks, so “the midnight visitor was some one whom the dog knew well.” An absence leaves nothing on the page to notice, so it stays fair only if every fact needed to see the gap is already there.

Hide the person, not the object

In G. K. Chesterton's “The Invisible Man” (1911), watchers swear that nobody went into a building where a man is then murdered. Father Brown's answer: “Nobody ever notices postmen somehow.” The killer came and went in uniform. Readers, like witnesses, overlook people in roles: the waiter, the nurse, the driver. The rules below say the criminal must appear early. Chesterton has him appear as part of the furniture.

Bury it in a list

The deputy's inventory

In his pockets: a ring of eleven keys, a pocketknife with a broken tip, a roll of antacids, two dollars in quarters, his reading glasses folded in the shirt pocket, and a seed-company pencil worn to a stub.

Original example, written for this guide.

The glasses come fifth of six, where the eye slides. But Walt wore them only to read, so he had been reading something in the press house at night, and no papers were found by the body.

Suspects, alibis and red herrings

A red herring is a false lead, and the best ones are honest: the suspect really is hiding something, just not the crime. The orchard case's cast:

SuspectMotiveWhy they look guiltyWhat they're hiding
SuspectDale Kessler, the neighborMotiveWants to buy the orchardWhy they look guiltyHis truck was at the gate at 10 p.m., and he denies itWhat they're hidingHe had been drinking, with one DUI already
SuspectCody Hollis, the grandsonMotiveInherits a shareWhy they look guiltyAsked Walt for money and lies about where he sleptWhat they're hidingHe quit college in September
SuspectRick Hollis, the sonMotiveInherits most of itWhy they look guiltyOwes money on equipment loansWhat they're hidingNothing: he was at a trade show in Rochester
SuspectMarian Hollis, the daughter-in-lawMotiveHidden: the forged loansWhy they look guiltyNothing at first. She comforts everyoneWhat they're hidingThe crime
An original cast. Each false suspect's secret explains everything suspicious they do.

When the truth comes out, Dale's and Cody's lies still make sense, so clearing them feels earned. Rick is cleared early, which tells readers this book checks alibis. Treat every alibi as a clue: the culprit's should survive the first look and fail on a detail the reader has seen. Marian's car never left the store lot. That's true. She walked.

Play fair with the reader

Fair play is a promise to the reader rather than a rule book: every fact the solution depends on reaches the page before the reveal, and the detective gets there by reasoning, not luck. Ellery Queen's The Roman Hat Mystery (1929) makes the promise out loud, stopping before the solution with a “Challenge to the Reader,” who is now “in possession of all the pertinent facts.” Your test: after the reveal, can a reader find every clue the detective used, on the page where the detective found it?

If the chapters sit in one Strokes project, you can attach the clue table to the Strokes Assistant and ask it to review the draft against it: a clue the reveal relies on that never appears, or one that turns up only after the detective has used it.

The golden-age rules, read as history

In the golden age of detective fiction, the 1920s and 1930s, writers argued in print about cheating. S. S. Van Dine published “Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories” in The American Magazine in September 1928. In 1929 Ronald Knox, a priest and detective novelist, set down ten commandments, and members of the Detection Club, formed by British crime writers in 1930, agreed to follow them. Read them as period documents: most protect the reader's chance to solve the case, and one is plain prejudice.

Knox's rule (1929)What it protects today
Knox's rule (1929)1. The criminal appears early, and is not someone whose thoughts the reader has followedWhat it protects todayThe culprit is a character, and the viewpoint doesn't lie
Knox's rule (1929)2. “All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course.”What it protects todayThe solution obeys the book's own rules
Knox's rule (1929)3. “Not more than one secret room or passage is allowable.”What it protects todayImpossible crimes need ingenuity, not architecture
Knox's rule (1929)4. “No hitherto undiscovered poisons may be used.”What it protects todayReaders can follow the method
Knox's rule (1929)5. A rule barring Chinese characters, a product of the period's racismWhat it protects todayDrop it. The lasting lesson: no stereotype as a shortcut to suspicion
Knox's rule (1929)6. “No accident must ever help the detective,” and no lucky intuitionWhat it protects todayThe detective earns the solution
Knox's rule (1929)7. “The detective himself must not commit the crime.”What it protects todayThe investigation readers trust is real
Knox's rule (1929)8. “The detective is bound to declare any clues which he may discover.”What it protects todayReaders see what the detective sees
Knox's rule (1929)9. The Watson must not hide his thoughts, and is slightly less intelligent than the average readerWhat it protects todayThe narrator may be wrong, never secretive
Knox's rule (1929)10. No twins or doubles unless readers have been prepared for themWhat it protects todayEvery twist is set up
Knox's rules, paraphrased except where quoted.

The rules and a reader's sense of fairness don't always agree. Readers have argued since 1926 over whether Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd plays fair. Its solution breaks what became Knox's first rule, and its defenders answer that every clue is on the page. That answer is the test your own readers will apply: could I have seen it?

Structure: where the turns go

A mystery tells two stories. The crime happens first and is told last. The investigation is told forward, and its turns are the moments when the reader's best theory breaks. Styles has 13 chapters, about 8% of the book each:

StageWhere it fallsIn The Mysterious Affair at Styles
StageSetup: the world, the victim, the tensionsWhere it falls0–15%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesI–II: Hastings arrives; the household quarrels
StageThe crimeWhere it fallsBy 25%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesIII: Mrs. Inglethorp dies at about five in the morning
StageFirst investigationWhere it falls25–50%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesIV–VI: clues, and an inquest that points at her husband
StageMidpoint turnWhere it fallsAbout 50%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesVII: Poirot proves the husband's alibi
StageFalse leads closeWhere it falls60–75%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesVIII–X: Dr. Bauerstein is arrested, but for espionage
StageThe wrong solutionWhere it falls75–85%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesX–XI: John Cavendish is arrested and tried
StageThe last clueWhere it fallsAbout 90%In The Mysterious Affair at StylesXII: “The Last Link”
StageThe revealWhere it fallsFinal chapterIn The Mysterious Affair at StylesXIII: “Poirot Explains”
Placement as a share of the book. Chapter titles from the 1920 text.

Christie keeps readers' first theory alive for half the book and kills it at the midpoint, which forces them to sort the suspects again. Then she puts a wrong solution, a man in the dock, just before the right one, so the reveal corrects a mistake readers made alongside the police. A short denouement then settles what the crime broke.

Write the reveal

The reveal walks readers back through clues they have already seen, in the order that builds the case. Use the cover story as its spine, show where each piece breaks, and end on the clue readers could most easily have caught. Don't lean on a confession: the proof should already be in the explanation.

Three clues, recalled

“Your car never left the store lot,” Nell said. “That's true. But the orchard path to the press house is eleven minutes on foot, and on Sunday morning there were burrs all down the back of your coat.”

She put the deputy's list on the counter. “Grandpa only wore his reading glasses to read. So what was he reading at eleven at night, and where is it now?”

Marian said nothing.

“When Pete came up to the house, all he said was that Walt was gone, down at the press house. I was standing next to him. And you said you always told him those stairs would kill him. Nobody had said anything about the stairs.”

Original example, written for this guide.

The alibi is true but incomplete, the glasses sat in a list, and the slip came in a scene of grief, where readers attend to feeling rather than facts. The last clue rewards the method set up in step four.

Common mystery writing mistakes

  • A culprit nobody met. Naming someone introduced late tells readers they never had a chance.
  • The detective's private clue. A fact found in chapter twenty and shared only in the reveal. Share facts, keep conclusions.
  • The confession as proof. If the case works only because the culprit breaks down, the reasoning hasn't done its job.
  • No reason to stay on the case. A professional has the job. An amateur needs a reason that survives the first warning to stop.
  • Clues bunched together. Early ones get forgotten and late ones can feel like cheating. Spread them, and bring the key ones back in a different light.

Frequently asked questions

How long is a mystery novel?

The range agents most often cite for a debut mystery is about 70,000 to 100,000 words, with cozy mysteries toward the shorter end. Check recent books in your subgenre and the guidelines of the agents or publishers you plan to approach, since a debut far outside the usual range is a harder sell.

What are the rules of a fair-play mystery?

The lasting part is a promise to the reader: every clue the detective uses appears on the page before the solution, and the answer doesn't depend on luck, the supernatural or facts the reader never had. Ronald Knox's ten rules (1929) and S. S. Van Dine's twenty (1928) were golden-age versions of that promise. Some of their rules have dated, and one of Knox's is plain prejudice.

What is the difference between a mystery and a thriller?

A mystery asks what happened: who committed a crime that has already taken place, and why. A thriller asks what will happen: whether the hero can stop a threat the reader usually knows about. Mysteries reward reasoning, and thrillers trade on danger and speed. Many books combine the two.

How many suspects should a mystery have?

Three to five main suspects is a common choice: enough to keep readers guessing and few enough to remember. Each needs a motive, an opportunity and a secret that explains their suspicious behavior. A closed-circle whodunit can carry more if every suspect has a distinct voice and reason.

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