Long ago (or so it feels) I discussed writing a mystery without a murder in it (Writing a Mystery Without Murder In My Heart). I said, at that time, that while I loved reading murder mysteries and watching them on television, somehow writing a murder felt different.

Later on, however, I made further attempts at writing a murder mystery, and eventually wrote Alibis and Aspidistras, a cozy (murder) mystery. Trying to work out the details of the fictional killing still feels awkward, but as long I don’t have to make the death too realistic, I can write it and enjoy it.

Why am I bringing this up again? Recently I had the opportunity to be interviewed by Meredith Rankin for her Substack on crime fiction. ( “Meet Author Samantha Cornwell” –I really should have posted this link last week–my bad.) One of the things that interests her is people’s attitudes toward writing and thinking about murder, as she discusses in a different post “My so-called obsession with murder”, and I found myself thinking hard about this question again.

I’ve heard it suggested that the reason mysteries usually involve a murder is because murder presents higher stakes than any other crime, and that probably is part of the reason. Still, the importance of any particular stakes in a novel depends a lot on the context–in a novel set in a college, plagiarism could loom large. In fact, almost all motives for fictional murders feel like high stakes to the villain–that’s why they’re willing to kill someone.

To have a mystery, though, there must be questions. Who did it? Why? How? Some crimes allow for this–who stole the ruby? How did they get it out of the house unseen?–while other crimes don’t offer much mystery once the crime is recognized. If a published article turns out to be plagiarized, we probably know who and how, though perhaps not why.

What about true crimes? I don’t normally read that, but in reading a book about poisons, I did read several accounts of deliberate poisonings. It was interesting in a sobering kind of way, a way that reminds me what people are capable of. I am sometimes too inclined to assume that people are basically okay, and shocked when something reminds me of how dark people’s actions can really be. Meredith makes the point (in the second post I listed) that thinking about crimes can make us more aware of how we might be vulnerable.

I wonder if I can make use of that–the idea that a story can make us more aware of our vulnerabilities–in my next story. What would I particularly like to warn someone about? Writing is all about gathering ideas and finding interesting ways to incorporate them. Thank you for that thought, Meredith.

Till next post.