I want to talk about how I self-edit my thrillers. My first draft? It’s a mess, plain and simple. I’ve gotten the story down, fleshed out my characters, and navigated the wild jungle of my imagination. But honestly, it’s probably a bloated beast, its suspense flattened by unnecessary detours and its tension loosened by fuzzy language.
This is where the real work begins for me: the merciless, yet oddly exhilarating, process of self-editing. This isn’t just about finding typos; it’s about taking my narrative apart, making its strengths shine, and getting rid of anything that doesn’t constantly push the reader forward. I’m going to share some strategies that help me turn my rough manuscript into a lean, mean, suspense-generating machine.
The Mindset of the Master Editor: Detachment and Precision
Before I dive into the tiny details, I always make sure I’m in the right frame of mind. I’m no longer just the creator; I’m also my first, and toughest, reader.
The Cold Read: Gaining Perspective
I step away from my manuscript for at least a week, sometimes longer. I let the story cool down. When I come back, I read it as if it’s the very first time I’m seeing it. I don’t read with a pen in hand, ready to make changes. I just read. I look for where my attention drifts, where I get confused, where the tension drops. I try to make mental notes of these spots. This big-picture read often reveals structural problems that I might otherwise miss.
The Surgical Approach: Precision Over Perfection
For me, self-editing isn’t about making everything “perfect.” It’s about making everything work. Every single word, every sentence, every paragraph has to earn its place. If it doesn’t build character, move the plot forward, or crank up the tension, I question why it’s there.
Phase 1: The Macro Edit – Sharpening the Narrative Spine
This is all about the big picture for me: plot, pacing, character arcs, and the overall tension.
1. Plot Pacing: The Relentless Drive
Thrillers, for me, live and die by their pace. My story needs to feel like a runaway train, not a leisurely stroll.
- Identifying Sagging Sections: Where does the narrative drag? Is it a super long explanation, a scene that repeats itself, or dialogue that doesn’t advance the plot or tell me anything new about a character?
- Here’s an example: My protagonist spends three chapters agonizing over a decision that could easily be made in a paragraph. What I do: I condense that internal monologue. I show the deliberation through actions or reactions, not endless thoughts.
- Compressing Time: Can I tighten the timeline of events? Unnecessary time jumps or long periods between crucial moments can really water down the tension.
- Here’s an example: A character takes days to travel to a key location, and nothing important happens during that time. What I do: I shorten the travel time, or I inject it with new conflict or clues.
- Front-Loading the Stakes: I make sure the main conflict and what’s at stake are clear from the very beginning, or at least powerfully hinted at. The reader needs to know what’s on the line early on.
- Here’s an example: The villain’s terrifying plan isn’t revealed until halfway through the book. What I do: I provide early, unsettling glimpses of the threat, even if I hide the full scope.
2. Tension and Suspense: The Unseen Thread
This is the absolute lifeblood of my thriller. Every scene has to contribute to building or releasing tension.
- Escalation Everywhere: Does my tension always escalate? Each scene should raise the stakes, introduce a new complication, or deepen a mystery.
- Here’s an example: A detective interviews a suspect, but the interview reveals nothing new or surprising. What I do: The interview must reveal a new clue, introduce a red herring, or expose the suspect’s sinister nature.
- Imminent Threat: I keep the threat immediate and palpable. Even in quiet moments, the shadow of danger needs to loom.
- Here’s an example: After a narrow escape, the protagonist spends two chapters recovering without any new threat appearing. What I do: I introduce a new clue that puts them back in danger, or I have the villain send a chilling message.
- The Unanswered Question: I try to end chapters or scenes with questions, cliffhangers, or shocking revelations. This is what makes a reader turn the page.
- Here’s an example: A chapter ends with the protagonist solving a minor puzzle. What I do: I end it with that puzzle revealing a deeper, more dangerous mystery.
- Pacing Shifts: Varying my pacing is crucial. Long stretches of high action can be exhausting. I insert moments of reprieve – brief ones – where tension builds through anticipation or psychological dread rather than physical peril.
- Here’s an example: A car chase lasts ten pages. What I do: After the physical chase, I shift to the psychological aftermath, with the protagonist realizing they’re being hunted, the immediate danger over but the dread amplified.
3. Character Arcs: Driving the Narrative Forward
Even in my plot-driven thrillers, characters have to evolve. Their internal struggles often mirror the external conflict.
- Clarity of Motivation: Is my protagonist’s motivation absolutely clear? Do their actions consistently come from it? If their goals are muddy, their struggles will be too.
- Here’s an example: The hero initially seeks revenge, but then inexplicably shifts to protecting a stranger without a clear reason. What I do: I provide a pivotal moment or revelation that definitively shifts their priorities and motivations.
- The Flaw and the Growth: I identify my protagonist’s central flaw. Does the plot force them to confront and overcome it? Does their character arc contribute to the story’s resolution?
- Here’s an example: A jaded detective remains jaded and unchanged, despite facing many moral quandaries. What I do: I have a specific incident force them to confront their cynicism, leading to a tangible shift in their worldview or actions.
- Antagonist’s Blueprint: Is my villain’s motivation compelling, even if twisted? Are their methods clear? A well-defined villain elevates the hero and the stakes.
- Here’s an example: The villain is evil just “because.” What I do: I give the villain a believable, albeit warped, backstory or philosophy that explains their horrific actions.
4. Red Herrings and Plot Twists: Masterful Misdirection
The best thrillers always surprise me.
- Subtlety in Misdirection: Red herrings should be believable but ultimately incorrect. They shouldn’t feel arbitrary.
- Here’s an example: A new character is introduced solely to be a red herring, with no other purpose in the story. What I do: I integrate the red herring into the story naturally; perhaps a character who appears suspicious has a perfectly innocent, yet complex, reason for their actions.
- The Earned Twist: A plot twist must be foreshadowed, however subtly. The reader should be able to look back and say, “Ah, I should have seen that!” not “Where did that come from?”
- Here’s an example: A critical plot twist relies on information that was never introduced or hinted at. What I do: I sprinkle in subtle clues: a strange glance, an offhand comment, a seemingly insignificant object that gains new meaning post-twist.
Phase 2: The Micro Edit – Refining the Narrative Fabric
Now, I dive into the sentence level, polishing my language, strengthening imagery, and getting rid of clutter.
1. Word Choice: Precision and Impact
Every single word counts for me.
- Active Voice Dominance: I prioritize active voice. It’s direct, powerful, and moves the action forward.
- Here’s an example (Passive): “The door was opened by her.” What I do (Active): “She opened the door.”
- Strong Verbs, Fewer Adverbs: I choose specific, evocative verbs rather than relying on weak verbs propped up by adverbs.
- Here’s an example (Weak): “He walked quickly across the room.” What I do (Strong): “He scurried/dashed/rushed across the room.”
- Eliminate Redundancy and Filler Words: I scrutinize words like “just,” “very,” “really,” “that,” “begin to,” “start to.” Often, they add no value.
- Here’s an example (Redundant): “He absolutely and truly meant what he said.” What I do (Concise): “He meant what he said.”
- Here’s an example (Filler): “She began to run.” What I do (Concise): “She ran.”
2. Sensory Details: Immersive Experience
Thrillers demand immediacy. I engage all five senses to pull the reader into the scene with me.
- Show, Don’t Tell: Instead of stating a character is afraid, I describe their racing heart, sweaty palms, the metallic taste of fear.
- Here’s an example (Telling): “She was scared.” What I do (Showing): “Her breath caught, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. The cloying scent of dust and mildew filled her nostrils, making her gag.”
- Targeted Descriptions: I don’t describe everything. I focus on details that heighten the mood, reveal character, or advance the plot.
- Here’s an example: Describing every piece of furniture in a room when only one item is relevant. What I do: I highlight the flickering fluorescent light, the bloodstain on the floor, the open window – details that amplify the suspense.
3. Dialogue: Authentic and Purposeful
Dialogue in my thrillers is rarely idle chatter. It reveals character, advances plot, provides exposition, or builds tension.
- Subtext and Conflict: What’s not being said is often as important as what is. Dialogue should often carry underlying tension or unanswered questions.
- Here’s an example: Characters state facts flatly. What I do: I infuse dialogue with suspicion, hesitation, veiled threats, or contradictory statements.
- Unique Voices: Can I tell who’s speaking without the tag? Each character should have a distinct speech pattern, vocabulary, and rhythm.
- Here’s an example: All characters speak in the same formal, articulate manner. What I do: I vary vocabulary, add slang, incorporate stutters, or distinctive verbal tics to differentiate.
- Trim Dialogue Tags: I use “said” or “asked.” I avoid distracting tags like “ejaculated,” “intoned,” “blurted out” unless they provide crucial information about delivery. Often, action beats can replace tags entirely.
- Here’s an example (Over-tagged): “‘I’m warning you,’ he thundered, his eyes flashing angrily.” What I do (Concise): “‘I’m warning you.’ He slammed his fist on the table.”
4. Sentence Structure and Flow: Rhythmic Storytelling
Varying sentence length and structure keeps my reader engaged.
- Mix It Up: A string of short, choppy sentences creates urgency. Long, complex sentences can slow the pace, build anticipation, or convey intricate thoughts.
- Here’s an example: Every sentence is short and declarative. What I do: I introduce longer, more descriptive sentences to build atmosphere, then cut sharply to a short, impactful one for a sudden revelation.
- Paragraph Breaks: I break up lengthy paragraphs. Shorter paragraphs increase readability and can visually speed up the pace.
- Here’s an example: Pages of unbroken text. What I do: I use paragraph breaks to introduce new speakers, shifts in focus, or changes in action.
5. Point of View (POV): The Lens of Experience
Consistency and strategic shifts are crucial.
- Avoid Head-Hopping: If I’m in a character’s POV, I stay there. I don’t jump into another character’s thoughts within the same scene or even paragraph. This just disorients the reader.
- Here’s an example: From the detective’s thoughts, suddenly the villain’s motives are revealed, then back to the detective’s. What I do: I stick to one character’s limited perspective per scene or section, revealing other characters’ thoughts only through their actions or dialogue.
- Strategic POV Shifts: If I use multiple POVs, I make sure each character contributes uniquely to the unfolding suspense. Their limited knowledge should build tension, not confusion.
- Here’s an example: A character’s POV adds no new information or perspective, simply repeating what has already been shown. What I do: Every POV shift must offer a fresh angle, a new clue, or a different layer of the mystery.
Phase 3: The Polish – The Final Scrutiny
This is where I make my manuscript shine.
1. Checking for Consistency and Accuracy:
- Character Details: Names, eye color, habits, skills, even quirks. Are they consistent throughout?
- Plot Details: Are clues consistent? Do timelines align? Are locations accurately described?
- Facts: If I reference real-world details (e.g., police procedures, weapon types, geographical locations), are they accurate? Inaccuracies can really throw a reader out of the story.
2. Beginnings and Endings:
- Compelling Openings: Does my opening hook the reader immediately? Does it plunge them into conflict or a captivating mystery?
- Here’s an example: The story opens with a leisurely description of a character’s morning routine. What I do: I start with an inciting incident, a shocking discovery, or an immediate threat.
- Satisfying Closures: Does my ending deliver on the promises made by the plot? Is the central conflict resolved, leaving the reader with a sense of closure, perhaps with a lingering hint of future possibilities?
- Here’s an example: The villain is defeated, but the protagonist’s personal arc is left unresolved. What I do: I ensure both the external conflict and the protagonist’s internal journey reach a satisfying, albeit not necessarily “happy,” conclusion.
3. Reading Aloud:
This is such a valuable step for me when catching awkward phrasing, repetitive sounds, and clunky sentences that I’d miss just scanning with my eyes. I can hear the rhythm, or lack thereof. I identify where my reader might stumble.
The Iterative Process: Repeat and Refine
Self-editing isn’t a one-and-done process for me. It’s iterative. I’ll move from macro to micro, then back to macro to ensure the changes I made at the micro level haven’t created new issues at the larger scale. I might do multiple passes focusing on different elements: one pass for pacing, another for dialogue, another for tension.
My thriller, once just a collection of ideas and words, emerges from this rigorous process a finely tuned instrument of suspense. It grips my reader from the first line and doesn’t release them until the final, breathless page. This disciplined, detail-oriented approach is what I believe makes a successful thriller writer. My commitment to this brutal, beautiful process will be the difference between a published manuscript and a truly unforgettable story.