Five Key Elements in a Psychological Thriller

By Carol Willis

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Psychological thrillers are driven by emotion and psychological tension, focusing on the minds and behaviors of their characters. They create an atmosphere of menace through plot twists, mind games, and unreliable narrators, keeping readers in suspense with a looming sense of dread. Unlike traditional mysteries, which unravel past crimes, psychological thrillers often establish the villain early, with protagonists struggling to prevent an impending threat. While they share elements with other suspense genres, psychological thrillers stand out for their deep exploration of fear and paranoia. Below are five key elements that define this gripping genre.

Atmosphere of Menace - often characterized by setting, weather, and time of day. Think secluded cabin in the woods, a spooky gothic mansion, ominous storms and in the dark of night. Usually something external that causes anxiety and uncertainty for the main character (and the reader). 

Tension and Danger - Psychological thrillers create tension by placing ordinary characters in inescapable danger, often in familiar settings like suburbs or homes. Unlike action-packed spy thrillers, these stories upend the ordinary, revealing that the greatest threats often come from those closest to us. The protagonist—often a vulnerable yet resourceful woman—must outwit a determined villain, who is frequently a spouse or family member. By rooting fear in the familiar, these thrillers immerse readers in psychological mind games, exploring themes of trust, paranoia, and hidden dangers while gradually unveiling characters’ backstories and mental struggles.

Mind Games and Psychological Manipulation - Characters experience paranoia, gaslighting, or memory manipulation. The villain often leads the protagonist in a high stakes cat and mouse game with escalating danger. The reader is made to feel as uncertain and anxious as the protagonist.

Suspense and Twists - Suspense is how an author builds tension throughout the story. It’s necessary in any genre, but it’s absolutely vital in thriller novels. Ultimately, your goal for the reader is that they never want to put the book down. Each chapter must end with a cliffhanger or significant plot twist or important question. While action does not need to be non-stop, suspense and intrigue need to be constant. There must be a sense of urgency to keep you turning the page. Emphasis is on the eerie over the sensational. Twists again are key, with chapters routinely ending in one disturbing revelation after another. Character is more important than pacing, but pacing can’t be neglected. This subgenre demands an ability to reveal dread and panic without explosions or car chases. 

Unreliable Narrator - An unreliable narrator heightens suspense by making the reader question who they can trust. Often, it’s revealed late in the story that the protagonist suffers from post-traumatic distress, mental illness, a head injury, or drug addiction, distorting their perception of reality. As noted above, lies, paranoia, and flawed memories are common in this genre, which is why many thrillers use a first-person POV. This perspective immerses the reader in the character’s experience, building sympathy while limiting their understanding to a single, potentially deceptive viewpoint—raising the crucial question: how reliable is their version of events?

Psychological thrillers focus on suspense, fear, and the uncertainty of a future crime rather than solving a past one. Unlike traditional mysteries, where the crime has already occurred, these stories often introduce the antagonist early, with the protagonist working to prevent their next move. Common elements include an atmosphere of menace, heightened tension, and psychological mind games. The genre thrives on upending the ordinary, often featuring domestic settings where danger lurks close to home. Suspense is crucial, with chapters ending in cliffhangers or shocking revelations to keep the reader engaged. An unreliable narrator, paranoia, and flawed memories add layers of intrigue, making the reader question what is real. Character development is central, with pacing maintaining a steady build-up of dread rather than relying on constant action.

In the next essay, we’ll take a deeper dive into these five key elements, exploring how they shape psychological thrillers with examples from some of the genre’s most gripping stories. Stay tuned for a closer look at what makes these thrillers so hauntingly unforgettable.

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Carol Willis (she/her) received her MFA in Writing (fiction) from Vermont College of Fine Arts. After receiving her medical doctorate from Texas A&M and an MBA in healthcare from George Washington University, she practiced child health and pathology before moving to Central Virginia. She is the author of a psychological thriller set in Chicago, a dark domestic drama exploring marriage, career, and identity. Her short stories have been published in multiple online journals and anthologies including Valparaiso Fiction Review, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, Living Crue Magazine, Crime in Old Dominion and others.

What is A Thriller?

By Carol Willis

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After I took the plunge and quit my job as a pathologist to write full time, the first novel I ever completed for adults was a psychological thriller. It is a genre near and dear to my heart. I love reading them, and love writing them even more. What is a psychological thriller? And what makes them so compelling? 

Let’s dig in.

Thriller is a genre of literature defined by the primary mood of dread and suspense. They aim to make readers unsettled, nervous, and eager to read what happens next. All fiction should elicit some amount of stress in the reader in the form of tension and conflict, but in a thriller novel, the stress is the main feature. They often feel cinematic and involve high stakes and dramatic plot points. 

In short, if it “thrills,” it is a thriller. 

In the introduction to Thriller, a major anthology published in June 2006, James Patterson says:

Thrillers provide such a rich literary feast. There are all kinds. The legal thriller, political, spy, action-adventure, medical, military, police, romantic, historical, religious, high-tech. The list goes on and on, with new variations constantly being invented. In fact, this openness to expansion is one of the genre's most enduring characteristics. But what gives the variety of thrillers a common ground is the intensity of emotions they create, particularly those of apprehension and exhilaration, of excitement and breathlessness, all designed to generate that all-important thrill. 

In other words, if a thriller doesn't thrill, it's not doing its job.

Thriller is a hybrid of mystery and horror, sharing a literary lineage with the epic and myth. Monsters, terror, and peril prevail. They are dark suspenseful plot-driven stories. 

In his excellent 2019 article for Writer’s Digest entitled, “The Differences Between a Crime, Mystery, and Thriller Novel” David Corbett again emphasizes the emotion: Of the three major suspense genres, thrillers are typically the most emotional, focusing on the fear, doubt, and dread of the hero as she faces some form of what Dean Koontz has deemed “terrible trouble.” 

There are many elements to thrillers that overlap with other novels of mystery and suspense but typically with an exaggerated atmosphere of menace and sudden violence, such as crime and often murder. A devastating crime is about to be committed or has been committed with the threat of another one looming. The villain is known, but his guilt is not certain—or the hero cannot accept the truth of his guilt. Uncertainty and doubt enhance the suspense.

The tension usually arises when the main character(s) is placed in a dangerous situation, and we spend the rest of the novel waiting to see if they’ll escape. Themes typically emphasize the dangerous world we live in, the vulnerability of the average person, and the inherent threat of the unknown. 

Thrillers can take place in exotic settings—think geopolitical and many spy thrillers—but most take place in ordinary suburbs and cities. The main character, the hero, is usually tough and resourceful, but essentially an ordinary person who is pitted against a villain determined to destroy them, their country, or the stability of society. 

Suspense is how an author builds tension throughout the story. It’s necessary in any genre, but it’s absolutely vital in thrillers. Ultimately, your goal for the reader is that they never want to put the book down. Each chapter ends with a cliffhanger, urgent question, or significant plot twist. And the plot must have high stakes. The characters must have a lot on the line—it needs to really matter they succeed. 

In a thriller, the plot should be driven by one big, important question. Think Chris Whitaker’s All the Colors from the Dark. The story begins when Patch is abducted when he is a young boy and held captive in a darkened room along with another young girl, Grace. Patch eventually escapes but spends the rest of his life searching for Grace. It is a complex, multilayered mystery involving missing persons, child kidnapping, and a serial killer weaving several plots lines, each with their own twist, but it is Patch’s quest that becomes the central question that drives much of the suspense throughout the novel. Who was Grace and what happened to her? 

While action does not need to be non-stop, suspense and intrigue need to be constant. There must be a sense of urgency to keep you turning the page.

This basic story structure emphasizes the importance of reader expectations: There is a distinct hero and a villain. The attack on the hero is relentless with escalating terror and dread. The hero must be vulnerable—not just physically but psychologically. 

So, what is a psychological thriller and what makes them different from other types of thrillers? 

The biggest questions revolve around the minds and behavior of the main characters. Common elements in include plot twists, psychology, obsession, and mind games. They incorporate elements of mystery and include themes of crime, morality, mental illness, substance abuse, multiple realities, and unreliable narrators. 

A psychological thriller finds the terror in madness and paranoia. Here the threat is diabolical but more contained, even intimate—usually targeting the protagonist and/or his family—and the hero is often relatively ordinary. 

It is the upending of our prosaic circumstances that disconcert us the most. This is why many psychological thrillers are domestic dramas set in the home, threatening our most cherished relationships such as husband and wife, mother and daughter, or sister and sister. The protagonist (and the reader) come to think if we are not safe in our own home, we must not be safe anywhere.  

Psychological thrillers generally, but not always, stay away from elements of fantasy or science fiction, focusing on events that could take place in real life. However, with advances in medical science and robotics, and the rise of AI, this is changing. Near-future psychological thrillers involving clones or robots gone awry can be eerily convincing. 

In summary, like all good stories, it comes down to setting and character with a problem. The reader must care about what happens next. Psychological thrillers are highly emotional and revolve around the minds and behavior of the main characters. Common elements in include plot twists, mind games, and unreliable narrators to create an atmosphere of menace with looming threats. They are suspenseful and filled with fear and dread to keep readers turning the page. 

In the next series of essays, I will discuss five specific elements we see in a psychological thriller. 

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Carol Willis (she/her) received her MFA in Writing (fiction) from Vermont College of Fine Arts. After receiving her medical doctorate from Texas A&M and an MBA in healthcare from George Washington University, she practiced child health and pathology before moving to Central Virginia. She is the author of a psychological thriller set in Chicago, a dark domestic drama exploring marriage, career, and identity. Her short stories have been published in multiple online journals and anthologies including Valparaiso Fiction Review, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, Living Crue Magazine, Crime in Old Dominion and others. 

Twists and Reveals: The Art of Keeping Your Readers Guessing

By Claire Cooper

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An interesting plot and intriguing characters are key ingredients to keep readers turning the pages of any work of fiction. But if you’re writing thrillers, crime, mysteries, or suspense, twists and reveals can be the secret sauce that turns a good story into a great one.

The two terms are often used interchangeably, but twists and reveals are quite different things. What are they? How do you construct them? And most importantly of all, what needs to be in place for them to work well?

The difference between twists and reveals

A reveal is just what it sounds like—new information that answers an important question. 

It might be the central question of the plot (who’s the killer?). Or it could be a nugget that brings the reader closer to solving the mystery (that dodgy guy who’s been stalking our heroine is her long-lost brother).

A reveal is essential to any whodunnit. Lucy Foley’s The Hunting Party is a classic example—there’s a cast of characters, one of whom is the murderer. The set-up has readers poring over every word, searching for clues to the killer’s identity. When it comes, the reveal is beautifully satisfying.

And while that happens at the end of the story, there are other, smaller reveals along the way. They keep things interesting, provide clues, and allow the reader to form theories about what’s happening. 

Like reveals, twists also impart information—but that’s not all. That information turns everything the reader previously thought they knew on its head.

That creates an exciting reading experience. And it also means readers will recommend your book to all their friends, because they’ll be desperate for other people to talk to about it.

Gone Girl is perhaps the most famous example of a twist in a modern psychological thriller. At the start, it reads as a well-written but conventional mystery: a woman has gone missing, her husband is under suspicion. Has he killed her?

But halfway through, we’re presented with new and shocking information. Everything we thought we knew was wrong. And we’re faced with a different set of questions to keep us reading.

Twists appear in classic crime, too. Agatha Christie’s After the Funeral has one of the most brilliantly constructed twists I’ve ever read. No spoilers: if you haven’t read it, put that right ASAP.

What is it that makes some twists and reveals work so well? And what goes wrong when they fall flat?

Writing a great reveal

Both twists and reveals play on the contract between author and reader. Some people refer to this as the “story promise,” the set-up that tells the reader what to expect if they decide to read the book.

Reveals honor that promise. Twists are an unexpected bonus (although the prevalence of twists in modern fiction means they’re not always unexpected—more on that later).

The reveal in The Hunting Party works so well because it offers readers exactly what they wanted when they started reading the book: they find out who the killer is.

Other reveals along the way answer some questions while posing others, keeping the tension high throughout. At the end, everything is resolved—and crucially, it fits together and makes sense.

That logic is essential. Part of the delight of reading a whodunnit is trying to work out the answer for ourselves. With the best books we fail, whilst knowing we could have succeeded, if only we’d spotted all the clues.

When a reveal goes wrong

When reveals fall flat, on the other hand, it’s often because new information comes out of the blue. There’s no way a reader could have worked it out. And there’s no pay-off for our concentration because nothing we’ve read until that point is relevant. We feel cheated.

The same goes for a reveal that feels implausible. While it could happen in real life, it feels too unlikely to be satisfying. It doesn’t fit comfortably with the world as it’s presented in the book.

Classic reveal fails can be guilty of one or both of these sins. Revealing that a character has an identical twin, say, or that a huge chunk of plot has been a dream—both feel like the author isn’t taking us seriously.

Yes, we know that identical twins exist; and yes, people dream. But if we haven’t been given any clues about what’s going on, the author has essentially been wasting our time. And even if the clues have been seeded, it’s hard to feel that the writer hasn’t taken an easy way out. 

The key to a successful twist

The same rules apply to a twist. It has to make sense. It has to be plausible. And it has to tie into what’s been presented before.

But with the twist, that final criterion is especially difficult to pull off. As writers, we need to lead our readers in the wrong direction, while still playing fair. Our characters can say things that aren’t true—they can be unreliable narrators. But we ourselves can never lie.

In Gone Girl, the twist is set up by the way we’re persuaded to think about the two main characters. One character reveals they’re lying to the police—they must have something to hide. We hear from the other in a context that makes it seem impossible that they’re lying.

That belief colors our interpretation of everything else. When it’s flipped on its head, we realize all our preconceptions are wrong.

The twist here works at a meta level, too. It changes our whole perception of the kind of book we’re reading. The story promise we thought we were being presented with at the beginning is something else entirely. 

That’s a risky approach. But with Gone Girl, it works because it’s so exciting. You thought you were getting something good—but you’re getting something even better.

With Agatha Christie’s After the Funeral, the twist is set up so subtly you don’t notice it’s been done. Not only are we misdirected, we congratulate ourselves for having worked something out for ourselves. What we don’t discover until right at the end is that we got it completely wrong. 

And Christie achieves that while only presenting us with the facts of the story. It’s a masterclass in misdirection.

The role of planning in constructing your twist or reveal

I’d argue that planning is essential to constructing both twists and reveals—even if, for pantsers, it only kicks in at the editing stage.

That planning starts with a clear story promise, the question that will be answered by the end of the book. That gives you the substance for your big reveal. 

To get there, there’ll be other questions that need to be answered. And those mini-reveals should pose new questions, too.

Also crucial is to decide what to reveal when. A good rule of thumb is to release important information at the last possible moment, only when readers need it to make sense of what happens next. Reveal it too soon, and suspense will leak away.

If you’re including a twist, you need to walk a tightrope. On one hand, your reader needs enough information that the twist will make perfect sense. On the other hand, you need to disguise that information in a way that doesn’t allow your reader to spot what’s coming.

There are lots of different ways you can do that. Here are a few:

• Have a character tell the truth, but make them appear so untrustworthy that your reader won’t believe them

• Have a character who lies but appears honest 

• Include red herrings

• Slip out crucial facts alongside revelations that appear more important, so your reader focuses on the wrong thing.

Finally, think about where you want your twist to appear. The only rule here is not to have it happen too soon: you need your reader to have developed a clear (and wrong) idea of what they think is happening for it to have real impact. 

The role of the twist in book marketing

Once upon a time, a twist was a relatively rare thing. These days, in genres like psychological thrillers, it’s almost expected. 

That presents some challenges. If readers suspect a twist is coming, they’ll be on their guard. And some people complain that blurbs mentioning a twist distract them from the story, diverting their attention to trying to spot it. 

It’s a fair point. But it’s also true that a great twist can be the thing that gets readers talking about a book. That, of course, means more sales—and what marketing department or indie author can afford to ignore that?

If savvy readers looking out for a twist are wise to the usual tactics, it’s up to us as authors to respond. Either we find ways to execute those tactics so brilliantly that we still bamboozle our readers, or we come up with new tactics altogether.

That’s pretty daunting—but it’s exciting too. I for one can’t wait for the next book with a “mind-blowing twist!”

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Claire Cooper grew up in a small village in Wales before moving to London as a student. She was a civil servant for 17 years, but hung up her bowler hat when she discovered that she much preferred writing about psychotic killers to Ministerial speeches. She lives in London with her husband and a pond full of very cute newts, and also writes as C. J. Cooper. Her latest book, "The Elevator" is set in New York, Bristol and London, and includes lots of reveals (and maybe one or two twists!). It was published on August 25th.

Subplots Can Tighten Your Story’s Saggy Middle

By Martha Reed

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We’ve all experienced that feeling of keen anticipation and undiluted terror when starting a new story, staring at that initial blank page, and wondering how on earth we’re going to fill it.

We may start out with an amorphous idea of what our story might be about, select an intriguing cast of characters, and develop a plot outline before committing ourselves to the months or even the decades of willful intent and devoted effort it takes to write 85,000 words in the right order.

For me, beginnings are easy enough. In between drafting books, I keep an untidy stack of newspaper clippings and screen capture print outs bearing provocative headlines hoping to plant these magical little seeds in my subconscious and trigger an idea or two down the road. How will these suggestions connect in my new stories? I have no idea, but I do know that they will. It’s part of that writerly sorcery, the creative fiction necromancy I’ve learned to enjoy—and to rely upon—because it’s that wizardry that keeps both me as the writer and my readers entertained.

Endings aren’t difficult because it’s our job as writers to wrap up loose threads. If our characters have followed their true hearts, their heads, and the story’s logic trail, then it should lead them and us to an ending that at least makes sense. It’s our writerly duty to make sure we provide readers with a compelling ending that satisfies them as a reward for following our words. If correctly done, we will gift our readers with a story they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.

Once we hook readers with that dynamic beginning, how do we entice them through our story’s middle act, so they’ll reach that magnificent ending? The answer is by using subplots.

Subplots are the unsung mighty little engines that could. They’re the smaller sidebar stories that support our main overarching storyline, and when we weave in subplots, they can reveal character insights, increase dramatic momentum, raise the stakes, and present plot twists. While subplots are connected to the larger story, they run parallel to the main plot, sub-surface, and they should end before the larger story arc does—or at least be a part of the final wrap-up.

There are dozens of subplot ideas. Here are a few I’ve used:

• A character background subplot/flashback helps a reader understand why a character is behaving the way they do. Did your protagonist grow up abused and dirt poor? Were they a spoiled only child? What made them the way they are now?

• A love interest subplot makes the protagonist more vulnerable since they’ll be revealing their emotions and/or personal attachments. Use this subplot to engage reader empathy.

• A comedic subplot can change the story’s pace, give the reader room to breathe, and lighten the mood.

• A parallel subplot shows two different sides of the same story that will eventually converge—for better or for worse. This convergence adds tension and dramatic suspense, especially if the reader sees it coming.

• A foreshadowing subplot can be used to insert red herrings, key hints, and clues.

Here are some subplots I like to use:

• Suggest a minor or secondary character in act one, but don’t introduce them until act two. Have other characters offer dribs and drabs of that backstory to tease reader interest, suggest potential plot complications, and prefigure unforeseen obstacles.

• Give your secondary character a skill in act two that your protagonist will need to use in act three. This is particularly effective if there’s an ongoing misunderstanding or rivalry between them that must be overcome.

• Misunderstandings are great subplot devices. Emails and text messages are often misread and feelings get hurt, increasing the dramatic tension because of the conflict.

• Every character hides a secret uncertainty or fear, and no one likes to admit to a weakness. In act two, offer an earth-shattering reveal that causes extensive personal and relationship repercussions between your characters and triggers new and surprising plot twists.

The trick with subplots is to correctly use them. Weave them into your story and they will support your plot with elastic drama and tension like a trampoline. Use too many and you risk muddling your plotline, confusing your readers, and derailing your tale. Practice makes perfect and the trick, as they say, is in the telling. Don’t be afraid to try.

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Martha Reed is a multi-award-winning mystery and crime fiction author. “Love Power,” her new Crescent City NOLA Mystery featuring Gigi Pascoe, a transgender sleuth won a 2021 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Best Attending Author Award as well as being a Silver Falchion Finalist in the Mystery category.

​Her John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mystery series garnered an Independent Publisher (IPPY) Book Award for Mid-Atlantic Best Regional Fiction. Her short story, “The Honor Thief” was selected for the 2021 Bouchercon anthology, This Time for Sure, edited by Hank Phillippi Ryan.

You’re invited to visit her website www.reedmenow.com for more detail.

Adding Tension, Suspense, & Intrigue to Your Story

By James Glass

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Are you in the process of writing a novel? Crime or suspense thriller? Or some other popular fiction you hope will grab readers’ attention? Besides a great character and a fascinating plot, you need to keep readers engaged and eagerly turning the pages. ALL genres of fiction, and not just thrillers, need tension and intrigue. That and a certain amount of suspense. But how do you break away from other writers in your genre? You must ratchet up the tension, intrigue, and suspense. Create a fast-paced, nail-biting, page-turner. Okay, but how?

First, create a protagonist your readers will care about, and give him/her some worries and secrets. Make your hero or heroine intriguing and complex, clever, and resourceful. But not perfect. Perfect is too boring and you’ll lose your readers. Make them vulnerable. Whether physical vulnerability or some inner conflict, regrets, and secrets. In most cases, you want your protagonist to be likeable too, or at least possess some endearing traits to make readers worry about and want to root for. If readers can’t identify with or bond with your character, it’s pretty clear your story needs work.

Next, you want to get up close and personal. Use deep point of view (first-person or third-person) to get us into the head and body of your main character right from the opening paragraph. Show their thoughts, fears, hopes, frustrations, worries, and physical and sensory reactions in every scene. Most new writers want to start with opening their story with description, background info, or even flashbacks. Instead, open with action. It’s best to jumpstart your story with your lead interacting with someone else who matters to them, preferably with a bit of discord and tension. And show his/her inner thoughts and emotional reactions, maybe some frustration or anxiety. Give your character a problem to solve right from the start. This creates an early conflict that throws your lead off-balance and will make your readers worry about him/her. A worried reader is an engaged reader. Remember—act first, explain later.

 Another way to create suspense is to withhold information. There’s no surprise for the reader if they know everything up front. This is so important and a common weakness for new fiction writers. Hold off on critical information. Give a hint of a traumatic or life-changing event early on. But reveal fragments of info about it little by little, through dialogue, thoughts, and brief flashbacks. This will keep your readers wondering and worrying—keeping your reader engaged as they need to know but have to read further.

Don’t get bogged down in lengthy descriptions, backstory, or exposition. Keep the action and interactions moving ahead, especially in the first chapter. Dialogue is your best friend early on. This isn’t to say dialogue is not needed later on, but new writers tend to overuse narrative description. This usually results in a slower pace and bogs down the action.

Then introduce a significant, meaningful story problem for your protagonist. Now that your readers care about the main character, insert a major challenge, dilemma, goal, or threat within the first ten chapters, a big one that won’t be resolved until the end. The tension will keep the reader engaged throughout the story.

Every page needs some tension, even if it’s just doubt, questioning, disbelief, disagreement, suspicion, or resentment simmering below the surface. Add in tough choices and moral dilemmas. Devise ongoing difficult decisions and inner conflict for your lead character. Besides making your plot more suspenseful, this will also make your protagonist more complex, vulnerable, and intriguing.

Insert several plot twists. Readers are surprised and delighted when the events take a turn they never expected. Don’t let your readers become complacent, thinking it’s easy to figure out the ending, or they may stop reading. To keep the reader engaged, establish a sense of urgency, a tense mood, and generally fast pacing.

Utilize cliff-hangers. Put your hero or heroine in danger at the end of some chapters. This will incite reader curiosity and questions and compel them to go to the next chapter. James Patterson is a master of short chapters with lots of suspense that forces the reader to turn to the next chapter. 

I hope you find these tips to be helpful.

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James Glass achieved the rank of Command Master Chief before retiring after 22 years in the United States Navy. After retiring from the Navy, he exchanged his rifle for a pen. He and his family moved back to Florida. James is also the President of the Panhandle Writers Group. He’s published five novels, one novella, and two (you solve the crime) chapter books.