Clay Stafford talks with James Grippando on “Turning Complex Ideas Into Page-Turning Stories”

James Grippando interviewed by Clay Stafford

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James Grippando has spent decades mastering the balance between legal accuracy and page-turning storytelling. A New York Times bestselling author and veteran trial lawyer, he understands both the complexity of the courtroom and the demands of suspense fiction. In this conversation, Grippando shares practical insights on research, pacing, simplifying complex ideas, and keeping readers engaged, all lessons that apply to any writer working with technical material or high-stakes storytelling. “James, what originally drew you to the idea of a legal thriller? Is it because you’re an attorney, your love of law, story opportunities, courtroom excitement?”

“I’ve wanted to be a writer since age eleven, but it was a dream, not a goal. I aimed to be a lawyer, inspired by a trip to Springfield, Illinois, where we visited Abe Lincoln’s law office. My goal was law; my dream was writing. The dream rested until TV shows like Law and Order in the early ‘90s and John Grisham’s fame motivated me to try. I spent four years writing a novel that wasn’t published, but I gained an agent who encouraged me to write another. I wrote it in nine months, sold it to HarperCollins over a weekend, and have been with them for 33 novels.”

“The legal world has its own terminology and rules. What’s the hardest legal concept for non-lawyers to understand without oversimplifying it for thriller writers?”

“I’ll start by saying the audience has come a long way. It began about 30 years ago with the OJ trial, when people started watching more intently. Every 18 months, a new ‘trial of the century’ grabbed attention. People became fixated, and as a legal thriller writer, I’m glad because now many understand concepts like hearsay and courtroom procedures, thanks to watching trials on TV.”

“I attribute that to Judge Judy, but…”

“Whatever works, you know. If you go back and read courtroom dramas from 45-50 years ago… I once read The Seven Minutes as a teen and loved the trial scenes. Re-reading it, I saw the lawyer pay a witness as if it were normal, which modern audiences wouldn’t accept. Still, I think you shouldn’t get too caught up in procedural details. Apply the same rule to courtroom scenes as to others: get in, get out. After this interview, you’ll review the transcript, and you won’t want it to sound like one. That’s my view. Thriller writers’ manuscripts often read like transcripts, dead and cold, lacking life.”

“Do the things you write about come from your head because of experience, or do you research?”

“I do all my own research, and I love the research side of it.”

“Do you research deeply, just skim for plausibility, or what’s your process?”

“That’s the hardest part of the job, deciding what to keep in the book from your research. I’ve read where an author clearly visited Switzerland and spoke to a Swiss watchmaker, with three pages about Swiss watches and the author saying, ‘I flew all the way over here…’”

“‘…and I am gonna keep every word of this…’”

“‘…and it’s going in the book.’ You have to watch yourself on that, no pun intended. Sometimes I get into rabbit holes with my research, which are interesting but may not make it into the book. That’s part of self-editing. I’ve never based a plot on my legal practice, but many characters influenced my writing. The key link between my law work and writing is understanding people. When I meet a new client, I ask the same questions I ask of characters: what do they want, why, and what are they willing to risk? Answering these reveals who they are.”

“Trials and the legal system move slowly, but fiction must move faster. What tools do you recommend for writers of legal dramas and thrillers to respect both, without betraying either?”

“There are two approaches. I often have emergency hearings on motions such as injunctions, restraining orders, or death warrants, which move quickly and require a tight timeline. Alternatively, as Scott Turow did in Presumed Innocent, you can divide the story into sections like fall, winter, spring, skipping detailed daily accountings. If done well, this works even if it's not in real time. In real life, months can pass between discovery and trial, so you must either link these segments effectively or consider another profession.”

“You do something I really like: you introduce a foreign concept, then briefly explain it in a few sentences, and then you continue without breaking the flow. It keeps us novices from getting lost.”

“I take that as high praise. Early in my career, I had a great drill: my agent would ask me to fax him pages, then reduce them step by step: from three pages to one, then to a paragraph, and finally to a sentence starting with ‘this is the story of…’ Once I mastered that, I was ready to write. It’s not about dumbing down but about impact. When something is worth mentioning, I try to make it flow. As a writer, if you’re not making readers turn pages, you’ve failed. Page-turners matter. If you need to sacrifice technical requirements, you must explain why. It could be as simple as noting a judge’s mistake or bias, like someone wanting to leave early. If you truncate or deal with adverse rulings that most lawyers find wrong, recognize that it’s okay because even lawyers face unjust judgments. When to explain should be clear, ideally in one non-intrusive line.”

“Is that how you consciously calibrate the cognitive load you’re placing on the reader?”

“Many aspiring writers mistakenly assume readers are less intelligent, which leads to over-explanation. This mistake often hampers their success. For example, my first novel, at 265,000 words, was too long. A debut should be around 90,000 words to be effective.”

“Even in The Right to Remain, there are moments that may arise when you’re exploring real-world legal or political issues. How do you keep the story from becoming commentary rather than narrative, especially when you’re writing legal thrillers?”

“That goes back to The Pardon. I challenge anyone to read it and correctly guess my stance on the death penalty when I wrote it. Characters have different points of view, and I aim to present them realistically, recognizing that disagreements arise from the complexity of these issues. I don’t want to make the plot overly complicated, but I acknowledge the diverse views on hot-button issues. Avoiding controversy would be a mistake; instead, presenting it thoughtfully and reflecting diverse opinions will satisfy readers.”

“From your perspective, what can a legal thriller do for readers emotionally, intellectually, or even morally that other thriller subgenres may not be able to do?”

“I think, number one, the stakes are always very high. Because the stakes are so high and there is a recognized process for dealing with that conflict, I think legal thrillers, better than any other genre, help you see people at their best. In my books, the protagonist is really trying to do the right thing. But also at their worst: people who lie on the witness stand, people who hide evidence, people who destroy evidence. I think what really shines a light on that range of conduct in an informative way is that everyone, one way or another, recognizes that they’ve either got to play by the rules or hide the fact that they’re breaking them. And it’s not just a gunfight. There is a strategy that has to be invoked in this, and when you’re strategizing about your next move, I think it makes the good in you shine brighter, but it also makes the villains, when they know they’re doing wrong and they know they’ve got to manipulate the system to get their way, illustrate the worst of humankind.”

“Are there any last words you’d like to share with any reader-writers out there who want to follow in your footsteps?”

“I would say keep it fun. That was my number one rule when I first started writing. Was I going to get published? Was I not going to get published? I never wanted that to sour me on my love of books. So, keep it fun. It is about the storytelling, not necessarily about being in print. There’s an art to storytelling in whatever form.”

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Clay Stafford is a bestselling writer, filmmaker, and founder of the Killer Nashville International Writers’ Conference, Killer Nashville Magazine, and Killer Nashville University. https://claystafford.com/

James Grippando is a New York Times bestselling author with more than thirty books to his credit, including those in his acclaimed series featuring Miami criminal defense attorney Jack Swyteck, and is the winner of the Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction. He is also a trial lawyer and teaches law and literature at the University of Miami School of Law. He lives and writes in South Florida.
https://www.jamesgrippando.com/

Clay Stafford talks with David Handler on “Character, Conscience, and Crime”

David Handler interviewed by Clay Stafford

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For Killer Nashville Magazine, I had the pleasure of chatting with David Handler—storyteller, observer, craftsman—to talk about the rhythm of crime fiction, the quiet power of character, and how to say something meaningful without ever preaching. What follows is honest, generous, and full of the kind of wisdom that only comes from doing the work. “David, let’s talk about thematic elements, which are so vital to your work. I grew up in a small town, so your latest book, The Man Who Swore He’d Never Go Home, really resonated with me. It felt different. Your novels often explore issues such as race, privilege, class, and pollution, weaving them seamlessly into the narrative. They never feel like lectures. How do you recommend other writers include meaningful issues in their work without sounding preachy?”

“For me, it starts with writing a lot of drafts. I usually let myself go ahead and write the lecture—get it all out. Then I step back and ask, ‘What do I really need here? What’s boring or extraneous? What moves the story?’ If something slows the momentum, I cut it.”

“So, the line is really about whether it’s boring?”

“That’s one test. But ‘extraneous’ is just as important. I always think like a reader. If my interest dips, something’s wrong. I’m the type who can read one page in a bookstore and know whether I’ll like the book. A lot depends on voice. If it reads like a Netflix screenplay in disguise, I’m out. I’m a fussy reader, which makes me a fussy writer. Pacing is crucial. Especially in crime fiction, you can’t give readers too much time to think, or the illusion might crumble. You have to keep them moving.”

“Like Hitchcock’s famous ‘icebox questions’.”

“Exactly. Hitchcock described those as questions people ask later, like when they’re getting a glass of milk from the fridge at midnight: ‘Wait, why was there a machine gun on that crop duster?’ It didn’t matter in the moment because he kept the story moving. You don’t want to push it too far, but forward momentum matters.”

“Lately, I’ve noticed more books focusing heavily on social issues, sometimes at the expense of story. It could just be what I’m reading, but it feels more common.”

“There was definitely a movement in the crime community a few years ago that leaned that way.”

“What you do differently, though, is include social issues without directing them. Your characters live within the issues. You’re not editorializing; you’re reporting, like a good journalist.”

“That journalism background helps. Whether I was writing criticism, doing profiles, screenplays, or columns, it’s all added up. But honestly, I rely a lot on instinct. After years of hard work, you develop a gut feeling for what belongs on the page.”

“And your tone helps. Some writers come to the page with anger. You bring a sardonic wit.”

“I do, but I don’t consider my books ‘comic mysteries,’ even though some critics label them that way.”

“I wouldn’t call them that either.”

“They have humor—Hoagy’s voice includes sharp observations, and the dialogue can be funny—but I think of them as serious novels. Early in the series, I pushed the humor harder. I was younger, trying to prove I could be funny. But then I took a twenty-year hiatus between the first eight books and the next set. Coming back, I was older, more relaxed. Now I let the voice come naturally. If it feels forced, I cut it. It’s like the difference between a twenty-two-year-old NBA player and a thirty-year-old one. The younger guy’s trying to impress, jump higher, run faster. The older player sees the game better, sets up the team, and plays the long game.”

“There’s a fairness to how you write. One character might view their world as totally normal, while another sees it as broken. You show both perspectives without judgment. That feels like your journalism again.”

“It probably is. I try to keep an open mind. I learn from my characters. One of the central themes in my work, and maybe my outlook on life, is that no one is who they seem to be. We think we know people, but we don’t. You might have friends who seem happy, then suddenly divorce. No one knows the truth of a relationship except the two people in it. I try to dig beneath the image someone presents and find out who they really are. People have layers. Vanity. Flaws. Strengths. And they’re more complicated than we realize. The older I get, the more I see how surprising they can be. I’ve had experiences in show business that would make your jaw drop, people you thought were friends turning on you. But I’ve also seen incredible kindness. For me, it always comes back to the people. The murder is an outgrowth of character and relationship.”

“That’s a powerful point. Social issues do reflect our environment. What advice do you have for writers who want to include them without being heavy-handed?”

“You can always tell when it’s heavy-handed or when a writer did a lot of research and refuses to cut any of it.”

“They throw it all in.”

“Subtlety matters. A little goes a long way. The issue should be organic to the story. Otherwise, it’s a distraction.”

“That’s what I felt reading your work. Pollution, dying towns, underfunded systems. They’re not soapboxes. They’re realities the characters live inside. You’re not explaining the cause of the decay; you’re showing what it’s like to live with it.”

“That’s the goal. Take the brass mill in the new book. One of the characters rarely talks about his father’s past, but the mill was a toxic place. Brass contains lead. The workers got sick. The groundwater was poisoned. It was non-union. Then it all collapsed when cheaper imports arrived from countries without environmental regulations. I’m not giving a ten-page lecture on it, but I want readers to feel it.”

“And we do—because your characters live it. Any advice for new writers?”

“Years ago, when I was doing celebrity profiles, I interviewed one of my childhood idols, Ray Bradbury. I was about twenty-six. I told him I wanted to be a novelist but didn’t know what kind of books to write. I had too many ideas and no direction. He said, ‘Sure you do.’ I asked, ‘I do?’ And he said, ‘Yeah. Write what you love to read.’ I got into the hotel elevator afterward, and I felt like I’d just spoken with the Dalai Lama. ‘Write what you love to read.’ It’s simple, but it changed me. Don’t think about the marketplace. Don’t chase trends. Just write the stories that move you.”

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Clay Stafford is a bestselling writer, filmmaker, and founder of Killer Nashville International Writers’ Conference, The Balanced Writer, and Killer Nashville Magazine. Subscribe to his newsletter at https://claystafford.com/.

David Handler is the Edgar Award-winning author of several bestselling mystery series. He began his career as a New York City reporter. In 1988, he published The Man Who Died Laughing, the first of his long-running series starring ghostwriter Stuart Hoag and his faithful basset hound Lulu.

https://davidhandlerbooks.com/