I still remember the moment my agent said she could imagine me writing a thriller. I’d written uplifting book-club fiction and family dramas before, but she was spot on; I did harbour a secret desire to tap into my dark side.
Despite her recognising this, I have never thought of myself as having an easily detectable dark side. I am fortunate to have been born an optimist, but my extroversion and outward confidence belie an anxiety which is sometimes hard to manage. You’d think that would stop me from wanting to explore the more tense and scary aspects of this danger-riddled world, but no. I believe my anxious nature is partly what compels me to write psychological thrillers. Here’s why…
During anxious spells, my mind creates reels of worst case scenarios and plays them like films in my head. I can see terrible things happening on my internal screen and, irrationally, my brain tells me that visualising a nightmare situation will stop it from happening. It’s my way of risk-assessing then trying to account for, and mitigate, all eventualities. A faulty system, I admit, and therapy helps.
My brain creates the scenes I’m writing in the same way. In my working life, I invent a situation I need to happen, then type out what I see unfolding in my head. Recently, I’ve come to realise that these processes go hand in hand. In my worries, I’m telling myself stories of what could happen. In my writing, I’m doing the same.
If I combine the two, bingo, we have a thriller!
Hard as it is to believe, when I’m drafting, the process from internal film to fingers is not an entirely conscious one. I don’t always know what’s about to come out before the words are typed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a planner (even the idea of pantsing brings me out in hives), so I know where the plot is heading, but what I don’t always know is how it will get there.
A thriller needs red herrings and misdirection on top of the real signposts. Not knowing what these are until they are on the page can be quite the ride in itself. There are a number of scenes in The Woman in Ward 9 that made me shudder as the words appeared on the screen. One in particular made my scalp prickle with fear. It’s dark, and flowed from my fingers without a filter.
But it’s not real. It’s a figment of my anxious mind. What happens in that room on Ward 9 hasn’t happened to me, but I can imagine it vividly and hope that’s transferred onto the page. This is where I think being plagued with anxious thoughts and feelings plays directly into the writer’s hands. I’m an ex-Drama teacher, and used to teach Stanislavski’s technique of emotional memory. This is where the actor uses their true past experiences, a time when they felt a similar emotion, to find the feelings they need to portray in a scene.
The same technique can be applied to writing. You can’t portray an emotion convincingly, unless you have first experienced it. That’s why an anxious person is very well placed to write scary novels. Those feelings are already so near the surface!
Psychology is endlessly fascinating to someone with an unruly brain, and in my thrillers I have the opportunity to explore big questions that trouble many of us. Who can we really trust? Can we ever truly know another person? Can we ever really recover from our past mistakes? What impact does our upbringing have on us?
In fiction, as in life, every decision a character makes will inform what comes next for them. I can make terrible things happen to my characters, or I can solve all their problems and set them free.
But why would I do that? If my writing is an extension of my brain’s attempt to make my world safe by playing out all the scenarios so they won’t happen to me or the people I love, then fictional people have to suffer. And I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s better for people in books to go through hell than me… or you.
The Woman in Ward 9 by Naomi Williams (Headline Publishers) Out Now.
Laura Winters doesn't know why she has lost her memory, or why she was found alone, soaked in someone else's blood. The only thing she is certain of is that I am the only psychologist she can - or will - talk to. I have six days to help Laura unlock her memories and find out the truth. But what has she forgotten - and what is she hiding? And how does she know so much about me? With tension you could cut with a knife and twists that will have your head spinning, The Woman in Ward 9 is sure to keep you reading late into the night.
You can find Naomi on X @LTimoneyWrites. You can also find her on Facebook and on Instagram.
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