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Writing a novel means working in a world of simultaneous opposites. It means working with unbounded creativity, at the same time as absolute discipline. It means keeping the big picture in your head, while working on tiny details; it means both having the ego to believe you have something to say, with the humility to know your work isn’t good enough. it means knowing there are too many books in the world for anyone to ever read, yet deciding to add another.
Vivian Dies Again started with a clear agenda in mind. I was a comedy writer, but I always knew, one day, I’d write a mystery – but only if I could find a way of making it feel fresh and different, and worthy of my heroes. I am a huge fan of Golden Age mysteries, to the extent I wore out two The Complete Poirot DVD boxsets, (it was my middle-of-the-night insomnia comfort TV for a long time). I am the proud owner of a crocheted Hercule Poirot figurine.
But I wanted to do the idea justice, so I set myself a logic challenge. How could I write a Serious Mystery Novel, with all the hallmarks of a golden age mystery, but in a fresh, contemporary setting? How could I give readers the same satisfying experience (red herrings, clues, twists, clever plotting, a rewarding ending) in this age of DNA profiling and CSI techniques and surveillance cameras?
I mulled, and mulled. I landed on the idea of having narrator in a time loop, one who kept dying so had no time to investigate before going back to the start: a neat way to dodge the tech elements that could scupper a murder mystery. I decided my main character would go to a funeral, where she would be killed again and again, and need to solve her own (repeated) murder. Sorted!
Except … no, not sorted. Like a true logic puzzle, every solution created a new problem.
Because if someone kept murdering Viv, how would she not be able to immediately identify who had killed her before?
(I got it. Her memory would reset each time she died.)
But then how did I stop the book being repetitive?
(By starting the book towards the end, after multiple loops had already happened.)
But then how would Viv and the reader know what had happened in previous loops?
(By bringing another character into the time loop, one who remembered and was able to bring Viv and the reader up to speed. The two would work together to piece together the clues.)
The logic of the book came together piece by piece, over several years, as I solved one problem by creating another. I planned meticulously on spreadsheets. Only when I was happy with the plot mechanics did I think about character, and only then did Viv grow from a cypher to a larger-than-life person: an infuriating antihero who is her own worst enemy, one who takes dodgy internet prescription drugs and family events, and sleeps with married men at funerals. Only then did I create Jamie, the long-suffering, sleep-deprived waiter who has been pulled into the time loop and has to help Viv.
And only then did I start writing – and I wrote the book wrong. And wrote it wrong in the next draft too. I find writing books a protracted exercise of ‘not that. How about this?’
Eventually I got happy enough with the book that I sent a draft to my agent. Who told me I hadn’t written a Serious Crime Novel, I’d written a comedy.
Turns out you can’t control *every* element of writing with a spreadsheet.
So I leaned into my fate, embracing the comedy, stuffing the book with one-liners and having fun with the kind of complex relationship dynamics that may be wryly relatable if you don’t come from a John Lewis advert family.
I set out to write a Serious Crime Novel. It took me a long time. I failed.
And, along the way, I created something I’m really proud of.
And – trust me – Vivian Dies Again is much easier to read than it was to write.
Vivian Dies Again by C E Hulse (Viper Books) Out Now
Time heals all wounds. Except blunt force trauma. Vivian Slade is a cautionary tale. The wrong side of thirty, she's no longer the life and soul of the party - she's a party of one. But she's determined to turn over a new leaf, even if that means going to a family gathering where everyone hates her. Turns out, someone really hates her - enough to push her off a balcony to a very messy end. But then Vivian wakes up! Only to be murdered again. And again. Stuck in a baffling time loop, Vivian's only ally is a sleep-deprived waiter who just wants to finish his shift. Will Vivian be able to solve her own murder? Only time will tell...
More information about the author can be found on her website. She can also be found on Instagram @carolinehulse1
Photo © Nathan Cox
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