Why I Write Dark Crime Novels
I’m now four books into my series about a railroad cop and her K9 partner, a former military working dog. My books lean toward the grittier side of life—I’m fascinated by the hapless ways in which hapless people fall into a life of crime. Or the seemingly petty reasons some killers give for committing murder. (“I don’t like Mondays” is one of my favorites.) To be a crime novelist is to be a student of human nature, peeling back civilization’s genteel surface and probing the tangled depths of dark hearts and broken minds.
Although I was raised on the classics and studied English literature in college, one of my favorite quotes comes from Dennis Lehane: “In Greek tragedy, they fall from great heights. In noir, they fall from the curb.” (Although a careful study of the plays of Sophocles and Euripides or the epic poetry of Homer reveals that humans haven’t changed much over time. Back then, as now, they committed adultery, sought revenge, and lashed out at perceived slights.)
So with all the delightful genres available to a writer, why would a novelist opt for a life spinning tales about killers and sadists? Why study crime scenes and ballistics and track the devastating, rippling effects of a single murder when we all know that peering into the abyss reveals monsters? Why spend hours every day with my mind in, so to speak, the gutter?
I offer four reasons to defend my vicarious life of crime.
Structure
For as long as I can remember, I’ve heard voices. Characters demanding that I find a story for them so that they can strut and fret their hour upon the stage (a nod to Macbeth; I beg you not to read too much into the next lines—‘It is a tale/Told by an idiot.’). But despite all the novels I read in my solitary youth, I didn’t have a clue how to structure a story. Dragging dead bodies on to the stage gave me a way to propel my main character from the beginning to the end: the detective’s quest to find the killer.
Curiosity
In my other life, I’m a scientist. An astronomer, a neurologist, a biologist. I look upon my brother’s PhD in entomology with admiration and envy. By writing police procedurals, I get to dig into the science of forensics. From autopsies to the human psyche.
Justice
Aficionados of true-crime docuseries and books explain their habit as one that feeds the need to see balance restored in a world gone mad. Crimes happen, including murder most foul. But as long as the perpetrator is caught and justice is served, we at least feel that a wobbled world has been righted upon its axis. Until the next crime.
Salvation
But the big answer, for me, is this: dark stories help me navigate a dark world.
As a side gig, I teach creative writing to veterans. I call it a side-gig because it takes far less of my time than writing novels. But it’s the most important thing I do. The job came about because of a collaboration between the Department of Defense and the National Endowment for the Arts. Some really smart people—experts in resiliency and post-traumatic stress—recognized that writing is one of the best ways to process trauma. And to hopefully—eventually—help people heal. Because few of us get through this life unscathed, and because I have been scathed multiple times, I’ve learned that writing about people’s fall into the gutter followed by the eventual righting of their world helps me process my own trauma. The first book in my series, Blood on the Tracks, resulted from multiple ordeals, the most public of which was a wildfire that took my family’s home and everything we owned.
Hopeful Endings
My novels are dark. But my endings aren’t. And this is vitally important to me. While no one will call my endings happy, they are always hopeful. Thus my detective, Special Agent Parnell and her K9 partner, Clyde, continue their long arc of healing from book to book, finding comfort in their companionship, moving on from the trauma of war, and learning to make peace with the ghosts that haunt them.
Writing a crime novel is a descent into the gutter. And then—most importantly—back out, into a brighter world.
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