Going over to the Dark Side: My Inspiration behind Writing a Psychological Thriller By Carol Snow

Recently, I re-read Rebecca, Daphne DuMaurier’s 1938 masterpiece of psychological suspense. The first time I encountered the novel, in my early teens, it captivated me, as all romantic stories did. Another “romance novel” I read around that time was Madame Bovary. I liked it, but not as much as Rebecca because there was no mystery and also the ending was a downer.

Encountering Rebecca for the second time came with two surprises. One, it has held up. The writing is taut, the pacing flawless, the suspense unrelenting, the twist masterful. Two, the story of a young woman who falls desperately in love with an intense, handsome man, only to have him whisk her off to a quick wedding and long honeymoon in the South of France, and from there to his legendary seaside estate on the English coast, is not romantic. At all.

As a reader, I am always surprised to discover shades of meaning that I missed when reading something with a younger person’s eyes. As a writer, I find myself drawn to crafting novels of increasingly complexity, from both a plot and character perspective. 

This month, my tenth novel – and first psychological thriller — will be published. The Girl on the Beach tells the story of a wealthy and glamorous couple; their precocious four-year-old daughter; and the family’s babysitter, a college student whose life goes off the rails when the child, last seen running towards the ocean on a perfect August afternoon, is declared dead. Months later, the babysitter, mired in grief and hoping to make sense of the tragedy, returns to the California beach house where she lived and worked the previous summer. Her first night back, she sees a child who bears a striking resemblance to her one-time charge. With neither the police nor the parents taking her claim seriously, the young woman sets out to uncover the truth.

I’ve always loved mysteries. As a child, I devoured disintegrating library copies of Nancy Drew. Even at the age of ten, I was disappointed by the obvious lack of chemistry between titian-haired Nancy and her roadster-driving, quasi-boyfriend Ned, but the reliable formula kept me coming back for more. Also, I got to learn cool new words. Like titian. And roadster.

It is perhaps unsurprising that I launched my career writing romantic comedies, often with a hint of gentle mystery. I was a sucker for a happy ending, far less interested in the way things are than in the way they should be. As the years passed, though, I found myself increasingly drawn to reading psychological thrillers — dark, twisted tales told by such masters as Kate Atkinson, Dennis Lehane, Gillian Flynn, and Denise Mina. As a reader, I wondered, “Whodunnit?” As a writer, I asked myself, “How did they do that?”

The inspiration behind The Girl on the Beach came from an image. I pictured a young woman on the sand, shocked to see a child in the distance. I didn’t know who either of them was – just that the child was not supposed to be there. For over ten years, I’d periodically ask myself, “What happened? Who are these people?” Until one day, while walking on the beach (one of those sacrifices I make for my art), the story fell into place. I knew who the young woman was. I knew who the child was. Little by little, I began to understand what had happened – and why.

One of the most annoying lessons I’ve learned in life is that failure really is the best teacher. I’d attempted to write a psychological thriller once before, but I approached that novel as I did my romantic comedies, as a heavily voice-driven narrative more focused on character than plot — unless you count subplots, of which there were too many. 

Writers are often asked, “Do you focus more on plot or character?” When crafting a psychological thriller, the only correct answer to that question is, Yes. Unlike traditional thrillers, in which the action tends to be externally driven, psychological thrillers explore the interplay between what’s going on within a character and the outside world. As in reality, neither nature nor nurture are independent variables. I have no interest in creating two-dimensional characters who are all good or all bad; who behave the same way in every situation; or who necessarily understand their own motivations. People are messy. Characters should be too. What’s the point of reading fiction if it fails to shed light on the human condition?

It’s not that I’m no longer interested in exploring romantic relationships. I just approach them differently: more in the context of individual needs and behaviors bumping up against entrenched family and community dynamics. I view infatuation less as the first step along the path towards happily-ever-after and more as an irrational force that has the potential to catapult characters into behavior that ideally surprises both themselves and the reader. (And I wonder why no one ever asks me to make a wedding toast.)

Before their little girl disappears in the Pacific Ocean, the couple at the center of The Girl on the Beach seems to have it all. They are wealthy, attractive, and charming. What fun is that? As the story grew, I took delight from stripping back the layers of their carefully constructed facades. Perfection, it turns out, is boring. For readers and writers of psychological thrillers, what really matters is that which lies beneath.

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Carol Snow is the author of ten novels, including her latest psychological thriller, The Girl on the Beach. Known for her sharp insight into human behavior, she has been recognized by Booklist as “an author to watch.” With a background in psychology from Brown University and an MA in teaching English from Boston College, Carol brings a deep understanding of emotions and language to her work.

Carol’s website: https://www.carolsnow.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/carol_snow

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/270463.Carol_Snow

THE GIRL ON THE BEACH

A missing child tears a family apart in this switchback roller coaster of a psychological thriller that builds to a final, jaw-dropping twist, perfect for fans of Jennifer Hillier and Lisa Lutz.

On the surface, Sonia and Graham Starr were a glamorous couple: She, the sleek entrepreneur; he, the boyishly handsome painter with an irrepressible zest for life. They had everything money can buy and the one thing it can’t—a precious, precocious four-year-old named Roxie. But when Roxie disappears into the Pacific Ocean on a perfect August afternoon, their world crumbles around them.

Months later, Roxie’s twenty-one-year-old former nanny, plagued by guilt and confusion, returns to the Starrs’ beach house on the “American Riviera,” the rarefied stretch of land around Santa Barbara where the mountains meet the sea. Her first night back, she gazes out at the sand, only to see a child who bears a striking resemblance to Roxie. When she calls out, the child runs away.

Colleen never believed that Roxie, who was afraid of the surf, would run into the ocean on her own. Now, she is determined to get to the truth, even if it means facing her greatest fears.

The Girl on the Beach asks us who we trust when we can’t trust ourselves.

BUY HERE

 

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing