The Writer’s Corner: The Craft of Writing Political Thrillers

“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

That’s an iconic line from Mike Tyson, one of the greatest heavyweight boxing champions in the world (as well as a troubled man who served time in prison).

But it applies to writing thrillers, too.

All great novelists start a new book with a game plan. They know who their hero is. They know who the enemy is. They know what their what-if premise is, the main threat that their hero has to confront and defuse. And they know how they want the story to end.

But beyond that, the best writers don’t hold to the rest of their plan too tightly. To the contrary, like a great boxer they adapt—once their bad guy starts throwing punches, they make their hero bob and weave and adapt to the situation.

Above all, they let their characters lead them.

There are some characters in my books that I start out really liking. Then I realize it would be far better if they turned to the dark side—or suddenly revealed that they were also on that side—betraying their friends and colleagues. Betraying me.

Some characters turn out to be great moles—and thus far more interesting than the good guys. Dangerous because they are unpredictable. They stab a close friend or fellow warrior in the back, literally or figuratively, and I never see it coming. It’s not part of my plan. It just feels right in the moment because by shocking me I know it will shock the audience.

The worst sin of a thriller writer is to be predictable.

In the ring Mike Tyson was mesmerizing because he was fearless, powerful, unpredictable, and thus incredibly dangerous.

Though I was not particularly a boxing enthusiast, I remember watching the much-hyped, and now-infamous, Tyson-Holyfield match. Holyfield came out hungry and hot and aggressive and won the first three rounds. We could all see how shocked Tyson was. The reigning heavyweight champion was losing. He knew it. We knew it. And the question was: Could the champ turn things around? And if so, how?

That’s drama. That’s what keeps viewers glued to the large-screen TV. That’s what keeps readers turning pages, even long after midnight when they should really be asleep.

And that’s when Tyson stunned us all. As Holyfield landed punch after punch and Tyson became more and more enraged, he suddenly went crazy and bit a piece out of Holyfield’s ear.

None of us could believe it.

The ref stopped the fight, as shocked as anyone in the Vegas venue. Then he rightly declared Holyfield the winner. Tyson was banned from boxing and fined $3 million.

But wow—what a fight!

Are you writing novels like that?

Are you putting two titans in the ring for a winner-take-all death match?

And then making one character go crazy?

You should. The crazier the better. That’s great drama. That’s great writing. And it’s rarely part of “the plan.”

I don’t want my readers to ever know what I’m going to do next.

I want them to fear that any of the characters they love could die on any page. That I’m willing to even kill off my main character—my hero—if it’s right for the story. I’ve done it before. I might do it again.

Bland, predictable characters are the kiss of death. And the mark of terrible writing. I want my characters telling me, “Strap in, because you’re not going to believe what I’m about to do.”

This is a big reason why I no longer use extensive and detailed outlines like I did in the past. When I first started writing, I would put together thirty- to forty-page treatments of where I was going in the story. First, so I could convince myself that I had a good plot and plan. Second, so I could convince my agent and my publisher that the story I was going to pursue was publish-worthy.

More recently, I’ve added far less detail to my outlines. I have a beginning and an ending. I know my characters, their ambitions, and more importantly their flaws and liabilities. Beyond that, why plan?

I wake up every morning with no idea how I’m going to get to my conclusion. I want to give my characters and my plot room to breathe—to play out and adapt in real time. I want Marcus Ryker to have a carefully thought-through plan on how he’s going capture or kill Abu Nakba. But then I want the plan to go out the window as Abu Nakba throws the first punch and knocks Ryker off his game.

My advice to aspiring young writers: Chuck the plan. Start throwing punches. And your characters will take you on a ride you never signed up for.

—Joel C. Rosenberg