Hi Reader,

Not everyone that reads crime novels is, or was, a cop. But that doesn’t stop people knowing when a crime novel is faking it.

After 32 years in ‘the job’, I’m probably harder to please than a lot of people. I see things that aren’t quite right, they’re just a little bit off, things that many people might miss. I definitely roll my eyes, or groan when I read things like DNA results coming back in hours rather than weeks. Detectives that duck under crime scene tape at a murder and pick up evidence with a pen. Not even using gloved hands. No protective clothing. Nothing. Argh!

Strangely, though, I don’t think it’s because I was a cop. I’m pretty sure most readers would have the same instincts when it comes to those sorts of things, even if they’d never set foot inside a police station in their life. Maybe they can’t quite put their finger on it, but they know something is amiss.

So, why is that? What are those non-police readers picking up on? Probably not the procedure, because outside of law enforcement and the legal fraternity, very few people would know much about the rules of evidence, or just how many forms need to be filled out after a serious crash or crime. For the record, there’s a lot of forms. Sometimes they feel like they’re endless. But, I digress.

Back to the question. Why do people recognise the inaccuracies? I think it’s probably because we all know people, and how they react. We know how they talk and behave when they’re completely exhausted. We know that people don’t stop mid-argument to explain something. We know grief and anger can make people behave strangely, and that fear can make them do stupid things. We know people.

Let’s take gallows humour as an example. Many cops really do tell dark jokes at what many would consider inappropriate, terrible moments in time. It’s a coping mechanism, a way to get through the shift without falling apart. But when those jokes come, they’re usually quiet, unobtrusive, sometimes a bit awkward, and told so only the intended recipient can hear. There might be a little chuckle, but nobody laughs out loud. When a fictional cop cracks a one-liner while standing over a murder victim’s body, then storms off to get lunch, well, that just feels off. It feels wrong, false, even if many readers can’t tell you why.

When I think back over my policing career and the many crash scenes I investigated, it’s not the procedures that stick with me, it’s the little things, like the unique and unmistakeable smell of coolant mixed with oil and petrol. The sound and feel of glass crunching underfoot and the feel of crunching bones as you lift lifeless bodies. Being so cold you can barely hold your pen, or so hot your shoes are sticking to the melting bitumen.

Those details are what makes a scene feel lived in, like you’ve experienced it. They’re the things that authors get right when they’ve been close to the real thing, or have spent lots of time sitting, listening, talking to someone that has.

In the last issue, I talked about Lucas Davenport, the lead investigator in John Sandford’s Prey series. In real life, Lucas would be buried under a mountain of complaints, and yet the books still feel real. They ring true. Why? Because Sandford must have spent enough time with cops to get the characters right. The policing procedures might be a bit of a stretch, but the characters are real. The banter, the tiredness, long stretches of nothing between sudden bursts of action. It all feels like he’s actually lived those experiences. The reality is that Sandford was never a cop. His real name is John Camp, a Pulitzer Prize-winning former journalist. Reporters learn to listen. Sandford takes it a step further. He understands. He never carried a badge, but he did pay attention. I think that’s where authenticity comes from.

As an author, you can be accurate. You can get all the facts right, but that doesn’t always make for a compelling read. Authenticity brings the feeling to the story. Good crime fiction needs both. I think readers will forgive a few inaccuracies, but they’re much less likely to forgive characters that just don’t feel right.

That gives me pause as a first-time novelist. You’d think three decades of policing would make writing a crime fiction novel easy. It doesn’t. Knowing how the system works and making that feel real on paper are two very different things. Small stuff, the details, are waiting in the wings to trip you up.

Take my opening chapter. The first victim in The Ledger was born on Friday the 13th of December. I like the line, but the year of birth I gave him, 1969, was wrong. The 13th was a Saturday that year, so now he’s a year older than he used to be. Would anyone else have noticed? Probably not, but someone might have. It was a small detail, but it was wrong. Now it isn’t.

I don’t worry so much about getting procedures right in The Ledger, partly because I know them quite well, but also because I know readers will be a little forgiving if it’s not completely accurate. What I worry more about are the characters. How do Daniel and Sian interact? How do they behave when they’re tired, scared or lying to each other? If I can get those things right, make people feel them, then I can take the odd liberty with the procedures. Get the characters wrong, and people will smell the inauthenticity a mile away. I know I would.

So, I’ll keep checking the details, making sure the story is as accurate as possible, but I won’t sweat the small stuff when it comes to procedure. I’ll concentrate on the characters, making them as real as I can, and hopefully you’ll love them, or despise them, as much as I do.

P.S. – What detail in a crime novel made you stop and think, they actually know this? Or the one that had you rolling your eyes? Hit reply and let me know.

KEN LYONS Author ​kenlyonsauthor.com​ ​​

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