Misdirection in novel writing mimics life. As the misdirected, we are led down a predictable path, the “garden” path. We believe that no on has remembered our birthday, or that our significant other has let our anniversary slip by. I once believed I would dramatically underperform in a major organic chemistry class.
Why? Because all of the signs were there. We were encouraged to believe one event was likely because the pre-event facts didn’t tell us what would happen, but suggested what was coming. They didn’t tell us what to think, they merely suggested ideas, until, wham, the stunner hits. The surprise party, an anniversary trip, or a great final exam score. We are overwhelmed, even shocked by the sudden direction change. Creating a surprise is, let’s face it, setting a trap for your reader. You encourage them to anticipate one event, letting the prior scenes not tell, but suggest what’s coming. And then they are whipsawed into something else. And the greater the misdirection, the greater your reader’s surprise, their absorption in the book, and their memory of the event. They may never forget it. Great misdirection keeps the reader in the book.
Here is an example from Catching Cold: Breakthrough. This is a an email from conniving lawyer Cassie Rhoades to an accountant, Breanna Vaughn who is working for CiliCold, a company that Cassie is trying to destroy.
Date: February 8, 2016 Subject: Breanna
Thank you for your messages this week concerning CiliCold. We now think that we have a good sense about the direction of the company. As you know, we have not been so interested in the flu vaccine production component of the company’s work.
Cassie paused. Her headache was shrinking. She’d have to remember this brand of tea. She looked down at her waiting iPhone. Something was missing from the email. It’s confidential, she thought, so why not take Breanna further into her confidence?
You should know that we are moving ahead with plans for the acquisition of CiliCold. The notion of programming immune cells to react to certain viruses, to make a “super-vaccine”, would be a practical application of Dr. DeLeon’s work. We would of course need the worker materials of Luiz and to some extent Dale, although his contribution to this aspect of the project is unclear.
Breanna would like that last part, she thought. She doesn’t think much of Dale. But, if this email was going to build Breanna up, then Breanna would need to hear more. And Cassie knew that she needed to say more.
You have been through so much these past months. Since our first meeting last week, I have reflected on whether there is anything else SSS can do for you. Despite my best efforts, I am falling short of providing all that you need.
Not good enough. Cassie licked her lips. Breanna was going through hell at work. The infighting. DeLeon’s distractions, Rayiko’s absence. Breanna needed support. Not like a sister far away, but a friend. Closer.
You should know that I think of you and Jackie often. You are so helpful to me. I am here for you. You have my number if you would like to call me.
Say what you thinking, Cassie, the urgent voice whispered. Write, write, write. I want nothing more than to have you with me, holding you. Sweet mouth on mouth. Running my tongue along your long neck and then your delicious breasts as you stretch out next to me. Our naked bodies as one. Wetting my fingers. Putting them on you, in you. Be my love and come to me soon.
Headache gone, Cassie studied the message for a minute. Then, she deleted all but the first paragraph, saved that part in the drafts folder for Breanna, and headed back to bed.
What? This started as a surreptitious exchange of information, then turned into a surprise sexual overture, with an abrupt reversal. Here is another example from Saving Grace
Josh and Lindsey’s first two days in Maryland were a blizzard of activity. Lindsey was pulled into closer orbit around the Armstrong sun, and Josh prepared to start his third year at the University of Baltimore. There was no way for them to take the time to buy a house, but Armstrong, as Hamilton promised, came to their rescue. The company had a top realtor from a local premier company visit with them. Appointments were set up to begin the search process. In the meantime, Armstrong arranged for Lindsey and Josh to move into a new home that the company owned. It was in the perfectly manicured lawn of this Armstrong home that Josh strolled in on his way back from the mailbox Thursday morning. The first lawn I ever owned, Josh thought, bare feet squishing around in the lush, Virginia rye grass. Well not really owned, he remembered. Leased? No. Rented? No. Actually, it was, well borrowed. Kind of like an interest-free loan. Compliments of Armstrong Pharmaceuticals. Josh shook his head in bewilderment as he walked back from the mailbox, the two unopened envelopes from Cornell in his hand. He had gotten up early with Lindsey, doing some unpacking for a couple of hours after she’d gone to work. But the clear morning air, full of the call of birds that he never heard before, beckoned him, and when he heard the mail truck, he walked outside. Tucking the two envelopes in his pocket, he continued his morning inspection of this state they called “Maryland.” Filled his lungs with fresh Frederick air. Clean, light, alive. He was more convinced than ever that he had made the right decision. The three days since they moved down here were a blizzard of activity. They arrived on Tuesday, and bought two new cars Wednesday. Neither of them had ever owned a car before, he thought. Now, they owned two. They actually had to work with the “fleet salesman,” at the Lexus dealership. And yesterday, he remembered, they moved into this castle. He turned to look back at the small mansion he and Gee had to themselves — a 4,500 foot, four bedroom, two story model. Plus, we can stay here for months if we need to, he thought. It sat on a huge lot. Three acres. Josh didn’t know an acre from an acorn, yet here he was, New York feet swirling around in the soft grass. He felt drunk without the alcohol. He pulled the two letters from his pocket, and opened the first, revealing the stellar grades he expected. Not a bad way to finish at Cornell, he thought, moving to the second letter. Again, as expected. It was from his Cornell academic advisor, confirming his withdrawal. J Just like I thought. Just as it should be. Gee had been commuting for a couple of months, yet she seemed chronically behind. Well, she loves it, he thought. Even though she didn’t get home till after eight at night. Least she’s not far from home. Just three miles. Still time to drive home in the light. U of B? Now that was a different story, he remembered. Thirty-five miles northeast. Not a problem, with a – strike that – with two new cars. He planned to cruise on over to Baltimore later today to check out the campus and start to get into the swing of things there. Crushing the letters in his hand, he sauntered back into the house, walking through the furniture-less empty living room and den, that served as echo chambers, to his new “office,” the first floor spare bedroom. Boxes of books and pads were everywhere. With Bruce Mitchell’s Celtic Sanctity CD playing in the background, Josh lost himself in the a box labeled “MS-1” that was jam packed with first year medical school notes. He jerked his head up out of the box at the loud noise, heart catching at the sound. What’s that? Braying? Naying? Whinnying? Whatever sound a horse makes, the house was now full of it. The windows were open, but it sounds like it’s coming from inside? How could that could be. It’s…it’s in this room. What the─ He looked over at his cell phone, vibrating across the floor as it continued to emit the horse imitation. He smiled. Gee had programmed that horse ringer in my phone. Welcome to Frederick, Maryland. Half crawling and half rolling across the floor, he reached his cell, popping it open in mid-nay. “Hi-yo Silva,” he said into the cell. “What’s up?” “Hello, hello? I’m calling for Mr. Silva. Josh Silva.” Josh didn’t recognize the voice. “Er…yes, uh. this is Mr. Silva,” he stammered. Thinking that it was probably the realtor. Wants to get started looking for a house. Too bad. This castle is growing on me, he thought. “Thank goodness,” the woman’s voice said. “We had to call New York to get this number. Please hold for Dean Gleason.” Josh’s breath caught as he sat up straight, bewildered. New York to get the number? The Dean’s name at Cornell was Yu. This must be U of B. He relaxed some now. The school of medicine was calling to tell him they knew about the transfer. Of course. It made perfect sense. The Josh-ball had been smoothly handed off from New York to Maryland, and he was headed for a touchdown, Baltimore style. Better unpack later, and get dressed for the trip to school now. “Hello,” he said with growing excitement, wondering if he needed a map. “Mr. Silva, this is Dean Gleason, Hello? Don’t go anywhere Corinne. I’ll just be a minute. Mr. Silva? Mr. Silva? Are you there? How are you?” “Yes. Yes, Josh answered with glee. “I’m here. Just fine, sir. In fact, I’m getting ready to drive over to the school, I mean your medical school, to sign up for Year Three.” “No. Don’t do that, young man. We agreed to accept you into our third year class here—” “Yes, yes, I─” “—however, I’m afraid that we can’t do that right now.”
The sudden death of a future in medicine. With no warning. One minute Josh is enjoying the green, green grass of northern Maryland. The next his career is over. Such is the nature of surprises. A useful way to introduce misdirection is to think in nonlinear directions. It’s easy to consider a character as developing at the same direction and speed through the book, either improving their personality, or degrading it. That certainly is a necessary component. But we human beings don’t develop that way. We are impacted by unpredictable conversations and surprising events. So once you have the linear component of the character’s development, begin to see how that would be interrupted, sometimes taking you further from your goal for the character, sometimes bringing you closer. Then define the surprise. Pregnancy, or prison or an election to a county seat? Once you have the surprise, then write prior scenes that not only provide a clue for the surprise, but develop the character in another way. Have the character join a chastity group in church, or enroll in a police academy. When the reader is comfortable, then, like life, spring the trap. Be nonlinear.
