Gaby's Unified Theory of Crime Novels.

Over the past year, I have noticed that most crime novels I have read follow almost the same structure. Presented below is that structure. Follow it, and you could become a best selling crime novelist.

1) Title

Crime novels should always have "The" as the first word of the title. If you have a title in mind for a crime novel and it doesn't start with "The", rethink the title. A crime novel title should also make reference to an animal or a woman (or better yet, an animal which is being used to REPRESENT a woman). Recommended, but not essential is to have a location in the title as well. This can be a place, like London, or just a setting such as a forest.

Example: The Woman In The Woods.

2) Set-up

Crime novels must always feature a protagonist who has recently gone through a TRAUMATIC LIFE EVENT (TLE). This can be anything from the breakup of a relationship, to the death of a child or a failure to catch a serial killer.
 The usual way to achieve this is to have the protagonist be a grizzled old detective, who is somewhat down on his luck. It is absolutely imperative for the protagonist to harbour some sort of guilt or complex about the TLE. This will be important later.

Example: A grizzled old detective, who since his daughter drowned in an icy lake has been unable to concentrate properly at work. He has been drinking heavily, his wife no longer speaks to him and he is now deathly afraid of swimming, reminding him as it does of plunging desperately into the aforementioned icy lake to save his poor daughter.

3) The Case

There are two set-ups which can be used with regards to the case which the novel will focus on. Either the protagonist is a detective (private or otherwise) who is assigned the case OR the protagonist stumbles onto the case through work (for example, a man goes to work in an amusement arcade, and hears about a murder which happened there many years ago, which remains unsolved.)
The case should always be about a killer or serial killer. If you make it about a paedophile people will just find it weird. The case should always pertain to somewhere familiar to the author. It could be set in your home city, a cherished childhood holiday memory location (a beach front town for example) or a place of work.
 The killer should always have some sort of DISTINGUISHING FEATURE, such as a scar or tattoo, identified by a victim or a witness.

Example: A grizzled old detective, who is somewhat down on his luck and struggling with guilt over the death of his daughter is assigned to solve a series of murders in the local nature park. The only clue is that the murderer has a large burn on his neck, identified by a woman who he attempted to kill, but who escaped.

4) Solving The Case

This is the most important part of any crime novel. The first thing which has to happen is for your protagonist to get to the location of the case. The first friendly person they meet when they get there is the murderer. This person is the GUY YOU WOULD NEVER SUSPECT (GYWNS). The GYWNS has a quirk. They should also come into contact with a DECIDEDLY SINISTER INDIVIDUAL (DSI) at this location. Casually toss in that the DSI is wearing something which is not appropriate for the weather, which could conceal the DISTINGUISHING FEATURE. This will make the reader suspicious, but they will also think themselves clever for noticing this detail. Because they could be a detective if they weren't an insurance salesman (or woman. Free your minds, yeah?).

Example: The grizzled old detective makes his way to the nature park. He is greated by a tall thin man, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He shakes the hand of this man, and the two share a coffee, where the man tells the detective about the journal he keeps every day. The grizzled old detective looks out of the window, and he notices the man chopping up the trees is wearing a scarf, despite the hot weather.

Some time passes. The protagonist observes the DSI. The DSI is generally chippy and unpleasant. In contrast, the GYWNS is always on hand to say something reassuring like "oh don't mind that fellow". The DSI does many things which cause the protagonist to believe them to be the murderer. The reader thinks "ah, I knew it" and pats themselves on the back. Eventually, the protagonist confonts the DSI only to find... THEY DO NOT HAVE THE DISTINGUISHING FEATURE!

Example: The grizzled old detective tears the scarf from the throat of the park worker... and sees no scar!

Oh, you've got them intrigued now! At this point, the protagonist should either give up, or be taken off the case. They should confide in a significant other. This does not necessarily have to be a wife or husband. It could be a retarded kid, or a colleague.
Having confided in a significant other, the protagonist should now start thinking about the case. This is when they realise... it was the GYWNS! All the protagonist needs is one last little bit of evidence...

Example: The grizzled old detective realises... the tall, thin man must be the killer! He's been covering his scars with makeup! Now, if only he could get a hold of the journal the man writes in, he could solve the case!

Sadly, at the same time as the protagonist has figured out that GYWNS is the killer, GYWNS has taken the significant other hostage. GYWNS tells the protagonist to meet him at a location, or he will kill the significant other. This place should be related to the TLE.

Example: The tall, thin man calls the grizzled old detective. "Meet me at the frozen lake in the park," he says "Or I will kill this retarded kid."

The protagonist has to overcome their complex to save the significant other.
Alternate ending: The protagonist is taken hostage, and the significant other solves the case independently and rescues the protagonist at the last minute.

The killer (GYWNS) dies. They always die. That's very important. Tack on a happy ending.

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Ok, that's basically it. Feel free to add some names into this plot and publish The Woman In The Woods. Remember to put something in about a woman in the woods. Should be pretty easy, just make the victim female and in the woods.

Here is a list of the Top 100 Crime Novels Of All Time: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Top_100_Crime_Novels_of_All_Time.
 Have a read of the plot synopses. Observe the titles. The theory works.

EDIT: This also works for Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone.

5 May 2002 - A football related trip down memory lane.

11 years ago today. I feel old. That's the day that Juventus overtook Inter on the last day of the season, to win the league. They used to show the full match at something like 1am, on Channel 4, and my parents wouldn't let me stay up to watch it (and I didn't know the score, because the internet hadn't been invented. Or if it had, it hadn't reached Scotland). So I had to get the late-night repeat of the match recorded, to watch the following morning. In this case there were extended highlights of Lazio v Inter, Udinese v Juventus and Torino v Roma, as all three were in the title picture.

 That was the final season that Italian football was on Channel 4, and it now seems that day was the end of an era. Ask any of my friends about Channel 4 Football Italia and they'll smile, and recall watching the highlights of a previous weekend on a Sunday morning. The cry of "Golazo!" (great goal) in the title credits mistaken by almost everyone for "Go Lazio!" They had already dispensed with live matches on a Sunday afternoon, hence the match being shown at some stupid time in the morning.

Now kids, a video is a kind of big square DVD. Except it had some foil inside it, which the video was written on to. Or something. So I had to ask my dad to put one of these big square boxes of foil into the video player, and record the match that night.

Anyway, I got up at about 6am, without knowing what had happened. I'm not sure why, given it was a Monday (Italy's football day is Sunday, not Saturday like in this country) but I wasn't at school that day.

Anyway, it's 6am. Inter only have to beat Lazio to win the title. Juventus are a point behind, and playing away to Udinese. Roma are a point behind Juventus and playing away to Torino. So anyone could win it. I'm sitting in my bedroom, volume turned down to almost inaudible levels, so I don't wake the house up. Posters of Del Piero, Nedved, Trezeguet and Buffon, taken from the Football Italia magazine are on my wall. I'm wearing my replica kit - that season's one, with FASTWEB written across it. I didn't know what FASTWEB was. I still don't. Nor did I know what Roma's INA Assitalia was. It all seemed hopelessly exotic, depsite the fact I'm sure these were web providers or banks or something. I refuse to look it up. It will ruin the mystique.

Lazio's fans hate the thought of handing Juventus or Roma the title, so they're actually supporting against their own team.

Juve go up 2-0 within 25 mins. Meanwhile, in Rome, Inter take a lead through Luigi Di Biagio. Karel Poborsky, Manchester United legend (probably), equalises. But surely they'll be ok when Christian Vieri puts Inter back in front? Lazio have other ideas. Poborsky equalises again. Then, to the disgust of everyone in the stadium, they then score a further two in the second half to win 4-2. Simone Inzaghi and Diego Simeone putting the nail in Inter's coffin. Roma win 1-0 at Torino with a lovely Cassano chip. So Inter go from 1st to 3rd within 90 minutes and Juventus take the title, on the bench for Inter, Ronaldo cries.

So why the blog post?
Nostalgia basically. Nostalgia for the days when you couldn't just check the scores from the Belgian league on your phone. Taping a match from Serie A to watch in the morning is something that won't happen to anyone growing up these days. You can get it all on the internet. Nostalgia for sight of James Richardson holding the Gazzetta Dello Sport on Channel 4 on a Sunday morning. Nostalgia because most of the players involved in those games have retired or moved on. Nedved, Ronaldo, Peruzzi, Vieri, Thuram. All players I grew up watching. All retired. Del Piero is in Sydney. Trezeguet is in Argentina. Only Buffon and Totti are still with their clubs.
Antonio Conte who played that day is now Juventus manager, and can win his second title today. A player I grew up watching is now the Juventus manager.

Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's because I think of my life in football seasons. Maybe it's that your football team (or teams, as I am hopelessly devoted to Kilmarnock and Juventus) is pretty much the only constant in your life (You can change pretty much anything: job, car, haircut, spouse, gender... but you can never change your football team). But this morning I'm very aware of the unstoppable movement of time. 11 years. 11 years from now I'll be 32. Yet I still remember this like it was yesterday. You think I had to look up the names of the goalscorers from that day? Ha!

They say time waits for no man. I think they're right.

I'm sorry Scotland, I wash my hands of you.

There's little that beats the roar of a full-to-capacity Hampden Park on a Scotland match day. The flaccid dirge 'Flower Of Scotland', when roared by 50,000 Tartan Army footsoldiers becomes an anthem which would make the Gods tremble in the heavens. I've seen victories over France and Holland. I've seen agonising and glorious defeat against World Champions Spain and Italy. I've seen crushing defeats to Belarus. One of my earliest memories, is of - as an uninterested-in-football 6 year old - celebrating with my dad in the living room as Scotland scored a penalty against Brazil. But tonight, I'm done. I'm going AWOL from the Tartan Army. I'm going homeward to think again. I'm washing my hands of the Scottish National Football Team.

This isn't something I say lightly, or happily. I certainly don't consider myself a fair-weather supporter. But tonight something happened, that I never dreamed possible. As I stood in the freezing snow. As the brain donors around me screaming abuse at the peaceful and up-for-a-laugh Welsh fans who huddled just metres away. As yet another Welsh passing move evaded the Scottish defence. I wanted us to lose. Not because it would vindicate my pessimistic pre-game predictions, but simply because Scotland were so bad. I couldn't bear the thought of those spit-flecked lips around me turning into smug grins as our team snatched a totally undeserved win. I'm not saying I was happy when Wales scored. I wasn't. I simply had a feeling of justice being done. I wanted us to lose.

What makes this different from any other Scotland defeat? Truthfully, I don't know. I think it's that this Scotland team is not just useless. They're hopeless, in the purest sense of the word. There isn't, as far as I can see, any prospect of us - them - reaching a major tournament in the next decade. There are no exciting young talents waiting to burst into the team. Six or seven years ago, the prospects for Scotland looked bright. There was a genuinely talented group of players emerging. What has become of those players? Craig Gordon, Darren Fletcher and John Kennedy have suffered with illness and injury. They probably won't play for their country again. James McFadden and Kevin Thomson have had 3 years on the sidelines. Kris Boyd, Garry O'Connor and Derek Riordan have squandered their considerable talents. The team today is made up of average Premiership footballers, seemingly included because of who they play for rather than how they play. Several of them are English. I'm not anti-English. I was born in London. But what connection does Liam Bridcutt have to Scotland? And we to him? I'm not saying they don't care or aren't trying, of course they are and of course they do. I'm just trying to rationalise the detachment I feel from the Scotland team today.

Scotland are bottom of Group A with 2 points from 4 games. 3 of those games were at home. It's entirely conceivable, that with two games with Croatia and trips to Serbia and Macedonia to come, Scotland will not accrue any more points in the campaign. Attendances at Hampden will dwindle, and I can't blame those who stay away - Christ, I'll be one of them. And if Scotland miraculously improve? The incorrigibles who have suffered through this campaign will be shunted out, to make room for anyone who has paid for the privilege of joining the Scotland Supporter's Club. And that's what I kept coming back to, as I stood shivering on the terrace, the March snow stinging my face - I'd rather have been anywhere else. The cinema, the pub... even at work. I couldn't even bring myself to be angry with the team, I felt only a deep sense of embarrassment that a team - MY team - could be so fundamentally AWFUL as they were in the first half hour.

So that's it. I withdraw my support. I simply do not care about the Scottish National Football team anymore. I think, as it so often does, The Simpsons captured the feeling perfectly:

Lisa: Why do you hate the team so much, Dad? 
Homer: Because I loved them once and they broke my heart. Let that be a lesson to you, sweetie. Never love anything.