I Didn’t Know I Wrote A Thriller Until I Queried It

Did you know that was even possible?

[Caitlin edit: icymi, Kristin Offiler is writing a series of guest posts for us here at Present Tense in the lead-up to her debut this summer. Her last post dealt with the revision process; today, she makes a case for examining your story through the lens of genre and editing with those conventions in mind. Plus, anyone else ever heard the query-letter “rule” that you need to nail your novel’s genre or agents won’t take you seriously? Add Kristin’s experience to the “not true!” column.]

I have a habit of not knowing what I’m doing with my novels until long after I start writing them.

Back in 2014, I was freewriting one day when a little scene grabbed my attention and refused to let go. For weeks afterward, I wrote more and more about that small snippet of a scene, the characters in it, and the situation they found themselves in. Eventually, I stepped back and realized the freewriting was far too big for a short story. I’d unknowingly stumbled into my first experience writing a novel.

I worked on that book for four years, eventually tucking it into the proverbial drawer when I started querying it and got spooked by the lack of interest.

To cleanse my palate after that, I started writing a new book that was completely different from my first novel. It was contemporary whereas the other book was historic. It had four POVs while the first book only had one. And this time around, I knew I was writing a novel. That’s about all I knew, though.

I spent a year writing the first draft (of what is now my debut novel, coming out this July!) solely on ✨vibes✨. But when I finally read through the first draft manuscript, I quickly realized it wasn’t working. So, I revised it approximately ten million times (see my previous Present Tense guest post for proof) until, many years later, I finally felt like it was ready for querying.

For those who haven’t had the distinct pleasure of querying, this is a process through which many traditionally published authors find an agent to represent their work. It involves writing a query letter that summarizes your project in such a way that agents will hopefully be enticed to read your entire manuscript. In this letter, an author must include the genre or category their book falls into, as well as comparable titles to give prospective agents an idea about how to pitch that book to editors.

When I queried The Housewarming, I pitched it as “upmarket fiction,” which is a made-up category for books that are a blend of literary fiction and book club fiction. It’s like literary fiction with a more commercial hook. I labeled my book as upmarket because, at the time, I thought I was writing a literary novel about female friendship.

WELLLLLL, it turns out, I was sort of wrong.

It was (and still is) a book about female friendship. But then I received five offers of representation from agents, and on almost every single phone call, those agents all suggested my book wasn’t upmarket. As one agent put it, “Your book is dipping its toes into suspense.”

When the first agent mentioned this, I brushed it off and thought maybe she didn’t understand my vision. But when three more agents said something very similar, you better believe I sat up straight and listened. They were all sensing the same thing: my story contained a missing woman, a mystery around her disappearance, a cast of characters who may or may not be involved, and a big reveal… yet I was couching it as upmarket when everyone could see the story wanted to be suspense.

How was it possible that I’d spent four years working on a book and didn’t realize what I was writing?

I still don’t know for sure, but I have some theories. As you know, I started working on this book without any type of plan except “I want this project to feel different than my last book.” Zero plot, zero outline, zero direction. Just my imagination and a dash of VIBES.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with writing a novel without a plan or an outline, but I’ve come to learn that I’m a much happier writer when I do a little bit of planning first. Today, I still start projects with vibes, but those vibes better lead to a loose structure before I commit a single word to paper.

I also wasn’t reading much in the thriller category at the time, so the genre’s conventions weren’t top of mind like they are now for me. I love a mystery, but never thought I could pull off writing one because of how complex they seem. And, honestly, the bulk of my reading and writing up until that point leaned more literary than anything. I didn’t know how to venture outside of the lit fic realm until several professionals told me I was kind of already doing it.

Here’s the thing, though: I didn’t have to make my book lean more into suspense if I didn’t want to. I could’ve politely disagreed with those agents and kept my book the way it was. But I couldn’t unsee it once I started noticing how The Housewarming could be improved.

When I started getting excited about making those changes, I knew shifting genres was the right thing to do. It became clear that I’d written the story one way, but there was another way that I could tell it that the reader might enjoy more. And I firmly believe that a big part of being a novelist is caring for your readers by giving them the strongest, most compelling version of your story.

And now, a few years later, I’m beyond proud of my upcoming thriller and the other books in my mental queue—all of which I’ll be writing with suspense in mind this time, and with a firmer idea of what I’m doing before I start.

Kristin Offiler holds an MFA from Lesley University. Her short fiction has appeared in the Waccamaw Journal, The Bookends Review, The Bookends Review Best of 2020 print anthology, and the Raleigh Review. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading on the porch of her 130-year-old house or exploring charming corners of New England. She lives in Rhode Island with her husband and son. Her debut novel, THE HOUSEWARMING, comes out in July from Thomas & Mercer.

Kristin is also one-half of the duo behind the Substack The Meaning Makers: