Let’s play a quick game of Would You Rather? — Thriller Edition. Here are your choices:

1. Would you rather read a thriller about a missing person or a suspicious death?

Both are irresistible in different ways. Take the missing person scenario. Are they alive? Hiding? Taken? Running from something? So many possibilities…

I explored this theme in ‘The Second Captive’, and I’ll probably write another novel covering this topic. A suspicious death, on the other hand, brings its own dark satisfaction: who doesn’t love a good whodunnit novel?

2. Would you rather have an unreliable narrator or a character with a hidden past?

The unreliable narrator keeps us questioning the story itself. I examined this theme in ‘Heart of Bone’. Greer Maddox is a damaged woman, grieving the death of her son – can we rely on everything she tells us?

A hidden past, however, keeps us watching for cracks in someone’s carefully polished surface. I had fun exploring this in my novel ‘Guilty Innocence’. In that book, Mark is concealing a dark secret, one that will of course be revealed, creating havoc in his life. His fault for volunteering to be a character! 

3. Would you rather read a slow-burn thriller or one that starts with a shocking event?

I love a thriller in which the tension builds slowly but inexorably, keeping the reader hooked.  There’s also something compelling about a book that opens with chaos and keeps the conflict high. Which works better probably depends on the plot. Some stories suit a slow burn; others work best with high-octane thrills.

4. Would you rather have a glamorous setting or an ordinary place that feels unsafe?

I mentioned this in last week’s post. A luxury hotel, remote island, or grand old house can be hugely atmospheric. But there’s also something gripping about a normal street, a family kitchen, or a familiar walk home that feels wrong. Maybe it’s because ordinary places usually offer fewer places to hide.

5. Would you rather guess the twist early or be completely blind-sided?

Me? I prefer to be taken by surprise. I get that readers derive pleasure in spotting tiny clues and thinking, ‘Aha, I know what’s going on here’. But there’s also huge satisfaction in being wrong-footed by a twist that fits perfectly yet was hiding in plain sight all along.

Now it’s your turn:

Which would you choose in each case — and which question was the hardest?

There are many things I love about psychological thrillers, but if I had to narrow it down, these five would be high on the list.

1. Secrets
Not just any secrets, but the sort that pretend to be harmless, while everyone else gets on with making tea and lying to each other. You just know that those secrets are going to spill out before long, creating angst for all concerned.

2. Uncertainty
I love not knowing whom to believe. Is the narrator mistaken? Lying? Traumatised? Manipulated? All of the above?

In real life, uncertainty is exhausting. In psychological thrillers, it’s entertaining.

3. Ordinary places made sinister (I’ll be posting more about this next week)
A kitchen. A spare bedroom. A quiet street. A family home.

Psychological thrillers remind us that danger doesn’t arrive wearing a black cloak and accompanied by dramatic music. Often it’s already sitting at the breakfast table, buttering toast.

4. Characters who are complicated rather than simply “good” or “bad”
I’m drawn to characters who make poor choices for understandable reasons. People who are flawed, conflicted, frightened, proud, grieving, jealous, loyal, self-deceiving — in other words, all too human. The best thrillers don’t just ask: ‘What happened?’ They also ask: ‘Why would someone do this? Behave this way?’

5. That one-more-chapter pull
You know the feeling. You’re tired. You should go to sleep. You’ve brushed your teeth, climbed into bed, and made a firm and oh-so-adult decision. One quick chapter won’t hurt, though.

Then a scene ends with a revelation, a compelling line of dialogue, or someone doing something they definitely shouldn’t. Suddenly it’s midnight and your sensible adult self has left the building. Then it’s one o’clock, two o’clock…  

For me, that happens all too often. I’m currently reading ‘The Good Father’ by Liam McIlvanney, and I found it difficult last night to put it down and switch off the light. It’s an intriguing read!

Over to you…
What’s the one thing that makes a psychological thriller impossible for you to put down?

When it comes to psychological thrillers, I often think the most unsettling settings are ordinary ones. A quiet street. The family kitchen. Maybe a spare bedroom or the back garden. A seaside town out of season, when the cafés are closed and the beach is deserted.

There’s something powerful about taking a place that should feel safe and making the reader view it differently. When danger creeps into an ordinary setting, it feels more personal. The unease comes from the tiny, and jarring, shift between ‘everything is normal’ and ‘something is wrong here’.

I think that’s one of the reasons domestic suspense thrillers work so well. The genre takes the places associated with comfort — homes, marriages, families, friendships, routines — and asks what might be hidden underneath them. In these novels, it’s always something dark and disturbing. The best thriller settings don’t just provide a backdrop. They add pressure. Make characters feel watched, trapped, exposed, while in the comfort of their own home.

Do you prefer thrillers set in dramatic locations, or ordinary places where something feels slightly wrong?

I’ve just read ‘Famous Last Words’ by Gillian McAllister. It’s one of those thrillers that immediately makes you realise you’re going to stay up all night reading it. In my case, I started reading at 10.30pm, switched off the light at 4am, and finished the book the next morning. Here’s the premise:

Camilla is returning to work as a literary agent after maternity leave. Her baby daughter is starting nursery. It should be one of those chaotic but ordinary milestone days.

Except her husband Luke has disappeared.

Then disturbing news breaks: there’s a hostage situation unfolding in London. The police tell Camilla that Luke is caught up in it.

And then comes the twist: Luke isn’t one of the hostages. He’s the gunman.

Camilla’s dilemma is painful. She adores her fun, chatty husband, who works as a ghostwriter and is well-liked. He’s a devoted husband and father. What can Camilla do when the evidence points squarely in one direction, but her emotions indicate another? How long can she believe in him against all the odds?

What Gillian McAllister does so well is take a high-concept thriller situation and anchor it in something very human: the terrifying idea that someone you love might have an entire hidden life. Not a small secret or a harmless omission, but something much darker. My novel ‘Guilty Innocence’ is based on an entirely different premise, yet the central question is the same: how well do we really know the people closest to us?

The pacing is excellent; this novel is definitely a page-turner, as my 4am reading binge proved. It’s tense, readable, and cleverly structured, but for me the real pull was psychological rather than purely plot-driven. The uncomfortable questions Camilla has to face. Her loyalty to her husband that’s tested to the limit. The truth about what happened that terrible morning in Bermondsey.

The subplots are also intriguing, such as the conflict experienced by Niall, the hostage negotiator, whose commitment to his job clashes with his marriage. Niall is a likeable, relatable character, who is as keen as Camilla to uncover Luke’s secrets. Then there’s Camilla’s strained relationship with Libby, who’s battling infertility and resents her sister for having borne a child. Her unwavering support for her client Adam, who’s struggling to write again after the runaway success of his debut novel.

‘Famous Last Words’ is a very satisfying read for anyone who enjoys domestic suspense with a strong hook and a deeply emotional core.

Time for another entry in my “Five” series — and this one is just for fun. Can you identify these famous psychological thrillers from their six-word plot descriptions?

1. Wife disappears. Husband becomes prime suspect.
2. Woman spies obsessively from passing train.
3. New wife haunted by husband’s past.
4. Man trapped inside deadly fan’s home.
5. Psychiatrist investigates patient. Nothing adds up.

How many can you guess without Googling? Give me your answers in the comments!

As someone who both reads and writes psychological thrillers, I’ve noticed that characters in these books have a remarkable talent for making terrible decisions.

Without those decisions, of course, there probably wouldn’t be a story.

Still, here are five things psychological thriller characters should absolutely never do…

1. Go into the basement/woods/abandoned building alone
Particularly at night. Especially after hearing a strange noise. Nothing good has ever come of this.

2. Ignore obvious red flags
If your charming new neighbour knows far too much about you, appears unexpectedly outside your workplace, and flirts a lot… then don’t invite him in for coffee. Again, nothing good will happen.

3. Keep crucial information from the police
Psychological-thriller protagonists (mine included!) love saying things like:
“I can’t tell the police. It’ll ruin everything.”
Usually moments before everything is ruined anyway.

4. Decide to investigate things personally
No, you probably should not break into somebody’s house armed only with a torch and misplaced confidence. The homeowner will ALWAYS return, leaving you trapped.

5. Read that mysterious diary/email/text message immediately before bed
Congratulations. You’ve just uncovered something deeply disturbing at 11:47pm and there is now zero chance of a restful night.

That said, flawed decisions are part of what makes psychological thrillers so addictive. Rational, emotionally balanced people who communicate clearly and make sensible choices tend not to generate much suspense.

Which probably explains why readers keep turning the pages.

What’s your favourite bad decision made by a psychological thriller character?

I’ve just finished reading ‘Anything You Do Say’ by Gillian McAllister — and I absolutely loved it.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its structure. The novel uses a Sliding Doors-style concept, following two parallel versions of Joanna’s life after a single split-second decision.

Walking home alone late at night, Joanna hears footsteps behind her. Earlier that evening, she’d been harassed by a predatory man in a bar, and when she glimpses red trainers behind her, she becomes convinced it’s him. Panicking, she pushes the man away. He falls down a flight of steps and lands motionless below.

Joanna has two choices: call 999, wait for the police, and tell the truth — or leave and hope nobody ever discovers what happened.

The novel explores both possibilities, and what makes it so compelling is that neither path offers an easy escape. Whatever Joanna chooses, there are consequences. In one way or another, she is punished.

I also loved the characterisation. Joanna and her husband Reuben, who is central to Joanna’s dilemma, are both flawed, frustrating people, but that only makes them more believable. The writing itself is beautifully controlled too — deep and immersive without ever feeling overdone.

What impressed me most, though, was the ending. As I was reading, I couldn’t fathom how Gillian McAllister was going to resolve the parallel storylines in a satisfying way. Two completely separate endings, like John Fowles’ ‘The French Lieutenant’s Woman’ didn’t feel right to me in this context— and that’s not what happens here. Yet somehow Gillian ties everything together brilliantly.

As someone who writes psychological suspense, I always admire novels that combine a clever premise with emotional depth and strong execution. This one absolutely did.

Have you ever read a novel with an unusual structure that really stayed with you afterwards?

Setting plays a bigger role in my books than readers might realise. A psychological thriller isn’t just about plot and characters — it’s about atmosphere, and location plays a huge part in that.

My earlier books were set in Bristol, where I used to live. I left that city nearly eight years ago, though, and I don’t feel comfortable now using it as a backdrop for my novels. Cities change quickly, and if I’m writing about a place, I want it to be real and current.

These days, I only use Northumbria as a setting. The coastline, castles, and open moorland — it’s beautiful, but also remote. The kind of place where secrets could stay hidden for a long time, and that works well for a psychological thriller. The area also has some unexpected features; while working on Unlocked Lies, I found myself researching local caves — not something Northumbria is especially known for. All part of the writing process!

Some of the most memorable thrillers use location in exactly this way. Think of Rebecca — Manderley isn’t just a backdrop, it’s part of the story’s psychological grip on the reader. The house, the isolation, the atmosphere all deepen the sense of unease.

What about you — do you enjoy stories set in remote, atmospheric locations, or do you prefer the tension of a busy city?

Why are so many of us drawn to dark stories, the kind that feature in psychological thrillers? I think it’s down to a mix of curiosity and fascination. We want to understand people — especially when their behaviour doesn’t make sense. A thriller lets us step into that headspace, exploring motives and decisions we’d never encounter in everyday life. All from a safe distance.

For me, the most satisfying thrillers aren’t just about twists. They’re about why things happen — the hidden motives, the choices that lead to darker places. Those are the stories that are the most memorable. Not only for what they reveal, but for the hidden truth — that people are often far more complicated, and unpredictable, than they first appear.

What about you — what draws you to psychological thrillers?

I’ve always believed that, in many areas of life, less is more. For example, I loathe clutter, and my house reflects that. My pet peeve? When someone talks too much (often mostly about themself!)
 
It’s often what’s not said that carries the most weight.
 
I’ve been reminded of that again recently — both in my writing and, oddly enough, in my garden. I’ve just bought some secateurs to tackle the overgrown areas, and it struck me how similar the process is. You can improve plants by cutting them back, and writing a psychological thriller works in much the same way. Chopping out words often has a bigger impact than adding them. It speeds up the pacing, and stripping back repetition can make a character’s motivation clearer — and sometimes more unsettling.
 
Of course, an author can overdo it. It’s possible to prune too much, the same as with plants. Just as I hate clutter but am not a minimalist, I try not to overedit. Sometimes an extra word makes the sentence flow better, and that’s more important.
 
As I continue editing Unlocked Lies, I’m doing a lot of pruning. Not always easy, especially when it means cutting something I like, but it’s making the story leaner and stronger.
 
And hopefully, harder to put down.