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In real life, I dread someone wanting to tell me a secret. I mean, there’s so much going on in my head already, the odds on me remembering that something mustn’t be disclosed aren’t good. Give it a few years and I might forget it completely, so there won’t be a risk I’ll blurt it out but as I view that stage of life with the same level of enthusiasm I now reserve for contemplating my depressing hair (colour indeterminate, condition terrible, thanks for asking), additional chins and an accelerating acceptance of elastic waistbands and Velcro shoe fastenings, forgive me for not potato-printing my own bunting just yet.

Secrets in books, however, are a totally different kettle of fish, usually including a splendid smattering of red herrings. So much fiction is driven by the secret at the heart of the matter, and the contract between writer and reader is beautifully summed up by Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code and other multimillion bestsellers. Introducing his online writing masterclass, he says:

Suspense is all about making promises to your reader.

You’re telling your reader,

‘I know something you don’t know,

but I promise I’ll tell you if you keep going.

Consciously or not, as readers we do expect that promise to be honoured. Imagine getting to the end of a murder mystery and the author doesn’t reveal whodunnit. Or wheels on some character you’ve never met before – some random assassin dragged up from the sewers of anonymity. Or writes, ‘Reader, I married him’ and we haven’t the faintest idea who the groom actually is.

We can debate ‘til the cows come home whether readers want characters they can identify with, including at least one they really like (spoiler alert – some do; some don’t) but not many people like to close a book with the question ‘What happened?’ left unresolved.

If, as a writer, you dangle a secret in front of your readers, and don’t disclose it, expect a Twitter pile-on. Don’t mess with secrets. Anne R. Allen’s excellent blog has a fascinating piece by Ruth Harris, who says Secrets are the engine that keep a story moving forward.

Secrets are everywhere in fiction, from the parentage of the foundling baby, to the double- or triple-crossing spy, to Grandma’s secret recipe for apple crumble, to the benevolent lie that backfires horribly.

Ruth Harris identifies nine key types of secrets:

1. Secrets with A Silver Lining

Silver lining secrets are reassuring, well suited to romantic fiction. I’m always struck by the godmother device – eccentric Aunt Agatha pops off, leaving penniless niece a tumbledown cottage in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere in that cottage – up a chimney? Under a loose floorboard? In a secret drawer in the woodwormy old bureau? – lies a vitally important scrap of paper. And away we go. Just like that.

2. State Secrets

State Secrets are high-stake, involving the fate of nations as well as individuals, so are perfect material for thrillers. Observing some recent populist governments with their penchant for dodgy deals, mates’ rates and creative relationship with international law, I can’t help thinking there will be no shortage of material for future generations of thriller writers.

3. Secret Baby

Unwanted babies, adoptions or disputed parentage can be found in dark tragedies as well as light comedies. I’m thinking Mamma Mia here! A visitor to the village wouldn’t let her young teenage girls watch it, on the grounds that it sanctions and trivialises immorality. The other members of my coven – I mean friendship group – were surprised by her stance, but then, we did live through the Sixties. An interesting diversion – in the past, the prim spinster has been a stock character in fiction. On behalf of old biddies everywhere, let me say right now that won’t wash anymore! Some of us take a certain delight in our racy pasts – and if you’re not nimble enough, thou might be stopp’st by our gliittering eye and told the entire Ancient Rime. (Long grey beard optional.)

4. Family Secrets

Family secrets proliferate in sagas, memoirs and fiction aimed at women. Poor Bertha Mason, aka Mrs Rochester, locked away in the attic, may exist only in Jane Eyre, but the dodgy lodger with the wandering hands, best avoided on the stairs but whose rent money is desperately needed; the relatives whose problems with drink, drugs or shoplifting are the stuff of whispers and worry; the acrimony over inheritance and doctored wills and more are frequently found lurking in the shadows of the most well-ordered families and have a way of finding themselves immortalised in prose.

5. Dark Secrets

These are the secrets at the heart of mysteries. They can often be found in close-knit communities, or organisations where those in the know close ranks. They can lie, half-forgotten, for decades, but as the old saying goes, ‘The truth will out.’ By then, many people have a vested interest in the truth staying hidden. Reputations and relationships are on the line, and our intrepid main character may be under pressure to let sleeping dogs lie.

6. Open Secrets

Open secrets are the emperor-has-no-clothes, category of secrets. Unlike the previous category, the secret is not half-forgotten. Everyone knows. It’s just never acknowledged – and then someone says something, and the mayhem commences.

7. Secrets We Keep from Ourselves

When our main character deceives herself about her true nature, the consequences can be far-reaching. The journey towards truth and some kind of acceptance makes for engrossing reading, as most readers can resonate with someone who would rather live with a comfortable delusion than an uncomfortable reality. There’s also the kind of secret we are unable to access because, as children, we are in great danger if we tell the truth. Abusers thrive on that kind of secrecy. Some of us will know the life-changing benefits of skilled therapy as we are helped to shed the burdens of the past.

8. Secret Dreams

Cinderella is a beloved secret dream story. We might not all be wanting to hook a Prince. but the dream of transformation lies deep within us. Cue the Fairy Godmother. Or eccentric Aunt Agatha or some other secret benefactor. Or winning the Lottery. Or visiting a hairdresser after months of lockdown. Or seeing your book on display in Waterstones. Or all of them – every single, delicious, jackpot-hitting one of them.

9. Secret Super Power?

Give your imagination free rein! You may not be quiet, unassuming Clark Kent, slipping into a phone box to emerge as Superman, but remember that funny feeling you got when you happened to catch a glance between two colleagues and knew instantly that they were having an affair? Or when you were nine, at Auntie Joan’s wedding, and asked your mum when the baby was due? Or woke up crying because you knew the cat had been run over? Or had a classic near-death experience during labour? Or knew the minute your sister gave birth? Or to the second when a beloved family member died? OK – those are all mine – but I bet you have yours. Compared to super powers, these everyday premonitions may seem like small beer, but to me, these fascinating glimpses into something other-worldly, the connections beneath the surface, form the basis for science fiction and fantasy.

This all began courtesy of Dan Brown, so I’ll leave you with something else he said:

There are elements that must be in a good story:

the contract, the clock and the crucible.

Despite having spent my impressionable years gracing the boards and appearing in Arthur Miller’s wonderful play, The Crucible, I wasn’t sure what Dan Brown meant. Christopher Mart explained (and also summarised what sounds like a very worthwhile course in writing thrillers, possibly saving us all lots of money…)

The clock means you have a sense of urgency…

the crucible means the hero has no way out but to jump into the fire …

the contract means you’ve made a promise to the reader.

Just a handful of words – but that handful of words is packed with possibilities, and that is what makes reading and writing so compelling.

This post originally featured on the Enterprising Writer blog on the 17th of March, 2021.