My Writing Journey — From First Draft to Final Twist

Every book teaches its author something new. Some lessons are technical. Others are deeply personal. For my latest novel (The Forgotten Corpse - being released soon), the journey from first draft to final twist became less about solving a mystery and more about understanding why truths are hidden — and what it takes to unearth them.

When I first began writing this story, I thought I was crafting a classic mystery: an old villa, a collapsed pool revealing something buried beneath, and a cast of characters moving toward revelation. But very early on, the narrative stopped serving the genre it was trying to be — and began serving something richer.

The story became less about who did it and more about what we do with what we discover.

Lessons from the First Draft

In those earliest chapters, the plot moved like a traditional puzzle. I planted clues, sketched red herrings, and set up questions with the intention of surprising readers with a clever resolution. But as the draft unfolded, it became clear that the emotional truth of the story wasn’t in what was hidden, but in why it stayed hidden for so long.

My protagonist is not a detective. He’s an engineer — someone whose expertise involves diagnosing problems and fixing them, not interrogating motives. That background became central to the story’s evolution. Instead of focusing on piecing together clues, he begins to wrestle with his own history of looking away from uncomfortable truths.

That shift — from question to consequence — gave the story its emotional backbone.

Where Research Became World-Building

Some authors dread research. I find it exhilarating — not because it gives me answers, but because it gives me context.

For this novel, I looked into:

• How insurance companies handle unexpected damage claims
• The structure and culture of local police forces in small towns
• Engineering assessments of land and construction stability
• The way information is communicated and miscommunicated in tight-knit communities

These may seem like dry topics on the surface, but they became the bedrock of how characters respond when systems fail them, when institutions protect their own, and when individuals must decide whether to challenge or comply.

Importantly, the research didn’t make the narrative heavier — it made it truer. It gave characters real motivations that didn’t feel pasted on or contrived.

Characters That Redefined the Plot

There were moments during revision when I realised the narrative wasn’t being driven by plot mechanics — it was being driven by character choices.

One character I originally wrote as comic relief kept insisting on speaking uncomfortable truths. Another, far subtler and more internal, became the moral compass of the story — not through speeches or declarations, but through silence and avoidance.

The protagonist’s journey turned out to be as much about confronting his own spiritual inertia as it was about confronting the external mystery he unearthed.

That was the real revelation: mysteries aren’t solved by gathering clues; they are solved by understanding why the truth was buried in the first place.

Revising Toward the Final Twist

The first draft’s ending wrapped up loose ends like a traditional mystery, but it left the emotional arc unresolved. Something still felt unfinished.

In later drafts, I began asking a different set of questions:

• What if the mystery isn’t the endpoint?
• What if the real conflict is what happens after the truth is uncovered?
• What emotional cost comes with choosing to expose something everyone else wants to keep hidden?

The final iteration of the story became less about discovery and more about responsibility.

It’s one thing to know something. It’s another to choose what to do with that knowledge.

Writing Advice for Fellow Goodreads Members

If there’s one thing I’d share with other writers — especially those intrigued by suspense or psychological tension — it’s this:

• Let your story evolve. Don’t be afraid when it stops being what you first imagined. Sometimes that’s where the real story begins.
• Let character needs shape the plot. Motivation and moral conflict give weight to twists and turns far more than clever clues alone.
• Use research not as filler, but as foundation. Facts should feel invisible in the text, but invisible foundations make everything else stand taller.

Most importantly, I learned that the tension that matters most isn’t just “Who did it?” — it’s “What are we willing to do once we know?”

Thank You for Joining Me on This Journey

Writing this story reminded me that the best mysteries are not just puzzles to solve, but worlds to explore.

I hope you’ll join me when this novel makes its way into your hands. Until then, keep reading — and keep asking the questions only great books can inspire.