I read two different mysteries recently, by two different authors. One had an initial murder that drove the story, interesting characters, and a complex, convoluted plot. The other had an initial murder that drove the story, interesting characters, and a complex, convoluted plot.
One story had me reaching out for the next in the series, while the other made me recall the laundry that awaited and the dishes that needed to be done.
As I sorted, folded, washed, and dried, I tried to figure out what made one story work and the other miss the mark. I was interested in both, I felt invested with the characters in both, but with one, I didn’t want the story to end and with the other I couldn’t wait to finish and return the book the the library.
The answer, I think, is in the white space.
Perhaps I should explain. Continue reading