A photograph from the inspirational bin – 31

This is rugged bushland not far from suburbia, though you wouldn’t know exactly where it is just by looking at the photograph

But, for the writer, this is an excellent setting.

For instance, once again we are out wandering in the bush, lost. It’s not hard to get lost, and stay lost if there are no recognizable landmarks, and given we all walk with a bias to one side or the other, and we have to avoid objects like trees, ravines, animals, and rocks, keeping a straight line is impossible.

But the question is, how did you get into the bush in the first place?

It’s not as if you would deliberately go there, just to if you can get lost.

No, my idea is that you have been kidnapped and drugged, then taken to a location either in the book of a car or just in the back seat with a hood, then dropped off and left to die

The criminals in this story are more efficient in getting rid of pesky witnesses.

Or maybe it’s something less sinister, like going out and counting the koalas in the bush, well, what’s left of the bush as the suburban spray takes more and more of the koala’s habitat.

And it could also be like the planet of the apes, the koalas start fighting back.

Stranger things have been known to happen.

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 50

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on the back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe


Just because you have a security card with your name on it doesn’t mean you are cleared.  Yesterday, maybe, but today?  Anything can happen in 24 hours, much like the political landscape.

When I walked in the front entrance and up to the scanning gate, I was just another employee coming into work.  I ran my card through the scanning device, and the light turned red.

It failed.

In the time it took for me to scan it a second time, a security guard had arrived from the front desk, and a soldier, armed and ready was standing behind me.

I didn’t doubt for one minute he would shoot me if I tried to run.

“What seems to be the problem?”  The security guard was polite but firm.

“My card that scanned the last time and worked, doesn’t seem to work now.”

I could read his expression, ‘you just got fired, and are trying to get back in.”

“Let me try.”

I gave him the card, he looked at it, no doubt to see if there was any damage, then tried it.”

“Have you any other means of identification?”

Now, here’s the thing.  This was the office full of spies and support staff all of whom could be using assumed names, different guises, or just plain secretive with their private information.  Luckily I had a driver’s license with the name on the card, but not much else.

I thought about telling him about the place he was guarding, but I doubted he would listen.

He looked at both, then handed back the license. 

“Come with me over to the counter and we’ll see if we can sort this out.”

It was not a request, nor was I unaccompanied.  I now had a soldier permanently attached to me.

When we all arrived at the desk, he joined another guard behind.

“Who is your immediate superior?”

It was a toss-up between Dobbin and Monica.  Since Dobbin spent a lot of time in his car or appeared to, I said it was Monica.

I watched him search slowly through the phone list until he found her number, then called her.

He had his back to me when they spoke, but it wasn’t for long; after a minute, perhaps two, he replaced the receiver and turned back.

“Ms. Shrive will be down in about five minutes.”  He pointed to a row of chairs against the wall, remnants from the last world war.  “If you would like to wait over there, sir.”

He didn’t hand back my card.

The wait was more like a half-hour, but I had become engrossed in an old copy of Country Life, and an article that made me consider retiring to the country in an old thatch cottage beside a babbling brook somewhere in the Cotswolds.

Until I read the price. 

The arrival of Monica came at a fortuitous moment.  Coming to the desk.

“Nnn, I was hoping you would drop by sooner rather than later.”

“My card doesn’t work.”

“Oh, that’s because we revoked it.”  She held out another in her hand.  “We’ve replaced it with one with better access, or as we say jokingly, you’ve moved up in the pay grade scale.”

I took the card and went to put it in my pocket.

“You need to register your presence, so I’m afraid you’ll have to go out and come back in again.”

I did as she asked, this time greeted by the friendly green light.  The soldier seemed disappointed that I was not free of his attention.  The security guard on the desk had alt=ready forgotten I existed.

“Come.”

I followed Monica to the antiquated elevator, we stepped in, closed the door and she pressed a button for the third and fourth floors.  It seemed creakier than usual this time.

“I’m assuming you have come in to use the computer resources?”

“Yes.”

“Good thing then we upgraded your access level.”

“And is there someone who manages access to CCTV footage?”

“Yes.  Same floor, four.  Her name is Amelia Enders.  Tell her what you need, and she’ll find it.  I assume it will have something to do with the surveillance exercise of yours.”

How could she guess, or had she been already investigating?”

“Come and see me when you’re finished.  I live on the third floor.  Literally.”

The elevator stopped on the third floor with a creak and a thump.

A smile and she headed off down the passage.

If I wasn’t mistaken, she had that cat who ate the canary look, and it worried me.

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 44

Day 44 – Logical and illogical

The Art of the Un‑Expected: How to Keep Logic in Play While Giving Your Story a Believable Twist


1. Why “Logical” Storytelling Still Rules the Roost

When readers sit down with a book, a screenplay, or even a short blog post, the first thing they look for is coherence.

  • Cause‑and‑effect: “If X happens, then Y should follow.”
  • Internal consistency: The world you’ve built follows its own rules, no matter how fantastical they are.
  • Predictable stakes: The protagonist’s goals, obstacles, and motivations are clear.

A story that respects these principles feels safe. It’s the literary equivalent of a well‑built bridge—you trust it won’t collapse under you.

But trust can become complacency. After a while, readers start anticipating the next move: “Oh, here comes the climax!” or “We’re about to get the happy ending.” That’s where the magic of a twist comes in.


2. The Twist: A Controlled Violation of Expectation

A twist isn’t just a surprise; it’s a deliberate breach of the logical path you’ve laid out—but it must still feel like it could have happened. Think of it as a creative detour on a well‑paved road:

ElementStandard LogicTwist Version
SetupHero discovers a map to treasure.Hero discovers a map, but the “X” marks the spot of a forgotten laboratory.
ExpectationTreasure = gold, jewels, riches.Treasure = a dormant AI that can rewrite reality.
OutcomeWealth changes the hero’s life.The AI offers a choice: wealth or a chance to rewrite a past mistake.

The key is that the twist answers a question the story has already asked—it doesn’t introduce an unrelated, out‑of‑the‑blue element. It’s still a logical extension; it’s just a branch you didn’t see coming.


3. How to Build a Twist That Feels Believable

A. Plant Foreshadowing Nuggets Early

Even the most shocking twist works when the reader can, in hindsight, point to tiny clues that hinted at it.

  • Example: In a thriller, a character’s recurring habit of checking the kitchen clock could later reveal that the “mysterious ticking” was actually a timer for a bomb.

Tip: Use one‑sentence hints, a visual motif, or a subtle dialogue line. Don’t over‑explain; just give the attentive reader something to latch onto later.

B. Keep Motivation Consistent

If a character suddenly does something wildly out of character, the twist collapses.

  • Do: Show a lingering doubt or secret desire earlier in the narrative.
  • Don’t: Have the hero snap into villainy without any prior strain.

C. Leverage World‑Building Rules

Your story’s internal logic should already contain the possibility for the twist.

  • Science‑fiction: If you’ve established that quantum entanglement can be harnessed for communication, a twist where a message arrives from an alternate timeline feels plausible.
  • Fantasy: If magic has a cost (e.g., it ages the caster), a twist where a character trades years of life for a single wish fits the rulebook.

D. Use Contrast, Not Contradiction

A twist should amplify tension, not erase it. Contrast the expected outcome with the unexpected one, but never outright contradict the premises you’ve set.

  • Good: “She thought the interview was over, but the hiring manager handed her a secret dossier—her next mission.”
  • Bad: “She was interviewing for a coffee shop job, and suddenly she’s a secret agent—no previous hints about espionage.”

E. Test the Twist with Beta Readers

Ask a few trusted readers to outline the story after the first draft. If they can’t predict the twist but still feel it makes sense once revealed, you’ve hit the sweet spot.


4. Common Pitfalls & How to Avoid Them

PitfallWhy It FailsFix
“Twist for the sake of twist”Feels gimmicky; undermines credibility.Make every twist serve the character arc or theme.
Insufficient ForeshadowingThe twist feels like deus ex machina.Insert at least two subtle clues early on.
Breaking Core World RulesReaders lose trust; suspension of disbelief shatters.Add the twist within the established rule set, even if it stretches the limits.
Over‑Explaining the RevealDiminishes the “aha!” moment.Show the consequences; let readers piece together the logic themselves.
Twist That Undermines Protagonist AgencyThe hero becomes a puppet of the plot.Ensure the twist still leaves the protagonist making a meaningful choice.

5. A Mini‑Exercise to Warm Up Your Twist Muscles

  1. Write a 200‑word scene that ends with a clear, logical expectation (e.g., “The detective opens the safe, expecting cash.”).
  2. Identify three objects, lines of dialogue, or environmental details you can repurpose as foreshadowing.
  3. Rewrite the ending so the expectation is subverted, but each foreshadowing element now makes sense in hindsight.
  4. Read it aloud—does the twist feel like a natural, albeit surprising, outcome?

Do this exercise a few times with different genres. You’ll start to see how “logic‑bending” is really just logic‑re‑routing.


6. Closing Thoughts: The Balance Between Predictability and Awe

Stories are maps. The logic you lay down is the road that guides readers. The twist is the scenic overlook—they pause, gasp, and see the world from a fresh angle before continuing their journey.

When you strip away a little of the expected logic—but do it with intention, foreshadowing, and respect for your world—you give readers a thrilling, believable surprise that feels earned, not forced.

So the next time you sit down to write, ask yourself:

“What does my reader think is coming next? How can I honour that expectation while still taking them somewhere they didn’t see coming?”

If the answer is a twist that feels like a natural branch on the path you’ve built, you’ve just turned a good story into a great one.

Happy writing—and may your twists always be both unexpected and inevitable.


If you found this post helpful, subscribe for more storytelling tactics, and feel free to share your own twist‑building experiences in the comments below!

What I learned about writing – Originality

Can you write a completely original fiction story? Some would say they could, but every time you pick up a book, can you say that you have not seen parts of it before, in one form or another?

It is said that there are only seven basic plots that are used over and over again.

Others will say there are three, six, or thirty-six. No one can seem to agree on a number, but they all believe there is just a small number of master plots from which every story is written.

  1. Overcoming the Monster
  2. Rags to Riches
  3. The Quest
  4. Voyage and Return
  5. Rebirth
  6. Comedy
  7. Tragedy

This is from The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories by Christopher Booker.

There are endless variations, some end happily, others sadly, and what is left in tragedy.

I like to have happy endings and am not a fan of sad endings; there’s enough of those on TV, and I think the last thing we want before we go to bed is to see a show that reflects daily life. I like to see the good guys win every now and then just to restore my faith in human nature.

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 44

Day 44 – Logical and illogical

The Art of the Un‑Expected: How to Keep Logic in Play While Giving Your Story a Believable Twist


1. Why “Logical” Storytelling Still Rules the Roost

When readers sit down with a book, a screenplay, or even a short blog post, the first thing they look for is coherence.

  • Cause‑and‑effect: “If X happens, then Y should follow.”
  • Internal consistency: The world you’ve built follows its own rules, no matter how fantastical they are.
  • Predictable stakes: The protagonist’s goals, obstacles, and motivations are clear.

A story that respects these principles feels safe. It’s the literary equivalent of a well‑built bridge—you trust it won’t collapse under you.

But trust can become complacency. After a while, readers start anticipating the next move: “Oh, here comes the climax!” or “We’re about to get the happy ending.” That’s where the magic of a twist comes in.


2. The Twist: A Controlled Violation of Expectation

A twist isn’t just a surprise; it’s a deliberate breach of the logical path you’ve laid out—but it must still feel like it could have happened. Think of it as a creative detour on a well‑paved road:

ElementStandard LogicTwist Version
SetupHero discovers a map to treasure.Hero discovers a map, but the “X” marks the spot of a forgotten laboratory.
ExpectationTreasure = gold, jewels, riches.Treasure = a dormant AI that can rewrite reality.
OutcomeWealth changes the hero’s life.The AI offers a choice: wealth or a chance to rewrite a past mistake.

The key is that the twist answers a question the story has already asked—it doesn’t introduce an unrelated, out‑of‑the‑blue element. It’s still a logical extension; it’s just a branch you didn’t see coming.


3. How to Build a Twist That Feels Believable

A. Plant Foreshadowing Nuggets Early

Even the most shocking twist works when the reader can, in hindsight, point to tiny clues that hinted at it.

  • Example: In a thriller, a character’s recurring habit of checking the kitchen clock could later reveal that the “mysterious ticking” was actually a timer for a bomb.

Tip: Use one‑sentence hints, a visual motif, or a subtle dialogue line. Don’t over‑explain; just give the attentive reader something to latch onto later.

B. Keep Motivation Consistent

If a character suddenly does something wildly out of character, the twist collapses.

  • Do: Show a lingering doubt or secret desire earlier in the narrative.
  • Don’t: Have the hero snap into villainy without any prior strain.

C. Leverage World‑Building Rules

Your story’s internal logic should already contain the possibility for the twist.

  • Science‑fiction: If you’ve established that quantum entanglement can be harnessed for communication, a twist where a message arrives from an alternate timeline feels plausible.
  • Fantasy: If magic has a cost (e.g., it ages the caster), a twist where a character trades years of life for a single wish fits the rulebook.

D. Use Contrast, Not Contradiction

A twist should amplify tension, not erase it. Contrast the expected outcome with the unexpected one, but never outright contradict the premises you’ve set.

  • Good: “She thought the interview was over, but the hiring manager handed her a secret dossier—her next mission.”
  • Bad: “She was interviewing for a coffee shop job, and suddenly she’s a secret agent—no previous hints about espionage.”

E. Test the Twist with Beta Readers

Ask a few trusted readers to outline the story after the first draft. If they can’t predict the twist but still feel it makes sense once revealed, you’ve hit the sweet spot.


4. Common Pitfalls & How to Avoid Them

PitfallWhy It FailsFix
“Twist for the sake of twist”Feels gimmicky; undermines credibility.Make every twist serve the character arc or theme.
Insufficient ForeshadowingThe twist feels like deus ex machina.Insert at least two subtle clues early on.
Breaking Core World RulesReaders lose trust; suspension of disbelief shatters.Add the twist within the established rule set, even if it stretches the limits.
Over‑Explaining the RevealDiminishes the “aha!” moment.Show the consequences; let readers piece together the logic themselves.
Twist That Undermines Protagonist AgencyThe hero becomes a puppet of the plot.Ensure the twist still leaves the protagonist making a meaningful choice.

5. A Mini‑Exercise to Warm Up Your Twist Muscles

  1. Write a 200‑word scene that ends with a clear, logical expectation (e.g., “The detective opens the safe, expecting cash.”).
  2. Identify three objects, lines of dialogue, or environmental details you can repurpose as foreshadowing.
  3. Rewrite the ending so the expectation is subverted, but each foreshadowing element now makes sense in hindsight.
  4. Read it aloud—does the twist feel like a natural, albeit surprising, outcome?

Do this exercise a few times with different genres. You’ll start to see how “logic‑bending” is really just logic‑re‑routing.


6. Closing Thoughts: The Balance Between Predictability and Awe

Stories are maps. The logic you lay down is the road that guides readers. The twist is the scenic overlook—they pause, gasp, and see the world from a fresh angle before continuing their journey.

When you strip away a little of the expected logic—but do it with intention, foreshadowing, and respect for your world—you give readers a thrilling, believable surprise that feels earned, not forced.

So the next time you sit down to write, ask yourself:

“What does my reader think is coming next? How can I honour that expectation while still taking them somewhere they didn’t see coming?”

If the answer is a twist that feels like a natural branch on the path you’ve built, you’ve just turned a good story into a great one.

Happy writing—and may your twists always be both unexpected and inevitable.


If you found this post helpful, subscribe for more storytelling tactics, and feel free to share your own twist‑building experiences in the comments below!

In a word: Stick

Everyone knows what a stick is, it’s a lump of wood that you throw out in front of you, and if your dog is inclined to, he will run out and fetch it back.

Of course, there’s the obstinate ones who just lie down on the ground and look at you like you’re foolishly throwing away something useful.

For instance, that stick, and a few others that would be very useful to light a campfire, or just a woodfire in the house, during winter.

Or it can be a stick of wood needed for something else, like a building project, of those highly secret affairs that go on in the locked shed at the bottom of the garden.

I’m sure the dog who refuses to fetch sticks knows exactly what is going on there but is disinclined to say.

But..

If you are looking at the gooey sense of the word, there is an old saying, if you throw enough mud, some of it sticks’.

Yes, you can stick stuff to stuff, such as words cut out of various newspapers to make up a ransom or warning note.

Too many mystery movies, I know.

Paint will stick to timber or any surface, really.

Mud sticks to the bottom of shoes or boots and becomes analysable evidence.

I can stick to you like glue, which means that where you go, I go. This is quite handy if you are trying to stop an opposition player from scoring in a game.

I can use a walking stick, beat someone with a stick, use a stick to fly a plane, or use a gear stick to move a car.

I’m sure, if you think about it, you can come up with a dozen more ways to use it.

“The Devil You Don’t”, she was the girl you would not take home to your mother!

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John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.

Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.

If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.

At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.

That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.

Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.

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The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 11

Perhaps we are not alone…

I guess there was more to be worried about than a few scorch marks on the side of a ship.

It did beg the question, in those milliseconds I had to pull myself together, that the agreement everyone was a party to on Earth was that we were not going to have ships with weapons, and the ability to attack one another in space, was just that, between nations on Earth.

What if there was life other than on Earth?

The person I was looking at didn’t look like an alien, or at least not one of our endless stereotypes, but what if there was life other than us, and this was a representation of it?

I guess it was time to take the first step.

“I’m assuming this is some sort of dispute over cargo, or perhaps interstellar freight lines, and if it is, there are proper channels to resolve your issues, not at the end of a laser.” I looked at the weapon in the person’s hand and it looked nothing like anything I’d seen before.

Well, not outside our weapons lab, our there on the edge of space where the occupants were not likely to get snooping visitors.

The helmet with the reflective glass panel gave no indication who was behind it.

“It is not an issue over freight.”

OK. A humanised voice, spoke slowly as if by one feeling their way around the language. Yes, English, but why didn’t they pick French or Spanish, or even Japanese? English was not exactly universal, and the translators in our ears reduced everything to our native tongue. Myrtle’s language was Italian, so she would not be hearing this in English.

“Space lane violation?”

Yes, there were lanes in space so ships didn’t crash into each other. There was some degree of civilization out her in no man’s land.

Time for a different tack.

“Just exactly where are you from?”

In that same moment I heard the Captain’s voice coming over my private communicator, in a very uncaptain like manner. “What in God’s name is that?”

© Charles Heath 2021-2022