I think good mysteries depend less on hiding information than on making us misjudge its importance.
The clue is often there. We simply don’t know what it means yet.
Do you prefer a mystery that lets you solve it early, or one that only becomes obvious in retrospect?

I’m fascinated by the things characters choose not to say.
In a mystery, silence can mean fear, shame, loyalty, guilt — or simply that someone has misunderstood what matters.
As a reader, do you notice omissions before you notice lies?

One thing I enjoy in a mystery is the moment when evidence stops being reassuring.
A witness can be mistaken. A photograph can mislead. Memory is worse.
Which do you trust least in fiction: people, documents, or your own interpretation of events?

I've always preferred supernatural fiction that leaves one door slightly open. Explain too much and the mystery collapses; explain too little and it becomes evasive.
As a reader, how much do you want to know by the end?

I’m interested in the point where a place stops feeling neutral. Not because anything dramatic happens, but because one detail no longer fits.
What unsettles you more: a place behaving strangely, or people behaving as though nothing is wrong?

Some stories begin with a body.

Some begin with a place.

A house that feels wrong.
A road that should not be there.
A photograph that refuses to stay ordinary.

Those are usually the ones I want to follow.

benjaminlsmith.com

A good mystery asks what happened.

A supernatural mystery asks something slightly worse:

What if we find out?

That possibility is usually where I start. 🎃

Writing mysteries has taught me one important thing.

If a character enters an abandoned house, hears an unexplained noise from upstairs and decides to investigate...

I am absolutely sending them upstairs.

I didn't spend three chapters getting them there for them to make sensible decisions. 😁

One of the hazards of writing supernatural mysteries is that perfectly ordinary places stop looking quite so ordinary.

An empty railway platform. A locked room. A house with one light still burning.

Most people see nothing unusual.

I start wondering what happened there.

And who hasn't left.

I write two kinds of supernatural mystery.

In The Shadow Casebooks, the investigators follow the impossible into places where it has no business being.

In The Other Places, ordinary people discover that the impossible has been there all along.

I'm not entirely sure which is more unsettling. 😁

I've always found that the most unsettling mysteries begin with something perfectly ordinary.

A house. A photograph. A familiar road.

Then someone notices one small detail that shouldn't be there.

And suddenly, nothing feels quite so ordinary anymore.

What makes a mystery linger in your mind?

Just published: "Fancy something a little strange?". Check it out and subscribe to get everything I'm making.
benjamin-l-smith.kit.com/posts/fancy-...

Thirty years ago, they thought it was over.
They were wrong.
The House of Cain.

Writing supernatural mystery is a peculiar job.
First you invent something impossible. Then you spend the next 80,000 words making sure it obeys enough rules for the reader to believe you. 😁
The ghost can cheat. The author can’t.