A Conversation With Allen Eskens on Building Suspense Through Structure, Character, and Time (Killer Writers)

Few challenges test a writer’s skill more than structuring dual timelines that build tension without disrupting it. In this conversation, bestselling author Allen Eskens, winner of the Silver Falchion and Barry Awards and author of 10 novels, including The Life We Bury and The Quiet Librarian, explains how careful planning and patient thought craft stories that feel inevitable.

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“Allen, how did you approach constructing The Quiet Librarian’s dual timeline between present-day Minnesota and wartime Bosnia to deepen the story?”

“It was difficult. For those who haven’t read the novel, the story alternates between the present, focusing on Hana, a 50-year-old librarian, and her past as Nura, growing up during the Bosnian war. Originally, the war story was meant to be her backstory, but research made me realize its importance, transforming the novel into half historical fiction. Once I understood the structure, I mapped each chapter with a plot point on Post-it notes to connect past and present. For instance, a scene in which Nura uses a knife in the past is followed by Hana buying a knife in the present, showing her knowledge. Similarly, her first kiss in the past leads to a dinner scene with a man in the present, hinting at a new relationship.”

“I noted that as I was going through, one story seemed to flow seamlessly into the next.”

“That was intentional but difficult, as I kept rearranging the present-day Post-it notes. It took a month of arranging, rearranging, and redoing my outline before I was satisfied. I then took a picture to prevent the wind or my grandkids from blowing them away.”

“Backstory can slow a novel, especially when it includes significant details like Hana’s wartime past. From a storytelling perspective, what guided your choices about using Post-it notes—when to reveal that history and when to focus on the present?”

“Tension is crucial, and understanding how it is created and maintained is essential. While outlining, if I didn’t have Nura relive her past, Hana might just recount or think about it, which would kill the tension. Instead, I need the reader to experience Nura's steps. I recall an interview with Dennis Lehane in which he used italics and chapter breaks for flashbacks, making scenes tenser. Generally, if a flashback recounts what happened, it lacks tension because the outcome—survival—is known. In my story, characters have different names, but the reader knows they are the same, though it remains uncertain how she survived that incident in Bosnia.”

“The action keeps the reader on the edge of their seat.”

“The past is more historical fiction—her journey from farm girl to militia fighter to legend as a fierce fighter. When I outline, I treat the present and past as separate stories with their own arcs, tension, and buildup, rather than relying on one timeline to support the other.”

“How do you determine when readers should learn Hana’s past to build the mystery while keeping the emotional story clear? Is this part of moving the Post-it notes around during the month?”

“The months before and during the move involve planning and outlining, which I spend a lot of time on. I’m now beginning to outline my next novel, but I won't write until three or four months later. I want to understand the character's background, surroundings, and relationships before writing. I think of the story as a hero’s journey with stages such as the call to action, journey, conflicts, climax, and denouement. The subplots follow a similar arc, as in The Life We Bury, with Joe’s grandfather, his first date, and Carl’s secret from Vietnam. I outline these to create main and subplot arcs that reward the reader.”

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“One of the great points you’re making is giving writers permission not to write—to take time to think about it.”

“I advocate that. I don’t know how people can sit and write. The novel I just started outlining—if I had sat down and written it—the characters would've been different because I recently changed a character's gender. I realized I could work better with that character as a man to keep things hidden and create tension.”

“And it’s harder to go back and make that change once you’re already 200 pages in.”

“Writing is tough because once it's done, it’s hard to rethink. I spend weeks or months contemplating the story—asking myself questions like, 'What if I did that?' Changed this? Added a twist? Altered the weather? Even after all that, I always question whether it's the best way to write it. When I finish my 90,000 words, I aim for the best version of my story.”

“You’ve got a great antagonist going on. The antagonist comes from Hana’s past, and the threat grows gradually over the course of the novel. When you were structuring the story, how did you plant those early hints so the eventual confrontation feels inevitable? It was almost like you saw the train heading toward the building, and it was going to hit the building. I mean, you felt that as a reader.”

“Hana, in the present, checks a website from Serbia that lists a bounty on her head, planting the idea that she did something to warrant it. Her internal monologue reveals she can’t tell the police the truth because of the bounty, so she must uncover her friend's fate without exposing her identity. The story creates initial tension, then introduces potential antagonists through a character list and slight misdirection, though some readers might not see the surprises coming.”

“You tricked me in a very fair and enjoyable way.”

“It’s more enjoyable if the antagonist isn't revealed until the moment it happens. I use misdirection, knowing mystery readers look for the obvious suspect. I give them red herrings and clues, trying to hide the true villain. I ask myself, if I read this, who would I suspect first and second? I lay clues so that when the truth is revealed, readers recall hints they missed, making the plot more engaging.”

“Hana has rebuilt herself from Nura. From a craft perspective, how did you signal that transformation through voice, behavior, or choices rather than just explaining it? You've shown it well. What's the trick?"

“Understanding who she is. By the time I started writing Hana, I knew her well, both as Nura and as Hana. Amina was killed at the start of the story, and Hana seeks to find her killer without the police discovering Hana's connection. Both are refugees from the Bosnian War, but they cope differently: Amina seeks therapy and community, while Hana prefers to live in the past on her farm, afraid of losing her memories. Her journey involves confronting her past to move forward.”

“She definitely has a form of therapy without seeing a therapist.”

“I researched it; it's physical therapy—running, kickboxing, and exercise. When her PTSD triggers, she goes to her basement to hit her heavy bag or takes a five-mile run.”

“You speak of her anger; she can be capable of violence, yet readers remain emotionally connected. As a writer, I supported her, but how do you maintain that bond with readers when her past and actions are morally complex?”

“That’s what I aimed for. Some readers might stop after a chapter because it’s intense, but I wanted them to live through that moment so they could understand her journey afterward. All her growth after that stems from what happened on that mountain. Seeing the world through her eyes that day helps readers forgive her for morally gray choices later.”

“You did well by choosing to see that scene through Hana’s eyes without explicitly showing the violence, which is more Hitchcockian, rather than portraying it directly. A lesser author might have depicted it differently.”

“I think I rate my contribution a six out of 10 because I don't reveal everything that happened that day—only what the reader understands after the scene.”

“And it’s horrific because your imagination takes off as a reader.”

“I researched this book extensively, based on real events. I read tribunal transcripts and articles about women kidnapped during the war. What happened to her father occurred in a prison guarded by Serbians, not soldiers. I didn't include all atrocities, but I wanted the reader to feel Nura's trauma to understand her subsequent actions in her family's name.”

“I remember the conflict, but it was a history lesson for me. I’m not sure if I was meant to get this, but I gained a new perspective on the UN in that area because of what was revealed in the book.”

“I considered adding details about the UN’s involvement, or lack thereof, and the US's stance.”

“That sometimes gets into alienating territory, doesn’t it?”

“It wasn’t about alienation but about Nura’s perspective. She saw the war through the eyes of her family and friends, especially her neighbors, who turned against each other—Serbs and Bosnians living side by side, sharing schools, with no clear dividing line. I wanted to emphasize this neighbor-against-neighbor aspect over geopolitical details.”

“Much of her character is shown through what she doesn’t say, reflecting repressed feelings tied to her life. When writing her, how deliberately did you use silence and restraint as storytelling tools?”

“Knowing her well, I saw her as a quiet librarian who secretly was a warrior in Bosnia, never discussed it, and preferred not to attract attention. She wants to be seen only as a quiet woman doing her thing, though she’s very different inside. The idea for this novel arose while watching The Reader, where Kate Winslet’s character’s secret changes how you see her. While driving to a library event, I wondered what secret a middle-aged woman might have. This story is about a quiet woman with an incredible secret that reveals she’s more than just a librarian.”

“Your novels often blend emotional depth and literary quality while advancing the thriller. How do you decide when to focus on her internal reflection or to speed up the plot, given that the point of view stays inside her head?”

“To create emotion, first get readers to relate to the character. Relatability isn’t the same as likability. Robert McKee, in his book Story, notes that you don’t need to like Hannibal Lecter, but you should see yourself in him, as if you were a psychotic killer. McKee shows how the writer made Hannibal relatable by placing him in a terrible mental institution, which many readers can relate to because they might have had similar bad experiences with coworkers or bosses. To do this, list the character's flaws, problems, and minor issues, such as not being able to afford good shoes. When readers relate, you can then evoke emotion by developing that connection. Once they relate, emotional scenes will resonate more deeply.”

“You discuss emotion. Hana shifts from hiding her past to forcing confrontation rather than choosing it. As a writer, how did you craft that emotional arc, scene by scene?”

“I’m outlining two stories: Hana's present journey is external, focused on finding her friend's killer, while her internal journey explores her past. She reverts to her teenage self in Bosnia, transforming from a comfortable librarian into a fierce warrior. In a past scene, Nura wears fatigues, cuts her hair, and sees herself as a soldier. In the present, Hana recognizes she needs to change, buying new clothes and getting a haircut to become her teenage fighter self.”

“Looking back at the finished book, you shuffled and calculated. Which storytelling device was hardest to execute yet crucial to the novel's success? What was your growth as a writer?”

“I think one of the biggest challenges was moving back and forth in time, which was purely a craft issue. Carrying the emotion from one time period to another was difficult because 30 years had passed since she was Nura. I wanted to connect her past self to the present, so I used small talismans, like a blue marble, to carry emotion through time. When she holds it, the marble contains all the history and emotion from her past. There are craft techniques to transfer that emotion and the understanding of who she was 30 years ago to the present.”

“And that’s what stayed with me—an object can hold an entire life.”

“And the talisman is, I think, what I mainly use for that in this book.”

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Allen Eskens is the bestselling author of 10 novels, including The Life We Bury, Nothing More Dangerous, and The Quiet Librarian. He is the recipient of the Barry Award, Minnesota Book Award, Left Coast Crime Award, and Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award. He has been a finalist for the Edgar Award, Thriller Award, Nero Award, and Anthony Award. His books have been translated into 23 languages. https://alleneskens.com/