Red Herrings and Bluebirds: Clues that Deceive
Okay, so this might seem a little more suited for a blog about writing mysteries than writing speculative fiction, but let’s face it, lots of stories have mystery elements. So, let’s explore.
Red Herrings
Everyone has heard of Red Herrings. They are clues or plot points that look important, only to later turn out to be a distraction. Maybe someone was deliberately trying to fool the characters or maybe it’s only for the sake of the readers.
The common claim is that the term red herring came from fox hunting, where hounds would be tested by having a fish dragged across the trail to see if they would be tricked to follow the fish instead of the fox. A well-trained hound wouldn’t be distracted. Apparently there are no known cases of that actually happening with fox hunting, and even a few suggestions of the opposite, but we’re writing, not fox hunting.
For literary purposes, a red herring is meant to distract and have everyone looking in the wrong direction. It’s pyrite that lures people away from the uncut diamond.
Be careful with your red herrings. Yes, if you are writing a mystery, people expect a few, but make sure they make sense in the story. Even those questions can and probably should be answered. If the guy who lives all the way at the end of the hall is always conveniently missing when the chaos goes down and the phantom shows up, but turns out not to be involved in causing it, please explain where he is. Maybe the reason he’s been really sketchy about his whereabouts is because he didn’t want anyone to know that he’s currently seeking medical treatment for his narcolepsy. Why couldn’t anyone find him? He had fallen asleep in the closet.
Or maybe something is a red herring because the source lied about it. Sure, the lady in white told you all about the argument that two people had before one was viciously murdered, but she’s lying through her teeth. There was no argument. Maybe she’s lying because she did it. Or maybe that’s a red herring too, and she just has a grudge against the other person. Or she thinks they did it but there’s no proof, so she’s trying to frame the guilty party.
Planting red herrings in a way that is convincing without being too subtle or too obvious is tricky, and probably requires a lot of practice. Still, if you are writing a book that is a mystery or has a mystery subplot, you shouldn’t neglect them.
Bluebirds
Okay, confession time. There’s no such thing. I literally made up the term, tonight. But I think it fits anyway.
Bluebirds, at least where I live, are oddities in that they look like pretty drab looking birds from most angles and most lights. Right up until the sun hits them just right and they are suddenly startlingly and almost unnaturally blue. If you’ve never seen it in person, I’m sorry but you just won’t understand how amazing the effect is. Since most pictures are taken to showcase them at their bluest, it’s hard to realize how much bluebirds don’t look like bluebirds most of the time.
By that reckoning, a bluebird should be a clue, a person, or a thing, that is just there and doesn’t seem important, until suddenly it’s vital. It’s a type of Chekhov’s Gun (“If there is a gun on the mantle in the first act, it must be fired by the third act.” Inspired by playwright Anton Chekhov. Language warning for site), but there’s a wide range of Chekhov’s Guns, and I think there are room for bluebirds which fit perfectly as thematic opposites of red herrings.
A bluebird is when your character suddenly realizes that the tutor who has been teaching them Elvish the whole time is actually the lost Elven General, who would really rather stay lost. Forgive the spoilers, but it’s when the invisibility cloak that Harry has been using for various things from book one, turns out to be a magical artefact that works to grant practically godlike powers in book seven.
The trick to a good bluebird is that the characters, and preferably the readers, will overlook it. It will seem something ordinary and commonplace. Until it isn’t. It’s kind of like finding out that the pen you play with at your desk signed the Treaty of Versailles. That’s a bluebird.
Clearly, both of these tools can be done well or done badly. They can also be overdone. Some readers will figure them out, and that’s fine. Others won’t, and that’s also fine. I don’t think there is an ideal goal for how many should and shouldn’t figure out a plot trick on the first read through, and it’s not like we would find out anyway, but it’s still something to ask your second readers about.
Good luck. And please help me spread ‘Bluebird’ as a literary term.
How have you used red herrings and bluebirds in your stories?