The framing device in crime fiction serves as the outer shell that contains and contextualizes your central investigation, yet many authors stumble into using one without understanding its purpose or executing it properly. When a detective recounts a case from twenty years past, when a journalist discovers old case files, or when a character finds themselves explaining events to an interviewer, you’re dealing with a framing device that can either elevate your story or strangle it.
The decision to employ a framing device shouldn’t be arbitrary or decorative. Across eighteen series and more than 150 novels, I’ve found that a framing device works best when it serves a specific structural or thematic purpose that the straightforward telling of your crime story cannot achieve on its own.
When Your Crime Story Demands a Frame
A framing device becomes necessary when your central crime story requires distance, perspective, or context that cannot emerge organically from within the investigation itself. Cold cases naturally lend themselves to framing devices because the temporal gap between the original crime and its resolution creates inherent dramatic tension. In my DI Tremayne series, I’ve occasionally used the device of Tremayne reflecting on past cases when the resolution of an old crime directly impacts a current investigation.
The frame becomes essential when you need to establish why this particular story matters now, especially if the crime occurred years or decades earlier. Without the frame, readers may wonder why they should care about events from the distant past. The outer story provides the urgency and contemporary relevance that propels readers forward through the historical investigation.
Consider also the unreliable narrator situation. When your protagonist’s credibility is in question, or when multiple versions of events exist, the framing device allows you to present conflicting accounts while maintaining narrative coherence. The frame provides the stable platform from which to examine unstable testimony or questionable evidence.
Common Framing Device Failures
The most frequent mistake involves using a framing device as a crutch for weak opening chapters. Authors often begin with a character saying something like ‘I suppose it all started when Detective Morrison walked into that warehouse,’ then immediately abandon the frame for the next two hundred pages. This approach signals to readers that you couldn’t find a compelling way to begin your actual story, so you’ve manufactured artificial intrigue.
Another critical error involves frames that serve no structural purpose beyond seeming literary or sophisticated. When your frame adds nothing but extra words and a thin veneer of complexity, readers will sense the manipulation. I’ve seen manuscripts where the frame consists of a detective talking to his therapist about a case, but the therapy sessions contribute nothing to the investigation or character development. The frame becomes deadweight that slows your pacing without offering corresponding benefits.
Perhaps most damaging is the frame that promises something it cannot deliver. If your outer story suggests that the narrator has unique insight or perspective that will illuminate the central crime, but then fails to provide that insight, readers will feel cheated. The frame creates expectations that your core story must fulfill, and failure to meet those expectations undermines your entire narrative.
My Approach to Frame Construction
When I determine that a story requires a framing device, I begin by identifying what the frame must accomplish that the central story cannot achieve alone. This might be establishing contemporary stakes for a historical crime, providing context for seemingly unrelated events, or creating distance that allows for broader perspective on the investigation’s implications.
The frame must earn its place through active contribution to the story’s momentum and meaning. In practice, this means the outer story contains its own conflict and progression that intersects meaningfully with the inner investigation. The frame cannot be static; it must develop alongside the central crime story, with each level informing and complicating the other.
I also ensure that the voice and perspective of the frame differs substantially from the inner story. If both levels sound identical and offer the same viewpoint, the frame serves no purpose. The outer story might be told in first person while the inner story unfolds in third person, or the frame might represent an older, wiser perspective on events that seemed different when they originally occurred.
The practical challenge involves maintaining reader engagement with both story levels without allowing either to overwhelm the other. This requires careful pacing and regular returns to the frame that advance its own narrative arc rather than simply restating or summarizing the inner story’s developments.
Technical Execution and Transitions
The transitions between frame and inner story require particular attention because clumsy shifts can jar readers out of your narrative flow. Rather than relying on obvious transitional phrases like ‘But I’m getting ahead of myself’ or ‘Let me go back to the beginning,’ I prefer transitions that arise naturally from the frame narrator’s emotional or psychological state.
The strongest framing devices operate through what I call ‘motivated revelation’—the outer story creates specific reasons for the narrator to reveal particular aspects of the inner story at particular moments. This approach avoids the mechanical feeling that often accompanies frames where information dumps occur simply because it’s time to advance the plot.
Consider how your frame affects pacing and tension. Since framing devices inherently suggest that someone survived to tell the tale, you must create suspense through means other than simple survival questions. The tension might arise from understanding how events unfolded, what they meant, or what consequences they produced, rather than whether characters lived or died.
The frame also influences your story’s scope and focus. When writing within a framing device, every scene in the inner story must justify its inclusion not only to the central investigation but also to the frame narrator’s purpose in telling the story. This constraint can actually strengthen your narrative by forcing you to eliminate tangential elements that don’t serve your dual-level structure.
Balancing Multiple Narrative Levels
Successfully managing a framed crime story requires constant attention to both story levels’ needs and development. The outer story cannot simply pause while you focus on the investigation, nor can the crime story become so absorbing that readers forget about the frame entirely. Each level must maintain its own internal logic and progression while contributing to the overall narrative arc.
This balance becomes particularly crucial in crime fiction because readers engage with police procedural novels and investigations expecting certain structural satisfactions. They want to follow clues, understand motives, and experience the resolution’s logical inevitability. The framing device cannot interfere with these expectations while still serving its own purpose.
I’ve found that the most effective approach involves treating each story level as equally important to your overall narrative success. Neither the frame nor the inner story should feel subsidiary to the other. Instead, they should operate as complementary elements that create a richer, more complex reading experience than either could achieve independently.
The resolution phase requires particular care because you must provide satisfying conclusions to both story levels. Readers need to understand not only how the crime was solved but also why the frame narrator chose to tell this story and what the telling accomplished. When executed properly, the dual resolution provides a more substantial and memorable conclusion than a single-level narrative could offer.
Conclusion
The framing device in crime fiction succeeds only when it serves clear structural and thematic purposes that enhance rather than complicate your central investigation. When you understand why your story needs a frame and execute it with attention to both narrative levels, you create opportunities for deeper reader engagement and more sophisticated storytelling that distinguishes your work in a crowded market.
About Phillip Strang
Phillip Strang is an Australian crime and thriller novelist. Across eighteen series and more than 150 novels, his work spans London police procedurals (DCI Isaac Cook), UK investigations (DI Tremayne), Australian outback crime (Maya Thorne), FBI thrillers (Alex Harlan), Scottish Highland mysteries (DI Sarah Lynch), and espionage (Steve Case). Learn more about Phillip or browse his complete catalogue on Amazon.
A MAYA THORNE MYSTERY
Get Dust and Bones Free
Justice runs deeper than drought.
Red dust. Shallow graves. A detective who hunts killers where the law runs thin and the nearest help is two hundred miles away.
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