You can’t write thrillers without getting close to the stuff that sets people off. It’s an occupational hazard. Thriller fiction doesn’t work unless the reader understands clearly what’s at stake and sometimes that can get ugly.
I write mysteries, thrillers, and suspense for that immersive, skin-prickly ride. Entertainment, yes. But I’m also going for emotional stimulation, something authentic.
I want readers to trust me while I’m messing with their nerves. That’s the whole bargain and I do my best to uphold it.
Know what you mean by trigger before you try to avoid it
People use “trigger” to mean a lot of different things. Sometimes it’s clinical. Sometimes it’s “ugh, I hate spiders.” For thriller fiction, you’ll run into both. And they behave differently on the page.
Content warnings and craft warnings are not the same thing
Here’s what I mean. A content warning is about what’s in the book. Sexual assault on-page. Child harm. Graphic self-harm. That sort of thing.
A craft warning is about how you present it. The camera angle. The sound design of the prose. The lingering. The surprise drop-in.
I’ve seen books with “mild violence” that still wreck certain readers because the author wrote the violence like a trophy shot. Close. Slow. Admiring. That’s not about the subject. It’s about the handling.
Some readers seek intensity. Others, not so much.
We thriller fans are a funny bunch. We’ll chase dread for fun. We’ll read at 2 a.m. and then check the locks. But we still have personal “nope” zones.
And those zones aren’t always obvious. A reader might be fine with a serial killer plot but can’t handle a gaslighting spouse. Or they’ll read dismemberment scenes like popcorn, but a realistic panic attack on the page hits too close. I can’t predict everyone and I know I won’t please every reader. But I can try to be thoughtful.
If you want a broader refresher on what makes this genre tick and why readers love it, I talk about that in my main guide to mystery, thriller, and suspense fiction. It helps frame what “intensity” is supposed to do when it’s working.
Picking my landmines
Growing up, I always thought I would write juvenile or YA mysteries, but once I started putting the stories on paper I realized I was writing for adults. And mystery, thriller, and suspense fiction written for adults is going to include some landmines. I try to approach them with sensitivity while still giving them their proper weight.
I have a personal code that directs my writing
I cringe when a book, movie, or TV show brims with F-bombs or lingers on brutally graphic details. I don’t want or need that in my head.
So how do I write realistic dialogue between evil-doers or tough guys in a tense situation without embracing profane language? I do my best. I may include a few mild swear words but mostly I rely on more creative ways to express the urgency and intensity pressing down.
And when it comes to portraying something horrific happening on the page, I try to give the reader a sufficient understanding without focusing in on the awful details.
Example: Kidnapping might be allowed. But I won’t zoom into certain details. No prolonged restraint descriptions. No “inventory of suffering.” I’ll imply. I’ll cut away. I’ll move the camera to the investigator outside the door listening to the wrong kind of silence.
Tension stays. The reader doesn’t get trapped in the scene.
Threat can be real without being explicit
Most of the time, you don’t need the full graphic version to get the heart rate up. Dread is usually stronger when the reader’s imagination is doing some of the heavy lifting.
I’ll give a sharp detail or two. A smell. A noise. The wrong object in the wrong place.
I sketch, suggest, give readers enough to figure out the score. Then I’m out.
- I try to imply instead of depict
- I decide where to cut away
- I draw the line at what I’ll never describe in close-up
- I determine which character’s POV is safest for certain scenes
- I signal a tone change before things get dark
POV and distance can act like a dimmer switch
Thrillers love closeness. Tight POV. Fast sensory detail. That’s how you get that breathless “one more chapter” feeling. It’s also how you accidentally slam into trauma buttons.
Close third and first person can hit harder than you think
When you’re inside a character’s body, every sensation is amplified. That’s the point. But if you’re reading a character in a panic spiral, it can read like a reenactment. Too accurate. Too relentless.
So I’ll back the camera up. I’ll shift to a more observational distance for a few paragraphs. Shorter sensory cues. More external action. Less internal looping.
Still intense. Just not suffocating.
Interruption is a tool, not a cop-out
Some writers feel guilty about cutting away. Like it’s cheating or shying away from honesty. I don’t buy that.
Interruptions create tension. A door slams. A phone rings at the worst moment. The detective arrives too late and reads the room like a crime scene haiku. You can keep the pressure on without making the reader sit through every second of harm.
And yes, this ties into book choice too. A lot of readers ask me how to pick thrillers that match their tolerance for intensity. I keep that kind of selection advice in my guide to choosing mystery, thriller, and suspense books. Because mood matters. Timing matters.
Signal the vibe so readers aren’t blindsided
Honestly? Most reader anger around triggering content isn’t “this exists.” It’s “you tricked me.” They thought they were buying a puzzle-box whodunit and got hit with brutal domestic violence on page forty. That’s whiplash.
Genre promises are real promises
Cozy-adjacent mystery has different expectations than a gritty procedural. A twisty psychological thriller reads different from a survival thriller in the woods. Covers, blurbs, opening chapters, even chapter titles. They all set expectations.
When I’m drafting my own back cover copy, I ask myself, would the right reader recognize themselves here? Would the wrong reader get a heads-up and walk away?
That’s not me being precious. That’s me respecting the contract.
Foreshadow content, not just plot
Foreshadowing isn’t only for the killer’s clue trail. It’s also for the intensity trail.
Small signals help. A character mentions a history with addiction. A line about a past assault case the detective can’t shake. A brief, non-graphic reference that tells the reader, “this story goes to places.” Then when it goes there, it doesn’t feel like a trapdoor.
And no, I don’t have to spell everything out. But I try to set a tone that’s honest. That’s the goal.
FAQs for How to avoid triggers in thriller fiction
Is it possible to avoid triggers entirely?
Not really. Not in these genres. Suspense pokes at fear, vulnerability, loss of control. Those themes overlap with real life.
I know my books are going to contain some triggers for some readers. I can’t get around that. What I can do is avoid common high-impact triggers, avoid graphic depiction, and avoid surprise tonal swerves.
I can also treat trigger areas with sensitivity, using distance and cutaway, steering toward puzzle tension, cat-and-mouse strategy, and ethical stakes instead of bodily harm.
Which Joslyn Chase books contain triggers?
Honestly, every single one of them probably contains a trigger for someone. Triggers are individual and personal to each reader and what bothers one reader wouldn’t cause another to even blink. And vice versa.
I don’t think it’s possible to write a modern thriller without coming into contact with trigger territory. But, as I explained, I strive to create a satisfying reading experience for fans of suspense fiction and I approach each story I write with respect for my readers at the forefront.