Facing my LLM Dragons (on Crime Fiction in 2026)

Ovidia--every other Tuesday

In this strange space between Christmas and the start of the new year, I've been finding it hard to focus productively.

I know I need to let go of things to free up space in my life for new things to come in, and I like that very much in theory--only I haven't exactly been letting go of things. In fact I bought more notebooks and pens yesterday. In the coming year I mean to try to record my reading and writing with good, old fashioned pen and paper.

Because though I use computers to send out my writing, pens (and pencils) are how I think with my fingers... and because I find the new AI Large Language Models intimidating. I've been reading about them, how they're taking over the writing of everything from college papers to novels and frying our brains!

But now I admit they scare me, I have to find out more about them--know your enemies, right?
Looking into LLM(Large Language Model) generated AIs feels a little like going into the dragon's lair and I'm not sure whether I'll get out again--or what I'll come out as.

But I figured that where I am now, between books and between years, is the best time to chase dragons.

So I downloaded 4 apps: free versions of ChatGPT, Claude, Dibbly Create and Gemini.

And asked each of them to suggest what Crime Fiction Writers can best do in 2026 in a world of shrinking attention spans...

ChatGPT:
In 2026, when everyone is fighting shrinking attention spans, crime fiction writers can actually lean into what our genre does best: create curiosity that refuses to let go.
Let’s write with momentum — shorter chapters, clearer stakes, hooks that reward readers quickly — while still delivering emotional depth and moral complexity over time. Let’s also meet readers where they are: share snippets, bonus scenes, and behind-the-scenes peeks on social platforms to invite them back into books rather than compete with those platforms.
And perhaps most important, let’s read each other generously, recommend widely, and celebrate stories that make people feel smart, seen, and satisfied — because when reading feels rewarding, people make time for it, no matter how busy the world gets.

Claude:
As crime fiction writers navigating 2026's fractured attention landscape, our greatest opportunity lies not in surrendering to brevity but in weaponizing what makes our genre irresistible: narrative hooks that create genuine compulsion.
While the world scrolls faster, mystery readers still devour 400-page novels in single sittings when the stakes feel immediate and personal.
Consider structuring your work with shorter, propulsive chapters that offer natural pause points without sacrificing depth—each one ending with a question that demands answering.
Embrace serialization where it makes sense, whether through newsletter fiction, social media storytelling that builds community, or podcast adaptations that meet readers in their commute-time reality.
Most importantly, remember that "short attention span" often means "low tolerance for padding"—readers will focus intently on prose that earns every sentence. They're not asking for less substance; they're asking us to cut the throat-clearing and get to the body in the library.
Make your opening pages do what crime fiction does best: create an itch that can only be scratched by turning the next page, and the next, until the case is closed.

Dibbly Create:
In 2026, crime fiction writers face the challenge of capturing readers' fleeting attention in an age of shrinking focus spans. To boost both writing and reading, authors can embrace concise, impactful storytelling, weaving gripping narratives with sharp, immersive scenes that hook readers swiftly.
Experimenting with multimedia formats such as audio snippets, interactive mysteries, or serialized micro-stories shared on social platforms can engage diverse audiences.
Prioritizing compelling, relatable characters and cliffhanger endings will keep readers eager for more, while fostering a vibrant community through online discussions and exclusive previews will deepen the connection between writers and their audience, revitalizing the crime fiction genre for the modern era.

Gemini:
To boost writing and reading in 2026, we must stop viewing the "short attention span" as a hurdle and start treating it as a new narrative architecture.
Instead of thinning out our plots, we should lean into "narrative Darwinism" by sharpening our hooks and adopting a serialized mindset that mirrors the dopamine-driven pace of the digital age.
By experimenting with micro-tensions—small, relentless questions seeded in every scene—and exploring shorter, punchy formats like novellas or episodic releases, we can meet readers where they are without sacrificing the depth they crave.
Ultimately, the writers who thrive in 2026 won’t be those who simplify their mysteries, but those who provide a high-value, "picky-attention" experience that respects the reader's time with lean, muscular prose and an undeniable reason to turn the next page.
Here is a "Quick Tips" sidebar offering actionable strategies for the crime writers of 2026. Strategies for the "Picky-Attention" Era
- The 10-Percent Rule: Aim to cut 10% of "connective tissue" (travel scenes, waking up, over-description) to ensure every page contains either a clue, a character pivot, or a pulse-quickening moment.
- The "Episodic" Hook: Structure novels with clear "mini-arcs" every 50 pages. This provides natural resting points for busy readers while creating a "just one more chapter" compulsion.
- Multimedia Integration: Consider offering "Atmospheric Companions," such as a curated Spotify playlist or a digital map of the crime scene, to deepen the immersive experience beyond the printed word.
- Micro-Mystery Marketing: Use social media to share 30-second "cold opens" or character interrogations to hook potential readers with immediate, bite-sized intrigue.
- Lean, Muscular Prose: Prioritize active verbs and sharp dialogue. In 2026, clarity is the greatest respect you can show a reader’s time.

Me:
I was surprised by how different their responses were. I kind of expected them all to be pretty much the same, drawing on the same material.
But then they weren't saying all that much either--kind of like the 'How to Write' books I used to devour (in the pre-Internet years) which is likely where this material came from.

So I asked each of them if they could come up with a 'manifesto' for crime writing in 2026, suggesting the rhythm of Tennyson's 'To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield' :

ChatGPT:
A Crime Fiction Manifesto for 2026 To read—widely and greedily.
Old masters and new voices, comfort rereads and risky choices.
To remember why we fell in love with this crooked, clever genre in the first place.
To write—even when the plot sulks,
even when the middle collapses,
even when the detective refuses to cooperate.
To put words on the page before we decide whether they’re any good.
To revise—again, and then again.
To sharpen clues, deepen motives,
cut what we love if it doesn’t serve the story,
and trust that clarity is an act of kindness to the reader.
To notice—how people lie, how cities breathe,
how justice is bent, delayed, or quietly delivered.
To steal shamelessly from life and return it improved.
To persist—through rejections, silence, distractions,
and the dangerous lie that everyone else finds this easy.
To keep faith with the work even when confidence goes missing.
To find pleasure—in puzzles solved,
in sentences that finally click,
in the shared language of alibis, red herrings, and motive.
And above all:
to read, to write, to revise (and revise again),
to ask better questions,
to keep showing up—
and not to yield.

Dibbly Create:
To read with fervor,To write with passion,To unravel mysteries with each draft,To chase elusive truths in every plot twist,To embrace every red herring and dead end,To share our stories and hear others’,And never to yield—For in the shadows of doubt lies the light of discovery,And together, we solve the unsolvable.

Claude AI:
THE CRIME FICTION COMPACT: A MANIFESTO FOR 2026
To read, to write, to relentlessly revise—and not to yield.
We are the keepers of dark stories and difficult truths. We write about murder and call it love.
We read about violence and call it understanding. In 2026, when the world offers endless distractions and reasons to abandon our pages, we make these promises to ourselves and each other: We will read promiscuously. The cozy and the noir. The police procedural and the psychological thriller. The debut and the backlist.
We will read outside our comfort zones and inside our favorite tropes. We will remember that every book we finish feeds the writer we're becoming. We will write badly before we write well.
The first draft is allowed to be a crime against literature. That's why revision exists. We will silence the editor on our shoulder and let the storyteller run wild. There will be time to clean up the blood spatter later.
We will revise with ruthless affection. We will murder our darlings when the story demands it, keep what serves the truth, and know the difference. Every cut makes the heart beat faster. We will trust the crooked path. Not every writing day will sing. Not every book will land. Not every protagonist will cooperate. The detour is part of the mystery. The solution reveals itself to those who stay with the case.
We will remember why we're here. Because crime fiction asks the questions that matter: What do people do when everything's at stake? What does justice look like? How do we live with what we've done? Because somewhere, someone needs the exact story only we can tell.
We will show up. On the days inspiration strikes and the days it doesn't. For fifteen minutes or five hours. To the blank page and the messy middle and the terrifying end. Presence is the only non-negotiable.
We will not go gently into the algorithm. We will resist the voices that say we're too slow, too quiet, too niche, too late. We will write the books that won't leave us alone, not the books that trend on Tuesday. The work will find its readers. Our job is the work.
We will celebrate each other's kills. Every finished draft, every publication, every review, every reader found. There is enough room in this genre for all of us. Your success doesn't diminish mine. Your book might be the one that saves someone's life, or at least their Wednesday.
This year, we refuse to let doubt close the case early. We commit to the crime. We follow the evidence. We stay until we solve it.
To read, to write, to relentlessly revise—and not to yield.
Now go forth and leave no witness.

Gemini:
In 2026, the world might feel like a locked-room mystery with no obvious exit, but for the lovers of the macabre and the masters of the "whodunnit," it is simply the ultimate prompt.
Here is a manifesto for the year ahead—a guide for the investigators of the human heart and the architects of the perfect alibi.
The 2026 Crime Fiction Manifesto
To Read, To Write, To Kill Your Darlings, and Not to Yield.
I. The Prime Directive
We recognize that crime fiction is not just about the "crime"; it is about the restoration of order in a chaotic world. In 2026, when the plot of reality feels thin, we promise to thicken our own.
II. On the Act of Reading (The Investigation)
- Broaden the Search: We shall read outside our usual jurisdictions. If you love Gritty Noir, find a Cozy. If you love Police Procedurals, find a Psychological Thriller.
- The Alibi of Silence: We will carve out thirty minutes of "untraceable time" each day. No phones, no pings—just us and the page.
- Support the Informants: We will buy from independent bookstores and leave reviews for mid-list authors.
In the ecosystem of crime, every witness matters. III. On the Act of Writing (The Execution)
- Trust the Process, Not the First Draft: We acknowledge that a first draft is just a body at a crime scene—messy, confusing, and full of unanswered questions. The truth comes out in the interrogation (the edit).
- No Clue is Too Small: We will write even when the "motive" is missing. 200 words a day is better than a "cold case" file that sits in a drawer for a decade.
- Embrace the Red Herring: When the plot stalls, we will throw a metaphorical grenade into the room. If we are surprised, the reader will be too. IV. On the Spirit of the Craft (The Code of Silence)
- Community Over Competition: We are a syndicate, not rivals. We celebrate the success of our peers because a win for one "detective" is a win for the genre.
- Resilience is the Only Weapon: Rejections are just "inconclusive evidence." We will not let a "No" stop us from finding the "Yes."
The 2026 Vow:
"I will look for the shadows where others seek the sun. I will find the logic in the illogical. I will read for the thrill, write for the soul, kill my darlings for the art, and I will never yield to the blank page."

Me:
What's maybe most frightening is how I kind of like these responses--especially 'We will not go gently into the algorithm' and I feel the lure of long, meandering conversations with a witty bot that doesn't get bored or have its feelings hurt by what I say. Interacting feels like meaningful engagement.
But is it? It kind of follows the 'rules' of engagement--the LLMs have access to more information than I do, so I'm learning stuff. And I try to verify the material so I'm paying attention and assessing it which is engagement. It certainly feels more 'involved' than passively staring at a screen.
I kind of like the 'character' nuanced responses generated and I'm impressed by the programming. As with everything else, it's how we use it, I guess.

But I'm still looking forward to using my new pens and new notebooks! Wishing you all a Happy, Healthy and Hope Filled 2026!