When I was a student (a very long time ago) I remember learning about the Pathetic Fallacy in literature, where natural events reflect human experience: Lear, a former king, naked in the tempest; storms at times of emotional turmoil in Thomas Hardy, and so on. I was thinking about the pathetic fallacy while driving into work this morning in ominous weather. I don’t enjoy driving in the best of conditions and at this time of year I always start to feel a little nervous. What if the roads are icy and my car skids...?
This kind of anxiety may be pathetic in itself, but being a worrier frequently feeds into my writing and I wonder if being subject to Shakespeare’s “horrible imaginings” goes with the territory of being a crime writer. Readers often ask how I think up plots for my crime novels and the answer is simple; I start with a ‘What if...?’ question, imagining a worst case scenario. Let me give you an example. Let’s say you have a job in an office. One evening you are the last person to leave. Going to bed you remember that you left your mobile phone on your desk at work, so you go in early next morning to arrive before any of your colleagues. Entering the office you discover a dead woman sprawled on the floor. Only a few people have keys to your office, and no one admits to knowing the murder victim.
This raises a number of questions. Who is the unknown victim? Why was she killed? You were last out at the end of the day and first in next morning - does suspicion fall on you? How do the police find the killer? If you write answers to the many questions raised by the body in the office, a basic crime thriller will virtually write itself.
Of course it’s not that simple. It takes a certain type of imagination to develop a starting point like this into a plausible novel with intriguing plot twists and convincing characters, and requires a lot of thought. So life as an author can be hard work, and success has imposed increasing demands on my time until there are times when I watch my life slipping out of control, like my car on an icy road...
As for the road ahead, if anyone had told me eighteen months ago that I would have two bestsellers to my name now, I would’ve laughed. But here I am. So I’m taking my journey as an author one day at a time with no idea what the future might bring. At least my car didn’t skid this morning - although if there was any ice on the road I wouldn’t have seen it through the dense fog up ahead...