Category Archives: Alison Gordon

They Both Met Movie Stars, Partied and Mingled*

Networking isn’t usually the first thing that comes to mind when you think about being a writer. But it’s important. If people don’t know who you are, and don’t know the kind of things you write, they’re not likely to read your work. Many writers I know aren’t especially fond of networking, but it does matter.

People I know who are musicians and visual artists tell me it’s similar for them. The ability to network can get you more readers, more people listening to your music, and more people looking at your art. Of course, with today’s social media, it’s much easier to network than it ever was. But there’s still an important role in real life for meeting people face to face, handing out a card, and talking about your work.

Networking matters in crime fiction, too. And it can have all sorts of consequences, depending on what the author plans. For instance, in Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs, Hercule Poirot is hired to find out who killed famous painter Amyas Crale. Everyone assumed his wife, Caroline, was responsible, and she had motive. There was evidence against her, too. In fact, she was convicted of the crime, and died in prison a year later. Now, the Crales’ daughter, Carla, wants her mother’s name cleared. Poirot takes the case and interviews the five people who were on hand on the day of the murder. He also gets written accounts of the murder from each of his interviewees. That’s how he learns the background of the affair that Crale was having with one of those people, Elsa Greer. It seems that Crale was at a studio party, where he was networking. Elsa attended the same event and asked to meet him. For her, one meeting was all it took, and it wasn’t long before they were involved. That (plus the fact that Crale was doing a painting of her) is the reason she was at the Crale home on the day he died. It’s also the reason, so said the prosecution, that Caroline Crale was motivated to kill her husband.

Networking causes an awful lot of trouble in Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley Under Ground. In that novel, Tom Ripley and three of his friends, Jeff Constant, Ed Banbury, and Bernard Tufts, have convinced the Buckmaster Gallery in London to carry the work of a relatively unknown painter named Philip Derwatt. The artist died a few years earlier, but Tufts has created some new ‘Derwatt paintings,’ and the business is going well. Then, things start to fall apart. An American Derwatt enthusiast named Thomas Murchison goes to London for a special Derwatt show at the gallery. He asks a few questions about some subtle but real differences between the genuine Derwatt paintings he knows, and those the Buckminster is showing. Ripley and his group conclude that the best way to head off disaster is for Ripley to go to London disguised as Derwatt and authenticate the work. The arrangements are made, and Ripley carries off the sham at a networking event. But Murchison isn’t convinced. Now, the team will have to think of another solution. Ripley deals with ‘the Murchison problem’ in his own way, but he soon finds he’s got even bigger problems…

Riley Adams’ (AKA Elizabeth Spann Craig) Hickory Smoked Homicide introduces readers to wealthy beauty pageant coach and judge Tristan Pembroke. She is malicious and competitive, so she hasn’t exactly won a lot of fans. But she is wealthy and influential. One night, she hosts a benefit art auction at her home. Local artist Sara Taylor has already had her share of run-ins with Tristan, but this art auction is a chance for her to get the word out about her work. So, she attends, and contributes some of her art. Tristan is murdered during the event, and Sara’s mother-in-law, Lulu Taylor, discovers the body. Sara is a likely suspect, but Lulu is convinced she is innocent. So, she starts to ask questions. And it’s not long before she discovers that plenty of people wanted Tristan Pembroke out of the way.

There’s an interesting networking event in Martin Edwards’ The Hanging Wood. In that novel, Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) Hannah Scarlett and her Cold Case Review Team look into the twenty-year-old disappearance of Callum Payne. At the same time, they’re investigating whether it might be related to the recent suicide (or was it?) of his sister, Orla. In one sub-plot of the novel, Scarlett’s boss, Assistant Chief Constable (ACC) Lauren Self, insists that she attend a ‘command performance’ Awards Dinner. It’s absolutely not Scarlett’s sort of thing. But a lot of business and community leaders will be there, and their funding is important to the constabulary. It’s important that the police network there, and leave as good an impression as they can, to secure that money. So, Scarlett attends. And it’s as well she does, too, because it helps her investigation.

Athletes have to do their share of networking, too. We see that, for instance, in Alison Gordon’s Kate Henry novels. Henry is a sportswriter for the Toronto Planet. Her specialty is baseball, so she follows the Toronto Titans to their away games, attends all of the home games, and is there for all of the team’s press events. And there are plenty of them, too. The Titans know that they need to network and get the word out if they’re going to keep their fan base, and hopefully get more fans. Members of the press know that networking allows them exclusive stories and other ‘ins’ that make them more competitive. That relationship is also explored a bit in Harlan Coben’s Myron Bolitar series. Bolitar is a sports agent, so part of his job is to network with owners and managers to get his clients on teams.

And then there’s Louise Penny’s Ruth Zardo. She is a gifted poet who live in the small Québec town of Three Pines. She’s not exactly a social person; in fact, she can be quite acerbic. But she knows that, as a poet, she has to get the word out about her work. So, in A Fatal Grace (AKA Dead Cold), she goes to a Montréal bookshop to do a reading and some networking. The event isn’t the main focus of the novel, but it does add to the plot, and it shows how difficult it can be for people to network and get others to pay attention. Trust me. It is. But networking has to be done. If you’re a writer, how do you network?

ps. The ‘photo is of a custom-printed tote that I use. It’s got the same logo as my business card, as you see. It’s one of the hopefully-not-annoying ways I have to ‘sell myself’ when the opportunity arises.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Tom Petty’s Into the Great Wide Open.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alison Gordon, Elizabeth Spann Craig, Harlan Coben, Louise Penny, Martin Edwards, Patricia Highsmith, Riley Adams

Packed Together Like a Can of Sardines*

In Agatha Christie’s Hickory Dickory Dock, Hercule Poirot works with Inspector Sharpe to find out who killed one of the residents of a hostel. As a part of the investigation, Sharpe interviews the various residents. This is what one of them has to say:
 

‘‘There’s a lot of spite about here, Inspector.’
The Inspector looked at him sharply.
‘Now what exactly do you mean by a lot of spite about?’
But Nigel immediately drew back into his shell and became noncommittal.
‘I didn’t mean anything really – just that when a lot of people are cooped up together, they get rather petty.”
 

And there’s something to that. In this case, the hostel’s residents aren’t trapped. But there is a certain lack of privacy. That, plus the fact that they’re disparate people, adds tension to the story, and creates an interesting atmosphere.

Of course, Christie isn’t the only crime writer to make use of that strategy to build suspense. Put a group of people together, even if they are free to leave, and you’re bound to have differences. Reduce their privacy, and there’s an even bigger likelihood of petty and not-so-petty differences that can have all sorts of consequences.

We see that sort of atmosphere in Ellis Peters’ Cadfael series. Those novels take place in 12th Century England, at Shrewsbury Abbey. The monks and others who live there are not prisoners; they are free to leave (although it is complicated). But they are in a situation where they have little personal privacy. They are also at close quarters with very different sorts of people. Monks come from a variety of backgrounds, and have, of course, many different sorts of personalities. Through it all moves Cadfael, who became a monk after a career as a soldier. He’s spent plenty of time in the larger world, and it’s impacted his perceptions. That means he doesn’t always agree with his more sheltered fellow monks. But they are all Benedictine monks, and all expected to work together. There’s an interesting layer of tension in some of the novels as these differences, even pettiness, come up.

Josephine Tey’s Miss Pym Disposes takes place mostly at Leys Physical Training College, a physical education college for women. The college principal, Henrietta Hodge, has invited Miss Lucy Pym to give a lecture on psychology to the students. Miss Pym has recently written a major bestseller on the topic, and she is much in demand. She agrees to give the lecture, but it’s not long before she wonders about her decision. The early-morning wakeups, the unpalatable (to her) food, and so on are all unpleasant. Still, she goes through with her agreement. Then, she gets drawn into a case of murder when one of the students is killed in what looks like a terrible accident – or was it? One of the sources of tension in the story is disparate set of personalities, all cooped up together. The students and faculty are not trapped at the school, but the lack of privacy, and the different sorts of personalities, make for some very tense moments.

Nicolas Freeling’s Double Barrel is the story of the small town of Zwinderen. It’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone. People are in the habit of leaving their curtains open, and it’s thought odd at best, and suspicious at worst, to claim any sort of real privacy. A series of vicious anonymous letters wreaks havoc in the town, causing two suicides and a mental breakdown. The local police haven’t gotten very far in finding out who is responsible for the letters, so Amsterdam detective Piet Van der Valk is seconded to Zwinderen. Part of the tension in this novel comes from the friction among some of the residents, and from the fact that people don’t really have very much private space.

Alison Gordon’s The Dead Pull Hitter features the Toronto Titans professional baseball team. None of the players is trapped on the team (at least, not in the physical sense), but they are expected to work together. Games aren’t won unless everyone works as a team. But they are different people, with different backgrounds and perceptions. And that can lead to some tension, especially when the team is on an ‘away trip’ where they have even less privacy than usual. Sports writer Kate Henry has a special interest in baseball. She travels with the team, she knows the team members well, and she has a solid sense of who gets along well, and who doesn’t. That ‘inside knowledge’ becomes useful when two of the team members are murdered. Staff Sergeant Lloyd ‘Andy’ Munro investigates the killings, and he finds Henry’s perspective to be helpful. For her part, she’s getting an exclusive set of stories. Each in a different way, the two find out what happened to the players, and who’s behind it all.

It’s not easy to be cooped up, as the saying goes, with little privacy. That’s especially true when there’s a disparate group of people. Tensions rise, and even if the people involved are not trapped, there can be all sorts of consequences, from petty spats to much, much worse. These are only a few examples. I know you’ll think of more.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Billy Joel’s A Room of Our Own.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alison Gordon, Ellis Peters, Josephine Tey, Nicolas Freeling

And All My Experiences Ride With Me*

As this is posted, it would have been Laura Ingalls Wilder’s 151st birthday. Millions of people (myself included) grew up reading her stories of life on the American prairie (remember those great Garth Williams illustrations?). As you’ll know, the ‘Little House’ books are semi-autobiographical. In fact, those who are interested can visit the ‘little town on the pairie,’ De Smet, South Dakota, and the Laura Ingalls Wilder home in Mansfield, Missouri, where she lived for the last 60 years of her life. I’ve done both trips, and they’re rich experiences.

But Wilder is by no means the only author to be inspired by personal experiences. In fact, my guess is that nearly every author draws at least a little inspiration from real-life experiences. I know I do. A story may not be the direct retelling of an event, or description of a person. But things that happen to a writer do have a way of coming out in that writer’s work.

For example, Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express is the story of the killing of an American businessman named Samuel Ratchett. He’s on his way across Europe on the world-famous Orient Express train, a journey of three days. On the second night, he is stabbed in his compartment. Hercule Poirot is on the train, on his way to London, and is prevailed upon to find Ratchett’s killer. The trip, the murder investigation, and, as it turns out, the murder itself, are all complicated by a major snowstorm. The train ends up being snowbound and is stranded for quite a while until the tracks can be cleared. It’s said that Christie herself was once snowbound on a train (although not trapped with a murderer, or for as long a time as the story depicts). That experience was a part of the inspiration for this novel.

In The Lincoln Lawyer, Michael Connelly introduces Los Angeles attorney Mickey Haller. Among other things, he is half-brother to one of Connelly’s other main protagonists, Los Angeles police detective Harry Bosch. In fact, as fans of Connelly’s work can tell you, the two men work together in a few of Connelly’s novels. Haller doesn’t have a conventional office. He does most of his legal business in the back of his Lincoln. If you know anything about Los Angeles traffic, you’ll know why it makes sense for him to have an ‘office on wheels.’ Connelly has said that he was inspired for Haller’s character in part by a chance meeting at a baseball game. He happened to be sitting near a lawyer who said that he works mostly out of his car. That was enough to intrigue Connelly, and the end result was Haller. Of course, that attorney and Haller are quite different people, I’d guess. But that one interesting aspect found its way into Connelly’s work.

In the opening scene of Val McDermid’s The Vanishing Point, Stephanie Harker is escorting five-year-old Jimmy Higgins through Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. They’re just going through the security procedure when they’re separated. Jimmy’s passed through security; Stephanie’s delayed. By the time she’s through, Jimmy’s been abducted by someone in a Transportation Safety Administration (TSA) uniform. Here is how McDermid explains the inspiration for that part of the novel:
 

‘‘I was travelling with my son when he was about six,’ she says. ‘I’ve got replacement knees so I set off the detectors, and they literally put you in a box. While I was there, my boy was standing by the luggage belt waiting for our bags to come through and I thought that someone could just take him by the hand and walk away with him.’’
 

Thankfully, McDermid’s son was safe. But that experience played an important role in the novel.

Alison Gordon’s series features Kate Henry, a sportswriter for the Toronto Planet. Her particular interest and specialty is baseball, so she travels with the American League (AL) Toronto Titans when they go to their ‘away’ games, and attends all of their ‘at home’ games, too. Henry’s experiences as a sportswriter are reflective of Gordon’s own background. Gordon was a sportswriter for the Toronto Star, and the first woman to cover a Major League Baseball team (beginning with the Toronto Blue Jays). She carried those experiences into her fiction writing. While her fictional sleuth doesn’t have to contend with as many barriers as Gordon did, they still have plenty in common.

Some authors are inspired by major events, and for crime writers, that often means major crimes. That was the case with Truman Capote. In 1959, Kansas farmer Herb Clutter, his wife, Bonnie Mae, and his children, Nancy Mae and Kenyon, were murdered in their home. Richard Hickock and Perry Smith were arrested, tried, and convicted of the crime. Apparently, they’d been in prison before these murders, and a fellow inmate had told them that Clutter kept a lot of money at the farm. It wasn’t true, but they believed what the inmate said, and committed four murders because of it. Capote took those events and created a fictional account, In Cold Blood, that told the story of the killers’ backgrounds, the events leading up to the murders, and more.

And that’s the thing about authors. Even when they write fiction, their own lives and experiences impact what they write and how they write. I’m not sure it could be otherwise.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Bouncing Souls’ Night Train.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alison Gordon, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Michael Connelly, Truman Capote, Val McDermid

I Knew I Needed Representation*

When you think of famous film stars, athletes, authors, and so on, you probably don’t think of their agents. But the fact is, an agent can be a very powerful person. Many of the best-known publishers won’t even consider an author who doesn’t have an agent (trust me). And if a sports team wants a certain player, that team has to work the details out with the player’s agent. The same thing goes for a producer or director who wants a certain star in a film or stage performance.

Agents are an important part of life for certain professions, so it’s little wonder we see them in crime fiction, too. And, since there are all sorts of agents, and they play different roles, there’s a lot of flexibility when it comes to plots, character types, and so on. They can make effective sleuths, suspects, sources of information, and even murderers.

In Agatha Christie’s The Murder on the Links, Hercule Poirot gets a letter from Paul Renauld, a Canadian émigré to France. Renauld’s letter says that his life is in danger, and pleads with Poirot to go to France and help. Poirot and Captain Hastings travel to the small town of Merlinville sur Mer, where the Renaulds live, but by the time they get there, it’s too late: Renuald has been murdered. Poirot works with the police to find out who killed the victim and why. One line of questioning leads to an acrobat act that was playing in Paris. Poirot wants to find the acrobats, so he visits a theatrical agent, Joseph Aarons. Aarons quickly gives Poirot the information he needs about the act and its members, which proves very helpful. Christie fans will also know that Aarons makes appearances elsewhere in Christie’s work, including The Mystery of the Blue Train.

One of Harlan Coben’s most popular series features Myron Bolitar. He’s a former basketball star whose career ended after an injury. He wanted to stay in the world of sport, though, and became an agent (later in the series, he becomes an investigator). In the early novels, Bolitar often gets drawn into cases through his clients. For example, in Drop Shot, one of Bolitar’s clients, Duane Richwood, is competing in a tennis tournament. During the event, former tennis great Valerie Simpson is found dead. Richwood could have known her, and could have a motive for murder. What’s more, Bolitar had been getting calls from Simpson, who wanted to resurrect her career. With those personal connections to the case, Bolitar starts asking questions, and we find out who killed Simpson and why.

There’s another look at a sports agent in Alison Gordon’s The Dead Pull Hitter, the first of her Kate Henry series. Henry is a sportswriter for the Toronto Planet. Her specialty is baseball, so she follows the Toronto Titans team to all of their games. When one of their members, Pedro Jorge ‘Sultan’ Sanchez, is murdered in his home, it looks like a home invasion gone wrong. But then, another player, Steve Thorson, is murdered at the team’s clubhouse. Staff Sergeant Lloyd ‘Andy’ Munro works both cases, and he finds that Henry has useful information. For her part, Henry wants to find out who the killer is, and not just because it’ll be a big story for her. She’s gotten to know the players, and she wants to know the truth about what happened. One of the ‘people of interest’ is Sam Craven, who represented Thorson. It turns out that Thorson wanted to end their contract, and Craven had refused. In fact, they had a major argument about it. Throughout the novel, it’s interesting to see how he and what he does are portrayed.

In Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn, we are introduced to literary agent Melanie Lenehan. Part of her job is to keep her clients’ names ‘out there,’ so she encourages them to attend literary events, signings, and so on. That’s a tall order for one of her clients, mystery novelist Martin Canning. He’s a basically shy, introverted writer who’d much prefer, in many ways, to live in the 1950s world he’s created for his sleuth. It’s a bit of a struggle for her, but Lenehan finally convinces Canning to appear at the Edinburgh Arts Festival, join a panel, and answer some reader questions. During his trip, Canning gets ready to attend a lunchtime radio comedy broadcast, for which he’s gotten complimentary tickets. He’s waiting to pick up those tickets when he witnesses a blue Honda crash into the silver Peugeot in front of it. The two drivers get out of their cars and begin to argue. When the Honda driver starts to attack Paul Bradley (who’s driving the Peugeot), Canning acts out of instinct, and throws his computer case at the Honda driver. Out of a sense of obligation, he accompanies Bradley to a local hospital, and gets drawn into a strange case of fraud and murder. Certainly not what Melanie Lenehan had in mind when she booked Canning for the event!

In one plot thread of J.K. Rowling/Robert Galbraith’s The Silkworm, private investigator Coromoran Strike gets a new client. Leonora Quine wants him to find her husband, famous – well, notorious, really – author Owen Quine, who’s gone missing. He’s always been a ‘fringe’ sort of writer; his last novel, Bombyx Mori, is considered unpublishable because of some of its unpleasant themes and scenes. The manuscript for the novel was leaked at about the same time as Quine went missing, so there’s a good possibility that his disappearance has something to do with what’s in the novel. One of the people Strike meets as he searches for his client’s husband is literary agent Elizabeth Tassel, who handles Quine’s work. She’s an unsuccessful writer who deeply resents the London literary community that wouldn’t accept her and won’t accept her client. As you can imagine, she has a rather pessimistic attitude about writing success. In the end, and with information he gets from Tassel and the other people in Quine’s life, Strike finds out who the killer is and what the motive is.

Whether their specialty is films, sport, music, books, or something else, agents are an important part of many professions. And they can have a lot of power. Little wonder they make so many appearances in the genre…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Jimmy Buffett’s You’ll Never Work in Dis Bidness Again.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alison Gordon, Harlan Coben, J.K. Rowling, Kate Atkinson, Robert Galbraith

Are You Interviewing Me*

A lot of professions involve speaking to the public. And often that’s done through giving interviews. I’m sure you can think of plenty of famous people such as professional athletes, film stars, and political leaders who go in front of the cameras. It’s almost a job requirement, really.

But other people are sometimes interviewed, too. Some are fairly comfortable in front of the camera; others dread it. And, of course, some people are much more accustomed to being interviewed than others. Either way, the public interview can be an interesting plot point in a crime novel. And it can show a bit about a character, too.

If you follow sport at all, you’ll know that athletes, their managers, team owners, and so on are regularly interviewed for TV and radio, as well as other media outlets. We see a great deal of that in sport-related crime fiction, too. For example, Alison Gordon’s Kate Henry is a sportswriter who works for the Toronto Planet. She has a particular interest and expertise in baseball, and follows the Toronto Titans Major League Baseball team as they go to their ‘away’ games. She attends ‘home’ games, too, and is one of the members of the press who interview players and the management staff. There’s an interesting relationship between the press and the team. Each knows full well that they need the other. So, in general, the team and management staff try to be generous about giving interviews and information. They know that builds their public appeal. At the same time, members of the press try to be respectful. They know that they won’t get that exclusive interview/story if they’re seen as too pushy, or worse, untrustworthy. It’s a delicate balance, but when it works, it’s effective. And more than once, that relationship allows Henry to get information when she gets mixed up in murder investigations.

In John Daniell’s The Fixer, we are introduced to Mark Stevens, a former member of New Zealand’s legendary All-Blacks rugby team. He’s heading towards the end of his career, and wants to shore up his financial resources for his own post-retirement security and that of his family. So, he’s playing now for a French professional team. Then, he gets word that Rachel da Silva, who works for a Brazilian magazine, wants to interview him. She’s been sent to France to do an in-depth piece on rugby, the rugby live, and the sport’s popularity. She’s bright, attractive, and interesting, so it doesn’t take long for Stevens to be attracted to her. The feeling seems to be mutual, too, and all goes well at first. Stevens gets to promote the team and the sport to a wide audience, and da Silva gets her story and the recognition that goes with it. Then, da Silva introduces Stevens to a friend of hers named Phillip, who’s become quite wealthy through betting on rugby. Before Stevens knows it, he’s drawn into a web of supplying ‘inside information.’ He finds it hard to resist, because he wants  to ensure his and his family’s futures. It all starts to fall apart, though, when Phillip suggests that his ‘new friend’ fix matches. Now, Stevens has a choice to make. And no matter what he decides to do, it’s going to be very dangerous for him.

If you watch the news, especially crime news, you’ll know that there are sometimes interviews with convicted criminals. Sometimes they’re part of a larger story on the crime in question. At other times, the criminal wants to protest her or her innocence. And they certainly play a role in crime fiction. For instance, Angela Makholwa’s Red Ink features that sort of interview. In it, we are introduced to Johannesburg  publicity expert Lucy Khamboule. A few years earlier, she worked in journalism. At the time, she’d sent a letter to notorious convicted killer Napoleon Dingiswayo, asking for an interview. She never heard from him, and went on with her life. Then one day, she gets a telephone call from him. He wants to give her his story, and perhaps have her write a book about him. This is an opportunity Khamboule had only dreamed of; she’s always wanted to do a book, and this, she knows, will sell well. She arranges to go to the maximum-security prison where Dingiswayo is being held, and starts doing background work for the book. Soon after she begins her series of interviews, though, some violent and disturbing things begin to happen. Dingiswayo can’t be responsible, because he’s securely locked away. But if he isn’t guilty of the attacks, then who is? Before long, Khamboule begins to get too close to the story, which has its own consequences. She founds out the truth, but not without a heavy cost.

Helen Fitzgerald’s The Cry highlights another important role that public interviews play in crime fiction. In it, Joanna Lindsay and her partner, Alistair Robertson, travel to Melbourne, where Robertson grew up, with their nine-week-old baby, Noah. The flight is a nightmare, but everyone arrives. Then, on the way from the airport to their destination, disaster strikes with the loss of baby Noah. A massive search is undertaken, but no trace of the baby is found. At first, the press and public are very sympathetic to the parents. But it’s not long before whispers start that perhaps they had something to do with Noah’s disappearance. As a part of the search for answers (and to keep their own names as clear as possible), the two go in front of the TV cameras with a plea for their son’s safe return. Gradually, we learn the truth about what happened to Noah, and we see the role that interview plays in the story.

Fans of Dennis Lehane’s Gone Baby Gone will know that that novel, too, features a missing child. In this case, it’s four-year-old Amanda McCready. Dorchester, Massachusetts PIs Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro are hired to find the girl, and reluctantly accept the job. They’re not sure what they can do that the police can’t, but they agree to at least try. At one point, there’s a scene in which Amanda’s mother, Helene McCready, is giving an interview to the press. That’s not so unusual in itself; it’s the expected plea for the child. But Helene’s reaction to seeing herself on television is unsettling. As she’s watching the recorded interview during a news broadcast, she points out ‘the best part,’ and talks about who’s present at the interview. It’s difficult for both PIs to deal with her, and it adds to the suspense in the story.

There are, of course, many, many examples of interviews with fictional police officers, too. Sometimes, they provide valuable information, or prompt people to contact the police. Other times, they’re nothing but trouble. Either way, they’re an important part of the genre.

On Another Note…

Talking of interviews….I’m privileged and excited to have been invited to be a part of writer, blogger, and podcaster Claire Duffy’s series, Writers Chat Writing! It’s a long interview (sorry for going on so, Claire!) (31 minutes), but if you’re interested in what we had to say about writing and the writing process, you’re welcome to check it out right here. Claire’s a fabulous interviewer! Thank you, Claire!

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Carly Simon and Don Was’ Interview.

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Filed under Alison Gordon, Angela Makholwa, Dennis Lehane, Helen Fitzgerald, John Daniell