Crime Time!

I spent yesterday afternoon and evening mulling the best way to share yesterday’s Crime Time event with you. (Well, between visits with friends over coffee and lunch and finding out that French fries, when cooked in duck fat, are truly outstanding.)

As an author standing on the threshold of becoming published, it is difficult to express just how much I learned by hearing crime fiction luminaries Peter Robinson, Ian Rankin, Stuart McBride, Denise Mina and Canadian newcomer Wayne Arthurson in conversation for a few hours. It was an incredible experience, one that, like those duck fries, will take a while to digest. But blogging is a more immediate medium. I don’t have the luxury to think this over for a week and write the perfect blog post. I will focus on those moments that really stuck with me, and invite you to do the same by leaving your comments below.

The elephant in the room

Wayne Arthurson started things off by giving the elephant in the room a good poke. “You’re all here to see Ian Rankin, of course,” he said to the sold out crowd. “You’ve never heard of me before.”

His comment got a good chuckle from the audience. It’s not totally true of course. I for one have heard of Wayne Arthurson – who could not have? The most common advice given to Canadian crime fiction writers at conferences is this: “Whatever you do, don’t set your books in Canada.” And then this Arthurson fellow gets a deal from a US publisher for a series set in Edmonton. Edmonton? All bets are off, folks. 

It is true that Ian Rankin, a rock star of crime fiction, was likely the draw for many in the packed house. But crime fiction lovers are prolific readers, and even a prolific writer like Rankin can only put out a book or two every twelve to eighteen months. We crime fiction fanatics are always on the look out for comparable titles, and what a catalogue of options we were given at this event! 

Truth be known, I was there to see Denise Mina. I’ve read each of her wonderful books and it was seeing her name on the program that cemented my decision to make the trek to VIWF this year. Stuart McBride, another Scottish writer rounded out the crew. I’m reading a book of his now. It’s sharp, gritty and dark – like waking up with a hangover after being beat up the night before. 

All of this talent was ably moderated by the wonderful Peter Robinson. If you don’t hear much about him, it’s only because he did his job so graciously and well, drawing out the authors and keeping out of the spotlight himself. 

It’s hard to convey the crackling energy of this event. The repartee between the authors was so quick and witty, it was delightful to watch. Arthurson started things off by talking about Edmonton as the murder capital of Canada with about fifty murders a year. Mina scoffed at this. In Glasgow, where her books are set, there are closer to ninety. McBride said that Aberdeen has them both beat, though he noted that there were 26 attempted murders to each actual one. “In Aberdeen, we are enthusiastic, but we don’t follow through,” he said. 

Rankin deadpanned that bragging about murder rates is just not done in his Edinburgh. If there are murders, no one talks about them. They scare tourists away and are bad for business. 

Each author introduced their latest book, which led to a discussion of whether there is more to the crime novel than a page-turningly good read. Their most recent titles cover a range of issues – missing aboriginal women, the credit crunch, our fascination with celebrities - and each of the authors agreed to a certain extent.  

According to Rankin, crime fiction is the preeminent form of our time. When he wants to learn about a culture, he reads crime fiction first. What tears people apart and pulls them together? The answers are in the country’s crime fiction. 

McBride doesn’t think about deep societal aspect of his books, he just lets them come out through the story. 

The daemon in the room

This idea of letting the story speak was one that came up several times, and is one that fascinates me. We’ve all heard authors say that characters take on a life of their own, walk off the page, refuse to comply, start bossing the author around. This event highlighted several more clues to what I have suspected for some time: the writer is often simply a medium between a story that wants to be told and the finished manuscript.  

When talking about where he gets his ideas, Arthurson said he simply doesn’t know. They just come, at any old time. While he’s watching TV or playing video games or hanging out with his family. His job is simply to write them down, though he laughs that his game system should be considered a tax deduction.  

At one point Rankin talked about the metaphysical nature of the crime story. He was trying to write a book where the reader knows from the start who commits the crime, and how. All that is left is the why. 

“But the book wouldn’t let me.”  

This is a simple statement that I will be mulling over for some time. It is a whole thought that makes perfect sense to me, though I could not begin to explain to you at this moment why. My own writing process often feels like a treasure hunt – an image will come to mind, often the end of a scene, and I write until I get there. Then the next image comes, and off I go. I’m comforted that I’m not alone in this reliance on the metaphysical to get my story written. 

Please don’t think these writers sit around all day waiting for stories to drop out of the sky. This is a group that maintains their creative process under tight timelines, grueling travel schedules and ever increasing demands on their time. How do they do it? “Fear, and contracts,” says McBride. 

I was most touched by Denise Mina’s words around this topic. She agrees that fear and deadlines are huge motivators. As the mother of small kids, she’s learned to write anywhere. “People think I’m a flake,” she laughed. “But it’s really that I get up at 4:00 to write and then spend the rest of the day feeling sick.” On the question of maintaining quality and giving each book its’ due in the face of time pressures, Mina discusses the editing process. At a certain point, when your name gets to be big, there is a danger of not being edited. “People just assume you know what you are doing.” This is a danger. We need to listen to our editors, she says. New, young editors come through and it’s not about seniority – it’s about having fresh eyes on your work. 

Tomorrow I head back home and will get back to ploughing my way through the first draft of my next book. It is Mina’s no-nonsense words that will be echoing in my mind: 

“Sit down and write. Even if it’s crap. Just sit down and write. The more you write the easier it is. Sit down and allow yourself to be rubbish. Make your clay with a bad first draft, and then work with it.” 

Worth the trek from Nelson to hear those words. I came to see Denise Mina, but I was introduced to some other fabulous writers, like this Rankin guy everyone is talking about.