The Contemporary Nomad is where five authors talk with you, dear reader, about the important subjects of the day. Whatever we decide they might be. Read more 
S T E I N H A U E R
Over the last month or so, since finishing the rough draft of the last book of the series (now officially titled Victory Square), I’ve been struggling to conceptualize the next novel, about which I’ve only been sure of one thing: it’s gonna be a spy novel. A lot of writers are able to go with this, and simply start writing (and I’ve tried that too), but it’s become clear to me that I’m a formalist when it comes to writing.
By this, I mean that, before writing in earnest, I need to have an idea of what shape the book will have. Will it be long or short? Will it be part of a series? Multiple perspectives? Heavy, or light, or even satirical? Will it read as a single continual tale, or be told in episodes? It doesn’t matter if my original concept is what I end up with (it seldom is)–I just need a reason to get excited, which gets my ass in gear.
Sometimes, I feel I’ve answered a few of these questions, and so I start writing, only to learn, some days and many words later, that I didn’t get it right. (I’ve probably written about 300 pages by now, all of which have been tossed aside.) And by “right”, I mean something that’s both interesting and original. So I pull back and return to pondering. This isn’t necessarily the best way to write, but we all develop our habits over time, and become dependent on them. It’s just the way it is.
Among my circle of friends here in Budapest are a lot journalists, and it’s often said that every journalist wants to be a thriller writer. I don’t know if this is true, but it’s true of many that I’ve met. We often talk about writing thrillers, coming up with plots surrounding some earth-shattering wicked conspiracy, or some earth-shaking invention that some people want to get hold of. And though my have stories rarely dealt with such “big” storylines, the conversations have started to sink into my brain.
The focus of these conversations always surrounds what that earth-shattering thing is. Fellow Nomad Robin once called it “the magic bauble”, the thing around which all the suspense and death revolves. We can call it “the stakes”, and in contemporary thrillers, there’s the assumption that the stakes must be huge.
Back to me: In various incarnations of my many pages so far, I’ve been dealing with this idea, that the underlying plot must be something that either makes the planet quiver, or at least means the death of large numbers of people. Which is one reason I keep tearing up pages. And why, now, I seem to have turned a corner.
Largely it’s the result of frustration, but I’m starting to think that the big stakes, no matter what they are, all look the same. Nuclear bomb? Yeah, okay. Poisoned water supply to a metropolis? Sure. Terrorist uprising? Of course. A new energy source that the oil companies want to keep quiet? Why not? But all these magic baubles are beginning to feel about the same to me. We’re dealing with fiction, after all, and we know that whatever disaster occurs will end by the end of the book. We know that the magic bauble is only there to keep things running along.
So I find myself moving in the opposite direction. I’ve recently become interested in an old television program (no surprise for those of you tired of my television talk!), Danger Man (in the US: Secret Agent), starring Patrick McGoohan (before his seminal series, The Prisoner). It’s “the thinking man’s Bond” in one way, but it’s also James Bond without all that pretense. Rarely is McGoohan’s agent, John Drake, saving the world. In the half-hour episodes of the first season (it went to a full hour afterwards), he sometimes finds himself in some pseudonymous Middle Eastern or Eastern European country, saving someone from assassination. But often it’s not even as sensational as that.
The other night I watched one episode (ironically entitled “The Prisoner”) in which a US diplomat in a Caribbean country has been tried for espionage in absentia and sentenced to death, and so has holed up in the embassy for the last five years, trapped. Drake is told to get him out safely, which he does by using a famous pianist who is the diplomat’s physical double, and using a lot of his own cunning. Drake doesn’t use guns, and doesn’t seduce girls. He simply does his intelligence work in his small way, does it cleverly and without a lot of small-talk.
This is the direction I’m moving. Away from the mega-plots that riddle contemporary spy fiction, and toward a quieter, and hopefully more interesting, direction. I’m not interested in out-doing the news, which is all-thriller-all-the-time these days.
Of course, given my love of changing my mind, this could all go out the window next week. But it’s nice to have something to work with, as I start again from scratch.
—–
Afterthought, an hour later:
I realize you might think I’m suggesting that the magic bauble is the basis of all thrillers out there–quite the contrary. It’s just the kind of thrillers that seem to be floating around me now, the ones that enter into conversation. Take, for instance, Friar Wignall, whose thrillers thrill, but the thrill is focused on human drama, rather than a stopwatch tied to a bomb in a shopping mall.
September 12th, 2006 at 3:13 pm
Aha! Again we are somewhat in sync. I am about finished with the current monster. The series lags, and I refuse to go on until it shows signs of life. So what next? Another historical? Maybe in Europe (since there seems little reader interest in less familiar locales)? Or a police procedural (which I happen to love?) Or something like that blissfully gentle and amusing Mma Ramotswe (about the only cozy I can stomach)?
As for you, my friend: Get to know your character and care about him. The plot will follow. Once you have to become engaged in the man’s life and personality, you will be able to write. And your readers will read. As for a series, I plan to leave that up to the success of the first novel.
September 12th, 2006 at 5:22 pm
Friar Wignall? I hope you’re not suggesting I’m rotund!
Seriously, I think Ingrid’s spot on, as are you in the second half of your post. The trouble with the save the world plots is that they are, by their very nature, difficult to paint at a human level. We don’t care as much, in the same way that it’s easier to drop a bomb on thousands of people than it is to kill one person at close quarters.
In addition, if you look at some of the more recent cinema successes in the thriller world, they may involve complex conspiracies but they always centre on a personal crisis, not a public one. The Bourne films are not about events that shape the world, only about events that shape Jason Bourne. Likewise, “Enemy of the State” is not really about the state at all, but about how it can screw up the life of one individual (Will Smith).
September 12th, 2006 at 5:38 pm
You’re both right, though this thing about imagining the form & shape of a novel (not necessarily the plot) before really writing is just how I’ve always done it. But I’m figuring it out…
Friars are not necessarily rotund, Kevin, though I did imagine them celibate! No, I just imagine you as the high priest of minimalist intrigue. Now pass me another martini.
September 12th, 2006 at 8:31 pm
Ingrid, I was just watching a Danger Man episode that takes place in Japan, then suddenly remembered what you said here, that readers want more familiar terrain, so you might go for Europe. Be warned: My agent is pushing me to go with an entirely American, or at least US-focused, setting, in order to bring in more readers.
But it’s such a slippery slope. One Amazon UK reviewer said that he thought one of my books was excellent, but would’ve REALLY liked it if it was set in the UK!
Another thing is the historical aspect, which I’m now trying to break myself out of. I think historical fiction naturally alienates a larger portion of the crime fiction market than geography does. I’m not sure, just have that feeling.
Anyway, I’m glad you mentioned it because it’s something I want to post about, the foreign/domestic, historical/contemporary market share. I’ll get to it in the next days and maybe we can make an interesting conversation of it.
September 12th, 2006 at 9:43 pm
Olen,
I am so happy to hear that you are looking to avoid the over-the-top techno-thriller. Not that I am against reading those on occasion, nor that you wouldn’t do a fine job at it if you undertook to do so, but the world doesn’t need any more.
LM didn’t center on the end of the world and yet it was one of the better espionage novels I have read in some time. You, and Friar Wignall, write what I call literary thrillers – smart and sophisticated but still fast paced and with a strong plot element. As I hope is obvious, I am a big fan of this style.
You would not be wise to take career advice from me as I have no idea what will sell. But so far you haven’t let me down. Each book has been unique and enjoyable in its own way. So trust yourself.
September 12th, 2006 at 10:22 pm
Yeah! :)