20

Twenty years ago today, Anna and I got married.

It's difficult to recall a time when she wasn't part of my life - we've been together since we were teenagers - but I know I feel the same way about her now as the day she asked me to marry her. I'm still trying to impress her, I still think it's cool when she holds my hand in the street, and I still find myself grinning whenever she turns that smile on me.

A lot has happened over the last two decades but, through both the good times and the challenges, I've never doubted that I was with the right person. She is my friend and soul-mate, and I couldn't ask for a better companion on life's journey.

So thank you Anna, for the best twenty years so far. May the next twenty be every bit as good.

Resonance

After an early start and just barely catching the train, I spent the day in Bristol, scouting locations and learning more about different areas of the city. It's become clear to me that my original plan for Book 2 will need some significant alterations, one of which is a change to the first killing - different victim, different setting, different everything. Fortunately it's not as daunting as it might sound. Indeed, parts of Eye Contact underwent several shifts until they snapped into alignment, and it was a similar process with today's trip.

Certain places seem to act as catalysts for ideas. I'm not a New-Age type and I don't believe in ley-lines and all that jazz, but as I drift around a city there can be an almost tangible sense of "getting warmer" or "getting colder". And when there's time to look around, that can be very productive.

Last time I was in Bristol, I followed a whim and took a bus from Templemeads to Clifton Down. By chance, I chose the longer route and it took me through a number of places I'd not really seen before. One of these was Redland, and it's been on my mind ever since.

Today, I got the train straight through to Redland station. The area around it is lovely, and I had a great time exploring. I found a great house that would suit my new victim-to-be, and took a look around her neighbourhood to understand what it would be like living there.

I've been thinking that this character should work somewhere around the Clifton Village (keeping as far from the location in the first book as I can) so I took the bus from her local stop to see what the commute was like.

As luck would have it, the bus stop where I got off was close to a sign that mentioned Clifton Arcade. I'd never heard of it before, so I ducked down a side street and entered a truly charming little Victorian mall. Again, as soon as I stepped inside, something clicked and I knew that this was where my character should work.

After a helpful shop owner patiently answered my evasive questions (well, I didn't want to spook her!) and a nearby cafe fixed me up with a genuinely magnificent all-day breakfast, I thought I'd head over to the other side of town and visit my detective's house.

Stackpool Road is somewhere I've been before, but only briefly and only in my car. Walking there, then walking into town from there, has given me a great insight into what it would be like to live in that part of Bristol. Hopefully, that will come across in the Eye Contact edits, as well as the sequel. In any event, I got that same feeling of correctness that I had in Redland and Clifton Village.

Three out of three! And there's still half a weekend left to go...

Friday Feeling

Even for a Friday, that was pretty damn good.

Yesterday turned out to be a day of days, with a rather special trip to London. My agent, the excellent Eve White, had arranged a meeting with a potential publisher and, filled with excitement and trepidation, I met up with her and off we went.

Over the next couple of hours, we met a whole host of really lovely people to discuss the book, two sequels, and the process of becoming an established author. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't flattering to be so absolutely the centre of attention, as influential person after influential person came into the room to meet me and tell me how much they'd enjoyed reading Eye Contact. However, the more I've thought about it, the more I've come to realize that it was also the shock of so many people having actually read the story that really got to me. Up until now, only a handful of very trusted people have seen it. Suddenly, a procession of literary heavyweights were shaking my hand and telling me how much they enjoyed the book. It was a surreal experience - almost as if they'd mistaken me for someone else, and were offering compliments on some other novel - and quite overwhelming at times. Fortunately, Eve was there to calmly focus our discussions on the creative side of things and defer business matters to another day.

Which brings me onto the second high-spot of the morning. A key purpose of the visit was to meet the woman who would potentially be my editor - not just on Eye Contact, but on the whole series. Eve wanted to see how I got on with her, and whether we had a common vision for the books. As our discussions progressed, it became clear that she really gets the story and understands where I'm hoping to take the characters. She made a number of suggestions, all of which rang true with me, and the icing on the cake was when she correctly predicted the ending of book two.

And afterwards, still numb from the excitement of the morning, a lunchtime stroll in the sunshine led onto a pleasing afternoon meeting about a new iOS project for work. I even got a seat on the train home.

Next Friday has a lot to live up to!

Shoot First

My thanks to Ali Downie and Hema Vyas for giving me the opportunity to do my first photoshoot with a real model. Despite the weather it was an enjoyable and informative experience, and I certainly learned a lot.

Hema arranged things and took care of makeup and styling - two things I know very little about - and Ali was extremely patient as we dragged her around the mean streets of Winchester, especially as it emerged that she had tragically missed breakfast.

An overcast sky meant the light wasn't great, but the results were quite pleasing. I wish I'd given Ali more guidance, but I found myself concentrating on technical / composition issues for a lot of the time. Hopefully, as I become more practiced, these things won't be so distracting and I can devote my attention to better model direction.

Still, for a first attempt, I'm happy with the photos. Watch my Flickr feed for more images in the coming days.

Senna

Generally, the thought of going to the cinema to see a documentary isn't something that gets me excited. I remember watching "Zidane" on iPlayer and thanking my lucky stars that I hadn't bought a ticket for it, while the various offerings from conspiracy theorists, eco-warriors, and self-rightous anti-corporates all leave me cold.

Which makes "Senna" all the more impressive.

The film recounts the short, adult life of Ayrton Senna, the Brazilian who battled his way to become Formula One champion three times in four years. Widely regarded as the greatest racing driver of all time, he was also the last F1 driver to be killed at the wheel, when he crashed at Imola in 1994.

It's a powerful and unusual piece of cinema. Unlike so many retrospective pieces, there are no talking heads, no faded contemporaries gazing back through misty-eyed nostalgia. Senna is on the screen almost all the time, with every frame of the film being footage from the relevant period in his life. When comments or opinions are needed to tell the story, they are from Senna himself, his family, or his team mates - and many bear the honesty of being recorded before Imola, when Senna was just a man, not a mourned, national treasure.

Yes, it's one-sided. We're given the intriguing narrative of Senna's rivalry with Prost, and his frustration with the sport's governing body, all from his point of view. We hear little about his family life, yet there is a lot about his quiet support for charities. But none of that matters. As the film progresses, there can be no doubt that this was one of the most determined and talented drivers ever born. His ability to control the car, taking staggering risks at a time when racing was terribly dangerous, is breathtaking.

And that's what makes it such a difficult film to watch. When you see other cars crash, you see it through Senna's eyes. You share his anguish as he stands in the pit garage, watching a monitor that displays the broken body of a fellow racer lying crumpled on the track outside. Later, you see him bow his head as it becomes clear that another of his opponents has just died in the wreckage of his car. And then, his face grim, you see him pull on his helmet and get ready to race again.

When the end draws near, you're as weary as he is. You've experienced the frustration, the disappointment and the heartache. You can almost understand his happiness when, on the morning of his death, his Bible reading promises him the greatest gift of all - being with God.

Usually, if I'm sitting in a cinema and things get a bit emotional, I get a grip by reminding myself that it's all make-believe, just actors on a set. Not so with this film. As the final race unfolds, you find yourself hoping against the inevitable. When the crash comes, there is nothing to cushion you from its impact - the knowledge that this happened long ago means nothing when the film has taken you so deeply into Senna's real, vibrant life.

It's an amazing film about an amazing man. See it and you'll know what I mean.

The Poison Tree

After I'd brought this book home, I felt a nagging certainty that Erin Kelly was one of the new authors who sat just behind me at last year's Winchester Conference. In any event, I'm very glad I read The Poison Tree.

Much of my second novel is told from a woman's point of view, so I'd been looking for a contemporary crime / thriller, with a female protagonist. Women write in a different way - their characters notice different things, and their thought processes flow with different priorities. Getting that right will certainly be a challenge.

But what of The Poison Tree? It's an intriguing story of a young woman, drawn into the compelling and disturbing world of a brother and sister who live in a vast old house in London. There's plenty of tragedy, and some delicious twists, as the story unfolds in two timelines towards a dramatic finale. There's a gentle intensity to the writing that I really enjoyed, and echoes of Brideshead Revisited that made me smile.

I've only finished it today, and I'm still not sure how I feel about the ending, but it's been a compelling read. I just hope some of that feminine tone rubs off on me.

A quiet drink...

I had an enjoyable and productive time today, writing and researching for Book II. The day began in Winchester, where I found a table in Starbucks and successfully nailed down the sequence where Kim and Naysmith first met. It was an idea that I'd had some time ago, and initially discounted, but something Anna said made me view it in a different light. It's difficult to write at home when everyone else is around, so I drove to Winchester - it's not far, and it's been a rewarding place to write in the past.

Things came together rather faster than I'd expected, so I later drove over to Salisbury and followed the road on into the village where the two characters live. I had wanted to check the route anyway, but when I got there I thought it might be helpful to know a little more about the place, so I thought I'd go and have a drink in Naysmith's local.

I'd always imagined it would be the pub on the market square, so I parked up, went to the house I've chosen for them, then walked back to the pub. The place was almost deserted when I went in - just a young mum with a toddler, and her partner playing the fruit machine. I did my "looking for someone" face and nosed around a little, but somehow it just didn't feel right - the sort of place that got crowded and held pool tournaments. A barmaid appeared and asked me if I was looking for someone (which made me smile). I described Naysmith for her but she said she hadn't seen him - I'd have been worried if she had. She suggested I try another pub, just along the road.

This one was much more suitable. Uneven floors, dark wood beams with horsebrasses for decor, and a dartboard perilously close to the TV that hung above the old fireplace. I ordered a drink and listened to the locals arguing about the right and wrong way to pour a Guinness, and smiled as a group of them crowded around the window to watch the comings and goings of a house across the street, and to speculate what was happening inside.

"There's something going on there, I bet you."
"Nah."
"Yeah, there is. You watch, they'll draw the curtains in a minute..."

I sat in a quiet corner, and roughed out another couple of sections, including one set in the village. As I left, almost everyone I passed smiled at me, and several people said goodbye!

I think Naysmith is going to enjoy drinking in there.