My Brisbane Writers Festival experience

This is just one of the many collage pictures I have made to try and represent my experience at the Brisbane Writers Festival. Not sure I've fully managed to cram my excitement, creativity explosion and sheer joy into one picture. But it's been fun trying!

                                                     

I spent two days at the festival and each day and session was incredible and inspiring. First up was an urban explorer talking how once deciding to do a story on the phenomena he had to join urban explorers in their risky ( and often illegal) activities before they would talk to him. He found in urban exploring what he hadn't in archaeology and he was hooked. He had incredible stories about the underground in London, the Metro in Paris, old abandoned psychiatric hospitals in England, half built skyscrapers in Dubai.

There was a downside to all this as well what with governments lumping these explorers in with terrorists. Fear at what they simply don't understand.

I immediately rushed downstairs after the session to buy his book. The historian inside me was intrigued and excited. On another level I instantly felt excited about the notion of going for it at any cost and figured this book from this cool amazing guy could me a new found sense of adventure!

One of the most poignant sessions I went to really had nothing to do with my writing... Or did it? The session was about the mind. There was a philosopher, a former psychiatrist who went through a breakdown and then a stroke, a gifted medical practitioner who suffered terrible depression and nearly once sliced her own arm off with a scalpel. Both the last two had written books about their recovery. The final panelist was a fiction writer, mostly of science fiction. Phew! What a panel! Luckily the moderator was very good and each got to speak in turns and there was even a few jokes... Which is bound to happen when talking about the mind among crazy medical people, a
sci-fi writer and a philosopher!

Plenty of things were discussed. Is the mind and the brain different? The mind/body connection, plus how medical professionals deal with being on the other side of the table as patients. Somehow even Doctor Who was mentioned ( which went down well with us all!) and the latest movie Lucy ( which didn't ) at one point the philosopher stated that the only people who can use just 10% of their brains are the writers of that movie script!

What resonated with me was Kate Richards and her struggle with mental illness. Some of the things she described I really related to. She referred to how she felt people were living in her mind. Some were benign and others were malicious and as clever as she was she was so far into her mental illness that it took her many years to realise the voices were a figment of her own mind.

Her book is called 'Madness: a memoir' and sounds like it would be a heart wrenching but important read. Her book came about only due to the fact that she wrote copious notes and journal entries over the years even when at her worse. So despite not always recognising her own words or even knowing what year she wrote some entries she put them together in a book.

Like Kate I have kept journals a lot over the years particularly when I was very ill. I'm not sure if there is a book in them though!

So onto another session which was two debut authors, one Australian and one Irish. Both having books with the word 'Thing' in the title and both having written fiction based on real events they had each witnessed to various degrees. Their books sounded incredibly researched and are on my to read list. Particularly Mark Mulholland's book ' A Mad and Wonderful Thing.' His own brother was arrested and gaoled for being part of an IRA bomb plot. Mulholland grew up with what he called 'charming' men who had this double life as killers for a cause. He said his protagonist, a conflicted IRA member is representative of Ireland and is also a mixture of all those charming men.

Now I couldn't go to a writers festival and not see some sessions on crime novels could I? One was focussed on villains. What makes a good villain? Why do we like them ? Are they just a few brain cells away from us? This session introduced me to a fabulous Scandinavian author
 Yrsa Siguroardottir and I have already bought one of her books.

Another panel was incredibly interesting and just nicely gruesome! Speaking of dead bodies and what happens at a crime scene as well as what crime scenes are usually actually like. We had an ex cop crime fiction writer and a forensic investigator who intrigued me greatly. He had some interesting theories and though he has not written fiction I imagine his text books on the subject would be invaluable to crime writers and enjoyable for true crime fans (like me!)

I did a workshop on feature writing. I figured I knew a fair bit about the art but my problem rather was my perfectionist streak that keeps me from finishing or even starting pieces. But I Learned a hell of a lot! Three hours of useful information. Caroline Overington was a brilliant teacher and she writes features for the Australian Women's Weekly on people like Hilary Clinton so we all ate up every word she said!

Oh and Frances Whiting popped in to say hi to us all.  It was almost surreal. The next day as I was waiting to be picked up after checking out of my hotel I was scanning the paper and there was Whiting herself with a brilliantly funny article. To think she had smiled at me and happily chatted to all us amateurs just the day before!

Phew! What a weekend!

My Murder Mystery History

I’m doing something a bit different this week. I am not going to inform you of much or be preachy about anything (well maybe a little bit) but I just thought it would be nice to tell you all a story. It is a story of a woman who loves to read crime fiction. Who as my mother would put it, ’Loves a good murder.’ It all starts way back many years ago when I was a child when I first became aware such things existed.

My mum loves crime fiction, murder mysteries, basically anything where people die. As a child I found this very odd. She and my dad would watch every single program that had anything to do with death. Columbo was a favourite as was Quincy. Anyone remember Quincy? He was a medical examiner who solved the mystery of who killed whatever person ended up on his slab each week. Now I can’t have been too young as I suppose my mum would not have let me view such things when I was say a pre-schooler (although these type of shows were much less gruesome then they are these days) but I remember catching a few minutes of the show here and there and finally one week declaring in a somewhat exasperated manner that this was a horrible terrible show as someone dies every week!! This of course was met with much guffawing and some explanation along the lines of, ‘Well that is kind of the point.” I was completely bewildered and wondered whether other kids had parents who watched such strange TV shows.

Of course my mum was a reader too and read crime novels. I’m sure my dad read a few too. My mum still devours them with relish. I can’t recall ever really taking too much notice except for going through titles on the bookshelf and stumbling upon ‘An unsuitable job for a woman.’ I read the dust jacket and for about two years wanted to be a Vet. But that is a different story.

I was a reader and writer from a very young age and still love both. I always read way above my class level and just couldn’t get enough of it. There are plenty of crime readers out there who started with Nancy Drew or the Famous Five. I am not one of them. I do however recall reading Encyclopaedia Brown books. They stick out in my memory as books of my childhood. I don’t know if I could have put it in to words at the time but I loved the feeling of solving a puzzle. Of course there were no murders in them but there were mysteries that needed to be explained. I was enthralled by the notion of having to read something really carefully, taking note of every detail in order to be able to crack the puzzle. Best of all was the feeling of ‘a ha!’ when the mystery had been solved; the feeling that I had managed to work it out. Or even when I was completely clueless about the solution once it was revealed I could sort through the clues in my mind and think, ‘How did I not see that? I must take better care next time!’

I kept reading as I moved into my teens and was determined to read adult books. I did read some slushy teenage garbage but mostly I wanted to read classic novels or sophisticated stories. Most probably I was just trying to look smart but the results were wonderful. I found some treasures like ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and ‘Wuthering Heights.’ Both of which are two of my favourite books to this day. But one day I found myself carting along to school for the newly established reading time a copy of ‘The Thirty Nine Steps,’ What possessed me to choose such a book? I really can’t remember and that is strange because normally my memory for detail is exceptional but there you go possibly the most poignant part of the whole story and I can’t explain it properly. The only thing I can put it down to was that it was and still is considered a classic novel and that is perhaps what drew me. Or perhaps it was one of those books on the bookshelf and it just intrigued me or maybe it was just in my genes and fate made me find it.

Whatever the case I enjoyed it immensely. Of course it is considered more a thriller then a crime novel but nonetheless still has the basic fundamental basis of solving a mystery or a puzzle. Though I think I still did not see it. I did not make the connection between the feelings of satisfaction I got from reading this and the Encyclopaedia Brown books and my mum’s obsession with crime novels. I did not appreciate I was being lured into a ‘genre.’ A word that was probably unknown to me at the time.

Again I do not recall what inspired me to pick up an Agatha Christie for the first time. Again perhaps it was fate or perhaps there was just a copy lying about the place. But whatever it was the moment that changed my life. The book was ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’ and I was blown away. I thought this was the most amazing thing in the world. To think that this woman could tell a story like that and have me sucked in wondering with eager anticipation who had committed the crime then completely knocking my socks off with the solution. I thought then and still do today that this woman was a genius. If I ever got my hands on a time machine she would be one of the people I would go back to meet.

Thus my love affair started in earnest. Somewhere along the line I started reading the same books as my mother. Following on the heels of Christie was a Colin Dexter, one I’m certain my mum had read before me. I also started watching the shows too and at no time did my mum give me an, ‘I told you so!’

I do remember the first murder mystery I ever solved for myself and that was ‘Murder on the Orient Express.’ I was super thrilled with myself! Though solving them is not really the point at least not for me. Often I will get a little bit right but not the whole story. Personally I prefer it that way. I love being surprised. My mum of course can solve the mystery within the first 5 chapters or within the first 10 minutes of the show. I say very little now when we sit together and watch something lest I get a, ‘You mean you haven’t worked that out yet?’

Of course once I did start reading crime novels on a regular basis I began to understand the term genre and found something out about the history of crime stories. I’m sure there is no other genre that has such a rich and interesting history but then again I am biased.

Learning this made me realise too that suddenly I was considered slightly less scholarly than some. I was completely overcome to discover that some people consider the genre an inferior one and one that is read by those unlikely to read more serious literature. I scoff at that! It’s a load of crap to be blunt. I read classics and books considered literature too but even if I didn’t I can’t see there is anything dumbed down about murder mystery or crime fiction. These require intelligence to write and intelligence to read. I would not judge anyone by what they read. I would not have much in common with someone who only reads romance novels but I would never label them unintelligent for their choice. I hate literary snobbery and can’t really believe it exists. We are all lovers of the written word and that is what is important.

I have seen many changes over the years. There are so many different types of crime novels now. The traditional cozy a la Agatha Christie has been joined by violent crime thrillers. We have serial killers and psychopaths now. Advances in science mean crimes are solved using blood platter pattern analysis, DNA evidence, profiling and various other methods. I probably know more about crime scene procedure then I really should. I’m not saying I could actually be a profiler but then again I seem to be getting the hang of it. There are entire series now based around profilers or those that analyse trace evidence and some of them are very good. There will always be room for good old fashioned detective work but now we have a choice. Do we want to delve into the minds of a killer? Do we want violent crimes described in great detail? Do we want to learn about knitting, making coffee or baking cakes while we solve a mystery? All these choices are available and more!

With the expansion of the genre and the amount of books out there seems to bring with it more and more criticism. There are many that find difficulties with the cozy amateur sleuth mystery. You really have to suspend belief to accept that a florist or café owner decides to investigate a murder and somehow manages to do so. Also when it is a series it is even harder to believe. I mean how many dead bodies have you come across in your life? And if you did come across one would you be inspired to solve the murder yourself?  But a good crime writer will make it totally plausible and you won’t even question it whilst reading the book.  Of course when you put the book down you might find yourself thinking that a hell of a lot of people get murdered in such a small town! But if the book hooked you and you are ready to pick up the next in the series then it really does not matter.

Also I find it a bit crazy when the professional sleuth whether they are a detective or medical examiner or DA is almost always targeted by the people they investigate. One series I read and enjoy mostly for its element of humour as well as sheer grossness of the killing methods has the detective being attacked, kidnapped, tortured or abused in almost every book. I mean how much bad luck can you get? Wouldn’t she change jobs? Wouldn’t she be a complete and utter basket case? Yet I keep reading them don’t I?

So where am I now? I am nearly 40 years old and still love reading crime fiction. I am lucky that there are thousands of great crime writers out there just waiting to be discovered by me. I love it when I find an author for the first time and love their work and then find there are 14 more in the series for me to track down. It is an amazing feeling. I am currently discovering a plethora of incredible Scandinavian crime writers. They have an amazing ability to pull you into the story. The backdrops are spectacular featuring dark and harsh winter’s that can be killers in themselves. I am also discovering how wonderful it is when even after all these years I just never see the twist coming. Jeffrey Deaver did it to me again last night. Just when I thought I was on the right track…

So could I write a murder mystery? I’d like to think I could but not sure it is on the agenda just yet but maybe one day. It is in my genes after all.