One of the problems with my book is that I've struggle with is that I wanted to set it in the US. There were three reasons for that.
First, I figured that it was a good marketing move. Lee Child, a British writer, set his Jack Reacher novels in the US for the same reason (and, honestly, can you imagine Jack Reacher being British). That said, the way things are going, perhaps I should have set the book in China.
Second, I've lived in Scotland for 8 years now, but I didn't feel I know Scotland well enough to write it. There are many Scottish things I simply don't get or understand - the bagpipes, for instance. It's the same with Ireland where I lived for 3 years before that. And, as for New Zealand where I grew up and lived until the week before I turned 28, sadly, I've not said "Gidday" for 5 years, and if I'm honest with myself I feel more British than I do New Zealandish. I feel horrible typing that, but it's true. And I feel even more Irish than I do British, which will keep my lovely wife happy.
So, I figured that if I couldn't write somewhere I'd lived then why not write somewhere I'd never even visited ...
The third reason is a little embarrassing to admit. I have 2, no make that 3, friends who make me yawn when they speak. It's the same when I read books based in Britain. I don't know why. Well, maybe I do. Perhaps that's because only the "better" US books make it onto British book shelves?
Don't know. But then I remembered the fantastic Alistair McLean novels I read as a teenager. And Michael Robotham's latest book, set down south somewhere, was brilliantly written.
But then Susannah, my lovely editor, told me (in nicer words than this) that I really should set the book in a place I knew because I simply couldn't write "america". My friend Ian told me the same. As did others. A few others (Americans) said they liked British based books.
So I took a shot at it. I moved the book back to Edinburgh. And it hurt.
I couldn't do it. I felt dishonest. I really couldn't write it.
So I couldn't write America where I have never lived AND I couldn't write Edinburgh where I have lived.
Ho hum. What to do.
I got even more dishonest and I invented a city. It's called Bearing Town (The Goal was set in a town called Bearington) and it's somewhere on the Scottish / English borders, near the sea. The trains run through it. It has a castle in the middle of the city, sitting atop a nice hill. It has a lovely central park, with tourist trams running around it. It's on the west coast and a lot of Irish immigrated there during the potato famine. You can buy a good honest pint of guiness there too, so my brother in law would like it.
It even has a good university which is popular with foreigners. A lot of them stay on afterwards. Now that I think about it, Steve's wife, Fran, is from Ireland and she studied in Bearing town. I'll have to change her name to something more irish sounding ...
Strange. Bearing Town doesn't exist, but it feels very real to me and it's easy to write, to invent as I go along.
The weather's still shite though. I can't do anything about that.
