Laura Lippman is
one of the few authors to have won nearly every single mystery award. She
is best known for writing a series of novels set in Baltimore and featuring
Tess Monaghan, a reporter turned private investigator. Lippman's novels have won the Agatha,
Anthony, Edgar®, Nero, Gumshoe, Barry and Shamus awards. Her 2003 novel Every Secret Thing, has been optioned for the movie by
Academy Award–winning actor Frances McDormand. Her 2007 release, What the Dead Know, was the first of her books to make the New
York Times bestseller list, and was shortlisted for the Crime Writer's
Association Dagger Award. She also has
been nominated for other prizes in the crime fiction field, including the
Hammett and the Macavity. She was
recently awarded the first Pinckley
Prize for a Distinguished Body of Work for crime fiction, named to honor the memory of Diana Pinckley,
long time crime fiction columnist for The New Orleans Times-Picayune.
I have been told
by reliable sources that writers hate to discuss their ideas and I don’t doubt
it. But I’ve always felt it as a fair
question and one I prefer to inquiries about where a novel lines up with real
life. (It’s a novel. It doesn’t line up with real life. Even if it’s inspired by real life, as mine
often are.)
So I’m always
happy to talk about my ideas. What I
don’t want to talk about is other people’s ideas – that is, ideas that they
want me to write; an offer that usually comes with the generous proposal that
we then split all proceeds 50-50. And I
can tell, when the offer is made, that the person thinks he’s being more than
fair. After all, the idea is the thing
and the writing is just mechanical, no?
I get ideas, as
the old song says. I never have a
problem coming up with ideas. I once
brainstormed my way to a new novel in the 20 minutes it took another writer to
deliver a completely stupid talk on inspiration. The talk infuriated me, as I found it
ethereal and not at all helpful to the would-be writers to whom it was
addressed. As refutation of its
indifference to pragmatism, I decided to have an idea on the spot and I did,
via old-fashioned brainstorming. The
result was I’d Know you Anywhere
(published in the UK as Don’t Look Back)
and it was one of my most successful books to date.
So, please don’t
give me your ideas. Even if they are
very, very, very good – and some are – I won’t have the emotional attachment I
need to write. I won’t listen to anyone
else’s ideas.
Unless you’re
married to me. My husband, David Simon,
was the person who first suggested there was a story to be found in the
real-life women who surrounded a legendary Baltimore numbers runner, Julius
Salsbury. (Yes, that’s the correct
spelling.)
I really
couldn’t see it at first. Salsbury,
facing a 15-year sentence on mail fraud charges, disappeared in the early
1970s, never to be seen again. He left
behind a wife and a girlfriend. Rumour
had it that he managed to provide for everyone.
Rumour also had it that he sneaked back into Baltimore from wherever he
had gone, but I always doubted that. In
fact, it seemed to overlap with the tradition of Elijah, the invisible spirit
who slips through an open door at Passover to take a sip of wine. A nice legend, but probably nothing more.
My husband
provided all the information, but all I heard, the first few times he made his
case, was wife-girlfriend, wife-girlfriend.
A triangle. I don’t have much to
say about triangles, other than the observation that they’re tragic. At least one person is hurt, usually two,
often three.
But one day,
when he made his pitch yet again, I focused on a detail that had escaped me
before – the missing man had three daughters.
So now I had five women, five points on a star. I like the number five. I like stars.
When I was a teenager, I was such a nerd that I created a series of
geometry theorems based on stars. If you
draw a star as I was taught to draw one, with a series of five slashing lines,
you create five triangles – but they are anchored by pentagon. Now that’s a form I find interesting.
It also gave me
a chance to write about three different generations – a woman born at the end
of the Depression era in the United States, two daughters born in the
post-World War II Baby Boom and a third child, showing up a decade later in the
so-called Generation X.
In many ways, After I’m Gone is a Valentine to the
women of my mother’s generation, who did more with less. Bernadette “Bambi” Gottschalk Brewer is a
young woman who has the intelligence to succeed in college, but lacks the will. She marries at the age of 19. Her daughters have more choices, more options. Are they happier? That question is as central to the novel as
the whereabouts of Felix Brewer and the identity of the person who has, many
years later, killed his mistress, Julie Saxony.
The result was what I believe to be my best novel to date --
certainly my favourite to write. But I
still don’t want to hear other people’s ideas.
Unless you marry me first.
After I’m Gone by Laura
Lippman is out now, priced £12.99 (Faber & Faber)
