Cody McFadyen

After London, we made our way to Amsterdam. Now sometimes you pick a good hotel, and sometimes you don't... in this case, I screwed up. The photos and reviews on the net painted a much better picture of the place than its reality. It was, for want of a better word, skeevy. The room smelled of tobacco and marijuana. My window faced the street, which was filled with drunken revelry every night (along with the occasional fight and sound of alcohol-induced regurgitation). The lighting in the room could only be described as 'brothelesque'. All the bottles require a church key to open, but there wasn't one in my room, nor was there an extra available. So when I wanted to open a bottle of pop, I had to hike it to the elevator and go down to the bar (also mondo-skeevy) and get them to open it for me.

I decided, fine, it's just three days. I can deal. My daughter is having a good time, I can write anywhere. And there is a certain ambiance in a place like this that a writer of thrillers probably should be familiar with. I resolved to soak it all in and do my best to enjoy the city. Besides, I'd be meeting my Dutch publisher, who has done a great job with my books here, so all'd be well that ends well.

I am always fascinated by what makes a culture different. Not so much the big things as the little things. Example - I went into a mall here. One of the shops on the outer fringes was a shoe repair establishment. As in, fix the holes in your shoes. The guy looked like he had more business than he could handle. In the USA, if your shoe develops a hole, it will probably get tossed in the trash and you'll buy a new pair. Sad but true. Why is it different in Amsterdam?

It's the little differences that can show you your own assumptions, catch you by surprise, and make you smile at yourself. Assumptions, in this case, being things you expected as a matter of course, based on where you're from and its alignment to where you're going, that turn out not to be true. I live in Southern California, and I'll cite two examples from my travels: there's no Starbucks in Amsterdam, and no seagulls in Hawaii.

The other way to see a city is to talk to its inhabitants. Being a writer definately opens doors in that regard. One beautiful sunny afternoon, I was eating at a cafe, and I struck up a conversation with a young man next to me. Turns out he works in a coffee shop (yes, one of those) and we talked at length about that. Fascinating. Not long after, he was joined by a somewhat cold but beautiful young Italian woman. She didn't seem all that happy to see me. Her gaze alternated between flat-eyed distrust and tolerant scorn. She warmed up after finding out I was a writer. God knows why, but that happens a lot. The beer flowed, and she finally let on that she was, in fact, one of the girls that works in the infamous windows of the red light district! She also invited me to come and see the inside of her 'window' area, which I agreed to do, of course.

Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea... her boyfriend was along, and everyone was clothed and no money changed hands. It wasn't that kind of visit, oh ye with dirty minds! I was struck by the smallness and bleakness of it. It was a clean little room, with an open toilet and a bed. Men passed by on the cobblestones, hooting at the women as if they were zoo animals. We also walked through a throng of tourists being led through the red light district by a tour guide. There were teenagers among them, and all of them were oohing and aahhing as the guide pointed out the real live prostitutes... it was surreal. We wandered to the coffee shop where the young man worked. A woman was parked outside with her baby in a stroller. The baby seemed happy and healthy, and the young woman seemed the same. She hailed the pot-vendor, and they chatted in Dutch. Turns out she was coming by to replenish her stash of weed. It was all very friendly, and again, very surreal.

Which brings me to a point of advice about research. If you want admittance, you have to set aside judgement and allow yourself to be an observer. There are obvious exceptions (you don't just 'observe' child abuse) but in general, it is a rule. I don't personally think a baby belongs outside a coffee-shop, or that teenage kids should be gawking at the working girls in the windows... but the flavor of all that will end up in a book somewhere, some time, in some form. Listen to people, don't judge them, and what they'll talk about will probably surprise you.

Before parting, I had to ask the girl the obvious question. Why that job? She was smoking a cigarette, and she puffed on it, raised an eyebrow as if I was an idiot and said: "For the money, of course, daaahling."

I thanked them for their time and bid them adieu. I walked away feeling I'd had a very productive afternoon as a writer. You just can't pay for that kind of material.

I did meet my publisher while there, for a great lunch and an interesting beer (lemon-flavored). As an aside, Bruna (my Dutch publisher) was officially the first company in the world to buy my first novel, so they'll always have a special place in my heart. They've done a truly outstanding job and it was great to finally put faces to the names.

Towards the end of my stay, I got to see one final oddity, one of those strangenesses that only happens in real life. I was eating at a Chinese/Japanese fusion restaurant, on the second floor. I had a seat by the window and was watching the traffic and tourists go by. Suddenly I heard this loud, outraged neighing sound. I craned my neck forward and saw a horse, drawing a carriage, stuck behind a car. The car was stopped, waiting for pedestrians to walk past. The horse wasn't pleased. It proceeded to neigh louder, and (I'm not making this up) moved forward a little, almost bumping the car, stuck its neck out and really let loose.

Horse road rage. How cool is that? Sometimes I really like my life.

So I made my way to London. My publisher in the UK is Hodder, a great group of people who've treated me well since the publication of Shadow Man. From there I did some signings in bookstores in Manchester and surrounding areas and then was driven to Harrogate, which is a charming town in North Yorkshire. It has an interesting history. A mineral spring was discovered there in 1571, which finding was then written about widely in 1626. From that point, Harrogate became fairly famous as a Spa town.

In 1926, Agatha Christie, who was 36 years old at the time, disappeared. Her car was found abandoned and hanging over the edge of a chalk pit. A manhunt ensued, and to make a long story short, she was found in Harrogate, at the Swan Hotel. She'd checked in under the name of her husband's mistress. I saw the Swan Hotel while there, by the way. Harrogate is like that - it has all the modern amenities, but the buildings are ageless. For the last five years it's been the spot for the very popular crime festival. This was my first year attending, and I was honored to have been chosen for a panel.

I arrived on Thursday night, and spent some initial time wandering around, then went for a dinner with some Hodder folk and authors. I met author Katherine Howell, and author Kathryn Fox, both from Aussie land. Two great gals, and we laughed our way through dinner. Following dinner, I went to the opening night party. I spent the rest of the evening chatting and drinking and collapsed into my bed around 1 am. I awoke on Friday feeling a little bit the worse for wear, but shook it off and took a walk around the town. It's a beautiful place, and there was a light drizzle. Someone was watering the flowers placed around the tops of the lightposts, and so the water was falling from the bunches of flowers onto the cobblestone. Everything was very green. Here's a photo:



I arrived back refreshed. I had an interview in the afternoon, and spent more time wandering around. I got to meet a lot of different people. I want to say here that I'm not going to try and list everyone. I will say some names, but if you're not here, please don't be insulted... it was just a blur of days.

I met Mark Billingham, who is a very nice guy. I met Simon Kernick who did me the great honor of telling me he's actually read and enjoyed my books. I met David Hewson again (we'd met in NYC) who was to be moderating my panel the next day. I also met Meg Gardiner, who now lives in London but comes from Southern California. I went later to the Peter Robinson party (21 years since his first Inspector Banks novel) and met the man himself, who was a very nice gentleman. I also got to meet Frank Schatzing (The Swarm) and a few others. Afterwards was another dinner, which I had resolved to remain sober at, being that I had a panel the next day. I met the charming Dreda Say Mitchell and partner, and had more laughs with Kathryn Fox. The evening after was spent roaming the hotel and meeting some more writers. I have to say, this is one of the things I really enjoyed about Harrogate. It was a very relaxed setting, with lots of opportunities to sit and talk. My kind of show.

The next day I woke up very early for two reasons: my panel was to be that day and I was in a mild panic about that, and I wanted to see Jeffery Deaver's talk, which started at 9 am. I went and saw Mr. Deaver speak. He was very good. He started a diary when he first began getting published, and he read various excerpts from it that spanned the years. Very funny. He also shared a lot about how he does his writing. He spends, per his talk, about 8 months outlining a book and 4 months writing it. Wow. As a fan of his books, it was food for thought for me as a writer. I don't see myself spending 8 months outlining... but I could do with a little more planning.

Not long after came the moment of truth - the dreaded panel! The subject was tech, and how it both has and has not affected crime writing, and where we think it will go from here. I was on the panel with Natasha Cooper, Kathryn Fox, and Peter Lovesey, and it was a hoot! We managed to get some serious points in, but the high point of the panel was Kathryn (who is an MD) demonstrating how to do an autopsy on Gromit the dog. Suffice to say, it went well, and I had people coming up throughout the day to say they'd enjoyed it. So - thanks to David Hewson and the other panelists. Afterwards was a book signing and I got to sign quite a few books, which was great.


After the panel, all the pressure was off. I spent some more time writing,, and then it was time for dinner with Hodder staff and other authors. Jeff Deaver was there, and I got to talk to him for a bit. Very nice guy. Very accessible. Which brings me, for a moment of aside, to the other part of this post: Knocking other writers.

One of the things I've noticed since starting to really make the rounds of the festivals, and meeting other authors, is just how generally nice and accessible the 'big name' writers are in this community. It surprised me to a degree, coming from the often less than inviting environment of Hollywood in California. There are nice actors, of course, but the prima donna ratio is very, very low in the author community. Everyone has been welcoming when I've introduced myself, and has never seem put off that a lowlier man on the totem pole has introduced himself and demanded a little time. I think,in many ways, that's unique. I have had only two instances where authors have said something less than nice about my writing (they'll remain unnamed). Now that I've made the rounds, and met so many other authors, I've dismissed their open criticism as an anomaly. I'm not saying authors never dislike the writing of other authors. I'm saying that the classy ones tend to keep that to themselves, and that the classy ones seem to comprise 99% of this group. In this community, I'm happy to say, we don't spend a lot of time cutting each other up professionally. Personally, well... there have been some cat/dogfights at times, but again, it's rare.

The point? Well, I guess the first point is that I'm pleased and honored to be a part of such a relatively sane and classy group. The second is that I've resolved to keep my own trap shut about the writing of others. If I don't have something nice to say, I'll say nothing at all. The third is a small thanks to those big-name authors who've set this example.

And it's advice for those who want to be published or are trying to be. Play nice. The person you chop up today you might be meeting at a convention tomorrow! :)

The dinner finished, and I spent the remainder of the evening at the bar in the Crown Hotel, drinking and enjoying good conversation. Kim Mackay from Borders was a constant companion. I also met Colin Cotterill, a fellow author who is living in Thailand. The guys from crimesquad (whom I'd met earlier) came by. I met my publisher from the Netherlands, and Mr. Simon Kernick once again. David Hewson gave away Gromit to a lucky fan. I shook hands with the amazonian Chelsea Cain. The wine flowed late into the night and early into the morning, and a good time was had by all.

All in all, it was a hell of a great time. My apologies to anyone I failed to mention and should have. My thanks to everyone who made my first trip to Harrogate so worthwhile.