.jpg?size=md)
What does Hollywood have to do with an English murder mystery, set in the gentle hills of the South Downs?
Nothing, unless you’re trying to find a name for your sleuth.
And no, I don’t mean Oscar.
Or Holly Wood (though that sounds like someone James Bond might team up with).
Going back to the beginning
My desire to write murder mystery novels was little more than a vague collection of ideas, inspired by Miss Marple, Inspector Morse and Kinsey Millhone.
Kinsey was the feisty private investigator, created by Sue Grafton. I discovered them both as a part of an introductory offer to join a postal book club. The moment I started reading A is for Alibi, the first of the Alphabet Murders, as they were known, my ideas crystallised into something more tangible.
First, I had to create a sleuth like Kinsey Millhone for the English murder mystery market. But where to start.
As I later realised when I was writing the Downland Murder Mysteries, all my character creations only came to life when I gave them a name.
What sort of person would he be?
What was his background?
I’d already decided he would be an environmental health officer like me. But unlike me, he had to get away with solving murders, ruffling feathers and bending rules.
Had I behaved like this, I doubt if I would have kept my job.
The answer proved simpler than expected. His father would be the local MP and a cabinet minister. This would make his son untouchable.
A local landowner I’d visited during my work could trace his ancestry back to William the Conqueror. The family tree, pinned to a wall in the house, made fascinating reading.
Finding a name was a challenge
It also gave me the idea for my sleuth’s background and lineage. While a name still eluded me, I pictured a traditional family. The father gave his own names to his son, as part of a forgotten family ritual from centuries ago.
This allowed the father to refer to his son as ‘Junior’ to antagonise or show displeasure.
I wanted a name that suggested my sleuth who could handle himself when danger threatened. He became a former paratrooper, who took out a gun emplacement single-handedly. It earned him the nickname, Superman.
Why?
Because his first name was Kent, of course.
Kent felt like the right name. It was different, but not unusual. But where did it come from? Perhaps he was conceived in the county of Kent.
Or maybe he shortened it from Kenneth, a traditional family name he’d inherited from his father.
The possibilities for antagonism between father and son, for bullies to taunt young Kenneth at school, filled pages of notes in my binder.
The more I considered his childhood, the more it began to mirror my own. Kent had a vivid imagination, thanks to being an avid reader. And like most teenage boys he became fascinated with the opposite sex.
It took a woman to solve the problem.
Or one woman in particular.
Which is where Hollywood stepped in.
I’d seen the actress and author Carrie Fisher in Star Wars, but knew next to nothing about her. Then one evening, Clive James interviewed her on his TV show. She was sharp, witty and funny, with a hint of vulnerability that made her utterly captivating.
I was hooked.
And so was Kent.
In my mind, I pictured him in his bedroom, with posters of Carrie Fisher on the walls.
Then, out of nowhere, I had the idea that Kent would pretend they were married because they shared the same surname.
Kent Fisher not only got his name, but came to life.
My journey to writing murder mystery novels took a step forward, thanks to Hollywood.
If you enjoy character-driven crime and would like to follow my reflections more closely, I keep in touch with readers once a month through my newsletter, Murder, Rob Wrote. It’s a quiet space for thoughts on writing, reading, and the world behind the stories.
Use this link to receive Murder, Rob Wrote by email.
Thank you.