When I look back at the early drafts of A Sharp Scratch, it’s a very different book. I’m struck by how much has changed, but it’s also interesting to see what ‘stuck’ and the parts that ended up consigned to drafts (nothing is ever wasted – perhaps some of these aspects will return in another book).
Reality offers a never-ending stream of bizarre, true stories that create a potent stream of inspiration for crime and thriller writers. However, in this case, the idea didn’t arrive as a plot or character. It started as a mood, a panic at being trapped which I also explored in my first novel. That image or sensation came first, and it brought along a set of problems. Why can’t they leave? Why don’t they go back? I had to solve these questions, not always through research, but often through invention. I was committed to that trapped setting, even before I fully understood what the story would become.
Initially, the book had a loose grounding in fairy tales – mostly in terms of aesthetics. I kept returning to the image of Little Red Riding Hood entering the woods, alone and vulnerable. That image informed my early drafts. But the plotting didn’t quite hold together. Early feedback confirmed what I’d suspected: the structure needed serious rethinking. So, I went back to the drawing board.
Research is not my favourite part of writing. I often find it frustrating when I know the story I want to tell, and I want to use research in a way that feels light for the reader. In this case, one piece of non-fiction sparked something real. Suzanne O’Sullivan’s The Sleeping Beauties: And Other Stories of Mystery Illness had a profound influence. One chapter, in particular, stayed with me: it described refugee children in Sweden who fall into a coma-like sleep for months, even years. The image of these children haunted me.
Alongside that, I read extensively about insomnia. Samantha Harvey’s The Shapeless Unease was a standout. This kind of research isn’t about finding facts; it’s about soaking in a mood and finding writers whose tone mirrors the atmosphere I want to evoke. I’ve learned that part of writing is knowing which details need to feel real and which ones I feel comfortable inventing.
Of course, as the book developed, I found myself doing plenty of more traditional research on death, police procedures, and other details that come with writing crime. But my favourite kind of research is still the exploration of place. I often write about fictional towns when my characters leave Edinburgh. For example Carn - the setting for my latest novel A Sharp Scratch - is a blend of various images and memories; half-remembered places, altered and merged to create something new that serves the story.
Now, as I work on my next novel, I find myself doing research to build out my characters. I’m not even sure it counts as research, and I’m not sure I know exactly what I’m looking for, but honestly, I’m enjoying it immensely.
