Writing for a living ...it's all in your head by Gary Corby

Gary Corby is the author of a mystery series set in ancient Athens, starring Nicolaos, the elder brother of Socrates.  The first in the series is The Pericles Commission (2010).  The Ionia Sanction is scheduled for November 2011. 

Why does he write in the ancient world?  Because what those guys got up to thousands of years ago was just as exciting and even more bizarre than any modern thriller, with the added fun that it really happened.  

He lives in Sydney, Australia, with one wife, two daughters, and four guinea pigs.  Even the guinea pigs are female.  As the only male in the house, he is, of course, the one in charge.

You can catch him on his blog at GaryCorby.com, on twitter where he's GaryCorby, or on GoodReads. 

 

Writing for a living…it's all in your head

by Gary Corby

Writing for a living is like a bizarre dream.  What other grown-ups get to live in make-believe worlds?  Not only that, but we get paid for it (well…sort of...enough for a cup of coffee anyway). 

There's a ritual played out by men when they're thrown together at parties, kids' sport on the weekends, school events etc.  It goes something like this:

Man A:  "So, what do you do for a living?"

Man B:  "I'm an IT analyst at Big Corporation.  What about you?"

Man A:  "I'm an accountant at the well-known firm of Dodgy, Screwge & Penny-Pincher. "

And then they talk about the football.

This doesn't work for me. 

Man A:  "So, what do you do for a living?"

Gary:  "I'm an author."

Man A:  "Er…"

I've tried varying my answer.

Man A:  "So, what do you do for a living?"

Gary:  "I kill people.  But only on paper."

Man A:  "Er…"

This does however have the advantage that no one tries to get me to talk about the football.  Inevitably I'll be asked, "What was your name again?"  They're wondering if they're supposed to have heard of me.  I'll prattle on about my books.  At some point Man A will tell me he likes to read. 

A few days ago I was throwing a baseball back and forth with a fellow dad while my daughter was at her T-ball practise.  He's a seriously good baseball player (not a major sport in Australia) and I was amazed at the strength and distance of his throw.  It caused me to wonder what would happen if you filled the ball with Semtex and added a remote-controlled detonator.  This probably isn't the first thought that would occur to most people while learning to catch a baseball, but it's most definitely what a mystery and thriller writer will think of. 

It seems to me too that most people don't tend to self-analyze, whereas a writer is always on the lookout for material, and it comes quite naturally.  To go back to throwing that baseball, I'm a good catch, but that's with bare hands, and that actually made it harder for me to learn.  In baseball you're supposed to catch the ball in the sock of the baseball glove: I had to put my left hand in the wrong place.  Decades of ball catching reflex went out the window.  That's the sort of life detail I store away for use in a story.  Maybe it'll be a clue in a mystery some day.

I'm interested by the number of people who've asked me how I cope with the isolation of sitting on my own in a room day after day.  Apparently the people who ask this find the social interaction of working in an office stimulating, even therapeutic.   Um…okay.  Whatever. 

It's very hard to explain.  If I told them the truth—"I find the inside of my head endlessly fascinating."—they'd reach for the phone to call in emergency psychological help.  Which I don't want because I'm very happy with my current mental state, thank you very much.