The making of A Private Man

This week on the Bony Blithe blog, we are excited to feature a guest post by the amazing and talented, Chris Laing.  Not only has Chris been shortlisted for our coveted Bony Blithe Award, but newly added to his list of nominations for this, his first novel, is a nomination for the Arthur Ellis Award.

How absolutely outstanding to be nominated for not one, but two awards for your very first novel, congratulations Chris!



With the month of April quickly coming to a close, we're looking forward to more dryness than damp, more warmth than cold but also to the countdown of days until the Bony Blithe Awards ceremony takes place on May 29th.

We've been working hard to ensure that it's an evening of entertainment, glitz and intrigue and hope that you'll be able to join us.  There are limited tickets available, so if you are planning on attending and you haven't ordered yours yet, make sure you head over to our website for details on how to purchase tickets.
We are pleased to announce that tickets can now be payed for via email money transfer.  Contact us to find out how!

And now, I turn the blog over to Chris Laing, shortlisted for his novel A Private Man.

Hello fans of Ms. B.B.,

In the spirit of full disclosure, herewith a few words about the birth of A Private Man. 

I’ve been a fan of the gumshoe genre since I was a kid in wartime Hamilton, listening under the covers to Boston Blackie and Sam Spade on my crystal set radio.  And I’m still a Sneaky Pete.

After I retired I thought it would be fun to write about that time, sort of a light history lesson for my grandchildren.  I imagined them snapping off their TV sets, shunning their ipods and smart phones in favour of reading the fascinating adventures of my boyhood gang.  You’re right, it didn’t happen.  Instead, they’d ask their mothers, “Why would you want to flatten pennies on the railway tracks?  Who’s Betty Grable? What’s a rumble seat?”

So I set my sights a little higher and aimed for those readers who might remember that time or at least be interested in hearing about it.  I wrote a bunch of short stories, firing them off to the usual magazines and internet sites and a few were published.  Slowly, I began to realize that I was writing for myself, for my own enjoyment.  When Michele heard me laughing out loud while banging away at my computer, she’d say, “That must have been a good one.”  And it was – to me.

I can’t explain why I began to write a novel.  It just happened.  Or maybe the devil made me do it.  My short stories usually had a mystery theme.  And I’d gathered a lot of interesting stuff from the forties, so I put it all together and began a journey which took a helluva lot longer than I’d imagined. 

A Private Man is the story of Max Dexter, an ex-RCMP and ex-Military Police guy who spent WWII in Europe.  He limps back to his home town of Hamilton with a bum knee, grateful to be alive and he opens his own detective agency.  He hires Isabel O’Brien, a woman from the right side of the tracks, who defies her father’s wishes to work in the family accountancy business.  Isabel convinces Max to train her as a private investigator and their adventures begin.  (By the way, 3 of our grandchildren are named: Max, Dexter and Isabel.)

I had a couple of things going for me: I lived in Hamilton at that time and I worked downtown during the early fifties so I knew the locale pretty well.  And I enjoyed doing the research, especially reading the newspapers from that period. 

Here’s a tidbit from Oct. 21, 1946 which I loved but couldn’t find a place for it in the book.

“The mayor of Coolangatta, Australia today warned Lana Turner not to appear on Queensland bathing beaches in a French bathing suit during her proposed visit.  ‘I will not tolerate such a scanty costume, even on Lana Turner,’ he said.” 

And the headline over her picture read, “Aussies Ban Lana in French Bandana”.

I’ve been asked how I became so knowledgeable about art and art history because I’ve featured it in many of my stories.  I’m not.  In fact, I know bugger all about it.  But it’s one of the benefits of living with a real live artist and I recommend it.  I should also admit that the rapport between Max and Isabel in this novel is loosely based on my relationship with Michele – a savvy, good-looking woman versus a smart-ass. 

I wrote A Private Man over the period of several years.  From time to time Life intervened and I had to take a break.  By then I’d read a ton of how-to books and attended some writing workshops.  I also arranged a couple of editorial reviews of my manuscript. 

Finally, I combed the internet and selected several deserving publishers whom I thought would be tickled pink to publish my treasure.  Bummer!  Another life lesson in humility, as if I needed another one.  A stroke of luck, however, with Seraphim Editions which was formerly based in Hamilton and has a host of Hamilton writers.  I’m very grateful to Maureen Whyte and her team for all their support.

Yes, I’m now working on the next episode of Max Dexter.  Stay tuned.

Was it all worth it?  Damn right!  Imagine my delight when the author’s copies of A Private Man arrived at my door.  Jeez, I thought as I held a copy for the first time, I guess I’m an honest-to-god writer now.  And I was flabbergasted when I read Don Graves’ generous review in The Hamilton Spectator. “A top-shelf winner” he called it.  Really?

But then to be invited by other writers to join in the celebration of the Bony Blithe shenanigans, well, that’s the cat’s meow. 

To the other nominees for this award, I wish good luck to us all.

Chris Laing

P.S. I’m still trying to flog that collection of short stories about my boyhood gang.  So if you know a soft-hearted publisher …