RHYS BOWEN: If you ask me what I'm writing at the moment the answer might well be "Aaagghhh!"
I am in the final stages of the first draft of my new Molly Murphy book, ALL THAT IS HIDDEN.
I'm working my way through the editor's notes for my next stand-alone, now called WHERE THE SKY BEGINS. And trust me, it's true that the Brits don't show that much emotion, even in a bombing situation!
And I'm supposed to get started on the next Royal Spyness book, which I know will be set in Paris at a fashion show at Chanel, but like Hank I've planted the seeds and have little idea where the story will be going. And I'm playing with titles: Rendevous on the Runway? A fan came up with a good one: Paris is never out of fashion. I like it but it does sound too rom-com, doesn't it?
So you might understand that my head is full of buzzing and very different ideas, all of which have to be kept straight.
So I thought I'd share an exciting little snippet from the new Molly book, and then share a secret twist to it: It takes place on a ferry boat in New York harbor, taking some schoolgirls on a tour of historical monuments.
We were startled as some kind of siren sounded.
“Excuse me, may I have your attention.” A muscular uniformed man that I assumed was the captain was standing in the front of the boat looking rather serious. “I’m afraid that we have a small emergency--a little fire on board. Now, please don’t panic,” He raised his hands palm down to calm us as girls rose from their seats as if looking for a place to run to, “Panic is the only thing that could do us any harm at this moment. Please believe we have it under control but I need you to sit here on deck and be ready to disembark as soon as we dock.”
“I’ll keep them calm.” Miss Jones stood and came up to the captain. “Julia, stop your screaming immediately. Ruth, sit calmly and quietly. The captain has this under control.” Under her now stern gaze the girls obeyed and sat quietly. I realized then that I could smell smoke and had been smelling it for some time, taking it for a fire coming from the bank somewhere. I could see no sign of flames but I did see a thin trail of smoke escaping from the back of the ship. My heart began to race.
“Trust me ladies, I’ll get you home safely.” The captain said and then left at a run to the back of the ship and disappeared below deck. I hadn’t paid any attention to how many crew members were on board but now I saw four- or five-men lowering buckets for water and disappearing down the stairs in the back of the ship. I supposed the engine room was below deck. Bridie and I were the closest to the engine room and I heard the men swearing unreservedly as they pulled up buckets of water.
“Jesus Christ, I told you this was going to happen.” I heard an older man say to a younger as they rushed past. “You can’t keep pushing a boat like this without maintenance and improvements.”
I felt the boat swing around. We were still in the middle of the harbor but I we were now headed straight for the nearest pier on the New York side of the river. The men continued with the buckets for about 10 minutes and then seemed to give up on their attempt to put out the fire. They came up on deck and stood, two by the gangplank and three on either side of the boat by the life boats. There was a small row boat on either side that could be lowered down. Perhaps eight people could fit in either row boat, not nearly enough for all of us onboard. I hoped the crew weren’t planning on using them to desert us and save themselves. I have to confess my heart was thumping, although I tried to look calm and unworried for Bridie’s sake.
All eyes were on the pier as it came closer and closer. Everyone was standing now and pushing toward the gang plank wanting to be the first off once it was lowered. We could hear the crackling of the flames behind us and started to feel the heat. I began to plan my escape. “Take your cape off,” I ordered Bridie. “And be ready to go overboard if we need to.”
She looked terrified. “Why?”
“In case we have to swim to shore. Your cape will only drag you down.” I took mine off and contemplated my skirts. I was in my sturdy two piece wool suit and I was sure the wool would be impossible to swim in. I looked up and saw how white Bridie’s face was.
“Now don’t tell me you didn’t join your cousins in the East River growing up. I know you can swim.”
She took off the cape obediently and I moved us closer to the rails, out of the crowd of pushing and shoving girls. One part of my mind thought this was crazy. It didn’t seem possible that these well dressed and well- behaved people who had been sitting calmly on a deck moments ago were facing a life and death situation, but I wasn’t going to let myself be trapped into dying to appear well behaved. I would swim if I had to.
RHYS: The scene gets even more dramatic after this. Really a matter of life or death. Did you enjoy it? Because here's the little secret: I didn't write it. It's one of the scenes that my daughter Clare has written. She is now my co-writer and she's taken on at least half the book, coming up with great ideas and clever twists that make it quite refreshing. And Molly's voice? She seems to have captured that perfectly.
It's only a rough first draft at the moment but it's going to be an excellent addition to the series: set in the world of New York politics with a corrupt Tammany man running for mayor against William Randolph Hearst, a reporter who has disappeared and a murder.
So dear fellow writers: how hard do you think it would be to co-write with someone else? Who has actually tried it?
