A Letter from the Highlands, September 2000
by Anne Perry
God does not play parlour games. If He uses physical laws that seem to be at odds with the ones we know – or think we do – then there has to be a profound moral reason for it.
Last summer both my American agent and my London agent visited me here in Scotland, with Meg MacDonald, my constructive critic and friend. She is especially helpful because she is a member of the Church as well, and therefore on the same wavelength about moral and spiritual issues. We talked about plans for books, brain-stormed together and generally had a highly productive time. We all agreed that we should do it regularly, perhaps even once a year.
I said, jokingly, ‘Oh yes! Next year in Tuscany!’ They all answered instantly, without even drawing breath, ‘What a good idea!’ I gulped, and pretended I had meant it. Which is how it turned out that I spent a week in Italy from the end of July into the beginning of August. We stayed just outside San Gimignano, and it was totally beautiful.
We sat in the olive grove or by the poolside and worked. Some people have it hard!
But actually when you have written a six hundred page manuscript, and re-written it and re-written it, and think you have it right, to spend several days listening to other people take it apart and tell you what is wrong with it, is not at all easy, no matter how necessary it is, or how right they are that it could be better.
I ended up re-working almost two hundred pages of it, and going through the entire manuscript two more times. I began when we got home, realized what an immense task it was and how time was on my heels, and decided to work from 7.15 a.m. to 10.00 p.m., every day but the Sabbath. Last night at 10.08 p.m., Tuesday 29th – I FINISHED!! I HOPE!!
I am immeasurably grateful for the criticism, no matter how it hurt at the time, because now I have a work that is better, stronger and just about what I mean to say AND how I mean to say it. A bit like life, once it has gone from me, that is it, no more chance to change it – unless, of course they don’t accept it? Heaven forbid. But I need it to be the best I can do, the very best.
Seriously, to be made to go back and rethink is the gift of a true friend. It is rather like major dental work (which I have had recently – but that is another story!) It feels agony at the time, but benefits you for the rest of your life once the pain is gone. And you can smile and mean it! And even look good!
Most of the suggestions put to me I could work with and adapt them to my thoughts. One or two I could not, and I found myself involved in some interesting discussions. How do you explain to someone else the profound difference between magic and miracle?
“But it’s a fantasy!” my U.S. agent pointed out.
“No it’s not!” I said vehemently, meaning that no principle in it anywhere is other than the truth I believe, more than the material truths around me of chairs and tables etc. And the spiritual world, even more than the physical, can never disobey its laws. God does not play parlour games. If He uses physical laws that seem to be at odds with the ones we know – or think we do – then there has to be a profound moral reason for it. It caused me to think in ways I had not done before about how to illustrate fundamental principles without descending to meaningless shadow show, simply because it furthers the story, or is dramatic. It sent me into layers of meaning beneath my previous knowledge, and that alone was a gift to me. Is there anything more precious than a spiritual truth learned? It can bless the rest of your existence, lift your feet when you are tired, remove some of the rocks in your path, refresh you when exhausted, give you light when lost, even show you the promises of God, and that they are never broken, only at times forgotten or misunderstood.
I arrived home from Italy with only a few days to spare before I was due to go to London for a long weekend staying with a dear friend who is the producer who owns the film rights to all my Pitt and Monk books. That sounds like fun, and so it was, but also highly productive. I took work with me, and got a lot done, went to the theatre and to dinner parties. But what I bring away with me is a profound sense of the value of people. I saw passion and courage, vulnerability, the strength to care and to be hurt, and to go on caring.
Have you ever sat in a room and listened to people talk, watched their faces, and been intensely aware of the wounds of life, and loved them for it? You don’t need to have seen them before, or indeed see them again, but for that brief hour or two, whether they know it or not, you are walking side by side.
That too is a gift given which is beyond price.
I came home feeling marvellous. I had a whole two days to work like mad, then I went off to Oxford for the only Mystery Writers Conference I attend every year. It is held in St. Hilda’s college, which restricts the accommodation and keeps it like a very large house party, never more than a hundred people at the very most. That is part of its charm. The surroundings are beautiful; old buildings, lawns sloping to the river, punts gliding gently down the stream, sunlight through ancient trees.
The people who come are mystery readers, writers and a few experts to speak, such as forensic scientists or police. The food is excellent and we all dine together in a common hall at long, refectory tables. I had been invited to give a paper – off the cuff, as usual. I tried to explain how being a member of the Church prepares you for such things. I was well complimented for it afterwards, which probably says more about them than about me. But mystery lovers tend to be unusually generous people. I have found that everywhere I have been, they are enthusiastic, friendly and very supportive of each other. It is wonderful to walk into a room of people and immediately be able to speak of something that is fun, full of variety and with space for everyone. And of course many come back year after year, so you may see friends and catch up with lives and interests.
But again the most vivid thing I bring back with me is an awareness of the reality of people, the power to feel and to care, to be hurt, to laugh, to be funny and brave and kind, and very intensely, to have compassion for those in awful trouble, and to explore the depth of right and wrong in order to understand it. I met people I will look forward to seeing again. Some of them are worthy of mention, so that I can share with you what was special in them.
One woman spoke of having offered a young man a little kindness, a listening ear when he was obviously unhappy, and how he had then become obsessed with her. He had stalked her, threatened to do away with her husband and children, and generally made her life almost unendurable. She told it as an example of how ordinary, decent people can find themselves in situations so desperate that they think of resorting to violence because there seems no other way. It was told with intense feeling, and a powerful message not to judge when we do not know the circumstances – which we hardly ever do in full. Perhaps that is one of the greatest purposes of good fiction, to allow you to walk a few miles in someone else’s shoes, so you can feel as they do, and love them instead of fearing or judging.
This tragic young man did try to harm her, and fortunately has been put into a safe place where he can receive treatment. Also the laws on stalking have been changed for the better since then.
A senior policeman spoke to us about incident rooms, and questioning suspects. It was technically interesting, but far more than any detailed information, I brought away with me a respect for the man himself and the intense pity he showed for all people involved in crime, which he viewed as tragedy. He said most were caught up in situations they were unable to cope with appropriately, and resorted to violence out of their own inadequacy. There seemed to be no hate or judgement in him, while at the same time not condoning any transgression of the law, either moral or legal. It is an attitude I admired and would like to emulate.
He also said they prosecute on forensic evidence, but he always wishes for a confession so he never doubts in his own mind that they have the right person, and have not made a terrible error.
I don’t have the Pollyanna delusion that all police are like this, but that any are is surely good.
A third person was one whose sexual and alcoholic habits, and whose language, I could not agree with. However she was funny and brave and honest, and I had the conviction that if I were to call her at three in the morning and tell her I was in trouble and needed bailing out, she would be there to do it. She might tell me I was an idiot – which no doubt I would know, but she’d pick me up, dust me down and set me on my way again, without condemnation.
I would dearly like to think that other people would believe that of me. But might they say to themselves – ‘Oh, she’s religious! She won’t approve. I can’t tell her I’ve made a fool of myself or done anything wrong, because she’d sit in judgement on me.’
I hope not. I would love to reach the stage when my behaviour spoke for my beliefs, and the first thing people thought was -‘She’ll love me, whether she approves of me or not. She’ll help. And I’ll try to do better next time.’
There are acts which are wrong, mistaken, ugly, damaging. We all know that. But all people are children of God. Self-righteous judgement of others is surely one of the ugliest of things – it is done out of a smallness of heart I would very much like not to have.
This month has uplifted me and given me a blaze of opportunities to work on that! In a short space of time I have met so many people whose lives are different from mine, and yet whom I felt with so deeply. What blessings.
2001 Meridian Magazine. All Rights Reserved.