A lawyer's unwritten novels

Most lawyers are frustrated writers, actors, comedians or performers of some bent or another. The number of “unwritten novels” per square foot of floor space I suspect is higher in law firms than any other place on the planet.

So, in the spirit of Neil Gaiman’s library of dreams (which holds all the novels you never wrote, but day-dreamed of writing on the bus), here are my four “concept novels”:

1. A crime novel set in Canberra. Obviously, being the seat of Australian government, there’s the potential for political intrigue. But let’s not forget that Canberra is our very own Scandinavia, where nothing is illegal, just taxable. Prostitution and pornography are both “light industrial” land uses, and possession of marijuana for personal use is the equivalent of a parking offence.

Canberra has Australia’s highest average per capita income and education levels (basically reflecting government jobs); but also the highest rate of heroin overdoses. There have been a number of prominent murder cases, including the shooting of an Assistant Police Commissioner in his driveway, and the decapitation of a diplomat. Then you have the weirdness that comes out of the universities, diplomatic corps, intelligence services and the defence force academy – as well as the fact that with just 350,000 people, it’s a large country town where everyone knows everyone else’s business.

A plot? I see a semi-employed legal librarian, Elliot Naylor, being asked by a barrister to find the barrister’s daughter Marina, Elliot’s ex-girlfriend. Marina’s a ministerial staffer who has failed to return from leave. No one wants the embarrassment of a police investigation. Before too long, Elliot is investigating the barrister’s shady business connections and is implicated in a murder investigation. There would also be a back-plot about why he was refused admission to legal practice and is scaping out a living in a library and not as a solicitor.

2. A late nineteenth century London historical novel. (I did my Arts honours in nineteenth century British social history, okay?) Sure it’s a hackneyed genre: all those “clever” novels with “guest appearances” by the literary and social luminaries of the day. But I still think there’s plenty that can be done with a society so riven with contradictions. My angle? I’d like to write something based around the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, a group of occultists that contained several infamous or influential figures including Aleister Crowley, W.B. Yeats and Mrs. Constance (Lloyd) Wilde (yes, he had a wife). The Order was one of the more successful Freemason-offshoot secret societies of the 1890s. (Two members put together the modern design of the Tarot deck – like clan tartans, the present “ancient” design of the Tarot is a Victorian piece of instant tradition.) The Order also included respectable scientists, including a London coroner. The fact that this late in the emergence of modernity, the line between science and magic could be blurred under the rubric of “magnetism” or “invisible forces” fascinates me, as does the spiritualist craze of the time. Several members were also self-invented Scottish aristocracy and all-round frauds.

3. A fantasy novel set in contemporary Sydney that draws on Irish mythology. Whoa! Weird fusion of concepts? Not really - the Irish gods were basically people and they interbred with all and sundry. Practical upshot - I see no trouble with a large family of god-descended Irish folk, called the MacLir (literally, “the children of Lir” as in the fairy tale), having been transported as convicts to Sydney. The novel would revolve around the clan’s internecine conflicts, and hereditary succession to certain positions of influence associated with the various pagan festivals. There are easily enough to fill out a calendar, but instead of calling people Sahmain, Beltaine, etc, I think I’d short-hand them by naming them after months of the year. The pivotal character would be the “youngest of the elders” November MacLir – a girl who’d much rather finish uni than join the family business and spend her life scheming against mad relatives.

4. Along the lines of The Fraudsters, a light comedy of manners set among twenty-somethings in the legal industry. Sort of “Carry On, Jeeves!” meets “This Life” with the plot revolving around a Jeeves and Wooster pairing of brains with endearing haplessness. A bit thin? Well, that sort of novel always is. As P G Wodehouse put it, musical comedy without the music and singing.

At the moment I’m far more motivated about blogging than hobby-creative-writing, but I may have a cunning plan to get myself moving again.

Tomorrow, something different.