I’ve been to Writers festivals; writers conventions, writers conferences, writers workshops and they’re all different. I cannot say I’ve always enjoyed them. However, having just got back from the Ottawa Writers Festival, I must say, this was a particularly good one. I was flown in, picked up at the airport, put up at a hotel and paid an honorarium. Wow. Pampering indeed. My husband, Iden Ford, accompanied me which was great. The hotel was a touch Spartan, ultra modern in style, with a small room and a wall to wall king sized bed. However, we did get two chocolates and an apple at bed time. The maid had also turned on the radio when we returned for the night, which I assume was to give off an atmosphere of welcome. My initial response was, ‘who’s been in here?’

I wasn’t due to do an event until the next day, so lounged around on Saturday and reconnected with Ottawa which is one of my favourite cities. As an attendee, I received a ‘loot’ bag. Sort of like a saddle bag in design that made me think of camels but inside, a very nice notebook for my important thoughts, a pen and a poster. The theme of the festival was ‘Open your mind’ which I liked a lot. My latest book is called, Beware This Boy, and it’s about ignorance. The title is a quote from Dicken’s A Christmas Carol in which the ghost of Christmas present shows Scrooge two children who are clinging to his robe. He says, ‘this boy is ignorance, this girl is want. Beware of them both… but most of all beware this boy for on his brow I see that written which is Doom unless the writing be erased.’

I read this as a child and it burned into my brain. I have to admit, ignorance of the closed- minded sort frightens me. I like to get into issues in my books, hitching them onto the vehicle of crime fiction in what I hope is a subtle but persuasive way.

I have planned to go to some of the sessions on Sunday. I notice that fellow writers don’t usually go to other people’s events which I think is a pity. Before the business of writing ate up my time, I loved listening to other writers and reading their books. Unfortunately, on Saturday night, we are awakened at four in the morning by an insistent rapping on the door. Yikes big adrenaline rush. Somebody knocking hard on the door of your hotel in the middle of the night will reveal what is uppermost in your priorities. I immediately thought somebody had come to tell us of a disaster at home. My husband is of a sunnier disposition and woke up wondering why the maid was coming to clean so early. You can see why I’m the one who writes crime fiction. We discovered the next day that the visitor was a reveller from a wedding who had lost her room key and went to the wrong door. I said to the clerk at the desk, “I hope it wasn’t her own wedding,” but he didn’t seem to see the joke. Anyway that adrenaline rush of fear is like a drink of very strong coffee and I couldn’t sleep for ages afterward. I wanted to get revenge the next morning by waking up what would surely have been a hung over woman but I didn’t.