Lifesaving for Beginners

silence as aloofness. They’ve called me cold. Remote. They were not expecting this. This deluge. Neither was I. And neither was Minnie by the look of her. Shocking Minnie is no mean feat but it seems like I’ve managed it. Then the man in the beanie hat opens his mouth to ask another question and this brings the unshockable Minnie back because she hits him with a tart, ‘You’ve asked your question,’ before pointing to a woman on the other side of the room and roaring, ‘YOU.’
    She says, ‘What genre is the book?’
    I say, ‘I don’t know.’
    Minnie points and roars again, ‘YOU.’
    ‘How long did it take to write the book?’ A high-pitched voice near the back of the room that turns out to be a burly man with a ferocious-looking beard.
    ‘Six weeks.’
    There is a pause then. A collective intake of breath. But it’s true, that’s how long it took me. Six weeks. Beginning to end. With no need for editing other than a few apostrophes that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve never been great with apostrophes.
    Six weeks. Writing and sleeping. That’s what I did for six weeks; that’s all I did for six weeks. Brona said, ‘See what you can do when you put your mind to it?’
    Minnie points and roars, ‘YOU,’ at a skinny youth with enormous glasses perched on a long, narrow ridge of nose.
    ‘Some commentators are saying that your second novel, In the Dark, is loosely based on some of your real-life experiences. What’s your response to that?’
    ‘In the Dark is about a serial killer who buries his victims alive in shallow graves in Leitrim.’
    ‘Yes, that’s the one.’ He seems pleased with me.
    ‘I’ve never been to Leitrim.’
    ‘But the killer was adopted. And the book is the only one that’s set in Ireland, isn’t it? That’s the point I’m making.’ You have to wonder if some of them have been to any sort of educational facility.
    I look at Minnie and she points to another one and roars, ‘YOU.’
    ‘Is it true that you had a nervous breakdown when you were sixteen?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Seventeen?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Eighteen?’
    I shake my head. ‘I’ll save you the bother of counting up to forty, shall I? I’ve never had a nervous breakdown, although I’m not ruling one out.’ This generates some titters around the room. Nervous ones.
    More hands. Minnie takes her time. She points and roars, ‘YOU.’
    ‘Is it true that you got the name Killian Kobain from the back of a Cornflakes box?’
    ‘No, it was Sugar Puffs.’ Some of them are writing that down. I swear to God.
    And on it goes.
    Someone asks about the dedication. I was wondering when that might come up. Killian never dedicated his books to anyone. ‘You’ve dedicated the book to Beth. Is that your daughter?’
    I say, ‘No,’ and Minnie’s about to bark ‘YOU’ at someone else when I say, ‘Beth is my daughter’s mother. I dedicated the book to her by way of thanks.’
    ‘YOU.’
    A small, narrow woman with a pinched face says, ‘Your mother once likened the writing of crime novels to painting by numbers. How do you respond to that?’
    ‘She’s changed her mind. She says it’s more like join-the-dots now.’ I look at Mum who squirms in her seat but manages a small smile. I feel a rush of affection. This hasn’t been easy for her. But she’s doing her best.
    Minnie says, ‘One more question,’ and the room is a collection of hands and somehow Minnie manages to pick one. ‘YOU!’ she roars, even louder than before, as if she knows that her PR career is nearing its end and she wants to go out with a bang.
    ‘Are you going to write any more Declan Darker novels?’
    I say, ‘Yes. One more.’
    ‘Why just one?’
    I don’t answer immediately and into this pause, someone shouts, ‘She’s going to kill him!’ As if Darker is a real live person and I, a killer who may very well bury people alive in shallow graves in Leitrim. There are gasps around the room and, for the first time, I think I get it. How much people like Declan Darker. Love him, even.
    I say, ‘No, not necessarily. But he’s getting on, you know. Maybe I could retire him. Buy him a cabin in Montana. He’d love that. I could even marry him off. Maybe he finally meets someone? Falls in love? Gets happy? Why not? That sometimes happens. Doesn’t it?’
    Someone shouts, ‘That’s outrageous.’
    Minnie says, ‘That’s it. No more questions,’ and the hands come down and an orderly queue forms in single