On my trip to London last week I took the opportunity of revisiting old haunts from the time when I lived there. It was nostalgic and interesting to see how things had changed and also stayed the same. One of the things I did was have a hot salt beef sandwich in the Brass Rail in Selfridges, in Oxford Street. Now the place is a fully fledged and busy cafe, with waiter service - when I first went there in the 1970s you could sit at the bar to eat and watch the food being prepared. It was worth buying a sandwich simply to watch the knife skills involved in chopping a gherkin - in slices but not cut right through, and very fast. I enjoyed the sandwich and the trip down memory lane. It also stirred another memory in another city. It was during a fabulous trip to attend Thrillerfest in New York. As part of the event the FBI hosted a group of authors for a day of talks - and lunch was provided. The catering was from a local deli, including salt beef sandwiches, And very good they were too.
It was interesting to note how threads of memory linked. Making the connections that provide the elements of the plot of a book have a similar pattern - lots of small things that add up as clues and twists. Sometimes. which is really spooky, you don't discover why you did something on page sixteen that finally makes sense on page two hundred.
Even something as simple as a sandwich can carry a lot of baggage with it. Witness my salt beef and gherkin. It might be the sandwich you remember your Mum making when you got home from school. It could be a posh afternoon tea at a fancy hotel as part of a celebration. It could be a soggy specimen from a less than attractive packed lunch.
Writing a book is all about making those connections and plumbing memory and experience - that's what makes it fascinating.
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