Eve wasn’t sure if he was being sincere but she went with it anyway.
‘Are you ready to hear my thoughts?’
Edward sighed and sat in his chair. ‘Okay but be kind. I am a sensitive artist.’
Eve tried not to roll her eyes and looked at her notes.
‘You have two works; one is your standard Edward Priest epic historical thriller about the stolen artworks from an Armenian Apostolic monastery and the chase to find them as there is a supposed curse on the art if they are removed from the Tatev Monastery.’
Edward let out a long groan. ‘God it’s terrible isn’t it? What a cliché.’
Eve shrugged. ‘It’s not terrible. It’s what people expect from you. It’s what they know and like. I did think you went a bit too in depth on the struggles of monastic life. I mean it sounded like they all needed rescuing along with finding the artwork. Also, a lot of chapters on that monk bringing gingerbread to the west… I became a little lost.’
Edward started to laugh. ‘Can you tell I’m struggling? I’m filling up pages about gingerbread as I have lost the thread of the story.’
Eve nodded. ‘Like Hansel and Gretel, we just needed less gingerbread and instead a few crumbs to lead the reader along.’
Edward gave a small round of applause. ‘Well done. Tell me about the other one.’
Eve paused, trying to find the words.
‘You hated it. I knew I shouldn’t try anything different. I can tell a story but I can’t write – is that it?’
‘No!’ Eve exclaimed. ‘Not at all. I thought it was wonderful but it’s so different from what you have written previously, I wondered if it was the same writer.’
Edward raised an eyebrow at her.
‘I’m not accusing you of plagiarism but it’s dynamic, clean, crisp writing. It’s a proper page-turner. I mean who knew Edward Priest could have a little Ian Rankin inside him.’
He looked confused. ‘How so?’
‘What you have so far is a terrific crime novel. Really good. It’s simpler in some ways but more complex in others, and I love that you have written a female detective. And she’s not described as anything other than the smartest woman in the room. Kudos for that.’
He nodded but she noticed the look of self-doubt.
‘Should a man write a female detective character? Can I work this crime out properly with no plot holes? I mean, I’m no Ann Cleeves. Good crime fiction should have a wonderful central character. I’m worried my Detective Anna isn’t strong enough.’
Eve scrolled through the pages. ‘Not at all. She’s great. I will find the plot holes if there are any, so keep writing. I read a lot of crime for my own pleasure.’
He looked surprised. ‘I thought you would be a Sally Rooney type of a reader.’
She frowned at him. ‘Is that meant to be an insult?’
‘No, I’m just surprised to hear you read crime in your personal time.’
‘You would be surprised how many women love crime, especially true crime. There’s something so calming about a well-planned murder.’ She looked at him and smiled sweetly.
To his credit he laughed. ‘Point taken, there are no wrong books to read, just books.’
‘Exactly.’
Edward ran his hand through his hair. ‘What about the other book?’ he asked. ‘Is there any value in it?’
‘That’s the book you’re contracted to, but the other book you’re writing – the crime novel – that has something special. I want to keep reading it.’
Edward stood up and walked to the window. He seemed restless in his uncertainty.
‘I need to write something different. Those reviews for the last one, I read them all.’
