Humvees, six police cruisers and four motorcycle outriders.
Gant raised her eyebrows at the elaborate motorcade.
"Oh, yeah," Schofield said sheepishly, "there was something else I had to tell you about."
"Yes?" Gant said.
Schofield opened the limousine's rear door wide--
--to reveal the small sleeping figure of Kevin lying in the backseat.
"He needed a place to stay, at least until they find him
a new home," Schofield shrugged. "So I said I'd take him
as long as they needed. The government, however, insisted on providing a little extra security."
Gant just shook her head and smiled.
"Come on," she said. "Let's go home."
AN INTERVIEW WITH MATTHEW REILLY
THE WRITING OF AREA 7
How did you come up with the idea for Area 7?
I actually conceived the core idea for Area 7--namely, that a
character has a transmitter attached to his heart and if his
heart stops, something terrible happens--just after I finished Ice Station, way back in 1997. (I still remember finishing Ice
Station and saying to myself, "Okay, Matt, you now have
two options for your next book: you can do that transmitter
on-the heart one or you can do that mean two-stories-told-in-parallel
novel." Obviously, I chose the latter option, and it
became Temple.)
The thing was, back then, I couldn't figure out a way to
make the transmitter-on-the-heart idea work. My main problem
was that I didn't know whose heart to put the transmitter
on! I had this great idea, but didn't have a story to wrap it up
in. Then, nearly three years later, when I decided to do a new
Shane Schofield book, I said, "Wait a second, what if I attached
the transmitter to the U.S. President's heart and made
Schofield one of his bodyguards ..." And so Area 7 was born.
What was it like to write a sequel?
Area 7 is the first sequel I've ever written, and it was a very
different experience to creating a wholly new novel. The
first thing that must be said is that I didn't make the decision
to do a sequel to Ice Station lightly. As a keen moviegoer, I
am very conscious of sequels that ruin the original story. So
I decided that if I was going to write a sequel to Ice Station, that book would have to (a) have a rip-roaringly original
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story that at least matched the story in Ice Station', and
(b) somehow add to the experience of Ice Station. It was also
important to me that Area 7 should stand on its own, that
readers who hadn't read Ice Station would still be able to enjoy
it just as much as those who had read the earlier book. I
reckon Area 7 stands up to all three of those stipulations, but
ultimately that's for my readers to decide.
So, to you, how does Area 7 "add to the experience of Ice
Station"?
To my mind, a sequel should reveal some kind of extra dimension
to the lead characters of the original. In Area 7, for
example, we learn a little more about Schofield and Gant's
relationship, and about Mother's home life. To my mind, the
biggest addition comes in the character of Book II. (For
those who haven't read Ice Station, I suggest, at this point,
that you skip to the next question as I'm about to give away
a couple of plot points.)
I loved the original "Book" Riley in Ice Station. I loved
his loyalty to Scarecrow, his nuggety strength, and his overall
"fatherly" influence on Schofield. As such, it was a big
decision to kill him in Ice Station (his death, I've been told,
shocked a lot of people; in fact, my girlfriend, Natalie, still
hasn't forgiven me for doing that). And so, in Area 7, I
thought I'd "resurrect" Book in the shape of his son, Book
II. I felt it might do two things: first, it would bring Book Sr.
back in the new book, at least in spirit; and second, it would
add something to the Ice Station experience by showing that
the story in Ice Station was not quite over at the end of the
book, that the events depicted there had consequences,
repercussions.
Now, I know what you're thinking: Matthew Reilly books aren't exactly known for their character development.
Hey, one reviewer once said that the characters in my books
don't live long enough to justify any "development." My response,
however, is simple: I want to write about action and
thrills and adventure, and if developing characters slows
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down the action, then developing characters gets the chop!
The introduction of Book II, however, was an effort to give a
little more character depth than usual.
Why did you choose to set Area 7 in the American desert?
Several reasons. First, because I love stories about Area 51,
the top-secret base where the U.S. government supposedly
keeps aliens and crashed alien spacecraft. The second reason
was far more pragmatic: a blazing hot desert was the diametric
opposite to the Antarctic wasteland of Ice Station and
I figured that, visually, a sequel to Ice Station should be as
different as possible to the original. And once I learned
about the extraordinary landscape of Lake Powell, with its
incongruous mix of towering canyons and watery lakes and canals, the choice of location was settled. (And, hey, I'd
been to the cold for Ice Station, the jungle for Temple, and
the city for Contest, so why not tackle a desert environment
for my fourth book?)
Have you been to Lake Powell?
Yes, I have. As part of my research for Area 7, I went to the
Utah-Arizona border just to see the lake. I'd seen pictures of
it in books (and on the Internet), but decided I had to see it
for myself. It is absolutely awesome. Oddly, though, when
you meet Americans and ask them, "Have you been to Lake
Powell?" they say, "Lake what?" Granted, it is very close to
the Grand Canyon, so it's probably just overshadowed by its
more famous neighbor.
Some questions about technique. How do you go about
writing? For example, do you set yourself certain hours in
which to work each day, or are you a "have to be in the mood" kind of writer?
I am, without question, a "have to be in the mood" kind of
writer. The simple reason for this is that I have tried writing
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when I wasn't in the mood, and I didn't like what I wrote. I
had wasted my time. Now, if I'm not in the mood, I go to the
library and do some research or see a movie (often just to
give my mind a rest), and when I return, I am usually ready
and raring to go.
The more complex reason, however, for this method of
writing is that I just can't stand routine. I love variation, in
the hours I work, in the amount of writing I do, in how I
spend my day. (I also, it must be said, have a pathetically
short attention span!) So rather than look at writing on a
day-to-day basis--and say to myself, "Okay, Matt, you have to write for six hours today between the hours of 9 a.m. and
3 p.m."--I look at my writing on a weekly basis and say: "All right, this w
eek, I would like to get four good days'
worth of writing done. Doesn't matter when I do it, as long
as it gets done." Now, I don't care if I get that writing done
during the day, the evening, or the middle of the night
(which can be a very good time to write since the phone--
usually--doesn't ring at two o'clock in the morning!). So
long as I get it done, I am happy. Working this way, on the
average day, I get about eight hours of writing done.
Sounds like this would require considerable self-motivation.
How do you motivate yourself to keep writing?
Generally speaking, motivation isn't a problem for me. Like
everyone else, I have my bad days (who doesn't?), but
they're not very common. Quite simply, I enjoy the act of
writing. I am not a stereotypical "tortured" writer, hunched
over my keyboard, tearing my hair out, gnashing my teeth at
the prospect of the next sentence. I like writing. I like creating.
And I love creating big action scenes with words on a
page. Since that's pretty much what I do each day, I find motivating
myself fairly easy. Now, motivating myself to exercise,
that's another story ...
Having said that, however, I should say something a little
more general on the subject (because I am asked about
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motivation a lot). Writing a book does take a lot of self-motivation. It takes me about a year to write each novel. That's
a long time to spend on a single project, so you have to really
love what you're doing--and that means wanting to tell
the story you're telling.
If you have a story to tell, no one will force you to
write it down. You have to do it. If you don't know the ending,
no one else is going to give it to you. You have to figure
it out. Writing a book--to me--is one of the most invigorating
mental challenges in the world. It can be hard (when I
was finishing the writing of Temple, my head was nearly exploding
with all the subplots running between the two parallel
stories); it can be thrilling (it took me nearly two weeks to write the hovercraft chase in Ice Station, but every one of those days was just awesome; typing fast, living the action in my head); and it can be painful (I cut a killer action scene from Temple--before I actually wrote it, thank God--because I felt it was one too many) but when you see that manuscript sitting on your desk at the end of it all, it is enormously--enormously--satisfying.
On a more defatted note, when you write, do you work on a
chapter-by-chapter basis?
No. I work on a scene-by-scene basis. I like to think that
with my books, chapter endings are generally not the best
place to stop reading. And, indeed, this is how I write--I
don't stop writing when I reach the end of a chapter. I keep
going, as I hope the reader will do. I stop my day's writing
when I get the scene done. Again, the hovercraft chase in Ice
Station is a good example. That forty-page action sequence
took me nearly two weeks to write (sounds like making a
movie, doesn't it?), but in it are a whole bunch of small interwoven
mini-scenes--Schofield going under the hovercraft;
Book Sr. saving Holly; Renshaw and Schofield
running alongside the cliff edge. I did each of these mini
scenes on a different day.
490 Matthew Reilly
Any other tips for aspiring writers?
Yes. There is no such thing as an "aspiring writer." You are a
writer. Period. I was told that once, and I have never forgotten
it.
So what's next for Matthew Reilly?
Hmmmm. Good question. With my next book, I want to
reinvent what I do, and take the action thriller to the next
level. It can go faster. I'm talking lean, mean and totally out
of control. In the downtime I've had since finishing Area 7,
I have been working on this idea, toying with new structures,
figuring out ways to make the narrative just zoom along. I
think if you want longevity as a creative individual (think of
Madonna, or U2, or of great storytellers like Steven Spielberg,
Michael Crichton, or Joss Whedon) you have to evolve, constantly reinvent yourself, and take your craft to a
new level. Reset the benchmark for yourself. So, to answer
the question: the future involves pushing myself to a new
level of speed in my next novel. And then I'm going to make
a movie.
Any final comments ?
As always, I just hope you enjoyed the book. Best wishes,
and hopefully, I'll see you next time!
Matthew Reilly
Sydney, Australia
August 2001
Read on for an excerpt from
Matthew Reilly's next book
CONTEST
Coming in hardcover
March 2003
From St. Martin's Press
THE SWITCHBOARD OPERATOR STARED AT THE PANEL BEFORE
her in stunned disbelief.
When is this going to stop? she thought.
On the panel in front of her, two rows of flashing lights
indicated that there were a hell of a lot of phone calls waiting
to be answered.
She took a deep breath and pressed the flashing square
that read "9," and began:
"Good evening, Con Edison Customer Service Line,
my name is Sandy. How may I help you?"
Her headset rattled with the tinny voice of yet another
disgruntled New Yorker. When finally it stopped, she
punched the code--401--into her computer console.
That made fourteen in the last hour, on her panel alone.
All coming from inside grid two-twelve--central Manhattan.
A 401--power out due to a probable short in the main.
The switchboard operator looked at the words on her computer screen: "Probable short in the main." Electronically, she didn't know what a short in the main meant nor how it was caused. She simply knew all the symptoms of power cuts and failures and, in much the same way as a doctor identifies an illness, all she did was add up the symptoms
and identify the problem. To know how it was caused was
someone else's job.
She shrugged, leaned forward and pressed the next
flashing square, ready to face the next complaint.
THE LOWEST FLOOR OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY--THE
Stack contains no toilets, no offices, no desks, and no computers.
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Indeed the Stack holds nothing but books, lots and lots of
books.
Containing over 75 miles of shelving, the New York
Public Library is the largest circulating library in the world.
If a patron seeks a certain book they fill out a slip & the book
is found--by staff only--down in the Stack after which it is
presented to the patron in the Reading Room.
Wherefore, the Stack acts as little more than a holding
pen for over ten million books.
Lots of books. In lots of bookshelves. And these bookshelves
are arranged in a vast rectangular grid formation.
Long rows of bookshelves stretch the length of the floor,
while horizontal cross-aisles cut across these rows at intervals
of twenty feet--creating an enormous maze of right-angled
twists and turns, blind corners, and long straight aisles that
stretch away in
to infinity.
An enormous maze, thought NYPD Officer Paul
Hawkins as he wandered through the Stack. Wonderful.
Hawkins had been wandering through the dusty aisles
for several minutes now and had so far found nothing.
Damn it, he thought, as he turned back for the main
stairwell. --
A soft noise.
From off to the right.
Hawkins' hand whipped to the pistol by his side. He listened
intently.
There it was again.
A low, rasping sound.
Not breathing, he thought. No. More like ... sliding. Like a broom sweeping slowly over a wooden floor. Like something sliding along the dusty floor of the Stack.
Hawkins drew his gun and listened again. It was definitely
coming from the right, from somewhere within the maze of bookshelves around him. He swallowed.
There's someone in here.
He grabbed the radio on his belt.
"Parker!" he hissed. "Parker! Do you copy?"
No answer.
Contest 493
Jesus.
"Parker, where are you?"
Hawkins switched off the radio and turned to look back
at the receding rows of bookshelves before him. He pursed
his lips for a moment.
Then he lifted his gun and ventured out into the maze.
gun in hand, hawkins quietly zig-zagged his way between
the bookshelves, moving quickly and purposefully,
searching for the source of the sound.
He came to a halt at the base of a bookcase full of dusty
hardcovers. Held his breath for a moment. Waited ...
There.
His eyes snapped left.
There it was again. The sweeping sound.
It was getting louder--he must be getting closer.
Hawkins darted left, then right, then left--moving
smoothly in and out of the aisles, stopping every few meters
at the flat end of a bookcase. It was disorienting, he thought.
Every aisle looked the same as the one before.
He stopped again.
Listened.
Again, he heard the soft brushing sound. Like a broom
on a dusty wooden floor.
Only louder now.
Close.
Very, very close.
Hawkins hurried along a cross-aisle until suddenly he
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