It's over four years now since I started writing stories about my London based PI, David Good. One of the more important decisions I had to make at the outset was whether to write in the first or third person. It didn't take long to determine that the first person was the way forward this time.

The main attraction has been that the first person has given me the means of presenting my stories fully through the eyes of the main man himself, which is precisely where I wanted to be. I think it's worked and now, it goes without saying, I'm committed; I can't go changing direction part way through.

The trouble is, as time has gone by my blast from the past, Mr Good, has begun to feature as an almost ever present 'person' in my life. It often feels more like he's right there alongside me. In fact, more accurately still, if feels like I am right there alongside him. And this can feel a little unnerving. After all, he's fictional, not real. Should I be worried, I've started asking myself.

I believe part of the reason things have developed in this way is because as each story is completed I get to know my fictional P.I. a little better. And, it seems to me, the more believable Good becomes, the easier it is for me to perceive him as real.

What I've also found is that I really do want to know what he's getting up to. In reality I decide that for myself, but very often it doesn't feel like that's the case. It often feels like he's making decisions and doing things for himself.

When I consider this latter situation, I recognise that in part this is down to the way that I write. I am an author who writes largely without a plan. With this approach to writing, you simply make a start, then just see whether things go. The characters steer you in the direction they want to go. This, I think, helps to bring about that feeling that my fictional P.I. is more real than not.

Interestingly, Good has never gone so far as to talk to me directly. Nothing along the lines of 'Oih, Ben, how's it going?' I think if this kind of thing was to start happening then I really would be in trouble.

Now I'm wondering just how far this notion of David Good being a real, live person will go. Should I be planning an extra place at the dinner table each day, or will I gradually come to terms with the sense of having an ever present unseen friend?

“What's that, Dave? You've got me a nice cup of tea? Marvellous...”


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Crime fiction with attitude and humour from 1980s London.