Most of the writers I know have at least one bizarre habit. One locks his manuscripts in the freezer so that, if the house burns down, at least his work is safe. Another refuses to speak a word until she’s finished her ten pages of the day. As for me, I spy on people. I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself; I spy, I snoop, I eavesdrop, and then – even worse – I write down everything I’ve learned.
I think I started spying after I moved to New York and started riding the subways, which are always populated by a great collection of characters: people fighting or making up, people on their way to dates or visiting the city from distant continents. In fact, several of the people I’ve spied on in the subway have become characters in my books – the teenage boy with the septum ring and the violin case, the well-dressed woman accusing her boyfriend of liking someone else.
Watching people and listening to them trains me to pay attention to the way real people act, the things they say, the way they approach the world. It’s fascinating, and it’s great research for a writer.
Have I been caught? Sure. Yelled at? Um, once or twice. But I think that, in order to create believable characters, it’s worth the risk of embarrassing myself and even invading someone else’s privacy a little bit. I tell myself it’s valuable investigation work – but even if it weren’t, I don’t think I’d be able to stop. Strangers are just too interesting to ignore!
Have any good spying stories?
Jessie Elliot
Author of Girls Dinner Club
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