|  London,
England, 18 May 2000. I am sitting in an Italian restaurant
having my first lunch with an editor. One of my dreams has
come true. She has agreed to publish six books in a series
called the Roman Mysteries, all because of one manuscript:
'The Thieves of Ostia'.
In fact, I am flying to Ostia that very evening for a lastminute.com
one-day break. It will be my first visit to the ancient
port of Rome in over thirty years.
I am a little dizzy from excitement (and from a glass of
champagne) but a bitter espresso clears my head. I replace
the tiny cup on the saucer, thank my new editor for a delicious
lunch and tell her I must catch my flight. 'I hope you meet
Flavia,' she says as I turn to wave goodbye. 'What a strange
thing to say,' I muse, walking to the underground.
Ostia, Italy, 19 May 2000. I am enjoying a very different
lunch from the day before. I'm sitting in the ancient theatre
of Ostia on a glorious spring day, sipping water and cracking
pistachio nuts with my teeth. I've spent the morning wandering
around the site, soaking up the atmosphere while taking
notes and photos.
Suddenly, I spy a group of Italian schoolgirls skipping
rope on the stage. My eye is drawn to one of the girls:
slightly fairer than the others and a bit of a tomboy. Suddenly
my editor's words come back to me: 'I hope you meet Flavia.'
I put down my pistachio nuts and sit up straight. It's her.
It's Flavia!
Dare I take a photo? 'Carpe diem,' I say to myself. 'Seize
the day'. I take a deep breath and approach the girls, whose
teachers are safely nearby. In my non-existent Italian,
I try to explain about the book I am writing. The girls
swarm around me, chattering happily. Then I ask if I can
take a photo. I get some group shots and one girl snaps
me with the others. I also take a picture of 'Flavia' on
her own. She gives me a wonderful smile.
Later, relaxing under a shady umbrella pine near the spot
Flavia's house would have stood, I think about how I came
to embark on a career as a writer.
I hadn't always wanted to be an author. But I love reading
and a good historical novel is the next best thing to a
time machine. Occasionally I mused about how wonderful it
would be to write such books.
I grew up in California, but when I was 16 my parents sent
me to Europe on a study tour. I saw Rome for the first time.
And Ostia. Later, working in Switzerland during my gap year,
my parents sent me two books which were to change my life.
The first was an historical novel set in Ancient Greece:
'The Last of the Wine' by Mary Renault. The second was a
translation of Homer's 'Iliad'. Although composed nearly
3,000 years ago, it sounded so modern that I vowed to study
Greek, to see if they really did speak like that! At university
I enrolled for my first Greek class, and never looked back.
Later, I came to England to study at Cambridge and ended
up teaching Latin at primary school. Although I loved teaching,
the desire to write grew stronger and stronger.
Gradually, I began to get up early and write for an hour
every day. I read books on writing and listened to cassettes
on plot structure. I became more and more certain that I
would be a writer. But what would I write about?
My younger sister claims not to remember it, but it was
her idea. 'Why don't you write a story for kids,' she said,
'set in Pompeii during Ancient Roman times?'
Brilliant! Why hadn't I thought of it? The ideas came thick
and fast.
My main character would be a girl. She wouldn't live in
Pompeii (although she would witness the eruption of Vesuvius).
She'd live in Ostia and her father would be a sea captain,
so that she could travel all over.
She'd solve mysteries like my favourite childhood heroine,
Nancy Drew. Of course, in ancient Roman times, most girls
were married with children by the age of 16, so I'd have
to make my girl detective a lot younger: nine or ten. And
I'd have to give her some special friends to help her.
Sitting under my tree in Ostia on that beautiful spring
day, listening to the breeze sigh in the pine trees and
thinking about my editor's prophetic wish, I knew it was
the beginning of a wonderful adventure. Not just for Flavia,
but for me.
Supplied by Caroline Lawrence - Last updated
January 2004
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