FOL L OWING HIS CAL L ING
He’s the screenwriter behind big Kiwi TV hits such as Nothing Trivial, Filthy Rich and This is Not My Life, but Gavin Strawhan has now turned his hand to books. In this exclusive essay for Canvas, he reveals the real-life inspiration behind his debut crim
H‘Ireallyhadno idea what I was doing, just a situation and two characters in search of a plot.’
— Gavin Strawhan
alf a lifetime ago, I took a strange turn and ended up living in Sydney, working as a script editor and writer on Neighbours. It was that, or a short order cook at a Bondi cafe. I think I made the right choice, although it did interfere with my plans to become a playwright and novelist. A few years later it led me to setting up the script department for Shortland Street, followed by a reasonably successful television (and occasional film) career in Aotearoa and beyond. Oh, and marriage and kids and a townhouse in Freeman’s Bay ...
Then came Covid. I know lots of people suffered during the lockdowns, and I honestly feel for them, but writing a novel is a solitary affair, and, for me, lockdown meant daily walks on empty streets and no excuses not to write a novel. I’d had an idea bubbling away, so I thought, “F*** it, I’ll just start writing and see where it takes me.”
The idea for what became The Call wasbased on a long lunch that my friend (and screenwriting partner) Rachel Lang and I had some years ago with three women detectives. One detective mentioned the remarkable relationship she had with the partner of a gang member. This gang girlfriend would ring the detective late at night and give tip-offs about illegal gang activities whenever she and her fell a had had an argument — and especially after he’d given her the “bash”.
With typical gallows humour, the detective said the calls were so annoying sometimes she felt like giving her the bash herself. It was brutal but honest.
She became the inspiration for my fictional detective and the late-night calls the starting point for The Call. I really had no idea what I was doing, just a situation and two characters in search of a plot, but the story kept evolving. As it did, stuff from my life wormed its way in. My family and I had lived a few years in a solar-powered house out of Waiuku, which morphed into the fictional town of Waitutu. I spent time in Adelaide with my sick mum; my protagonist goes home to care for hers. It was thrilling to get up every morning and pick up where I had left off and have no idea what was going to happen next.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the story room on a TV series, but it’s loud and full of competing egos, financial constraints, impossible deadlines, and dreaded network notes. This was just me, myself and I. Bliss.
My protagonists were always going to be women because of the originating story. But more than that, I like writing women. They generally discuss their feelings and desires more openly. When I first arrived in New Zealand, I’d get invited to barbecues and the men would literally be out on the deck talking rugby and the women would be in the kitchen discussing miscarriages and broken marriages — I knew where I’ d rather be.
Strong female characters have always been the backbone to soaps and the TV dramas I was involved in creating and writing after Shortland Street, such as Being Eve, Mercy Peak, Go Girls and Nothing Trivial. Although these had ensemble casts, they all involved flawed and formidable female leads. When writing my novel, I admit I felt most comfortable exploring my protagonists’ relationships. Even the sex scenes.
But The Call is definitely not a soap and that’s partly down to the gang aspect. Before and after lockdown I’d worked on developing a TV series with Maori writer/producer Carey Carter, based on the crystal meth trade in Aotearoa. It was called Chasing Pure, and it was a great series, but in the end, we couldn’t raise production funding. However, the research and chats with experts such as Herald journalist Jared Savage ended up giving me a lot of background material.
There are some more harrowing, personal connections for me. I spent my late teens and early 20s in the Adelaide Hills, not always on the right side of the law. I’ve lived in flats that were raided by the drug squad, I’ve been arrested, fingerprinted and photographed.
Around that time, a biker group set up nearby. They’d drink at the local pub, we’d play pool. Their leader was a guy called (I kid you not) Patch. He was charismatic, cool, funny and smart. I had a vintage BSA 650 that I’d restored, and I used to ride with them a bit. It was all good fun. Until they raped a friend of mine.
When it came to finding a gang for my story, the 501s were an obvious choice. Named after the legislation that enables the Australian Government to deport NZ-born criminals, no matter how long they have lived in Oz, the 501 gangs are a serious issue. Although my situation was obviously very different, I do know a bit about being cut adrift in a strange country with no friends or whanau.
When I dug a bit deeper, I learned of 501 gang members who’d grown up in Adelaide. They became the factual basis for my fictional gang, The Reapers.
My novel is a work of fiction, but there are myriad local references. I still remember reading the first Paul Thomas Ihaka novel and the thrill it gave me to recognise the Sydney I’d lived in, right there on the page. I wanted to do something similar for The Call with reference to Auckland. As many commentators have noted, crime novels can hold up a mirror to society and all my favourite crime writers do just that. I think The Call has a little bit to say about life, class, and politics in Aotearoa today.
Of course, I also hope that readers find it a bloody good read.
The Call, by Gavin Strawhan (Allen & Unwin NZ, $37), is out now.