She Thinks She's Pretty Clever; a guest blog by Amy Impellizzeri

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: There are a lot of lawyers in crime fiction. Yes, they appear as the characters, but almost as frequently, they're the authors. There are lawyers who are known primarily for being members of the bar, like Scott Turow and John Grisham, Michael Connelly and Lisa Scottolini. Closer to home, we have Kate Flora and Brenda Buchanan, a frequent commenter here. There's yours truly, University of Maine School of Law '90. And our guest today, Amy Impellizzeri.

A lot of ink has been spilled over the question as to why so many attorneys become writers. I always figured it was because smart, wordy people who love reading and writing go to law school. (If we were good at math or science, we would have become engineers or doctors.) 

While thinking over what inspired her first thriller, THE TRUTH ABOUT THEA, Amy had an insight into what really drives  advocates to become authors - and she shares it with us today.

You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, young lady? Well, we’ll see.

When I heard these words, I was a 28-year old ambitious corporate litigator who had just finished cross-examining the other side’s expert witness – Dr. L - during a trial that had been dragging on for nearly two weeks. The judge called for a short recess after my questioning, and while I stretched my legs in the aisle of the courtroom, Dr. L brushed up alongside me on the way out. He whispered in my ear - his hot breath and hissed words were definitely intended to intimidate me.

I simply smiled up at him in response. 

I had just helped Dr. L look incompetent, unqualified and money hungry with my questioning. He wasn’t too happy about the way his side of the story had been portrayed. I took that as a good sign. 

For thirteen-plus years, I told my clients’ stories. I took the jumbled messes they brought to me – usually in the form of rooms full of non-indexed documents and files, and I pieced them together to tell a story for a judge and jury. I always say that I loved being a lawyer. Until I didn’t. And then I got out. 

I left the law in 2009, and never really looked back. After spending so long telling only my clients’ stories, I remembered something again – I had a different story to tell.

When I found my voice again after leaving the law, my first novel centered around a woman at a crossroad in her life – a woman suddenly questioning everything she had thought she’d known about life and love. Not an entirely surprising theme given that I wrote the novel (Lemongrass Hope) during the first four years of my transition away from corporate law. 

My second novel was about loss and redemption. Reinvention and survival. Secrets of Worry Dolls unraveled the long-held secrets of a 9/11 widow and her estranged daughter following a tragedy in their New York City neighborhood. 

I had the good fortune to have book clubs and other readers discover my first two novels. And a common question emerged – 

Why don’t you write legal fiction? Why don’t you write stories inspired by your lawyer days?

 

I answered honestly. Mostly, I didn’t think my corporate law experience was all that … you know, sexy. It wasn’t the stuff of novels. In fact, for thirteen years, I had spent thousands of hours – tens of thousands of hours– searching through evidence and researching and writing briefs that made brilliant doorstops when they were finished and bound. Sure, I had told stories for a living, but they weren’t my stories. 

And then one day, I remembered Dr. L again. And other similar run-ins with various expert witnesses during my career. If I was a storyteller during my legal career, then those expert witnesses were certainly some colorful characters, and definitely provided more than a few twists and turns in the plots. Maybe there was something there – in all of those dances with expert witnesses throughout my legal career – that would provide meat for a story – for my story.

Thus, the idea for The Truth About Thea – my first legal thriller – was born. Because it felt like such a full circle novel for me following my transition from the law, I decided to open the novel with a trial set in the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas - the site of my first jury trial 20 years ago. In The Truth About Thea, Thea Brown is on trial for a high profile crime involving her company, Alibis, which helps create false social media identities for clients with suspect pasts. An expert witness is located who testifies that Thea Brown is actually addicted to social media, and that because of her addiction, she should go to rehab, not jail. The expert witness, along with Thea Brown’s lawyer, sets the stage for a story with plenty of twists and turns. 

And to think, I owe it all to that dishonest, unqualified, money hungry expert witness who brushed up against me in that courtroom many years ago.

You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, young lady? Well, we’ll see.

I won that trial after cross-examining Dr. L, by the way. I didn’t let him intimidate me and I thought about him often as I built my legal career, and now as I build my career as novelist. And sometimes I wonder if Dr. L still remembers me. I wonder if he’ll pick up a copy of The Truth About Thea one day. I have to admit, I’m tempted to look him up and tell him that yes, I do actually think I’m pretty clever sometimes. And I really don’t care at all if he agrees.

So tell me, Red Readers. Is there someone from your past who is influencing you and motivating you in ways they probably don’t even realize? For good or for bad? Share with me! (By the way, I’ll be selecting two random commenters to win signed copies of The Truth About Thea).

You can find out more on Amy Impellizzeri, her novels and her acclaimed non-fiction at her website. You can chat with her on Twitter as @AmyImpellizzeri, talk books with her on Goodreads, and participate in her online writers community, Tall Poppy Writers.