Last month I hinted that this Pangolin would have a Canadian flavour so here’s a picture of where we are today. I cannot immediately translate the awesome power of Niagara Falls into a writing metaphor, but I do know that this as close as I am prepared to be to Trumpland.

The only people I know who habitually use the word ‘villain’ to describe real people are retired police officers. They use the word with relish and a wry grin, as in: ‘now he was a real villain.’ There were some baddies in my first novel, Yetunde’s House – the guerrilla commander whose men called him ‘Rambo’, Gail Openshaw, ‘Jacko’ the drug-addicted arsonist – but none of them were centre stage for long.

In my second novel, Professor Sir Hereward Innes (I’m not yet sure about the name) is a central character. He has to be believable, have three dimensions (at least) and enough redeeming features for my readers to have some sympathy for him. As a media-friendly IVF specialist, Hereward strives for perfection in his work and has a quintessential bedside manner.  Everyone thinks he is marvellous. Everyone, that is, except his two ex-wives, his estranged daughter and Freya, my main protagonist. She has spent most of her adult life trying and failing to forget what happened to her when Hereward was a medical student.

In the era when Hereward and I were students, the mantra was problem-orientated medicine – we were trained to diagnose, to see people as a list of problems, each item on the list to be assessed subjectively and objectively and to be followed by a plan. Using this structured and sensible approach, we were less likely to miss something important. It was a bonus if all of the problem list could be explained by a single diagnosis.

That’s one of the problems with doctors: we are trained to diagnose, but it does tend to make us focus on what’s wrong with someone, rather than their strengths. Many of us medics who write probably bring the same mindset to our writing. We are very good at seeing problems. When I started this novel I planned to sustain it all in Freya’s voice, but I realise now, 28000 words and 12 chapters in, that it’s time to hear from Hereward himself. Unless we see his point of view, it’s going to be very difficult for the reader to connect with him.

In the first paragraph I used the word ‘awesome’ to describe the falls. For once that much over-used adjective is justified. However, the most awe-inspiring thing I read today was not the gazillions of gallons of water or the mega-wattage of the power stations, it was the survival of Roger Woodward who, at the age of 7, was swept over the Horseshoe Falls and survived intact. From which I conclude that miracles are possible, unlikely events happen and, as a writer, I should take more risks.

My readers based in the UK will notice that this Pangolin is a day late. However it is still Tuesday 15th May here in Ontario, even though it is Wednesday 16th with you, so you have a special time-travelling pangolin this time.