I’ve drawn a balance between local flavor and international accessibility- tried to be like a burger-sell global, stay local. In commercial fiction, you must serve it on a platter or be ignored. What translates? What will not? How much will they google (answer: not much at all). While these have proven fun discoveries, a part of me remains forever on alert.

That there are only windbreakers, no windcheaters. I’ve learned, for instance, that a US audience can withstand horrific abuse against women, but not puppies. That fascination would never quit, but alongside, I have a new one: what is the reader’s journey? What did they think? How did they feel? What did they understand? It’s been a revelation. Who is reading my book? What does it say to them? Why am I writing it?Įarlier, I would use my craft to bring nuance to my characters. Who was she? Why was she there? Who was watching her?Īnd in some ways, writing for an audience in a country you’ve never been to becomes a similar experience. It brought me more questions than answers. This was how Tara came into being, posing in her shimmery sequinned saree (yes, that’s an alliteration) at a Mumbai railway station, and breaking into a run in order to leave within three minutes of receiving a call. I’d simply attended a writing class and the tutor gave us a prompt: write about someone who is being watched, but doesn’t know about it. When writing the first draft, I didn’t know I’d sell the book someday.

You might think it would fit right into a city like Los Angeles, with its similar mix of grit and glamor. The Blue Bar is set in Mumbai, which means it holds a lot of local color. When I started my life as a writer many moons ago, I’d have laughed at you if you told me I’d one day write a thriller set in India and sell the book in the USA.

The Blue Monsoon by Damyanti Biswas