Q&A with Justin Maelzer

What first inspired the idea for Death of a Camgirl?

The title came to me first and instantly the hook of the story — the instigating murder — followed. It’s essentially Rear Window for the OnlyFans era, which felt inevitable once the idea took hold. I was convinced that someone else must already have done it, but a bit of research suggested no one had quite approached it from this angle. The idea was just too juicy not to develop.

How did you approach writing about the world of cam sites and online fandoms?

I did a bit of ‘research’ into cam sites, but my limited experience showed me that there is a lot of commonality between online communities. SF fans, music enthusiasts, political pundits — they all act fairly similarly online; only the subject matter changes. It was easy to project that behaviour onto the world of cam sites, where the dynamics are familiar even if the content isn’t.

Craig and Karen’s relationship feels central to the story. How did you develop their dynamic alongside the mystery plot?

The plot was outlined quite thoroughly before I started writing, but I didn’t have a handle on these characters until I got into it. That ended up being the biggest surprise to me as I wrote the novel — I grew to really love them and their relationship. I was keen to show a generally functional relationship, which I think is underserved, especially in the crime genre. The brilliant cop who is a disaster in his personal life is such a cliché, so I wanted to go against that. I also wanted to show a relationship in transition. It’s often assumed that established relationships don’t evolve and therefore are boring, but in reality they evolve constantly, and there’s tension there that’s worth exploring. Finally, I wanted to add some humour to balance out the grimness of the story, and their repartee was a natural expression of that. The dialogue between the two is some of my favourite material in the book.

Your story mixes everyday realism with online intrigue. Was it important to keep the investigation grounded rather than turning it into a high-tech thriller?

Given the setup, the novel could have gone off in many directions; the murder could have led to a Taken-style revenge odyssey for Craig, or become the instigating factor in uncovering an international conspiracy. But those ideas bore me, to be honest. I absolutely wanted to keep the story grounded and real, and therefore relatable. It also forced me towards more inventive solutions. I knew that Craig would not be solving the murder with his fists but with his wits, and it’s a challenge to make the resolution both satisfying and plausible.

Many readers will find Craig relatable — an ordinary person drawn into something darker. What do you think makes him an effective sleuth?

There is definitely an everyman quality to him, and I hope readers find themselves thinking, “What would I do in this situation?” I didn’t want him to have any special skills to draw upon; if he had been an IT expert, for example, that would have made things too easy. He’s a regular guy — observant, cautious, and only occasionally willing to put himself in harm’s way. But his biggest asset is his collaboration with Karen. I like the idea that each of them on their own probably would not have solved the crime.

The book touches on privacy, voyeurism, and identity in the digital age. Were you consciously exploring these themes while writing, or did they emerge naturally?

It wasn’t really a focus of the writing. The whole hook of the story is that the protagonist does not know the real identity of the victim or where the murder took place. That was baked into the opening premise and is inherently intriguing. Given how the story unfolds, it was inevitable that ideas about how our digital identities differ from our real-world ones would emerge, and I leant into that when it felt right. But I don’t think these ideas are particularly revelatory to readers now; we’re all living it and feeling it.

Although she dies in chapter one, Katya emerges as a fully-rounded character in her own right. Was this always the intention?

Well, she actually dies in the title! But yes, I always wanted her to feel like a real person rather than just an inciting incident. From a literary perspective, it’s an interesting challenge, especially as I didn’t want to use flashbacks. Throughout the book, more pieces of her emerge via old recordings, messages, and the way people who knew her talk about her. It makes the impact of the crime all the more potent and adds emotional weight to the narrative. Even though the reader knows she is dead from the outset, I hope that by the end there is a genuine sense of mourning for her.

The investigation unfolds like a real online trail, following small clues and digital breadcrumbs. How did you plan that chain of evidence?

It was all planned out before writing commenced. I think of it like a road from the inciting incident to the resolution. It’s fairly winding, with a few wrong turns and detours along the way. The important work is putting up the signposts — some of which are deliberately misleading. There has to be misdirection, but when the ending arrives it needs to feel earned. The clues must emerge naturally and the solution needs to be complex enough, but not so complex that it becomes implausible. Hopefully I got that balance right.

If you could have readers take away one idea or feeling from Death of a Camgirl, what would it be?

I think the overall tone is bittersweet. Someone dies tragically, yet there is still humour and warmth in the story. On a broader level, I think society treats sex workers poorly — collectively, we’re happy enough for them to be exploited, but then we condemn them, never ourselves for participating. I hope the novel leaves readers with a little more empathy toward sex workers.