Ian Rankin: My week

Maybe Keith Richards has the right idea. When the Rolling Stones are on tour, he personalises each hotel room he stays in, draping scarves over lampshades and suchlike. I'm currently on a book tour in the US – 15 cities in 19 days – but didn't have space in my luggage for those scarves. I'm trying to do the whole trip with hand baggage only – a backpack and a carrier-bag – in an attempt to circumvent the long queues at check-in. Six days in, however, I'm considering the need for a larger hold-all. I can't resist buying presents for my children. I always think I can buy a padded bag and post the stuff back. But, as yet, I haven't seen a single stationery shop, never mind a post office.

This is the curse of touring – you never actually see anything. If I'm lucky, I may be allotted an "author escort" to drive me between engagements. It happened in Chicago, which gave me the chance to view Ernest Hemingway's childhood home and some Frank Lloyd Wright architecture. OK, the car never stopped, but it did slow down a few times. Mostly, however, I'm left to my own devices, and the device I most often employ is the remote on my hotel-room television. I'm a great believer that you can learn a lot about a country from its TV programmes.

In the US the news channels concentrate on Iraq. They call it "the countdown to war", as if stating an inevitability. Not everyone agrees. In the immediate aftermath of 9/11, the US brought out the flags and "These colors don't run" bumper stickers. The mood right now is different. People plant "No to war" placards on their front lawn. They wear badges: for the first time since flower power, the peace symbol is cool again.

The mood at most airports is relaxed: security has been stepped up, but still appears less obtrusive than in the UK. The people who attend my readings have plenty of questions about Scotland and my books – one man even asked if I might use the recent land reforms as a future storyline – but almost no one feels the need to discuss the invasion that CNN seems to be promising them. They worry for Tony Blair's popularity at home, but there's little sense of grievance concerning French and German reluctance to sanction attacks. The mood is actually jokey.

My hotels tend to be on the periphery of the city, and many of the cities have no real centres worth exploring on foot. After a day of travel, and an evening event at a bookshop, mostly I just feel like vegging out in my room, then I start to feel guilty. Most writers, after all, can only aspire to this level of fêting, to stay in deluxe hotels where Justin Timberlake glides past on his way to his limo. So much of the writer's life these days revolves around marketing and promotion. At the same time, few people become writers because they are gregarious. Writing is how we best communicate with the world. Meeting your public can be daunting. One reader tells me he has a friend in Auchtermuchty – maybe I know her? Another asks, "What is your favourite word?" I meet expatriate Scots and retired cops. One person invites me home for tea.

It's often salutary to find out what readers like about your books ... and what they don't like. One fan says my plotting is too intricate to be easily followed. She's thankful for the new book, which includes a list of characters and a note on the policing system in Scotland. I come to appreciate that the words "Detective Chief Superintendent" can confuse an American, and that Siobhan (Rebus's sidekick) has a name most people cannot pronounce.

On such a trip, a long book is a useful companion. I've got Bleak House with me. It's great stuff, but includes a short essay on Dickens's life, reminding me that he died young, partly due to the strain of doing so many public readings, many of them in the US. Which is why I should perhaps choose Keith Richards as my role model. Next time, I'll pack those scarves.

Ian Rankin's latest novel is 'Resurrection Men', the 13th of his Inspector Rebus series