Author Archives: Murderati Members


Why I don’t like New Years Resolutions

By Allison Brennan

I never make New Years Resolutions or goals or promises.

The primary reason is unattainability–most goals or set too low or too high. If you set a goal too low and achieve it, could you have done more or better if you’d set it higher? Or not set one at all? Essentially, you have an excuse to be lazy because subconsciously you know you’ll meet your resolution and won’t push yourself.

If you set a goal too high, you’ll feel like a failure if you don’t achieve it. 

Some goals are simply not attainable, like, “I will sell a book/find an agent this year.” Selling a book is almost completely out of the author’s hands. You can write the book, vow to send out 100 queries to agents, but ultimately you have no control over whether someone offers you a contract or not.

I have enough stress in my life that I don’t need to heap on more worry in the form of a list of goals or a New Years Resolution. I know me, and I’ll glance at that list and either 1) know I’ll be able to do it, but procrastinate; or 2) know the goals are virtually impossible and stress over them.

My good friend Roxanne St. Claire loves setting goals. She calls herself a “goal junkie” and if you, too, love goals, read Rocki’s article from last year at Murder She Writes. And she offers great advice on how and why to set goals. For example, her first point:

A goal is not a dream. It is attainable solely by your own hands and it is in your control. Getting an editor to buy your manuscript or readers to buy your book aren’t goals, no matter how much they feel like they are. Submitting your manuscript to a specific number of editors or finishing back to back books in your fantastic series are goals.

But I still can’t do it. I even have problems writing a to-do list for a single day. People tell me that when they cross things off their to-do list that they feel productive or happy. Not me. If I had on a list, “Write ten pages today” and I wrote ten pages and crossed it off, I’d think, “Would I have written more if I’d listed more on my to-do list?” I can’t even plot out a scene let alone a whole book–and maybe lists make me think I’m plotting out my life. It gives me the willies just to think about it.

Some people thrive on lists and goals. More power to them. I’m not one. They drive me batty.

What about you? Like or hate lists? Like or hate to make New Years Resolutions? 

 

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT . . . 

Saw HOLMES last weekend. FABULOUS movie. I loved it. Well worth the $10 (or, for me, $30.75 because of my two teenagers, plus $19.50 for popcorn and drinks . . . )

 

Fandango sent me a list of their Top 10 2010 most anticipated movies:

1. Ironman II. 

Saw the trailer. It looks a little darker than the first (which was pretty dark) but I’ll probably see it. My son wants to because he loved the first one. He’ll be 9 when it comes out. I really like Robert Downey, Jr. HOLMES solidified him as one of my favorites.

2. Alice in Wonderland

I keep going back and forth on this one. I love Johnny Depp. Hated the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Like Burton, but don’t know if I can put aside watching the original Alice and adapt to the non-cartoon version.

3. Tron: Legacy

When the original Tron came out, I loved it. But that was 1982 and I was 13. I’m sure with the computer graphics of today and the special effects, it will be fantastic on screen, but sometimes movies like this forsake the story for the effects. It’s on my list to see.

4. A-Team

Um, unless someone I know and trust gives it a major must-see thumbs up, nope.

5. Twilight: Eclipse

No. But my daughter will probably see it twice.

6. Clash of the Titans

Saw the preview at HOLMES. Will most likely see.

7. Robin Hood

Russell Crowe seems well cast and I loved him in Gladiator. Will probably see.

8. Toy Story 3

Andy goes to college! He leaves Buzz, Woody and the rest of the gang in a day care center. Tops my list of must-see movies. I can hardly wait! I might even bring the kids . . . 

9. Inception

A-list actors but . . . not sure about this one. Again, will wait for review from friends.

10. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I

I haven’t seen the others, but my two old kids have. Doubt I’ll go.

 

What about you? Looking forward to any of these? 


BIG NEWS: Launched new website over the weekend. Love it. Still tweaking and adding content.

Ballantine created a widget for my new book in two sizes. I’ve never had one before. It’s kinda cool. 

New Year. THANK GOD.

by Alexandra Sokoloff

Ah, a New Year.   Thank God, is all I can say.

There’s a great line from Bridget Jones’ Diary, the book, which I always re-read around this time of year, that I would quote here verbatim if I had the book with me, which I don’t, as you will understand in a minute, so I’ll sum up: she is ranting about now unfair it is of – whoever – that just as we’ve all gotten used to putting whatever we feel like in our mouths for a month straight we’re suddenly expected to resume work and perfect discipline as if the whole past month’s debauch never happened.   

Well, I agree. 

Furthermore, I know I am not the only writer in this community who feels I am so off track with my writing after the holidays that I have no idea how to get back on, so I just thought I’d out myself on that subject right away in case anyone else can relate.

I have such a hard time with the week between Christmas and New Year’s in general that this week I impulsively – and perhaps ill-advisedly, given that it’s WINTER – decided to drive across the country with two cats and my Southern California wardrobe, just to have something to keep my mind off this end of the year panic.  

Well, it was a little more complicated than that, but still – when in doubt, road trip, is what I say.

Of course, being from Southern California, I still have no real concept of winter, so when I found myself driving in SNOW with two really angry cats screaming at me from the back seat, I started to reconsider the plan.   By then of course I was too far along to go back, so, well, anyway, I was snowed in for a day somewhere in Arizona, but we got out of it okay enough.  Even without this thing you apparently are supposed to have for snow, called chains.   I mean, tire chains.  Where do they come up with these things?

So I spent my New Year’s Eve in a hotel in Albuquerque, doing galley corrections.   (Did I mention that I got galleys two days before Christmas?   Due just after New Year’s?  That seems to be when they show up, as I know others here can attest).

Look, there are worse things, and I’m not really complaining.   I have two books coming out this year.   I have to remember that.   And it IS the New Year, now, or really Monday it will be, because this weekend is just strange.  

But despite the fact that I wouldn’t really recommend driving anywhere  (much less across the entire country in winter) with two cats unless there’s no other way around it, I feel a lot better being on the road.   There’s nothing else to do but drive and space out, enforced meditation, and then I did my galleys in the hotels at night, and movement just feels like – movement.  Which I needed.

It occurred to me on the drive portion of today (gorgeous) – that my malaise had a lot to do with the fact that I am at the exact same place in BOTH books that I am in the process of writing.  That would be – in the first draft, my least favorite part of the writing process, and in the third quarter of each draft – usually my least favorite part of any book or script.   So no wonder I freaked out and thought it would be a good idea to drive across the country in winter.  I would have done just about anything to get away, and that was the first semi-justifiable thing that came to mind.

But I got my galleys done (finding someplace to mail them in is another story), there was no snow today, and the road trip is having the intended effect of vacuuming out my brain, which it sorely needed after the last year (don’t ask…), and now I can focus in the afternoons on teaching my online Screenwriting Tricks For Authors class, and teaching always makes me remember why I write.   I can’t very well coax a class into keeping going on that $#%^&*!  first draft without talking myself into it as well.

So okay, this all might be a strange way to start off the year, but it IS a new year, and we all have a chance to start fresh.  And I don’t know about you all, but man, do I need that.

That was my week.  

How was yours?

– Alex

 

 

Thank You 2009 For….

by Brett Battles

 

…another great year with my kids

…the good health of my family

…marking the passing of my grandfather…at nearly 98, he lived a long and great life, so this is said in complete sincerity.

…my friends

…all the old friends I’d lost track of over the years and have reconnected with via the internet.

…my career

For everything, really….the good and the bad as it all helps to shape us into who were are.

 

Some requests for 2010….

 

A smooth transition as my son moves from junior high to high school (hard enough for regular kids, extra stressful for one with Down Syndrome.)

A smooth transition for my oldest daughter from sixth grade to junior high…and a wish that she’ll finally gain a love of reading.

And for my youngest daughter who does have a love of reading, a deepening of that.

As the economic improves, an improvement in book sales across the board

And, in general, happiness and health for all.

 

And, finally, big thank you not to 2009, but to all the Murderati gang, contributors and readers alike, for another wonderful year.

Enjoy the weekend, be safe, then let’s do it all again in 2010!



Contest and conversation continues . . .

Hi all,

Don’t forget we’re on semi-hiatus here at Murderati this week, but not all of us are gone. So if you respond to any of our posts — or questions further down in the blog — one of us will surely respond. Also, by playing with us, you’re eligible to win one book from each of the ‘Rati authors.

That’s 14 fab reads.

Whether you join us or not, know that we wish you a wonderful, wonderful New Year.

why spouses and book tours don’t mix

by Tess Gerritsen

I believe it was the great Nora Roberts who once said: “You don’t take someone you love on book tour.” I was reminded of this quote when my husband and I had a, shall we say, spirited conversation about this topic.  He asked whether it would make my life just a little easier if he came along on my next book tour abroad.  “Don’t you want me there to carry your bags?  To share the experience and provide companionship?  Wouldn’t it make the tour a lot more fun?”

I committed one of those cardinal sins in a marriage.  I told the truth and said: “No.”

What followed was a very tense half hour as I tried to soothe his hurt feelings while explaining why I really did mean “no.”  Because what Nora Roberts said is the absolute truth.  You don’t take someone you love on book tour with you.

I’m sure there are non-writing spouses out there who think this is a terrible reflection on my marriage.  That it must mean I don’t love my husband, or we don’t get along, or we don’t like spending time together.  That’s the furthest thing from the truth.  When I travel on vacation, there’s no one I’d rather be with than my husband.  We have the same interests, love the same foods, share the same daily rhythms.

But a book tour is not a vacation. And to illustrate that point, let me describe a typical book tour schedule abroad — and where the spouse would fit in.

— After overnight flight, you arrive jet-lagged and exhausted. If you’re lucky, you get a few hours’ sleep, then it’s up for work that first evening with media interviews, cocktails with publisher, maybe even a bookstore event.  Spouse tries to participate, but without the same adrenalin you’ve got going, fades out early and vanishes off to bed.  Is sound asleep by the time you stumble back up to the room.

— The next day, time to pack up and move on to the next town.  More travel followed by more media, more bookstore events, into the evening.  Spouse is tired and dragging.  You are in “work mode” so you manage to soldier on, forcing yourself to smile, to be charming, to shake countless hands.  Lots of attention is showered on you by readers and publishing people.  Spouse feels neglected.  By the time you finally crawl into bed, you are close to collapse.  Have to spend the next sleepless hour making spouse feel better about being ignored.

— Ditto the next day, and the next, and the next.  Except that spouse is getting angrier and angrier.  Feeling like you’re not paying attention to the most important person in your life.  Meanwhile, media and publicist and bookstore folks are completely focused on you, you, you.  Spouse is standing in back of bookstore with steam coming out of ears.

— By day five, the pace is killing you. You feel the flu coming on.  Your feet hurt.  Your smile muscles hurt.  You’re trying to focus on the questions the radio host is asking you, but you’re preoccupied with your spouse, who is now giving you the silent treatment.  When you finally get back to your hotel late at night, you want to take a long hot bath and relax in complete silence.  Spouse knocks on door to have one of those deep talks about why you’re being so self-centered.

— By day seven, it’s time to board the airplane home.  Spouse has not seen any wonderful tourist sites, but instead has spent the whole seven days in bookstores, hotel lobbies, cars, train stations, and airports.  You, the media star, the celebrated author, are in the doghouse. Neither one of you has had any fun whatsoever.

Lest you think I exaggerate, a publicist told me of one author who went through something just like this while on book tour.  The author made the mistake of bringing along his rather high-maintenance wife. Instead of focusing on what he should have been doing — plugging his book and networking with publishing executives — he expended much mental energy desperately trying to soothe his wife’s tender feelings.  Nevertheless she packed up her bags halfway through the trip and flounced home in a rage while he was still struggling through that grueling book tour.  Yeah, I’m sure that did wonders for his focus. 

A book tour is not fun and games.  It’s hard work.  It’s physically and emotionally exhausting.  If you’re an introvert (as are so many writers) you need your rare downtime to be  alone, to rest and re-charge.  Then there’s the, er, practical considerations.  Hotel rooms have only one bathroom.  With all the rushing around and irregular hours and frequent travel, you will get a limited time to use that toilet.  With two people fighting for it.

For you non-writers, imagine it this way.  Imagine you work in a law practice or hospital or any other busy setting.  Imagine you’re at work while your spouse is sitting in a chair by your desk, waiting for you to pay attention to him while you rush around between clients or patients. Imagine how hard it is to focus on your job while spouse is sighing deeply beside you.

Yep, that’s what it’s like.

There are, however, certain spouses who probably do fine on book tour.  These are people who are happily independent, who are delighted to do their own thing while you work.  At every new stop, you wave goodbye to each other, and while you head off to promote the book, she’s off to the museum and lunch and shopping.  Only at night do you meet up back at the hotel.  No recriminations, no whining, no feelings of being neglected. That sort of spouse, I can see bringing along.

Otherwise?  Leave the beloved husband or wife at home.  Trust me, you’ll both be happier for it.  

 

Contest, Conversations continued with Pari

Hey all. You know the scoop. We’re on semi-hiatus this week. So . . . the contest continues. Anyone who answers some of the questions or comments on our posts is eligible to win 14 books (yep, count ’em) from the ‘Rati.

I’ll answer a few questions before asking my own:

From Darlene:  What would you do if you if you weren’t a writer?
Boy, that’s a toughie. I can’t even imagine life without writing; I’ve been doing it since I was five or so. But I think I’d take all the mental and physical time I devote to it and become active in the sustainable agriculture/slow food movement. Food is so fundamental and we’re really shooting ourselves in the foot – and endangering future generations – with our current policies such as the one that allows this.

What genre do you secretly want to try writing?
Right now I’m writing a mainstream novel. That’s a new experience for me. I’m also planning to try my hand at fantasy and at least one YA next year. I have to admit I’m curious about romance; I like happy endings.

What’s your secret trashy, must-watch TV show?
I’ve recently discovered Chopped and Iron Chef. Oh, man. I LOVE both of those shows. 

From JT: What are you reading?
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende. I’m loving the lush quality of her writing.

From Toni: What was the very best day of your life? (Aside from significant others/ marriages and births of children.)
A fall day at the sculpture garden at Shidoni in New Mexico. I was with a good friend. We had a bottle of superb Amarone wine, sharp Italian cheeses, crusty bread and hard salami. We swigged the wine out of the bottle and used a pocket knife to cut the food. The sky glistened in a stunning blue and the sun was hot on our skins. Then, out of nowhere, came a rainstorm to cool us down. And there really was a brilliant rainbow during and after the storm.

Pretty much bliss on earth.

3) If you could go anywhere, right now, obligation-free, without stress, etc., where would you go?
I think I’d go to Italy and eat. Then I’d hop a plane to Ireland and drink. Then I’d go down to Brazil and dance it all off.

From Sylvia: What animal do you fear the most? (Must have experience and not just fantasy)
Orangutans. I was attacked by one in Hong Kong. It didn’t catch me, but I was absolutely terrified and tremble when I see them in zoos now.

As an author, what question are you asked the most that you refuse to answer or deflect the answer?
In addition to what the other ‘Rati have said, I have a really hard time with “Who is your favorite author?” because that’s always shifting.

What 10 questions do you most want to know about your readers, or us, the commenters?

I’ll add a few to the mix:

What’s your favorite board game?

What’s your favorite word?

Do make New Year’s resolutions? If so, can you tell us one?

Are you good at telling jokes? (Tell us one.)

What’s your favorite holiday food?

What’s one outrageous thing you’d like to do before you’re too old to do it?

What’s the most audacious thing you’ve ever done?

Which fictional character would you like to spend a day with . . . and why?

If you had a magic wand for a day, what would you do with it?

Is there anything you want to know specifically from me today? I’m around and can answer questions . . .

 

Go With The Snow

by Zoë Sharp

 

I admit it – I’m a sucker for snow. I know it’s causing horrendous problems elsewhere in the world, and I’m not trying to make light of that in any way, but we don’t often see such extremes of weather (until lately) over here in the UK. And despite living a thousand feet up in the Cumbrian fells, we haven’t had that much of it over the past few winters. We’ve only been actually snowed in a couple of times since we moved here, but it’s not often we get a proper White Christmas.

 

Oh, boy, do we have one of those this year.

 

And it’s brought out the big kid in me, I can tell you – time for snowman building. So, with my copyedits dutifully delivered, on time, I thought I’d sneak an afternoon off to make up for a weekend of working until 3am, and we built a snowman.

 

But not the conventional kind.

 

For some reason, a head from Easter Island popped into mine, and this was our first creation. Of course, it would have been better if I’d actually gone and looked at some pictures of a real Easter Island head before we started, but it has a certain rough charm, even so.

 

 

And then, what else but a polar bear? And again – I should have looked at some pictures instead of doing it from memory. His ears are wrong. (Probably a lot else, too, but it’s the ears that bug me.)

 

 

We’ve had more snow overnight, the proper sticky stuff that makes for great snowball fights and even better snowman building. So, when I’ve done my blog and worked on my latest chapter, we may just be venturing out with a shovel to do another.

 

Of course, some people don’t quite get into the Christmas spirit when it comes to building snowmen.

 

 

Others go for grandeur.

 

 

And yet others for quantity.

 

 

Whereas other people just have a fine sense of the ridiculous.

 

 

Or are just plain inventive with their designs …

 

 

…or their locations.

 

 

Or just plain inventive, full stop.

 

 

And if you want to see something absolutely beautiful when it comes to things sculpted from snow and ice, you need to check out the Ice and Snow Festival held every winter in the city of Harbin, in north-eastern China. I just love the coloured lights set into the ice, so at night the whole thing shifts to another level. Definitely on my Must See list.

 

Words fail me at the skill and dedication that’s gone into these massive and detailed works of ice art, but have a look for yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the really amazing thing is that this is all so transient. When the ice melts, all that’s left are photographs and memories. Is creating something and then taking a photograph of it before it disappears, enough to satisfy the creative desire?

 

We may mutter sometimes that our work goes out of print and becomes difficult to obtain, but compared to sculpting in ice or snow, it’s infinitely long-lasting.

 

So, I suppose what I’m trying to say is, if you have that creative urge, do it for the joy of it, not the effect. Do it in the full knowledge that it may be gone tomorrow, and do it anyway.

 

Do it while you still can.

 

This week’s Word of the Week is omophagia, meaning the eating of raw flesh, especially as a religious observance, from the Greek omos raw, and phagein to eat. But I wouldn’t be tempted to try this with your Christmas turkey if I were you …

 

Happy Holidays, ‘Rati, and I wish you health, luck, and happiness in 2010!

Hallelujah, Everybody Say Cheese

by J.D. Rhoades

It’s Christmas Eve Eve, as we sometimes say.  I’ve got to tell you, the motivation to do anything useful has fallen off drastically for me, the closer I get to the 25th. I’m ready for a few days off. Hell, I’ve been ready for a few days off since I came back from Thanksgiving. So rather than ruminations on writing, marketing, life,  the universe, or everything, I offer you a few laughs for the holidays.

By now, you’ve probably seen dozens of those YouTube videos of insanely complex Christmas light displays. And everyone by now has heard of the popular video game Guitar Hero. Well, according to this blog, “former Disney Special Effects Guru Ric Turner” has combined the two concepts: 

Using a Nintendo Wii and few high tech lighting controllers from Light-O-rama, Ric has rigged up his very own neighbor-terrorizing, virtual guitar challenge: Christmas Light Hero.

Check it out:

 I think it’s worth it just to see the grin on the kid’s face.

From the sublime to the…well, kind of disturbing, here’s Euro-disco-sensation  Gunther, with the Ding Dong Song (somewhat NSFW):

Pray to the Baby Jesus that that’s meant to be a joke.

Speaking of things that were meant to be a joke, this Kansas City Homeowner:

 

 

Had his heart in the right place when he hung up this “display” of a decorating mishap. (No, it’s not real). But he soon discovered that it might have been a little too realistic:

I would hear screech after screech in front of my house from people slamming on the brakes or quickly turning into my driveway and, many times, into my yard. I really needed to take him down as I’m sure there would have been wrecks…a 55 year old lady grabbed the 75 pound ladder, almost killed herself by putting it against the house and didn’t realize it was fake until she climbed to the top (she was not happy).

As Murderati’s Resident Redneck, I of  course,  have to share with you my favorite Christmas song, Robert Earl Keen’s “Merry Christmas From the Family.”

Happy Holidays Y’all!

 

 

 

 

Dear Blank

 

 

By Louise Ure

 

They all start the same way. “Dear” and then a blank space with my name written in, in a nun-taught cursive style I haven’t seen since my parochial school days. What’s up with that? Even Nancy Pelosi has figured out how to send me a group letter with my name included in the typed salutation. But, no. I get Dear Blank, or worse, Dear Friends, as if we are too numerous and homogenous to bother remembering our individual identities.

Their popularity has waxed and waned over the years, but they never entirely go away. The Dreaded Christmas Letters.

Most of the ones I receive are from hometown and high school friends. Only three come from fellow writers. But even the writers seem to forget all the basic rules of social communication and good storytelling in their oeuvres.

My oldest Christmas Letter-correspondent’s annual missive reads like a travelogue. “We spent April in Siena (I dream of that pasta sometimes!) and May with the folks at Big Bear Lake so we sure needed that getaway for just the two of us at the house in Cabo to recuperate.” Feh. Does she even consider that some of us haven’t left our zip code for the last nine months?

If they have kids, no feat or skill is too small to mention. Little Scottie learned to read by his first birthday and he’s the darling of his pre-kindergarten soccer team. Cassidy might have scored 749 on the SATs, but if not, her ballet teacher’s comment that “she’s the next Maria Tallchief!” will feature prominently. The ne’er-do-well 26-year old who still lives with his parents and thought a job at McDonald’s was beneath him is “acting as the DJ at local parties and wowing the girls with his bright blue eyes.” I hope he gets crabs.

Then there are the organ recitals. “Myrna’s blood count continues read like an IQ score.” “Tom threw his back out in May and I swear, between the heat packs and muscle relaxants, we’re keeping Walgreens in business!” When they start to describe bowel movements, I quit.

Then there are the … what shall I call them … the creative types. The ones who have rewritten The Night Before Christmas to include the names of all their children and pets and have somehow managed to get the husband’s promotion at B of A to scan into the proper meter as well. The ones who rhyme quatrains divided by what they did each month.

And the pictures! Have you ever seen a more toothsome group? I swear, every one of my Christmas Letter pals is related to a dentist.

Once, just one, I’d like to get a Christmas letter that reflected the reality of life. Or even a Christmas letter that included one of the following sentences:

 

  • “Maggie dipped a toe into the world of heroin this year … not a lot, you understand, just experimenting … but the police didn’t see it that way.”

 

  • “Fido had a litter of seven puppies we couldn’t find homes for and the cat got hit chasing a car. Isn’t life supposed to go the other way around?”

 

  • “We were so proud to see Jake turn sixteen and get his driver’s license. And the new Prius we bought after Jake crashed the old Chevy gets much better mileage. I’ll bet we’re saving $200 a month, if you don’t include the new car payments.”

 

  • “Who knew you couldn’t stuff a cold turkey with hot dressing? Fortunately, my mother-in-law was the only one whose food poisoning required overnight hospitalization.”

 

  • “We took our vacation at my folks house this year. Well, not so much vacation as we moved in there. Please note the new address on the envelope! I never realized how nice their basement was when I was growing up. Back then we just thought of it as a place to store old furniture.”

 

It’s not that I wish bad news on my friends; I just want their Christmas Letters to sound like non-fiction instead of fantasy. And I want to feel like my life is maybe not so removed from the norm out there.

Tell you what. Next year don’t bother writing my name in by hand. Just leave it Dear Blank. That’s closer to how I’m usually feeling as the end of the year rolls around anyway.

Or better yet, send me one of those notes like Tim Robbins left under the wall for Morgan Freeman in Shawshank Redemption: “Louise, if you’re reading this note then I know you made it through the year. I’ve done what I told you I’d do; I made it to that town I dreamed about. Pack up Bruce and the dog and come join me. I’ll have the margaritas waiting.”

Merry Christmas to you all! And here’s my Christmas present to all the writers here: Charles Dickens’ handwritten revisions to A Christmas Carol. It’s so nice to see that even he had the never-ending revision bug.

 

P.S. Don’t believe the snarky, Grinch-like tone of this post. I ‘m looking forward to a quiet, peaceful and loving Christmas season and hope the same for all of you, even the Christmas Letter-writers.

 

 


 

 

2009 Favorites on Screen (Big and Small)

My friends over at Crimespree Magazine* recently asked me to compile a list of favorite TV shows and films of 2009, whether current to the year or viewed on DVD.  My number of visits to the theater this year was in the single digits, and some were wasted on duds like Men Who Stare at Goats (waste of George Clooney) and 2012 (waste of John Cusack), so the list is dominated by TV shows. 

Nevertheless, I thought I’d share an expanded list here in the hopes of learning about your favorites as well.  Maybe my list will change after I finally see The Hurt Locker, Inglorious Basterds, An Education, Zombieland, and all the other films I missed, but here’s where the tally stands today.

Dexter – In the event you’re still catching up on DVD, DVR, hulu, or on-demand,** I won’t spoil the fun by mentioning the scene that pushed this to the ultra tippy top of my list, but John Lithgow was deliciously, disturbingly evil, and the show’s writers have proven they will take risks to ensure that every season surprises and surpasses. 

Up ­ – As much as I’ve loved other animated features, this is the first one that made me laugh, sob, and wish (and momentarily believe) that the chubby little cubscout was a real, live boy so I could adopt him. Extra points for bringing back the wonderful Ed Asner.

Up in the Air – ­ It’s pure coincidence that my two favorite films of the year both involve the word Up. This is the kind of movie they just don’t make any more: good, solid, simple grown-up story telling. George Clooney has never seemed so real. (Can I adopt him, too, but in a different way?)

30 Rock – ­ I cherish my twenty-four-ish minutes each week with the folks at TGS. Tina Fey recently told Entertainment Weekly that, other than her choice to have a child, asking Alec Baldwin to take the role of Jack Donaghy was her best decision. I’ve never met her daughter, but I have to think she’s at best at close second. Incidentally, I want to adopt Tina Fey, too, to be my BFF.  In my dreams, we write a TV pilot together.  “Want to go to there.”

Glee – The dry humor of Jane Lynch and the earnestness of high school chorus geeks, wrapped together in one big snarky, happy bundle. It’s as if the TV gods came together to create a show specifically for me.  I love the show so much I based my criminal law students’ final exam on a heist pulled off by Mr. Shuester, Rachel, Flnn & Quinn.  Poor Sue Sylvester perished after taking a hit to the noggin with a Cheerios trophy.  Now if only the actual show could incorporate a mystery arc.

Battlestar Galactica ­ – I was slow to come to this series because I still tell myself I don’t like sci-fi. Well, if loving this is wrong, I don’t want to be right. We watched the entire series in a matter of months and
now wish we could lobotomize the BSG-parts of our brains so we could experience it all over again.  (Special shout-out to friend and author Lisa Unger for finally getting me on the BSG train.)

The Hangover – I must have a sixteen-year-old boy hiding among my multiple Sybil-esque personalities, because I swear I could not stop laughing when I saw this movie.  Granted, I can no longer remember why I was giggling so incessantly, but I also can’t remember why I had so much fun on that one spring break, but I’m nevertheless convinced I enjoyed myself.

The Shield – The series finale was simultaneously shocking and unflinchingly human.  This show consistently proved how well the medium of television can explore character.  Never seen it?  You don’t know what you’re missing.  Start with Season 1 on DVD.

Fantastic Mr. Fox – This was the most creative work I’ve seen in a long time.  The adaptation of the classic books to a contemporary film, the visual choices, the familiar Wes Anderson vibe in a new medium: I loved it all.  Added bonus: Another win in the George Clooney column (officially getting him out of my mental doghouse for that horrible Goats movie).

Lost – Polar bears, time travel, numerology, the mystical Jacob?  It really is enough to make even a writer’s head hurt.  But that image of Juliet peering up at Sawyer, managing to say, “I love you, James.  I love you so much,” was enough to remind even the craftiest, puzzle-solving viewer that the secrets of the island don’t ultimately matter.  The show is about people.  (Check out the video from 2:42 if you have any doubts.) 

Tie: Modern Family or Community.  Too soon to tell here, but I’m cautiously optimistic that one of these two new sit-coms will eventually fill the gaping hole left in my comedic existence since the demise of the sublime Arrested Development.

There you go, just in time for some last-minute DVD purchases for the holidays.  

So, come on, let me have it:  What did I miss? 

*Crimespree is the Entertainment Weekly of the crime fiction scene.  If you’re a ‘Rati reader, you’ll probably love it.  Find out more here.

** When did we start living in the future?