Author Archives: Murderati

Occupational Hazards Or, You Might As Well Live

The recent suicide of writer David Foster Wallace sent shock waves through the literary world. In the aftermath, magazines and blogs rushed to do appreciations and retrospectives of his work. (I confess, I’ve never read the book that most considered to be his masterpiece, INFINITE JEST, but his collection of essays, A SUPPOSEDLY FUN THING I’LL NEVER DO AGAIN, is one of my favorites).

What we don’t see in all of the discussion is any clue as to why such a talented writer as David Foster Wallace chose to take himself and that talent out of the world. But perhaps this quote,from a speech Wallace gave in 2005, gives some insight into what was going on in his head:

“Think of the old cliché about the mind being an excellent
servant but a terrible master. This, like many clichés, so lame and
unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible
truth,” he said.

“It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide
with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head. They shoot
the terrible master.

(Actually, I think most shoot themselves in the head because shooting yourself in the leg doesn’t do the job nearly as efficiently. And, ironically enough, Wallace didn’t shoot himself, he hanged himself. So much for consistency).

When asked "why do you write?" I’ve often been known to answer "mental illness." Mostly, it’s a joke. Mostly. I’ve written here before about the links between depression and creativity (and for those of you who are familiar with my personal take on that, don’t worry. I’m fine.)

As writers, we have to go through life with our walls down, so we can see the world around us as it is. We have to be able to see life clearly, the good, the bad, and the ugly, in order to write truthfully about it.

But when you live your life like that, without the shielding people depend on to get through the day, sometimes the bad stuff comes creeping in. Sometimes it comes to stay. Add to that the loneliness and isolation of the creative process, the financial uncertainties, the seemingly random reversals of fortune, and sometimes, despair seems like an occupational hazard. Look at the long list of writers who gave in to it:

Thomas Disch. Sylvia Plath. Yukio Mishima. Virginia Woolf. Ernest Hemingway. Robert E. Howard. Anne Sexton. Iris Chang. Hunter S. Thompson. Even J.K. Rowling, one of the most successful authors on the planet, says she considered taking her own life at one of the low points in her life. And that’s not even counting the ones that tried to commit slow motion suicide with drink and drugs.

And yet….

Some of us seem to weather the madness and keep our heads on straight. Some manage to stay…well,not sane, but at least high-functioning crazy. And while I’ll admit that it’s not a scientific sample, some of the sanest–or, highest functioning crazy– people I know in this business are mystery and thriller writers. Maybe it’s because we don’t take ourselves quite as seriously as the literary types (I recall one multi-genre book festival where a nice literary novelist asked timidly if she could come sit at our table, because the mystery writers seemed to be having the most fun). Maybe the old cliche, like so many cliches, contains the truth: writing is our therapy; we leave the really dark stuff on the page. Or maybe our familiarity with the implements of death makes us realize, as Dorothy Parker did, that

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

So, ‘Rati…what makes the difference for you? What do you do to stay sane?

Assuming for the sake of argument that you do.

With Apologies to Tom Epperson

By Louise Ure

Finding Tom Epperson’s work was a lesson in humility for me.

It was a Saturday morning in early February. The Fault Tree had been on the shelves for a total of three weeks and I was knee-deep in a book tour and signing events. I’d arrived at Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks, California a bit early for the event. With Southern California traffic, you can never tell whether you’ll be an hour early or an hour late for an event so you build in a little cushion.

The ladies at Mysteries to Die For were, as usual, warm and gracious, setting up chairs and a speaker’s area as I strolled the bookstore. One of them – Heidi? Deanna? – approached me at the front table which held all the new arrivals.

“I enjoyed Forcing Amaryllis,” she said, referencing my first novel, “But this one is a really extraordinary debut.”

I swallowed that lump of misplaced pride and took the book she offered me: Tom Epperson’s The Kind One.

In recognition that this lady usually knows exactly what she’s talking about, I bought the book and tucked it into my shoulder bag. At the end of the tour it got unpacked, along with all the other purchased books, the remaining bookmarks, the hotel receipts, and index card notes from the trip and wound up smack dab in the middle of three dusty shelves that call themselves my “to be read” pile.

And there it stayed. From February through early September.

It didn’t exactly call attention to itself. I’d never heard of Epperson. The title – The Kind One – is not one of those that tells you to rip it off the shelf right now. Even the cover design, a sepia-toned photo of a Joshua tree and a 1930’s car – a Packard? — had all the timidity of a recessive gene.

So it took me this long to read it.

…

What was I thinking? How could I have let this masterpiece languish there on the shelf among so many lesser gods?

You say you’ve never heard of Tom Epperson or this book? That’s going to change.

While this is Epperson’s debut novel, he is the skilled and successful screenwriter of One False Move, The Gift, A Family Thing and A Gun, A Car, A Blonde. More importantly, perhaps, he is the longtime neighbor, roommate and partner of Billy Bob Thornton and brings to his work that same raw danger and Malvern, Arkansas-sensibility that Thornton shows on the screen.

You want to see some truth-telling? Check out the author bio he’s written at his website:

And then there’s the book.

The Kind One is the story of Danny Landon, an underling in Bud Seitz’s 1930’s Los Angeles mob. “Two Gun Danny,” they call him, but he has to take their word for it. As the result of some kind of unremembered violence, his memories only stretch back one year.

This is L.A. noir with all the grit, bigotry and misogyny of The Thirties laid bare. Spat-upon Blacks. The butchery of backroom abortion. Unprotected children. Mob boss rule.

And in the middle of it –Candide-like — is Danny Landon, a blank page of a man who doesn’t feel like a killer but doesn’t know why. (By the way, he’s not The Kind One of the title. That’s the mob boss, Seitz.)

The writing is spare and unflinching. The characters, unforgettable.

Robert Crais writes that The Kind One is “a perfect noir novel that is pure and original, with a heavy heart the beats through each page.”

I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t walk away with every debut novel award this year. Maybe even Best Novel.

And now I see that it’s going to be Ridley Scott/Warner Brothers film starring Casey Affleck. I can’t wait. I get to discover it all over again.

So tell me, Rati’, what book was it that stunned you when you finally took it off the shelf? Who would you like to apologize to for not having read it earlier?

color

by Toni McGee Causey

A long while back, there was an interesting interview where Diane Sawyer was speaking to writer Alice Walker about the order in which she perceived herself: was she black first, then a writer? or a writer first, and then black?

Walker responded by saying [paraphrasing here] that she saw herself in the order of: black, then woman, then writer.

There was some discussion wherein Sawyer tried to make the point that she didn’t see Walker in that order. (I believe she saw Walker first as a woman, then writer, then black), and Walker disputed that. Of course Sawyer saw her as black first, Walker stated. And the very fact that Sawyer had even asked the question made Walker’s case for her, unless Sawyer has asked everyone she’s ever interviewed if they saw themselves as black (or white or Hispanic or Italian or… ) first.

Then writer Christopher Paul Curtis was asked about Walker’s statement and asked how he saw himself, and here’s a part of his answer:

A lot of the so called multicultural young adult literature is actually
produced by white writers, and they’ll take on an Asian or an African
American voice for the book, or even more often, a Native American
voice. Now, on the level of a writer, I say that’s fine. You should be
able to write about anything you want to write about. But then, as an
African American, I’m conflicted by it because our story has been
defined by other people for so long that it’s very confusing to have it
told by other people. If everything were equal, it would be fine, but
everything is not equal, and authentic stories by African American
writers, by Native American writers, by Hispanic writers need to be
told by those groups. Then again, there’s a real scarcity of such
writers among those groups.

I’ve seen bookstores where there is a section dedicated to African American literature, but I can’t decide if this is a good thing (there’s specific focus, marketing effort, shelf space) or a bad thing (the sections are rarely in the middle of the store as far as I can tell, and segregate literature away from the mainstream and frankly, I forget to look there and it smacks of the assumption that somehow the African American experience is outside the mainstream). Furthermore, in the few sections I’ve perused, I can’t quite tell the defining characteristic which has a bookseller placing the book there vs. the fiction section, since some writers appear in both (Earnest Gaines, for example).

If a separate section were somehow beneficial to my friends? Then I’m all for it. But I can’t tell if it’s that successful, and I look around at our nation and wonder how on earth are we going to learn about each other if we’re segregating fiction? (I get that it’s a marketing attempt by the bookstores in the same way that labeling something "mystery" or "romance" is also a marketing attempt.)

Is it hubris to think that we can, of course, understand enough about another ethnicity’s challenges to write them accurately, authentically? Last year I was one of the readers among a group which included Clarence Nero, an astounding talent, and he read from his brutal fiction and I thought, you know… I couldn’t have written that. I’m not entirely sure that any amount of research or life experience would have given me the dynamics he drew. I’m not sure if he realized how powerful they were–I still remember his reading months later.

Or is it purely, simply, only a matter of research? Life experience? Is Mr. Curtis’ comment above true? And is the lack of writers from the groups he mentioned a result of an actual lack, or the absence of perceived market? Is ethnicity a niche? Is it beneficial for it to be marketed in that way?

~*~

WINNERS ANNOUNCED: Hey, everyone, go check out Allison’s post for the winners she’s announced for the BOOK GIVEAWAY.

Elements of Act Two (Story Structure, cont.)

by Alexandra Sokoloff

Since Gustav prevented me from teaching my “Screenwriting Tricks” workshop in New Orleans, I’m even more ready to continue the conversation here (plus I know some people out there are waiting for Act Two tips…)

Here’s the Elements of Act One discussion, for those just joining us.

But first – I wasn’t here to respond to Rob Gregory Browne’s excellent comment on that post, so I’d like to start with it. He said:

The one thing I would argue with — and this always gets me into trouble — is character arc.

Most stories take place over a few hours, days, or weeks. Unless you’re writing a sweeping saga, the timeline is very short.

To have a character discover something about herself over such a short period of time — at least to the point where it changes her, is, to my mind, a bit of a stretch.

Generally speaking, people don’t change in a few days, no matter what they’re confronted with. If something major happens, like a death in the family, a mugging, an accident — people are certainly affected by it, but any change they go through would still take months or even years.

Yes, I know we’re talking fiction, and fiction often has a kind of accelerated reality, but I think too many of us put too much emphasis on the idea that your hero has to change in some way.

Does James Bond change? Even in this last, best Bond, Bond went from being a ruthless killing machine to a slightly more ruthless — and pissed off — killing machine. Not much of a change.

Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch has changed, but it has taken several books — and years — for that arc, and it’s still in progress.

Or look at Jack Reacher. To my mind, he is one of the greatest characters in fiction these days — every writer wishes he’d created a Reacher, and readers love him. But change? Not much. In fact, we don’t WANT him to change. Reacher remains the same solid, unflinching nomad throughout the story, and we know that in the end he’s going to save the day, then walk off alone into the sunset.

Now, I’m not suggesting there’s anything WRONG with a nice character arc, I just don’t think it’s a NECESSARY element of fiction.

My two cents, at least.

Well, first, I’d like to disagree that sweeping character change is not possible in a limited time frame. Compression is pretty much the essence of drama, and a great story will present a human being in a crisis, or crucible, that forces great change. That’s one of the main things we seek out in stories, especially standalones, in which you only have that one shot to say EVERYTHING you want to say.

Plus, you know, I’m a drama queen and I need things BIG.

But Rob is right that a lot of classic characters don’t have a huge range of change. So I’d like to restate what I’ve said before about

CHARACTER ARC AND SERIES CHARACTERS

Series hero/ines are a different animal than standalone hero/ines. One theory of this is that readers who are devoted to a series character really want to see the same person, over and over again.

I think it’s a little more complicated than that. I think a lot of classic series characters, especially series detectives – and of course James Bond and his sexier modern incarnation Jack Reacher do spring immediately to mind – are really examples of the “Mysterious Stranger” archetype, and Mysterious Stranger stories have their own story structure. Mary Poppins is the classic Mysterious Stranger; she pops in (get it?), fixes the family, and pops out, while remaining herself “Practically Perfect in Every Way”. SHANE is a great film with a Mysterious Stranger structure, although Shane is a much more wounded Stranger than Mary Poppins – he’s very imperfect, unable to change, and therefore unable to integrate into society in the end – but he does fix the town’s problem and the wound in the family that temporarily takes him in.

James Bond and Jack Reacher are also perfect characters in their ways (although, from a female POV, perfectly infuriating). Rob is right – we don’t want them to change. The trick to the Mysterious Stranger structure is that it’s the OTHER characters who have the big character arcs in the story (although in some Mysterious Stranger stories, the Stranger does have an arc as well. Emma Thompson had some fun with that – as the screenwriter and actress – in the recent film NANNY McPHEE, based on the books by Christianna Brand). And of course not all series detectives are perfect Mysterious Strangers, either – I myself am partial to the flawed ones, like Tess’s surly Jane Rizzoli.

This all goes to emphasize an important point: different genres have very different story structures, and you need to study and understand the classic tricks and expectations of your own genre. That’s why I so adamantly advocate creating your own story structure workbook, as I’ve talked about here:

All right, on to Act Two.

Act Two is summed up by the greats such as, like, you know, Aristotle – as “Rising Tension” or “Progressive Complications”. Or in the classic screenwriting formula: Act One is “Get the Hero Up a Tree”, and Act Two is “Throw Rocks at Him” (and for the impatient out there, like Toni, the end-skipper, I’ll reveal that Act Three is; “Get Him Down.”)

All true enough, but a tad vague for my taste.

So let’s get more specific.

The beginning of the second act of a book or film (30 minutes or thirty script pages into a film, 100 or so pages into a book) – can often be summed up as “Into the Special World” or “Crossing the Threshold”. Dorothy opening the door of her black and white house and stepping into Technicolor Oz one of the most famous and graphic examples… Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole is another. The passageway to the special world might be particularly unique… like the wardrobe in THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE; that between-the-numbers subway platform in the HARRY POTTER series; Alice again, going THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS; the tornado in THE WIZARD OF OZ; the blue pill (or was it the red pill?) in THE MATRIX; or the tesseract in A WRINKLE IN TIME.

This step might come in the first act, or somewhat later in the second act, but it’s generally the end or beginning of a sequence – think of ALIEN (the landing on the planet to investigate the alien ship), STAR WARS, RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC, going out on the ocean in that too-small boat in JAWS, flying down to Cartagena in ROMANCING THE STONE, flying to Rio in NOTORIOUS, stopping at the Bates Motel in PSYCHO. It’s often the beginning of an actual, physical journey in an action movie; in a ghost story it is entering the haunted house (or haunted anything). It’s a huge moment and deserves special weight.

There is often a character who serves the archetypal function of a “threshold guardian” or “guardian at the gate”, who gives the hero/ine trouble or a warning at this moment of entry – it’s a much-used but often powerfully effective suspense technique – always gets the pulse racing just a little faster, which is pretty much the point of suspense. Think of the housekeeper in Shirley Jackson’s THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE – who memorably will not stay in the house “in the night… in the dark…”

I highly recommend Christopher Vogler’s THE WRITER’S JOURNEY and John Truby’s ANATOMY OF STORY for brilliant in-depth discussions on archetypal characters such as the Herald, Mentor, Shapeshifter, Threshold Guardian, and Fool.

Also very early in the second act the Hero/ine must formulate and state the PLAN. We know the hero/ine’s goal by now (or if we don’t, we need to hear it, specifically.). And now we need to know how the hero/ine intends to go about getting that goal. It needs to be spelled out in no uncertain terms. “Dorothy needs to get to the Emerald City to ask the mysterious Wizard of Oz for help getting home”. “Clarice needs to bargain with Lecter to get him to tell her Buffalo Bill’s identity.”

It’s important to note that it’s human nature to expend the least amount of energy to get what we want. So the hero/ine’s plan will change, constantly – as the hero first takes the absolute minimal steps to achieve her or his goal, and that minimal effort inevitably fails. So then, often reluctantly, the hero/ine has to escalate the plan.

Also throughout the second act, the antagonist has his or her own goal, which is in direct conflict or competition with the hero/ine’s goal. We may actually see the forces of evil plotting their plots (John Grisham does this brilliantly in THE FIRM), or we may only see the effect of the antagonist’s plot in the continual thwarting of the hero/ine’s plans. Both techniques are effective.

This continual opposition of the protagonist’s and antagonist’s plans is the main underlying structure of the second act.

(I’m giving that its own line to make sure it sinks in.)

The hero/ine’s plans should almost always be stated (although something might be held back even from the reader/audience, as in THE MALTESE FALCON). The antagonist’s plans might be clearly stated or kept hidden – but the EFFECT of his/her/their plotting should be evident. It’s good storytelling if we, the reader or audience, are able to look back on the story at the end and understand how the hero/ine’s failures actually had to do with the antagonist’s scheming.

Another important storytelling and suspense technique is keeping the hero/ine and antagonist in close proximity. Think of it as a chess game – the players are in a very small, confined space, and always passing within inches of each other, whether or not they’re aware of it. They should cross paths often, even if it’s not until the end until the hero/ine and the audience understand that the antagonist has been there in the shadows all along.

Besides this continual clash of opposing plans, the hero/ine’s allies will be introduced in the second act, if they haven’t already been introduced in Act One.

In fact there is often an entire sequence called “Assembling the Team” which comes early in the second act. The hero has a task and needs a group of specialists to get it done. Action movies, spy movies and caper movies very often have this step and it often lasts a whole sequence. Think of ARMAGEDDON, THE STING, MISSION IMPOSSIBLE (I mean the great TV series, of course), THE DIRTY DOZEN, STAR WARS – and again, THE WIZARD OF OZ. One of the delights of a sequence like this is that you see a bunch of highly skilled pros in top form – or alternately, a bunch of unlikely losers that you root for because they’re so perfectly pathetic. I had fun with this in THE HARROWING – even if you’re not writing an action or caper story, which I definitely wasn’t in that book, if you’ve got an ensemble cast of characters, the techniques of a “Gathering the Team” sequence can be hugely helpful. The inevitable clash of personalities, the constant divaness and one-upmanship, and the reluctant bonding make for some great scenes – it’s a lively and compelling storytelling technique.

There is also often a TRAINING SEQUENCE in the first half of the second act. In a mentor movie, this is a pretty obligatory sequence. Think of KARATE KID, and that priceless Meeting the Mentor/Training sequence that introduces Yoda in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK.

There’s often a SERIES OF TESTS designed by the mentor (look at AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN and SILENCE OF THE LAMBS).

Another inevitable element of the training sequence is PLANTS AND PAYOFFS. For example, we learn that the hero/ine (and/or other members of the team) has a certain weakness in battle. That weakness will naturally have to be tested in the final battle. Yoda continually gets angry with Luke for not trusting the Force… so in his final battle with Vader, Luke’s only chance of survival is putting his entire fate in the hands of the Force he’s not sure he believes in. Lovely moment of transcendence.

Very often in the second act we will see a battle before the final battle in which the hero/ine fails because of this weakness, so the suspense is even greater when s/he goes into the final battle in the third act. An absolutely beautiful example of this is in the film DIRTY DANCING. In rehearsal after rehearsal, Baby can never, ever keep her balance in that flashy dance lift. She and Patrick attempt the lift in an early dance performance, Baby chickens out, and they cover the flub in an endearingly comic way. But in that final performance number she nails the lift, and it’s a great moment for her as a character and for the audience, quite literally uplifting.

Of course you’ll want to weave Plants and Payoffs all through the story… you can often develop these in rewrites, and it’s a good idea to do one read-through just looking for places to plant and payoff. A classic example of a plant is Indy freaking out about the snake on the plane in the first few minutes of RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. The plant is cleverly hidden because we think it’s just a comic moment – this big, bad hero just survived a maze of lethal booby traps and an entire tribe of warriors trying to kill him – and then he wimps out about a little old snake. But the real payoff comes way later when Salla slides the stone slab off the entrance to the tomb and Indy shines the light down into the pit – to reveal a live mass of thousands of coiling snakes. It’s so much later in the film that we’ve completely forgotten that Indy has a pathological fear of snakes – but that’s what makes it all so funny.

I very strongly encourage novelists to start watching movies for Plants and Payoffs. It’s a delicious storytelling trick that filmmakers are particularly aware of and deft at… it’s all a big seductive game to play with your audience, and an audience eats it up.

Other names for this technique are Setup/Reveal or simply FORESHADOWING (which can be a bit different, more subtle). Woody Allen’s latest film, VICKI CRISTINA BARCELONA, does this beautifully with the long buildup to the intro of Maria Lena, the Penelope Cruz character. Penelope completely delivers on her introduction and I think she’s a shoo-in for an Oscar nomination for that one.

The Training Sequence can also involve a “Gathering the Tools” or “Gadget” Sequence. The wild gadgets and makeup were a huge part of the appeal of MISSION IMPOSSIBLE (original) and spoofed to hysterical success in GET SMART (original), and these days, CSI uses the same technique to massive popular effect.

In a love story or romantic comedy the Training Sequence or Tools Sequence is often a Shopping Sequence or a Workout Sequence. The heroine, with the help of a mentor or ally, undergoes a transformation through acquiring the most important of tools – the right clothes and shoes and hair style. It’s worked since Cinderella – whose personal shopper/fairy godmother considerately made house calls.

And the fairy tale version of Gathering the Tools is a really useful structure to look at. Remember all those tales in which the hero or heroine was innocently kind to horrible old hags or helpless animals (or even apple trees), and those creatures and old ladies gave them gifts that turned out to be magical at just the right moment? Plant/Payoff and moral lesson at the same time.

I’d also like to point out that if you happen to have a both a Gathering the Team and a Training sequence in your second act, that can add up to a whole fourth of your story right there! Awesome! You’re halfway through already!

Also in the second act (but maybe not until the second half of the second act) you may be setting a TIME CLOCK or TICKING CLOCK. I talked about this suspense technique here:

And you’ll also want to be continually working the dynamic of HOPE and FEAR – you want to be clear about what your audience/reader hopes for your character and fears for your character, as I talked about in the Elements of Act One.

A screenwriting trick that I strongly encourage novelists to look at is the filmmakers’ habit of STATING the hope/fear/stakes/odds, right out loud. Think of these moments from

JAWS: “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” (Well, yeah, they should have, shouldn’t they?)

SILENCE OF THE LAMBS: “Do NOT tell him anything personal about yourself. Believe me, you don’t want Lecter inside your head.” (And what does Clarice proceed to do?)

ALIEN: “It’s going to eat through the hull!” (When they first cut the alien off John Hurt and its blood sizzles straight through three layers of metal flooring. How do you kill a creature that bleeds acid?)

The writers just had the characters say flat out what we’re supposed to be afraid of. Spell it out. It works.

Okay, this is long enough for one blog so we’ll continue next week, after I say one more thing.

All of the first half of the second act – that’s 30 pages in a script, or about 100 pages (p. 100 to p. 200) in a 400 page book, is leading up to the MIDPOINT. This is one of the most important scenes or sequences in any story – a huge shift in the dynamics of the story. Something huge will be revealed; something goes disastrously wrong; someone close to the hero/ine dies, intensifying her or his commitment (What I call the “Now it’s personal” scene… imagine Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis growling the line), or the whole emotional dynamic between characters changes with what Hollywood calls, “Sex at Sixty” (that’s 60 pages, not sixty years.) And this will often be one of the most memorable visual SETPIECES of the story, just to further drive its importance home.

We’ll pick it up next week – Act Two, Part Two.

But in the meantime – can you give me any great examples of the story structure elements we’ve talked about here?

Does Touring Matter?

JT Ellison

I’m full of questions today.

I’m on the road promoting 14. I had a great launch party and a separate signing at my local independent, Davis Kidd, where I was shocked to find I only knew 1/3 of the crowd. Progress!

And then I left for Colorado. I did a signing at a Barnes & Noble in Lone Tree, Colorado and it went great. It was a meet and greet, not a signing with chairs, etc. I did a bunch of this style signing for ATPG, and found it was quite effective. Usually a minimal amount of effort is required to make a sale — a big smile, a welcoming attitude, and a simple "Do you like thrillers?" and in two hours I hooked twenty new readers who would have never known who I was otherwise, who bought BOTH books. A stellar afternoon, in my mind. Yes, there was the inevitable "Where’s the bathroom?" "I only read non-fiction," stuff, but you have to check your ego at the door when you do an event in this style. It works for me, I can talk to strangers with no problem. I have a couple more of those lined up back home.

I decided to try something different this time around — instead of setting up multiple signings and praying people show up, I flew out to Colorado, made plans to hit Phoenix and Houston. I’ve been doing drive bys, dropping in on stores, meeting booksellers, signing stock. My house set up two "official" drive bys for me this week, with Poisoned Pen and Murder by the Book, and I’ve scattered the rest across the two states. I signed in eight bookstores in Phoenix, five in Denver. Needless to say, I’m already exhausted. I was supposed to go from here to Houston today, but Hurricane Ike changed my plans. I’ll be in Houston the 24th now, but I can’t say the break from traveling isn’t welcome. I’ve got a lot more planned, including a whirlwind few days in one of my favorite towns, Omaha (the food is DIVINE) right before Bouchercon, so a few days of rest is a Good Thing.

I’ve been surprised to find that some independent stores don’t carry my books. (Careful, hubris.) Perfect example, Tattered Cover in Denver chose not to stock 14. I have no idea why. The house has no idea why. Which was a bit of a shock to the system, considering they successfully carried the first book. The house tried to set up a signing, but they weren’t biting. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a flat out refusal, so it stung a bit. And then you try to balance it with, well, I’m in Walmart. But I want to support indies too. I have great events lined up at indies in Nebraska with
Alex Kava, and I’m on the docket because of her kindness in including me. I need to find
more ways to get myself in front of additional independent
booksellers.

Granted, this is only my second book. I have a limited backlist. My series is just beginning. This may all be a moot point in two years. But for now, I’m curious.

So here’s question number one. Outside of your publisher’s efforts, how do you get the independent stores to notice you? I’ve been a vocal supporter of BookSense, which has now morphed into a very cool organization called IndieBound.org. I have independents on my website, and we’ve always had links here at Murderati. I accept and seek out their Facebook and MySpace sites. Yet I’m nowhere on the radar for many of these folks? And please don’t misunderstand, this isn’t an indictment, but a serious question. What am I doing wrong? I want to support the independents, but I’d like to have some support in return. And I’m a little bit worried that I can be ordered online from their websites but they don’t have any books on the shelves. We’re supposed to be helping sustain the brick and mortar stores, right?

Here’s question number two. Does ANY of this really matter? I like meeting readers. I’ve enjoyed meeting the booksellers (aside from the one who accused me of bringing my books into the store. I had to prove to her that no, they came off her shelf. She was busy, I was trying to help. THAT backfired. So no more of me retrieving my own book. You learn…) Across the board, the chains have had plenty of my book in stock, on coop, etc. But does a signed paperback really entice a new reader? Will that green sticker make them jump and say — oh, must get this, the author SIGNED it. I simply don’t know. I won’t see any numbers for a couple of weeks so I have no idea if it’s making any kind of impact or not.

That’s one of the major problems with publishing, I think. There aren’t any quantifiable numbers unless you’re on the lists, and there’s a ton of super successful authors who aren’t. God knows following your Amazon ranking isn’t the way to judge your reach. Calling Ingram to get your sales figures doesn’t give you the whole picture; they’re a fraction of the actual number. So an author works in a vacuum for a few weeks, hoping what they do promotion wise makes a difference.

And the experience for a hardcover author is different than for a mmpb author. I’m assuming this is part of the problem with the indies. We don’t get the kind of attention hardcovers do. Which sometimes makes me feel like a spoiled child who’s stamping her foot and saying "LOOK AT ME," but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. It’s always lovely to have the attention of the community, to get reviewed, to get interviews. It’s a nice ego stroke to have that kind of affirmation, even if it’s not the most stellar review. But is it just that, an ego stroke, or does it raise awareness and sell more books???

With all of this in mind, I decided earlier this year that I was going to skip both touring for JUDAS KISS, coming out in January, and the conference circuit in 2009. I have one that I may do, because it happens to be an hour from my parents, but for the most part, I’m hitting a couple of regional literary festivals, and that’s it. I need a break. I have two books due next year, and I need to focus on making sure I’m writing the very best books I possibly can. So this 6 weeks of excursions is my last hurrah for a while.

I’ll tell you, I don’t know if I’m making a massive mistake or if it will prove to be the smartest thing I’ve done career-wise. We’ll find out soon enough, I suspect.

So tell me, what do you think really works? Signings? Drive bys? Traveling on your own dime? Sitting at home and working on your next book? Working the Internet, the social networking sites, the listserves? Conferences? Literary Festivals (I personally find the literary festivals exceedingly rewarding.)

I’d love to hear from all sides on this one. Booksellers, do you want us coming by? Readers, will a signed sticker make or break a buying decision for you? Writers, do you find one aspect of the mix works better than the other?

Wine of the Week: 2004 Bodegas Lan Rioja

Our prayers are with you, Texas.

When a Dream is No Longer Just a Dream

By Brett Battles

The Dream.

The Dream is to write and only write. Not to have to do something else to pay for the roof over your head. Not to have to answer to some boss who’s constantly checking to see if you’re in on time or if you took a long lunch. Not to have to pull yourself out of bed every weekday morning, join the rush hour traffic to get to your cubical so you can work 8 or 9 or 10 hours a day then go home to sleep so you can do it all again the next day.

That’s the dream. That’s my dream anyway. A dream I’ve had since I was in sixth grade. Seriously. I think it would be fair to say it’s the dream of most writers, though, admittedly, not all. I know a few who love their day jobs, and have no intention of every leaving them.

Me…I can’t wait to get out.

But there are a lot of considerations that need to be made before someone takes the leap. Sure, maybe you have a contract that gives you enough cash that you can live and write full time. It might not be live-in-grandeur style money, but enough to pay the rent and buy your food. But the question then is…for how long? You see, that money you just got might be the most you’ll receive at one time for the rest of your career. (I sure as hell hope not and don’t wish that on anyone, but it needs to be said.) If it is, would it be better to sock it in the bank and continue working the two jobs…your day job and your author job? How can you know?

And then there are the added expenses. There’s those pesky estimated tax payments you need to make that cut into the lump sum you thought you got. There’s the fact that now you have to pay for your own insurance. And all those freebies you got at the office? The paper clips? The pens? The free copies? All gone.

Yes. There’s a lot to think about when you make “the” decision. It’s a decision I had to make this summer. And for me, it took all of perhaps one nano second to make up my mind.

Five and a half weeks ago, I told my bosses that I was retiring from television.

That’s right. I’ve chosen the life of fulltime novelist. Yet because I have a great job and work with people I don’t just consider my colleagues, but also my friends, I gave a seven week notice. That’s right…I was VERY generous. The good thing is that that notice will be up a week from tomorrow. So the next time I blog here, I will no longer have the 9 to 6 desk job I’ve been at for the last 6 years…hell, perhaps they were at different places, but the last 19 really.

I intend to take my new fulltime job very seriously. I’ve already started planning out my schedule and my goals. You see, I have a responsibility to make sure that this leap I’m taking isn’t only for a limited amount of time, but rather forever. I think the possibly of going back to a corporate job should be more than enough to keep me focused.

But I can’t lie. I am so excited about the new freedom I’ll now have to do things whenever I want to do them. I’m thrilled at the idea of being able to spend more than an hour or two a day at most writing, and now stop only when I feel done for the day. I cannot wait to be able to focus totally on the story I’m working on, to not be forced out of my train of thought because I have to go to work.

Taking this step is a huge risk. I know. But it’s time.

So this is my last post before I retire from television. It’s been a wonderful career. It has taken me places, exposed me to new things, and introduced me to people who have become friends I’ll have for the rest of my life. It has given me the safety net I needed to foster and grow my writing abilities, and to keep me afloat until I was ready to jump. Though I doubt any of the people I work with now will be reading this…I just want to say thank you.

Oh, and another bonus that comes with my new found freedom…an ability to be more active here at Murderati. My colleagues have been more than patient with my less than stellar involvement, and I plan to make up for that now. Well, not now…in a week and a half.

When I’m free.

When I’m a fulltime writer.

_______________

Song for the day (Let’s make that for the next week or two): BEAUTIFUL DAY by U2

And for those who missed my good friend Rob’s post from yesterday, scroll down and check it out. It’s excellent.

No Offense Intended

by Rob

I’m concerned.

It seems to me that it’s getting harder and harder for us to say what’s on our minds, these days. If we get even the slightest bit controversial, we’re told to keep quiet because someone might get upset. If we speak in shades of blue and green rather than stark black and white, we risk being attacked by those who are colorblind.

A politician makes a nuanced and valid point and his words are distorted and he’s jumped on for going too far. The outrage is as phony as the people who make the charge, of course, but the drums start beating anyway, and before you know it, he’s tarred and feathered by the press.

This has been going on for quite awhile now. I see evidence of it everywhere. People afraid to speak up about how they feel. Holding back because they don’t want to risk offending anyone. Or being branded a troublemaker. Or losing their jobs.

A woman in the workplace can’t mutter a swear word for fear that some co-worker might overhear her and turn her into the boss. And even a hint of sexual innuendo is immediate cause for firing.

A man can’t wear a certain declarative T-shirt in public because he might become a target of harassment.

It’s as if we’re all being conditioned to be afraid of our own shadows. We’re taught to be good and polite and inoffensive, because good and polite and inoffensive people get rewards. Like food on the table. Cars to drive. TVs to watch.

As authors, we debate about the language we use. Is it too strong? Should we tone it down? Make our books more palatable? We avoid any obvious political or religious statements because we’re afraid we’ll lose half our readers. And half our income.

Recently, a bestselling author wrote a book featuring his series character and, according to the reviews on Amazon, went a little too far this time out. The author dared to give his character a point of view — one that didn’t sit well with some of his readers — and the Amazon reviewers went nuts, telling the author to keep his politics out of his books. How dare he ruin their favorite hero by making him utter such tripe?

But really, folks, are we that shallow? Can we not recognize that EVERYONE has differing points of view about many different things, and simply learn to live with it without going ballistic? Especially when it comes to fiction.

Must authors and musicians and artists strive for the lowest common denominator? Strike the blandest note they can, in order to try to make everyone happy?

I don’t think so. We’re all adults here. Why on earth can’t we act like it? Why must we allow the emotionally stunted, the colorblind and the brain dead to dictate to us what we can and can’t say? Why must we tiptoe around them for fear that they’ll somehow steal our lives away?

To my mind, if we allow them to control us, then our lives are already gone.

In the words of Howard Beale, "I’m mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take it anymore."

And maybe you shouldn’t either.

No offense intended, of course.

How many books do you have in you?

by Tess Gerritsen

Today, my new Jane Rizzoli thriller, THE KEEPSAKE, goes on sale.

It’s my twenty-first published novel. You’d think that after going through this twenty-one times, the publication of a new book would feel routine to me now. But no, watching a new book hit the stands is every bit as exciting and scary as it’s always been. I find myself doing the same obsessive things I did with my last five books. I check my Amazon index every hour, thereby guaranteeing lithium-league mood swings. I Google myself several times a day, looking for new reviews. I slip into bookstores unannounced to see if the books have arrived, and where they’re displayed. Every Wednesday evening (when the New York Times bestseller list is announced) I wait by the phone, hands sweating. I know this behavior is unhealthy. I know that obsessing won’t make the books sell faster. I know that this is wasted effort and it’s sapping my energy.

I wonder how many more years I’ll be doing this, and how many more books I’ll write before I kick the bucket.

It’s a morbid question, but every writer has probably asked it: What will my obituary say about my writing career? "Prolific author of fifty bestsellers"? or: "Was working on her second novel"? Life itself is full of too many variables, so you just don’t know. You could get hit by a truck tomorrow, ending your budding career at age thirty. Or you could keep on turning out a book a year until you’re ninety nine and you finally get that Mystery Writers of America award, if only because you’re the oldest guy in the room.

Or (and this is one of my nightmares) you’ll find the quality of your work slowly deteriorating as you endure ever-crueler reviews, until suddenly it’s announced that you’re suffering from Alzheimers. And suddenly everyone is nice to you again.

A baby girl is born with only so many eggs in her ovaries. That’s it, that’s all she gets. Throughout her lifetime, she will not make any new eggs. Once she grows into womanhood and reaches menopause, all her eggs are used up, and her childbearing days are over. She simply cannot produce any more babies.

Do authors have a similar limit? Is there such a thing as artistic menopause? Is there a point in life when a writer finally sets down his pen and says, "That’s it. All my ideas are used up. I have no more books left inside me"?

I know I haven’t reached that point yet, because I can still feel those future books lined up in my imagination, like eggs waiting their turn to gestate. But I also know that I’m not a prolific writer like Isaac Asimov or Georges Simenon or Nora Roberts, who together have written enough books to fill a library. I’m capable of writing, at most, one book a year. If I keep up that schedule of one book a year, until the demographics predict I’ll keel over from old age, I could theoretically produce another thirty books.

Thirty more books to write! So far I’ve only written a measly twenty-one. Which means I haven’t yet reached the halfway point in my lifetime oeuvre.

Egads, I’d better get back to work.

Many unhappy returns

by Pari

What business do you know that lends brand new items to the seller and allows those items to be shipped back, anytime, often in lousy shape? What business do you know that wants many of those items to be defaced prior to being shipped back?

Welcome to the wonderful world of book returns.

Amid all the conversations about book sales, the publishing industry, finding the right agent, we don’t hear much about returns. I think I know why. It’s a crappy system no one understands fully and NO ONE seems to know how to fix.

A little history:
Back during the Great Depression, publishers sought a way to get booksellers to continue buying books and to try new authors. So, someone (maybe one of you readers can give me the name) came up with the idea of offering more books without risk. If something didn’t sell, it could be returned for credit — no questions asked.

Back then, I think the model worked well for everyone because
1. There wasn’t the volume of books published today (and that’s an issue that deserves more than one post).
2. Though illiteracy may have been higher, I suspect many more people per capita turned to books and reading for their entertainment and information gathering.

Flash forward to today. The book return system aggravates just about everyone.

For authors
It can be good for new authors because bookstores can "taste" new works without worrying about being saddled with clunkers. However, any traditionally published author is never going to know how sales are going . . . not really. A book can be returned months after publication, sometimes even years. Publishers often hold back a portion of royalties against this possibility. Sales may look magnificent at the beginning of a book’s life because bookstores will order in large quantities. And then poof! Three quarters end up getting returned or, if they’re mass market paperbacks — they’ll be stripped (it’s heartbreaking, really).

For Bookstores
You’d think bookstores would adore this arrangement; after all it was created for them. But with the ever increasing number of titles, it’s impossible to predict what will and won’t sell. Over the years, publishers have changed their return policies and bookstores need manuals to meet their specifications. Some stores now only deal with wholesalers because of this (and other reasons of course. . . that’s another post if I can ever get enough info on it).

Even if everything is totally hunky-dorey with the system, returning books is still labor intensive — there’s packing, labeling, removing stickers (autographed copy! discount!) and keeping track of this revolving inventory. That’s why people like Steve Riggio of Barnes and Noble are calling for a major revamp of the system.

For publishers
It seems obvious why they’d dislike the system, doesn’t it? So why the hesitation to change? When HarperCollins announced a new imprint that would be return-less, many people screamed. What would happen to new authors? What would happen to the booksellers’ freedom to have a broad inventory? EEEEEEEE!!!!

Wholesalers/Distributors
I don’t know how they feel about the system. Their existence depends on variety and making life easier for bookstores, but in my research for this piece, I didn’t find anything specific on the subject. If I do, believe me, I’ll write more.

So, what to do?

* Authors could write fewer books. Uh hunh. (I can just hear the response to that suggestion: "We’ll do that when we get paid more.")
* Booksellers could stop over-ordering AND/OR commit to selling what they order. But how would they decide? What would be best for their customers and also great for the business bottom line?
* Publishers could stop publishing as many books AND they could commit more marketing dollars to the ones they do produce. Has anyone ever seen that happen?

I don’t know what the answers are, or if there are answers. Far greater minds have tackled these questions. I found two interesting articles on the subject here and here.

Right now, I think it’s important to talk about returns and changing the system.

What do you think? Booksellers? Publishers(editors)? Writers? Readers?

Is there anything we can do to transform a dinosaur into a dragonfly?

_______________________________________________________________

Next Monday, Roberta Isleib takes the reins for a guest visit. Please join me in welcoming her.

Fish Out Of Water

By Allison Brennan

I’ll admit, I’m nervous to be here. Okay, we’ll say terrified.

I’ve been a regular visitor and fan of Murderati for a couple years. I met JT, Rob, Brett and Toni at Thrillerfest in 2006 and we hung out. We were in Arizona and there was something about that first ITW conference that was intoxicating. Not just the drinks, but the atmosphere. I mean where else could a newly published author like myself walk into a bar and see Lee Child hanging out? Or share a ride with the classy and smart and talented Tess Gerritsen? I felt out of my element. I wasn’t a real thriller writer, after all. I write romantic suspense. A little sex, a little violence, and the guarantee that my hero and heroine are going to survive and be together at the end of the book.

I felt far more comfortable with the Killer Year gang–the soon-to-be-published thriller writers of 2007. Sure, I had three books out in 2006, but they didn’t really count as three because they came out bang-bang-bang in consecutive months. It was *like* having just one book release.

Today, I feel just like I did two years ago when I stepped into the Arizona Biltmore Hotel. A bit in awe, shocked I’m here, happy as a clam, and feeling a bit unworthy. (Four cliches in one sentence! How about that.)

I rarely write anything profound. Occasionally, I can turn a phrase and impress myself, but usually I write how I talk–too long with lots of tangents. One thing I love about writing novels over short stories is that I have 100,000 words to play with. I can throw out all these threads and have plenty of time to tie them together. When I write short, it’s painful. Agonizing. My high school American History teacher gave me an “A-” on my final essay because I, “So eloquently said in ten pages what could easily have been said in five.”

The other bloggers here at Murderati have backgrounds that are professional, interesting or fun. Doctors, attorneys, executives, business owners. They’re smart, profound, and probably read all those intelligent literary books that make them even smarter and more profound. They care about the words, what they mean, and how they look and sound together. They anguish over making a sentence just right, to leave just the right image in the reader’s mind. Don’t try to deny it, I’ve read your blog posts, I know this about you.

I envy you. Sure, I get excited when I come up with something that sounds so good I can’t believe I wrote it. Those are the sentences that usually get deleted during revisions. I recently had one of those, “Wow, I can’t believe I wrote that” moments.

Okay, tangent time . . . I don’t plot. Ever. Even when I think I know where the story is going, it doesn’t go there. For example, I just finished writing SUDDEN DEATH (4/09). About two weeks before I was done, my editor needed a synopsis for the two books that follow it (for sales, art and the copy editors.) They had to know what the books were about so they could write cover copy. (Okay, tangent again — I wrote a synopsis for SD before I wrote the book because they needed it . . . I didn’t expect the cover copy so soon, and I sort of forgot to tell my editor that the story wasn’t what I said it would be. The cover copy sounded terrific–except I hadn’t written that book. We fixed it.) Anyway, back to the first tangent . . . I still had 100 or so pages to write for SUDDEN DEATH and I wrote a new synop and figured I knew how the book was going to end, I was so close to the climax, right? I finished the book Thursday. It didn’t end anything like I thought it would. You can see that writing a synopsis is paralyzing for me because NEVER has a book turned out remotely like the synopsis.

I wrote a brief synopsis (about 3 paragraphs each) for FATAL SECRETS and CUTTING EDGE, books 2 and 3 of my FBI trilogy. Immediately, I knew book 2 wasn’t going to work. The characters were wrong, the premise was great–but the story would be boring. I could see it. I put myself to sleep just thinking about it. And then woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat fearing I was stuck writing a boring book. So I emailed my editor and said, um, don’t send FS to copy because I’m not going to write that book. It doesn’t work.

But I’m getting excited about book 3 because already I can see all the possible threads and potential outcomes. Within the short synopsis I laid out I can go in infinite directions. I like my characters, they’ve walked right in and made themselves at home. I see them. My villain creeps me out, always a good sign. The story doesn’t have to go the way I think it might, because the set-up works. I have many paths my characters can choose.

My “wow” moment came Thursday when my editor sent me the draft back cover copy. I read it and loved it. I wanted to read the book! Well, first I have to write it, but still, I couldn’t believe they extracted that cool story out of my pathetic synopsis. The copy is going to be hard to live up to.

I get thrilled very easily. I lead a very boring life. When you get excited about touring the morgue or going to the gun range to shoot guns you can’t buy in California (but it was okay, because they were cops letting us shoot them–I wasn’t breaking any laws, so please don’t turn me in. Okay, I did break one law last week when I talked on my cell phone not using the hands free device that I hate, but the kids were in the car and the story I was hearing was not fit for their ears . . . )

So, anyway, I’m rather simple. You probably won’t get any brilliant commentary from my blog posts or find me as crafty as Alex or laugh-out-loud funny as Toni or as poignant as Pari. I love wine like JT, but for me it’s either, “This is really good” or “This is crap.” I often start talking about one thing, and end on a completely different note . . . for example, I originally planned to introduce myself here on Murderati with a post about why I love to write romantic suspense. I even talked out my blog while driving home after dropping the kids off at school Friday morning. You can see from my opening, where I mention I write romantic suspense, that I did intend to come back to that at some point. But this is already running long and — wait!! I now have a blog topic next time. Woo hoo, I’m already ahead of the game. 🙂 And I didn’t even plan it.

I thought I would share a couple facts about me you may or may not know:

** I have five kids. (Yes, I know where babies come from and how they are made.)

** I’m a college drop-out. UC Santa Cruz. Yes, our mascot was the banana slug. . . . okay, stop laughing. Seriously. It’s not that funny. It’s actually quite weird and disturbing. But . . . I suppose I saw this fate in my future. When I was 10, a columnist for the San Mateo Times, John Horgan (who was my uncle’s college roommate,) wrote a column titled, “Allison and the Banana Slug.” Yeah, I was THAT Allison. The rest is history. Please rewrite it.

** I love video games. It’s sad. I’m going to be 39 this month.

** I wrote a gushing fan letter to Stephen King when I was 13 and he wrote me back.

** When I was a kid, I wanted to be a forensic pathologist. Why? Because Quincy was my favorite tv show. (Yes, I know it’s not realistic. There was never any blood.) When I did my morgue tour last year and observed an autopsy, I realized that I wasn’t as squeamish as I thought. Maybe I should have pursued that career path . . . naw.

In light of my virgin post here at Murderati, I’m going to give away some books. Why not, right? And I’m being perfectly selfish in my gift-giving. The last book of my prison break trilogy comes out at the end of the month. I want to suck you in with the first two books so you’ll run out and buy PLAYING DEAD on September 30th. See, I’m really not a nice person . . . just ask my fourteen year old daughter who thinks I’m evil, don’t care, don’t understand, and just plain mean because I won’t let her date until she’s 16. And sometimes I think it’s odd that my agent has to preface any conversation about me with, “Allison is really very nice, honest . . . “

To win, all you have to do is comment. And maybe tell us one thing we don’t know about you. I’ll randomly pick five winners over the course of the week and ask Toni (please!) to post them next Sunday.

Thanks, gang, for having me. I’m truly honored to be here.