Author Archives: Murderati


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Elaine Flinn

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer,
The slings
and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And
by opposing end them?

Damn, but that ole’ Will had a way with words.  And what, pray tell, is Elaine Flinn doing
here on Friday – taking J.T. Ellison’s day on Murderati?

Well, I’ll tell you. I’m here because J.T. and my terrific blog mates have asked me to
address a problem that has sprung up recently – and that is the volley of ‘slings
and arrows’ aimed at the award judges for International Thriller Writers on a
popular blog.

The target for these arrows is the judges themselves (we
were all named) and the short-list of honorees that have been designated as the
best from their respective committees. To be blunt – and have you ever known me not to be? – NO WOMEN.

No women. And why,
they fervently lament, is that? Were
the judges biased? Are they
bigots? Do the judges think women can’t
write a thriller good enough to make the short-list? If you think I’m making this up – think again. All these ‘arrows’ were shot off
clearly. But, they missed the mark. And I mean they were way off.

And let’s get one other thing out of the way – I’m not here
to disparage anyone’s right to complain – it’s a healthy human trait – and
thank God we live in a society where we can do so – and that includes
Mystery/Thrillerville. But to even
suggest any of us were gender biased, or bigots – is unfounded, insulting our
integrity, and patently childish.

But the real raison
d’etre for this post is to address the dilemma facing those asked to a serve as a judge for an award. It
goes without saying it is a daunting task. In fact, it’s much like being asked for jury duty – to sit and decided
the fate of another.

And being a judge for a literary/mystery/thriller award is
not much different. Besides the fact
that you are bombarded with books, (often several dozen to even hundreds) which
you must read and not ‘skim’ – you have your own writing to do, or maybe you’ve
got a slew of signings to travel to – or maybe (if you’re one of the lucky
ones) – a publisher paid book tour. Oh,
and then there is your family, your life, your leisure. It’s gone baby, gone. It’s gone, because you have pledged to honor
a commitment that can often make fabulous giant steps for someone-other than
yourself –and their career. Throughout
this process, you will spend much time e-mailing back and forth with your
fellow (not being sexist here) committee members. You will be discussing the merits of a certain book, wondering if
a particular book really fits into your category, telling your chair you
haven’t received a book on the monthly update, discovering a submission was
published in another country prior to the year for which you are judging. Oh, there are many more reasons for
communication – but I don’t want to bore you.

So, is it any wonder – that after months of honoring your
commitment – for being flattered to have been considered qualified, objective
and NOT gender biased to judge your peers – that it’s damn hard to find
yourself a sitting target from those who have no idea what being a judge
entails? I’m still amazed, even after
being an Edgar judge a couple of years ago – that this post is even necessary.

Guess you know now why it’s so hard to find someone who is
willing to be a judge. Who the hell
wants to spend all that time, questioning and double questioning your decision,
set aside a well written book that simply doesn’t meet the criteria set out by
your organization, wonder if you’re going to be vilified because of gender
cries, hope to hell you won’t get raked over the coals because the books you
and your committee choose won’t be popular choices?

See, here’s the thing: a book is judged by certain standards. Not that it’s a big seller, not that the author is one of your
favorites, not that the author is a friend, not that the author gave you a
blurb for one of your own books, not that the author missed out on another
award you felt he or she should have won – but BECAUSE the book meets the
standards you’ve been asked to use. Which is basically excellence of execution. In the case of ITW, it had to be a thriller. Now, that didn’t mean it couldn’t be a
medical thriller, or a legal thriller, or a P.I. thriller, or a cop
thriller. It had to THRILL.

Oh, there’s another subject I want to add – and that is –
all judges were asked to voluntarily sign a confidentiality agreement. This agreement bound us not discuss any
aspect of the judging process – communications, decisions, comments,
deliberations, disagreements – and so on. Sadly, one of the ITW judges apparently ignored that pledge, and that –
besides the gender/bigotry charges – created the firestorm that is hopefully on
the way to being extinguished.

I’m not going to offer you the percentages of books
submitted by women, or how damn hard it was to even get them in. I’m not going to tell you about the hours
Jim Rollins – our awards Chief – or the other judges, including myself, spent
tracking down editors, agents, publicists and writers to get their books
in. Gayle Lynds, ITW’s co-president,
has written a wonderful letter detailing all the specifics – and you’ll find it
on several blogs.

But do you want to know what I’m really ticked off
about? Only a small handful of posters
on that popular blog (after I offered my comments) realized the one thing they
should be complaining about – was missed. And that was the lack of ethics of the judge who broke the
confidentiality pledge and blabbed about the ultimate decisions being
‘sexist’. To me, that is more important
than whether or not a woman was short-listed or not. I mean, if your word means nothing – then what the hell are you? And guess what? They still didn’t get it.

So now I guess you’re wondering if I’ll ever be an award
judge again, huh? Especially after the
Edgar brouhaha I was involved with – and now this?

Okay – here’s my answer. YES. And it should be yours too
– if you’re ever asked.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

I had a post all ready for today… okay, no I didn’t. I had nothing. I’ve been too consumed with my own crap lately to worry about you ‘Ratians. Or is it ‘Rati-ites?

I’m no fun right now. I have "Writer Face" as we used to call it at Judging Amy. I have a lot of junk on my mind, and 96% of it is writing related. But it’s all getting jumbled, convoluted. So, instead of posting some salty, crusty whiny writer thing here, I thought I would dust off one of my more positive posts from INK SLINGER.

See, a long time ago I used to have a weblog of my own. Then I stopped. Sink hole, baby. During Ink Slinger’s brief life, it had a small, but loyal (read: slacker) following, and one of the more popular posts I made was one Sunday morning – this was in the fall of 2005 – when I awoke early, went for a walk, and remembered why it’s so freaking great to be a writer. Here it is, in its original entirety (did I just write "original entirety"??? God, I do have Writer Face).

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Woke up at 5am. 2 days of rain was finally gone but everything was still wet.

I haven’t been up before the sun in a while. Let me qualify – up and outside before the sun. I’ve had plenty of up-before-the-sun moments with small children.

So, I’m walking through my wet neighborhood. And it looks different. Everything looks different just before dawn. Better. I head about a quarter mile south, to a wooded area with a railroad line running through it. Start walking along the tracks watching the eastern sky turn from gray to bronze to orchid and finally blue. Sky blue.

I hear birds singing and think, they really are singing. As if they’re just happy to be birds, I guess. Or happy for the day. I think about my iPod back at the house, realize I’m glad I don’t have it.

I see deer. Three, grazing up on a hill above the tracks. They stop and we all just look at each other for a moment.

I keep going. There’s a ton of stuff running through my mind – my pilot (plot possibilities, character arcs, tone, does the production designer get it, the way it needs to be shot, asking Dweezil to do the music); my book (character, underlying theme, is it really a book?); the short story for Dave and Bryon and whether it sucks; this P.I. I met whose career might make a cool series; another TV series idea I have; and a short story idea that suddenly pops into my head almost fully realized.

And yet, with all that, my mind feels more clear than it has in weeks. Everything is clear and in order. I seamlessly roll from one thought to the next, sometimes one idea giving aide to another. I don’t lose track, don’t get confused. I’m not trying. I’m not forcing it. Just letting it all come to me. The Flow as I’ve called it. I don’t even pull out the pen and pad I always have when I leave my house.

I start heading back west. My Hamilton chronograph says I’ve been out over an hour. Feels like ten minutes. I think about how lucky we are to be writers.

Whether you’re having to struggle through a "day job" that you hate, writing late at night or whenever you can find time, or whether you’re making a fat living off your words, or whether you’re somewhere in between, thank God or Buddha or L. Ron or whatever for smiling down and turning your heart and soul into that of a writer. We’ve been around almost as long as whores and shepherds. And we’ll be here till the very end. By then we may be writing… God knows what we’ll be writing by then, but we’ll be doing it and loving it. And probably still not getting paid enough.

I wanted to get this down in the Bog before I open my WORD doc and go. I love this feeling – just before you begin, when you know it’s going to be one of those great days, where it’s pouring out of you. The Flow.

I imagine it’s like an athlete – just before the gun sounds or the match begins – when they just know that today is going to be one of those days because they’re in the zone, doing whatever it is as fast, as strong or as best they can.

I love writing. I love it when it sucks as much as when I think I’m freaking Steinbeck. As much when it’s not coming as when it’s flowing. I am very, very lucky to do this for a living. Sometimes, especially on the blogosphere, we get so caught up in the business of it. And so much negative shit is written – PODs and vanity presses; "instructors" who have no idea what they’re talking about; who blogged about whom; poseurs; critics; agents; whatever – that we forget.

It’s nice to have Sunday mornings to remind me.

/Guyot

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Denise Dietz

                                               QUIBBLES & BITS

I have an editing service called STRAY CAT PRODUCTIONS. You’ll find a link on my website. I don’t advertise — 95% of my clients are word-of-mouth referrals. The other 5% kind of stumble into my site.

TWO "FUNNY" EDITING STORIES:

A woman said she wanted me to edit her husband’s "adventure novel." But she would NOT pay me more than $100 because … are you ready? … her husband had used spell-check.

More on spell-check later.

An arrogant attorney [is that redundant?] wanted me to ghost-write his legal thriller. "The concept is better than anything John Grisham ever wrote," he bragged. Rather than paying me for my ghosting, he’d pay me 50% of the royalties [hee!] When I tactfully turned him down—without telling him that Grisham had already "borrowed" his plot concept—he became agitated. A Hollywood producer was about to sign on the dotted line, he told me, and there were "dozens of writers" who’d gladly ghost his book. Well, shoot. Obviously, I’d let a golden opportunity slip through my fingers.

I get way too many editing requests from people who can’t write. I’m being brutally honest here. I told my husband Gordon that it’s like American Idol. During the [endless] auditions, there are kids who can’t carry a note in a bucket. But in a heartwrenching way (at least to me), they honestly believe they can sing. Because they can’t hear themselves. Furthermore, their best bud, mother, sister, boyfriend/girlfriend told them they were terrific.

If a query begins: "My best bud [mother, sister, boyfriend/girlfriend] says my book is the best thing they ever seen, better then gone with the wind even," it’s a red flag.

Recently Jason Printer wrote a brilliant, tongue planted firmly in cheek blog called: 20 Surefire Tips To Get Your Book Published. In it he suggested the following: "Call every editor in the publishing industry and tell them to publish your book. If they refuse, call again five minutes later. If they still refuse, send a dead animal to their office. You’ll have a deal before the janitorial staff disposes of the carcass."

Some of the blog comments were ALMOST as funny as Jason’s blog. Here’s the comment I posted:

"The dead cat didn’t work for me. The phone feedback — as far as I could tell, since the editor’s bloodcurdling screams predominated — was that dead cats are a no-no for crime fiction fans. Go figure! Next time I’ll try an armadillo."

In a more serious vein, I’m now going to give you a half dozen incredibly relevant submission tips:

1]  An editor will NOT read your brilliant first chapter, get hooked, and say, "I don’t care how many typos and formatting problems this manuscript has, I’m buying it!"

2] An editor is NOT paid to correct your typos, grammar, formatting, and POV goofs. This might gobsmack you, but it’s easier to turn the book down.

3] Spell-check will NOT do your work for you. When the first line of a manuscript reads: "Hot tears ran down her checks," there’s a problem [unless she’s paying her bills on a slant]. And while your high school English teacher might have allowed you to spell phonetically, 99 out of 100 editors won’t.

4]  "That" and "who" do NOT mean the same thing. An editor has pet peeves, just like anyone else. Mine is "that" for "who" [or whom]. I also wish writers would learn the difference between its and it’s.  And If you tell me she dropped her eyes, I am not amused.

5]  Changing your 12-pt Times New Roman to … oh, say 22-pt Broadway Bold … to emphasize the letters on a sign, or the words in a ransom note, will NOT impress an editor (that Stephen King guy can get away with it, but you’d better wait until you’re earning his paycheck). An illustration for a chapter heading — or even worse, cover art — submitted with your manuscript won’t impress an editor, either. A non-pub was puzzled by that advice. "But it makes me stand out from the pack," he said. "Yep," I replied. "It sure does. It brands you AMATEUR."

6]  And last but not least, do NOT write XXX or ??? for information you plan to look up later. Or if you do, look up the information before you submit. I tend to use yada-yada, but if I forget to fill it in, I’ll always find it when … are you ready? … this is the most important piece of advice in today’s blog … here it comes … WHEN I PROOF MY BOOK BEFORE SUBMISSION.

Yep, I proof my manuscript, even if it’s better than gone with the wind and my best bud tells me Yada-Yada [working title] is neater than sliced bread and hip-hop dancing put together.

And, of course, I read it out loud — to my dog Pandora. She’s a good listener, most of the time. But she runs and hides [and sometimes howls at the top of her doggy lungs] when an American Idol wannabe sounds too "pitchy."

Quote of the week:
"I got stung actually pretty bad across my back. There’s sort of a remedy that we’ve all heard … urine. It’s the remedy if you have a bad sting. So I asked Dylan if he would pee-pee on my back. He looked at me like he’d gone to heaven. He was like ‘This is what I call a good summer holiday! Pee-pee on daddy’s back!’ I don’t know if it helped at all, but my son was happy. We’ll work it out in 20 years when he’s in therapy!" Michael Dougas. [Dylan is five.]

EYE OF NEWT’s Davy St. Charles hopes last week’s buried bean remedy removed any unwanted warts. This week Aunt Lillian has a Household Hint for you:

"Ants are said to never cross a chalk line. So if you have ants, get your chalk out and draw a line on the floor, or wherever your ants tend to march — and see for yourself."

Over and Out,
Deni

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INTO EACH LIFE SOME RAIN MUST FALL.

In Julia Spencer-Fleming’s life – it’s pouring awards, accolades, starred reviews, legions of adoring fans clammoring for more, and book sales to make us all green with envy.  But then – Julia has given us four books that have touched us.  Yes, there is murder, yes there is mayhem, but there is faith as well.  Is it any wonder she has won an Agatha, Anthony, Barry, Macavity, Dilys – and was short-listed for an Edgar, Nero Wolfe, Gumshoe and a Romantic Times?  And did you know that her debut book – IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER won more awards than any first mystery novel? EVER?

I was thrilled to receive an ARC for Julia’s latest – ALL MORTAL FLESH – and while I loved all of her books, I was especially touched by this one.  You’ve heard this before – and felt it  yourself, I know – but I didn’t want it to end.  Oh, and this just in – ALL MORTAL FLESH already received starred reviews from Kirkus, Publishers Weekly and Library Journal!  Talk about a trifecta! 

Here’s Julia:  Oh – me too.

EE:  I was told by someone close to you that you can’t write unelss you’re listening to Cajun music.  Uh, Cajun music in Maine??

JSF:  It’s true I can’t dance unless I’m listening to Cajun music.  It takes a mighty musical force to break the entrenched non-rythmic ways of my people, the Espiscopalians.

Oh, you poor dears.  But then – my people ain’t very rythmic either.  But we’re good with Latin chants and guilt.

EE:  Living in Maine must be bleak in the midwinter, where is your favorite retreat?  And what do you do there besides conjuring your next best seller?

JSF:  My favorite retreat is the Leeward side of Oahu, where I slather myself with SPF 500 sunscreen and sit on the beach watching my children frolic in the warm waters of the Pacific.  Alas, that oppportunity rarely presents itself, so my second favorite retreat is the Salmon Falls Library, where I write while my children frolic at home, completely out of earshot.

I hope you don’t venture out to Lualualei Beach though-da kine beach pilikia!  Mo betta you go Pokai Beach, yeah?

EE:  Ah, now that I know you have the aina of Hawaii in your soul, surely you must have a wonderfully romantic Walter Mitty Dream.  30,000 words or less will suffice.  And please keep it clean.  I mean, it’s best not to get the clergy in an uproar.

JSF:  "Spencer-Fleming jammed her hand in the rock’s vertical crack, ignoring the gasps from the climbers belaying behind her. ‘Don’t do it!’ Kuiper, the Swiss, whispered. ‘Hush, man’, Spencer-Fleming said cooly.  ‘You’ll frighten the others.  Up and over is the only way off this mountain.’  ‘But this ascent has never been done!’  The taut, muscular climber ignored him and proceeded to pick her path across the almost-featureless rock wall.  Above them, the rotors of the rescue helicopter that was waiting for them turned with a lazy ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa.  Spencer-Fleming swung up, grasped the final outcropping, and chinned herself over the top, to the cheers of the stranded climbers.  ‘We’re saved!’  Welles, the Englishman, shouted.  In a moment, Spencer-Fleming’s face reappeared over the edge. ‘The pilot’s unconscious from altitude sickness,’ she said grimly.  ‘I’m going to have to fly us out of here.’  She hammered in the belaying pins…

‘Mom? Mom?’

‘Huh? What, sweetie?’

‘Are you going to get that can off the shelf or just stand around on that chair all night long?’

Holy Moly!  You had my hands sweating there for a minute!  I was all ready for some starlight night, gentle swaying palms, the soft sounds of the surf…

EE:  Okay, Julia!  Let’s get serious, okay?  Word on the street is that there is an underground movement among female Episcopalian priests to move to small villages and find their own Russ Van Alstyne.  And – they’ve been contacting you for guidance.

JSF:  Hah.  If they want a Russ Van Alstyne, they’ll have to go out and find him like I did.

Julia!  How uncharitable of you!  The least you could do is give them a few pointers.  Kinda like a trade off instead of a tithe?

EE:  Oh, this is a hot one running around Manhattan!  Rumor has it that Donald Trump is building a chi-chi gated community on Long Island-and he not only wants to call it ‘Millers Kill’ – he’s asked you to pose for a bronze bust to set at the entrance, but you turned him down.  What?

JSF:  I didn’t want my bust to be responsible for a bronze shortage, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

Ahem.  Well, darling – I’m always up for a compliment, but truth be known – in my case it’s the result of too much pasta. 

EE:  My favorite little spy told me that you have a fetish for M&M’s and you can’t write unless you have the pantry stocked with them.  Not that you have to eat them, just that they’re there.  Like a talisman kinda thing?  Is that it?

JSF:  Talisman? Huh?  I mean – yeah.  That’s right.  I would never dream of touching one of those three-pound Party Size bags.  Uh uh.  Why are you looking at me?  I’ve got candy-coated shell bits on my teeth, don’t I?

Uh, no…not really.  I, uh…well, I thought maybe it was a new trend.  You know…multi-colored caps?  Striking though…I mean, really different.  You could start someting here.

EE:  Mysteryville is abuzz about the rumor that you and Ross are leaving for Hollywood to have talks with an un-named network about a reality show portraying the life of a best-selling author.  Care to comment?

JSF:  I’m trying to picture this reality show.  You’d have a scene of Ross taking the kids to school-and then a scene of me sitting in front of a computer.  Maybe some comical stuff with the kids getting into trouble or with my whacky next-door-neighbor–and then a scene of me sitting at the computer.  A phone call from my agent–and then me sitting in front of my computer.  The big exciting part would be when I make dinner.

Oh, this has got legs!  I tell you, I’m rivited.  Now about that wacky neighbor-has it been cast yet?  I’m free for a few months after October.

EE:  Denise Hamilton told me you’re direction challenged.  And Ross even said you get lost at the supermarket.  How do you cope with this?  I mean, I have the same problem, so any help would be appreciated.

JSF:  Okay, hold your hands up in front of you.  Pretend to pick up a pen.  Shake your writing hand around.  That’s your right.  Write-right, get it?   If you’re left-handed, I can’t help you.

Uh, okay.  I think.  But, see – it’s when I get out of elevators.  I never remember which way I’m supposed to go.  What the hell – I’ll give it a try.

EE:  While I try to figure that one out – tell me who would be your ideal panel mates.

JSF:  Why, Jeff Shelby, Peter Spiegelman, Marcia Talley, and Kathryn Wall, of course.  With whom, as chance would have it, I am appearing Thursday, September 28th at noon at the World Mystery Convention in Madison, Wisconsin.

Yes, that is about as blatant a panel-plug as you can get.  But look at us!  It’s the first panel on the first day of Bouchercon!  We’ll be lucky to have an audience of three!  Please, somebody, keep us company.  I’m begging here.

Oh, pshaw!  You’ll have an SRO crowd! The only begging you’ll have to do is ask for a bigger room!

EE:  So, Julia-move in close, and tell me the real scoop about that dinner date with Harrison Ford you refused.  Was it really because he insisted Ross stay at home?  I mean, I know you two are as lovey-dovey as can be, but Harrison Ford???

JSF:  I got all excited because I thought he wanted to fly both of us to Las Vegas and then pay a cool million to spend the night with me.  But then it turned out my cell phone number is one digit off Demi Moore’s, and the whole thing fell apart.

Oh.  Okay.  Wink, wink.  I get it.  No problemo.  Gosh, just imagine.  One digit off, huh?

EE:  On a safer note (?) – which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at Bcon?

JSF:  Janet Evanovich.  In the shadowy darkness, I would slip an undetectable poison into her drink.  Then, after removing her body under the guise of ‘helping out a friend who had too many’ (an utterly believable alibi at Bouchercon) I would fly to a South American country where a bribeable yet skilled plastic surgeon would give me Janet’s face.  I would then seamlessly step into her life, with none the wiser, except maybe for a few suspicions when in 14 Points Stephanie Plum joins the Episcopal church and developes a hopeless yearning for a married man.

You wouldn’t!  Would you?  Think it might really work?  Tell you what – you give it a try.  I’ll check back with you and then maybe you could help me with…….

EE:  Whilst I jot down a few names for this caper, tell me what – Heaven forbid (excuse me Clare) would you be doing if you weren’t writing?

JSF:  Oh, Lord.  I’d be working in a law firm somewhere, wearing panty hose every day, sucking up to the partners and spending 50-60 hours a week trying to make idiot clients look good.  Thank you, everyone who has ever bought one of my books, for saving me from such a fate!

Funny you should say that – I was talking to John the other day – oh, excuse me – Grisham, I mean – and he feels the same way.  Lawyering seems to do that, doesn’t it?  Is that why so many of them become writers?  Hmmm.

EE:  You’re going on the road – it’s gonna be a long tour – but hey, your publisher is paying the freight – but still, it’s lonely.  So tell me who would be your ideal tour mate.  You can have more than one, okay?

JSF:  This sounds like the beginning of that joke that goes, "I’ve had both of ’em…," but I’ve already found my ideal book tour mate.  Denise Hamilton and I not only have similar tastes, interests and habits, she also makes me laugh more than should be allowed.  When we’re on the road, Denise forces me to eat good food and understands when I drop everything to call my kids.  She navigates, placates, orates and she lets me take the driver’s seat.  Her only drawback is that her wildly successful Eve Diamond series is now on a different publishing schedule from my books.  We have to do something about that.

Uh, don’t get me wrong – I adore Denise – and I love her Eve Diamond series – but, uh, I did say you could have more than one.  I mean, I don’t mind sitting in the back seat.  Honest.  And I don’t hum to myself anymore.

EE:  You’re having six guests for dinner.  Who would they be, and what would you serve?

JSF:  They’d be Anthony Bourdain and five of his chef buddies.  And I’d serve drinks while they cooked.

Now, here is a woman after my own heart!  That’s the ticket, kiddo!  I have a great receipe for Sazerac.  Ali Karim suggests adding a cucumber, but I prefer champagne. Shall I send it on?

EE:  This rumor is burning up the internet, Julia – and an inferno is threatening.  Even Otto Penzler has taken notice!  I really must insist you clear the air.  I’ve been told by Paul Guyot is ready to leave his family for you if you’d only run away with him to watch a Portland Sea Dogs game.

JSF:  Elaine, I know you undestand what it’s like to be the sort of woman men just throw themselves at no matter what you do.  I simply can’t be responsible for every Tom, Dick and Harrison out there who shows up on my doorstep, carrying flowers, threatening suicide, etc., etc.  That being said, everyone knows I’m a big booster of the Sea Dogs, and this August they’ve been wilting like the Red Sox.  No. Wait.  I can’t say that anymore…HURRAH!  The Sea Dogs need energetic cheering to get them back into first place in the Northern Division of the Eastern League (got that?), so I suppose I’d be willing to let Guyot tag along.  He has to buy the Sea Dog Biscuits, though, and get me home at a reasonable hour.

Sigh.  Yes, Julia – I do understand.  It’s something you and I just have to accept and learn to live with.  And, I must say, you’ve done it with the utmost grace.  Nonetheless, Guyot is one persistant, but oh-so loveable devil.  I am sure, however, he will comport himself well, and have you home before the witching hour.  Right, Guyot?

EE:  And last, but not least, Julia – what’s in store for Clare and Russ?  You can tell me – you know my lips are sealed. More or less.

JSF:  The fifth book – ALL MORTAL FLESH – is coming out at the beginning of October, and you can take a sneak peek at my website.  In the meantime, I’m hard at work on the as-yet-unnamed sixth book in the series.  As far as what will happen with Russ and Clare – well, I’d tell you, Elaine.  But then I’d have to kill you.

Oh.  In that case, I’ll just wait and buy the book.  I mean, I’m dying to know (scratch that word), but then – who would do On The Bubble?

So very many thanks to Julia for being here with us today!  And to those of you who have dropped by, I hope you’ve had as much fun as Julia and me.  If not -then, well…never mind.

I Believe!

by Pari Noskin Taichert

Lies! We drown in lies.

Child predators sneak on the internet, lurking on game sites, luring children. Mrs. Samson of Nigeria sends emails pleading with the Most Honorable you to help get her money out of the country. Omigod! You’ve just won millions in an international lottery you didn’t even enter. All you have to do is send a money order to claim your prize. Someone from your credit card company is calling, asking to verify your security code number . . .

Is the Evil Editor real? Who is Ms. Snark? Does Sarah Weinman exist? Is David Montgomery really who he claims to be? Is that truly Barry Eisler’s hair?

How do we know truth? How do we recognize the real from the fabricated in life?

I think it’s a gut reaction — a belief — that we then own or verify.

But what happens when the whole goal is fabrication? That’s what fiction is, after all . . . . lies.

When, and how, do fictional characters ring true?

We all recognize when a character works — rock solid or skittery as a squirrel on Red Bull — we believe in her. During the reading, she exists — full formed and breathing. We hear her voice, smell her deodorant, understand her motivations, taste the garlic bread she eats.

Alas, almost as often, characters ring false. Why?

We might have physical descriptions, emotional tags, explanations about abusive relationships, but still these fictional creations resemble cardboard. For some reason, we don’t have enough of the right information to engage in their lives.

What’s missing?

Why do we read some books and believe in those characters (and their worlds, no matter how seemingly outrageous) so much that they remain with us for weeks or years? Why do we read other stories that mean nothing to us, ones where the characters remain flat on the page and evoke no stronger reaction than to go clean the toilet?

I don’t have answers today, just questions.

Can you add to the conversation?

What makes a character ring true for you?

The Real and the Surreal

Pppicture_005Joe R. Lansdale and James O. Born appeared together at the Poisoned Pen last Wednesday night. 

LansdaleLost_echoes_2–an East Texan author of more than a dozen suspense, horror, and western novels–signed his newest mystery Lost Echoes.

Born–a real live special agent with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement–signed his latest crime thriller Field of Fire.

I’ve been a Lansdale fan for years now.  And if the reading was any indication, Lost Echoes continues the great mojo story-telling tradition that has earned the author an Edgar and six Bram Stoker awards. In the span of a single chapter, Lansdale worked his magic, weaving images and dialogue together to evoke humor, sadness, nostalgia, and dread.  It’s the kind of writing that both inspires me and makes me want to quit at the same time.

I’m much less familiar with Born’s work.  But I have a suspicion I’m going to be a fan very soon.  As I learned at the appearance, Born was a technical advisor to none other than Elmore Leonard, easily one of my favorite writers of all time.  I’ve never met Leonard; nonetheless his novel Rum Punch is the reason I write crime fiction.  In fact, having one of my stories merely appear in the same anthology as one of Leonard’s has been among my proudest moments.  Getting the thumbs up from Leonard, as well as his vast law enforcement experience, gives Born tremendous street cred, and I look forward to diving into his work.

Field_of_fire_2Together, the authors put on a damn entertaining show.  Born told some great cop stories that had me chuckling more than a few times.  And Lansdale?  Well, Lansdale was Lansdale, with all that Texas charm and wit.  I’d go to see either of these guys again in a heartbeat.

Yet at the end of the evening, I couldn’t help but think about how different they were as writers.  Both are very funny.  In fact, I’ve seen the word "quirky" in reference to both their works.  But from what I understand, Born’s novels are deeply rooted in the real world.  He has an insider’s view of crime which I’m told is reflected in the pages.  On the other hand, Lansdale seems to dabble in the surreal.  Don’t get me wrong; he breathes life into his characters and they jump off the page as true as anyone’s.  But there is always something delightfully off center about them and their worlds. They’re bigger than life and yet painfully human.

So here comes the question.

Do you prefer novels that paint a realistic portrait of the world, or do you like your fiction a little over the top?

And before you cheat and claim it depends on your mood at the time, let me remind you of a line from Pulp Fiction.  There are Elvis fans and Beatles fans.  Elvis fans can like the Beatles, and Beatles fans can like Elvis.  But you have to like one more than the other.

Connection Overload

by Alex

The i Phone is here and now this future computer.

Yes, of course, cool.   I’m not immune to the coolness.   But looking at that photo also made my heart sink.   It looks to me like even more time on the computer per day.
And that’s more than a little scary.

I was talking to a graduate school class of future librarians this week about writing and giving them an overview of Internet resources for authors and someone asked me how I manage my time on the Internet.

Manage??

No, really.   That’s hysterical.   

Let’s see, now.   There’s Murderati, MySpace, Facebook, Dorothy L, Murder Must Advertise, MWA Breakout,  Mystery Babes, 4MA,  Sisters in Crime, Idiosyncratic, Newbie’s Guide,  WriterAction, Shocklines, Backspace, Good Girls Kill,  Naked Authors,  Heart of Carolina….  now CrimeSpace…. and I mean, that’s just the basics.   And then, oh, right, my friends.

The answer is, I DON’T manage my Internet time.   Some days I cut myself off.   Others… well, that’s where it can get ugly.
But obviously I’m not alone.   As I started my mini-tirade on the unmanageability of it all in this library class, the entire class was nodding in unison and looking both relieved and desperate.
We can’t really do our work as authors without the instant connection of the Internet – and neither, it seems, can people in most other professions.   But there’s got to be a balance somewhere.

Seeing that touch-sensitive computer reminded me of, well, the movie MINORITY REPORT, where Tom Cruise stood in front of a holographic computer and manipulated information through touch…. but even more of George Bernard Shaw’s play BACK TO METHUSELAH, in which (if I recall correctly) human beings had evolved into giant brains, no bodies at all, that communicated telepathically.

Sound a little familiar?    It’s terrifying, I tell you.

On the other hand, at least once the computers are actually implanted in our heads (which I have no doubt they will be) – then we can do all this obsessive Internetting while hiking or walking on the beach.

Okay, so here’s my point.  It’s Spring, right?   And even though I’m from California and Spring Break isn’t traditionally the week-long blowout orgy it is for some of the rest of the country, it is still Spring.   
So please, everyone, get out in the sun.   Roll around in the sand.   Take the computer if you really have to, that’s what wireless is for.   But we still have bodies.   Let’s remember how to use them before we turn into giant interconnected brains.

———————————————————————————————————————-
NEW… NEW… NEW… Daniel Hatadi Creates A Virtual Bar For Crime Writers and Readers!

CRIMESPACE on the Ning Social Network:
A place for crime fiction writers, readers and lovers to schmooze, booze and draw up plans for the heist to end all heists. Find new authors to delve into and discuss the latest in crime fiction. Join up and enter the forums. Share photos, videos and make some friends.
Pull up a chair at the bar and share your poison.

The Origins of the Species

JT Ellison

Toni Causey had an excellent blog about fear on Killer Year, and at the end, she broached a
question. What’s the first book you
ever read that made you want to keep reading? That made you realize that yes,
this is a way of interacting with the world, of learning about it or
finding someone similar, and you became a reader for life?

I’ve been dreading this question. The truth is, I don’t
know. I can’t remember. All I know is I’ve always, always read, always written,
and somewhere deep inside my conscience, always knew I’d be a writer one day. So
I thought I’d try to trace it out, see if I can find my way back to the moment.

There are certainly books that I recall affecting me so
strongly that it ultimately shaped my childhood.

The first book I remember having an impact was THE THORN
BIRDS. Damn Colleen McCullough. Maggie’s daughter gets lice, and my mom used to tell me that if I didn’t
let her brush my hair, I was going to get lice too. I couldn’t have been more than
six or seven (yes, I read much too weighty tomes early.) I forced my mother to
cut my hair. My gorgeous white blond waist length hair. Arghhh. So I guess on
some level I knew how powerful storytelling could be.

The second that really stands out is Peter Straub’s GHOST
STORY. Pardon my French, but it scared the living shit out of me. I couldn’t
comfortably go to the bathroom by myself for months. I was about nine or ten then, because
we’d moved into the new house on Apache Drive. (That’s partly how I track these
pieces of memories – where they happened is the only way I can figure when it
happened.)

I know I read all the typical books a budding female reader
goes through – Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Dr. Spock (because
honestly, who didn’t), Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Aesop’s Fables, anything on
mythology, C.S. Lewis’s brilliant series The Chronicles of Narnia, Madeline L’Engle,
Jack London, Tolkien — I could go on and on. I read everything I could get my hands on,
whether my parents said it was okay or not. I actually don’t ever remember my
mother taking a book from me and saying no, you can’t read that. God bless her
for that.

So, interspersed with Judy Blume’s ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT’S
ME, MARGARET and FOREVER, I was reading the grown-up books. When I was eleven
one came out that changed me. Jean M. Auel’s CLAN OF THE CAVE BEAR.

It was by far the most complex and far-reaching book I’d
read. At eleven, conceptualizing a young woman your age who is the link between
you and your pre-historic past can get a little heady. But there was more. Midway through, Ayla is raped by Broud, son
of the leader of the clan. Brutally beaten and raped.

I was outraged for Ayla. She was my hero, and she’d been
demeaned and used. Plotwise, it’s an inevitable situation. Reading the story as
an adult, as a writer, Auel’s intent is clear. But as a child, precocious as I
may have been, the inequity was nearly insurmountable. I hated Broud, cried
when Ayla found herself pregnant with a mixed breed child. As the book drew to
a close, I seethed and brooded. “It’s just a story,” my mother told me. Just a
story indeed.

Twenty-six years later, as I puzzle may way through my
inceptions as a reader and a writer, I wonder if this is the moment I’ve been searching for.
Have I found my Pygmalion? Is this the genesis of my love for crime fiction? And more importantly, is
this why I write serial killers?

I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure. My journey for
self-awareness will continue.

How about you? Can you pinpoint the book that solidified
your journey, made you a reader, or a writer?

Wine of the Week: Zenato Ripasso Valpolicella 

Reminded me of a nice Pinot Noir, actually, smooth and deceptively simple.

————–

NEW… NEW… NEW… Daniel Hatadi Creates A Virtual Bar For Crime Writers and Readers!

CRIMESPACE on the Ning Social Network

A place for crime fiction writers, readers and lovers to schmooze,
booze and draw up plans for the heist to end all heists. Find new
authors to delve into and discuss the latest in crime fiction. Join up
and enter the forums. Share photos, videos and make some friends.

Pull up a chair at the bar and share your poison.

 

A Killer Idea

I’m back from England.  I hope Troy behaved while I was away.

Well, enough about him and more about me.  I’m in bouyant spirits at the moment.  My latest thriller, Accidents Waiting to Happen, came out last week in all its shining glory, and incidently enough, my post neatly dovetails into Louise’s post about the spark for a story and in particular the spark for Accidents.

I have a fascination for the odd and the obscure.  I’m always on the lookout for strange but real occurrences that would make for a really interesting story.  The inspiration for Accidents was the unusual business world of viatical settlements.

So what are viatical settlements and what makes them so special?   In a sense, they’re a reverse insurance arrangement.  If you own a life insurance policy and you want to cash it in, you go to a viatical settlement agent who will find someone to buy it.  The buyer will give you pennies on the dollar for your policy and take over the monthly dues on your life insurance.  In return, they will become the beneficiary when you die.  The closer you are to the grave, the bigger the payout.

Viatical settlements were aimed at the elderly and the terminally ill to cover final expenses and make their last days comfortable, but the industry really took off in the late 80’s and 90’s when HMOs weren’t covering AIDS and HIV patients.  Patients needed money for treatment and viatical settlements provided the perfect vehicle for that.  The industry hit the skids in the late 90’s when breakthroughs in AIDS drugs extended life expectancies and the payout times increased.

I saw the beauty and the beast in this arrangement.  Viaticals give people a second shot at life, or at least a comfortable end, allowing them to live out their life worry free.  On the other hand, viatical settlements are a truly ghoulish proposal.  Some companies ran late-night advertisements telling people how they could make money quick.  See a 25% return on your money in 12 months or less.  To the investor, that sounds great.  But to achieve that return, someone has to die.  There is no way to ignore the fact that the policy buyer is profiteering off the dead.

I came across viatical settlements on a TV news magazine show.  The feature was well done.  The story covered all the parties involved in one of these arrangements.  They interviewed a person with HIV who had sold their life insurance as well as a retired couple who had purchased several policies through a middleman who arranged the sales.  It was great to see a person who’d had one foot over the threshold of death’s door come back from the brink after selling his policy.  It was shocking watching the retired couple that had sunk their retirement fund into viatical settlements.  They displayed vehement disgust for the people they’d paid good money to who hadn’t had the good graces to die as predicted.

The news clip ended with a kicker and it was that kicker that really grabbed my attention.  The middleman is supposed to keep the identities of the buyer and seller confidential.  The man with HIV who’d sold his life insurance produced a birthday card.  It had arrived unsigned on his last birthday.  The message was simple and to the point.  It said: Why aren’t you dead yet?

I couldn’t let this go.  There was a book here.  Viatical settlements presented a very interesting concept.  Criminals aren’t the only ones with a price on their heads.  Everyone is worth more dead than alive, thanks to their life insurance.  And what if the beneficiaries can’t afford to wait to inherit?  A murder would lead someone to the beneficiary, but an accidental death wouldn’t.

For Accidents, I stretched the rules concerning viatical settlements a bit to create a cat and mouse thriller.  I made rules surrounding viaticals much more far ranging.  Essentially, anyone could qualify.  In the book, the lead character, Josh Michaels, takes a bribe to pay for his newborn child’s medical expenses.  His secretary blackmails him when she learns of the bribe.  To pay her off, Josh sells his life insurance policy.  Years later, when the bribe, the blackmail and the policy sale are long forgotten, he’s driving home when he’s forced off the road by another vehicle into a river.  Instead of helping Josh, the driver gives him the thumbs-down gesture and drives off.  Josh survives the accident and learns he’s not the only person having "accidents."  The one thing these people have in common is that they’ve all made a viatical settlement in the past.

Usually, truth is stranger than fiction, and I love that, but if I can get a hold of it, I’ll make that fiction a little stranger.

Yours with one eye on slaughter,
Simon Wood

ON THE BUBBLE WITH J.T. ELLISON

I love to chat with debut writers.  They’re so filled with energy and optimism – so ready and eager to offer their stories – stories they conjured night after sleepless night – stories they knew might never see the light of day.  But they kept on – realizing that dedication and perseverance – even after facing countless rejections – was not for the faint of heart.  I guess you could say that ‘strong heart’ is what I appreciate and admire about them.  We won’t tell them that was the easy part.  They’ve all got a new battle ahead – finding readers – hoping for great reviews – setting up signings that may only draw a handful of people, deciding which of the dozen or so mystery conventions they can continue to afford to attend, acceptance from their peers – maybe even a nomination  – or  – gulp – just ‘selling through.’   Oh, yes – and add to that the pressure to join a blog to keep your name alive – being an active participant on the scores of listserves – and in between – get the next book ready!  Phew, huh?  Like I said…not for the faint of heart.  Just surviving all of the above is daunting in itself.  Even stepping over the dead bodies along the way takes some doing… 

You will note that I’m not replying today with my usual inane comments.  Debut writers have enough to contend with…

So let’s all wish them luck – and we’ll start right here, right now – with our own J.T. Ellison.

Jt_in_color_1 J.T. ELLISON   http://www.jtellison.com

EE:  As one of the main founders of Killer Year 2007 – tell us how this innovative cabal came about?

JT:  It all started as a conversation among friends about how we could get reviews for our paperback novels.  It’s hard enough to get reviewed as a debut author.  To be in paperback makes this feat a bit of a double whammy.  After a few well-placed comments by some industry biggies, like Sarah Weinman, we realized we had something that would help us not just with reviews, but with one of the most important aspects of marketing – promotion.  Thus, KY was born, and we’ve been enjoying the ride since last summer.  We’ve got authors in each medium, paperback, trade and hardcover, and the reviews so far have been stellar.

EE:  If you were planning a multi-city book tour, which writers (two) would you love to have join you? And why?

JT:  That’s easy.  Tasha Alexander, because she keeps me sane, and people flock to her, and Stephen King, because he’d bring out a huge crowd and could teach me about writing better afterward.  Both authors are our of my immediate genre too, which means I’d get good crossover exposure.

EE:  What is your greatest indulgence – before and after you got your advance?

JT:  Hmm, that’s a hard one.  I’m a sucker for a good pedicure, so I’d have to list that as my before.  As for after – well, I did the wisest thing I could possibly do, and didn’t go crazy.  We were finishing a remodel of our master bath, so I used a tiny bit for that and invested the rest.  I’ll get a new laptop one of these days, and I need a new truck (mine has seen better days), but since I only drive to bookstores and Starbucks, it’s not that pressing.  I guess I’m just a little too practical for big indulgences.  How boring am I?

EE:  How about sharing your thought when your agent told you your series had been sold.

JT:  I’m pretty sure there were dogs three neighborhoods over cringing.  I was very, very excited.  It was one of those odd moments, too, because my parents don’t live near me, and they were driving through and spending two days.  We were watching THE HISTORY OF VIOLENCE when the phone rang and I saw that ‘212’ area code.  My heart took off; I just knew something was up.  I actually uttered a very bad word.  I answered, listened, stopped my agent and made him repeat everything because my brain wasn’t processing.  I kept quiet, managed to call my husband, then broke the news to all three of them at once.  It was the second greatest moment in my life.

Jts_book

EE:  What do you see as your greatest challenge now that your first book will be out this fall?

JT:  Balance is first and foremost on my mind right now.  There’s so much to be done to launch a career in this industry.  The marketing, getting my name out there without being too pushy, hoping that people buy, read and enjoy the book, and continuing to write at the pace I’m going is daunting.  But I have a wonderful support system.  Between family, writing friends and non-writing friends, I’ve got some amazing people who help keep me grounded and sane.  Once the balance is achieved, I’m going to have to deal with the whole public speaking issue.  I’m nervous, but I keep asking myself, what’s the worst that could happen?  I flub.  Life will go on, right? The people who love me will still love me.  I know I’m going to make mistakes, I make plenty every day.  The crime fiction readers are so generous, I hope they’ll forgive me a botch here and there.

EE:  I understand you have two more books in the series ready to go – and they will be published in rapid succession – six months apart -rather than the traditional one year system.  Is this a pace you feel you can continue, or is this something new your publisher is experimenting with? 

JT:  It seems to be a trend in publishing in general.  Allison Brennan got it kick-started in crime fiction,  but there are plenty of writers who do more than one book a year.  I know Mira has two of us on this schedule, and Harper is debuting an author next summer with the same model.  Happily, I write fairly quickly and consistently, shooting for at least 1,000 words a day no matter what.  It takes me about 4 months to do a draft of a manuscript.  Then I get it out to my readers, let them make comments and I do a big rewrite before turning it in to my editor.  I like the pressure.  It makes me reach for goals I wouldn’t normally set for myself.  Can I keep it up?  For a while.  Forever?  I don’t know the answer to that yet.

EE:  So, J.T. – with Nashville being the home of country music – is it true that bumper stickers are being made to publicize J.T. Ellison as being the first writer to change that to ‘the home of killer fiction’?

JT:  Ha!  I actually did my first face-to-face Nashville interview last week, about both my books and Killer Year.  I’ll wait to see if anyone wants those bumper stickers after that comes out in April. I don’t write about country music, and I don’t glamorize my town.  It’s a living, breathing entity in my books, a strong character in it’s own right, full of flaws, and there’s none of the fluff sometimes associated with Music City.  The real Nashville can be very dark, and I try to capture that essence on paper.  I want people to know that there’s more to Nashville than country music and the Swan Ball.

EE:  Rumors are rampant that Willie Nelson wants you to write him in as a new character – but you had to tell him you’d already settled on Sheryl Crow.  So, is Willie still calling?

JT:  Good old Willie.  I remember my mom playing his albums when I was a kid, and loving that track ‘Always On My Mind’.  Other than that, I don’t know the man well enough to write him in.  But since all the big rock stars are moving to town, Sheryl might get a slot.  Or Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban.  Nicole’s just so stunning, and really engaged in the Nashville lifestyle.  Ashley Judd might be in the running too.

EE:  What book do you wish you’d written – and why?

JT:  I don’t think I could have written anything but what I’ve done.  I’ve got my own little niche, my own style and voice; I’d ruin anyone else’s effort.  If forced, I’d say Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’.  Brilliant use of unreliable narrator, something I’ve always wanted to try.  In epistolary form, of course.

EE:  Time for your Walter Mitty Dream.  Besides being published that is.

JT:  Anything vaguely heroic I leave to my protagonist, Taylor Jackson.  Me, I’d like to have a nice little farmhouse in Castel Rigone or Castiglione del Lago, on the Tuscan-Umbrian border, someplace where hubby and I could escape for a few months out of the year.  An hour to Florence,two hours to my famila in Pinarolo, that would be pretty much perfect.  I’ve also always wanted to own a bookshop in a small Colorado mountain town, the kind where everyone knows your name and there’s nothing to do but read, ski, and socialize.

EE:  If you weren’t writing – what would you be doing?

JT:  I tried to envision this the other day.  I’ve worn a lot of career hats, and if I had it to do over again, I’d become a writer.  I’ve never been so content, so fulfilled.  But I did have a missed opportunity – I should have tried to go go Q school for the LPGA and attempt to make the majors.  I thought going to college was more important.  D’oh!  I could be playing golf year round and getting paid for it.  Teenagers are so dumb sometimes.

EE:  What is your least favorite sound?  Or word?

JT:  I cringe every time I hear the word ‘moist’.  I just don’t like it.  It’s icky.  And I’m not a big fan of my next-door neighbor’s dog.  There’s a possum living in the woods behind us, and the nasty little creature teases the dog, who rises to the bait every time.  Which means endless days of barking.

EE:  Give us three wishes.

JT:  That there were no more flame wars, no ill will, no jealously among writers.  Controversy is a fact of life, if there was a way to have it without being personal, that would be lovely.

For readers to enjoy my books.

For us to win the lottery so hubby can sit around and eat bon-bons all day.

EE:  Suppose you were moderating a panel – who would be your ideal panel mates?

JT:  Lee Child, for the gravitas.  Diana Gabaldon, because she knows how to engage an audience.  Barry Eisler, for his immense innuendo skills.  Miss Snark, so I could publicly thank her for the laughs.  And Tasha, of course, so I wouldn’t throw up.

EE:  And last – which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a secluded corner of the bar at ThrillerFest this year?

JT:  There are so many people I’m looking forward to seeing in New York this summer, the list is too long to post here.  You and I certainly need a quiet moment or two.

Thanks for playing with me, Evil.  This was great fun!

Uh, J.T.?  This last comment?  Your closing?  It’s mine, okay?  Capice? 🙂

NOTE:  ON THE BUBBLE WILL BE – FOR THE NEXT FEW MONTHS – TWICE MONTHLY.  WHILE I’VE GOT A SLEW OF INTERVIEWS WAITING IN THE WINGS – I’M A BIT CAPTURED THESE DAYS WITH REMODELING AND A NEW FAMILY ADDITION.  A TEN WEEK OLD SHIH TZU WHO GOES BY THE NAME OF ROCKY DROPPED IN ON MY BIRTHDAY.  IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I’VE HAD AN INFANT AROUND AND…WELL…I’VE GOT TO BRUSH UP ON MY PARENTING SKILLS.  SOME TERRIFIC GUEST BLOGGERS WILL BE FILLING IN – SO STAY TUNED, OKAY?