Welcome guest blogger Scott Nicholson!

Today I’m thrilled to host Scott Nicholson here at Murderati.  Scott is a friend and one of my favorite supernatural thriller writers (some people say horror; I think what Scott delivers masterfully is spooky thrills, the best kind!) 

If you haven’t read Scott, I highly recommend you give him a try. Here’s his Amazon page to browse, I guarantee there’s something for everyone, and the price is right! 

Just added:  Scott will be giving four books away (free for Kindle) this weeked (March 17-18) at http://www.ebookswag.com , so it’s the perfect time to load up!

And those of you who know anything at all about e publishing know that Scott has been at the vanguard of the e publishing revolution – I’ve been wanting to get him here for ages to talk about what he sees as the future. So for your enjoyment and hopefully enlightenment – here’s Scott!

Subsidizing the Freebie

By Scott Nicholson

I’ve gotten out of the “writer babble” business for two reasons: (1) I don’t know as much as I thought I did, and (2) it’s all changing so fast that even the boldest predictions of digital evolution quickly become laughable.

I don’t even use traditional publishing as a reference point anymore, because that is so far removed from most writers’ realities that it may as well be Shangri-la or Hollywood. The indie vs. trad debate is now only meaningful for a small group of people, and they are all making way more money than you or me.

So you are in it, and if you are lucky, you made a nice little nest egg back when everyone was standing on the sidelines deciding whether indie was the way to go. Hopefully, you shook off the intellectual shackles that chained us to the agent speed-dating sessions at writing conferences and were hammered and locked into place by “publishing experts” with 20-year writing careers in the old system. You know the mantras: “Get an agent,” “Only hacks self-publish,” and “You can’t produce and distribute a book without the advice of publishing experts.” Basically, ego affirmation. Of course the experts didn’t want to lose their position of authority (and in the agents’ case, the intermediary status of being the first in line to get checks.)

But the gate was left open and the horses all got out of the barn, or something like that (come up with your own gatekeeper metaphor; I am writing this for free!) So now we have a market where the 99-cent ebook had a year’s run, and the pool was finally beginning to find stratification (crappy books sinking, good books nailing stable plateaus) when Amazon unleashed the latest version of indie roulette—the free ebook.

I’m on record as predicting the flat-text e-book era has an outside range of five years, at least for fiction—specialized non-fiction and manuals will continue to be valuable for their content alone. I believe e-book sales will continue, but certainly not with expanding profits for all involved. Now that there are thousands of free Kindle books available every single day, how long before readers come to expect and even demand free books exclusively?

Freebie roulette. Great for readers. Good for Amazon (maybe in the short term, but it is hard to figure the long term). Terrible for authors.

The market is diverse enough to support many different price tiers, but writers who want to survive in 2015 will need to make money off of free books, or they will soon quit writing.

I only see one outcome: ad-supported or sponsored books. At first blush, you’d think N.Y. has an advantage, since Madison Avenue is right there. But can corporations, with their large structures, be able to compete when indie or smaller entities can react more quickly to present conditions instead of protecting some imagined status quo?

J.K. Rowling can inspire a Pottermore built around her brand, and James Patterson, Tom Clancy, and Clive Cussler have already built factories around their names (and, yes, V.C. Andrews, you can roll over in your grave two or three more times for all I care, because this is all your fault). But most of us are not factories or we wouldn’t have to indie publish.

This points out the new era of the branded writer. And not just “writer,” but “content creator” and even mere “idea marketer.” A personality is more suited to building brand identification and audience than a publisher is. I say “James Patterson” and you get an image. I say “Random House” and what do you get? Randomness. We’ve seen it here locally: “Ray’s Weather” is where you check the weather and “Todd’s Calendar” is where you click to find what’s happening in the region—and both are ad supported. You can get the free content elsewhere but you don’t get the human personality attached.

I’m already experimenting with the ad model because I believe it is viable. I am counting on Idea Marketing being one of my foundational pillars. I am not quite sure what it all looks like right now, but I look at it this way—you don’t need NY in order to give away tons of free e-books or to spread an idea or to build a social platform. You are the idea you want to spread.

Other authors will say “I’ll never sell out.” (Ironically, those are usually the authors who have given most of their incomes to agents and publishers…) I don’t blame people for sticking with what worked in the past. It all goes to how invested you are in a certain system and how the alternative looks, and, of course, the turf where you’ve staked out your ego. Publishing-industry talk on e-books uses phrases like “managing risk” and “cautious adaptation.” That is why those of us in the trenches knew Barnes & Noble was in serious trouble when most in the “publishing industry” only realized it recently when BN’s horrifyingly bad third-quarter reports came in. They are working off of old data while I work off the data I got an hour ago.

And my data says this may be the very peak of the Golden Age of digital publishing. The $9.99 novel may be dead this year, since three-quarters of the current bestsellers are low-priced indie books. As fast as major publishers yank their name-brand authors out of digital libraries, 10 new indies cram into that virtual shelf space. Maybe forever. James Patterson’s factory can’t run on $2.99 ebooks, but mine can.

But what happens when the $2.99 and 99 cents drop to permanently free? Where’s your sponsor? Are you willing to go there? It’s not going to be as clumsy as an image of a refreshing Bud Lite popping up when the main character enters a bar (though it’s not unthinkable at some point.) Can you see Jack Reacher with a favorite brand of soft drink, or Bella Swan wearing only Calvin Klein? At what point is your willing suspension of disbelief shattered? At what point do you realize the ad is the only reason the book can exist at all?

My informal polling on ad-supported ebooks yields statements like: “I’ll quit reading before I put up with that.” I also remember saying I’d never carry a cell phone, or be on Facebook, or give up my vinyl albums, or start thinking that maybe nuclear energy is the best short-range answer to our energy addiction. Or that I’d ever read an entire book on a screen.

I don’t know the answer, but I am deeply invested in the question. So, ads in ebooks. As readers and writers, what is your opinion?

———

Scott Nicholson is the bestselling author of a bunch of books and also released The Indie Journey: Secrets to Writing Success, because some people still think you can buy the secret instead of be the secret. Follow him on Facebook, blog, Twitter, website, or newsletter.

 

 

Get ready, cause here I come

By PD Martin

In some ways I was quick getting on board the whole self-published ebook phenomenon but in other ways I’ve been a slow, dumb-ass! By the way, I’d never really heard the term dumb ass until I watched That 70s Show. Love it! Is that a term purely from the show, or was it in use in the US before That 70s Show?

 

You may remember that in the Australian summer holidays (January) I was away for quite some time and didn’t get much writing done. However, what I did do was a 2012 plan. I spent years working as a corporate writer and sometimes I think it’s extremely useful to bring some of the corporate tools to the creative world. One such thing is project planning (I have project plans with word targets and completion dates for pretty much everything I work on) and another thing that’s useful is a twelve-month strategy.

Anyway, the main realization from my strategy planning was that I needed to get on to the ebook bandwagon properly. I say properly, because in 2009/2010 I wrote a Sophie Anderson novella (Coming Home, the sixth book in the series) online. Literally online. Each week I’d write a chapter and then post a few multiple-choice questions for my readers to have a say in the direction of the book for the next chapter/week. It was a scary and exciting time. Scary because I didn’t know exactly what I’d write next and exciting because it was such a different way of writing and I felt like a pioneer. Once I was finished I organised cover art, got the book edited and posted it online as a free download. It was on my website (and nowhere else – big dumb ass!) for nearly a year before I became more aware of the whole self-published ebook revolution and got it up on Amazon and Smashwords for $2.99. Sales were modest, but there were sales without ANY publicity.

So, back to my New Year strategy planning. One of the key outcomes of my 2012 strategy is to get my (dumb)ass into gear with the ebook thing. First stop: Sophie. I’ve never been into short stories much, but in 2006 I was asked to write a Sophie Anderson short story for a magazine called Australian Women’s Weekly (it’s actually now published monthly, but they decided in the 1980s not to change it to Australian Women’s Monthly – for obvious reasons, I suspect). Anyway, I wrote a story called Missing and submitted it to my publicist and Aussie editor. However, I was concerned that the gist of it (child abduction) might not be appropriate for the magazine, plus it was set in Melbourne, before Sophie went to the FBI and wasn’t exactly indicative of a Sophie book. My hunch was right and I started from scratch, writing a story about a missing girl but with a very different tone and set after Body Count and in Washington DC. For that story, I had two different endings and after a discussion with my publishers we chose an ending and submitted it. The Weekly loved it and it appeared in the March 2006 edition.

So, these two stories had been sitting on my C drive for six years!!!! Why not do something with them? I gave them another round of editing, put them into Scrivener so I could output directly into an ebook, and paid a designer to create a cover. Last week, The Missing went up on Amazon, priced at 0.99! And just for fun, I included the alternate ending for the story set in DC.

Also sitting on my C drive were two true crime pieces that I wrote for a collection called Meaner than Fiction. I was asked to contribute to this collection and when I went looking for Aussie stories that I could get an ‘in’ to (e.g. could interview someone first hand) the two stories that came my way were actually stories of wrongful conviction. The first was about Andrew Mallard, a West Australian man with mental health issues who was charged with murder. The second story was about wrongful conviction in general, and I interviewed the director of one of Australia’s Innocence Projects. Again, fascinating stuff.

So, during my strategy session in January it occurred to me that I could package these two stories together as well. Last week, When Justice Fails, also went up on Amazon – also for 0.99.

So, stages 1 & 2 of my ebook strategy have been ticked off. Go me!

The next step in my ebook strategy rests on the idea that, like many writers, I have a draw full of finished but unpublished novels. Some of these should, and will, stay in my draw and archived on my computer. But there are others that I still believe in, including:

  1. the first book in a young adult trilogy; and
  2. a spy thriller I finished around this time last year but didn’t have any luck selling (apparently the spy thriller market is hard to break in to at the moment).

So, over the coming months you’ll be hearing about one more PD Martin self-published ebook, Hell Hath No Fury (at least I think that’s what I’m calling it) and the start of my YA ebook strategy (and the birth of a new pen name, Pippa Dee).

Have you joined the ebook revolution? 

DUMB ANSWERS TO STUPID QUESTIONS: BRAD PARKS EDITION

by Gar Anthony Haywood

A warning to all you Brad Parks haters out there: Get used to seeing this guy’s pretty face because he’s going to be around for a while.

Brad is a Dartmouth College grad and former investigative reporter who spent a dozen years writing for The Washington Post and The Newark Star-Ledger, and now that he’s turned his attention to writing crime fiction, he’s damn near taking over the world.

His debut novel, FACES OF THE GONE, won the Nero Award for Best American Mystery and the Shamus Award for Best First Mystery, a feat no single book had ever accomplished in the combined 60-year history of those awards. FACES OF THE GONE, which Library Journal called “the most hilariously funny and deadly serious mystery debut since Janet Evanovich’s ONE FOR THE MONEY,” launched the career of Brad’s fictional investigative reporter Carter Ross, who was just recently named by the readers of Jen Forbus’ terrific blog, Jen’s Book Thoughts, “the World’s Favorite Amateur Sleuth.”

Brad’s second Carter Ross novel, EYES OF THE INNOCENT, was even better than the first, or so said Library Journal and almost everyone else who read it.

Now his third Carter Ross novel, THE GIRL NEXT DOOR, has just been released, so naturally Brad’s spanning the electronic globe pimping it like a daddy whose baby needs new shoes.

Because that’s exactly the kind of shameless behavior I engage in when I have a new book out, and because Brad is actually as good at what he does as his press clippings would lead one to believe, I am happy today to introduce him to the Murderati faithful via the following Q & A.

But before you leap to any conclusions about this being just another boring, predictable Q & A, let me disabuse you right now of any such notion.  Brad’s a very witty guy, as his Carter Ross novels clearly demonstrate, and everyone here knows how hilarious I am, so we both thought we’d try to have as much fun with this interview as Brad’s readers will have reading THE GIRL NEXT DOOR . . .

Gar: You and I first met in the hotel bar at Thrillerfest a few years ago, when you weaseled your way into an incredibly personal conversation I was having with legendary book blogger Sarah Weinman.  Shortly thereafter, Sarah shut down her popular blog, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind, for good.  Coincidence?

Brad: C’mon. Any good mystery writer – and, Gar, you’re one of the best – knows there’s no such thing as a coincidence. You just happen to be the first to put it together. The fact is, Sarah’s tastes are pretty high-brow, and I’m not a 50-years-dead Icelandic author whose achingly beautiful and hauntingly spare novels are crying out for rediscovery. One brush with me convinced her the whole genre was heading straight into the crapper. She folded up shop, right then and there.

By the way, sorry to horn in on you that time, but I did want to say it was really courageous of you to tell Sarah about your gonorrhea.

Gar: After you won the Private Eye Writers of America’s Shamus award for your first novel, FACES OF THE GONE, you celebrated by posting photos of yourself posing with the award in locations all over San Francisco.  Any idea what you’ll do to celebrate when you inevitably win the Mystery Writers of America’s Edgar Award?

Brad: Yes. I’ll do the exact same thing in New York. But I’ll be naked.

Gar: You and your series character, investigative reporter Carter Ross, would seem to have a great deal in common.  In fact, I applaud you for resisting the temptation to name him “Parker Bradley.”  But in what ways are the two of you quite different?

Brad: Well, I’m left handed. And color blind. And otherwise… can I get back to you on this one?

No? Okay. Truth time: there’s a lot Carter and I obviously share, but I don’t really have Carter and I confused. He’s a separate person in my head. When I envision a scene, I don’t see myself as Carter. (He actually looks like a guy I used to work with). I think, more than anything, having Carter share certain traits with me is a convenience that allows me to write certain things with a little bit of extra authority. I know what it’s like to be a starchy, 6-foot-1, 185-pound white guy walking into a housing project in Newark. I know how people reacted to me and how it made me feel. And I can put some of those feelings into Carter.

Gar: You’ve been writing full-time, away from the daily grind of the newspaper racket, for a while now.  Besides the occasional threat of a libel suit, what do you miss most about your former occupation?

Brad: Without question, going into the newsroom. Up until the industry totally imploded, your typical American newsroom was the greatest working environment in the world. It was full of bright, witty, irreverent, malcontented people, many of whom ended up working for newspapers because they were incapable of coexisting with polite society. Collectively, they were experts on just about everything – and yet nothing at all – and there was always someone around who could give you an education on any topic that interested you. There was a lot of yelling, some seriously off-color jokes, and we could have all sued each other for sexual harassment ten times over. Yet, every day, we managed to overcome all that dysfunction just long enough to put out a newspaper. It was a great place to grow up.

Gar: In your three novels to date, Carter Ross is surrounded by a cast of colorful, amusing secondary characters.  Tommy Hernandez, a gay, Cuban intern at the paper for which Carter works, is a prime example.  If you could sit down for lunch with all of Carter’s people, would you pick up the check or insist on dutch?

No, no, just joking.  Here’s the real question: Who among these fictional characters would you most like to have a long, heart-to-heart with, and why?

Brad: I reserve the right to change this answer depending on my mood. But at this very moment, I’d say Buster Hays – the cranky, cantankerous old newsroom salt with the four Rolodexes full of sources. Buster is one of those guys who have a million stories, but he won’t just volunteer them. You have to ask him. Oh, and making sure he’s well-watered with Scotch doesn’t hurt.

Gar: Another great supporting character in your books is Carter’s boss Tina Thompson, a smoking hot city-editor who’s constantly trying to get Carter between the sheets.  Aside from your wife, if you could have any one woman in the world desire your flesh as desperately as Tina does Carter’s, who would it be?

Brad: Gar, you must have one of those open marriages – y’know, the kind Newt Gingrich supposedly wanted from his second and/or third wife (I can’t keep Newt’s wives straight). Being as I do not have one of those marriages, there’s no way I’m answering this question. Because my wife never reads any of the stuff I put online. But you just know if I answered this question, this would be the one thing that would somehow end up in front of her eyes.

(Okay, okay, fine. My wife knows anyway: Taylor Swift. Throw me in jail if you want to. But she is over 18 now. And she’s also the most talented and beautiful woman in the world – other than my wife, of course).

Gar: Over the course of a long career as an investigative journalist, you must have had a close scrape or two with some angry people.  Any near-death experiences you’d like to share here?

Brad: Most of the people who threatened to kill me were really just blowing off steam (obviously, because I’m still here). But there was this one time… I was doing an investigative piece about doping in horseracing and I had been trailing this one trainer from his barn down in Freehold, New Jersey to the Meadowlands Racetrack up in the northern part of the state. I had been told the cheaters often pulled off the New Jersey Turnpike just before they got to the track and treated their horses on the side of the road (because once they reached the track, they had to put their horses in the detention barn, where the horses were put under watch). Sure enough, I saw this guy veer over to the side of the Turnpike. I watched him go into his trailer for a few minutes then get back on the road. When he got to the track, I followed him into the paddock area, then hopped out of my car and asked him, point blank, what he had been doing. Things got pretty heated pretty fast. He kept saying, “I’ll kill you . . .  I’ll kill you. . .” and then added that lovely caveat, “I’m going to find out where you live.” (He later called me up, apologized, and said he had pulled over because of engine trouble).

Gar: When Jen Forbus asked readers of Jen’s Book Thoughts last year to name their favorite amateur sleuth of all time, your man Carter Ross beat out 63 other contenders to win the title.  Putting aside the fact that the final showdown matched a 30 year old man in the peak of health against a woman who could be his grandmother—Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple—why do you think Carter won?

Brad: Easy. Agatha Christie isn’t on Twitter. Some folks were a little incredulous about that result – one guy from New Zealand suggested I must have stuffed the ballot box – but it was completely legit (I mean, c’mon, you think Jen would allow cheating?). Fact is, Carter put a hurting on that ol’ bat Marple because I was able to muster a get-out-the-vote effort on social media. That’s politics, baby: It’s not the will of the people that counts, it’s the will of the people who actually take the trouble to vote.

Gar: I have a real fascination with plagiarism and the people who engage in it.  If you could steal from any one author, alive or dead, without fear of ever getting caught, who would it be?

Brad: I rank plagiarists only slightly ahead of people who trip old ladies as they cross the street. Maybe behind. (After all, old ladies eventually heal). And as a journalist, plagiarism has always baffled me. All you have to do is add “it’s like so-and-so once said…” and then you can lift anything you want. Why not just give credit where it’s due?

But to play along with the question, I would probably reach into some of John D. MacDonald’s classics and start transcribing. Maybe an exchange between Travis McGee and Meyer. Maybe one of McGee’s great rants. Some of them are a little dated – and his sensibilities about women could probably use some modernizing – but a lot of it is still just great stuff.

Gar: I’m a devoted subscriber to The Los Angeles Times and you’re an ex-newspaper man.  In 100 words or less, make your best case for why people in this electronic age should still read newspapers in hardcopy form.

Brad: Because The Times would be dead in three weeks if they didn’t (that’s 12 words, if you’re counting). Newspapers continue to have a terrible time monetizing their digital content. The bulk of their revenue still comes from the print product. I’m making up these numbers, but as a print subscriber, you’re worth, say, a dollar to The Times in advertising revenues. As a web-only reader, you’re worth about five cents. But don’t get me started on this subject, because I’ll get wound up for a lot more than 100 words.

Gar: My affection for memorable, original titles—and contempt for monosyllabic, ubiquitous ones—is legendary here at Murderati.  Fortunately for us both, I think the titles of all your novels—FACES OF THE GONE, EYES OF THE INNOCENT, and your latest, THE GIRL NEXT DOOR—are quite good.  Are unique, evocative titles important to you, as well, or were these three just a fluke?  (Please don’t tell us, for instance, that the working title for Carter Ross #4 is DEADLINE.)

Brad: I didn’t have that pet peeve until now. But I think I like it. Can I adopt it? (Don’t worry, I know how you feel about plagiarism – I’ll quote you when I do it). I’m glad to hear my titles meet your high standards, because I actually feel like I struggle mightily with them. I give my editor, Kelley Ragland at Minotaur, a long list of possibilities. She bounces it off this cabal of editors and marketing people – a group I think of as the “they” in “that’s what they say” – and then she comes back to me with what “they” have decided. I’m usually just relieved to have it over with. (Carter Ross No. 4 is currently THE GOOD COP, by the way… you like?)

Gar: In your new book THE GIRL NEXT DOOR, the obituary of a young woman who died delivering copies of the New Jersey newspaper Carter works for, The Newark Eagle-Examiner, inspires him to do a personal interest piece that, quite naturally, turns into a murder investigation.

If you could write Carter’s obituary yourself when the time comes to put him down (unless you’d like some hack hired by your estate to continue his adventures after you’ve passed on), what would it sound like?

Brad: I’m rather fond of Carter. And I’d like to give him a good send-off. So let’s go with:

Carter Ross of Bloomfield died yesterday when, while having rigorous sex with an intern, one of his eight Pulitzer Prizes fell off a shelf and knocked him unconscious. He was 107.

Gar: Finally, your books have received starred reviews from Booklist and Library Journal.  Harlan Coben called your first novel, FACES OF THE GONE, a “terrific debut,” and Michael Connelly wrote that EYES OF THE INNOCENT “is the complete package.”

All of which begs the obvious question: What the hell does Lee Child have against you?

Brad: I think he’s threatened by my sales figures. But I keep telling him: Don’t worry, Lee. Good things’ll happen for you. Just keep plugging.

New Light Through Old Windows

Zoë Sharp

It’s my great pleasure to welcome Timothy Hallinan to Murderati for today’s Wildcard. Tim is an Edgar and Macavity nominee and writes some of the most elegant prose I’ve come across. I was honoured when he swapped e-book excerpts with me last year.

The advent of e-publishing has allowed Tim to relaunch his original Los Angeles PI Simeon Grist series, including this, the sixth and final title, THE BONE POLISHER. Booklist urged readers to “Do yourself a favor and read it!” while Mostly Murder called it “Creepy and screamingly funny.”

The book takes place in the West Hollywood of 1995, where the community is shaken by the brutal killing of an older man who was widely loved for his generosity and kindness. In a time when the police were largely indifferent to crimes against gay people, Simeon is hired to catch the murderer—and finds himself up against the most dangerous adversary of his career.

As always with Tim’s writing, I savoured his descriptions, dialogue, characterisation and turns of phrase in this book. If you haven’t discovered Timothy Hallinan yet, you’re missing a real treat.

Zoë Sharp: You wrote the Simeon Grist series in the early 1990s, and I know the order of publication was not the order in which you actually wrote the books, so tell us what happened there? And what complications arose from this, in terms of ongoing character development?

Timothy Hallinan:  Dutton bought the first book to be written, SKIN DEEP, and offered me a three-book contract about a week after I finished writing it.  The sale sort of lit me on fire and I knocked out the second, THE FOUR LAST THINGS, in about three months [Erm, he means ‘carefully and agonisingly handcrafted it’, ZS] and sent it in, having no idea how slowly publishers worked.  They preferred THE FOUR LAST THINGS and changed the order.  Then, before  FOUR LAST came out, I sent them EVERTHING BUT THE SQUEAL, and they decided they liked that better than SKIN DEEP, too, so SQUEAL came out second and SKIN DEEP third.   Funny thing is, when I read these books all this time later, SKIN DEEP is one of the best. 

Zoë Sharp: And what complications arose from that, in terms of ongoing character development?

Timothy Hallinan: I intentionally entangled Simeon in a somewhat static relationship, a long-term estrangement, because I didn’t want too much development in that area, and I didn’t know enough to make my other characters change from book to book.  (These books were written through imitation and sheer chutzpah.)  The only real oddity in sequence is that, in the order in which the books were published, Simeon meets in the third book a woman he’s sleeping with in the first.

Zoë Sharp: Your series characters go by the highly memorable names of Simeon Grist, Junior Bender and Poke Rafferty. Where did you find such wonderful names for them?

Timothy Hallinan:  I always think they’re just regular names and later ask myself what I’d been smoking.  Actually, that’s only partially true; I was reading a ton of stuff on early Christianity when I started the Simeon books and named him after a favourite saint, Simeon Stylites, who spent the last 37 years of his life standing on an ancient pillar in the Syrian desert.  As if that weren’t enough, he wouldn’t allow any woman anywhere near his pillar.  When he got sores on his legs and the sores developed maggots, he would encourage the maggots, saying “Eat, little ones, what God has provided you,” or words to that effect.  I thought that was a little stiff, and he came to embody for me Santayana’s famous definition of a fanatic as someone who redoubles his efforts when he’s forgotten his aims. 

So I was being pretentious when I named Simeon and later found that most readers pronounced it “Simon” anyway.

Zoë Sharp: I particularly loved the title for this book, THE BONE POLISHER. How did that come about?

Timothy Hallinan:  When members of the Chinese diaspora, in the early days, had the misfortune to die in whatever country they had emigrated to, they were buried where they died.  A generation or two later, the now-prosperous family would pay to have the bones disinterred, cleaned, polished, and sent to China for permanent burial in The Middle Kingdom.  The specialist who did this was called a bone polisher.  In the book, the killer puts a malign twist on this,  He kills men who came to West Hollywood from small towns where they lived closeted lives, and each time he murders one, he sends evidence of his victim’s “deviancy” back to the town from which he came.  (This was in 1995, when, arguably, a much higher percentage of gay people were in the closet.)  So in this case, it’s the dead person’s reputation that’s returned—with the goal of destroying it.

Zoë Sharp: I’m always interested in the underlying theme of a book. What theme was in your mind when you wrote THE BONE POLISHER?

 

[Tim with Brett Battles, working hard …]

Timothy Hallinan: I’d been writing about a character—Simeon—for five years at that point, and he was a sort of idealized version of me: braver, more resourceful, wittier, better-looking, and much more interesting.  And I decided to see what would happen if he were actually like me, which was to say weary of the way his life was going, uncertain about his skills and abilities, and suddenly very sensibly afraid of the people he was going after.   How would those things affect his picture of who he was?  How would they affect his chosen career?  And I decided, if I was going to write about that, to put him up against someone who was really, genuinely, bone-marrow evil.  The kid—the Farm Boy—who’s going after the gay men in this book is one of the worst people my imagination has ever offered up to me.  And I thought the idea of killing a victim twice—first the body and then the reputation—was worthy of someone so dreadful. 

Zoë Sharp: You mention in your preface to THE BONE POLISHER that it was written at a different time – a time when AIDS was usually a death sentence. If you were writing this book from scratch today, what differences would that make to the way you tell the story?

Timothy Hallinan:  The AIDS aspect of the book was inescapable then; it would have been impossible to write with any accuracy about that community without AIDS being a major concern.  It’s still a concern, obviously, but one that millions of people are quite literally living with.  Christopher Nordine, who hires Simeon at the beginning of the book, knows he has only a short time to live, and this consciousness informs some of what he does.  These days, it’s unlikely the disease would have been allowed to progress so far unchecked.

Zoë Sharp: I thoroughly enjoyed THE BONE POLISHER—the descriptions are just wonderful, like this:

‘Drive-time disk jockeys, preternaturally alert guys who couldn’t have passed for wits in a gathering of battery-powered appliances, made smutty jokes and played twenty-year-old music to ease the world into the gray disappointment of another day.’

But how hard was it to republish a novel you’d written in 1995? Inevitably you must feel that you and your writing have come a long way since then, so how much fiddling and rewriting did you do to it?

Timothy Hallinan:  I actually hated the book in retrospect.  It had failed to win me an extension on my contract, and I remembered it with no fondness at all.  In fact, I hesitated to put it up, primarily because I didn’t want to have to read it.  I finally did it because I kept getting emails from Simeon’s few but fanatic followers, asking where the hell it was.  And when I read it, it sort of knocked my socks off—it was much better than I’d feared it would be. 

I pretty much left it alone.  I had a couple of mistakes of fact in it, and I fixed those, but otherwise, with the exception of clarifying a few pronouns, I did virtually nothing to it.  One of my favourite descriptive passages in the book is right after the one you quoted, something about dawn coming up hard and wet, two fingers of vodka in the eastern sky.  (I haven’t looked, so if that’s from a different book, I’m sorry.) 

I hope my writing has come a long way.  There are few things more complicated than the smile on the face of a writer who’s just heard, “But you know what?  I really like your first book best.”

Zoë Sharp: I was fascinated by the Finish Your Novel page on your website. What inspired you to produce such a comprehensive guide for would-be writers?

Timothy Hallinan:   As I said, I wrote the first ones with no idea what I was doing, and as I figured out what worked for me I began to make notes.  I knew I wanted my website to be more than “Here’s me.  Buy my books,” so the first thing I wrote was the Finish Your Novel section.  It’s been used by literally hundreds of writers and some of them have gone on to be published and have thanked me in their books—I get a nice thank-you in Helen Simonson’s MAJOR PETTIGREW’S LAST STAND, for example.

Zoë Sharp: I’m always interested in the form a writer uses to tell their story. You classify the Simeon Grist and Junior Bender novels as mysteries. Both are written in first-person, past tense. But the Poke Raffety books you describe as thrillers. These are in third-person, present tense. The choice for third-person in a thriller is entirely understandable, because you so often need to show that race against time by letting the reader know what else is going on, but why the change to present tense? And which do you enjoy more?

Timothy Hallinan:  I think of both the Simeon and Poke books as private-eye novels, and the great thing about first-person is that you encounter the mystery exactly as the detective does, whereas I think third-person works better for thrillers so you can hop on over and see what the bad guys are up to or check out how the screws are being tightened.

I went to present-tense in my first draft of the first Poke, A NAIL THROUGH THE HEART, as an experiment and found that I really liked it.  Past-tense implies that someone –the narrator, if no one else—lived to tell the story, whereas present tense sort of rolls by in real time.  I also think that action scenes can be written with great immediacy in present tense.

I like them both, but switching back and forth from book to book is a major pain in the ass.  Whole pages slip by in the wrong tense.

Zoë Sharp: You’re working on another Simeon Grist novel at the moment. What’s made you decide to return to that character after a break – will you age him or start where you left off? And what’s it about?

Timothy Hallinan: People have written to me for years to ask whether I was ever going to bring him back.  I decided, now that he’s out of print and remaindered, that it might be fun to ask myself where fictional detectives go when the last copy of the last printing of their last book gets pulped—when they are, effectively, out of print.  So I figured it out, and Simeon now resides in a sort of limbo, along with a lot of other out-of-print detectives.  It’s a relatively shabby, genre limbo; the Literary Fiction Limbo is much more upscale and has better weather.  Simeon is paralytic with boredom; his only connection to the “real” world is when someone opens one of the old, used copies of one of his books.  When that happens, Simeon can see them through the window of his Topanga house.  And one day, he’s watching someone read him—looking up at the person, as it were, from the page—when his reader is murdered.  He doesn’t have enough readers to spare any, and he resolves to solve the crime.  Problem is, it happened down here.  So, anyway, it’s called PULPED, and I think a lot of hard-core mystery writers will just hate it, although I laughed myself stupid writing it.

Thanks for all these great questions, Zoë.  Hope I didn’t rattle on too long.

Zoë Sharp: Tim, it’s always a pleasure talking to you. As well as Tim’s series books, it’s also worth mentioning that he’s also been involved in two special project. One is his contribution to BANGKOK NOIR, edted by Christopher G Moore, a collection of stories with part of the proceeds going to a charity for Bangkok’s poorest children.

The other is SHAKEN, a collection by twenty mystery writers, edited by and including Tim, who donated their work to benefit the 2011 Japan Relief Fund. Every penny of the purchase price goes to the fund.

So, ‘Rati, let’s hear your questions for Timothy Hallinan …

The pleasure of the new

by Pari

The other day one of my daughters and I were in the car when an astounding song came on the radio. Something about this piece managed to penetrate the whoosh of air from an open window and to halt what had been an interesting conversation. My daughter and I looked at each other and reached for the volume control at the same time. This song was special  — utterly different than anything we’d ever heard before — and we didn’t want to miss the moment.

I’ve been thinking lately about conventions in one’s life, not the kind a person goes to, but the kind he or she lives by.  Whether it be traditional structures such as the number of syllables per line in haiku or the conventions around what it means to be a single woman in her fifties, I’ve been watching and thinking, observing rather than coming to particular conclusions.

Perhaps because I’m a writer (or perhaps I’m a writer because of this) I adore learning. And the more something butts against my assumptions, the more interesting I find it. What I love about “The Wind is Getting Stronger,” and movies such as Happy, Happy is that they combine elements that I never knew could be combined. In the case of the song, it’s Kletzmer, Latin rhythms, folk music and an oral narrative about a topic people just don’t sing about in that way. In Happy, Happy, it’s the exploration of love, family, enslavement, and a quartet of mainly expressionless Norwegian men singing gospel music a la blue grass (I think). In Caramel, a movie from Lebanon, it’s the window into life in modern Beirut and the way young and older women navigate expectations of love and obligation in a world different — but not nearly as different as I assumed — as the one in which I and my daughters live. I also loved the way French was interspersed with the Arabic; I understood more of the language than I expected.

And, to top off this invigorating time, I’m reading The Book Thief which is an extraordinary literary accomplishment that, to me, defies so many expectations and rules it’s astounding the thing got published (I could say the same thing about Spiegleman’s Maus books).

Conventions are, at times, incredibly useful. They abbreviate the need to learn every single thing anew every single time. They create a common social language so we know how to live with each other. But like old work attire, conventions can lose their utility and become confining or even embarrassing. One of the pleasures of my life at this moment is that I’m searching out and embracing moments of newness, of learning and seeing the world in a different light. Delight is coming in unexpected places:

songs that meld, mesh and break rules and work precisely because they do

movies that challenge expectations through their internal integrity rather than through pushy intent

books that provide a reading experience– through the story told and the way in which it’s expressed —  that is truly different from anything I’ve hitherto encountered.

What about you? Is there a piece of art — music, movie, lit, visual — that has given you the same frisson of joy with its astounding freshness?

NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE ALONG…

 

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

My Wild Card Tuesday interview with film director Kevin Lewis this week emphasized the fact that a screenwriter more often than not has to rewrite his work based on elements completely out of his control. Like new story comments provided by the myriad of producers involved in a project, or the actors, or the director, or financiers. A character becomes young or old and changes race or sex depending on what actor receives the submission, and that often depends on the relationships the producers have with the kind of talent that can green-light a film.

A screenwriter has to be prepared to work in a new idea at a moment’s notice, and that means tossing out previous story points that don’t gel organically with the new material. Often, to make a new idea work, old ideas must be excised. Completely. A favorite scene or piece of dialogue suddenly doesn’t belong, and it’s not going to belong, no matter how you try to justify it. When you leave these bits of tissue on the bone you create a Frankenstein from the cannibalized parts of incompatible monsters.

But this isn’t restricted to screenwriting alone. We go through the same process with our novels. Sometimes we get into the last third of our book and realize that a major plot point doesn’t work. We have to establish something new and rework it, thread-by-thread, from the very beginning. And we know what needs to be done. We might not want to toss the good stuff, but the fact is, it’s no longer relevant. Sometimes, as they say, we have “to kill our babies.”

Sure, we can fool ourselves for a while. As long as the manuscript stays in our hands, we can assume it’s perfect. That’s why we need trusted readers to tell us the truth. People who aren’t tied to previous incarnations of the story. People who can say, “Why did your character do or say THAT?” If our answer is something like, “Well, you see, in an earlier draft I had this hot air balloon fall on his house, and I liked the way he always looked for things to fall from the sky after that, and…” then you know you’re holding onto something that has no place in the new story you’ve chosen to tell.

Of course, if you really love something and can find a way to work it in organically, go for it. But, more often than not, it’s a brush-stroke meant for a painting that doesn’t exist.

I’m thinking about these things because I’m doing another pass on GRINDER, probably the final pass before the script goes back to actors. This draft addresses feedback we’ve received about elements that make the story confusing to the reader. And there is one fundamental story point that I’ve always loved, but it has managed to polarize the people who champion the project. There’s a change I’ve wanted to avoid making, but now that the success of the project hangs in the balance, I’ve had to find a way to make the change in a way that benefits the story. And what I’ve discovered in the process is that the new change strengthens the story’s themes and helps create a stronger resolution.

Once the decision was made, it became necessary for me to put the old subplot out of my head. Eliminate it from my thoughts. The director–Kevin–and I both loved the old subplot, but we also see the need to sacrifice it for the greater good of the story. The only thing left for us to do was to accept our loss and MOVE ON. Because what’s ahead is actually better, as long as we don’t try to force old story elements into the new idea. I’ve done that before with GRINDER, incorporating scenes from previous drafts, scenes that everyone liked and wanted to see realized, and it didn’t work. Each major rewrite required that I reinvent the story, and, in doing so, old scenes had to be tossed. And only then did the script begin to take shape.

What’s great is that the story is strong enough to adjust to the changes. The new ideas don’t deter from the story’s themes, but strengthen them. Stripping out the previous subplot helped identify a larger problem, and the new ideas helped solve it.

It’s amazing how things really aren’t done until they’re done. It’s true, I jump through fewer hoops when I’m writing novels. But that’s not necessarily a good thing. GRINDER has benefited from the many eyes that have scanned its pages. But my willingness to listen, borne from years of receiving project notes on dozens of writing projects, combined with my experience on the other side, as a development executive, is the key element that keeps me attached to the project on the one hand, and helps me to improve it, on the other.

In the end, the reader/viewer won’t miss the missing scenes. They don’t know what existed before. What they’ll see is a finished product, and it will either work or it won’t.

So, there’s really nothing to see here. Best just to move along…

Plucked From the Ether

Zoë Sharp

“Where do you get your ideas?”

It’s a question that crops up at almost every reader event I do as an author, in one form or another.

Interestingly enough, I don’t hear it quite so much at events where there are a lot of would-be writers. Maybe that’s because all writers feel they should know where to get their ideas, and admitting that sometimes the store cupboard runs a little bare is akin to an admission of failure.

I’ve heard all kinds of answers from authors, too, varying from “Plots-R-Us.com” to “Walmart”, and although these may sound unduly flippant, probably the truth is that most writers don’t actually know, and they’re worried that if they try to analyse it too much, the magic will somehow disappear. Ideas just … arrive. It’s like trying to remember an obscure fact that you know is tucked away somewhere in a recess of your memory. You try and avoid thinking about it, and suddenly up it pops, but you’ve no clue how it got there.

For me, ideas really are a state of mind.

At the library event I did last week I used my New Car analogy when it came to where ideas come from, and received a few puzzled looks until I expanded on this theory.

So you decide you’re going to buy a new car – doesn’t have to be new new, just new to you. And as soon as you’re behind the wheel suddenly it seems that everyone on the road is driving the same kind of car, possibly even in the very same colour. You see them everywhere. This doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s been a rush on that particular model. In fact, I’d hazard a guess that they were probably always out there. It was simply that you didn’t notice them before.

Your eyes may have been open, but your mind wasn’t.

It’s exactly the same with being a writer and having ideas for stories. They’re out there. All the time. They’re floating in the ether, whispering at you from magazines, newspapers, the radio, TV, and the internet. It’s a babble of voices that sometimes makes it hard to hear when people speak, and explains the distracted frown that writers tend to wear a lot of the time. It’s the reason we wake in the night and scrabble for pen and paper from the bedside table, or seriously consider hanging a Chinagraph pencil in the shower so you can scribble vital notes on the glass screen without having to get out first.

Our brains are being constantly bombarded with sensory information and most people learn to filter out the background chatter to avoid being completely overwhelmed. Writers lack part of that filtering system, I think. We get everything, good and bad, the nuggets and the spoil.

The difficult part is working out which is which and turning it into something coherent.

Mind you, right from the moment Charlie Fox arrived in my mind, I knew I’d be a fool to ignore her. Besides anything else, she probably would have broken my arms and legs if I’d tried. 

When I look back at the books I’ve written so far in the series, the strongest are always the ones that sprang from the simplest ideas. I also like to turn things around on people, so that what they expect is not always what they get. Hence writing about Northern Ireland without paramilitary action, and taking a very different slant on a California cult.

For her latest outing, FIFTH VICTIM, the story kicked off with the idea of loss, and what that means to different people. How you don’t appreciate what you have until you’re faced with losing everything, and the effect that has on Charlie and on the people she’s tasked to protect. Who has the most to lose, I wondered? The people who apparently have it all.

If I’m honest I have to say I don’t know where the initial idea came from. It floated past me one day and I was lucky enough to grab it and hold on tight.

But once I’d got my grubby little mitts on it, I nailed it down and started to play with it – although not in a nasty serial-killer kind of way … I simply wrote down each development as it occurred to me, and then played the ‘what if’ game, jotting down all kinds of possible outcomes and scenarios until eventually the whole thing more or less came together.

So, ‘Rati, where do YOU get your ideas? And what’s the best basic idea for a book or movie you’ve come across? Note I said  ‘idea’ – the execution didn’t have to live up to the premise. Although, if it didn’t why not?

I’ve been lucky enough to have been invited to contribute to some great blogs over the past week. Hope you’ll take the time to check them out, if you feel so inclined:

Elizabeth A White’s blog

FIFTH VICTIM pg 69 test

Writers Read

And My Book, The Movie

This week’s Word of the Week is chorizont, or chorizonist, meaning a person who disputes the identity of authorship, especially one who ascribes the Iliad and Odyssey to different authors. From the Greek chorizon, separating.

Next Tuesday is my Wildcard day. I was lucky enough to catch up with the highly acclaimed Timothy Hallinan to talk about the e-book publication of the latest in his Simeon Grist mystery series. Don’t miss it!

Get Well, Daniel Woodrell

By David Corbett

Daniel Woodrell goes in for surgery today to repair a shoulder that never healed right after a nasty accident while gigging for suckers on the Current River with celebrity gourmand Anthony Bourdain.

Reports are varied and contradictory, but from what I can piece together from reports I’ve heard or read, it appears that, while in the boat at night on the river, Bourdain went for a fish and his spear caught in a low-hanging branch that snapped back with thunder-crack velocity, knocking out the boat’s lights and generator and planting Daniel face-first in the bottom of the boat. In the darkness, calling out for Daniel but getting no response, everyone feared he’d been thrown overboard—worse, that he was drowning somewhere under the tumbling current. When the lights came back on the film crew spotted Daniel helpless at their feet, unconscious with a broken shoulder, and sped him to a hospital.

The repair work proved inadequate, shall we say. Daniel now faces a bi-planar osteotomy at the Mayo Clinic, to be followed by two months in an immobilizer and rehab for the rest of the year. How far has Anthony Bourdain set back the progress of American letters? We shall see. Apparently he felt terrible about the accident at the time—Daniel is one of his favorite writers, he says—but those TV personalities move swiftly on, running to the next gig, as it were. (Shortly after the accident, Bourdain was in Naples, where he was having “a very good time.”)

If for some reason you don’t know who Daniel Woodrell is—shudder the thought—let me introduce you to one of the finest writers of our generation. I doubt I can say anything of general interest that isn’t said better in this interview with Craig McDonald for the Mulholland Books website.

For a taste of Daniel’s writing, you can start with this remarkable short story, “Night Stand,” that appeared in Esquire. It’s included in the collection The Outlaw Album that came out last year. I’d say I recommend it, but that doesn’t get halfway near how I feel about the matter. Daniel is one of very few writers I can honestly say that I’ll read anything to which he’s attached his name, and I routinely hand over my dog-eared copy of Tomato Red to friends who’ve yet to enjoy his work, saying, “Trust me, you’ll love this,” and they always do.

Two of his books have been made into films: Woe to Live On, perhaps my favorite of Daniel’s novels, adapted by Ang Lee into Ride with the Devil; and Winter’s Bone, a remarkable film based on a breathtaking novel, each unique in its own way, each unforgettable.

Saul Bellow is rumored to have said that a writer is a reader inspired to emulation. Well, I can attest that reading Daniel’s work has driven me to be a better scribbler. I know I can’t equal his language—Daniel is a stylist of the first order, by which I mean the prose serves story perfectly, exquisitely—but I can strive to match his honesty, his attention to detail, his sense of rhythm and his knowledge of the human animal. I want to reach within and write from the place where his words have landed and lingered. In a way, I think I need to. I’ll feel small somehow if I don’t.

Here’s to a successful surgery and a quick convalescense. May the bones set right and the healing begin. Somebody bring the whiskey.

If you’d like to wish Daniel well, or let him know how much you enjoy his books, please leave a comment. I’ll be passing this link along for him to enjoy once the anaesthesia wears off.

And if you’d like to share a story of a wonderful outing gone wickedly wrong, that might put a smile on his face. Misery loving company and all that.

* * * * *

Jukebox Hero of the Week: Seems appropriate that we should tap into the old-time music that appeared on the Winter’s Bone soundtrack, particularly this haunting number, “Hardscrabble Elegy,” by Dickon Hinchliffe:

INTERVIEW WITH FILM DIRECTOR KEVIN LEWIS

 

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

Last year I had the great opportunity to meet and befriend the talented, young film director Kevin Lewis (click to view his reel).  Kevin is the creator of GRINDER, the screenplay I was employed to write. It will be the eighth feature film Kevin has directed.

Originally from Denver, Colorado, Kevin’s early film efforts earned him a scholarship to the famed school of cinema at USC. While there he interned with such established entertainment heavies as film directors John McTiernan and Renny Harlin and producer Lynda Obst. Kevin’s first feature film after college, THE METHOD (starring Sean Patrick Flanery, Robert Forster and Natasha Gregson Wagner) was picked up for distribution by Showcase Entertainment at the Slamdance Film Festival.

His next directorial effort, DOWNWARD ANGEL starring Matt Schulze from “The Fast and the Furious,” was picked up by Blockbuster Video and continues to do well in home video and pay TV.

Over the next few years Kevin directed numerous known actors, such as John Savage, Sean Young, Charles Dutton, Jake Muxworthy and Chloe Moretz, in the films THE DROP, DARK HEART, and THE THIRD NAIL.

Kevin currently works with the 3D film conversion company, Venture 3D, located on the Sony Lot in Los Angeles. The company takes traditional two-dimensional film and converts it to 3D using a unique filmic approach that was first designed for medical and military applications. Among others, Venture 3D converted the film PRIEST and is currently converting James Cameron’s TITANIC. HyperEmotive Films is Venture 3D’s sister company, created to produce original motion picture content. GRINDER is a HyperEmotive Film.

In working with Kevin I discovered that we are built from the same stuff. We were weened on the films of the 1970s. Most of our filmic references go back to scenes from Taxi Driver, Apocalypse Now, Midnight Cowboy, Marathon Man, Three Days of the Condor, Dog Day Afternoon, The Godfather…we both agree that films from that era had guts and told stories that Hollywood is unwilling to tell today. Unwilling, or maybe unable to recognize the value. It’s a discussion we have almost every week, and it bonds us.

SS: So, first off, Kevin, thank you for joining us here at Murderati. While all of us are authors, most of us are also big film buffs, and some of us write or have written screenplays professionally. So, there’s quite an interest in learning how you do what you do. To begin with, I’d like to know your opinion of the state of affairs in Hollywood now. Why aren’t they making films like the ones we love, from back in the day? How has Hollywood changed?

KL: Thanks for having me here, Stephen. First off, things just aren’t that good in the biz. I think Hollywood wants to play it safe right now. In the 70’s nobody played it safe, the filmmakers (movie brats) were willing to explore, they wanted to kick out the old guard and take over, and that is what they did. Now, the same movie brats are the ones who have grown complacent. When I hear things about Spielberg, how when he was young he wanted to shoot on location and now he just wonders what hotel room he will get next to the filming location, well, that says it all. We have George Lucas directing in an air conditioned room with thousands of CGI artists around him making a prequel trilogy that pales in comparison to the original.

The executives who run the studios want trans-media properties (ips that cross platform to video games, comic books, etc), they are more interested in “branding” than original content. We have movies that cost over $200m, based on the board games “Battleship” (which, check me if I am wrong, never had aliens in it), “Candyland” and “Monopoly”. Every comic book has either been made or is going to be made into a movie. I think the Hollywood execs have grown up in a pop culture world and this is all they know. I blame a lot of this on the success of blockbuster films like “Star Wars”. And I blame myself as well, for supporting the marketing campaigns that built the blockbusters. I was raised on Lucas/Spielberg films, and I collected the toys (still do), but once it all became about toys it was the end of the creativity. Because now you have marketing execs calling the shots. Last summer there were movies in the theatre that had the number 5 in the title. Studios care more about sequels and prequels than original material.

I also think that in the past we had creative execs who actually understood the creative process or were creative themselves. But now Hollywood has been invaded by MBAs and they do not understand or even want to understand the creative process. We have studio execs that are former agents (how scary is that?) and they have figured out a way to make sure they are “locked” in, even if a movie tanks. The MBA makes sure he gets paid.

And the foreign box office has made things worse because now everything has been converted to “genres,” since genres play cross-platform. A producer once told me that “dialogue is hard to understand in foreign countries, but a bullet speaks a thousand words.” That’s a pretty scary statement.

SS: I find it interesting that you’ve embraced 3D. I saw some footage of the work you’ve done at Venture 3D and it blew my mind. I saw scenes from what looked like a Merchant-Ivory film, it was a period drama, and it felt like I was walking the halls of the film’s castle myself.

KL: 3D stereoscopic is a great opportunity for filmmakers to make their movies more immersive. I like to call it “Story-scopic”, because the 3D has to service the story, and you need to make a good 2D movie first and then accentuate it with the 3D. 3D allows the filmmaker to bring the audience in to their world and make the movie more of an “experience” than just watching a movie. And in this day and age, where you have everything trying to grab the attention of the viewer from Netflix, xbox, ipad, etc., you need to make 3D a motion picture event. If you do it right that’s what it can be – an event.

SS: We authors often talk about how difficult it is for us to write and finish our novels while juggling the responsibilities of having day jobs, families and various other commitments. However, all a writer needs is a pen and paper to practice his craft. A film director needs a crew of fifty and a few hundred thousand dollars, just to start. How do you stay on top of your game? How does a film director practice his craft?

KL: It starts with story, story, story. You have to work on the story whether you wrote it yourself or worked with a writer. Then it becomes about the mechanics, “How do I breathe life into this and make it a reality?” You have to break down the budget and figure out your resources. I am from the Spike Lee school “By Any Means Necessary” and sometimes that’s what it takes. You can also read about directors, producers, and writers. Read scripts, listen to commentaries from people behind the scenes, from directors, producers, writers or other craftsmen. Now technology is really cheap, you can get yourself an HD 1080p camera to shoot and a lap top with Final Cut Pro and you can make your own movie, or just experiment. Practice, practice, practice equates to shoot, shoot, shoot. James Cameron said “The artist should not go to technology, the technology should come to the artist”.

My first feature I had to beg, borrow and steal and I shot on 35mm and used a moviola to cut. Now it would be pretty much all digital for less than half the cost. And that has leveled the playing field. It’s great because technology is at the artist’s fingertips and they can express themselves freely and inexpensively, but it is a determent as well because it has opened the field to pretty much everybody and so the competition is fierce. But I believe if you stick to telling your film YOUR way and use YOUR voice as a filmmaker you will succeed.

SS: By working with you I’ve been impressed with your almost magical ability to turn words into images, or to see images between the lines, so to speak. I feel that I’m a pretty visual person, but you’re a born film director, and it shows. When you read a book, do you always see the movie in your head? How is telling a story in film different from telling it on paper?

KL: Yes, unfortunately I do. My brain constantly charges up a barrage of images. I think and feel visually, always have. Sometimes I wish I could just turn the switch off, but I think it has helped me in this field. Telling a story on film is all about the visuals, that is why film is different from theater and books, it is a director’s medium. The stage is a playwrights medium and novels are the writer’s medium. But even more than that it is a COLLABORATIVE medium. Unlike novels or paintings, making movies means having a lot of chefs in the kitchen (producers, financiers, etc..) and that can make for some interesting dishes. Not all of them taste very good in the end.

SS: The following is a passage that opens one of our fellow Murderati member’s books. How would you shoot the following scene, from CEMETERY ROAD by Gar Anthony Haywood?

Winter, 1979

What I’ve always remembered most about my last day in Los Angeles is the smell of burning tar. A neighbor across the alley from O’s mother’s garage was having his roof redone and the stench of molten tar hung in the air like a hot, black cloud.

“Goddamn, that shit stinks!” R.J. kept saying.

O’ was late as usual and all through the waiting around had R.J. going through Kools like a chocolate junky through Kisses. By the time O’ finally showed up, over forty minutes after the agreed-upon hour, the floor of the garage was littered with butts, R.J. having crushed them underfoot with an animal-like ferocity to assuage his terror.

KL: I see it shot with a desaturated look, reminds me of Altman’s “McCabe and Mrs. Miller” or shot in black and white (A producer/distributor’s worst nightmare unless you are “The Artist”). I see a nice long lens shot, SLOW MO of a paint brush spreading the tar down on the roof, the heat rippling off. Close-ups of cigs being smoked and then put out with R.J.’s dialogue. –very Howard Hawkesque. Then a shot behind the main character, his shoulders filling frame. The smoke back lit as it seeps out on left side of frame. A nice tracking shot when O shows up, tracking over the cigs with a low angle dolly, huge depth of field like Welles’ “Citizen’s Kane”. That’s what comes to mind when I read that paragraph.

SS: Not many people really understand what it takes to get a movie made. This past year I’ve watched you struggle and fight and persevere against enormous odds. It’s kind of like seeing what my book editor goes through when he fights the advertising department to get the book cover I want, then he turns around and fights for marketing dollars so my book gets noticed, and then he fights to get the right blurbs on the cover, and on and on and on. He does all this on top of reading, evaluating and editing my manuscript. What are the “behind the scenes” things you have to do to ensure your vision makes it to the screen? What are the obstacles? How much time do you actually spend directing the movie?

KL: Making a movie is truly like going to war. You need to prep your soldiers for battle. You need to make sure they have food, clothes, weapons and know the battle plan and, more importantly, the exit plan. Making a movie takes probably a year or more of your life. You have 2-3 months for prep, 1-2 months to shoot (unlike Mission Impossible 4 that takes 6 months just to shoot) and 3-4 months for post. That is if you started NOW with money in the bank, a finished script, cast and locations locked and ready to go. But if you are like most indies, then it will take a lot longer than that. The feature I’m doing now has taken 3 years and I have been directing it every day, whether in my head, on paper, on the phone or through the lens.

SS: What do you look for in a story? What are the things that make a screenplay work for you? What are the mistakes you see in unproduced screenplays, time and again?

KL: The first thing I look for is whether I connect with what’s happening on the page. Movies are about people watching people and you need that emotional connection for the truth. The mistakes I see in a lot of screenplays are poor, cliché dialogue, or scenes that don’t really represent how people interact in the real world. The other thing I see are “mash ups,” like “Point Break meets The Artist”. Really? Just because you take two genres and “mash” them up it doesn’t mean it’ll make a good movie. It’s like if you took two foods like pizza and turkey a la king and combined them and made “pizza a la king”, it doesn’t look pretty and it tastes terrible.

SS: What are the challenges you see in adapting novels for the screen? What should authors be doing to make their books more attractive to film makers?

KL: A book is a book and a movie is a movie and they are very different. The book is almost always better than the movie because it allows the reader to picture the world, characters and story themselves rather than being told the story in the director’s voice. You need to take the “essence” of the book, the soul if you will, and start from scratch. Tolkien believed that film could never capture every nuance in fiction, and I think he was right. You have to take the soul and as long as you stay true to the core and spirit, you are on the right path. The writer has to divorce himself from being the author or it is just too painful, because liberties will be taken and your baby will get mauled. In the same way, the writer/director needs to divorce himself as “writer” once he shoots the movie and the director needs to divorce himself as the “On set director” and put on the “editor” hat once the movie is in post. Being a director means you wear many hats and being a successful director means you have to wear those hats very well.

SS: What are your favorite films and who are your favorite film directors, and why?

KL: It used to be “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, but once that shameful debacle called “Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull” came out, I had to cut the ties. Raiders was the first movie that made me understand what a director does, but after Skull my love affair was over. It was a serious break-up so I had to go to my number two movie, which is “2001 A Space Odyssey”. They could never and would never make that movie today. And if they did, the dawn of man sequence would be cut out because the producers, studio and focus test groups would say it was “too slow and nothing ever happens,” and Bowman would be played by George Clooney and Hal would be voiced by Brad Pitt and there would be a huge CGI star child war at the end…anyway 2001 for sure, just because of it’s sheer brilliance and audacity. I have never seen a movie like it. I also love “Apocalypse Now”, “Trainspotting”, “Blade Runner”, “On the Waterfront”, “The Conversation” and “The Godfather”. My favorite directors are Kubrick, because nobody made movies like him and nobody ever will, Peter Weir for the emotional pull that he instills in his stories and characters, Coppola (his early work) for his way of tapping into the human condition and showing the truth. In regards to the modern directors, I love Darren Aronofsky, Christopher Nolan and Danny Boyle.

SS: Christ, Kevin, we have exactly the same taste. “Blade Runner” (the director’s cut), “On the Waterfront” and “The Conversation” are personal favorites of mine.

Now, you’ve been working on GRINDER for years, and you’ve seen it grow from the nugget of an idea into various different screenplays, by a few different writers. What is the development process like for you, as the original writer and the film’s director? Is the film shaping up the way you envisioned?

KL: The development process is hard. You nurture it for so long, envision what it is going to sound, look and feel like and then the rug gets pulled out from under you and you change it because a producer or financier has an idea. So you try to make that work, go back to scratch, start to get excited again, thinking, “Yeah that isn’t a bad idea, yeah it’s better, it works” and you envision the sound, look and feel and…wait, another note. Now we’re going to change the female into a male, and the protagonist is going to be the antagonist…it’s like a merry go round – a battle between art and commerce and unfortunately commerce always wins – it is not show-business, it is business-show.

SS: As you mentioned above, film is a collaborative medium. This is one of the reasons many screenwriters run for the hills to begin writing novels. When I write a screenplay I feel that I am writing an outline for what is ultimately a director’s vision. I feel that this is my role in the process. How do you feel about the collaborative nature of making movies?

KL: If your collaborators share the same vision as you, it can be amazing, if they don’t then yes, get your running shoes on.

SS: What’s next for you, Kevin? Where do you see yourself in five years?

KL: I love working in film. Spielberg said “I dream for a living,” and if I can continue to make a living dreaming then I will be happy. As you know, an artist is rarely happy with himself. He strives for greatness, constantly yearning to do better. I want to continue to grow as an artist. I love working on a story, trying to make it better, more real, more human. In the end if I can make movies that touch people and make them think about the world around them, I think I will have achieved success.

SS: You’re doing it, Kevin, and I’m rooting for you. Thanks for being a good sport and spending a little time with the folks in the audience. We can’t wait to see the fruits of your labor.

What’s sexy?

by Pari

Last week, I was writing a sex scene. It’s a therapeutic activity given my current life circumstances. My protag had, through a variety of totally believable events, been chosen for a reality show dream date with an idolized rock star from her youth, someone who still exuded the hot raw energy that had fueled her fantasies  — and, by default, caused her to date many idiots — through adolescence and early adulthood. There he was, a man who turned out to be a really interesting guy, with a depth no one could’ve suspected. They stood in the entrance to his hotel suite, his lips and warmth breath on her neck bringing back feelings she hadn’t had since before her decades-long, rotten marriage and nasty divorce. (No this isn’t autobiographical.)

And, then, for some reason, she couldn’t go through with it, couldn’t have steamy monkey sex with a man she really wanted.

“What the hell?” I muttered, flabbergasted at this turn of events.

What was the matter with her?  What was the matter with me? Had I turned into a total prude? Granted, the sex scenes I’d written in the past always hinted at lovemaking rather than describing play-by-plays. But was I now incapable of giving my protag the release she needed?

Ah . . . there she continued to stand, trembling and totally confused.

Didn’t she know it would be the best thing for everyone for her to just let go and get to the damn climax?

The poor thing leaned against the wall, her heart breaking with desire, embarrassment  . . . and disappointment at her own inability to surrender.

Then the rock star did something so unexpected, my protag  — and I — were caught off guard. The man who’d had to fight off groupies for most of his life, who’d had relationships with supermodels and megastars, buttoned my heroine’s blouse back up and accepted her in that moment right where she was. No pressure. No anger or frustration. He simply held her and witnessed her feeling what she needed to feel — without judgment or condescension.

And that, my friends, ultimately turned her on more than anything else possibly could.

Of course, after I finished writing the scene  — and drinking a scotch and smoking a cigarette — I started thinking about the nature of sex scenes in books and movies.  

What personal and societal expectations are we setting up with all of these idealized depictions of women falling into men’s arms and being totally fulfilled as if every man is a fabulous lover and every woman is capable of turning off her damn mind? As if one sense takes over so completely we forget the discomforts, awkward positions (ouch!), the weird smells, odd noises. . . . and, often, our self-consciousness.

I’m thinking about all of this too because I recently saw Orgasm, Inc.  (watch the trailer — watch the whole darn film!) and — just as important — I have two adolescent daughters. ‘Nuff said.

But back to the sex scene . . .
Although my protag eventually made love with her date that night; the sex scene wasn’t about sex at all.

It was about acceptance.

 

So here are my questions for today:

Do you read sex scenes or go to movies for them? If so, what do you want out of them?
Can sex scenes not be about sex . . . and still be called “sex scenes?”
Can they still satisfy?

I look forward to reading your answers.