the hometown boogie

by Toni McGee Causey

 

“Where are you from?”

It’s an innocent, easy question, right? Drives me nuts to answer it, and now, it’s just gotten more complicated.

I’m “from” a small town just northeast of Lake Charles, Louisiana (Kinder), if what the questioner wants to know is “where were you born?” But I didn’t live there long. I lived briefly in Lake Charles and then Breau Bridge and then Baton Rouge and then Zachary and then back to Baton Rouge (for a long time) and now, I divide my time between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.

I just say, “Louisiana” to make it easy, but someone always ends up asking questions to try to narrow that down (if they’re from here). 

Less difficult, up until a couple of months ago, was “what’s your hometown?” and that was pretty easy: Baton Rouge. It’s where I’ve lived for 29 years. It’s the home of the LSU Tigers (not that I’ve ever mentioned that here) and there are tons of good people and great food. I lamented to my oldest son, Luke, that there wasn’t that much to do there and he listed off a couple of dozen things that there were to do, from the symphony to the Little Theater productions (which are, frankly, quite good), so I think my only real problem with Baton Rouge is that it’s much easier for me to be a hermit there and not participate. 

The last couple of months, though, we’ve been in New Orleans. The move was supposed to be temporary because it’s work-related, but we do love it here, and after the job is done, who knows? We’re in the Quarter, where it’s almost impossible to be a complete hermit, and that’s even when you’re not into the drinking/night-life. There are several dozen things to do and see all within walking distance, or a very short drive, which is appealing. [Just last Sunday, for example, we had lunch at a local cafe and then wandered down Royal, meandering into art galleries. One of the managers of the galleries showed off some of their very expensive originals that they keep locked in a back room.Carl admired his guitar, and before we knew what was happening, we were seated on a sofa and he was jamming out old Johnny Cash songs, playing for us like we were a room of a thousand: so much energy and enthusiasm, and talent, and when it was over, it felt like an event.]

Most of the locals don’t really hang out at the Quarter, unless they live here (like us), so you get a pretty fun assortment of tourists from all over the world. It’s a fascinating cross-section for a people-watcher/writer, and fun for eavesdropping for ideas. (Oh, the ideas….)

What I like best about the Quarter, though, is not the noise or the food or the architecture – well, it’s all of those things combined – but what I like best are the very early mornings when dawn is cracking open the sky over the old buildings, some which have been here since the early 1800s, and you get to see the real Quarter – the people who work here, prepping for the day ahead. Someone pressure washing a sidewalk, someone else setting up a restaurant, delivery men shouting to each other the news of the day as they pass, a few drunk tourists trying to toddle home, doing that ‘I’m not really drunk’ walk where they stare straight ahead, zombie-like, trying to fool everyone and failing exponentially. Living here is a bit like living out behind the big top of a circus, where you see the equipment piled up, the magicians prepping the show for the night to come, where musicians are winding down and counting their tips and the dancers and bouncers are warily walking to their cars. 

It’s an interesting place, for a writer. I’m not sure it’s home, and N’awlins is much more than the Quarter — the locals will be quick to tell you that — but it’s fast becoming another hometown for me. We only half-way joke that we wish we could do this in several other major cities–have a job that would take us there for a year or so. There are a dozen places I’d love to live, love to know it as intimately as one would a home town.

Does a home town define us? Or do we, in some way, define it? 

What if it were wiped away? New Orleans almost was, during Katrina. Some of it has come back fine–some will be gone forever. It’s grown again from the mud and the debris and stood proud and even won the SuperBowl… but everywhere I go, there are still scars. Empty storefronts. Rotting houses. Roads that are in desperate need.

And then I look at the images coming in from Japan, and I am rendered speechless. Heartbroken. I cannot look at this, without choking up. Imagine if everything you knew was gone. So much of your own family–your history–your place in this world: wiped out. It is astonishing, the fortitude the Japanese people have shown in the face of this destruction and I am in awe of them. In awe of the firefighters and men who are trying to keep the nuclear power plant cool. The men who you know… you know, despite claims otherwise… are going to have practically committed suicide by going into that plant every day to try to prevent it from melting down. They’re saving lives. And all those other people, digging through the rubble, counting bodies. It’s devastating. 

What if my own home town–my sense of place–had been ripped from me? Would I still be me?Would I be the same? What would you miss the most? (besides the amenities) 

What do you love about your home town? Do you have more than one to claim? Have you moved around a lot? Enjoyed it? Hated it? And where would you stay put, if you could only choose one place on earth?

 

What Is This Thing They Call Book Writing?

JT Ellison

The word counts are creeping up. Creeping, not blazing a trail through the white space, but plodding, slowly, as if they are weighed down. This isn’t writer’s block. This isn’t lack of enthusiasm.

It’s starting a new book. As my favorite warrior philosopher, Lao Tzu, said:

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Now what’s funny, I needed to look this quote up, because I’m still suffering from tour brain, AKA book release malaise, and I couldn’t get it right in my head – I kept saying a thousand steps, not miles, and knew that wasn’t right. When I looked up the quote, I saw a caveat I’d never noticed before.

Although this is the popular form of this quotation, a more correct translation from the original Chinese would be “The journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one’s feet.” Rather than emphasizing the first step, Lau Tzu regarded action as something that arises naturally from stillness.

“…Something that arises naturally from stillness.”

Isn’t that the perfect allegory for the beginning of a new book? Heck, any new venture, creative or otherwise, starts from that moment of stillness. If you want to get all weighty, we can get into the chicken or the egg argument. This is a cause and effect concept in a writer’s life… At what moment have you set out on your journey of a thousand steps?

Now that I’m a bit more self-aware as a writer, these thoughts enter my consciousness often. What is the exact moment when I have an idea, a spark, that will grow into a story, and thus into a book? And at what point does the beginning really begin? At what point do you shatter the stillness and take the first step? Is it a mental journey first, or purely physical?

To be honest, the writer’s entire journey is fraught with peril, but the most dangerous moment is writing those opening few pages, when you’ve got an idea, one that you think you can sustain for another 399, characters who are living, breathing entities in your head, plot points that race toward the page like a wave through your mind, notebooks filling with chicken scratch, character names, dates, places, ideas. And you have those moments of sheer fright, when you realize you can’t remember how to start a book.

So can you say you’ve started writing a book when the idea is formed, or must you wait until those first few words go down on the page?

“Try not. Do.” ~ Master Yoda

There is an offshoot of Hinduism and Buddhism known as Taoism. I fancied myself a Taoist back in college. I was very into the philosophical then, a full-circle I’m enjoying now. And while I studied the Tao-te Ching, the Taoist handbook, if you will, I didn’t truly understand the words. How could any nineteen-year-old who hadn’t experienced suffering understand? Truly, in order to appreciate what you have, you must have experienced the loss of what you desire. That tenant has its roots all over the canon – it’s better to climb the mountain than start at the top, etc. – because it’s the truth. You always appreciate something you work for more than something you’re simply handed, and suffering, at all levels, makes us who we are.

Now, though I’m hardly a scholar, more an enthusiast, I am experiencing bits of enlightenment, especially when it comes to appreciating life and the creative process.

They say the more you talk about Taoism, the less you know. I reveled in that phrase when I was nineteen, feeling so mysterious and noble. It’s true, though. One poem in the Tao-te Ching describes the Tao like this:

The Tao is like a bellows:
it is empty yet infinitely capable.
The more you use it, the more it produces;
The more you talk of it, the less you understand.

The Tao, to me, is writing. It is looking into that empty space in the bellows—the empty, yet infinitely capable space—and seeing the sparkly mist of words that will build the house that will shelter your story.

All difficult things have their origin in that which is easy, and great things in that which is small. ~ Lao Tzu

For once, I can pinpoint the exact moment the bellows filled with air and this new book began. It was January 27, 2011, at about 9:45 AM central time. I was on a marketing call with my agent and editor. We came out of it with an idea, one that morphed into an emailed paragraph by 10:09 AM, and another call with a full-fledged endorsement from said agent and a hearty “write the proposal” by 10:20. I found a title and perfect epigraph, wrote the proposal, which was submitted February 8th, which the agent loved, sent it to my editor, who helped tighten a few points down, and it was thus accepted the 18th.  We changed the title to the what I know is the final one on February 24th, I turned in the Art Fact Sheet March 10th, and by the end of the day March 14th, I had 1602 words.

Boom goes the dynamite.

It took 45 days from concept to words. And when I say concept, I mean it—when the phone rang on January 27, I had no idea what this story was. None.

I look at those 45 days with some chagrin and teeth gnashing, because I wanted to get started sooner, but had to do all the promotion and touring for the release of So Close, copyedits and AAs for WHERE ALL THE DEAD LIE, write a short story, and continue plotting world domination. There was work being done on the new book though. Research being collected, books being read, thoughts coalescing, Scrivener files filling up with light bulbs.

Ambition has one heel nailed in well, though she stretch her fingers to touch the heavens. ~ Lao Tzu

In other words, the journey has begun.

But I’m feeling rather Taoist about the content of this book. I’m just not ready to talk about it. A few people know what I’m about right now, but I want to wait to get into the gritty.

A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving. ~ Lao Tzu

I want to be a good traveler with this book. I’m feeling very protective of it. There are good reasons for that, reasons time will reveal. But for now, I want to enjoy my secrets.

For my fellow writers – when do you feel the journey begins?

For my fellow readers – which came first – the chicken or the egg?

And for all – what’s your favorite philosophical quote?

Wine of the Week: Now, don’t everyone pass out all at once – this is only the second time in 5 years I’ve done this varietal: Red Tree Pinot Noir. It’s light, fruity, and perfect for getting back on the wine badwagon after food poisoning. : )

Someone Isn’t Sleeping Much

by Brett Battles

Me again! That’s right, two weeks in a row. Our fabulous Zoë is in the middle of her USA tour, so we’ve switched our order up just a bit to give her time to get over her jet lag…(Zoë, her hubby Andy, our lovely Alex, and I had dinner on Tuesday night here in L.A. It was great catching up!)

Those people who know me well, know that I’m not a huge complainer, especially in public. I’m always the kind of person that lets things go, and finds ways to work around problems instead of through them.

Well…I’m tired today. The schedule I’ve been keeping this year is exhausting me, but I can’t bring myself to back down. I have too much to do. What does that have to do with complaining? (Other than the fact that it’s a complaint in itself?) When I’m tired, I’m less likely to have my guard up, and more likely to rant. So there are a few things I’d like to rant about today in no particular order (warning: there will be a lot of italics):

The NFL (National Football League, for those of you outside the US)

Get. Your. Damn. Act. Together!

You have, by far, the most popular sport in this country. Stop your idiotic feuding and get your labor deal done. I’m looking at all of you—owners and players alike. It is horrendously stupid that there is even a problem. Owners…locking out your players? Come on! What are you, five? Grow up! Players…suggesting that top college prospects not attend the NFL Draft, a once in a lifetime event? Are you kidding me? I understand you’re trying to have some sort of solidarity, and the last thing you want is your new players shaking hands with “the enemy,” but think a little outside your own shadow. For these kids, it’s not about money or collective bargaining, it’s about the recognition of the work they’ve put in so far. And shaking hands with the enemy? The commissioner is not your enemy. The owners are not your enemy. And, commissioner and owners, the players are not your enemy. You are partners in a game. You get to be involved with something millions of Americans would love to be involved with.

And, for God’s sakes, if you want to win the fan vote, quit bitching at each other and get a deal done!

AMERICAN BASED AIRLINES

Screw you, and this whole passengers-have-to-pay-for-bags BS. This is ridiculous! Every time I see a commercial about special deals where there are reduced bag fees, or if you have this credit card your first bag is free, I want to pick up my television, and jam it down your throat. For crying out loud, can you not see how stupid this is?

“Well, it’s not fair to passenger who don’t fly with bags.” I got news for you. I seldom fly with bags if I’m going to be gone for a few days, and I still think this is dumb! When people travel they have luggage. The assumption should not be that luggage is an exception, it is the rule. The ticket price should include at least one bag, probably two. For fifty years, that was never a problem. Raise your ticket price if that’s what it takes. Charging for bags is nitpicky and makes you look cheap and obnoxious. Until this happens, it’s a pretty good bet that if Southwest is flying where I’m going, that’s the airline I’ll be on. Do you not do any PR research at all??

AT&T

Long time customer, first time (public) complainer…don’t know why it’s taken me so long.

Seriously, AT&T, I live in the middle of Los Angeles. The Middle of Los Angeles! I don’t live in a sparsely populated area. I don’t live in the mountains. I don’t live all alone in the middle of nowhere.

I live in the middle of Los Angeles.

The La Brea Tar Pits are a five minute walk from my front door. The L.A. County Museum of Art is a five minute walk from my front door. The Grove, one of the most popular malls in the city, is a five minute walk from my front door. And I can’t get a decent signal in my house? Are you kidding me???

To make a call, I have to go upstairs (I live in a townhouse), and even then, more times than not, the call gets dropped. Don’t tell me I could fix this by getting one of those home hotspot kind of things. Why should I pay even more money when getting a signal here shouldn’t even be an issue?

I live.

In the Middle.

Of Los Angeles.

Maybe you haven’t heard of it. There are, like, ten million of us in the county.

Get it together, AT&T. I don’t need excuses. I don’t really need reasons why, either. I need this problem fixed…three years ago.

Okay, that’s it. I’m done for now. I’ve got work to do, because I know the last thing I want to do is disappoint my fans/customers.

Feel free to comment or add your rant below.  

There’s a Genre for That

by Rob (and Guest blogger SB)

As regular readers of Murderati know, I’ve been considering leaving our wonderful little blog for some time. Well, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for some), the time has come for me to finally say goodbye.  

I’ve enjoyed my time here, and all the insightful and often funny comments from readers and my fellow Murderati alike, and thank you all for putting up with me over the last few years.  It’s been fun.

I leave you in the capable hands of Stephen Blackmoore, who is subbing for me today.

Stephen is a writer of pulp, crime and urban fantasy who occasionally lapses into talking about himself in the third person.  His first novel, CITY OF THE LOST, a dark urban fantasy will be coming out from DAW Books in early 2012.

I hope you’ll all join me in welcoming him.

———————————

THERE’S A GENRE FOR THAT 

Ever heard of Rule 34? “If you can imagine it, there is porn for it,” and it’s corollary, “If there isn’t someone will make it.”

Cheerleaders in glasses? Sure. Guys in monkey suits? Absolutely. Cross-dressing Shriners in latex wimples? Damn straight.

Genre’s kind of like that.

Way back in the misty days of yore (late ’80s) I read an article about books that people couldn’t really pigeonhole.  They had vampires in them, but they weren’t horror novels. Or detectives, but in fantasy settings. Science fiction, but set in a future that was right around the corner.

Now we’ve got genres and sub-genres and sub-sub-genres. Everything gets a label. Cyberpunk, Steampunk, Neo-Noir, Paranormal Romance. The desperate need to identify a book’s niche is so pervasive that the labels are split ad infinitum.

I mean, NASCAR romance? Seriously?

When my first novel, CITY OF THE LOST (Out next January through DAW Books) was being shopped around I made a miscalculation. I kept thinking of it as a crime novel. Which it is.

But it also has a zombie in it, a demon in a bar that isn’t really there, a feral, psychotic midget, and a 700-year-old magician who thinks he might have figured out a way to stick around another few centuries.

Shopping this as a crime novel was, duh, not working. Nobody knew what to do with it. People liked it, but they weren’t sure how they were going to market it, where they could put it on the shelves, how to push it.

Hell, I didn’t even know how to describe it. After several lame attempts the best I could come up with was, “It’s like The Maltese Falcon meets Night of The Living Dead,” which really doesn’t cover it.

And then we got back from an editor, “Great urban fantasy novel.”

Huh.

Urban fantasy is a genre that covers a lot of territory. Mystery, romance, historical. There’s some damn good stuff out there.  Everything from Emma Bull‘s WAR FOR THE OAKS to Seanan McGuire‘s LATE ECLIPSES.

It’s a real world setting, more or less, but within a fantasy context. Maybe hyper-realized, maybe not. The San Francisco of LATE ECLIPSES is our San Francisco.  The Seattle of Kat Richardson‘s GREYWALKER is our Seattle.

To say I was surprised was a bit of an understatement. 99% of my writing is straight crime fiction. I write about vengeful strippers with mommy issues, ethically challenged private eyes, homeless junkies.

And so I wrote CITY OF THE LOST as a pulp crime novel set in modern-day Los Angeles. I just happened to have a protagonist with a slight rotting problem.

Even though I hadn’t realized it there was already a genre for the book. You’d think, being the lifelong geek that I am, that I would have recognized it for what it is. Turns out not so much. Took me something like three months to wrap my brain around the idea that I had written a fantasy novel. I don’t have a problem with that, far from it, I just wasn’t expecting it.

Now I don’t mind my books being labeled. Otherwise how the hell would anybody find them? Urban fantasy is a great place to be.

But I don’t think I want to be labeled. I’ll keep writing about a mythical Los Angeles, and about homeless junkies and about psychotic cops who gun down kids. One of these days I’ll tackle a western (with Lovecraftian overtones), or historical (with aliens), maybe a romance… though god only knows what sort of twisted shit I’d come up with for that.

I like the idea of writing all over the place. And no matter what I write I know this, there will always be a genre for it.

And if there isn’t then goddamn it I’ll make one.

Love Letters

By Louise Ure

 

I told you two weeks ago about the rekindled relationship with my siblings and what a wonderful experience it was working with them to divide up my mother’s estate – a task that could have been fraught with angst and frustration.

The trip took longer than I expected and we accomplished less than I had hoped, but we got decisions made, experts resourced and a timetable in place. We plowed through closets and file cabinets and drawers stuffed with old papers, photos and mementos. We found my grandmother’s satin wedding shoes from 1898. My mother’s cape from nursing school when she graduated 74 years ago.

And those letters.

I don’t have many love letters from Bruce. Nor from earlier beaux. Our relationships were carried on in the days of easy phone access, dotted notes and emails. But my parents grew up in an era of diaries and long letters and longer absences. Thoughts and hopes and dreams left on the page for someone else to read and reread.

And that’s what I found.

A couple of years ago I posted a blog here about my father. He died when I was sixteen and I remember him only as a distant and cold man. He kept separate rooms in the house for himself and only dined with the family three times a year. He was a strong presence in my life, like that of a chilly draft in an otherwise warm room. I was always told that the war had changed him.

They had planned to marry on August 17, 1941. On July 29 of that year, he was told to report to Kodiak Island in Alaska. My mother crossed off the August 17 date on the invitations and wrote in “August 1.” They married and hopped on a train for San Francisco. He got off in Los Angeles to report for duty and my mother continued on to San Francisco for a honeymoon alone. She didn’t see him again for five years.

What she didn’t tell me was that she kept the letters he sent home … hundreds of them … one every two days for five years. They are still in their little parchment envelopes, rimmed with blue and red stripes for airmail. Each one still has the censor’s initials and stamp of approval. The handwriting is strong but ornate, befitting one who was educated in the ways of penmanship.

And as I read, I met a new man. A man who used endearments. A man of wit and humor. A man who enjoyed gossip. A man who loved deeply and was loved in return.

“I hope that this letter will reach you in time to tell you that for the New Year I only wish that you should remain my very lovely and adorable wife. It seems that every little thought or action that I might have is linked so closely with you that I have no choice of my own. I love you so.”

This from a man who never called me by my name.

He also seemed introspective and unsure in the letters, traits I would not normally have credited him with.

“Tell me, dear, why do I make so few close friends? I know that I demand perfection in anything that is associated with me and I know that I can be sarcastic and over-bearing but why people fear me either in my judgments or opinions, I cannot guess. Can you tell me? It has bothered me so much since I have been here.”

He wrote with a strong sense of duty and honor:

“Granted it is unnecessary in a way and calls for some sacrifices and hardships but we can’t help looking on it as a duty or service and in some ways an opportunity. I can’t help but feel that out of this will come a better, fuller life for a greater number and that it is not the end of everything. It may have taken a war to bring to the world’s attention the conditions that brought about such bitter feelings – mainly the economic inequality among nations and individuals, the crowded distribution of population in some areas, and the age old hatred of races and nations. When we win, many of these things will be corrected and this old world will be set for a long productive, peaceful and plentiful era.”

And he was a hopeless optimist:

“I am not the least afraid of the future and look forward to the fun of living in it. Also the effect on the allied nations after the war will be great. England will become a democracy in fact rather than word. The U.S. will further consolidate social and labor reforms and government will retain strong control over business. And Russia will come out of its secrecy, double-dealing and distrust and become one of the world’s great powers along with us.”

My sister and I read from separate boxes of letters, sharing choice comments or sadnesses as we found them. “I spent the day in 1941,” I told her over a cocktail. “I was living in 1943,” she replied.

I’ve met a different man than the father I knew and I take great pleasure in making his acquaintance.

So tell me about love letters, ‘Ratini. Do you keep them? Do you need to burn them before your heirs go through them? And if you don’t have them any more, which is the love letter you would most like to have in hand?

Because Free is a Very Good Price!

by Alafair Burke

I’m not a salesperson.  I don’t even like to think about business or money.  If I did, I would have stayed at a law firm and pulled in a lot of dough.

I love to read.  I love to write.  I love to talk to readers about the books I’ve written.   But I also appreciate the absolutely true fact that it is only because there is a “business” side to the business that I am in the enviable position to do what I love.

These days writers are unavoidably pulled into the sales and marketing of their books.  Some writers enjoy it.  I once heard a writer talk about his drive to “move units.”

Mer.

I also know writers on the other end of the spectrum who resolutely refuse to think about anything other than the writing of the books.  I confess that I find this view tempting.  Unfortunately, that “strategy” often leads to this:

So what’s a writer like me — neither diva nor salesperson — to do?

I thank my readers — a lot — because they are the ones who give me a career.

I truly believe that word of mouth is the most effective advertising.  I still believe that readership can grow incrementally.  In a business that increasingly searches for the one-time out-of-the-gate phenom, I want a career like Michael Connelly’s, Harlan Coben’s, Lee Child’s, or Laura Lippman’s — each book getting better and better over the course of years and decades. 

That kind of career is built on support from readers.  No, not just support.  Love.  Like, serious wind-beneath-my-wings love. Like, this cat and this dog kind of love:

Last year, to thank my most loyal, loving readers for early support, I promised a “mystery gift” to readers who pre-ordered my novel, 212.  The gift was a 212 keychain and a signed bookplate — not much, but a small token of gratitude.  My awesome readers not only sent the book into the top 100 on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, but also earned us a little shout-out in a Wall Street Journal article about author giveaways.

The article was headlined, “How Authors Move Their Own Merchandise” and featured authors who were “becoming more and more involved in the nitty-gritty of moving the merch.”  One writer (not me, thank God) was described as “approximately as shy as a Kardashian,” and said, “I have four children to feed. I wish I had the luxury of not being tacky.” Another (again, not me) had a book reading at a sex toy shop.

Hey, wait a second!  My cute little keychains were a personalized and organic way to say thank you.  Tacky?  Nitty gritty of moving the merch?

Suddenly I felt like Tom Peterson, an electronics salesman who used to run TV ads in Portland, boasting “Free is a very good price!”

Well, it’s about three months before the launch of my new novel, LONG GONE.* 

Once again, I’m trying to find a way to thank my awesome readers, but my publisher and I are really struggling with the best way to do it.

Are pre-order incentives “tacky?”  Are they so common now that the book gets lost in the noise?  Or do readers enjoy being invested in the early momentum?  Are they just for loyal readers, or do new readers jump in too?

And what’s better, a little giveaway or a raffle?  Would you rather have something small like a signed book plate, or a chance to win something big?  And what should the something big be?  Something generic but expensive, like an iPad?  Or something personal, like dinner together at Boucheron?

And because this blog post is on the topic of raffles and give-aways, your thoughts on the lofty questions above will enter you into a raffle for a signed copy of 212.  Act now, and I’ll throw in a 212 keychain!  “Free is a very good price!”

*Tom Peterson would be ashamed if I mentioned his name in this blog post without also including the following information:  You can pre-order your copy of LONG GONE here.

The Bitter End

By Allison Brennan

 

I’m not talking about typing THE END—one of my favorite moments of writing. I’m talking about the final end, the end of days: death.

Or in the timeless words of John Cleese in Monty Python’s skit:

He’s not pining! He’s passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! He’s expired and gone to meet his maker! He’s a stiff! Bereft of life, he 
rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed him to the perch he’d be pushing up the daisies! His metabolic processes are now history! He’s off the twig! He’s kicked the 
bucket, he’s shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

 

Apparently, Alex and I are on the same psychic wavelength once again because while I planned on writing about death, she was planning on making me an ex-writer. All I ask is that she waits until I’m done with my current book!

My mom has been organizing my office for me and last week she found hidden in my bookshelves a morbid little book called THE WHOLE DEATH CATALOG. My editor sent it to me because I’m a fan of Harold Schechter, who wrote one of my favorite research books, THE SERIAL KILLER FILES.

In college, I took a Philosophy class to fulfill a requirement, and I absolutely hated the segment on Death and Dying. Odd, perhaps, because I write about murder and criminal psychology and a lot of people die in my books. I’m more interested in the whys of death—homicide or natural—than in the process of dying. This probably explains my fears as well—death (as in the final outcome) doesn’t bother me. It’s the path to being dead that I don’t like to think about.

So I’d forgotten about THE WHOLE DEATH CATALOG until my mom found it. I picked it up and flipped through it. There’s a lot of interesting, albeit morbid, trivia and a lot of research about how people viewed dying across time. What makes it almost fun is the author’s voice, illustrated well in this paragraph from the introduction:

“Concerned that you lack the necessary skills to throw a truly memorable funeral, one that expresses the unique, inimitable (albeit now defunct) you? Not to worry. A new branch of the mortuary business has lately sprung up, composed of experts who, taking their cue from professional party planners, will help you arrange the perfect going-away-forever affair, complete with specialty catering, appropriate music, and even giveaway “funeral favors.” Sort of like a really top-flight wedding or bar mitzvah, only with a cadaver as the guest of honor.”

 

Some of the fun tidbits from the book:

The motorcycle hearse. Schechter’s research uncovered that the first known biker burial was in the UK immediately after WWII. Now, the practice has spread to the US and if this is the way you want to go to your grave, check out Biker Burials.

Then the question: To Burn or Not to Burn? The history of cremation. The different types of caskets explained, including some of the not-so-successful ideas in coffin-making: the glass coffin, the cement coffin, and the rubber coffin. I really didn’t need to read the history of embalming; however, I did have a spark of an idea for a future book. 

One of my favorite stories was about (surprise) serial killers William Burke and William Hare. Prior to 1830, it was extremely difficult for medical schools to obtain cadavers for anatomical study, according to Schechter. Some people became grave robbers, digging up freshly buried corpses and selling them to “anatomy schools.”

Not so for Burke and Hare. When an elderly lodger of Hare’s died owing money, Hare sold the corpse to an anatomist. When he saw how much money he could make, and disliking the “difficult, dirty, and dangerous business of grave robbing,” Hare and Burke opted to create their own cadavers. First hastening the deaths of the elderly in Hare’s boarding house, until they were all dead, they next preyed on prostitutes and the homeless. Fifteen people died this way before they were caught.

There is even a chapter on Death in the Movies and another on Death Lit 101, perhaps of more interest to Murderati readers.

For example, the “Most Emotionally Satisfying Death” according to Schechter?

Dirty Harry (1971). Few, if any, other moments in cinematic history are as profoundly gratifying as the climax of this two-fisted classic, when Clint Eastwood’s heroic police officer puts a well-deserved .44 Magnum slug into the worthless carcass of the sniveling long-haired psycho killer after asking, “Are you feeling lucky, punk?”

 “Most Shocking Death in a Classic Film Noir”

Kiss of Death (1947). In a scene that still shocks with its brutality (even in our age of Saw, Hostel, and other works of cinematic “torture porn”), a cackling psychopath named Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark) ties a crippled old lady to her wheelchair and hurls her down a flight of steps—basically just for the fun of it.

 

And in “Death Lit?” Most of us have probably read many of the entries: Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death,” William Faulkner’s “A Rose for Emily,” Evelyn Waugh’s “The Loved Ones”, and Katherine Anne Porter’s “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall.” Schechter also writes about W.W. Jacobs’s “The Monkey’s Paw” (one of the scariest stories I have ever read!):

“Playing on a proverbial theme—be careful what you wish for—this classic tale of terror (arguably the scariest ever written) serves as an effective reminder that the very human impulse to pray for the return of a deceased loved one might not be such a hot idea.”

 

Season 6 ArtIn SUPERNATURAL, one of my favorite television shows, it would have done the Winchester Brothers (and their dad) some good to read “The Monkey’s Paw.” In the season two opener, the dad John agrees to exchange his life to save his son Dean. At the end of Season Two, Dean makes a deal with the crossroads demon and gets Sam’s life back (he’d been dead a couple days, but didn’t seem to suffer the decomposition process—I had to put aside the disbelief on that one) in exchange for his own. Dean has one year, then he’s going to Hell. Season Three is spent trying to get Dean out of his deal, but to no avail. He goes to Hell. (He comes back in Season Four.) And one of my favorite characters, who’s only been in two or three episodes, is Death (played by Julian Richings.) Creepy and perfect for the role. A lot of death and afterlife (afterdeath?) in this television show!

Julian Richings as “Death” one of the Four HorsemanWhat is one of your favorite movies or books with death as a central theme? Something that made you laugh or reflect—or both. And if you can’t think of one, what kind of funeral celebration do you want? Somber and traditional, a lively wake, or maybe hire a party planner so your friends and relatives will talk about your funeral for years?

 

The Long And Short Of It

(Or – Killing Allison Brennan)

by Alexandra Sokoloff

This month, because I have nothing else to do, I wrote a short story. 

I don’t usually do that.   Practically ever.    I only said yes because it was for ITW’s great Thriller – Stories To Keep You Up At Night series and Our Allison  is co-editing (with Sandra Brown) and she asked me.   The thing is, we were all recruited for this book so long ago, and so much has happened since then, that I sort of misplaced the idea of a deadline, if I ever knew it to begin with.

So it came up – suddenly.    Which is good, in a way, because the reason I don’t do shorts is that they’re only short in length – the process is excruciating and feels as long as any other writing I ever do except for Twitter updates, and I rarely even do that.  I didn’t have any room to stall, I just had to do it.

On the other hand, two weeks ago I was having serious thoughts about killing Allison, which just seemed easier and less emotionally draining than doing the story.   Plus I knew she would understand, as long as I was creative about it.

But it really is amazing to me, every single time, how obliging our subconscious is  (or – “those guys in the basement”, as Stephen King says.).  When we need an idea, when we have a scary deadline, the subconscious, the guys, the Muse, the Universe – whoever it is out there always comes through.

First, since this anthology focuses on the romantic suspense subgenre, I picked a dream location in the Bahamas – sexy, glamorous, escapist, that I happened to have made a whole lot of notes about on a not-too-long-ago vacation .    Since setting is HUGE to me, always a key element in anything I write, that was a big jumpstart – I knew I could deliver a sensual experience, which is half the battle in those more romantic thrillers. 

Then, I blatantly used my own feelings at the exact moment – which happened to be deep grief over the loss of a loved one.   It instantly brought up a central emotional question: Will the protagonist ever feel like living again?   And that question led to another:  Well, what in that fantastical environment would MAKE her want to live again?   And that’s the kind of question that leads to a story.

And from there, the Universe did most of the work.  As it always does if we pay attention.  A Tarot card came up as my card of the day that gave me most of the central images and objects of the piece.   I could steal from my sister’s work history to get the heroine’s job (always one of the biggest pains for me to figure out unless I’m writing a cop story or something equally obvious).   My jazz dance teacher was playing a lot of Jamaican music that I had heard on this trip.   Because of the Oscars, Colin Firth was all over the media, and if there’s a better inspiration for sex scenes, I don’t know of one.  And having spent a week in the place I was writing about, I knew the layout of the hotel and the sounds and colors and smells, so I didn’t really have to stop and think all that much.  

And somehow it all just happened and was done in a couple of weeks and I am mad at Allison again because now I have to be grateful to her for the rest of my life that she made me do this.  

I don’t usually get this kind of instant gratification from writing.   Writing a novel is such a long process that even FINISHING doesn’t have much of a rush for me beyond profound relief leading pretty instantly to coma.   I don’t really get to enjoy writing until I start hearing back from readers and realize that the story I wrote actually EXISTS – not just for me but for anyone who wants to pick it up and step into that weird alternate universe that a book is.  Which is a huge gratification, mindblowing, really, but so delayed that it doesn’t seem to have much connection to the writing process.

But a short – somehow is a little miraculous.    One day there is nothing but a black hole of panic and three weeks later or so there is a mini standalone alternate universe.   It makes you feel like you’ve actually accomplished something.   In fact, you have physical proof that you have actually accomplished something.

On the other hand, I can’t imagine putting myself through this on a regular basis.   I know some people can churn out short stories without blinking, but that’s not me.  Realistically, my novel would be a month further ahead if I hadn’t taken the time, and a month is a lot.   Since all writers really have is our time…. as much as I love the story, and as fulfilling as it is to have it, now, and as much as I admire the Thriller series (and, yes, okay, Allison) and am honored to be part of it – was writing the story actually a smart thing to do? 

So, those of you who write short stories – I’d really love to know why you do it.   What do you think is the benefit of writing short stories – in a career sense (if any)?   Or is it a more personal pleasure?    Alternately, here’s a good question:  What if anything do you enjoy about writing?   Honestly?

And readers – has a short story ever inspired you to check out an author you haven’t read?

Finally, all good thoughts out to all those affected by that devastating Tokyo quake and tsunami… it’s just been surreal to see.

– Alex

 

INSPIRATION EVERYWHERE

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

First of all, let me apologize for not being around this past week. A bizarre apartment malfunction sent me and my family running to the hotel we’ve been living in for the past six days, with only our dog and the shirts on our backs. All this, with very little sleep and the pressure of delivering the first draft of my screenwriting assignment today. It’s been an adventure, and the thing that’s kept me sane through it all is reality television.

Really, Stephen? Reality television?

I’m not talking about your parent’s reality television, like The Real World or Big Brother, where the point is to voyeuristically observe the train wrecks of troubled lives colliding.

I’m talking about a new generation of family-friendly phenoms that teach more about human emotion and the sanctity of life than the world of literature herself. Yeah, I know, big statement. But I’m talking about inspiration here, not the deep, dark ruminating of Tolstoy, Hemmingway or Emily Dickenson. These are shows that reveal the human spirit in action, the American work ethic working, and the indisputable value of family and friends.

The Unpoppables


Description: “The twists, turns — and ties — are many for the staff at New Balloon Art. Each episode of this series follows Addi, Katie and Brian as they meet with a client and then begin creating a large-scale balloon installation for a special event or occasion. An average of 15,000 balloons are needed to complete the intricate projects, and the team usually has no more than 72 hours to get the job done.”

This charming show is my favorite. It proves that you really can do whatever you want in life. Do you remember your parents’ reaction when you told them you were going to be a novelist? Can you imagine if you’d told them you were going to be a balloon artist instead? Well, that’s what these guys do, and it’s as much an art as anything you’ve ever seen. I am astounded by the amount of creativity involved. I never knew how many different shapes and sizes and styles and colors defined the universe of balloons. These guys have to build their projects within a 72-hour window or else the balloons will shrivel and wilt (I know the feeling). If they can imagine it, they can do it. And this is the message I want to convey to my kids. This is why The Unpoppables scores at the top of my list.

The Cake Boss


Description: “Buddy Valastro’s family-owned business, Carlo’s Bakery in Hoboken, N.J., is booming, and it’s bound to get even busier after viewers get an inside look at how Buddy and his staff, including his mom, four sisters and three brothers-in-law, produce thousands of wedding cakes, specialty cakes (as in Britney Spears’ circus-theme 27th birthday cake) and pastries every week.”

Did I ever think I’d be glued to a reality TV show about a bakery? Never in a thousand years. So, why is this show so damn compelling? It’s Buddy. He’s an incredible hero. His story is the American Dream, realized from the boot-straps on up. The great message of this show is that integrity, loyalty, hard-work and commitment to family prove to be the ingredients needed to live a happy life. Buddy is a tough-guy Italian at first glance, but reveals himself to be such a loving romantic that I feel like a slug when compared to him, and any guy who watches the show with his wife is going to be compared to him. Interestingly, this is another show that proves art is a component of every vocation. I’m enthralled by the way science and aesthetics combine to create such functional beauty.

The Next Great Baker


Description: Join Buddy Valastro as he puts 10 talented pastry chefs through the wringer to earn the title of “Next Great Baker.” At stake in the competition: a $50,000 cash prize and the chance to work side-by-side with Buddy at Carlo’s Bakery.”

It was this show that introduced me to Buddy Valastro. He comes off as the boss-from-hell in this show, as he puts a group of talented, young bakers to the test. I was blown away by how much suspense can be squeezed out of baking cakes. All the dramatic beats of Greek tragedy exist here.

Pit Bulls and Parolees


Description: “Follow the turbulent drama and bittersweet moments of Tia Torres, her family and her crew of ex-convicts as they come together to rescue and rehabilitate abused and abandoned pit bulls.”

What’s not to like in that log-line? What marketing genius thought to combine Pit Bulls and parolees? If I banged my head against a wall for a thousand years I would not have come up with that combination. Reality wins again. This is a show about second chances. Everyone deserves one. These ex-cons learn to see themselves in the abandoned and abused dogs they manage, experiencing the kind of rehabilitation that could never exist in prison. And the fact that a tough, no-nonsense woman runs the place, keeping everyone’s attention focused on the plight of the animals, says more for Women’s Lib than a hundred pamphlets distributed in the parking lot of the Miss America Pageant.

This show also provides another great message for my children – there is good in all of us. If you fuck up, you can learn from it, you can make things right. Another common message in the above three shows – failure is part of the process. It’s the first ten steps of success.

Outrageous Kid Parties


Description: “Whether it’s a birthday party, a graduation, or any milestone celebration, each week Outrageous Kid Parties documents parents as they go beyond their means to give their child a huge eye popping, jaw dropping fete. With high expectations, they force other family members, friends and party planners to go to extreme measures to ensure that their fabulous party goes down in history as an event never to be forgotten.”

Okay, this is my guilty pleasure. This is the train wreck we watch from the sidelines. The best thing I can say about this show is that it serves as a cautionary tale for the handful of disturbed housewives who want to live their unrealized dreams through their children by spending $30,000 on a six year-old’s birthday party. And the women are perfectly matched with clueless husbands who enable them and always seem surprised when they arrive home to find a thousand people in their front yard holding tickets for a ride in the elephant parade. Then there’s the poor siblings of the Chosen Child who are told through a million un-spoken cues that they are not the favorite child, that they are undeserving of the $30,000 party, that the only thing they’re good for is getting on the bus to serve the favored one. These siblings might as well study balloon art and prepare for the worst.

19 Kids and Counting


Description: “The Duggars aren’t your average family. In fact, they’re over 5 times the size of an average family. And while raising 19 kids can be a challenge, for the Duggars, it comes with more than its share of rewards.”

The best thing about this show is that it directly follows Outrageous Kid Parties and thus provides an alternative to slitting our wrists. The show reminds us that all families are not dysfunctional. It is all about family and love and respect. Like The Cake Boss, the message is clear – you work hard, you’re there for your friends and family, you treat others as you want to be treated, and the goodness of life will be yours.

It’s interesting to note that I didn’t choose any of these reality shows. There were, in fact, forced upon me. I watched them because my kids wanted me to, and then I got hooked. What’s cool is that my kids saw their value first. They showed me the way. And I’m there for them, letting them know that their opinion counts. Reminds me of the special moments my father and I shared, watching episodes of the original Star Trek or Night Gallery together. It was our time to hang out, to be friends.

In addition to the reality shows, my kids have aged enough to appreciate the wry humor, sarcasm and sexual innuendo that permeates some of my favorite shows – The Office, Saturday Night Live (especially classic episodes), and Whose Line is it Anyway? This is a great relief to me, since just a few months ago it was Zack and Cody and Hannah Montana. Please, gag me with a spoon. I’m glad they’re growing up in a family without dysfunction. Oh, wait, is that the Girls Next Door they’re watching? I better go join them. (It’s called “adult supervision,” folks.)

The Always Dangerous Zoë Sharp

by Brett Battles

Today it is my absolute pleasure to be interviewing our own Zoë Sharp. Her novel, FOURTH DAY, is just out in the U.S., and her follow up, FIFTH VICTIM, hits U.K. shelves March 28th. FOURTH DAY is a fantastic book, that messes around with several preconceived notions that a lot of us have. I thoroughly loved this book. Zoë has created a truly memorable protagonist in Charlie Fox, a tough, smart, talented woman. It’s no wonder that Zoë’s up for the Barry Award for Best British Novel this year!

For those of you in Arizona or California this month, and/or are attending Left Coast Crime in Santa Fe March 24th-27th, be sure to check Zoë’s tour schedule, and try to make one of her signings! 

Brett Battles: First, congratulations on the US publication of FOURTH DAY, Zoë! Since you and I split Thursdays here at Murderati, I think we might be tempting fate for both of us to appear on the same day. But, the die is cast, so let’s dive in and see what happens.

So I have to say that when I first started reading FOURTH DAY, I thought I was going to have a bone to pick with you. Here you’ve set a novel in my home state of California, and it appears that it centers around a cult! A cult! Don’t you realize we’ve been trying to shed that image for decades? But, I have to say, by the end of the book I had forgotten all about any issues I had. So first question, what led you to center a story around the cult culture?

Zoë Sharp: Thanks, Brett, and it does feel a little weird to be here on the wrong day, doesn’t it? Like we’re going to cause some kind of reality inversion …

Cults of all kinds fascinate me, the way people can have their whole belief system turned on its head. And particularly the idea I developed for Fourth Day – that you can’t be rebuilt until you’ve been broken – which was one that fitted in really well with the psyche of my main protagonist. Charlie Fox has been walking a very thin line between whole and damaged for a while now. I wanted to see what happened when that line was stretched to breaking point. Putting her undercover into a cult, having her challenge her view of herself when she already had doubts about her morality, her code of ethics – and then to have those around her begin to doubt her judgment as well. It all felt exactly right for this character at this time in her life. Basically, she’s looking for redemption.

BB: The Fourth Day organization sounded very believable. At the beginning you do a great job of instilling the cult-vibe. What kind of research did you end up doing?

ZS: A LOT of reading, and I did get to talk to a few people who had been involved in cults at one time or another, which was always invaluable for that extra bit of insight. But, as I’m sure you always find with research, you do huge amounts of it, only to discard about ninety percent. I was not intending to write a California guide book, nor an in-depth exposé of cults in general. Fourth Day is not your average kind of cult, so I knew I didn’t have to follow the rules. I was aiming for verisimilitude, an appearance of reality, rather than outright accuracy. Liberating, in its way.

BB: Any fascinating tidbits you learned that you ended up not using you could share?

ZS: Well, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you … Hey, do you think I could hire Jonathan Quinn to come and dispose of your body?

Erm, Brett, you’re not smiling. I was kidding, OK? Put that chair down …

I did a lot of research about the Branch Davidians in Waco and a nice little piece of info that emerged was that as well as the 75 ATF agents and 10 Texas National Guard counter-drug personnel, plus hundreds of agents from other federal agencies, there were also ten US Special Forces soldiers and two members of 22 Regiment – the British SAS – present as ‘observers’. That little fact sets off all kinds of ‘what if’ scenarios in my mind. I didn’t use it as such, but let me just say that it explains how a couple of guys who were not part of the official federal response to Fourth Day could be present and at least peripherally involved.

I also discovered that the military advisors at Waco recommended the ATF agents had their blood type written on their arms or neck after leaving the staging area and before the raid on the Mount Carmel Center compound. That was another little fact out of pages and pages of information that really stood out to me. I mean, it’s pretty chilling when you think about it. They were as good as telling these guys they were going to get badly injured enough to require blood transfusion. So I twisted it around a little and used it.

Interestingly, though, when I emailed various contacts in SWAT or law enforcement and asked how they would go about attacking or defending such a compound, everybody assumed I wanted to know from the point of view of the aggressors, not the defenders …

BB: In defense of my beloved state, why did you decide to set FOURTH DAY in California?

ZS: Yeah, I had to laugh when you said about picking a bone with me over having a cult in California as the plot of FOURTH DAY. I thought it might provoke that kind of instant reaction – or anti-reaction – which was part of the reason for writing the book. I wanted to take what might have been a same-old, same-old storyline, and put a fresh slant on it. There were various geographical factors that meant California fitted the bill as a location. I also wanted a desert area for its symbolism – Charlie walks out into the wilderness at the start of her search for some kind of self-awareness, for truth. And besides, she had spent a lot of time on the east coast – it was time she headed west for a little sunshine.

BB: What I loved about this story is how you play against preconceived notions, and twist things in unexpected ways. Was that part of the plan from the beginning? Do you rigorously plot that kind of stuff out first?

ZS: Yeah, I have to say it was part of the plan. I don’t like taking the easy way, the line of least resistance. I set a previous book – ROAD KILL – in Northern Ireland, and didn’t go down the paramilitary route. I also had Charlie joining a group of bikers as the main characters for that book – and not a meth lab in sight!

I am a plotter and an outliner I’m afraid. The first thing I write is always the flap copy. I need to know if the basic idea is strong enough to grab me, whether I can get the crux of it across in half a page, make it sound like something I’D like to read, never mind anyone else.

I like to do a basic outline, with the main points, then go over it several times, interweaving the characters and the storyline until I have something both tight and complex. The more I can get the differing strands to weave back into the whole, the stronger the story feels to me. Then I do a final outline that is just from Charlie’s POV. Writing in first-person, she can’t know anything that doesn’t come to her directly, so I like to know in advance how she discovers all the facts in as believable way as possible. I hate books that end with pages and pages of exposition to explain how everything worked out.

I know some people say that if they outline too much, it makes the story boring for them to write, because they know what’s coming next. I don’t find that at all. Instead, knowing the destination frees me up to really enjoy the journey. And knowing WHAT is about to happen is not the same as knowing exactly HOW it’s going to happen.  That’s the fun part to write.

BB: Yeah, we’re on different sides of the fence on that one. I’m one of those people who gets bored if I outline too much. But that’s what’s great about this business. No two methods are alike.

I read somewhere where you said you created Charlie Fox in a kind of response to the lack of strong female characters you saw in other stories at the time. You also mentioned that you didn’t want her to be a guy in a skirt. Well, I think I can say that you’ve certainly accomplished that. Charlie is a kick ass protagonist who is very much a woman. You push her to her limits, and definitely put her through the ringer in FOURTH DAY. I’m wondering if you set out to see how much she can take, and if you’ve ever pushed her too far and had to reel it back some…?

ZS: I grew up reading good old-fashioned thrillers, where the men were men and the women screamed or fainted a lot, or twisted their ankles at vital moments. Charlie was definitely a response to that. I wanted someone who could do her own fighting and was more likely to be in the rescue party than be in need of rescuing.

I always like to pressure-test my character. How people react under extreme circumstances so often defines them. Charlie is very cool and almost clinical in violent situations, which led one reviewer to suggest her attitude to violence bordered on casual. But that’s not it at all – she feels it, but she is professional enough to keep it buttoned down until later. It’s still not as acceptable for women to be capable of acts of violence in fiction. They are so often portrayed as victims. She has been a victim in the past, and made a decision a long time ago that she was never going to be put in that kind of position again. It’s her driving force.

Have I ever had to reel it back some? Well, there was this small torture scene in THIRD STRIKE, which was there to demonstrate how a fundamentally ‘good’ person can be pushed to do unthinkable acts in extreme situations. I thought it was actually quite lightly sketched. A bit like the shower scene in ‘Psycho’ – you think it’s real slasher stuff, but in fact you never see the knife go in. It all happens in the spaces between. So, with the scene in the book, there’s no gleeful wading through gore – I don’t do gratuitous violence – but it was quite a disturbing scene. My US editor made me take out the one paragraph that described what was actually happening, and I think she was quite right. Like that shower scene, you get the full picture in the spaces between the words.

BB: FOURTH DAY is your eighth Charlie Fox novel, and the ninth, FIFTH VICTIM, will be out in the UK this month, with a Charlie Fox short story, ‘Off Duty’ available as a bonus download. How do you go about keeping the series fresh for yourself? Or is that even an issue?

ZS: ‘Off Duty’ was written as a filler story that happens between the events of SECOND SHOT and THIRD STRIKE. In fact, there’s a very small reference to it in THIRD STRIKE, if you read closely enough! I like to come back to ideas from short stories and weave them in. One of the characters from a short called ‘Postcards From Another Country’ which I wrote for the mass market paperback US edition of FIRST DROP pops up again in FIFTH VICTIM, for instance. Things like that all help to keep things fresh.

You have a choice when you begin to write a series. You can either keep the main character unchanging or you can progress them as the series develops. I chose to progress Charlie as the books go on, so there is always a new personal challenge for her to face. Each book has a journey for the character as well as the main sequence of the plot. Tying the two together makes for a more complex and – I hope – ultimately a more satisfying read.

BB: When will the FIFTH VICTIM be available in the states?

ZS: Pegasus Books, who publish FOURTH DAY, will be bringing out FIFTH VICTIM next year. I’ve already seen the proposed cover for the US edition, and it’s stunning.

BB: Are you sticking strictly with Charlie, or have you considered writing a book or even series with other characters?

ZS: I keep trying out new characters in short story form. I have a lot of ideas buzzing around in my head, and I’ve had a supernatural thriller bubbling away in the back of my mind for years. I think it would make a great novel, or graphic novel, or a screenplay. One day, I’ll get around to writing it – maybe even as a collaboration …

BB: You’ve written elsewhere that the most influential book you read growing up was BLACK BEAUTY. Is there also one you could describe as the most influential book you’ve read as an adult? If so, what is it?

ZS: It’s quite true about BLACK BEAUTY. It was a book that changed attitudes and laws in Victorian England – for the better. What greater legacy could a writer wish for? But the most influential book I’ve read as an adult? Hmm, that’s a difficult one. Possibly THE RUBÁIYÁT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM or simply THE CHAMBERS DICTIONARY.

BB: Major congratulations are in order for your Barry Award nomination for Best British Novel! So tell us, how did you find out, and what was your first reaction?

ZS: I had an email from Judy Bobalik with the shortlists, which was amazing. I love the way an email can turn up out of the blue and make you smile all day. My first reaction, looking at the other authors, was that I’m the rank outsider! But at least I get to bask in the reflected glory until the results are announced at Bouchercon in September.

I’d only just got the news that the ITW book of essays, THRILLERS: 100 MUST READS, was up for an Edgar Award in the Best Critical Biographical category. I was one of many contributors, who must all be thrilled (no pun intended) to be nominated.

BB: And, finally, the “what can we expect next” question. So, Zoë, we know that FIFTH VICTIM is almost out in the UK and will be coming to the US next, but what about after that? What can your readers expect after that?

ZS: I’m already into the next Charlie Fox book, which is set in New Orleans. And, incidentally, a character mentioned in ‘Served Cold’, which appeared in the A HELL OF A WOMAN anthology, has found his way into the new book. We visited New Orleans last summer, when we were staying with Toni McGee Causey, and it’s a fascinating place, with a real split personality. I like the experience of light and dark, and if you can get that from a location, it adds so much to the tone of the story. Rest assured that she won’t be there simply to enjoy Mardi Gras and eat crawfish …

BB: Thanks, Zoë!

ZS: Brett, it’s been a pleasure. And hey, I like what you’ve done with the space. Looks different from this side. Next time, you come over to my place and we’ll talk about THE SILENCED.

BB: Sounds like a plan! All right, all, feel free to ask some questions in the comments section. Though I’m told she’ll be a bit jetlagged, Zoë’s promised to check in as much as possible. Let the commenting begin!