A Post with Absolutely No Point

I pretty much live and work inside my computer.

It’s true. If someone could put a computer chip in my brain that would allow me to see the screen on my retinas, I’d be a happy man.

I was on a panel at the Santa Barbara Festival of Books recently, talking about process, and one of my co-panelists, Gayle Lynds, was shocked when I said I never print out my drafts.

When I write books, the first time I see a draft on paper is when the copy editor sends it to me. I never make corrections with a pen until I’m writing STET all over those copy-edited pages. The book is written on a computer, revised on a computer and the only thing my editor ever gets from me is an electronic copy.

Even those STETTED (is that a word?) pages get scanned and sent electronically. Saves me a trip to the post office, and a lot of money. The one time I DID send the paper version of my UK copy edits, the delivery charge was 70 bucks.

Ouch.

All that said, I DO prefer to read paper based books. No Kindles or Sony Readers for me, thank you. Well, sure, I wouldn’t mind having one. In fact, I’d love to have one. But as handy as they might be, I’ll always prefer paperbacks. Lose a paperback on a plane, and you’re only out seven bucks.

But the writing process, for me, is almost all electronic. In fact, if they could find a way to send me the copy edits electronically, I’d jump for joy. Because, let’s face it, the copy edit phase is the most joyless part of the authoring business.

I’ve been a gadget fiend for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I had more tape recorders than I knew what to do with. Eight track recorders, reel-to-reel, cassette recorders, multi-track recorders. I’ve always been something of an early adopter and tend to buy gadgets long before the prices come down.

Back in the early 1980’s, I bought a Yamaha hardware sequencer (and if you don’t know, it’s kind of like the modern equivalent of a player piano for musical composition) for three thousand dollars. That was a crap load of money back then. Hell, it still is. And six months later, Yamaha came out with a smaller, better version for three hundred bucks.

I bought it, too.

Don’t even get me started on mp3 players. I’ll just say that I was buying them before even Apple knew what they were. When the iPod exploded onto the scene, my reaction was, "What’s the big deal?" — because I’d been using something better for a couple of years. And iPods still blow.

For writers, the computer is the greatest invention ever. Years ago, I used to bang out screenplays on an IBM Selectric typewriter, for godsakes. I worked in the CBS script department typing scripts on mimeograph stencils and every time I made a mistake, I’d have to pull out the little bottle of blue fluid, smear some on the stencil, wait for it to dry, then type over it.

When we heard about these new word processor things, we begged the bosses to get us some for the office. "Not cost effective," we were told.

A couple years later, I began my love affair with the computer.

Now I’m working on my fourth or fifth laptop (I bought my first around 1995) and I’m able to take my office with me. I keep my lastest manuscript on a thumb drive that hangs at my neck, and carry it with me wherever I go. I have a portable video player that not only stores all of my manuscripts, but also plays mp3s, and holds about 30 full-length movies and tv shows that I’ve stored for easy viewing during long plane rides.

I bought a high-quality portable stereo recorder for traveling notes and interviewing writer friends. That’s the idea, anyway. Next conference I may well follow through on the threat.

And just this weekend, I was wandering around Target and wound up buying one of these:

I suppose I should point out that it’s the size of a hardback book, weighs about the same, and costs a mere $300. This, my friends (who says that?), is a writer’s dream. No more lugging around that heavy notebook computer. No, not me. Now I have what they call a netbook. And it’s a thing of beauty. Compact. Convenient. Cute. But best of all, functional.

Let’s face it. I can’t help myself. I’m hopelessly addicted to gadgets. Which is why my wife refers to me, affectionately of course, as The Gadget Man.

Now will somebody find me a gadget that can tell me the point of this friggin’ post?

How book tours have changed over the years

by Tess Gerritsen

I am just about to wrap up my national book tour for THE KEEPSAKE. It’s my twelfth book tour. Over the years, I’ve noticed a number of changes in the book tour scene, some of them specific to my own career. But other changes reflect what’s happening to novelists across the country.

And some of those changes are discouraging.

In 1996, my first hardcover thriller, HARVEST was published. My publisher planned a substantial marketing effort, including quirky giveaways (a little igloo cooler, to go along with the theme of harvested organs), a ton of advance galleys, and a national book tour. Being a debut author has its definite advantages: you have no prior bad sales figures to live down, you’re a fresh face on the scene, and advance publicity about a major book deal always stirs curiosity. (Landing a major book deal, however, is a double-edged sword because it also seems to bring out the nasty side of reviewers. "He got paid how much? Hell, I could write a better book!" seems to be the all-too-common response when a debut author gets a big advance. I’ve seen that backlash happen to many authors, which may be why some now choose to play coy with the size of their advances.)

As the new thriller gal on the block, I did get attention. An AP reporter wrote a nationally syndicated article about the M.D. who switched careers. Reviews (good and bad) came in from multiple newspapers. Bookstore chains, not having any prior sales numbers to judge by, ordered substantial quantities of HARVEST. I set off on my first book tour with fantasies of speaking to huge crowds.

Which of course never materialized. In store after store, I would often sit completely alone at the signing table with only an embarassed bookseller to keep me company. Occasionally, a half-dozen people would turn up, and I’d be ecstatic. The best events, I generally found, were in independent bookstores — places like Poisoned Pen or Mysterious Galaxy, with loyal customers who make it a point to show up at author signings, even when they’ve never heard of the author. Discouraging as some of the poorly attended events were, however, I knew that a tour surely had to make a difference. My media escorts would drive me around to local bookstores and distributors’ warehouses to sign stock. At every airport I landed in, I’d sign whatever was in the airport shop. Even though most booksellers had never heard of me, they all seemed happy to have me sign their copies. And there seemed to be a lot of copies out there.

While I was on the road, HARVEST hit the New York Times bestseller list.

For the next eleven books, my routine was pretty much another year, another book tour. I got to be an old hand at trudging through airports, now wheeling only a carry-on. I learned to carry "Signed by Author" stickers in my purse so I could label the airport copies. For radio interviews, I learned to distill my plot down to only a sentence or two, and focus instead on the interesting nonfiction aspects behind the stories. II started seeing larger crowds at signings and I’d recognize repeat customers. But even as my sales were growing, the tours themselves were getting less bang for the effort.

The media was harder to get. Even if I had some cool new nonfiction hook (corpses who wake up in morgues in VANISH. Or the how-to of shrinking human heads in THE KEEPSAKE) the TV and radio spots weren’t there as they used to be. I’m not the only novelist who faces this dwindling of interest; it seems to be a problem for all of us. The publisher pays to fly you into a new town, puts you up in a hotel, all to speak at a bookstore where you end up selling maybe thirty hardcovers. Without any TV or radio or print coverage, does that make economic sense?

Another discouraging trend is that bookstores now seem to be ordering stock "just in time." Although my sales have grown over the past decade, I simply don’t see the tall stacks of copies that stores used to bring in to last them through Christmas. So drop-in signings make less and less sense, considering the price of gas and the time it takes to drive from store to store. My media escorts tell me that they’re doing fewer drop-ins with all their authors because of this.

And I’ve pretty much stopped doing drop-ins at airport stores. I don’t know if it’s because of distributor consolidation, with more centralized management, but it’s now just about impossible to get approval to sign airport copies. The clerks are terrified of losing their jobs and they won’t let an author touch the books until they get approval from some manager. I told one clerk that the books would sell much faster with an autograph sticker, and he said, "We had an hour-long argument with Kitty Kelly over this just last week. She wanted to sign her books, and we wouldn’t let her do it, either."

If Kitty Kelly couldn’t manage to persuade him, I sure wasn’t going to try.

Finally, there’s the ever-worsening hassle of airline travel. When I started going on tours, I don’t recall having to suffer through cancelled or delayed flights. Nowadays, when I manage to get to my destination on time, or even on the same day, I consider it a miracle. Since they don’t feed you on planes, you arrive at a hotel late at night, starving, after room service has shut down. Forcing you to binge on potato ships from the mini-bar. And since airline reservations for book tour are sometimes made close to the travel date, you end up too often flying cross-country while wedged in the middle seat.

Airline travel has become such a nightmare that one thriller author recently chartered a private jet to fly her to all her midwest stops. (It had to be on her own dime, because I can’t imagine a publisher ever paying for that.) That’s an extravagance that I (an old Yankee) would never consider, but I understand completely why an author might resort to it.

Are these difficulties leading to fewer book tours? In some parts of the country, media escorts tell me that their tours are down 50%, even 75% since last year. Perhaps publishers are re-thinking the economics of tours. Perhaps authors are finding tours to be a costly distraction from their writing.

While I acknowledge that their value-to-cost ratio seems to be diminishing, I still believe that book tours are important to building your readership. I also happen to love doing them. I love meeting readers and visiting stores across the country.

I just don’t know how much longer it will make sense.

How can I USE you?

by Pari

Decades ago when I lived in D.C., I read a cartoon in the Washington City Paper (if anyone can remember the artist, please let me know) that had a bunch of people at a typical cocktail party. This was soon after the release of the first Rambo movie. Everyone at this event — men and women alike –dressed in power suits and had one sleeve ripped from their clothing. Their exposed arms were muscle-bound (think Sylvester Stallone) and in their hand each one carried an uzi.

These D.C. insiders would approach an unsuspecting person and say, "Hi. Who are you? Whaddya do?" Depending on the answer, the interviewer would either shove the respondent in a pocket saying, "I can use you!" or throw that person over a shoulder with "I can’t use you!"

This, I think, sums up how many people regard networking.

Common wisdom holds that the more people you know and the more powerful they are, the further you go.

I’m not sure I buy that anymore.

In my public relations workshops for writers, I stress the importance of networking and I still believe, if done right, it’ll serve them well in their professional careers.

But something has changed in my perspective. I’ve become a quality rather than quantity kind of gal. And quality isn’t necessarily what you might think . . .

Before I earned my first book contract, I went to every writers conference with a specific game plan. My quarry: agents and editors. I didn’t bother with anyone else because I couldn’t use them — they wouldn’t get me published.

Something changed when I actually signed that first contract. I remember the exact moment. It was at Left Coast Crime in Pasadena (my book wouldn’t be in stores for another year). I was sitting in the bar with Suzanne Proulx, Sinclair Browning and Steve Brewer (who’d taken a naive fellow New Mexican under his wing). The three of them were talking about their experiences with agents and editors; they gave me a crash course in the realities of being a writer and the writing life.

I went back to my hotel room and realized I’d been a fool. I’d spent so much time trying to find the "players," that I’d ignored the true gems, the people who had the time and inclination to teach me the ropes. A few months later, I went to my first Bouchercon and realized there was another group I’d never considered: potential readers. Sheesh. How could I have been so myopic before?

Something else has changed during the last few years, too. I’ve stopped trying to meet everyone in the room. Now I just want to meet a few people, to connect in meaningful ways — to learn and share and not worry about trying to impress or persuade.

It doesn’t matter to me anymore if I meet the famous folks. Most of them are off at their parties, special dinners and power meetings at these conventions anyway. And you know what? I find myself enjoying the ride with the people right there.

This hasn’t been a business decision; it’s been a life one. My time is important. I don’t want to spend it pandering or figuring out ways to use others. I want to enjoy myself and to be sincere with those around me.

Don’t get me wrong; I hope to meet new folks at every venue. Quantity can still benefit my career; the more people who read, buy and talk about my books, the more I’ll succeed.

And even though I no longer try to cozy up to the biggies, I end up meeting a great cross-section of people anyway.

At Wrangling with Writing, I had the wonderful opportunity to share time with many aspiring writers, the con’s incredible organizers and volunteers, and people like: Corey Blake and David Cohen of Writers of the RoundTable, agents Cherry Weiner and Loretta Barrett, and Victoria Lucas. None of these meetings were planned. All of the connections were real.

At Bouchercon, I got to pal around with the international guest of honor John Harvey and others such as J. Kingston Pierce, Linda Richards, Ann Cleeves, Martin Edwards, Ali Karim, Thalia Proctor (it was a very international con for me this year) and so many more.

What wonderful experiences. And I had absolutely NO agenda at either one.

People can sense that.

They can feel that I’m not calculating what they can "do" for me — whether I want them to give me a blurb or a bigger book deal, if they’ll turn my work into a movie or decide to promote me in their magazines. They understand that I’m more concerned with having a good time, being real, engaging in the true conversations that bring new perspectives and enrich life.

If, along the way, some of these relationships fruit benefically for my career — all the better.

If not — at least the journey was damn fun.

What about you?
What’s your attitude about networking? Has it changed over the years?
Do you go to conventions or conferences with a list of must-meets?

Sex and Violence

By Allison Brennan

Now that I have your attention . . .

When JT asked me to come up with a tagline for the Murderati site, I was at a loss. I simply couldn’t come up with something as witty as the pun comma sutra, or the cool double meaning of ghost writer. As the only romantic suspense writer here, I decided to simply tell it like it is: sex and violence.

My books have a little sex, a lot of violence, and bad stuff happens. My disclaimer is that they are “Rated R” whenever someone asks me about my books in a non-book related setting (for example, I’d never say this at RWA or Thrillerfest unless someone specifically asked.) But when I’m at my kids school, or at church, or even at the grocery store when my favorite checker tells everyone in line about my books (see why she’s my favorite?), I stick with my standard line.

This habit came about when a friend of mine, a woman a few years younger than my mom, was thrilled for me when I sold and wanted to read my book. She’s a huge fan of Nora Roberts, was so excited that I had written a romantic suspense novel, and told everyone about my books-she has a lot of friends. So of course I gave her an Advanced Reading Copy. She read it and emailed me a week later saying that while she enjoyed the book, but she had to skip the sex scenes which were more graphic than Nora wrote, and said “I think of you like a daughter. It made me uncomfortable.”

I appreciated that, but then I thought, wait-my mom reads ALL my books!

Mystery readers who like my books tell me they skip the sex scenes, too. I just smile and nod, but inside I’m scratching my head. The scenes are there for a reason-to show the emotional connection between two people, as well as to both resolve and create conflict in the story. Much like sex in real life. It’s not gratuitous, or there “just” to sell books, as I’ve been accused of (as if selling books is a bad thing!)

Then I get the emails from people who don’t like that bad things happen to good people. Sometimes, I want to say, “Bad stuff happens.” (Well, I really what to say sh*t happens but figure this is a PG blog.) Bad stuff happens because that’s the story. I’m really sorry that Lucy Kincaid was hurt in my book Fear No Evil. I’m thrilled that readers became so attached to her that they cared what happened to her and were worried about her. But if she didn’t get hurt, the story wouldn’t have been the same. It wasn’t the book I was writing.

And then the people who simply think I’m a closet psychopath because I can even conceive of such ideas in the first place. As if I have control over my imagination. If I actually had fantasies about killing people, I certainly wouldn’t put them in print first!

I try to maintain a balance. The sex scenes serve a purpose in the story to raise the stakes, add characterization, solve problems, and increase conflict. The violence . . . ditto. I show it because it happens and I want the reader to care about the resolution, to empathize with the victim. If I wanted to write a cozy mystery, then I’d write a cozy mystery. I’ve chosen to lay it all out there on the page because I like a solid dose of reality in my fiction. I like it when people email me and say that my characters feel like real people, that they come alive off the page. Well, sometimes these emails scare me, like those who ask me what my characters are like in REAL life. :/

There are some who feel that writing stories with sex and violence-and especially movies with sex and violence-spread said activities. That violent shows beget violent behavior. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that romance novels are fantasies that distort a woman’s perception of relationships. Yes, they are a fantasy, but to have a man love you for who you are and be faithful is a distortion? Well, sorry, I’ll cling to that fantasy as being ideal, thank you very much.

Human beings are violent. We are sexual creatures. Obviously, both activities can go to the extreme and be dangerous to ourselves or to others. But I don’t buy into the philosophy that sex and violence in media-television, movies, or books-has increased sex and violence in our culture. There’s been plenty of both, long before commercial books and movies existed. Cain slew Abel, after all; hordes of people watched gladiators fight to the death; and men have paid prostitutes for sex before there was online pornography.

This isn’t to say that there isn’t a point where gratuitous sex and violence doesn’t have an impact on society. I do think that our acceptance threshold is higher-meaning, it takes a lot more to shock us. I believe strongly in keeping kids young and innocent for as long as possible . . . yet at the same time, to keep them safe we still have to warn them about bad people. In an episode of CSI that aired a few years ago, Catherine Willows young teenage daughter was making some bad choices in her life. A girl of the same age was murdered, and Catherine–who at first feared the victim was her own daughter–took Lindsay to the morgue to show her what could happen if she didn’t get her act together. Several characters on the show criticized Catherine for this action, but I applauded her. Damn straight–your kids start going down the wrong path, there’s nothing wrong with showing them what could happen. It’s the same philosophy as bringing a wrecked car to a high school before grad night–look kids, don’t drink and drive, you could have died in this car. Other kids did–kids who won’t be going on to college because of one stupid decision.

Well, I segued into a completely different topic! Back to commercial fiction. Sex and violence . . . there are lots of books out there-statistics vary depending on whether you include non-fiction or vanity press and others-but because of the marketplace, more publishers are trying to fill more niches. And I know not everyone wants to read books with sex and violence-I’m okay with that. In fact, when I need a break from writing and reading my favorite genre, I’ll pick up a romantic comedy, still one of my favorite genres to read . . . maybe because I can’t write it.

But my books are Rated R, and I have to forewarn people, at least in certain situations. My personal disclaimer so I don’t get any more emails from friends who were scared spitless at the violence or whose face turned scarlet during the sex.

I ask you: do you think that violence and sex in media (either books or movies) propagates violence and sex in society? Are we just so desensitized to it that to sell more books and tickets, writers and directors are upping the stakes to shock us?

You know what’s wrong with Bouchercon?

by Alexandra Sokoloff

Look, I did my raves already, here. And I’ll fight anyone to the death who even dares to hint that Ruth and Jon and Judy didn’t just put on the greatest show on earth. But let’s get honest, now. There’s something missing, endemically, intrinsically, about the whole Bouchercon experience.

There’s no dancing.

Yeah, yeah, I can feel the skeptics of you out there going skeptical on me already, but trust me, this is leading somewhere you might just want to go.

Because of my confused genre identity, and because romance readers love them some ghost stories, I end up at a lot of romance conferences. And there is dancing there, oh, is there. No hangovers ever at an Romantic Times or RWA conference, because you just dance it right out. Great exercise, too – no one needs to bother with the gym at these things. And it’s great bonding. But there’s a major problem there, too.

No men.

Oh, well, there are the requisite half-naked beefcake cover models. And Barry Eisler. Unfortunately not half-naked, but simply working it.

But besides that – pretty testosterone-deprived.

It’s not that I don’t love dancing with three hundred women at a time. I do. It’s just that it’s not exactly… the same. I love women. I love men. But what I love most of all is women and men together, all variations, doing whatever they do, in all possible permutations.

My favorite advice columnist, Miss Manners, said that “Flirting is what adults do because they know it’s not practical or even desirable to have sex with everyone you’re attracted to.”

Well, that’s precisely the point with dancing, but with more full body contact. That’s what social dancing was invented for – the preservation of monogamy while maintaining healthy levels of fantasy promiscuity.

Social dancing is maybe the one thing that the sixties really screwed up, and I’m from Berkeley, where the sixties never died, so you know I wouldn’t say anything like that unless I really meant it. When people started to dance free-form, non-contact, by themselves (which is what tends to happen when you’re tripping) a whole way of life started to crumble. The sexual revolution had a lot to do with it. Men realized they were going to get sex anyway, so they didn’t have to go to the trouble of learning how to dance in order to get laid. And somehow women let them get away with it. But oh, the loss.

I’m sure it was fine in the seventies, when people were still sleeping with each other left and right. And in the eighties, before the dark age of AIDS and during the age of, well, cocaine.

But then suddenly rampant random sex was not happening any more. But when we lost the random rampant sex, we somehow didn’t go back to the socially sanctioned safe-sex substitute of dance.

Which leaves us – not screwed, but pathetically UNscrewed, I think is what I mean to say.

I haven’t been at this author thing that long, but my observation is that as a group, authors are overwhelmingly…

Married. And faithful.

And it’s a lovely thing – commitment, fidelity – I’m all for it. Cheating is bullshit.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want a cheap feel from a friend – or an attractive stranger – once in a while. And social dancing used to make that not only possible, but pretty much mandatory.

Whoever invented compulsory social dancing really, really, REALLY knew what they were doing. Because within that context, you’re allowed to try out dozens, no, hundreds, even thousands, of different partners. Feel how they move, see if they have a sense of humor and sense of adventure, get a good taste of their passion or lack of, see if they’re generous or selfish, see if you FIT with them. All without saying a word.

And then even once you have your perfect partner (who may not be a great dancer at all, btw – that’s really not the point – you could laugh all the way through the dance of the four left feet and know at the end of it that you’ve found the love of your life) – you don’t have to give up all those other partners. You get them every weekend, all those hundreds and thousands of three-or-five-or-seven minute living fantasies, as long as you’re still able to stand.

What a perfect system!

Let’s apply this to our own situation for a moment.

Some of my favorite times at B’Con this year were with girlfriends, dishing about the guys. And the maybe couples – are they or aren’t they?

Yes, I know we were all there working it. But in the meantime, weren’t you, you know, looking? And thinking?

Is Marcus Sakey too young, or would you make an exception for his old soul? Why do so many women name Dr. Lyle as one of the sexiest men in the mystery community? Did anyone, ever, have a professor like Derek Nikitas in college, and if you did – well, did you? Can anyone’s voice shake you to the – uh – core – like Gary Phillips’? Wouldn’t you love to feel Ken Bruen’s soul in a dance the way you can reading him on the page? How many of the rest of you have secretly wished that Jim Born would just take out the damn handcuffs? This year especially, didn’t you just want to just line up the Brits? Or at least have them talk at you until you passed out? And how about those Teds, as we say in So Cal – the big, comfortable, easy guys you just want to curl up on… er, with… Brett, Rob, Dusty, Bill Cameron, Jason Pinter, Ali Karim?

JA Konrath, angel or demon?

And let’s not forget the agents and editors. I’d put Scott Miller up for a Men of Mystery calendar any day. Joe Veltre was looking mighty fine, and Lukas Ortiz is not only a hottie, but after a five-hour bike ride with him last year in Anchorage I can testify to his endurance. Marc Resnick is so sly and smart – and Eric Raab has that rock star soulfulness – could be Adam Duritz’s brother.

And speaking of brothers and rock stars – when we have two tall elegant brilliant Englishmen like Lee Child and Andrew Grant skulking about the proceedings – and they’re brothers? Or Michael Palmer, pere, and Daniel Palmer, fils, doing the rock star thing at ThrillerFest? I mean, this is better than twins, people. Doesn’t the mind run wild?

Talking about it is fun (Louise Ure and Lori Armstrong and Tasha Alexander and Christa Faust, I’ll dish with you any hour of any day). Talking to people is fun. But after 14 hours or so of it I’m talked out. When the lights get lower and the cocktails are flowing, I want more.

How breathtaking to have a socially sanctioned excuse to leave all that talking behind and simply step into someone’s arms. Repeatedly.

And I’m not talking about drunken groping. I’m talking about people being skilled enough at the LANGUAGE of dance to get out on the floor for three or four minutes and have a whole thrilling, surprising, funny, sexy, touching, mindblowing conversation – every bit as complicated as writing – through rhythm, through touch, through teasing, through holding back and then pushing through, anticipating and riffing on each other’s moves – all without a word. (Is this reminding you of anything? It should be.)

There’s that disconcerting feeling you get as a powerful, independent woman – to have to surrender to his hold. And how thrilling to find that he knows exactly what he’s doing. Yeah, it’s a little flustering that he as the lead is in ultimate control (I tell my male friends that men don’t really dance, they STEER) – but as the woman, or follow, you have any number of opportunities to change the game on him – to halt the step, to change the pattern and make him adjust to you, or just make him watch and know that everyone else in the room is watching while you seduce them along with him.

Dance is conversation to music, too. The music is really another partner, a whole dimension, as much a part of the experience as the person you’re with. If you listen to the great swing tunes, you’ll see that the music changes constantly within the song, from swing to rumba to mambo to, hell, a tap break. If you and your partner are on the ball, you can follow not just each other, but the different dances within a single song. And when you dance a lot, there are certain songs that you just crave to dance with a certain man, to see if he’s up to it. And if he isn’t, you could always dance it with someone else. Dancing doesn’t have to be just one-on-one. You can be dancing WITH someone – but dancing FOR someone else entirely, if you see what I mean.

Think about this for a moment. Let’s just imagine that you CAN dance, just like you can talk, because you’ve been in classes and at cotillion and social dances from the time you were eight, then on to the jazz clubs and Latin clubs, or shag or tango competitions – depending on where you’re from. You can speak dance as well as you speak – if not quite English, then French or Spanish or whatever you speak as a second language. Because that’s the way it used to be. Salsa, Rumba, Swing, Foxtrot, Samba, Lindy Hop, Waltz, Tango, Shag in the South… everyone spoke those languages.

(And let me tell you another thing – age means nothing in dance – it’s all about the conversation. I’ve been tossed in the air by high school kids and danced down a ballroom staircase with the then-85-year-old maestro Frankie Manning (pioneer of the Lindy Hop) and every experience is uniquely wonderful.)

Now, what if that was simply the thing that we all did – from nine or ten pm on?

That’s the way it used to be.

Do you get just a glimpse of what I’m talking about? Can you blame me for being a little nostalgic for that time of night when the talking was done, and a whole other level of communication opened up?

Oh, and the best thing? It’s understood: What happens on the dance floor – stays on the dance floor.

So, if you could…

Who would you want to dance with? At B’Con or Thrillerfest or LCC or wherever. And don’t even pretend you don’t know. Most of you probably have a whole list. Writers are the sexiest people around, and that’s just the truth.

So that’s the question for today. Who would you dance with? Truth or dare.

And if you don’t quite dare, is there something besides writing or reading that does you the way dance does me?

Branding and Trademarks

by J.T. Ellison

Can you use real people, places and events in your fiction work without being sued?

This topic pops up from time to time, and it seems like there are too many people who don’t know the answers, so I thought we could try and sort it out.

The short answer is yes. You can use brand names and trademarked items in your books. You can use real people and real places.

What you can’t do is slander or libel. In other words, any defamation of character isn’t allowed.

In law, defamation (also called calumny, libel, slander, and vilification)
is the communication of a statement that makes a false claim, expressly
stated or implied to be factual, that may give an individual, business,
product, group, government or nation a negative image. Slander refers
to a malicious, false, and defamatory statement or report, while libel
refers to any other form of communication such as written words or
images. Most jurisdictions allow legal actions, civil and/or criminal,
to deter various kinds of defamation and retaliate against groundless
criticism. Related to defamation is public disclosure of private facts
which arises where one person reveals information which is not of
public concern, and the release of which would offend a reasonable
person.^[1] "Unlike libel, truth is not a defence for invasion of privacy."^[2] **

Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with, why does this question keep coming up, again and again? It seems like common sense that you can talk about a real person but not talk badly about them. Right?

Well, maybe not so much. The media gets away with salacious tidbits that are utterly unfounded all the time. Any celebrity will tell you they don’t even look at the tabloids because of all the hurtful, hateful nonsense that makes up the headlines.The reason they get away with it is because these people have chosen to put themselves in the public eye, and somewhere along the way, they abdicated their right to privacy. There is a rule of law called the "Public Figure Doctrine" that applies to celebrities, politicians and the like:

Special rules apply in the case of statements made in the press
concerning public figures, which can be used as a defense. A series of
court rulings led by New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254 (1964) established that for a public official
(or other legitimate public figure) to win a libel case, the statement
must have been published knowing it to be false or with reckless
disregard to its truth, (also known as actual malice).^[13]

Under United States law, libel generally requires five key elements.
The plaintiff must prove that the information was published, the
plaintiff was directly or indirectly identified, the remarks were
defamatory towards the plaintiff’s reputation, the published
information is false, and that the defendant is at fault.

The Associated Press
estimates that 95% of libel cases involving news stories do not arise
from high-profile news stories, but "run of the mill" local stories
like news coverage of local criminal investigations or trials, or
business profiles. Media liability insurance is available to newspapers to cover potential damage awards from libel lawsuits. **

So it seems there is a certain amount of caveat emptor (buyer beware) to any person who proceeds into a public life.

Technical jargon aside, how do you, the fiction writer, decide how far to take things?

I again have to draw on my own experience, so bear with me. My character in a homicide lieutenant in the Metro Nashville Police department. It is a real position in a real environment. I set my series in Nashville, and use local landmarks, restaurants and streets to lend both authenticity and recognition to the books. I have real people — in ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS, there is a reporter named Laura McPherson, who worked for Channel 4 (NBC). Real person, who was thrilled to be included. I’ve continued using the actual names of real reporters in newer books for a train of continuity.

I especially like using Nashville’s landmarks and restaurants. We’re such an eclectic town, with a broad and diverse array of social and cultural highlights, so it helps me set the stage. In a city of wild dichotomies, people who subsist on fare from Radius 10 and Sambuca and attend the symphony at the Schermerhorn are vastly different from those who go to Captain Ds or Waffle House and spend their time at the Grand Ole Opry.

I use trademarked items as well. Kleenex. Diet Coke. Starbucks. BMW. Taylor drives a 4Runner. I always use the proper names of cars: it a great, subtle tool for character development. A man who drives a 2008 Prius and a man who drives a 1967 Mustang are going to be very different people, and in one swift brushstroke I’ve explained that. The same for someone who drinks Diet Coke instead of Coke. The same for someone who goes to Starbucks instead of making coffee in their own home.

Is it lazy for me to use these little daily details to flesh out my characters? I don’t think so. Sometimes it’s easier to describe a ’67 Stang instead of a flowery exposition on a muscle car.

But what I can’t do is use a real place, a real person, a trademarked item in any way that isn’t publicly verifiable. I have taken real figures and turned them into fictional ones, to protect the innocent, and myself. But I can’t write a real person into the book and have them do something illegal or out of character.

For example – I can’t take a newscaster, use their real name and give them a virulent coke addiction. I can’t use Diet Coke in the commission of a crime if it is something that isn’t manipulated by the character – meaning I can’t blame Diet Coke. I can use a can of Diet Coke to bash in a head, I can’t say Diet Coke is responsible for driving the villain crazy by removing a portion of the caffeine and thus driving them to commit the crime.

There are strict limitation to using real people and places, yes. But it’s not that hard to get around. In 14, I needed a bar that was next to a strip club. Yes, there’s plenty of places in Nashville that fit the description. But in this particular case, I cheated and moved the geographical location. I’m allowed. It’s creative license. Can I take the Parthenon and put it on Legislative Plaza? No. But I can use fictional locations and manipulate them into real locales.

A fantastic example of an author who has used a real character in her books but fictionalized him is Charlaine Harris’s Bubba. We all know it’s Elvis. He’s not dead, he’s a vampire. But Charlaine never says it’s Elvis. She uses a beautifully subtle, wink, wink, nudge, nudge scenario to poke fun at the cultural phenomenon of people who believe Elvis is still with us.

Which leads us to the dead. Are they sacred? Can you not discuss people who have passed? Of course you can. Another example is Tess Gerritsen’s THE BONE GARDEN. Tess uses Oliver Wendall Holmes, a very real character, to shape a fictional world. She does is brilliantly, and it’s obvious how much effort and research went into Holmes’s character.

So take heart, writers. You can use real people, places and trademarks in your novels.

Do you have a favorite famous place or person who makes an appearance in a book? And does anyone from the legal community care to weigh in here?

Wine of the Week: 2005 Huarpe Lancatay Cabernet Sauvignon

** All citations from Wikipedia

PS: I must take a moment and give a huge, public thank you to everyone who signed my Get Well Card at Bouchercon this past weekend. I can’t tell you how much it meant to receive a card signed by all my favorite people, and I was literally in tears, of joy and thanks, of course, reading all of your inscriptions. I love you all, and am so sorry I missed you. And an especial thanks to Miss Zoë who arranged this incredibly lovely surprise. You are the greatest, babe. XOXO

Location, location, location

by Zoë Sharp

Well, I was intending to do another of those blogs about What I Did At Bouchercon, because there were a few stories there that deserve telling – getting mugged by a paramilitary evangelist in Baltimore Airport, for a start. And the museum exhibit designer we met on the plane on the way out, who turned out to be one of those people you instantly take to.

But then I read Dusty’s comments from yesterday about Not Another What I Did At Bouchercon Report, and realised I was going to have to come up with something new. And fast.

Aw, rats.

So, hello to everyone we met. It was a convention of delights for me. There are people I’ll never forget – mostly for the right reasons! And instead I’ll move to Monday night, New York City. We had dinner with Lee Child, SJ Rozan, and new Brit crime thriller author, Andrew Grant – who also happens to be Lee’s little brother. And the subject of location came up over goat biryani (don’t ask). “There have been very few series that have been truly successful in the States,” Lee said, “that haven’t been set here.”

Now, your first instinct is to deny this. But the more you think about it, the more it seems to hold true. There are the occasional exceptions, of course. Sherlock Holmes, for one. And Golden Age crime seems to demand an English country house setting, some time between the wars. But more recently …?

The only ones that immediately hit me are Jacqueline Winspear Maisie Dobbs books, although the time period puts it into a different, historical category. And Cara Black’s Aimée Leduc, not to mention our own Ken Bruen who has his Galway-set Jack Taylor series and the London-based Brant and Roberts books. But even Ken has experimented with US-set novels, like ONCE WERE COPS. There are one or two of the translated authors who are also making waves, such as Stig Larsson. But, others? It starts to get difficult to think of any. Although, I must admit that I’ve literally just got off an overnight redeye flight home, so it is possible that my brain is totally fried.

But, of all the really top authors in the US bestseller charts, I’m not sure I can think of any whose books are set elsewhere. And often, a writer will move his characters to the States partway through a series – I admit to doing this myself, at the behest of my US publisher. The first time it happened, for FIRST DROP, was coincidence. Charlie was working as a bodyguard and the idea for the plot hinged on the book being set during the Spring Break weekend at Daytona Beach. My current US editor read that book, liked it, and put in the request that Charlie might soon be working in America again soon. And when a publisher makes such a suggestion, an author generally takes it on board.

Fortunately, this conversation happened at a stage when I was changing publisher in the UK and my new house, Allison & Busby, were more than happy with the idea. Having Charlie living and working in America not only gives her the chance to carry – and often use – firearms that she would not otherwise get the opportunity to, but it also emphasises her status as an outsider, looking in.

So, the first part of this question is, do you think this is this is the case? Do you think a book has to be set in America to sell well in America. And, if not, why not? I need examples, people!

I have a trio of nice Words of the Week this week. The first is apricity, which is the warmth of the sun in winter. The second is balter, which is to dance clumsily. And the last – and I’m horrified to think this happens often enough to have its own word – is lant, which means to add urine to ale to make it stronger.

True or False?

by J.D. Rhoades

Okay, this won’t be
another one of those "who I met at Bouchercon" pieces, but I do want to give a
shout out to my fellow Murderati, both posters and commenters, who I met (or met again) there. Sure,we didn’t win the Anthony, but
it was a lot of fun hanging with you. And for the record, the funniest Bouchercon story, bar none, is here.

Moving on….

Seems to me we’ve been awful serious lately. Not that that’s a bad thing. Not in the slightest. There have been some great, thought-provoking posts here, and some thoughtful and incisive comments on those posts. I’ve learned a lot from you folks. But, you know, all work and no play makes Jack Nicholson try to axe his whole family to death in THE SHINING.

So, as a reward for everyone’s good work, let’s kick back, take a break, and have a little fun. I’m going to throw out a fun or unusual "fact" about a writer or a well-known work, and you tell me if it’s true or false. Later, I’ll post answers in the comments. Those with the most right answers will get their names thrown in the hat, and I’ll pick one and send them a copy of BREAKING COVER, autographed by yours truly, unless you’d rather have it autographed by someone else. That would be kind of weird, but I’m an easygoing guy. Be sure to READ THE QUESTIONS CAREFULLY.

And, just for grins, throw out your own fun "fact" about a writer or work and let the rest of us guess if it’s true or false. An additional prize may be given out for the best one of those. Or it may not, depending on my mood.

Okay, here we go.

TRUE OR FALSE:

1. When Dashiell Hammett was working as a private detective,
he got his first promotion after a case that involved tracking down a stolen Ferris wheel.

2. Arthur C. Clarke named the HAL 9000 computer in 2001: A
SPACE ODYSSEY by shifting each of the letters in the IBM name one letter back in the alphabet.

3.The catchphrase "The butler did it!" originally came from a conversation William Faulkner had with Raymond Chandler while writing the screenplay for THE BIG SLEEP.

4.Dr. Seuss wrote GREEN EGGS AND HAM when his editor
challenged him to write a story using only fifty different words.

5. Michael Connelly actually threw away the manuscript to THE BLACK ECHO, but his wife fished it out of the garbage and persuaded him to submit it.

6. Ian Rankin’s book BLACK AND BLUE was originally going to be
called OBSESSION, but a perfume maker came out with a perfume with the same name,
and the title was changed.

7. There is a "lost" Travis McGee book written by John D. McDonald called A BLACK BORDER FOR MCGEE. It’s narrated by his old friend Meyer and tells the story of McGee’s death. McDonald submitted it with the proviso that it be published after his own death, but the publisher refused to release it.

8. Patricia Highsmith’s mother tried to abort her by drinking turpentine.

9. Fantasy/SF writer Harlan Ellison once supported himself by writing lesbian pornography under the name Ellyn Harlison. His best-known work was called I HAVE NO **** AND I MUST CREAM.

10. Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammett is a great grand-nephew of Dashiell Hammett.

Good luck!

P.S. This should go without saying, but no Googling for answers. You’re on the honor system.

Moments of Epiphany

By Louise Ure

There are moments of epiphany in otherwise normal, expected days that can take your breath away. Moments when everything seems worth it. When you’re surprised by a sense of bliss like a ray of sunshine on a cloud-dark day.

I had several of those in Baltimore. Tiny things, some of them, that made five days at Bouchercon a time that I will remember forever.

This won’t sound like anybody else’s review of our annual convention for crime fiction aficionados, I’m guessing, although like every other blog poster, I have to commend the organizing committee – and especially Ruth Jordan and Judy Bobalik – for doing such an extraordinary job. They planned well, they handled concerns with ease and grace, and they made it all seem effortless.

But my special moments are different. Not the panels I attended. Not the panels I led. Not the parties. They’re more private than that, and perhaps less obvious.

Like meeting Kaye Barley for the first time. Should I have expected the open, honest gaze in her eyes? Yes, her eyes have the same generosity and candor as her posts. But it’s the caramel-covered Southern accent that stopped me dead in my tracks. When you read Kaye’s posts from now on, listen for the lilt, the measured sweetness that makes you feel like you’ve just been welcomed home.

Like seeing the instant and expert help offered to the writer’s husband who had fallen down the stairs between panel sessions. It was a short flight of stairs, no more than five or six, but when he tumbled he must have hit his head on the metal handrail on the way down. He lay unmoving, with blood gushing from a jagged cut on his chin. Not only did those around him move to help with the speed of trauma team but they did it with expertise. Readers and writers who, in normal life, are doctors and nurses were by his side in a matter of seconds. Isn’t it a joy that our crime fiction community includes these folks with such special skills?

There was also The Sad Moment of The Lost Children on Thursday night. I returned to my room on the fourth floor of the hotel after the awards presentations and drinks and loud, bubbly conversation in the lobby. There, sitting on the floor of the hallway and leaning up against door #408, were two little black girls, one about three years old and one about eight. They were breathtakingly beautiful, dressed all in white in almost African garb, with convoluted turban-like headdresses on. I asked if they were okay and the elder of the two said fine but they were locked out of their room. I asked where their parents were and she replied, “I don’t know.” I called hotel security and they arrived almost immediately, with crooning, comforting voices, a master passkey and two chocolate chip cookies.

On Saturday night, the whole Murderati crew met for drinks in the bar, and I finally got to meet B.G.Ritts and R.J. and Wilfred. How can I feel that I’ve known them forever? The entire evening felt like a celebration family dinner, diminished only by the absence of JT, Tess, Allison and Toni.

And speaking of missing Murderati folks, nothing could have been finer that seeing the light in Ken Bruen’s eyes as he introduced his fiancée, Lisa, out on the breezeway between the hotels. You know if this woman has captured his heart that she is indeed someone special.

And then there was Nancy. When she showed up in the signing room with a copy of The Fault Tree, she had this beaming expression on her face like a proud parent watching a child’s first school play. I knew the face, but from where? “When I met you in El Paso four years ago,” she said, “you said I was the first person to ever ask you for an autograph.” And so she was. She’d had a just-released ARC of Forcing Amaryllis and it was the first time that anyone had ever considered me an author or ever asked me to sign a book. I remember how I felt that day, like I had champagne running through my veins. She is, and always will be, my first fan.

Others will tell you how fine the panels were, how raucous the parties, how Baltimore showed its good and bad side block by block. I’ll remember Kaye, and Nancy, the soon-to-be Lisa Bruen, helpful nurses, and small trembling children in hotel hallways. You know what they all have in common? Someone caring for and about someone else. That’s not a bad epiphany at all.

Critique groups and you

by Pari

You’ve shown your manuscript to your mother; she adored it. You’ve sent it to your brother; he says it’s brilliant. All your friends are poised to buy hundreds of copies once the book is published.

Only problem is, no one else cares. Agents aren’t calling or answering queries. Editors run shrieking into the bathroom when they see you at conferences.

The truth? I’m sorry to tell you, pal, but you’ve fallen into the trap of thinking your writing is God’s gift . . . when it isn’t.

Go ahead, take a minute to lick the wounds to your ego. I’ll wait for you; I’ve been there myself . . .

After you’ve gone through the various stages of grief incluing denial, anger, bargaining, self doubt and general pissiness, you’ll be ready to get back to work.

And at that point, you’ll have some choices to make. Should you edit and revise on your own? Do you want to talk with your agent (if you’ve got one) and ask for help? Would it be a good idea to hire a freelance editor or bookdoctor? Or do you want to start/create a critique group?

I’ve done all four. Each one has its merits. However, I like critique groups because when they gel, they’re incredibly helpful and supportive.

When they don’t, they’re hell. Here are some of the pitfalls I’ve seen first hand:
* Ego and personality clashes
* Members ganging up on others
* Smarmy, half reads — sugary critiques that aren’t worth anyone’s time
* Stealing ideas

Whew. I’m glad that’s over with.

Now for the good stuff:
If you’re fortunante enough to land in the right critique group, the experience is tremendously affirming and instructive. It’ll stretch you as a writer and a reader.

What makes a good critique group? Here’s my take:
1. Rules
This isn’t a social hour, it’s a work session. The group I belong to follows the basic guidelines set up by Clarion. You can read two good articles on this here (how to workshop) and here (insights into how to react when being critiqued).
2. Trust
Participants need to feel that everyone in the group has the same goal when they’re reading and critiquing: to help each other write and tell the best stories possible. That’s it.
Do I need to mention NO STEALING? I sure hope not.
3. Commitment
Participants have to be willing to read the good and the bad, and to treat each submission — and each member — with utter respect. No showing up without having read the submissions, no comments without considered rationale.
4. Confidentiality
Only gab or complain about participants in the group IN the group — and rarely do that, if ever. Keep mum about other people’s works-in-progress.
5. Similar levels of writing experience
It’s uncomfortable and inappropriate to have writers with vastly different levels of experience in the same group. If you do, some participants become "experts" while others are peons. How can you possibly nourish the useful kind of democracy that promotes honest communication in that case? I don’t think it can happen.

The group I belong to in Albuquerque has five members and that’s all we want. Every one of us has been published by a traditional press and has years of writing experience under our belts. The other participants are: Pati Nagle, D. Lynn Smith, Sally Gwylan and Gerald Weinberg. We meet every two weeks and read approx. 50 pages of each other’s WIPs. We all have very different perspectives and personalities and write in different genres. We’re not best friends, but have vast amounts of respect for each other. And we’ve become a wonderful little community, a support group of writers who yearn to improve and grow in our craft.

Writers: What works for you? Have you ever participated in a critique group? What happened? (Horror stories are as welcome as happy ones.)

Non-writers: Have you ever been part of anything similar to a critique group in your professional life? Tell us about it.