I Believe!

by Pari Noskin Taichert

Lies! We drown in lies.

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

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

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

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

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

When, and how, do fictional characters ring true?

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

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

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

What’s missing?

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

I don’t have answers today, just questions.

Can you add to the conversation?

What makes a character ring true for you?

The Real and the Surreal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So here comes the question.

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

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

Connection Overload

by Alex

The i Phone is here and now this future computer.

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

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

Manage??

No, really.   That’s hysterical.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Origins of the Species

JT Ellison

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wine of the Week: Zenato Ripasso Valpolicella 

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

————–

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

CRIMESPACE on the Ning Social Network

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

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

 

A Killer Idea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours with one eye on slaughter,
Simon Wood

ON THE BUBBLE WITH J.T. ELLISON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jts_book

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EE:  Give us three wishes.

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

For readers to enjoy my books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Germ of an Idea

By Louise                              

                            Images1
 

Every writer has a different approach to beginning a book. But there’s one thing that we all have in common: the germ of an idea.

It might be an image of a character that takes hold in your mind. Someone you’ve never met but you want to spend time with. Maybe it’s her ruptured sense of loyalty that intrigues you. Maybe it’s the chewed down fingernails and the skunk-white stripe in her red hair. For some reason, your character is the germ of the idea, the thing around which everything else in the novel will revolve.

Colin Cotterill’s’s work feels this way to me. I’ll bet he started with the character of Laotian Coroner Dr. Siri Paiboun, and took it from there.

Maybe the idea includes a situation or a job (like Cotterill’s coroner.) I wonder if Chris Grabenstein started out with the notion of two cops who worked at a Jersey shore amusement park, and then built a whole world around those rides.

I started Forcing Amaryllis with the idea of writing about a jury consultant because I’d been fascinated by the field since the days of the O.J. Simpson trial. In literature and in film, jury consultants have been portrayed as a combination of P.T. Barnum and Pavlov, with a little David Ogilvy and Satan thrown in for good measure. I wanted to create one who still had scruples.

The germ of an idea can come from anywhere.

Those tiny newspaper crime report summaries can be gems for starter ideas.  Like this one, from last October’s Oakland paper:

Starting Wednesday night, the sound of gunfire will become a criminal’s worst enemy, according to the Oakland Police Department. That’s because they’re now able to listen for gunshots through a network of sensors and high-tech computers piped directly into police headquarters. The system is called Shot Spotter. It uses a Global Positioning System to pinpoint the source of the gunfire.”

Ooh. Now that could be interesting.

The internet is also a wonderful source of unexpected plots. I was recently trolling through the ozone and came across these sad, lonely lines:

“Subject: I can’t find my daughter

I left Chicago in June of 1998 to come here to Tampa to live. My daughter got caught up in the streets of Chicago and I could not find her. Because I had already gotten the job in Tampa, I was forced to leave without her and I have not seen nor heard from her since. I really miss her and pray for her. I spent $100 on a finding company to find her, all to no avail. Her birth date is 7/30/83 and her name is Martha LuAnne Johnson. If you see her, please tell her I love her and contact me. Thanks for listening. I am now 54 years old, but seeing her would be the high point of my fast fading life.”

I can’t get this woman and her lost fifteen-year old out of my head. Did the girl just step away to get some gum and her mother boarded the bus without her? Was the child caught up in a gang or a romance and ran away to avoid a move to Florida? Somehow … someday … I’m going to write their story.

That germ of an idea is what Stephen King describes as the “what if?” What if vampires invaded a small New England village? (King’s Salem’s Lot) What if you lost your hand and had a new one grafted on, but the widow of the donor wanted visitation rights?  (John Irving’s The Fourth Hand) What if you got away with a crime seven years ago, but your partner is out of jail now and looking for you? (Marcus Sakey’s The Blade Itself) What if you just met this woman in a bar and the first words out of her mouth are “I just poisoned your drink?” (Duane Swierczynski’s The Blonde)

The “what ifs” can go some crazy places. If you’re a writer, they’re the things that keep your friends worrying about your sanity.

But here’s the dilemma: how do you know when that germ of an idea isn’t germinating? How do you know if it’s a big enough idea to support a hundred thousand words and a year of your life?

Can you recognize that an idea only has legs long enough for a short story? Or maybe a subplot? And dear Dog, have you ever walked away from an idea a hundred pages into the book saying, “There’s not enough here?”

So that’s my question for writers out there today. Have you ever stopped writing a book halfway through? How did you know that it wasn’t a book-worthy idea?

And for all of us mystery aficionados, have you ever read a book that made you think, “Damn, she’s stretched this measly little idea out so far it’s gonna snap like a bad bungee cord?”

Do tell.

                                     

Idea_1

 

PS: Check out the International Thriller Writers’ launch of its “Brunch & Bullets” luncheon series, debuting Saturday, March 17 at the Renaissance Hollywood Hotel in Hollywood, California. A second luncheon is slated for May 5 in Greenwich, Connecticut. For more information, go to www.thrillerwriters.org

The Blog Short Story Project3

by Pari Noskin Taichert

There’s something going on in the blogosphere. Can you feel it? Fiction is flying hither and yon today thanks to the Blog Short Story Project. The brainchild of Bryon Quertermous and David White, this project is now in its 3rd year.

J.T., Mike, and Paul have short stories on blogs today (just click on their names) and I’ll try to post other links at the end of my story.

The rules for the short story this year are:
1. no more than 1000 words
2. topic must have something to do with blogs or blogging.

I’ve decided to give it a go, though I haven’t completed a short story since high school. I’ll admit I’m feeling a bit like my posterior is hanging out of a car window on this one, but it’s good to stretch as a writer — even if there’s a breeze.

Here’s my tip of the hat to readers who love cat stories and to those who don’t.

The Cat’s Meow

     The one constant pleasure in her drudge of a life consisted of ScreamIt.com. There, she let everything fly: the rape, the anger at men, the affronts, her sucky job. It didn’t matter if anyone commented. She just needed to get it out, to use the real names of the countless people who’d hurt her, to shame them.
    Cinnamon-laced soy milk steamed in the cup by her elbow. Her fingers snicked the keyboard, refining her post. If Rick ever read it, he’d die. Good. He deserved it.
    Pico, the neighbor’s cat, thumped through the pet door. He jumped on the table, purring and nuzzling her angular face. She felt a connection with this scuffy animal, a kind of love. Pushing back her chair, she went to the mini-fridge, opened a bag of grated cheddar — kept especially for him — and put a handful on a plastic plate. Pico curled around her ankle, a thank-you before eating.
    "Are you my knight in shining armor?" She babytalked to him and then mumbled, "What a crock."
    Back to work. A strand of hair cut across her forehead in a black slash while she typed: I used to think still waters ran deep. That is, until I met Rick. His waters run still because there’s nothing there.
    Yeah, that’d be a good hook.
    Some men are blowhards. Some are puffer fish. Rick is krill.
    Got sushi?

    She laughed at the weak joke and clicked on "Publish now."
    Tonight she’d get rid of him. Sayonara. Thank goodness they hadn’t complicated things with sex. After one spitty kiss, she’d said, "Let’s take it slow. Get to know each other."
    He’d bought it. She’d kept him out of her pants.
    She stretched, her thin arms reaching toward the ceiling and then slowly coming down in an arc to the table. The computer’s two-tone signal brought her attention back to the screen.
    One comment already. I’ve dated toads, but your’s sounds like pond scum.
    She didn’t want to respond too fast, sound too desperate. But, why not? This could be fun. He’s worse than that. Pond scum feeds bottom feeders. Rick is like snot . . . no value at all.

    At a library in another part of town, Rick sat at his laptop, a hand squeezing painful zits on his chin. Damn her. It’d been funny when she’d done it to other people. But this? Now? He sure wasn’t laughing.
    A few hours later at dinner, he said, "So, what have you been up to?"
    "Not much." They’d both ordered tofu rice bowls, doused them with tamari. She unwrapped the chopsticks and selected a chunk of broccoli.
    "How was work?" He watched her ungenerous mouth.
    "Okay."
    Liar! She hadn’t gone to work; he’d checked. She thought she was so smart. Lies — the online wit, her fake identity. He’d tracked down the truth in minutes. Now, he released another snare. "What do you want to do later?"
    "There’s no later, Rick." Oh, she loathed him, hated the piece of onion clinging to his lower lip. "We’re done."
    "What are you talking about?" The practiced confusion on his face had taken most of today’s lunch break to perfect.
    "After dinner, you’re going to drive me home and . . . then . . . we’re through. Finito. Kaput." She stabbed the tofu, feeling powerful, in control. "Or, I can call a cab right now."
    No! That won’t work. "Please, Claire, don’t run off. I’ll drive you home. It’s no problem." He shook his head, hoping to convey sadness. He wanted sympathy — if she was capable of it — not disgust. "I just need to wrap my head around this . . . I had no idea."
    "I need to go to the bathroom," she said.
    He’d counted on it. The packet of white powder opened easily, its contents dissolving into her green tea.
    Twenty minutes later, she said, "I don’t feel very good."
    "Let’s go." He helped her out of the restaurant. She stumbled near the car. Leaning her against the vehicle, he unlocked it, folded her into the seat and buckled the belt. "Snot, huh?" he said. "We’ll see who’s snot."
    Soft, regular breathing accompanied him into her driveway. Drapes and curtains in the neighborhood hid the good families, eating around happy kitchen tables, unaware of his plans. After finding the key, he slung her over his shoulder and quickly went into the basement apartment.
    So this was where she lived. One room. How pathetic.
    He bent over the dirty futon on the floor and undressed her quietly. Sneering at her tiny breasts, he stepped back to gloat. His foot hit a plastic plate. A strip of orange sprang to the top of his tennis shoe. He knelt to sniff it. "God, you’re such a fake. All this vegan crap and you sneak cheese at home."
    His throat felt scratchy. Probably the dust. He rubbed his eyes and congratulated himself on what he was about to do. Water. He needed a drink. With a cup, he sat in her chair and considered the computer. Tomorrow, she’d be horrified. His throat tightened with excitement. He’d pose her for maximum embarrassment, upload the pictures to as many porn sites as he could. She’d be dealing with it for years.
    God, he itched all over. What the hell? He was breaking out in hives! A cat? She’d never said anything about a cat.
    His throat continued to close. He’d left his EpiPen in his windbreaker. In the car. Running up the stairs and out the door, he made it to the driveway before falling to the ground, eyes bulging, fingers digging into the gravel until they were bloody.
    In the morning, her neighbor screamed.
    She peeked out the window. Rick’s dead eyes stared back. Pico stepped over him on the way to greet her.
   

Here are the links I have so far (don’t forget the ones in the intro paragraph of this blog)

Karen Olson
Stephen D Rogers
Gerald So
Daniel Hatadi
JD Rhoades
Dave White
Anthony Rainone
Patti Abbott
Stephen Allan
Christa Miller
David J. Montgomery
John Rickards
Bill Crider
John Dumand

   

What were the signs?

by Alex

More lessons from the convention circuit.   Last week I said I was shocking myself with what was coming out of my mouth as explanation of how I became a writer.    After all, I really didn’t make the conscious decision until well into college, but the signs were there.  So this week I thought it would be fun to ask you guys – What were the early warning signs for YOU?

Here are some of mine:

– Putting on plays in my neighbors’ garage, starting probably at age eight.

– Reading  – oh my God, the reading.   Everywhere.  While walking home from school.   Facing backwards in the family station wagon on road trips, without a trace of motion sickness.   In the closet with a flashlight when I was supposed to be doing chores.  In bed with a flashlight when I was supposed to be asleep.

– Being able to trance out so far into a story that my 4th grade teacher would have to literally take me by the shoulders and shake me to get me back into the classroom.

– Writing all the time, too.   Especially in math class.   Perfected the art of diligently “taking notes”  when really I was just writing everything that was happening around me.

– Performing in plays but being more interested in story beats than in my solos.

– Directing the senior class plan and rewriting around all contingencies – combining characters when people dropped out, doing the choreography myself when the choreographer broke both wrists…

– Seeing my first one-act play performed in college – my characters walked out on stage, live, and I realized that even though it was Berkeley I was never going to have to do heroin.

– Later, all those lectures with all those writers where they said,  “Well, statistically only two of you are ever going to make any kind of living at this…” and just knowing that it would be me.

All those things and more.   But what I found myself recounting last week in all my deluge of public speaking, the pivotal moment in my writing career – the real beginning, I mean – was the summer I spent in Istanbul as an exchange student.   Sixteen year old American girl – with this hair – loose – on the streets.   Well, it was brutal.   I was sexually harassed everywhere I went.   There were numerous abduction attempts.   The political situation was incredibly volatile, too – a dozen college students had been gunned down in a political protest, so all that was in the air.

I realized a world of things that summer, but three things in particular.

1)    No matter how disadvantaged any of us feel, sometimes – parents who don’t understand us, no Hollywood connections, not enough money for college,  whatever – we are still infinitely lucky to live here in the U.S., where it is written into the Declaration of Independence that we have the unalienable right to the pursuit of happiness.

2)    No matter how lucky I think I am to be an American, I am infinitely MORE lucky as a woman to have been born in the US.  Because if I’d been born anywhere of 99% of the world, I would be well and truly fucked.

3)    I realized I was going to die.   Maybe that very afternoon.   At sixteen.   It was probably around the next corner, or down that alley.  Now, usually as a privileged American you don’t really GET that you’re going to die until around age 40.  It’s called a mid-life cirsis and it makes you do crazy and risky things and turn your life upside down because you suddenly realize you’re actually going to die.  But I had my midlife crisis at 16, and I decided that if I ever made it back to the States alive (which I did, and miraculously unraped), I would exercise my right to the pursuit of happiness and follow my dream – which at the time I thought was acting but soon realized was writing.

But the impulse to FIND that – came out of that summer.

So those are my moments.    How about you?

Neil Nyren — No Longer a Man of Mystery

JT Ellison

It is my great honor and privilege to welcome legendary
editor Neil Nyren to Murderati. Neil kindly agreed to be accosted by my
keyboard for an interview, and I’m delighted he was willing to partake. First,
a little background for the uninitiated.

Neil S.
Nyren is senior vice president, publisher and editor in chief of G.P. Putnam’s
Sons.
He came to Putnam in 1984 from Atheneum, where he was Executive
Editor. Before that he held editorial positions at Random House and Arbor
House. Some of his authors include
Tom Clancy, Clive Cussler, Jack Higgins, W.E.B. Griffin, John
Sandford, Dave Barry, Daniel Silva, Ken Follett, Randy Wayne White, Carol
O’Connell, James O. Born, Patricia Cornwell and Frederick Forsyth; nonfiction
by Bob Schieffer, Maureen Dowd, John McEnroe, Linda Ellerbee, Jeff Greenfield,
Charles Kuralt, Secretary of State James Baker III, Thomas P.M. Barnett, Sara
Nelson, and Generals Fred Franks, Chuck Horner, Carl Stiner and Tony Zinni.

And now, on with the show!

You edit so many of my favorite fiction authors – John
Sandford (Lucas Davenport), Daniel Silva (Gabriel Allon), James O. Born (Jim
Tasker), Carol O’Connell (Kathy Mallory) and several writer that any reader of
fiction would recognize (Clive Cussler, W.E.B. Griffin, some guy named Tom Clancy.)
Let’s talk about the crime fiction authors first. Each writer brings unique
stories and characters to the crime universe. What attracts you to the
characters in these novels?

In many ways, this question is related to #7, what I look
for in a new writer, so I’m going to combine them.

Whenever I get a new ms,
here’s what I want to see: 1) Something different, a situation or character or
voice that I haven’t seen hundreds of times before (or if they are familiar
types, presented so damn well that I can’t resist them); 2) A sure command from
the very first page – I want to feel immediately that the author knows what he
or she is doing – if it’s wobbly, I’m just going to move on to another
manuscript; 3) Something extra. This is hard to describe, because you only know
it when you see it, but for me it’s a special intensity, a fierceness or
passion that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

After all that, I’m interested in who the author is, because
if the author has something about him or her that’ll help us gain attention for
the book, give us a leg up amidst the sea of new fiction pouring out, then
that’s helpful.

With Jim Born, I liked the first book, Walking Money, not only because it had a great voice, a
well-executed plot, and a nice collection of quirky characters, but because his
hero was in the FDLE and Jim was in the FDLE, and that guaranteed not only
authenticity, but some leverage for getting attention once the book came out –
which was exactly what happened.

With Sandford, not only was the first book, Rules of Prey, truly electric, but I
loved the dangerousness of Davenport, the sense that he might do anything to
achieve justice. The same was true of Mallory in Carol O’Connell’s Mallory’s Oracle. Carol’s style is so
unique and her heroine so unpredictable that I definitely felt those hairs on
the back of my neck. I immediately called the people selling it – which
happened not to be an agent but Random House UK (how a NYC author came to be
first published and represented by a British publisher is a whole other story)
– and said, “I want this. What will it take to pre-empt it?” And with Daniel
Silva – well, you don’t get as complex a character as Gabriel Allon that often
in suspense fiction, and he has only become more so with each book.

And the blockbuster thrillers? Are you swept away by the
action or interested in the detail?

Action or detail? The answer is both – I want to get
swept away, get the adrenalin pumping, and that’s what the best thriller
writers do so well. They don’t give you time to hesitate – you have to keep turning the pages. I often
think of the writer and the reader at opposite ends of a rope, and the writer
is pulling the reader forward,
steadily, inexorably, not letting the rope slack or the pace sag, until the reader
ends up, exhausted but happy, at the last page.

I also like the thriller writer to create his own universe,
if appropriate, and invite the reader into it. That’s always been one of
Clancy’s secrets – he brings the reader into his world, makes him feel he’s
learning things no one else can tell him, whether it’s about technology or
geopolitics or the way institutions think and act. Cussler does the same thing
in a different way. He digs deep into history and technology, then transforms
them into complicated interlocking what-if storylines and setpieces.

Redemption is a strong theme throughout many of the books
you edit. Do you think it’s vital for a series character to grow and change?
How many iconic characters like Jack Reacher, who are who they are and don’t
“grow,” can crime fiction afford?

Readers love to follow their favorite characters through a
series and watch them evolve – we feel a kind of ownership of them. But that
doesn’t mean that all heroes have to
evolve. Travis McGee never changed one inch, but we loved him all the same – in
fact, it was sometimes a comfort that he was always the same man.
Contradictory? Nope. Just means we like all kinds of characters. How many Jack
Reachers can crime fiction afford? As many good ones as we can get!

You’ve seen some changes in the publishing industry
during your career. What are the best and worst trends you’ve witnessed?

A lot to comment on here, but I’ll just choose one, which
has been both good and bad. The independent stores are being increasingly
squeezed by the chains and price clubs and the internet, and that’s an enormous
shame, because there’s nothing like a well-run independent. You go into
Poisoned Pen or Black Orchid, and tell Barbara or Bonnie what you like and they
load you up with new writers they think might be up your alley, and it’s just a
joy. On the other hand, books are now available literally everywhere. Hundreds
of towns have bookstores now that never used to, or you can sit at home and
order whatever you want whenever you want. The ease and availability of
bookbuying now is unprecedented – and that has to be good.

As a sort of corollary, someone’s always writing in some
newspaper or magazine about publishing being in a crisis. Big publishers
consolidating and blockbusters dominating the industry and enough scary stuff
to make writers want to turn their PCs into planters. The vision is being
promoted of a handful of publishers
selling a handful of commercial books to a handful of accounts, and that’s the
future of publishing. But I don’t buy it. There’s a bunch of reasons why – but
that’s a whole other rant. Maybe some other time!

Is there a white whale in your background – the book that
got away?

No editor worth his or her salt doesn’t have a story like
this, a book that didn’t interest him enough and it went on to success
elsewhere. There’s a flip side, too, though – most of us have books that others
weren’t crazy about and that we published successfully. It’s all in the gut
reaction – you feel an affinity or you don’t. And if you don’t, then you have
no business messing with it.

Two stories, one on each side of the fence. Many years ago,
at a different publisher, I received a ms that, if I remember rightly, was
already on its second agent. I thought there was definitely something there – I
especially felt that intensity I mentioned before– but I was the only one
in-house who liked it. My boss said I could make a small offer, though. It
wasn’t enough for the agent, and I said I understood – that if he couldn’t get
what he was looking for, he was welcome to come back to me. Some weeks later,
he called and said, “That offer still open?” The title was Shrunken Heads, which we changed to When the Bough Breaks, and it was the first Alex Delaware novel by
Jonathan Kellerman.

Also many, many years ago: I received a legal thriller,
which had already been sold to Hollywood, though that and a token, as we used
to say, got you on the subway. The author had one other book to his credit,
which had done nothing. I thought the book was okay, but I wasn’t nuts about
it, and a couple of other readers felt more or less the same. We decided that
if we didn’t feel we had to have it,
then we shouldn’t get involved. Doubleday felt differently, however – and the
book was The Firm.

So there you go.

At the risk of growing your submissions pile, what do you
look for in a new writer?

See #1.

You do a great deal of non-fiction work as well. What
makes a non-fiction title a success?

Depends on what your definition of success is (just as with
fiction). You always hope to make a profit, of course – that’s one. But there’s always a great satisfaction in a
book that makes noise, that reaches an audience, that creates some excitement
or fills a need. I published a memoir this January titled The Birthday Party. It was written by a one-time federal prosecutor
who was kidnapped off the streets of Manhattan, and what happened during his
bizarre, terrifying, and sometimes downright Tarantino-esque captivity. It was
a project very dear to the author’s heart, for obvious reasons, and he’d spent
many years getting it right. When it was published, he got tons of local media,
and then the New York Times gave it a rave, and he graduated to nationals like
NPR and CNN. The New Yorker wrote him up in “Talk of the Town.” United Artists
bought the movie rights. He’s on top of the world now. And whatever the book
ends up making, that’s a success.

Tell our unpublished readers three things they can do to
help get them noticed by an editor.

1) Get an agent 2) Get an agent 3) Get an
agent.

Can you tell us what every writer should know about their
editor, but doesn’t?

Absolutely. What people don’t always understand is that once
the editor and writer have finished working on the ms until it glows like a
little gem – that’s when the editor’s work has just begun. Because it’s then
the editor’s job to figure out how to publish
it, how to cut through the noise in the marketplace, how to increase the book’s
odds of success. Every editor must be a mini-publisher. It’s not enough to find
the book and edit the heck out of it. He has to be aware of every aspect of its
publication and what every department in the house needs to know and needs to
do to make that book successful – and this is true no matter what level you’re
aiming the book at.

The editor is the liaison between all the departments and
the author – sub rights, publicity, sales, production. He or she has always got
to be thinking: what does the publicity department need? Is there a particular
hook? Is there something that can get the author in the press? Does the author
have contacts we draw upon to give us quotes, write an article, set up an
autographing, buy quantities of a book? Does the author have a track record?
Sales has got to know. Has the author published in magazines, does she/he have a
friendly magazine editor? Sub rights has got to know. Is there any particular
look for the jacket that might help, any jackets you think it should look like
to reach the target audience? The art department has got to know. And so on.

I’ve got lots of stories about aspects of this – but this
interview is already getting long! Suffice it to say that anything the author
can do to help the editor in these efforts will bear fruit.

Do you believe the Internet has changed the face of
publishing in a good way?

The Internet’s definitely helped. Besides the fact that
books are universally available through it, there are many more publicity, and
to a certain extent, advertising possibilities for new books. If we have, say,
a novel about the Korean War, we have a guy here who’ll research Korean War
sites, contact them, offer news about the book or even free copies to be
included on the site. You’ve reached a core audience. Meanwhile, maybe you’ve
set up your own website for that book and linked it with others’, made the book
available to military bloggers, maybe advertised on some key sites. All kinds
of things are possible.

You can bring three writers from any time period along to
a deserted island. Who would you choose for pure entertainment value, who would
you to choose to provoke thought, and who would you choose to learn from?

Ah, I never know how to answer these questions. I’ll move
on, if you don’t mind.

What do you do in your down time? (Is there such a
thing?)

In my spare time, I love movies and theater – and I read a
lot. The key to the latter is making the time for free reading, because work
reading takes up so much time on evenings and weekends. I read, first of all,
because that’s why I’m in the business to begin with, a love of books. It’s
also important for perspective. I may have a ms for what seems to be an
excellent WWII thriller in front of me – but if I’ve haven’t read some of the
masters of the WWII thriller, I may not realize, no this manuscript is okay – these books are excellent.

Is there room for women writers in the ranks of crime
fiction at the level of the Lee Child and John Sandford, or will this remain an
exclusively male club?

An exclusively male club? Hmm, Sue Grafton might disagree.
And Patricia Cornwell, Janet Evanovich, Mary Higgins Clark, JD Robb. Not to
mention Sara Paretsky, Martha Grimes, Kathy Reichs, Elizabeth George, Lisa
Gardner, Lisa Jackson, Linda Fairstein, Iris Johansen, Faye Kellerman, JA
Jance, Kay Hooper, Diane Mott Davidson, Lisa Scottoline, Sandra Brown…..oh, you
get the point. Sure, some of these women aren’t at the levels of Lee Child and
John Sandford (and those two are at different levels, by the way), but some of
them sell quite a bit more!

Thank you so much for taking time to answer these questions.
It’s been an honor to have you at Murderati!

Wine of the Week: Well, let’s do something special to celebrate Neil’s contribution to the written word. Château Cos-d’Estournel St.-Estèphe

Full disclosure — I can’t afford this wine, so take an extra sip for me.