There’s a long goodbye
And it happens every day
When some passerby
Invites your eye
To come her way

Even as she smiles
A quick hello
You let her go
You let the moment fly
Too late you turn head
You know you’ve said
The long goodbye

Windy branches sigh
Can you recognize the theme
Down some autumn street
Two people meet
As in a dream
Running for a plane
Through the rain
With the heart it’s quicker
Than the eye
They might be lovers
Until they die

It’s too late to try
When a missed hello
Becomes the long goodbye

/Guyot

by Pari Noskin Taichert

One of the most damning criticisms reviewers and readers can lob is: "It’s too formulaic." The opposite of this dig seems to be the tired "transcends the genre" comment — as if that’s a good thing.

I used to think I knew what these meant. That was in the beginning of my career as a novelist. Those were the same years when I fought the subgenre in which I’d chosen to base my series.

Now, the more I learn, the more I’m confused. You see, I think just about every kind of fiction is formulaic.

First of all, there’s the little question of beginning-middle-end.
Then there’s protagonist-must-grow.
What about there-must-be-conflict?
Could a good thriller not contain hero-must-be-in-danger?
How about dialogue-must-move-the-story-forward?

From where I sit, formulas are everywhere.

IMHO, we bemoan predictability while actually craving it. That’s why genres and subgenres exist in the first place.

We know that in traditional romances, a man and woman meet. They don’t like each other. Something happens to change this initial response. Love blooms. Happy ending (with sex thrown in, please).

That’s why people read romances; they know what’s going to happen. Is there something wrong with that? Does the predictability make the read any less valid or pleasurable? Why does it earn our scorn?

In traditional mysteries, someone is murdered (or there’s another compelling crime). An amateur sleuth rises to the challenge and hunts down clues. He or she figures out who did it. Justice is served. Happy ending.

Opps. Sorry. Too formulaic.

In thrillers, we expect the David-Goliath set up: common man/woman against EVIL. The action, and there’s plenty of it, ratchets up until the breath-taking climax. Little David saves the day, exposes the conspiracy, prevents the virus from being released into the general population. We want that.

In noir, we’re guaranteed that awful things happen in weird ways. They spiral downward and won’t get better (ennui and world-weariness always add good spice here). We want this off-kilter reflection of our world.

Private investigators and policemen (and coroners and forensics experts) take cases and, most often, solve them. We want the experts, the skilled and knowledgeable, to succeed.

Where’s the formula crime perpetrated? In the writing? In the genre? In the plot?

I know that some books, like movies, leave me cold when I can predict the next scene or plot point. For some reason, I don’t want predictability on that smaller level. But if I’m reading or going to a comedy, I sure as hell expect to laugh during the experience.

"It’s too formulaic." What do we really mean by that?

Is there some kind of distinction we draw between micro and macro formulaic-ness? Where, in the work, is the sin committed that merits this horrid condemnation? Why do some books attract that odd praise about transcendence?

I’d love to hear from you about this; it truly fascinates me . . .

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

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

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

Sunday Morning Coming Down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/Guyot

Denise Dietz

                                               QUIBBLES & BITS

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

TWO "FUNNY" EDITING STORIES:

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

More on spell-check later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Over and Out,
Deni

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

Lansdale–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.

Together, 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.

Point of view.

The Narrative.

X touched on it back in December. It’s talked about a lot among writers, but for me, I still don’t freaking get it.

Okay, I get it mostly. But here’s where my head’s at today: we’ve got 1st person – everyone knows it, pretty tough to screw it up unless you’re writing a story that just shouldn’t be told in 1st person. But even then, you can’t really muck up the POV.

But this frocking 3rd person. We’ve got 3rd person omniscient, 3rd person limited, 3rd person objective, 3rd person subjective, 3rd person limited-omniscient, 3rd person limited-objective, and blah, bla-freaking blah.

WTF?

Does anyone really know the differences between these? Other than the obvious Wikipedia defs. I mean, how do we know when a book is 3rd person omniscient as opposed to poorly executed 3rd person objective? Or vise-versa?

Now, one of the problems I’ve had in going from screenwriting to prose is POV. At times I thought I was writing 3rd person omniscient, but it was pointed out to me that what I was really doing was a poor job of 3rd person limited. Or subjective. Or vise-versa.

Which leads me to…

Rules. We always hear about the rules of writing, and how it’s okay to break them ONLY if you understand them (which I believe), or you’re a very good (or successful) writer. But I gotta tell you, lately I’ve been reading some books where the rules of POV are being bent and broken, and it bugs the gerunds out of me. It takes me out of the story.

The latest book by a writer who I think is brilliant, one of the best out there, is a 3rd person story.
Now, I’m pretty sure the book is what would be called 3rd person subjective. And for me, I’m okay with the writer switching character POV’s within the 3rd person telling, so long as it’s done by chapter, or by paragraph. That’s pretty basic, right? Don’t most of us feel that way?

And this bestselling book does that. But it also jumps subjective POV within paragraphs. Not throughout the book, just in three or four spots. And when I hit these spots, it jumps out at me. It bugs me. But is it just me? The writer of this book knows a helluva lot more about writing than I do.

And then there’s my favorite book of all-time, LONESOME DOVE. This book is brilliant. Amazing. Stunning. Entertaining as all heck. It’s got about six thousand characters and though it’s 3rd person, we’re in each character’s head at different times. Sometimes sentence to sentence we’re switching POV’s. Freaking Larry McMurtry, writing the best freaking book I’ve ever read. Does anyone know more about sentence structure and language than old Lawrence? Is this 3rd omniscient? If so, where’s the narrator’s perspective?

And does any of it matter? Or does it, and we give free passes to big names? I recently got some feedback on my prose and one of the issues was that I jumped POV within my 3rd person narrative – at the wrong time. I did what McMurtry and this other great writer did.

Oh, before your eyes begin to roll, let me point out that I am in no way comparing myself to these folks. When my reader pointed out my issue, my reaction was, "Oh, God, they’re right. I screwed up." Because to me, it’s wrong. I wasn’t trying to do it, or being lazy – not intentionally – I just… screwed up.

In another book I recently read – one of those where the narrative shifts from 1st person to 3rd person via chapters – there is a 3rd person chapter happening. And in one scene the protagonist walks into the room, and suddenly we go into 1st person. But we didn’t start a new chapter. We were literally in 3rd person, inside a supporting character’s subjective POV, and in walked the character whose POV we’re in 1st person in other chapters… but suddenly we go inside the protag’s head – in 1st person.

Isn’t this wrong? It felt wrong. But again, this is a very skilled writer doing this. One with many books on the shelves, and many awards and much critical praise. So what do I know? Not much. At least not about this.

So, help me out. Throw me a bone. All of you who are smarter than me, please help me out… and that means, uh, one, two, three, the guy in his underwear sipping coffee, the chick on the phone, sixteen, seventeen, yeah… that means every one of you. Help me out.

Clarify all this POV shite for me. Explain the difference with all these 3rd persons – and I don’t mean the basic dictionary defs, I mean explain it. Help my pea brain understand it.

What’s right, what’s wrong, when can you switch, when can’t you? Why, if you’re looking at a manuscript – or even your own work – a sudden, out of place POV shift bothers you, but if you’re reading a NYTBS author’s latest smash hit, you look the other way? Or do you?

Or maybe you feel the same I do about all this – you just don’t get it – but have been afraid to admit it. I admit it. I’m an idiot.

So, help me.

Guyot

This week’s If I Picked Character’s Watches:

Phil Hawley’s fabulous Luke McKenna would wear an IWC Big Pilot Watch.

By the way, STIGMA goes on sale today. BUY THIS BOOK. I am offering a money-back guarantee… if you read this book and don’t like it, email me and I will GIVE YOU YOUR MONEY BACK. Yes, it’s true. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. BUY THIS BOOK.

I have a love/hate relationship with a bald man whose shimmering naked body has been dipped in gold paint.  Wait… that didn’t come out right.

I have a love/hate relationship with the Academy Awards. 

My complaints aren’t original.  At its worst, Oscar night is a self-congratulatory love fest full of millionaires patting each other on the back.  The broadcast is too long, 99% of the acceptance speeches are mind numbingly boring, and some of my favorite movies never even get a nod (and the Oscar for best foreign film goes to…Shaun of the Dead!).  And yet, I watch it every year for one reason and one reason only…to see Salma Hayek fill out an evening gown.

No, I watch it for those little moments that are off the cue cards.  Like last year when Jon Stewart pointed out the absurdity of the awards after a hip hop group won for best song.  "Martin Scorsese: Zero, Three 6 Mafia: One."  Or in 2002 when Michael Moore got booed off stage after his political rants against Bush (I wonder if they’d boo him now.).  Or when Cuba Gooding Jr. brought some life to the show in ’96 after his win for Jerry Maguire (what ever happened to that guy?).  Put simply, the Oscars are at their best when real life creeps in.

Okay, enough of the nostalgia.  What does this have to do with the writing biz?  For me, the Oscars brought to mind the subject of AWARDS.

I’ve had a couple editors nominate me for things in the past, but I’ve never made any finalists lists.  I won’t lie, on some level it bothered me.  Getting overlooked made me feel that my work didn’t have the same merit as others.  Being an infant in this industry, maybe I didn’t have the writer’s leather-tough skin yet.

The question becomes, was I right to feel that way?  After all, in most cases these things are judged by our peers, aren’t they?

And here’s a few more queries to keep you busy.

How important are awards in the publishing world?  An Oscar can add a few zeroes to your next paycheck.  What can an Edgar do for you?

And…

On a personal level, are awards important to you?  If you had to pick, would you rather have recognition from your peers or would you rather have a large following, while other writers looked down on your work?

Just a few things to think about tonight while watching beautiful people stumble through lame jokes written for them on cue cards.  Let’s hope some of them fumble and accidentally say something interesting. 

by Pari Noskin Taichert

Lord, save me from book raisers.
    Stay their hands.
    Lay their volumes upon the table . . . flat.
    If nothing else works, let the pages of their books fly unto the ground like ginko leaves in autumn.
Protect me from panelists who put down cohorts to raise self worth.
    Still their snipes.
    Silence too-frequent references to their own tomes.
    Melt their freebies.
Yea, verily, this I pray.

Liberate me from microphone hogs.
    Prohibit their ponderous verbosities.
    Give them short breath . . . or loose bowels.
O, Most High, keep moderators on track.
    Let them read their panelists’ works.
    Bless them with interesting topics and salient questions.
    Grant them humility in this one situation.
Yea, verily, this I pray.

Exalted One, give the room thick walls . . .
    Lest my panel be overpowered by the laughter next door.
    Lest my answers fail because of an off-key rock band practicing for a debutante ball.
Merciful One, may all the panelists be witty and articulate.
    May they respond in conversation rather than in the linear to-and-fro of a lengthy table.
    May they listen to other’s comments.
    May they answer the damn questions.
Yea, verily, this I pray.

Show mercy upon our audiences.
    Let us entertain them mightily and bore them not.
    Let us inspire curiosity and chase away slumber.
    Let our audiovisual equipment work.
Heavenly One, grant that the convention bar is big and the drinks generous.
    Encourage graceful communication.
    Free me from embarrassing gaffes that find their way onto the Internet and listservs.
    Keep the hotel food safe and devoid of salmonella and listeria.
Yea, verily, this I pray.

O, Joyous One, protect me from anger, jealousy, or a sense of entitlement.
    Give me the serenity to be myself.
    Bless me with the intelligence to retire to privacy before I become a boor in public.

Bring pleasure and success to both panelist and fan.
These things I pray.

Amen.

A news story rang my alarm bells last week.  It was just a quick blurb really, a time filler for a slow news day.  But hearing it sent my blood to full boil.   

My local ABC affiliate profiled Sharlene Bozack of the American Cancer Society.  In an interview, Bozack was quoted as saying, "I’d like to see smoking banned in all movies."   

I know.  I know. This is nothing new, but it still SCARES THE CRAP out of me.

The woman’s intentions were great.  She believed movies glamorized smoking and thus influenced children to pick up the habit.  And she is not alone in her convictions.  According to Time Magazine,"…a mandatory R rating for movies that feature smoking has been endorsed by the World Health Organization and the American Medical Association…"

Okay, so we ban images of smoking on film.  Smoking is bad for you; no one can argue with me there.  So let’s ban it from the movies.  Who’s s with me?

But hey, what about illegal drug use?  Illegal drug use is bad for you, right?  So let’s ban that from film too.  Who’s with me?

Alcohol?  Kids shouldn’t dink alcohol, should they?  Let’s ban it.  Captain Jack Sparrow can drink root beer. 

Hmmmm, wait a minute.  Root beer has a lot of sugar in it and sugar is bad for kids.  Also, it does have the word "BEER" in its name.  So maybe we better ban it too.  Just to be safe.  Sparrow can drink water.

What’s that you say?  You don’t want to ban root beer from PG-13 films?  What kind of SICK BASTARD are you?  You must hate children. 

My heavy-handed point is this–once you start banning things from art you create a slippery slope.  It starts with good intentions and ends with ignorance, intolerance and bonfires stacked high with books. 

I’m not a fan of smoking.  It’s a filthy habit, and I’m convinced it took years off my father’s life.  I’m also not a fan of the tobacco industry and their past attempts to use films as commercials for cigarettes.  But banning images of smoking from movies is a horrible idea.

The world is full of sharp edges. You can’t put bumpers around all of them.

Deni Dietz

My blog titles seem to be getting longer and longer. Almost as long as my book titles.

Except the book I’m working on now has a one-word title: JUDY. It’s the name of an Elvis song, but I’ll bet you knew that.

Oh Judy, don’t let our sweet love
Wither and die like flowers in the fall
Oh Judy, don’t you know it’s you
I love most of all…

But I digress…

This week’s Quibbles & Bits is: PACKING FOR A CONFERENCE

A week from tomorrow I leave for Madison Wisconsin and Bouchercon (visualize one of those trademark thingies here), and the age-old question has, once again, come up.

How do I lose 20 lbs in 7 days?

Only kidding. Okay, half kidding.

The question is, of course, what to pack?

1]  Smiles. For an author, getting caught without a smile is like locking yourself out of your room while wearing nothing more than a hotel towel (been there, done that, and let me tell you, it’s not as funny as it looks in the movies).

2]  Books. Yes, the Dealers will carry Denise Dietz books. No, they won’t have enough on hand. And they won’t have my OOP (Out Of Print) books. So I’ll have OOPs and back-ups, just in case some wonderful, lovely reader says, "I tried to buy your books, Deni, but the Dealers are out of them."

By the way, I carry a little suitcase filled with my books when I board airplanes, ever since a sweet lady noted my T-shirt with one of my book titles on it and I sold 4 books to fellow flight passengers. Hey, every little bit helps!

3]  What am I forgetting? Oh, yes, clothes. I received the following email from a first-time conference attendee: "I’d planned to wear business style attire. Will I be overdressed? I’m hearing jeans and Nikes are in."

My answer: "Jeans and sneakers are perfectly acceptable. Whatever’s comfortable! I’ll be packing jeans and T-shirts, plus what my husband calls "jumpers" (blazers? suit jackets?) to wear with my jeans. I might pack one skirt, but that’s denim too. And I’ve heard the weather might be somewhat cool, so I’m packing a couple of sweaters. Again, wear whatever’s comfy."

I’ve moderated conference panels. For one conference, the pre-panel instructions told me to "look professional." My dictionary defines professional as "characterized or conforming to the technical or ethical standards of a profession." Apparently, they wanted me to look like a mystery author! My dictionary also defines professional as "engaged in by persons receiving financial return." Hahahahaha.

I’ve attended romance conferences, where I’ve been told that by wearing jeans and tees I don’t project the "proper romance author image."

So I don’t go to romance cons anymore 🙂

In any case, conference attendees only look at pecs and breasts…or wherever the name tag happens to land. Clothes are superfluous.

For those of you who have been to conferences, what is YOUR packing advice?

This week’s Household Hint comes from EYE OF NEWT’s Mercy the Parrot. Mercy is very vain and speaks with a Brit accent. She says: "Spray air freshener to clean your mirrors. It does a good job and leaves a lovely smell to the shine."

Over and Out,
Deni