Feeling A Draft

I’ve had several experiences recently that were very interesting for me as a writer.

The first one was going to a readers’ group meeting at a small local library in Knott End in Lancashire. The tremendously enthusiastic librarian, Anne Errington, had been unable to get enough copies of one of the Charlie Fox books for everyone in the group to read, so they’d all read different ones in the series, often out of order. This meant that they asked more than the usual kind of questions. They wanted to know a lot more about the character of Charlie herself, and her motivations, and whether I’d ever tell the story of what really happened to her in the army.

Something that came up was that many people assumed I’d already told that tale somewhere, and they simply hadn’t yet read the particular book in which it was contained in full. The experiences of Charlie’s past form an integral part of who she is now, and although the character has progressed, I’ve only ever referred to her army days as back story, dribbled in as a bit here and a bit there, in order not to bore either the readers, or myself.

I’m not even sure I ever want to tell that story over the course of an entire book. It’s a period in Charlie’s life when she is beaten and utterly defeated. I introduced the character and began the series at a later date, when she has clawed her way back up out of that defeat. And when her life is again threatened in a similar way, this time she reacts differently. Possibly in a way she would not have been able to respond, had she not suffered in the past.

Back story is a funny one to include, and if you have a series character who never changes, is there any need to include it at all? The late great Robert B Parker rarely alluded to past cases of his iconic PI, Spenser. In fact, the guy didn’t even age. Lee Child’s Jack Reacher is very much the same. You’re told how Reacher acquired the scar on his stomach, from a Marine’s exploding jawbone back in his army days, but you’re not told what happened in the last book, and there really is no need for you to know this in order to enjoy the ride.

The second thing that happened was that I received an email from a student in Copenhagen, asking a specific question about a short story I wrote a little while ago called ‘Tell Me’. The story was written for a Crime Writers’ Association (CWA) anthology called I.D.: CRIMES OF IDENTITY and the whole thrust of the story was a conversation between a crime scene investigator and a victim, with the CSI trying to discover the background and history of the girl that has brought her to this point. The story was turned into a short film, and also included in a Danish school text book, which asked readers to interpret it in ways that, frankly, even I would have struggled to provide answers for.

Who or what does the girl symbolise?

Comment on the dialogue. How and where does the real dialogue take place? Where in the story is the truth behind the dialogue revealed to the reader?

Analyse the use of ‘tell’ throughout the story.

Comment on the theme of gender roles in the text.

OK, this is me sidling away quietly at this point, muttering, ‘But it was just a story …’

The third thing that happened was last night. I found a well-established writing group in Kendal, which is not quite as far as I’ve been travelling, and somewhat larger than the very small group I’ve been to over the last few months. The Kendal group asked for three or four people to email pieces round beforehand, and the purpose of the meeting was for everyone to be able to comment in detail on those pieces.

I sent in the first chapter of the new Charlie Fox book. I didn’t explain particularly who I was, or my writing experience, and I didn’t include any kind of introduction for the book or the character. It’s another flash-forward opening, which I’ve used previously, so it drops the reader straight into the thick of the action. I wanted gut reactions to the writing, without any preconceived ideas.

And when I attended last night’s meeting and we all introduced ourselves, it was a little like a group of addicts. ‘Hi, my name is Zoë and I write crime fiction.’ The only difference was that I didn’t get a round of applause for this shameful admission.

And the questions here were different again.

I’d mentioned the word ‘principal’ meaning someone my bodyguard main protagonist was previously tasked to protect. One person thought this might refer to the principal actor in a theatre company.

The action starts on a beach in Long Island, with Charlie and her boss, Parker, excavating a grave. I don’t pinpoint this, but because of the mentions of digging in hot sand and the vague military tone brought about by Charlie’s army background, someone else assumed the story was a thriller set in Iraq.

Several people thought Charlie was male.

The use of metric measurements threw someone else. They queried whether an American character would think in terms of 40mm plumbing pipe, sticking a metre out of the ground.

I realised that when I sent the initial chapter out, I should also have included the flap-copy synopsis, which I always have at the back of my mind when I write an opening for the book, because I’ve always written that bit first. I take my jumping off point for the story itself after that, because it has already explained who and what the character is, and where the book’s set. To me, it would seem very stilted in a first-person narrative to jump into an action scene and have to explain about her being a ‘her’ for a start, and a bodyguard, and being on Long Island. And I also realised that if this had been a short story, without that brief synopsis, I would have tackled it in a completely different way.

And, obviously, during the discussion I ‘fessed up to being already a published author. But right at the end, one of the organisers asked me why, in that case, I wanted to come to a writing group? It’s a good question, and I think a lot of it has to do with the way I write.

I don’t dash off a very rough first draft, then rewrite the whole thing again and again in order to polish and hone it. I edit furiously during the writing process. Therefore, by the time I finish what is, in effect, my first draft, it’s not too far off finished. In order to get it to that stage, I fiddle a lot as I go, often feeling that I can’t go forwards until I’ve got the bit I’m working on right. Having ongoing criticism – the harsher the better – is extremely useful to me in order to make minor course corrections as I go.

And this, having someone approach my characters cold, as it were, was an illuminating experience.

So, ‘Rati, when it comes to questions this week, take your pick. If you’re a writer, do you self-edit or just get the words down and worry about fixing them later? Have you ever had a question about your work that really made you stop and think, or that confused you completely?

And, regardless of writing or not, what’s the best piece of constructive or destructive criticism you’ve ever received?

This week’s Word of the Week is rident, meaning laughing or smiling radiantly, beaming.

American Beauty

by Rob Gregory Browne

Last time I spoke about the things I hate. Trivial matters, most of them. Petty annoyances that drive me crazy.

Today I want to talk about something I truly detest. Something that I don’t think is in the least bit petty, and has created such a crisis in our society that I can only believe that we’re doomed if we continue as we have been.

No, I’m not talking politics.

Although I have strong political feelings in my private life, lately I’ve been trying to step away from such things. Politics has become such an ugly, ugly part of our world (yes, uglier than usual), that I’ve come to find myself being annoyed even by some of the people who share my own political points of view. (I say “points” because nothing is black and white, and I’m all over the map sometimes.)

So no politics. At least not the in-your-face, vote-for-my-candidate/cause kind.

And yes, there are many things that I detest about this world (and many things I love), but I only want to speak about one of them today.

My typical writing day, now that I no longer have a “real” job, is spent getting up fairly early in the morning — 6 AM or so — drinking a cup of coffee (cream, two sugars), then sitting down at my brand new iMac (admittedly one of the things I love, even though I’m a PC guy) and writing for a few hours.

When it comes time for a break, I usually grab some breakfast, then sit down, watch something on TV or Netflix, or do some chores while listening to a book (currently Lee Child’s Gone Tomorrow).

For the last couple of days, however, I’ve found myself immersed in a documentary on Netflix called America the Beautiful.

Now, I’m sure a lot of you are thinking “politics” again, but no, this documentary isn’t really about politics, but about the systematic breaking down of the human spirit — particularly the female spirit — and replacing it with an insecurity so strong that some women are willing to destroy themselves in order to feel whole again.

I’m talking the beauty, fashion and advertising industries that go out of their way to make just about every woman in America (if not on the planet) feel that she is not nearly as beautiful as she should be.

According to the movie, the United States makes up 5% of the world’s population, but consumes 40% of its advertising. And advertising is shrewdly designed to destory our psyches, then promise to make us feel better by giving us the “cure.”

I suppose this isn’t really anything new or relevatory. Most of us know this has been going on for decades, maybe centuries, yet we continue to let advertisers manipulate us all the way to the bank.

Two of the worst industries, which are particularly good at preying on women’s insecurities are the beauty and fashion industries, where we’re led to believe that a woman can only be truly beautiful if she’s 5’9″, skinny as a rail, has flawless skin, perfect hair, a small, tight ass and large, gloriously symmetrical boobs.

This image, however, is presented through photographic manipulation that turns even the “most beautiful” women in the world — the models — into creatures that no god could ever create. A woman so perfect, so flawless, that such beauty in the real world is completely unobtainable.

This, in turn, not only destroys a woman’s self-confidence, it conditions young men to crave only perfection, and to look at normal women as something less than desirable. Even the filmmaker himself admitted that he broke up with a beautiful and loving girlfriend because she couldn’t live up to his distorted view of what true physical beauty should be.

And that, to me, is just heartbreaking.

But even more heartbreaking is the twelve year-old girl he features throughout the film, who has taken the modeling world by storm — not dressing and acting as a twelve year-old, but looking closer to twenty-two. The effect this has on her life, and on the lives of her friends, is something to see. And learn from.

But most heartbreaking to me, was a short interview with another twelve year-old who, to my mind, was just as beautiful as the young model. Yet she tells us that when she looks in the mirror, all she sees is ugly.

Another girl tells us of a friend who was so unhappy with the way she looked that she starved herself to death. This, unfortunately, is a story that is all too common in this country.

I won’t go on any more. Murderati is generally a feel good place and I know I’m not making anyone feel very good right now. But I think it’s important that we look around us and consider these things. That we realize that we’re part of the problem, too, if we allow ourselves and our children to be conditioned and indoctrinated and ultimately destroyed by this cynical exploitation.

It’s something I detest. And I hope you do, too.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good. We all want to look our best. But it’s our best we should be striving for. If we allow an industry that’s only trying to make money off of us to define what looking good means, then we’re in very serious trouble.

Last thing: the documentary includes a a couple of short films which some of you may have seen before, but I wanted to show you again. I think they say it all:

Take The Words Right Out Of My Mouth

By Louise Ure

The trade paperback edition of LIARS ANONYMOUS comes out in just two weeks, and with a brand new cover.

Isn’t that gorgeous? Equally eerie as the hard cover design but perhaps more ominous. As it should be.

In preparing for that launch, I was going back through some of the final paperwork on the novel and the plans and decisions made when it first came out. And what I found set me laughing so hard that it made up for a week’s worth of worry, stumbles and rain clouds.

I found a list of comments on the manuscript made by some unnamed copy editor at St. Martins.

Now, I adore copy editors of all shapes and sizes. In FORCING AMARYLLIS one copy editor discovered as we were going to press that I had set a pivotal courtroom scene on a Sunday. In THE FAULT TREE, one eagle-eyed editor noticed that I had moved a character’s cowlick from the front of his head (page 39) to the back of his head (page 225).

These are mistakes up with which readers should not put. I am forever grateful for the tireless efforts, intelligence and thinking that got those errors corrected.

But there’s another kind of copy editor, too. The kind who lives in a bubble of small thinking and even less curiosity … the kind of copy editor who would write this:

From Page 38: I walked farther north, toward a massive cottonwood tree that listed toward the arroyo like a dowsing rod. It stood fifty or sixty feet high, proof that this dry wash had once run full and that there remained enough water under the sand to sustain life. The tree had branched into three separate trunks down near its base, giving it a wide and low canopy of leaves like a sombrero.

(Note to author: Are trees in the southwest even big enough to climb?)

Response to copy editor: Yes, you imbecile. Please reread that part of the sentence where the tree is described as being right on the back of a once water-filled arroyo. And trust the word of someone who grew up there.

From Page 50: I spiked my hair with American Greaser, the only beauty product I use, and put on my favorite “keep your distance” t-shirt: “Some days it’s just not worth chewing through the restraints.” The tattooed jacks around my biceps were clearly visible.

(Note to author: Is it possible to say something this long on a t-shirt?)

Response to copy editor: Yes, you cretin. Especially the size I wear.

From Page 52: “¿Como está Felicia?” the woman beside me asked of the bartender.

(Note to author: “I don’t speak or write Spanish but this looks wrong to me.”)

Response to copy editor: Oh, really? Then maybe you should ask someone who speaks and writes Spanish.

From Page 72: I parked around the corner with a clear view of the back door through a tiny slice of space between a tree and a three-bay body shop. Felicia probably wouldn’t recognize my truck from here and, parked behind the tree the way I was, she wouldn’t be able to see my face either. I’d been there a half hour when the garage closed.

(Note to author: Three-bay body shop? Is this a brand name? I don’t drive so I don’t know.)

Response to copy editor: No, it’s not a brand name. And by the way, I don’t eat tofu but I still know what it is.

From Page 100: Beverly was just as petite as I remembered from our high school days — soft, rounded curves and pouter pigeon breasts — but her face had become that of a disappointed adult, with a built-in scowl and the onset of gray where she parted her hair.

(Note to author: “What kind of breasts do pigeons have?”)

Response to copy editor: Oh, my. Where to begin?

From Page 107: He put my keys and purse down on the concrete slab porch and stepped over to an ice chest near the sliding glass door. He pulled out two bottles of beer, opened them with a hinge on the side of the Igloo and held one out to me.

(Note to author: Are you calling the ice chest an igloo as a joke or is it a brand name of something?)

Response to copy editor: See above-referenced note about tofu. And the one that asks “where to begin?”

From Page 160: I heard the throaty roar of a big V8 outside, bragging on its horsepower and torque. I pulled the curtain to the side.

The black low rider came around again and this time the song blasting from the windows was about the hazards of smuggling. The four bandanaed bobbleheads in the car nodded and swayed to the beat. The guy in the front passenger seat stared at the house, then finger-shot me the way he had at the intersection on Friday.

(Note to author: I cannot verify the meaning of “bobbleheads.”)

Response to copy editor: Well, there you go. I guess there are some mysteries in life that just aren’t meant to be solved.

From Page 198: The setting sun turned the sky to persimmon then to bruise.

(Note to author: Is bruise a color?)

Response to copy editor: In my world, yes. And a noun. And a verb. And a threat.

From Page 216: “I’m telling you, man. I only just heard about it. I was in Nogales when you and the chica came in. I heard you asking about Carlos. That’s why I called.” The kid was flop sweat-nervous, but I didn’t know if he was afraid of Guillermo’s temper or the Braceros’ retribution.

(Note to author: Flop-sweat? What is this?)

Response to copy editor: It’s that unique combination of chills, stinky sweat and light-headedness that overcomes you when you see your career as a copy editor disappearing before your eyes.

From Page 319: Cambria Styles hadn’t changed much in the three years since I’d seen her. Dishwater blond hair, poker-straight almost to her waist. Sallow skin like she was an underwater creature. I reintroduced myself.

(Note to author: What color is dishwater?)

Response to copy editor: Oh, to be so young and innocent.

Of course, I didn’t really write all those nasty replies. But I did use my favorite four-letter word. Often.

STET.

What about you, ‘Rati? Any copy editing horror stories to share?

Author Bios: What’s Missing from the Back Inside Flap

by Alafair Burke

I promise this next sentence is an honest intro to today’s post, not just BSP: This weekend I officially joined the board of directors of Mystery Writers of America and became President of the New York chapter. (Pause for applause.)

In preparation for the annual MWA board funfest (aka orientation day), the unparalleled Margery Flax requested a biography to distribute to fellow board members. I sent her the usual jacket copy:

A formal deputy district attorney in Portland, Oregon, Alafair Burke now teaches criminal law at Hofstra Law School and lives in New York City. A graduate of Stanford Law School, she is the author of the Samantha Kincaid series, which includes the novels Judgment Calls, Missing Justice, and Close Case. Most recently, she published Angel’s Tip, her second thriller featuring Ellie Hatcher.

Her response was polite, quick, and resoundingly clear, something like, “Are you sure that’s all you want to include? This is usually a longer fun one, only for internal board distribution.”

In other words, Yawn, Snore, Zzzz….

I can take a hint, so I gave it another try. Borrowing in part from my website, I allowed myself thirty minutes to hammer out something that would give those who hadn’t met me yet some sense of who I am and where I’ve been. Margery’s assurance that this was purely internal was freeing.

After I submitted my specially-designated “MWA board bio,” I couldn’t stop thinking about the sterileness of those book jacket author bios, scrubbed clean of all personality. As writers, we’re committed to exploring the human stories that lurk beneath the superficial, but when asked to describe ourselves: Yawn, snore, zzzz…..

I’ve spoken a few times during author appearances about a hypothetical world in which books (like the law school exams I grade as a professor) would be published anonymously, their authors known only by a randomly assigned number that readers could use to “identify” the authors they consistently enjoyed. After all, what separates reading from television and film is the active role of our mind’s eye. To read books without knowing an author’s age, gender, race, religion, region, education, attractiveness, or work experience might truly unleash our imaginations.

Despite my musings about a utopia of anonymous publishing, I’ve come to realize why publishers emphasize (and readers desire) personal information about authors. The most delightful unexpected benefit of writing has been meeting some of my favorite authors. I already read these folks religiously before I met them, but I’ll admit that I read them differently — and more richly — now. I recognize the wry winks in Laura Lippman’s most leisurely paragraphs. I hear Michael Connelly’s quiet voice in Bosch. I think I really know what Lisa Unger means when she writes on Ridley Jones’s behalf that she’s a “dork.” And those short, little, maddeningly frustrating sentences from Lee Child are now sexy as hell.

But I didn’t get any of that from the book jackets.

As the traditional print media and personal appearance opportunities for authors to introduce themselves to readers continue to dry up, many of us have taken to the Web. We do that not only to get our names out there, but also because we recognize that readers are more likely to experience our written work as intended if they come to it with a sense of who we are. (For example, an online reviewer once dissed a line of Ellie Hatcher’s, something like “kicking it old school.” The fact that it’s corny to talk that way is of course precisely why she’d say such a thing. And if the reader “got” Ellie or anything about my work, he’d know that’s — ahem — just how we roll.)

So as we’re knocking ourselves out to convey our souls to readers, maybe we should take another look at book jacket bios. The publishers are going to type something beneath that favorite photo: It may as well be interesting. And so, even though Margery promised to keep this unsanitized bio a secret, I’ve decided to blast it out to the world:

Alafair Burke is the author of six novels in two series, one featuring NYPD Detective Ellie Hatcher, the other with Portland prosecutor Samantha Kincaid. Although reviewers have described both characters as “feisty,” Alafair might accidentally spill a drink on anyone who invokes that word to describe her or anyone she cares about.

Alafair grew up in Wichita, Kansas, whose greatest contribution to her childhood was a serial killer called BTK. Nothing warps a young mind quite like daily reports involving the word, bind, torture, and kill.

From Kansas, Alafair dreamed of fleeing west. Fearing their daughter might fall prey to a 1980’s version of the Manson Family (um, Nelson?), her parents prohibited her from attending school in California. Ironically, she ended up at Reed College, where the bookstore sold shirts that read “Atheism, Communism, Free Love,” and Alafair found herself (lovingly) nicknamed Nancy Reagan and The Cheerleader.

From Reed, Alafair went to the decidedly less hippy-ish Stanford Law School. Although she went with dreams of becoming an entertainment lawyer so she could make deals at the Palm and score seats at the Oscars, she eventually realized she had watched “The Player” one too many times, and instead decided to pursue criminal law because she was obsessed with the Unabomber.

Most of Alafair’s legal practice was as a prosecutor in Portland, Oregon, where she infamously managed to tally up a net loss on prison time imposed during her prosecutorial career. (Help spring two exonerated people from prison to put a guy called the Happy Face Killer behind bars, and it really ruins your numbers.) As hard as it is for her to believe, she is now a professor at Hofstra Law School.

When Alafair is not teaching classes or writing, she enjoys rotting her brain. She runs to an iPod playlist with three continuous hours of spaz music (think “It Takes Two” by DJ Rob Bass, “Smooth Criminal” by Alien Art Farm, and “Planet Claire” by the B-52’s). She insists that Duran Duran, the Psychedelic Furs, and the Cure hold up just as well as the so-called classics. She watches way too much television, usually on cable. She wants Tina Fey to be her BFF. She likes to drink wine and cook.

She discloses TMI on the Interwebs, blogging regularly at Murderati and logging teenage-territory hours on Facebook. She will golf at the drop of a hat even though she’s bad at it.

Most importantly, Alafair loves her husband, Sean, and their French bulldog, The Duffer. She also loves her parents, but if you ask her about them, she’ll ask you about yours.

What do you think? Should all authors let loose on their jacket flaps? Would it affect that crucial decision of whether to purchase? Would it change how we read? If you’re a writer, what should your author bio REALLY say? And if you’re a reader, what would you like to know about some of your favorite writers?

P.S. As a follow up to my last post about my sometimes odd marketing attempts, I brought a video today for Show and Tell. Not the usual literal movie trailer, the clip is intended to evoke the themes, setting, and tone of my new book, 212, out in March. It also allowed me to bop around to Lady GaGa for countless hours and tally it mentally as work-related. What do you think?

No Man Is An Island

By Allison Brennan

Late last night I finished the last of my Thriller Best First Novel entries. Reading three books in one day wasn’t fun, especially since I’m in the middle of revisions that are due now. Well, it wasn’t exactly three full books, because I had started each of them long ago, but these were the three that I really had a hard time with and thus kept putting aside because I just didn’t want to finish them.

But I’m sure other people loved them. I know at least one person did–the editor who bought the book. I’m rarely critical of books because I know that my tastes are not everyone else’s tastes, just like I know that some people love my books–and some people don’t.

Editors buy books they love. They have to love them–they’re going to be reading, and re-reading, that book many times. They’ll be fighting for that book in editorial and marketing and sales and art meetings.

For me to love a book, and give it a high score, there has to be three things present.

3) An interesting story. Whether a romance or a mystery or a thriller, or a blend of all three, I need to be interested in the story itself. This is what I’m really looking for when I read cover copy–the basic plot. Most books I put back on the shelf because the plot doesn’t sound interesting to me.

2) Voice. Voice is an interesting story told well. It’s what makes the multitude of similar plot lines fresh and unique. Voice is the rhythm an author “speaks” on the page. There’s some voices that hit us and we cringe; others that are like music. Voice is what has me falling in love with an author.

1) Characters. I have to care about SOMEBODY. I have to want the hero to live and not strangle him because he’s an idiot or toss the book because he’s a jerk. The plot is important–what are the stakes, why are they important, what will happen if the bad guy wins? But I need at least one character I can believe in. He can be flawed. He can be imperfect. But he has to be more good than bad, and his bad can’t be evil. Maybe I’m too simple in my tastes, but I want a good guy.

There’s also the matter of getting into the character’s heads. Some authors are incredible this way–I feel like I’m in the POV character’s shoes. There’s a depth of character, inner conflict, personal strife, that I can feel as the story unfolds. If I’m there with the characters, and care that they survive, and the author’s voice is music to my ears, and the story is interesting–I’ll always score the book high, even if the writing itself isn’t brilliant or there’s a plot problem or two. Why? Because if my personal criteria is met, I can read without sensing the passage of time. And if I can lose myself in a book, it’s like living a completely new life for a few hours. It’s quite a heady experience.

The television show HEROES had me greatly worried for awhile. It still has me a little worried. There is one Good Guy and lots of nearly good guys and lots of nearly bad guys and a Very Bad Guy. Peter Petrelli is the Good Guy. (We won’t go into Claire because she often annoys me and sometimes does TSTL things, but because she regenerates she always lives.) I need Peter to stay the Good Guy. He can do the wrong thing for the right reasons, and he can make mistakes, but his goals must remain noble. For a few episodes, I feared that Peter was being sent down the wrong, dark path. Which would have been completely against his character and tick me off. Fortunately, he ended up making the right choices.

Some of the characters I met in my contest reading were cardboard cut-outs. The book may have been a thriller–and usually met my “interesting story” criteria–but I didn’t care about the characters in the the story, and thus didn’t care what happened to them or the world.

Before I was published, I never put a book down unfinished. Even if it was awful, I’d finish it (albeit I might skimread it!) But now I have far too many unread books, and I don’t have time to waste on a so-so book, or a book that just doesn’t do it for me.

But I made the commitment, so I had to finish these books.

I discovered that they all had one fatal flaw, for me at any rate. I didn’t care about anyone in the story. I didn’t care about the hero, the villain, the victims (if there were victims) or even the stakes. The books were well-paced and technically well-written, but, as Rhett Butler would say, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Without the depth of character, I felt like I was observing a black-and-white B-movie with no subtext. There was no color, no emotion.

I thought I was done with contests, but my RITA books are on their way. Fortunately, I only have to read seven books (two of which I’ve already read) and I have two months, as opposed to thirty books in three months. Much, much easier!

I’m presenting a class on Rule Breaking this month. It’s one of my favorite subjects 🙂 . . . one of the things I talk about is passion in writing. That you have to love what you’re writing. You have to love your characters–even the bad guys. You also have to challenge your characters, hurt them, make them suffer. In unpublished contests I’ve found that too many authors pull their punches. Well? What’s interesting about characters who are just like everyone else?

I’ve been reading Donald Maass’ FIRE IN FICTION. I like Maass’ books because they’re straightforward and “talk” to me in ways that other writing books don’t. He wrote some things that struck me as I was in the middle of writing ORIGINAL SIN last year:

“Is your protagonist an ordinary person? Find in him any kind of strength. . . . Without a quality of strength on display, your readers will not bond with your protagonist. Why should they? . . . So what is strength? It can be as simple as caring about someone, self-awareness, a longing for change, or hope. Any small positive quality will signal to your readers that your ordinary protagonist is worth their time.”

A protagonist is different than a hero, to which Maass says:

“Is your protagonist a hero–that is, someone who is already strong? Find in him something conflicted, fallible, humbling or human. . . . Be sure to soften the flaw with self-awareness or self-deprecating humor . . . What is a flaw that will not prove fatal? A personal problem, a bad habit, a hot button, a blind spot, or anything that makes your hero a real human being will work.”

And perhaps the most valuable point:

“The effect of one character upon another is as particular as the characters themselves.”

These last two points is where I found the most problems in the recent books I read. Heroic characters whose flaws weren’t integral to the story, they were forced or worse, there were no flaws–or the flaw was seen as something positive by the character, i.e. they had no sense of how their actions affected those around them. The characters often seemed to act and think in a bubble–as if everyone was a catalyst, and no one changed by the end of the book.

There was one book I read that I scored very high that wasn’t the best written book in the pile. But from page one I was sucked in because I cared about what happened to the characters. They grew over the course of the book and I could absolutely feel the impact they had on each other, not just the main characters but the other characters they met on the way.

“No man is an island.” We all affect the people we meet. Characters should, too.

What are some of the more powerful characters you’ve seen recently in fiction or film and why?

Brave new e world

by Alexandra Sokoloff

Well, Tess said something apocalyptically frightening in her post on Tuesday:

E-book land is going to be a busy, anarchic universe with a dizzying array of great books sold along with bad books, and lord knows how it’s all going to shake out.

And hanging over us all will be the one thing that could doom us all. Piracy. Once books can be copied and disseminated for free, there will be no way to make a living in the writing profession. I fear that it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

And we will look back on this era as the last age of the professional writer.

Thanks, Tess, just what I needed to hear going into a new year.

I guess it’s no big secret anymore that the publishing industry is undergoing a revolution that has us all in shock, awe, fear, or simple paralysis.

One of the components of this revolution is the e reader, as Tess talks about in her post.

At the end of the year, along with my agent, I made the decision to publish Screenwriting Tricks For Authors, the workbook I wrote based on my blog and the story structure articles I’ve posted here at Murderati, at the Kindle store. It’s now up for sale here.

There were a million reasons. Well, okay, not a million, I just always like the sound of that number, and I’m a Pisces and can’t count to save my life.

But some of the reasons are –

– I TRULY needed to get the information on my blog into a coherent order, and a blog is not the greatest format for what I am trying to convey.

– I’m being asked to teach a lot, these days, and I can’t possibly take the time anymore to print the workbook at Kinko’s for distribution to my students, and when Amazon started making Kindle books available to PC users, and is promising a Mac version imminently, that made Kindle publishing the easiest instant solution. And a Kindle or PC version is far cheaper for students to buy than a hardcopy version, about a third of the cost. That part was just a no-brainer.

– I am constantly adding to the info on my blog and with Kindle, you can republish a new version any time, instantly, without cost. Now that is cool.

– It’s not huge money, but a LOT more in royalties, comparatively, than other options.

– Publishing on Kindle doesn’t tie up other publication rights – if I am offered a good book contract for the workbook, I can just take it.

– Peer pressure from Joe Konrath, who has a lot to say about Kindle and other e publishing, but you could start here.

Really, this is a revolution, and while I’m not personally comfortable publishing a novel on Kindle, at least not yet, I am excited to stick at least a toe in the water by publishing this workbook. Anyone can take the time and click through links on my blog and get a lot of the same info for free, but if you find what I’ve written on the subject is useful, $9.99 is not such a huge chunk of change to put down to have the whole deal in coherent order. Plus, you know, supporting an author whose information you are using is good karma.

So this is a New Year’s experiment, which I’ll keep everyone posted on. So far the only drawback I’ve experienced is intense complaining from non-Kindle, non-PC (meaning Mac) readers who want the book downloadable or in hardcopy for them NOW.

In the meantime I’ll keep blogging about craft, because God knows it’s exhausting – if not outright terrifying – trying to keep come up with posts on your personal life.

So I’ve been teaching another online class these last two weeks. NOT the greatest time for an online class, actually, because everyone is still so dazed from the holidays and just trying to get back in the swing of things. Um… especially me. Still, I am as always finding the teaching completely inspiring – I love hearing other writers talk about their stories and characters and writing processes. And new writers have all that, you know – hope.

The discussion so far has completely reinforced my belief that the best thing that you can do to help yourself with story structure is to look at and compare in depth 5-10 (ten being best!) stories – films, novels, and plays – that are structurally similar to yours.

The late and much-missed Blake Snyder said that all film stories break down into just ten patterns that he outlined in his Save The Cat! books. Dramatist Georges Polti claimed there are Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations and outlined those in his classic book.

I think those books on the subject are truly useful – as I say often, I think you should read everything. But I believe you also have to get much more specific than ten plots or even thirty-six.

(I also think it’s plainly lazy to use someone else’s analysis of a story pattern instead of identifying your own. Relying on anyone else’s analysis, and that for sure includes mine, is not going to make you the writer you want to be.)

For example, in the class that I’m teaching now, without giving details of anyone’s plots, there is a reluctant witness story, a wartime romance story, an ensemble mystery plot, a mentor plot, a heroine in disguise plot. And others.

Each of those stories has a story pattern that you could force into one of ten general overall patterns – I guess – but they also have unique qualities that would get lost in such a generalization. And all of those stories could also be categorized in OTHER ways besides “reluctant witness” or “hero in disguise”.

Harry Potter, for example, is what you could call a King Arthur story – the chosen one coming into his or her own (also see Star Wars, The Matrix…) but it is told as a traditional mystery, with clues and red herrings and the three kids playing detectives. It’s also got strong fairy tale elements. So if you’re writing a story that combines those three (and more) types of stories, looking at examples of ANY of those types of stories is going to help you structure and brainstorm your own story.

If you find you’re writing a “reluctant witness” or “accidental witness” story, whether it’s a detective story, a sci-fi setting, a period piece, or a romance, it’s extremely useful to look at other stories you like that fall into that “reluctant witness” category – like Witness, North By Northwest, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Conspiracy Theory, Someone To Watch Over Me.

If you’re writing a mentor plot, you could take a look at Silence of the Lambs, The Karate Kid, Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, An Officer and a Gentleman, Dirty Dancing, all stories in completely different genres with strong mentor plot lines, with vastly different mentor types.

A Mysterious Stranger story has a very specific plotline, too: a “fixer” character comes into the life of a main character, or characters, and turns it upside down – for the good, and the main character, not the Mysterious Stranger, is the one with the character arc (look at Mary Poppins, Shane, Nanny McPhee, and the Jack Reacher books).

A Cinderella story, well, where do you even start? Pretty Woman, Cinderella of course, Arthur, Rebecca, Suspicion, Maid to Order (I think that’s the one I mean), Slumdog Millionaire.

A deal with the devil story – The Firm, Silence of the Lambs, Damn Yankees, The Little Mermaid, Rosemary’s Baby, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Devil’s Advocate.

And you might violently disagree with some of my examples, or have a completely different designation for what kind of story some of the above are…

But that is exactly my point. You have to create your own definitions of types of stories, and find your own examples to help you learn what works in those stories. All of writing is about creating your own rules and believing in them.

So I guess that’s what I wanted to say today. Identifying genres is not enough. Identifying categories of stories is not enough. What’s the kind of story you’re writing – by your own definition?

When you start to get specific about that, that’s when your writing starts to get truly interesting.

So what kind of story ARE you writing? Would love to hear some, and brainstorm some great examples.

Have a great holiday weekend, everyone!

– Alex

———————————————————————————-

What’s YOUR structure?

Meta Structure

Fairy Tale Structure

What is High Concept?

DOCUMENTING THE JOURNEY

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

So, I’m about a week away from delivering my second novel to the copyeditor and it feels…I think it feels great, despite the fact that my whole being feels bludgeoned from the process. Is it really almost done? I can’t believe it. They say the second book is the hardest and I’m here to say that, yes, they’re goddamn right.

Coming to the end of this journey made me think about the beginning of this journey. What I went through to get the first book done. It brought memories of the days when I was writing BOULEVARD on my own, without a book deal. Before I had an agent. When the idea of becoming a published author existed solely in my head.

I went back and found my journal, the journal I started when I was in the middle of the process, and pulled the first couple entries. I thought it might be an interesting thing to share, now that I’m on the other side of it. One thing that’s interesting is my relationship with San Francisco and how the city ultimately evolved into the setting for my second novel. I can see the seeds of that decision in the journal entries themselves.

I hope this isn’t boring. I hope it’s not the literary equivalent of showing pictures of my family vacations. I’m sure many of you have gone through a lot of this stuff yourselves….

December 13, 2006

I’m starting this late in the game. I’m 225 pages into the writing of Boulevard. I’ve written and re-written the first forty pages many times.

I wrote most of it straight from the heart without outline or thought of plot. Which was liberating. I’m used to making outline after outline after treatment after draft. It felt good to just put pen to paper (fingertip to keyboard) and write. The momentum and poetry came from that process – that “spontaneous prose”.

And finally, when I’m closing in on the final fifth of the book, I’ve outlined it to the end. I’m just a month or two away from completing the first draft. And then there will be everything left to do. A huge rewrite is in order. I’ve left subplots dangling. I’ve left characters hanging on ledges. I’ve introduced motifs only to split and scatter them over a long bumpy pot-holed road. All of the detail work has yet to be done.

I’ve been at this story for about two years now. I don’t have the time to put into it, not the way I did on all the screenplays I wrote before I had a wife and kids and a mortgage and a real job I cannot quit.

Today I’m mired in a scene of recollection as Darren (whose name I will change) drives back from The Slough of Despond after viewing the killer’s artwork and meeting a prostitute who cuts herself. The Slough scene reads pretty well now, after spending numerous evenings reworking it. But a simple scene where Darren considers the value of his partnership with ex-partner Rich is taking me all of two nights to formulate. And I won’t finish it tonight.

I’m having trouble writing tonight. Which is pathetic because I’m in my favorite writing spot in the world – San Francisco! Actually the best spot is The Novel Café in Santa Monica. But nothing beats San Francisco for ambiance, energy and inspiration. I got here yesterday, working for the day job. When I’m not out selling lights, I’m spending my time in the book stores, cafes, restaurants. I discovered the Beat Generation Museum here and I’m considering taking another trip up here in a couple weeks to see Carolyn Cassady speak. I purchased “Windblown World”, Jack Kerouac’s journals from when he wrote “Town and the City” and “On the Road”. It is this journal, as well as the journals of John Steinbeck (written as he wrote “The Grapes of Wrath” and “East of Eden”) that has inspired me to finally keep a journal. I must write a little something every time I sit to work on my novel.

It’s been a struggle tonight. I don’t feel like a very good writer at the moment. The story is beginning to feel formulaic. I’m not trying to write a stock crime novel. I don’t know what genre this will fall into. I expect a lot of trouble when I try to publish it, because no one will know how to market it.

Sometimes I wonder if I have anything to say in the piece. Or have I already said everything in the first hundred pages. I feel like I’m just connecting the dots from here to the end. The unique spark of creativity is eluding me.

It’s such a process. I torture myself with it. I chew six pieces of gum at once. I tap my foot incessantly. I drink cappuccino and espresso and hot tea (caffeinated). I spend my days nibbling at sunflower seeds like a rodent. I’m anxious at writing, I’m anxious in stasis.

This is maddening.

December 14, 2006

I’m surprised how little writing I managed to do while in San Francisco. I was only in for two days and I wallowed in the sights sounds smells tastes of the City. I love San Francisco more than any other place I’ve been. I remember one set of days long ago when I was nineteen I sat in a café in the City reading Dante’s Inferno from beginning to end. It’s such a literary city.

I spent my two days walking in the mist and fog and rain in North Beach and eating and drinking and journeying to the Haight District and eating and drinking and bookstore hopping where I found old Doc Savage paperbacks the likes of which I read when I was thirteen and in camp in the Ojai mountains. And I’ve been looking for them ever since, in used bookstores, and of course I should find them in San Francisco. And I picked up Kerouac’s journals. And the DVD “What Happened To Kerouac?”, the documentary that introduced me to the Beat Generation. And a CD of Kerouac reading “On the Road”. I spent time at City Lights Bookstore where I again saw Lawrence Ferlinghetti pass beside me. Last visit I asked him to sign one of his books for me, which he did and I will treasure.

December 20, 2006

Thought I’d try a little warm-up writing on the journal before burying myself in doubt and struggle. I’m at the Novel Café, early enough in the evening to get a little decent writing done. I worked in the field with our L.A. rep today and ended early enough to land at the Novel by 4:30 pm. I bought my two hours of parking and I begin the nervous clock-watching from now until 8:00 pm when I will put my last quarters into the meter.

I sat down and read ten pages of Kerouac’s journal to get me into the mood, to slow me down a bit, to settle me and prepare me for a night of writing. I spent a few minutes with Ralph, who told me that his screenplay, “Stronger than Steel”, will be represented by CAA. I haven’t seen the other cast of characters yet – Paul, who was a reader for me when I worked for Wolfgang Petersen; Diana, Paul’s mother, a union reader who, along with Paul, spends her days and nights at the Novel reading scripts and writing coverage; Joe, long-time writer-buddy who is finishing his heist script, who lives on a boat in the Marina; Rob, a successful writer/director who has two films coming out simultaneously in January. There are other regulars, like the “log guy”, a homeless wanderer who carries a lacquered, well-loved log wherever he goes. The “veggie guy” who carries a sign on Venice Beach denouncing MacDonald’s and the full-scale slaughter of animals. All the little gems that make the Novel such a wonderful place to write. Such a creative pond of collective karma.

Spent some time this weekend learning about Tourette’s Syndrome, in an effort to understand more of what my son is going through. He has been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, Tourette’s and OCD. A lot on his plate. The Tourette’s and OCD have really taken over. As I learn more about it I realize that I have or had Tourette’s myself, that all my strange, hyperactive tic behavior from my grade school days were the result of Tourette’s. I still have a lot of tic behavior – biting my knuckle, clearing my throat constantly, always touching my face, obsessively eating sunflower seeds, etc.

Okay, I’m warmed up a bit, but not writing to my potential. Still, I have so little time to write that I must get started.

I struggled through a few hundred words this evening. I tightened and finessed the scene at the Slough of Despond. And I deleted the three pages of transition scene after the Slough, with Darren driving home. I’ve been trying to break through a wall for two weeks now. This was most of the material I wrote in San Francisco, which read as dull, uninspired narrative. I pushed through a bit on it, managed a few paragraphs to move the story forward. But nowhere near the output I expect from myself. My writing has been clunky lately, complicated further by the epileptic spasms of my computer as it coughs and putters in a complicated electronic death throe. It’s been having meltdowns since yesterday when I downloaded updates to my software, and when I tried to set up my new wireless printer. I re-booted the system tonight and when it re-upped it had cryptically reformatted my margins and font style so that the 223 pages I was so proud to have produced was reduced to 193. I remember my excitement at having crossed the 200 page mark a few weeks back, and now I’m back under 200. This is nuts. I’m afraid of losing my work. I need to get my laptop serviced before all is lost.

God, I’m tired. I’m writing poorly. I can’t think, can’t formulate words. I’m writing in molasses. I can’t focus. Maybe it’s physical, maybe I’m sick. Lots of people have been getting sick around me, so maybe I’m coming down with something. My motor skills are off – I keep miss-typing; typing dyslexia, which is not me. Usually typing is my forte. I love typing and I rarely fumble. But tonight I’m all over the place. It’s a real struggle getting the words out. Still, I managed to improve the beginning of the transition scene between the Slough and Darren returning home. I’m going to have to pack up and leave the Novel soon. It’s getting late and I have to be up at 5:00 am tomorrow to work the day job.

I had a great conversation with Joe tonight about writer’s block. He told me what I already know – if you can’t write, type. Just keep it going. You’ll work through the block. Good old Joe. He’s a real ally. Uber comrade. We discussed Frank Darabont, Paddy Chayefsky, Scorcese and Kerouac. He gave me an interesting new perspective about the lionization of great writers. He said he left that behind a while ago. He does not hold any writer in awe. He feels it gets in the way of developing his own sense of import as a writer – by putting some writers above him he is in effect lowering himself below them. It allows him to focus on his writing without the constant comparison of him to other writers. I argued that the great writers are my best mentors, my guides, the muses who help me monitor myself so that I can learn how to do the very best work I’m capable of. I wouldn’t give up my Steinbeck, Kerouac, Hemmingway, Dickens, Updike, Augusten Burroughs, Fitzgerald, Joyce, Katherine Ann Porter, Flannery O’connor, James Baldwin, etc. They ground me. They center me.

But God am I scattered tonight. I don’t know what’s going on in my mind. I must be getting sick. I can’t keep a thought. Time to pack it up and get my few hours of sleep before the long workday tomorrow.

* * *

….and on and on the journal goes. I think it ended up being around a hundred pages, covering the next year or so, with stops and starts along the way. It continues through the search for an agent and the sale of the book. I love reading the journals of authors and filmmakers—it gives me insight to their process and humanizes them. It makes what they do seem attainable. Observing their struggles on the page gave me the courage to keep at it, year after year, until the day I could ultimately say, “this book is done.”

So, what about the Murderati gang? Do you keep a journal when you write? Anyone want to share an excerpt?

On my next blog I’ll be interviewing novelist Rebecca Cantrell as she looks forward to the paperback release of her fantastic, period thriller, “A Trace of Smoke.”

Hand Me That Chisel

By Brett Battles

I find myself at a similar place as I was last August or so…thinking up ideas for the next book. Unlike last time, I don’t plan on going batshit crazy and write proposals for three different, potential novels. No, this time I’ll stick to one. Or, rather, two. One for a standalone, and one for the fifth in my Jonathan Quinn series.

“But, Brett,” you may say. “You have the two standalone ideas that weren’t chosen last fall. Why not use one of those?”

Believe me, I’m tempted. One, in particular, I really like, and, who knows, I might resubmit it anyway. But the truth is, I feel another story calling me. The interesting things is that I have no idea what the story is about.

I’ve heard the analogy that writing a novel (or, maybe, an outline for a novel) is like being a sculpture standing in front of a slab of marble. You know there’s a beautiful statue inside, you just have no idea what it looks like. That’s kind of the stage I’m at right now. I’ve got this slab of marble, I just don’t know what’s inside yet.

Now to get to that interior, to that story, there are a lot of different tools I can use. I can chip away, a little at a time by taking long walks and strenuous hikes. I can let my mind wander while I’m doing nothing. I can inundate myself with other forms or creativity – books, movies, TV, magazines, music – and see if I get inspired.

These are all things I’ve done in the past, and, actually, things I’ve mostly done in the past two weeks. But there are other tools, too, specialized tools that might work for me, but not for someone else.

The past couple of days I’ve been using one of those specialized tools more heavily than I’ve done in a long time, or perhaps ever.

I’m a visual person. I was big into theater in high school, so much so I even directed the musical version of THE HOBBIT when I was a senior…bet you didn’t know there WAS a musical version of THE HOBBIT. Here’s some photographic evidence:

(That’s me kneeling in both pics…apparently that was my chosen directorial style.)

When I went off to college, my interests had moved to motion pictures, and I majored in film and television history. (Got to watch a LOT of movies during class. My all time favorite course was one our own Steven Schwartz and I – I think – took together…The Films of Alfred Hitchcock, or something like that. Awesome!)

Quite by chance, when I entered the working world I happened to stumble into the arena of graphic design for television, or what we called motion graphics. No, I wasn’t a designer, but I worked with designers everyday for what turned out to be almost twenty years. And when you work with graphic designers, you will find that visual stimulation is a daily event.

So it’s not surprising that the visual can be very stimulating to me.

Back in grade school (or was it junior high?), I got an assignment in an English class to create an essay/story by using only pictures found in magazines. If I remember correctly, we could add short headlines, but that was it. The pictures had to make the story. It was a great project, and, if you ask me, very forward thinking on my teacher’s part.

To this day, I still remember that project, and, in a way, am still utilizing the lesson learned.

Almost everyday I come across images on the Internet that stimulates me for some reason. Could be I just like the setting, or the face. Could be I like the atmosphere. I save these images to a folder on my desktop that I call Inspirational Pics. In the past I’ve looked through them on occasion. But this week, as I set out to cobble away at that chuck of rock that someone unceremoniously put down in front of me, I decided to try something new.

I created a new folder, then opened one with my Inspirational Pics. Slowly, I went through them, one-by-one. If one made me stop or otherwise called out to me, I put a copy of it in the new folder. By the time I was done, I had about two dozen images (out of the, literally, hundreds I’ve collected.) I then put these selected images in an order that made sense, and started to play them as a slideshow.

And you know what? There’s something there. I can feel it. I don’t know what it is completely yet, but I have discovered a main character, and I’m starting to see events – though hazy still – that take place in the story. I even wrote a couple pages that might be the beginning of the novel. The pictures really speak to me. I can feel them pulled me in. I can see them knocking off the unnecessary parts of the rock as I hunt for the story I know is there.

I know I’ve found my tool of choice on this particular project, and for the next week I will undoubtedly watch that slide show over and over, letting it reveal more of the story to me.

Yes, I know. I’m weird. But I like it that way. (I’d share the pictures, but don’t want to tip my hand.)

So, what tools do you use to get rid of the unnecessary bits that are hiding your story from you?

Hype

by J.D. Rhoades

Last Saturday, we turned down the lights, made popcorn, and watched the movie “Paranormal Activity.” You may have heard of it.

The movie was reportedly made on a microscopic budget of around 15 grand (yes, you read that right). It played some minor film festivals, caught the attention of several studio execs (Including Stephen Spielberg), and was eventually released nationwide, where made a ton of cash. It was billed as “one of the scariest movies ever made”. The marketing campaign even mentioned that people walked out of test screenings, which worried the filmmakers until they saw that people were leaving because the movie scared the living daylights out of them.

Certainly it’s a scary film, and cleverly made. Like THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and CLOVERFIELD, it’s supposedly filmed by the main characters on their home video camera. Katie and Micah, a cute yuppie couple (well, her anyway), have been hearing weird noises and whispery voices in the middle of the night. Micah (who is, by the way, an utter douchebag) wants to see if he can document what happens while they’re asleep (and maybe make a little x-rated home video while they’re at it; see “utter douchebag”, above).

I can tell you, there are some shivery moments. The nighttime shots, where the right half of the frame is the couple asleep in bed and the left half is their open bedroom door with the darkness of the hallway beyond, inspire real dread.

You just know that something really awful is about to appear in that door. And it does.

But the movie’s central conceit hamstrings its ability to create a really effective ending, and you’re left going “wait, that’s it, it’s over?” In the end, I found the movie disappointing.

Then I started wondering: if it hadn’t been billed as “the scariest movie ever made” (a title that, in my mind, is still and always will be held by THE EXORCIST), would I have been so down on it? Had I stumbled across it on TV or picked it up at the video store not knowing anything about it, would it be the type of movie that I go around telling everyone I know “you gotta see this, this is total genius”?

So I’ve been thinking about hype, and its effects, both good and bad.

It happens a lot with the so-called classics. How many of us have come to a book that our friends have solemnly described to us as “essential” or even “life changing”, only to walk away going “THAT’s the best book you ever read?” For example, I thought CATCHER IN THE RYE was amazing the first five times I read it, but I know people who can’t stand the book or its main character. I, on the other hand, was let down by MOBY-DICK, which I finally put down in disgust when I realized that Ishmael had been blathering through 100-plus pages and he wasn’t even on the damn boat yet.

More recently, I found myself disappointed by Neal Stephenson’s ANATHEM, which got a lot of press and a lot of hype. It even made quite a few “Ten Best” lists. I was really looking forward to it, because I loved CRYPTONOMICON and really liked QUICKSILVER. I have a high tolerance for Stephenson’s rambling, discursive style, because usually the rambling takes you to some fascinating places. But ANATHEM just took the whole rambling thing just that one step too far for me. It can best be described by review I wrote of the book for Goodreads: “Monkish scientists on an earth-like alien planet are brought out of their cloistered existence to confront a potential alien invasion, which they do by attempting to talk it to death for 900+ pages.” I wonder though, if I’d have been more tolerant had it not been so heavily promoted as “the most brilliant literary invention to date from the incomparable Neal Stephenson”.

On the other hand, there are some works whose hype goes too far in the other direction, works whose reputation is so bad that when one finally encounters them, one is slightly disappointed to discover that they’re really not all that awful. Joe Queenan described this phenomenon in his hilarious work RED LOBSTER, WHITE TRASH, AND THE BLUE LAGOON, in which he coined the term scheissenbedauern (“shit regret”) to describe “the disappointment one feels when exposed to something that is not nearly as bad as one hoped it would be.” My example of this would be that great bugbear of the literati, THE DAVINCI CODE. Yes, it was dreadfully written, but it was fun, possibly because I had no expectations by the time I finally read it. In movies, my example would be STARSHIP TROOPERS, which I think I enjoyed because after months of my fellow Heinlein fans screaming about how it was nothing like the book, and in fact was a betrayal of all the book stood for, I was ready to take the movie on its own terms.

Now, as writers, let’ s be honest. We’d probably all like to see our books get some real high octane hype. We’d love a national TV and radio blitz accompanied by full page ads in all the papers and magazines, telling everyone that our next book is going to change the face of literature as we know it, cure cancer, and bring about peace in the Middle East because everyone will be too busy reading it to fight.

But then I think about someone I used to know, who one day got the book contract of her dreams. High six figure advance, serious publisher support, major buzz. And when the book came out–it sold respectably. For a debut, in fact, it sold pretty damn well. But “respectably” and “pretty damn well” weren’t going to cut it after all the money they’d thrown at it. Her career seems to have recovered, but I hear it was a damned close run thing for a while there.

So, ‘Rati, if you dare: do you think that hype helps or hurts a book or movie? What works have you seen that you think might have been spoiled by all the hype? Which ones gave you a melancholy touch of scheissenbedauern?

Discuss.

Ogling the hot new things in Las Vegas

by Tess Gerritsen

There were two conventions in town. Over at the Sands Hotel, the Adult Entertainment Expo was in full swing.

I, however, was at the other convention.

The Consumer Electronics Show, at the Las Vegas Convention Center, was THE place to check out the mind-boggling new gadgets about to come on the market in the next few months. From cars to cameras to TVs to gaming systems, this is the show where you’ll catch a glimpse of our electronic future.

Months ago, the Interead company (which makes the Cooler E-book reader) invited me to be a guest author at their CES booth. Although I knew that the show attendees would be overwhelmingly male, and probably not many would be familiar with my books, I jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t want to check out the cool new gizmos on the horizon?

As predicted, the show was indeed overwhelmingly male. (It’s the first big event I’ve ever attended where there was no wait at the women’s restroom!) But, this being Vegas, buxom gals weren’t hard to find on the showroom floor.

“Booth bunnies” were everywhere. I sent my husband around the hall to take photos of them, and I have never seen him so eagerly take on an assignment. (For a glimpse of some more booth bunnies, hop on over to my own website for other photos.)

But dazzling electronics and chesty girls aside, CES was also where you could catch a glimpse of gizmos that will be part of the publishing future. At last year’s CES, or so I’m told, you could scarcely find an E-book reader on display. This year, there were at least a dozen booths, clustered in their very own section of the exhibit hall. Oddly enough, the world’s bestselling e-reader, Amazon’s Kindle, didn’t have a booth at CES. But check out the wide variety of other e-readers that will soon be available:

Here’s the Cooler E-reader, the product sold by Interead, my host at CES. It’s the lightest one on the market, easy to slip into a pocket or purse.

And where E-readers go, accessories are sure to follow. There were several booths devoted to just that specialty item:

Judging by all the E-reader products — and the interest in those products — a tipping point has clearly been reached. E-readers are the future, and whether you think it’s a good thing or a bad thing, we writers can’t afford to ignore the tidal wave that’s rushing toward us.

Nor can publishers. Because along with the E-reader revolution comes a publishing revolution. As a writer, you can now publish with any number of e-book sites, and sell your work directly to readers — without any publisher involved. It means there will be an overwhelming amount of content for consumers to choose from, much of it low-quality. E-book land is going to be a busy, anarchic universe with a dizzying array of great books sold along with bad books, and lord knows how it’s all going to shake out.

And we will look back on this era as the last age of the professional writer.