Break Out!

I can finally announce it.  Ink has dried.  Hands have been shaken.  Checks have been cut.  The deal is done.  I’ve signed a contract with New York publisher, Dorchester Publishing.  They will be publishing my novel, Accidents Waiting To Happen, next March in paperback under their Leisure imprint.

Wow.  I’ve finally cracked the big leagues.  It only took me just under eight years.  And it only seems like an eternity.  J

And I almost blew it.  Like all adventures in my life, nothing happens without a little drama.  In publishing, good news arrives by phone.  Bad news arrives by self-addressed envelope.  The editor called–but I was in the shower.  I didn’t hear the call, and my answering machine didn’t feel like recording it either.  When I got home that evening, the message light was flashing.  I hit play and got:

“Hi, Simon, it’s Don.  I’m calling about the b–”

He was calling.  That meant good news, right?  But he’d only had the manuscript a few days.  He might be calling because he spilt coffee over it and needed another copy.  Or maybe it was so monumentally bad, he wanted to break protocol to call me personally to tell me how much it sucked and how he wished he could have those hours back that he’d burned up reading it.  I wanted to call, but it was nine o’clock on the east coast.  I don’t think he would have appreciated me calling information to get his home number.  But if he had good news, I figured I should return his call, otherwise, what would he think?  Hey, that Simon Wood guy didn’t return my call.  He sounds like a bit of a dilettante.  We don’t need his kind here at Dorchester Publishing.  Worse still, his message could have come with a time limit. 

“Hi, Simon, it’s Don.  I’m calling about the book.  I love it, I want it, but you have to return this call in the next hour or the deal is off.”

How bad would that be?

At this point, I might have begun obsessing, but don’t quote me.  I think Julie may have punched me too.  I think she got a little bored with my theories–or craziness, as she liked to call it.  I went to bed and decided to lay awake thinking about what he would say when I called him back.  Who needs sleep when faced with the important phone call of their writing career?

So I called early the next morning and got the good news that Dorchester did want the book and none of my imagined scenarios applied. 

Don hit me with, “So what do you think?”

I was so out of emotion at this point that all I could muster was “sounds good.” Yeah, I know, but it was the best I could come up with.

Now I understand why authors have agents.  We shouldn’t be allowed outside without a handler.

After all that, Dorchester still wanted to give me a contract.

It goes without saying that this is a huge writing career boost for me that will propel me out of the small press world.  Leisure books have great distribution.  All the major chains carry their titles prominently.  It will no longer be an issue for my readers to obtain my books, and it will be easy for new readers to discover me.  This is what I’ve always wanted.  Journey’s end.

This doesn’t mean I can slack off.  No way.  All that has changed is that my work will be more available and more affordable.  Writing a damn good story and getting the word out is just as tough. 

While having a book coming out in mass paperback is a great opportunity, it’s also a burden.  My book and I will be in the spotlight.  No longer will I have the excuse that my book just isn’t seen.  My publishing reputation is mine to lose.  It’s a worry, but it’s also a challenge and it’s a challenge that I relish.  I can’t wait for this book to get out there and see how far it will go.

Does this mean I’ll forget those people I’ve worked with in the small press?  No.  I owe my reputation to the small press.  I’m hoping that the wider net Accidents Waiting To Happen will cast will draw new readers to my small press titles.  The reason for this is twofold.  First, I want to repay the faith those small press publishers had in my work.  Second, I’m not finished with the small press.  I have plenty of other projects that will appeal more to small press than NY publishing, because of their subject matter, word length, genre, etc.  For me, this will be the best of both worlds.  I want to have venues where I can tell all my stories.

I’m not sure what will happen from now on.  Hopefully, it will lead to foreign rights sales or something nice like that.  I’ve always wanted to see my work and not understand a bloody word of it.  I just hope that this is the start of a beautiful relationship. 

See you on the bookshelves,

Simon Wood

A Traitor in Our Midst

NAOMI HIRAHARA

I’m a traitor, that’s what some of the hardcores are going to say. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

What am I talking about? Well, brace yourself–the book I’m currently writing is not a mystery.

I didn’t train to be a mystery writer. So I was unaware of the requirements of the genre until, well, I received my first mystery book contract in 2003.

Rule #1:

If you write a mystery series, you need to produce at least a book a year.

Imagine my naivete. Before getting published, I had no idea of the required annual output. I read mystery series, but often out of order, and never bothered to check the publication date.

Rule #2:

You write five or six mysteries in a series, and then you can write a standalone–and that should also be a mystery, preferably a thriller.

My response: I’ve never been that good with rules.

I’ve only done three in my Mas Arai mystery series–and they all have been trade paperback originals. I guess my goal should be to get a book in the series in hardback before I go out and strike it out in another genre.

But the publishing industry is more cutthroat than ever, and there’s less time to make your mark. Some of my readers are not necessarily mystery fans–a number are more likely to pick up Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan or Cynthia Kadohata’s Kira-Kira before Janet Evanovich or James Patterson. I’ve been itching to write from a woman’s point of view and not necessarily in the context of a standard mystery. So here I go.

I should be scared, but I’m exhilarated. Cut off all the safety lines and jump.

Getting that first contract does change you, and many things have been lost along the way. Just as spirituality needs to be cultivated on a regular basis, so does the art of writing. The risk of it. Entering new territory and not knowing really how you and your work are going to be transformed.

I do plan to return to the mystery series, fully refreshed. In addition to this nonmystery novel, I have an idea for a mystery standalone, so it may be two books before I return to my crusty protagonist Mas.

I wish that I could tell you the next episode in this writing story. Show you some teasers–perhaps of a small band of Mas Arai fans in revolt or me rotting away in the corner of my office, spider webs stretching from my head to the ceiling.

But there are no signs of the future.

I just jump.

WEDNESDAY’S WORD: abunai (SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI, page 22)

Definition: dangerous, risky, perilous. Abunai, Will Robinson, abunai. Enough said.

QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

I was going to sub-title this week’s Quibbles & Bits: "Do Blogs Sell Books?" But I think I’ll write that one next week and, instead, talk about a recent newspaper survey.

My local Canadian newspaper, The Times Columnist [based in Victoria, B.C.], has never reviewed my books. That’s probably because my books aren’t International bestsellers, nor lit’ry enough, nor are they written by someone named Dan Brown (note to self: use the pseudonym "Dani Brown" for future books).

A few weeks ago the paper had an article called "Sexes divided on literary loves." The article included a survey of 3000 Canadians. That’s a lot of Canadians, folks—trust me. [Unless, of course, you’re counting calls/votes for Canadian Idol; then it goes up to around 3 million.]

Asked by Indigo Books to name their favorite books, male readers strongly preferred action-packed titles.

And this is news because…?

The majority of males chose J.R.R. Tolkein, Dan Brown [sigh] and Chuck Palahniuk. [Note to self: Change name to non-gender-specific Denny Dietz; change title of half-written "Toe of Frog" to THE DA VINCI TOAD.]

Sonya Gaulin, a spokeswoman for Indigo, said, "The books that women chose are more sentimental, whereas the ones men chose tend to be a bit more in the fantasy, adventure and mystery-thriller genre."

Well, duh!

The top seven books chosen by men in order of preference were: Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkein, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, How To Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie (for some reason, that one made me laugh for approx five minutes straight), and Angels and Demons by Dan Brown [sigh].

Women chose Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin, He’s Not That Into you by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo [Is that a new erotica?], Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden, Confessions of a Shopaholic [great title!] by Sophie Kinsella, The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and Outlander by Diana Gabaldon.

I’ve actually read those last two, and, a long time ago, P and P [I didn’t like it, so sue me].

According to the survey, only 8 titles overlapped as favorites of men and women alike: Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus by John Gray, The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown [sigh], Tuesdays With Morey by Mitch Albon, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albon, A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry, and I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb.

Notice the lack of crime fiction. And of the 8 titles listed, I’ve read TDC [I didn’t like it, so sue me] and Mockingbird.

How many have you read? And, for that matter, what books would YOU have chosen? Top three will do; 8 is a bit much.

Last Sunday’s Times Columnist had an interview with Lee Child, cribbed from an Associated Press article. When talking about how he named his protagonist Jack Reacher, Lee said, "Every time I go to the supermarket — without exception, every time — because I’m tall and look approachable, a little old lady comes up to me and says, ‘You’re a nice tall gentleman. Will you reach and get me that can?’ So my wife said, ‘If this novelist thing doesn’t work out, you can get a job as a reacher in a supermarket.’ And I said, ‘Good name!’ So that’s where it came from."

So now I’m curious, Lee. Where did the name "Jack" come from?

In conclusion…

Notes to self:
1 – Change Denise Dietz to the non-gender-specific Denny Dietz, or even
better, Dani Brown or Denny Brown.

2 – Change titles of "diet club" mysteries THROW DARTS AT A CHEESECAKE, BEAT UP A COOKIE, and CHAIN A LAMB CHOP TO THE BED to:

THE MICHELANGELO MANIFESTO [after all, the Weight Winners diet club meetings take place in a church!]
IN SEARCH OF ALAN ALDA
INTENSITY [one-word titles seem to do well]

3 – I’m 5’2" and no one would ever ask me to reach for anything, but I am a free-lance editor, so name next protagonist "Freelance [Lance] Editor."

Over and Out,
Deni/Dani/Denny
author of the new Lance Editor mystery series, co-starring a vicious killer cat named Grateful Dead

Lampreys, Megamouths and Cane Toads: Overmarketing

by Pari Noskin Taichert

I’ve been thinking about sea lampreys this week. You see, I’ve been searching for animal images to embody my ideas about an often ignored subject: Overmarketing. Though books on promotion exhort us to use every trick we can, they rarely caution about overusing them. Yet, I’d bet all of us have met the author who overmarkets to the point of turning sweet to sour.

It comes down to this: there’s a difference between telling people about your book and pummeling them with it.

At its best, overmarketing comes off as annoying and pathetically desperate. At its worst, it offends. It repels and turns potential allies into gossipy ennemies.

Here are the three types of overmarketers I can define easily.

Sea Lamprey
This parasite has a big mouth, too many teeth and sucks the joy of a purchase right out of you.

Picture yourself going into a bookstore. An author walks up to you and starts talking about his books. You nod politely, perhaps ask a question, smile and start to walk way. The author accompanies you, still working to engage in conversation, interpreting each of your sighs as a confirmation of interest. You try to escape behind a bookcase. He finds you. Finally, you buy his damn book just to get rid of him. Sure, he made the sale, but I bet that $15 won’t cover the compounded negative stories customers will tell about him to other people.

Megamouth Shark
Though harmless enough, the megamouth inspires even the kindest person to hide — ducking into convenient bathrooms or jumping off cliffs — until this animal has cleared the waters.

This author has a mouth the size of Cuba. It’s the sheer volume of information gushing from her maw that initially tranfixes, and then horrifies, the poor person in its path. She can — and will — recite every blurb and review her books have ever gotten . . . verbatim. She turns every conversation, no matter how far the stretch, right back to her work and accomplishments. When attacked by this animal, you’re tempted to check if she has functioning ears; there appears to be no ability to listen.

Australian Cane Toad
Cane toads tend to be more experienced authors who’ve forgotten their beginnings, suffer from too much insecurity, or who think "humility" refers to the amount of moisture in the air.

Cane-toad authors sit on panels or in discussions and take them over in a poisonous way. This can be done by never answering the question asked (responding only about their books) or killing the competition through rudeness including clever insults, blathering and not listening. Within minutes of encountering a cane toad, the literary environment is out of balance and remains toxically so.

How do you avoid becoming one of these ugly animals?
It’s about balance, baby. Well, that, and common courtesy.

Know your audience.
Yeah, this sounds simple. Believe me, it isn’t. You have to work at it. Strive to be aware of the people with whom you hope to communicate. Know both their spoken and unspoken rules of etiquette no matter what the medium — be it face-to-face, the phone, in print or online. If you don’t take the time to understand your audience, you’ll always blunder.

Listen.
Talk WITH, rather than AT, people. An upside to doing this is that you’ll get unexpected ideas for your future marketing efforts. Also, you’ll learn to avoid the mistakes that irritate your main allies. Guess how I started thinking about overmarketing in the first place? It was because of the comments I heard from readers — and booksellers — about this or that author’s inappropriate behavior.

Watch (a.k.a. study).
A year before THE CLOVIS INCIDENT came out, I started going to mystery conventions and booksignings. Like a cultural anthropologist, I studied what worked and what didn’t. I noticed behaviors that engaged potential readers — and those that revolted them. In that first year, I encountered all of the human equivalents to the animals mentioned above.

Respect.
Today, audiences are far more marketing savvy than they used to be. Never forget that people can detect the sulphorous scent of condescension and the slimy textures of manipulation. Please, refuse to succumb to the temptation of arrogance.

In nature, lampreys, megamouths and cane toads can’t help what they are.

In our business, authors can.

cheers,
Pari (who’s feeling a bit like a brine shrimp today)

Thoughts on book reviewing

Jeffrey Cohen

I once asked a very famous person how to deal with bad reviews. The very famous person said, “Generally I say something like, ‘Oh, that? I barely read it.’ Or ‘Well, that’s merely one person’s opinion.’ Or ‘Hey, can’t win ’em all.’ Then I lock myself in the bathroom and sob loudly into a throw pillow I take in there with me for that purpose.” This is an accomplished professional whose career has been the absolute template for success in a field.

The relationship between authors and reviewers is a very complex one. Having done both, I can tell you that neither is easy, neither pays especially well except at the very top of the profession, and both are done for the sheer love of the form in almost every case. I’ve written reviews that I wish I could take back (all negative ones, even when the film/book/play/record in question was truly awful–I was snarky and shouldn’t have been), some that I would hold up for all the world to see and some that, well, I had a deadline and it was a slow week.

I’m proud of every novel I’ve written, which admittedly isn’t that many just yet (I’ve written five; three have been published, one is on its way and the other is still looking for a home), and have been happy to send each one out to book reviewers. Then I hold my breath, take some Maalox and make sure there’s a throw pillow within grabbing distance.

Book reviews are to authors what Snausages are to my dog: a hoped-for reward for a job well done. Granted, his job is somewhat easier than mine–it involves taking care of a bodily function in the right place–but the concept is similar. He does what he’s supposed to do, and we give him encouragement and approval.

That’s when the reviews are good. When they’re not, it’s more like we’ve done something we shouldn’t have in the house.

I know many book reviewers who are extremely scrupulous about their work, and making sure there’s no hint of favoritism (which is an interesting concept, since reviewing is by definition subjective, and you’re going to have favorites), who won’t let an author buy them a beer at a convention, citing conflict of interest. Most of the reviewers I’ve met are very serious about what they do, understand it has an impact on the work, and are dedicated to the genre and to books in general. They are, in my limited experience, remarkably conscientious about their work.

I don’t like to brag (no, wait a minute–I LOVE to brag), but my books have been almost uniformly well reviewed. I’ve been lucky, and since my Aaron Tucker novels have been published by a very small press, remarkably so, to have been reviewed in so many venues. There have been extremely generous comments in newspapers and magazines, and on a great many web sites. And I have been flattered by each and every one.

But the one I remember most clearly is the single outright pasting I took on a web site whose reviewers love virtually every book they can find (and whose name you may just as well not expect to see mentioned here). This review of my most recently published book AS DOG IS MY WITNESS was an eyelash short of violent, a pan of epic proportions that stopped just before the reviewer was to suggest I apply for a job at Home Depot and give up this writing thing before I did some real damage.

I could quote you whole sections of that review from memory. I read and read it, even as I told myself that it was wrong, that there were factual errors, that the reviewer got a major character’s name wrong, that all the other reviews had been very positive.

I took every word to heart. Finally, the world had caught up to the fraud that I am. Someone had discovered my secret–that I don’t know what I’m doing–and said it out loud. I was a hack, a pretender, a lightweight idiot who didn’t know his noun from his verb (actually, the “lightweight” didn’t seem so bad–I could lose a few pounds). It was all true, and I felt I should quit this business and move on to my true calling, whatever that was. Maybe this Home Depot idea wasn’t so bad. I hear they have dental.

After fifteen minutes or so, my blood pressure returned to normal. I forwarded the review to my publisher with the snide suggestion that he might like to pull a quote for our next praise sheet, suppressed the urge to call my mother so she could tell me how brilliant I was, and moved on to my next actual paying gig. Okay, so maybe I read a few of the positive reviews in the interim, just to remind myself that I had fooled some of the people some of the time. And that was the day I asked the very famous person about bad reviews.

Reviews should be a tool used by readers if they trust the reviewer’s judgment and not just because the reviewer has a tower to shout from. These days, everybody and his pet dog can post a review on the Internet, so readers need to be selective, reading carefully considered reviews from people like Sarah Weinman (who has never reviewed one of my books, so I can say so) and Oline Cogdill (who has). Read a few reviews of books you’ve read, and see if you agree with the reviewer. I tend to pay attention to reviews by Janet Maslin of the New York Times because I agreed with her even back when she was writing about movies. Those critics with whom I tend to disagree obviously won’t have as much influence on my consideration of a book, a movie or a whatever.

But I’ll never make a decision not to read or see something based on what a critic says. I might be persuaded to give something a try if I read that it’s something special, but if I’m interested in something I’ll make my own decision no matter what the critics said. I honestly don’t think Ishtar was all that bad (it’s no classic, but it’s also not the biblical disaster you’d think from the reviews), and I’m not that crazy about The English Patient despite the raves and the awards. That’s my taste; it might not be yours. Doesn’t make either one of us right.

The idea is to make up your own mind, and good reviewers will be the first to tell you that’s what you should do. Their job is to provide information and some perspective. My daughter went to see the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie Friday night, as soon as it was released, despite disappointing reviews. She didn’t love it as much as the first in the series, but she still wants to see it again. Her brother told her the critics didn’t care for the movie, and my daughter shrugged.

“What do they know?” she asked. “They’re part of the audience, just like me.”

(If you want to know why The English Patient doesn’t make sense, feel free to email me at jeff at aarontucker dot com.)

ON THE BUBBLE WITH IAN RANKIN

One does not ‘introduce’ Ian Rankin.  His name says it all.  I mean, really, what could I possibly add to that?  Nineteen Inspector Rebus novels, three Jack Harvey novels and scores of short stories – not to mention one of best damn television series around?  It’s been said a zillion times – and by far better scribes than moi.

Well, I could tell you that he’s wonderfully witty, charming and erudite – but you know that.  I could also mention that he’s broodingly handsome and that his dangerously mysterious eyes just drive me nuts (yes, even old broads like me can still feel the heat in them)-but you know all that too. 

So let’s just get on with the interview before I melt away….

EE:  Ian – at what point in your career did you find it necessary to give up lawn bowling and get serious about writing fiction?

IR:  I’m not yet old enough to take up lawn-bowling… I started writing at a young age – I was in my teens when I started to get poems published.  I was twenty-five when I wrote my first Rebus book.  But it took a while for me to taste success.  I went full-time in 1990, by dint of moving to the middle of nowhere in France (I couldn’t speak French and had no chance of finding a job)  But it was 1997 or 98, with over a dozen books under my belt, when I started to make it onto the bestseller lists.

I just love overnight success stories!

EE:  We’ve all got a bad habit or two, what are yours?

IR:  I have plenty of bad habits.  I am an irascible drunk.  I bite my fingernails.  I listen to progressive rock.  My diet is a disaster – I am a chocolate junkie.

Ohhh…my kinda guy…wish we lived closer.

EE:  But seriously, Ian – tell us, if you will – what you feel your biggest challenge is as a writer.

IR:  My biggest challenge as a writer…trying to make each new book better than the one before.

I guess that was a dumb question on my part.  Every book you’ve written is superb.  And then some.

EE:  Word on the street is that you and J.K. Rowling have discovered your etheral muses are in love and you’re both getting mixed signals late at night as you each work on your latest books.  Further rumor is that you’ve engaged a medium to break up the romance.

IR:  I haven’t noticed myself channeling Harry Potter yet, though it’s true that JK has said she may try her hand as detective fiction one of these days.  I live two doors down from Alexander McCall Smith, and I think that could make for some wierd from of cross-fertilization…   Mama Ramotswe meets John Rebus, no hold barred.

Uh, Ian?  Maybe we should talk about this?  Just think of the ticket sales!  The movie rights!  I’ll call you, okay?

EE:  Everyone has a Walter Mitty dream – what’s yours?

IR:  A rock ‘n roll star, no question.

I can picture that.  You’re dressed in black…your guitar is silver…your hair is in your eyes…your…oh, yeah…I see it now…

EE:  Pardon me while I catch my breath here.  Uh, let’s see…okay, how about – what best selling book do you wish you’d written?

IR:  There are many books I wish I’d written, everything from Catch-22 to The Black Dahlia, The Big Sleep to Name of the Rose to A Clockwork Orange…

Icon’s all – and so is Rebus.  See?  I can be serious when it’s appropriate.

EE:  Where is your favorite retreat?  And what do you do there?

IR:   I suppose my office is my retreat.  I read and listen to music there.  And when I head out, I stop off at the Oxford Bar (same pub Rebus uses) to quench that eternal thirst.  Small pleasures.

Meet you in the back booth?  Same time as before?

EE:  Which writers would be on your ideal convention panel?

IR:  I’ve been on some great convention panels.  It’s always fun when Val McDermid or Mark Billingham is around.  Peter Robinson, Denise Mina, Larry Block…I like people who are down to earth with a sense of humor.

A panel like that would be standing room only!  Save me a seat in the front row, okay?

EE:  Is it true ‘The Belles of St. Trinians’ with Alastair Sim is your favorite movie?  Or, is it really ‘Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla’?

IR:  My favorite movies include:  Goodfellas, The Godfather,The Big Chill, Clerks, Gregory’s Girl…  I do like those St. Trinian’s flims though…all those skirts and stockings…are those films still legal?

Goodfellas? The Godfather?  Oh, yes – you are truly a man after my own heart!  By the way-sorry to say – the St. Trinian films have been banned now, but – uh, I know a guy who can get them for you.

EE:  Let’s talk about book tours.  Who would you just love to tour with?

IR:  I do like doing book tours with other authors.  How wild could it be touring with James Elroy?  James Lee Burke also sounds like a fun person to do some talks and signings with.  The problem, of course, is that his signing line would be longer than mine (in the USA, certainly, and probably elsewhere).  So the ideal person to tour with would have to be a beginner with no fan-base.  That way I’d get to be smug every time.

Uh, darrling Ian?  I’m free after September 1st…

EE:  Steve Booth is being accused of exaggerating the dangers of walking his beloved Peak District to keep Starbucks and tourists away – and now – we hear that you are following this ruse with your new gorgerous book – ‘REBUS’s SCOTLAND’.  Isn’t it true this book is meant to discourage those hoping to see a dark, damp and dreary Edinburgh?

IR:  The entire Rebus series has been a thwarted attempt to stop people discovering the wonderousness of Edinburgh.

What??  You mean all this time we’ve been falling in love with Rebus you really just meant to keep us away??  Ohh..I feel so violated!

EE:  I don’t know if I can go on now.  But…okay…tell us then which writer would you like to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at the next Bouchercon?  Or, ThrillerFest?

IR:  A cozy corner in the bar… sounds like it would have to be a writer of the opposite sex.  I only ever get to see Laura Lippman at conventions, and then usually only for a quick gossip.  So maybe Laura.  But then the same is true of S.J. Rozan, Linda Fairstein, Kathy Reichs… So that’s just me and four women then.

Terrific choices.  But, uh…I was hoping that…  Well, nevermind.

EE:  Rumor seem to follow your every step – and the latest is that you are, in truth, John Rebus and not Ian Rankin.  Clear this up for us, okay?

IR:  I’m so unlike John Rebus it’s not true.  On the other hand, there’s a guy who drinks in my local bar and his name is Joe Rebus and he’s much the same age, build, etc, as John Rebus, so that is pretty wierd (I only met Joe after I’d written nine or ten Rebus books).  John Rebus would not like me if he met me.  Maybe he’s my Mr. Hyde…  Or (scarier thought) he may even be my Dr. Jekyll!

Hell, I’ll take all of you.

EE:  Whispers are rampant that you’ve stopped taking calls from Paris Hilton.  Is it because she claims you’ve fashioned Siobhan after her and she wants a bigger role in the next Rebus?

IR:  Paris wants everything bigger and more exciting.  I just can’t satisfy her any longer.  Siobhan isn’t based on anyone.  She’s also not as blonde as she appears in the latest TV versions.

Thanks for debunking that horrible rumor!  Whew.  It just killed me to ask you, but someone had to put a stop to her. 

EE:  And finally, Ian – oh, how hard this is to ask (even more than the Paris saga!) – but…but…is it really true that Rebus’s chair has been stolen and the thief is threatening to list it on eBay unless you write him into the next book as the hero who saves Rebus’s life?

IR:  If Rebus’s chair were stolen, the lazy sod would lie on the floor rather than go buy a new one.  Me, too, come to that.  But I do write real people into my books all the time.  Problem is, they have to pay charities or the privilege – stealing my mate’s chair isn’t going to make me write anyone into my book…  And if they don’t like that, well, they can sit on it…and rotate.

That would – as they say – be a Kodak moment!

Many, many thanks to you Ian – for taking the time to be with us today – and for being such a great sport and a true gent.  And Rebus fans!  Mark your book buying calendar for Ian’s newest Rebus -THE NAMING OF THE DEAD out this October.

On Magpies and Fireflies – Impressions from ThrillerFest

Much has been said about ThrillerFest this week, so I won’t
recap the fun stuff here. But there is something that I took away from my first
major conference. There are a lot of very impressive writers out there. And
they all congregated in Phoenix this past weekend.

May I offer you a slice of humble pie?

Seriously, there is nothing more exciting that spending time
with the heavy hitters of your genre. Hence the Magpie/Firefly reference. I’m borrowing the phrasing from the wonderful John Connolly, who once described writers as like magpies,
easily distracted by shiny objects. And Fireflies flit and flut, dancing their
way around almost carelessly. That’s how I felt all weekend. So much to see, so
much to do, so many people to meet. I was all over the place because there
wasn’t enough time to do and see it all and meet everyone I wanted to meet.

Getting ready for and attending ThrillerFest was like
getting backstage passes to your most favorite band. Say you’re a fan of AC/DC.
You’d do anything to go to the concert, much less sit down with the band
members for four days, partying, learning new chords, watching them work their
magic. Yeah, it was like that.

Actually, the entire event felt like a rock concert to me.
You see that your band is coming, you wait for the tickets going on sale, you
buy said tickets and the anticipatory rush is on. As the day draws closer, you
play the CD’s over and over, gearing up.

You arrive at the concert and there’s this pulsing mass
of humanity, hundreds if not thousands of people JUST LIKE YOU, people who have
been sitting at home, playing the CD’s and wanting this for the past few
weeks.

The room lights go down, the air is thick with adrenaline.
The stage lights flicker, then go dark and the band takes the stage to the
whoops and sheer madness of the crowd. The band plays their set, the level of
intensity building to a climax that leaves you breathless.

Take away the loud, frantic noise, tight t-shirts and jeans,
drunkenness (no, put that back in) and keep that level of intensity and
enthusiasm. That’s what my ThrillerFest experience felt like.

If anyone ever again asks if going to a conference is worth
the time, money and effort, I will always say yes.

Not only did I get to meet many of the writers I consider my
literary favorites (Lee Child, Tess Gerritsen, Jim Born, Allison Brennan, Alex Kava, Erica
Spindler, well, I could go on and on with that), I made new friends. I met
several of my KillerYear classmates. I met writers I’ve read, writers I haven’t
read, writers who were funny, writers who were witty, writers who are major
successes, writers who struggle and a lot of great reviewers.

I took away four VERY IMPORTANT THINGS:

  1. Writers write.

That may sound flip, but I’m dead
serious. Let me give you a little example. I had dinner with Heather Graham and her
husband Dennis (Thanks, MIRA!). Heather’s career is really missing a beat,
she’s only written 127 books. Let me repeat myself. 127 BOOKS. I’ve
written 2. And the first didn’t sell. There’s nothing like being around people
who do this for a living to make you go, Oh.

So I’ll say it again, and it’s the
most important lesson I took away from the conference.

Writers write. They don’t him and
haw, don’t “walk the dog” for days on end. The don’t get themselves so wrapped
up in blogs and emails and distractions that they find two weeks going by
without a single word written. When you have 4 books coming out a year, you sit
your ass in the chair and write the books. Heck, if you’ve got one book coming
out a year, you sit your ass in the chair and write. Period. End of discussion.

  1. There is always someone who knows more than you do about writing and publishing.

Seriously, these writers have sold
over 1 billion copies of their books. That’s a lot of writing. Can you believe
I’m sitting here trying to figure out the word count for that? If my math is
right, (I don’t do math. That’s why I became a writer) given the assumption
that each book averages 100,000 words, that comes to approximately 100 trillion
words. Crap.

So basically, as a newly published
author, you’re in the room with people who’ve forgotten more words per capita
than you will ever think, much less write. Pretty humbling. Plus each one has
been through what you’re going through; they have all navigated the proverbial
waters.

Don’t hesitate to ask questions. Buy drinks if necessary. Writers
with two or three or one hundred books know more than you. Remember that, and
be appropriately in awe.

  1. Connections are the name of the game.

I’m blessed that while I start off
shy, I can have fun by myself in a paper bag and have intelligent conversation
with walls. Letting shy get in the way of having a good time is the curse of
the modern writer. Tess Gerritsen is shy (don’t believe me? Read her
blog) and she comes to the conferences and
acquits herself quite well. If you worked at a company and went to the office
everyday, you’d find yourself with friends over time. Go to a conference and
within 2 hours you’ll have met five people who want to share your Xanax, within
5 hours you’ll be happily arm in arm, singing show tunes. Okay, I’m
exaggerating. But reviewers are real people. Major A-list writers are real
people. Editor and agents are real people (Hell, Bob Diforio can get jiggy with the best
of them). See where I’m going? I was so scared going in, and it was just a
silly fear of the unknown.

Here’s the most important
realization that I had this weekend…

4. No matter how big and
important or small and unimportant, we’re all in this together. Big name
writers get those twinges of self-doubt when they sit down to their computers
just like Newbies. The reason they broke through is a certain je ne sais quoi,
a desire to explore new worlds, to share their magnificent brains with the rest
of us, to entertain, to teach, to amuse and enlighten. And they have AIC
syndrome. Ass. In. Chair.

Guess what? You can do it too! Put
away that shyness, put aside the procrastination. Write like there’s no
tomorrow, then make the reservations and go spend three glorious days with
people who think just like you do.

Wine of the Week — Domaine Des Espiers Côtes du Rhône

 

Calling Cards

Unlike movies, books aren’t advertised on TV and radio, except on rare occasions.  So the responsibility for advertising my books falls on my shoulders.  Although an engineering student, I studied advertising and media at college.  I learned about the all-important “opportunities to view.”  Essentially, for an advertisement to work, it must be seen several times before the viewer remembers the product and this excludes all the times the viewer misses the advertisement.  So the ad has to be run dozens of times before it has an effect.  That’s a lot of advertising dollars that I’m not willing (or able) to foot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t advertise my work and myself. 

My short stories and articles are my advertisements and they work in two ways.  First, these stories and articles work for me as a calling card.  They remind people that I exist and I’m still doing that writing thing.  If they read one of my previous books, then maybe it’s time to check out another.  Second, my stories and articles operate like a “try before you buy program.”  People can sample my work without laying out a penny.  This is an important consideration if the reader is going to invest their money in a writer they’ve never tried before.  People get to read my work and if they like it, hopefully, they’ll go out and get my books.

This isn’t to say that my primary reason for writing stories and articles is mercenary.  The fact that they work as calling cards is an added benefit.  I write what I write because I want to.  The stories and articles flex my writing muscles.  The workouts they provide keep me trim.

There’s an added benefit of writing and selling articles instead of paying for advertising, too.  The magazines are paying me for my work.  They are paying me to advertise my current book or next book.  I couldn’t ask for more.  J

Now, writing short stories and articles doesn’t work for every writer.  Personally, I find it easy to write them, but I know a lot of novelists who find it impossible.  But every writer needs a calling card to help promote his or her work.  Mine is stories and articles.  What’s yours?

Simon Wood

Magic Machine

NAOMI HIRAHARA

I’m one of those sickening loyal people. Not only about friends, but also regarding material objects, especially those I’ve traveled in (case in point–my1991 Honda Accord) or worked with.

That loyalty extends to my computer as well. So I have a confession to make. I’ve worked on the same PC for close to eight years. I’m on Windows 98. I use WordPerfect 6. I don’t have a CD burner and I don’t have plug-in for a memory stick. As my thirtysomething acquiring editor commented two years ago, I’m so old school.

In the past, employers would introduce me to new programs. From WordStar (remember that one?) to Word, from PageMaker to QuarkExpress, from floppies to LAN connections, from modems to e-mail. But being self-employed since 1996, I must now look to myself to make technological advancements. And sadly, in some areas, I’ve been largely frozen in time.

My younger Gen-X brother, who goes through technological equipment like toothbrushes, does not understand.

Is it because I’m cheap? (Yes.) Is it because I’m concerned about the environment? (A little, especially after seeing what those Chinese villagers have to do in destroying old computer parts.) Is it because I loathe change? (I don’t think so.)

I’ve always felt some disdain towards the belief that there’s some kind of magic in the externals–what computer you use, your software program, what room you write in, your writing schedule. After all, I cut my teeth as a journalist in a big room without dividers, sitting across from another writer, a good friend, who smoked. I couldn’t wait for my environment to be comfortable or quiet. I just needed to turn on my pitiful desktop air filter, get my thoughts in order, and then allow these organized thoughts move to the tips of my fingers.

And I’ve heeded warnings from colleagues such as Jervey Tervalon who wrote in his essay, "Literary Sharecropper" in the L.A. Weekly back in 2004: "My advice to those who want to write the Great American Novel? Keep the overhead low. Forget about that iMac with the 22-inch monitor; soon enough you’ll regret it, no matter how much you imagine it will improve your productivity. " I took that advice hard. Why spend that advance on technology, when you can use it for things like food and a roof over your head?

And last of all, I admit that it had become a point of pride that I had either written or edited nine books on a crappy piece of equipment. As if I deserved a badge of honor.

But finally, finally, I must say that I acquiesce. When I used Turbo Tax this year, my IBM computer monitor was so outdated that I could barely open the program. And when I did, it came out all distorted on my old monitor. I can’t download the latest Adobe Acrobat or some templates from Microsoft.

It’s really starting to affect work.

Laptops are not for me. I can’t stand the keyboard and the mouse pad is horrific. My husband says that when I type on my standard keyboard, my fingers move as if I’m playing a piano. (So those all of those years of piano lessons, didn’t go to waste!) I know that you can stick a regular keyboard onto a laptop, but why bother? And I’m very rough on my equipment, not good for the delicate construction of laptop computers. I like to leave the computer on 24/7, a practice I learned from my boss at a pr firm I used to work at.

So I need your advice. What kind of IBM-compatible personal computer would you recommend? And more importantly, what features? CD burner, etc. What gigabyte capacity? Help me, help me. And what do I do about all my e-mail addresses in Outlook?

And to my dear computer, manufactured by a company long out of business–what we had together was truly magic, but it’s really time for you to go now.

WEDNESDAY’S WORD: Kuru-kuru-pa (SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI, page 180)

The beauty of the Japanese language is its onomatopoeic language. Say kuru-kuru three times fast. What does it sound like? Perhaps an old wooden spoked wheel going round and round? Or fishing line being released from around a rod? In fact, kuru-kuru means to turn, twirl, or go round and round. Kuru-kuru-pa, on the other hand, is a colloquialism meaning "crazy." It comes with its own hand gesture, too–use the same American gesture for crazy, twirling an index finger around the ear and then when getting to the pa part of the phrase, close the hand and open quickly, extending all five fingers. There you go. Apparently kuru-kuru-pa is no secret in the States–there’s an art-noise punk band in Philadelphia who has adopted the phrase as its name.

DID ANYONE SAY HAWAI‘I?: According to an entry on DorothyL, convention planners extraordinaire Toby and Bill Gottfried are considering a Left Coast Crime in Hawaii (either on the Big Island or Kauai) in 2009. Is there any interest, they ask? Well, as a person who just returned from Kauai on Monday, I would say a resounding "yes"! My ultimate dream to see a sea turtle up close was realized on this trip. Of course, bookstores are far and few between in Kauai, but Borders Kauai will be fully remodeled by September 2006. I picked up McDougal’s Honolulu Mysteries, edited by the late Glen Grant, at the Kauai Museum and am utterly charmed by these truth-based tales of a lone detective in Honolulu in the 1930s. If you are planning to go to Honolulu on vacation this year, I highly recommend you read these stories on the plane ride there.

I THINK I’M TIRED DEPT.: You know when you’re a little slow when an official New York resident beats you to the news about an article in your local paper. Some nice bits on great friends and literary heroes.

QUIBBLES & BITS

For those who live in the States HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY

This week my Quibble is called:

THAT DIRTY WORD

No, no, not that word. I’m talking about

PROLOGUES

Some readers hate ’em [or say they do].

My dictionary defines prologue as "the preface or introduction to a literary work." Does that mean that if/when I write a prologue I’ve written a literary work? Cool.

Another definition is: "An introductory or preceding event or development."

And that, my friends, is what I believe a good prologue should be . . . and most of the time they are. But, somehow, the prologue has gotten a bad rap. It’s a dirty word.

What I hear – a lot:

"I skip prologues."
"I don’t think you need ’em."
"Why can’t it be Chapter One?"
"I read a prologue that had nothing to do with the book."

That last quote is valid, IF a prologue has "nothing to do with the book." But I can’t believe a professional author sets out to write a prologue that has nothing to do with his/her book [or a book that has nothing to do with his/her prologue]. So WHY does the prologue have a bad rep?

I pulled a few books – at random and I didn’t cheat – from my bookshelf.

John Grisham’s The Firm doesn’t have a prologue.

Clive Cussler’s Raise TheTitanic has one, except he calls it a "Prelude."

Pat Conroy’s The Prince of Tides has a Prologue that ends thusly:
I will tell you my story.
Nothing is missing.
I promise you.

Tess Geritsen’s Body Double has a Prologue. Skip it and you’ve missed an important part of the book.

Harlan Coben’s Tell No One has no prologue. But it’s not Chapter One, either (that starts on page 11). The prologue that isn’t a prologue isn’t headed by any title. Clever Harlan.

And last but not least, Gordon Aalborg’s The Specialist. No Prologue, but Chapter One has a subtitle that reads:
Tasmania                                           
[Where there be devils]
Clever Gordon!

Once upon a fairly long time ago, I wrote a Prologue for FOOTPRINTS IN THE BUTTER. The Prologue took place at a high school reunion dance. Shortly thereafter, one of the reunionites gets thunked over the Footprints_inthe_butter_1 head with a miniature reproduction of "The Thinker." Chapter Two has Ingrid [my sleuth] discussing the murder with her friend Cee-Cee [who at age 60+ is still sleeping with her ex-husband, a cop – that way I can bring the cops in without bringing the cops in :::grin:::]. Ingrid talks about the people at the reunion dance and their motives and Cee-Cee responds. My agent asked if Cee-Cee "knew these people." My answer: "She does if she read my prologue."

The Prologue became Chapter Three — what I fondly called my "flashback  Chapter." And yes, I had to rewrite the Ingrid/Cee-Cee scene. [To your left is the large-print edition – Trade paperback in the US, hardcover in the UK,]

Today I’m schizy about putting Prologues in my books. As a mid-list author, I can’t afford to lose one potential reader, so I tend to write my prologues under the guise of an introduction.

Here’s a [short] intro to my next book, THE LANDLORD’S BLACK-EYED DAUGHTER, a "paranormal history-mystery romance."

                        6, April, 1766

            Seated beside the open coffin, the watchers waited. They waited
to see whether Barbara Wyndham’s body moved. They watched intently while
mourners trailed past. Blind belief said that if Barbara’s body began to
bleed, ‘twould identify her murderer.
            There was some question as to whether Barbara had suffered a
seizure of the heart and fallen and hit her head on a rock. Or had she been
struck by some unknown hand?
            Seven-year-old Elizabeth Wyndham watched with the watchers, but
her mother remained motionless.
            "Mama," Elizabeth whispered, "are ye sleeping?"
            "Your mother sleeps evermore, my Bess," said Lawrence Wyndham,
lifting his daughter up into his arms.
            Elizabeth pressed her tear-streaked face against his shoulder.
At the same time she wondered with a twinge of fear how it would feel to
sleep evermore.

Is that a prologue? Sure it is. It’s a "preceding event" — a thread that runs throughout the book. But I "cheat" by heading it with a date [rather than "that dirty word"].

The other day I found an interesting prologue. It’s on my pillow. It says: "Do not remove tag under penalty of law."

It’s a very successful prologue because I want to know more. Like, why?

Over and Out,
Deni