by J.T. Ellison

Succinct title, eh?

I’ve been struggling mightily with this post, because it discusses behavior — and as such can be misinterpreted, or twisted, and I don’t want either of those things to happen.

I was put in an awkward situation the other day by a "pre-published" new author. The author introduced  him/herself, then announced that I would be receiving the manuscript for an endorsement, and wanted my agent’s number (right then) so he could be called directly using my name as the in.

Umm… oookaaayyy. When I expressed regret at not being able to do that, it didn’t go over well. I walked away feeling bad for him/her, because he/she overstepped the bounds
by assuming he/she "knew" me, and as thus thought that I would do them a
favor. And by "knew" me, I mean met me for the first time three
minutes earlier. (Honestly, didn’t know who I was until I this appearance.)

It is possible to be too forward, too enthusiastic, and too arrogant. We all make mistakes. I hope that some clarification today can help you avoid the embarrassment I’ve faced. I thought we could talk about what not to do when you’re meeting an
author, both online and in person. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not
preaching, I’m just going to share some of the mistakes I’ve made, and
the ones I’m seeing on a much more regular basis lately.

It’s the Do
and Don’t list that I wish I’d had when I first started out.

There is a lack of formality in our culture now. We immediately call strangers by their first names. We readily share our opinions about politics and religion — two of the topics most people avoid in an opening conversation. We talk about how much money we make, or don’t make. We talk about our sex lives with perfect strangers. People gauge the respect of their peers by the gadgets accumulated, the cars driven, the shoes bought, the clothes worn, instead of actually seeing the real person. Whatever happened to true beauty comes from within? Where has all of our integrity gone?

I see it all the time, these incredibly superficial assumptions that people make, and it drives me mad. We invite ourselves along to events, mooch off our pseudo-friends, cozy up to people uninvited, horn in on conversations and talk on our cellphone while we’re interacting with our service industry. And of course this doesn’t apply to EVERYONE — there are no absolutes in this world. But there’s a large segment of society who don’t pay any attention to the important things anymore.

The world is changing rapidly, and authors are in the cross-fire. I
think it’s in large part due to the Internet, our ability to connect
and actually feel like we KNOW people we’ve never actually met. It
seems like there’s less of a deference out there, and more of a
familiarity, and as such, a sense of entitlement. And this sense of "I
deserve a shortcut to achieve the same things you’ve worked for"
attitude is incredibly scary to me.

I understand that in our less formal world, it’s easier to approach our heroes. Hell, I spent an hour today friending some rather famous people on MySpace whom I greatly admire. So I’m as guilty as the next person.

But there is a fine line between civility and friendship. Just because we’ve met someone, we can’t presume to think that we’re actually friends. The term acquaintance seems to have gone the way of the unicorn. And you don’t presume upon acquaintances to do favors for you. It makes one think that perhaps, just perhaps, one might be being used.

So let’s cover some of the ground rules when approaching your favorite author. Try not to make the number one mistake, the one that I will probably go down in history for. I’ll set the scene — it’s Thrillerfest, in Phoenix. I’ve just gotten my deal (and I mean just — I was three three weeks or so old.) I see one of my favorite authors across the lobby, make a beeline for her, and introduce myself. But I’m so damn excited that I trip up. And by the way, the author in question? Tess Gerristen, our newest ‘Rati member. (This is a perfect example of how life can come full circle.)

Me: Tess? (Notice I’ve already broken cardinal rule number one, I’m using the first name of someone I’ve never spoken to or had any contact with…) I stick out my hand, which she has no choice but to grasp, because if she doesn’t intercept it, I’ll probably break one of her ribs.

Me (again): "Tess, I’m J.T. Ellison!!!" (Cue unintelligible mumbling, as I try to figure out what the hell to say.) "Tess, I, uh… You’re my biggest fan!" I blurt this last part out with obscene enthusiasm — the kind reserved for the rabid fox, or werewolves nearing a full moon.

Tess, her always gracious self, shook my hand and smiled. I then proceeded to rush away, ears burning with the embarrassment of my gaffe. Apparently, Tess was my biggest fan, rather than I hers. I felt like a total dork.

But I took away a lesson. Temper yourself in your dealings, and you’ll be better prepared.

Rewind even further, to the completion of my first manuscript — the one in the drawer. This story is truly cringe worthy. I’m not proud of this, but here you go. I got the name of an author here in Nashville. I had it in my mind that if I called and introduced myself, he’d introduce me to his agent. (Sound familiar at all???) I finagled his home number from a friend, called him up, introduced myself, pitched my situation, and waited, sure that he’d leap upon me like a crow on a junebug and offer to send me to his agent. Ah, hubris.

The highly intelligent writer, recognizing me as an overenthusiastic newbie, murmured niceties at me, made suggestions, legitimate ones — get a copy of Writer’s Market — I’ve already done that! — Get a good query letter together — I’ve already done that! — Make submissions to agents who match your kind of work — I’ve already done that!… After the 4th or 5th suggestion, he finally replied "Well, I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to help you." Of course he couldn’t, because I wanted the unattainable. I want a shortcut.

I didn’t get it, and had to work my butt off to get my deal. And to this day I blush when I see him, praying he hasn’t connected me with the gibbering idiot who was so rude to call him and not listen.

So with that in mind, let’s talk a bit about what is okay and what isn’t when you’re talking to an author.

• Don’t say, "Hi, it’s great to meet you. I was hoping you’d blurb my book/introduce me to your agent/get my manuscript in front of your editor/endorse my book so I can get an agent."

• Do say, "It’s nice to meet you. May I email you after the conference with a question?"

Here’s how blurbing works. You get an agent. Your agent sells your book. Your editor tells you who they’d like you to approach. They usually do so by contacting that person’s agent or editor and asking if they’d be willing to read your book for a POSSIBLE endorsement. It’s a difficult and dicey proposition to approach an author directly, in person. It puts us in an untenable position. Most of us are already laden-down with requests from our editors and agents to look at material they’ve suggested. And no one ever wants to disappoint — especially new writers who are trying to break in. You see, we’ve all been there, and we know how hard it is. It’s a terrible let-down to ask for a blurb in person and get a no.

I was absolutely and utterly blessed to be able to get so many wonderful blurbs for my first book. And a few of them I got because I asked directly. I read panic in eyes a few times, and now I understand why. (And may I publicly apologize to Allison Brennan for doing this to her
a couple of years ago??? I am proud as hell to have her blurb on the
front of my next book, but I should never have asked the way I did.)

I’ll repeat it — None of us want to disappoint you. Ever. It’s heartbreaking to have to say no sometimes. But there are so many factors that go into the decision to blurb a book — at least, for me there is. A – I am busier than a one-armed paper hanger with books due every six months for the next eighteen months. Seriously, those are my real life deadlines. B – I am ultra picky. I don’t have any hard and fast rules like some other folks I know, just a commitment to myself that unless I really love something I won’t blurb it. If my agent or my editors want me to look at a book, obviously I’m going to say sure. I’ve turned books down from them, but I’m always willing to take a look.

If you’re going to seek a blurb, do it in a kind and considerate manner. If we’re at a conference together, don’t come to my post-panel signing and announce that you’ll be sending your manuscript to me for an endorsement. Don’t put me on the spot. Have the courtesy to send me an email after the conference. A simple Hi, remember me? I’m so and so, and I’ve written XYZ’s Guide to the Galaxy. You’re one of my favorite authors, you are the most amazing writer to ever grace the planet (ha) … and I see that you like this kind of book (BECAUSE YOU’VE DONE YOUR RESEARCH ABOUT ME, RIGHT???) and I’d like to ask you to give it a look. I understand how busy you are, and so appreciate you taking the time to give me a shot. I’ll be happy to send you a copy of the manuscript.

And that’s it. Don’t grovel, don’t beg. Be confident but not cocky, show respect for my time and yours, and never, ever ask for my home address. Strangers wanting to know where I live freaks me out. And understand that if I say no, 99% of the time it’s simply because I’m out of time.

• Here’s another tip. DO NOT, under any circumstances, ask for a shortcut.

Asking how we got our agent, how our first sale was made, absolutely. But you can’t expect to be formally educated about how the publishing industry works, how to get an agent, how to get a deal, how to write a query letter, how to write a synopsis… few of us had that. We went out and looked for it. The vast majority of published authors did their homework, learned through trial and error, and most importantly, did it themselves.

AND… everyone’s path is different. There isn’t a silver bullet, one right way up this mountain. There are many, many, many ways into the industry. Ask forty different authors and you’ll get forty different stories. You need to find what’s right for YOU and YOUR book.

• Don’t seek out blurbs for books that aren’t agented. Period. Yes, some people have, and yes, they’ve gotten picked up. But don’t. (This refers to submitting to agents.)

• Do treat yourself with respect, and expect others to treat you with respect as well. Pre-published and newly published does not equal laden with thermonuclear cooties.

• Don’t put yourself or your work down. Especially if you’re pitching. Self-deprecation is fine, but your work is your art. If it seems like you don’t take it seriously, how can anyone else?

• Don’t assume that now that you’ve shaken hands with an author, you’ve been given the secret handshake and are on the in. I’ve got a secret for you. There IS no secret handshake in the publishing world. Alex covered this in her incredibly insightful post last week.

• Do be kind and generous in your compliments to authors.

• Don’t use. And you know what I mean. Sycophants get places, but they don’t get far.

• Do join every network you can find in your genre. You will meet tons of other authors, new and established, who can steer you in the right direction. But even there, show temperance. Don’t launch in on the first day looking for handouts. Give it at least two weeks. Then introduce yourself. Then go away and watch some more. Then join the fray, constructively. Give before you  ask to receive.

• DON’T GET DRUNK AT THE CONFERENCES. This should go for everyone, new, pre- and established authors. It’s just so not cool to be a self-indulgent idiot when you’re trying to work. And conferences, despite all the opinions to the contrary, are a work event. You don’t want to be the one everyone goes home and talks about to their other friends. Mystery conferences are not Vegas. What happens at a conference gets broadcast to the rest of the community so quickly it sometimes makes me think there are hidden cameras.

• Listen to what Zoë said yesterday about not butting into private conversations.

• Last but not least, the most important DON’T of all. Don’t forget to say thank you.

This has already gone on way too long. Suffice it to say that it’s always better to remember your manners when dealing with established authors. And it wouldn’t hurt to use them in all your dealings.

Any super cringe-worthy moments y’all would like to share???

Wine of the week:  2003 Benedetta Chianti

And a big P.S. to all the Daddys out there, most especially mine. HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, and thanks for making us. Love you, Daddy!

I once spent three weeks trying to track down a song. I heard it on the radio, recognized that I’d heard it… somwehere, and went on the hunt trying to place it. Arghhh.
ER song when Carter gets stabbed.hhghgh

by J.T. Ellison

"Grandma, what’s this?" Our grandson, precocious and brilliant, hands me a hardcover copy of Lee Child’s NOTHING TO LOSE, published June 3, 2008. The pages are yellowing, the spine is cracked. The book is well-read.

His way. All-digital, no paper, no binding. Free for download — every "book" ever written at the touch of a button. The terabyte readers, the size of my thumb, are obsolete. Holographic images make reading more like watching a movie —  a device the size of a hearing aid allows the brain to process the words into scenes which act themselves out before your eyes. There are no publishing houses. Everything is accessible online, and the online world is very different from what we had when I was writing books.

Sigh. Yes, I’ve done something I don’t normally do — look to the future to anticipate what might happen to our industry. This is obviously a sci-fi version of events (including the virtual grandson.) With the glut of blogs this week decrying Book Expo, Borders laying off 274 employees, Harper Collins announcing by Summer 2009 all of their sales catalog will be 100% electronic, the huge spike in book trailers, my own publisher, Mira, making every front-list title automatically available as e-books, agents using Kindles to plow through their submissions so they don’t have to lug manuscripts back and forth… I think we need to start facing facts.

The future of the book industry is happening, right now.

Book Expo was less well attended this year, understandable for three reasons — one, it’s damn expensive to travel now. Two, the American Library Association meeting is later this month in California as well — a big travel cost to expect the librarians to undertake. And three — the simple fact that so much of our work is done electronically, it’s not cost-effective for publishers to travel to trade shows. Thomas Nelson, always a major force at BEA, pulled out entirely. If you think of the cost of flying your entire sales staff across country, hotel and food costs, parties to be thrown, renting booth space, putting together a slick and user-friendly booth, having your booth staffed with sales folks and authors, oh, and let’s not forget — GIVING AWAY THOUSANDS OF BOOKS — you can imagine just how much that costs a publisher.

Has the trade show gone the way of the dinosaur?  Is it obsolete?  There’s certainly no lack of criticism, but I see that every year. I went to Book Expo last year, signed in my publisher’s booth, then spent hours wandering around, overwhelmed with the choices, watching sales folks take meetings with bookstore reps, collecting more free books than I could legitimately carry, and in general had a good time. But  outside of handing free books to potential readers (who, remember, must PAY for the privilege of being handed said "free" book by registering for the conference) and holding meetings with booksellers, how effective is the trade show? What purpose does it serve, when in reality, the vast majority of connections are done electronically?

Back in the day when we didn’t have the Internet to access and meet our customers, the trade show was a vital aspect of business. I used to be a staffer at our trade shows for Lockheed Martin, and trust me, many, many deals were made, for billions of dollars. Companies were able to meet the people who were submitting proposals, shake hands and look into the eye of the guy you may be awarding a multi-million dollar contract to. That was very, very important. Now, will the faux-closeness of the Internet, we don’t need to worry about it. We can get to know someone very well through their online dealings. You don’t NEED to meet in person, video conferencing takes care of that.

When Harper Collins announced they were going all electronic, I wasn’t especially surprised. Think about it, most of our major organizations have e-newsletters available instead of mailing hard copies. Emails correspondence from several of my "places" have a tag line at the bottom reminding me not to print the email unless it’s absolutely necessary. The greening of our culture is definitely translating to the book industry. And you know there are more changes to follow. If our next President is of a certain ilk, he’s bound to address the environmental concerns with actual green legislation — it might become illegal waste paper, and then where will we be?

Don’t get me wrong — I did a whole blog about the importance of meeting your "people" face to face. I still believe that knowing your editor and agent is vital. That
meeting the upper management and sales staff of your house is very,
very helpful. But the old way of doing business is just that, the old way. You can have a full and successful career without ever leaving your house now. Scary, but true.

We hear admonishments that we need to embrace the new age, but really, haven’t we already started? Look at what happened here at Murderati this week — we as a "web log" AKA a "blog," were nominated for one of the most prestigious crime fiction awards. This is the first time the Anthony Awards have included a website category. Two years ago, blogging in the mystery community was relatively nascent, with only a few major blogs underway. Now there are thousands, and we tell new writers, "You must have a platform — a website or a blog — to get your name out there." It’s become de rigeur to have a blog.

And let’s take a hard look at what a blog is. Remember the great concept from Stephen King in ON WRITING, where he postulates that a writer and a reader are having a telepathic connection? Right now, we’re communication, you and I. You’re reading my words and getting a window into my mind. If you’ve been a reader for long enough, you’ve watched me grow from an unpublished newbie to an author with six books under contract. I’ve changed and grown over the past two years, right before your eyes. And this blog, the instant communication, let’s me do that. Pretty cool, you know?

We’re giving away the content, too. We don’t charge for you to come read our thoughts. We’re grateful that you care enough to stop by on a regular basis, to engage in the comments, to interact with us. Can you imagine if we’d had this kind of unprecedented access to authors one hundred years ago? Heck, five years ago?

This is another important point in this brave new world. Free content. We’re giving away writing tips,  giving away marketing tips — seriously, a new writer can spend a day reading through our incredible archives and learn just about everything they need to know about getting published. When will it come to be that we’re giving our books away for free? I mean, let’s be real — my ebook sales aren’t going to be buying my Lamborghini Gallardo anytime soon, but they’re steadily rising as the Kindle becomes more and more popular. Look at Project Gutenberg. This is going to be the norm sooner than you think.

I’m lately come to text messaging and instant messaging — more because I find it a time suck than a value — but it’s the immediacy of communication that’s sweeping our culture. Heck, I don’t get a lot of email from friends anymore — we’re communicating on Facebook and Aim. I’ve been dragged kicking and screaming into this new age, but as media/geek blogger Rex Hammock points out, no one under 24 emails anymore. 

This is what we need to be paying attention to — the Echo Boomers (approx. aged 13-27) expect free digital content, easily accessible and downloadable to their portable phones. Can you imagine what their kids are going to expect?

Demand drives the consumer marketplace, and reaching consumers is our goal as writers. The word to pay attention to is instant. I’m not one to extol the virtues of instant gratification for the younger set — I still stick to the parochial belief that perhaps talking to a kid is better than just showing him a movie — but the market is trending younger, and the Echo Boomers will be making the decisions soon. A Gen Xer just took over Random House. The guy is my age, and he’s running one of the most storied publishing houses in history. I know that may sound really depressing, but for me, it’s terribly exciting. So there you go. Time, unfortunately, marches on.

As bad as I feel for the folks who had a hard time at BEA, I’m glad that everyone is starting to pay attention. Changes are sweeping through our industry, many of them for the better. Will the newer generations eradicate the physical book? Quite possibly. We never though vinyl would go the way of the dinosaur. So my earlier semi-joke about my virtual grandson reading through a mental holographic system? Maybe not so far fetched after all.

Sara Lloyd, from Pan Macmillan, published "A Book Publisher’s Manifesto for the 21st Century" in full this week, and it is an absolute must read for everyone, readers and writers alike.

So, go. Let me have it. Am I nuts?

Wine of the Week: 2006 Fuedo Arancio Nero D’Avola — Fruity and young, but tasty!

by J.T. Ellison

Have you ever noticed that we writers are a little strange? Here’s a great example for you…

I’m sitting in the airport at the moment, one of my favorite places in the whole world. There are so many PEOPLE around, so many strangers, big and thing, short and tall, black and white and hispanic and asian  (and I swear to God, an albino) blonde and brunette, male and female and kids, and babies, lots of babies. I know it’s rude to stare, but how can you not, when there are all of these different people around — all shapes and sizes and colors and smells and length of facial hair?

There’s the granola couple with the waist long dreadlocks and their newborn, the cheerleaders with their sweatpants rolled just over, just barely covering their butts, the Amazon woman — she has to be 6’6" is she’s an inch, and thin as a reed. Everyone wears different clothes and shoes and carries multiple bags and briefcases bags and look happy or sad or tired or annoyed . . . Oh, my, she really needs to put a sweater on. Ouch, that eyebrow piercing must have hurt like hell, why would you do that — really, eyebrows are so sensitive, just try getting them waxed.

It’s so strange because I’m in a city that I haven’t visited in at least ten years yet I keep imagining I recognize people walking by, because if you stop and think about it, as diverse and unique as people are, everyone still looks just like the people you know back home, I bet there’s some studies on why we ascribe certain facial affects and features onto strangers to make them feel like home.

That redhead really needs some aspirin, she’s been holding her head for five minutes now. Can you tell me why, exactly, women wear four inch heels and run late to their flights? The sweet-faced Finnish blonde is chatting with the heavyset older woman and you can see that she’s thinking about her mother as they chat. I wonder if she’s still alive?

Everyone is so busy, busy, busy, working on their computers or phones or blackberry or iPods — there really is nothing better than an elderly hippie with an iPod. Do you think they’re listening to ABBA or maybe some Stevie Nicks? That’s what it sounds like to me.

Oh, I like those sneakers, I wonder where I can find them? Can you tell me why there are wheels on a bag that’s only a foot square, because really, how heavy can you make a bag that could only carry a brick, tops?

Why aren’t more people reading? There’s a woman with a Dan Brown and a guy across from her reading something with a swastika on the front cover, and I’ve got Michael Chabon’s THE YIDDISH POLICEMAN’S UNION in my bag and I’m hoping I run out of battery soon so I have an excuse to turn this off and quit working and get back to the book, because it’s really quite good.

Do you ever notice how people don’t touch anymore — outside of the chicks who wear the four inch heels and rush to meet their planes, because they have no choice but to cling like a burr to the man (invariably bleached blonde tips on his spiky gel laced hair) walking next to her as they miss their gate and have to run the other direction. I shouldn’t get so amused at other people’s expense, karma’s going to bite me on the butt and sit me next to a crying baby for being so damn uncharitable to that poor girl but come on, honey, if you need to run take off the stupid shoes already.

Law and Order is playing on the television instead of twenty-four hour news stations, and everyone who isn’t reading (and that would be more than 3/4) are watching it blankly. I wonder how many times we’ve all seen this particular episode?

Mmmm, I smell fried chicken, real down-home fried chicken that smells so incredibly good, and there, they called my flight, I better go.

Faithfully transcribed from Midway, Chicago. Punctuation layered in later.

And so it goes. I love airports, and I love traveling, because somewhere in this little exposition there’s a gem waiting to be seized upon. After rereading it, I know what it is, and I’ll use it in my new book.

I’ve had to travel more and more in support of my books — to conferences and to signings all over the country. A simple four day conference is enough to exhaust me for a week anymore, which is pretty damn sad. Happily, I’ve wrapped up the last tour stop for my debut, and now get to focus on the next book. I’m curtailing my travel for this one, picking my dates very carefully. I’ll do some travel, but nothing as extensive as my 12 states from November to May. It’s just too much.

Now, enough of my babble, let’s talk about Mayhem in the Midlands. This is an exceptional conference, filled to the gills with READERS! The Omaha Public Library puts this one on, and from the minute I checked in I had a good feeling (maybe it was the book bag with an Agatha Christie novel in it?) One thing I’ve learned in the past six months, I prefer the reader conferences to the writer’s conventions. Not that I don’t love hanging with my friends, but that doesn’t get me in front of readers, which is where my bread and butter is.  Mayhem did an amazing job this year: the guest of honor, Alex Kava, worked with the conference organizers to develop a full-day forensics track with experts from the Douglas County crime lab, C.L. Retelsdorf and David Kofoed, the ADA from Douglas County, Leigh Ann Retelsdorf (siblings, not spouses…), and Dr. Melissa Connor, an incredible woman who handles excavation of mass graves, and in her spare time runs the Forensic Program at Nebraska Wesleyan. An embarrassment of riches, no doubt.

I was lucky enough to participate in two panels on Forensic Friday, both discussing forensics in our books and the realities of researching crime scene minutiae. It was enlightening, and a lot of fun. There was a presentation over lunch that covered a case handled by the Douglas County Crime Lab and prosecuted by Leigh Ann Retelsdorf — Jessica O’Grady — whose body was never found, but her killer is in prison for life. It was an incredible and intimate view of a forensics-laden case, replete with blood spatter analysis, detailed drawings, photographs and  diagrams, including a 3-D video reenactment of the crime scene. Suffice it to say I left lunch with a book already underway.

I think what I liked so much about this weekend was the vibe. The authors attended the panels with the readers, everyone participated, there was no posturing or pitching or ass-kissing, just genuine interest in each other. The line-up was stellar, and I was honored to be able to do a day of drive-by signings with my dear friends Shane Gericke, Rick Mofina, J.A. Konrath (aka James Patterson), Alex Kava and Erica Spindler (yes, it was an INCREDIBLE day!) then walked into the hotel and met toastmaster Jeff Abbott, who is as cool as his books, and makes a pretty good toast. I finally met Barbara Fister and Doris Ann Norris, and Carl Brookings, and Charlaine Harris!!! Jan Burke was there, her always gracious self, toting her incredible, vast knowledge of all things forensic. I got to hang with Libby Fischer Hellman and Marilyn Meredith, Sean Doolittle and the irrepressible Trey Barker, waved at least five times to Toni Kelner, ate with the adorable Chris Everhart and his writing partner, Gary Bush, and the elegant David Walker, got to spend some actual quality time with the always gorgeous and surprising Twist Phelan. I missigned Anthony Neil Smith’s copy of my book (duh, it’s NEIL), traded quips with my bud Chris Grabenstein, watched Donna Andrews work the room like the pro she is, put a face to the great name Honora Finkelstein and met her writing partner Sue Smiley.

Deb Carlin, Alex Kava’s business manager, had the four days scheduled like a well-oiled machine, and it was such a pleasure to be directed by her! There were four different booksellers in the bookroom, all of whom were adorable and kind, especially Becci West from I Love A Mystery in Mission, Kansas — the skull with the sunglasses was too much!

There was more: more people I met for the first time, more hands shaken, contacts made, laughter joined, but you get the picture. All in all, this was a great con, one that I’d be honored to attend again.

The best part though? I came home with a plethora of new ideas. Stuff to work into my current WIP, an entire book I want to do… and a true sense that I’m finding my place in all this. It’s scary to fly across the country to meet 200 people you don’t know, to have three panels to present, to be on for four days straight. But I’d go back tomorrow, it was just that good. Pictures here!

So what makes a good conference for you? And if you answer in stream of consciousness, I’ll give extra points — actually, anyone who comments today will be entered in the drawing for an ARC of my newest novel, 14.

Wine of the Week: I was introduced to this one by the lovely and talented Erica Spindler (another amazingly cool author you must read) Seghesio Old Vine Zinfandel — rich, big and spicy, a fantastic partner with the soft-as-butter fillet I had Saturday night. (and yes, I’m on a zin kick!)

by J.T. Ellison

The lovely and mondo-talented Patti Abbott has started a cool retrospective called LOST BOOK FRIDAYS on her blog, Pattinase. (Click here for a listing of other LOST BOOKS) She asked me to contribute, and since I’m actually in Omaha today, at the wonderful Mayhem in the Midlands conference, I agreed to play.

My LOST BOOK is a controversial one. SONGS OF INNOCENCE, by Richard Aleas (AKA Charles Ardai.)

I’m sure there isn’t a soul in the crime fiction world who didn’t hear about the situation with Charles Ardai and the Edgar Awards, and I’m not going to delve into that quagmire. But since this book couldn’t get the recognition it deserved for the awards, I’d like to name it my LOST BOOK. (Richard Aleas is the pen name for Charles Ardai, to clear any lingering confusion.)

The title, SONGS OF INNOCENCE, is taken from the title of a book of poems by William Blake, one of my favorite dead guys, and obviously fitting for a detective named John Blake. The opening epigraph to Aleas’s book uses a selection from "On Another’s Sorrow":

I love the idea of this level of compassion, that it takes the truly tortured to understand grief and loss. This book takes this concept and pushes it to the extreme, to the very limits of human endurance, and beyond.

It’s a lovely opening to this story, the sequel to Aleas’s excellent debut LITTLE GIRL LOST. I read that and loved it, but SONGS OF INNOCENCE takes the next step, moving John Blake into a world with no boundaries, where the sex trade runs rampant in the streets of New York, where his own sanity is at risk. Aleas takes his character, puts him out on the ledge without a net, and watches to see what he’ll do. I love seeing authors take that kind of risk.

Which begs the question: When writing a series, or at least inter-connected works, how far can you push a character onto that ledge? Aleas does it so seamlessly, so effectively, that I wasn’t mad at him when I read the end (I’m not going to talk any more about the book, so don’t worry, no spoilers.) Surprised, yes. But I understood. I bought into the epigraph — Can I see another’s woe — I certainly can see and understand John Blake’s woe. It’s masterfully done.

John Connolly manages this as well — the tortured soul seeking redemption. Charlie Parker is my all time favorite character, simply because he is so imperfect, so haunted (literally and figuratively.) He’s driven by his past, trying to escape the horrors he’s lived through. He’s desperately trying to find a way to survive in a mean world — one that is essentially of his own making, mind you. Dave White does a nice job of this in his debut, WHEN ONE MAN DIES, as well. Jackson Donne is as flawed a PI as they come without being a cliche. Our J.D. Rhoades has a tortured soul in Jack Keller — a bounty hunter  — again, a peripheral law enforcement occupation. Maybe that’s the trick — make sure these guys aren’t cops and you can get away with it. These meaty characters are so hard to pull off, but when executed well, it’s nirvana.

We talked two weeks ago about the dangers of exposing character weaknesses, but these are four authors who do it right. I’m trying to think of some female characters that can fall into this category — Karin Slaughter’s Lena Adams comes to mind. She’s tortured, no doubt. I’m reading the latest installment in the Grant County series, BEYOND REACH, right now and I’ve got to say, I’m more annoyed at Lena’s stupidity that empathetic to her plight. I wonder if it’s just me, that flawed men are fascinating but flawed women are just flawed?

Hmm… now there’s some food for thought on a Friday.

I invite you to share your favorite lost book in the comments, your favorite epigraphs and/or your favorite tortured characters. I’ll be checking in sporadically. A big thanks to Patti Abbott for inviting me to play along, and I wish you the happiest of Fridays.

Wine of the Week: 7 Deadly Zins, a surprisingly original wine. I’m not a big zinfandel drinker, but this one blew my socks off. Light, but friendly.

PS: I’m giving away an ARC of my new book, 14, to my newsletter list at the end of the month. Just head over to JTEllison.com, sign up, and you’ll automatically be entered. When I send out my newsletter, I’ll announce the winner there. (And a note, I only mail these quarterly, so don’t expect to be inundated!)

Here’s the whole Blake poem, for those of you who are interested.

Long, short or somewhere in between, the acknowledgment section of a novel is one of my favorites parts of the reading experience.

I’d like to thank…

by J.T. Ellison

I’ve mentioned this story before, and I’m sure it won’t be the last
time I talk about it, but I had another one of those "MOMENTS" this week, and thought we could talk about what it means to have a hero.

My reemergence into the world of fiction was
something of an accident, one that began with picking up a Labrador
retriever and blowing out my back.

The subsequent year of post-surgery recovery meant long hours of sheer boredom, lots of hard work, and a new love affair with the written word. I’ve always been a reader. I tried my hand at writing in school and was discouraged, or lazy, or maybe a bit of both. Writing, you see, is actually hard work. I think I took the easy way out when I listened to my stupid professor. She was right in one way — not that I’d never be published, but that I wasn’t ready to be a professional writer. Not then. Going off to grad school in a different discipline gave me a wonderful perspective on the world, and a husband, for which I am eternally grateful.

But I always felt something was missing, that I wasn’t in the right place. I had glamorous jobs, rubbing elbows with the people who were changing the world, and none of them were at all satisfying. Nothing fit. Granted, I was too much of an idealist to succeed in politics, but I was drifting. When we moved to Tennessee and I couldn’t land a job right away, then my back blew, there was a sneaking sense of relief. I could start over. Reinvent, in a new town, with new friends, and exorcise all my old, lingering dissatisfactions with my world.

I can safely say that despite the pain and suffering (I couldn’t bend at the waist for 6 months) I don’t regret that surgery in the slightest (or the damn dog I picked up that caused the rupture), because if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be on the path I am today. Surgery meant downtime, which meant reading. I’d always felt vaguely guilty before — reading was my first love, but if I wasn’t "doing" something . . . Now, I had no choice but to lay in the bed and read. Crime fiction was my go to, and I devoured everything I could get my hands on — and what the library had to offer.

And I found John Sandford.

And with his books, I had a resurgence of my desire to write. And more than that, he gave me the courage to shoot for a completely new career in my early thirties.

I decided to try again. I had a character — a female Lucas Davenport of sorts, and I gave it a whirl. It didn’t work so well, so I sat down with MIND PREY and literally took it apart — deconstructed the first six chapters or so and saw some light at the end of the tunnel. So not only did this man inspire me, he TAUGHT me too, and that’s no small thing.

And I became a writer. It really was that simple, or that hard, however you’d like to look at it. Inspiration, hard work, add water and voila — a career is born. I think it’s seems easy in retrospect. This actually was my MO — throw myself into something wholeheartedly, research and learn and try. But before, I always, always lost interest. With writing, I find myself a ridiculous workaholic, putting in stupid hours because I love what I do. It’s huge, finding what you’re meant to be. Some people find it through their children. Some find it through philanthropic ventures. And some of us find it in writing.

My MOMENT? I met John Sandford this week. And yes, the hallelujah chorus sang a verse.

Sandford was charming, and vulnerable, and such a consummate professional that I again felt that
overwhelming "Why do I do anything on the computer but write?" feeling. To top off his talk, I actually met him, shook his hand, told him he was my inspiration, (and made a little joke — I didn’t know whether to thank him or not, considering I’m doing two books a year…)  and thankfully he’d actually been prepped and knew who I was. He even gave me a compliment, which made me float. I went home trembling. I don’t get fired up like that very often, but I was literally vibrating with excitement at meeting him and finding him to be such an incredibly nice guy.

I’ve had two weeks of this nirvana. I was in New York for a bit of Edgar fun. I saw my dear Lee Child, met my new crush Arthur Phillips, had a lovely conversation with Michael Chabon, and spent good twenty minutes talking with Nelson Demille and his lovely wife. I mean, come on, already. This is ridiculous dream stuff, isn’t it? I’ve now met all of my major literary heroes save one, and she (Karin Slaughter) is coming to Nashville in a few months. I’ve had the opportunity to talk with my favorite authors, interact, express my appreciation for their work, even meet their editors, the men and women behind the men and women. I’ve had the opportunity to see good friends again at these events, make new ones, and in general, reaffirm my path. Heady stuff, I tell you.

But I felt truly blessed to tell the man who is the reason I’m here today that he had a profound influence on me. It was one of the coolest moments I’ve had thus far, in a long line of exceptionally cool moments.

Here’s the thing. You don’t have to be a writer to meet your literary heroes. As readers, we can meet them. We can write to them (see Pari’s excellent column on that here.) We can interact in a whole new way because of the websites and message boards. I know I’m not the only one who gets excited about meeting authors. I’d love to see more people participate in our community.

We’ve had a record week at Murderati, full of highs and lows, from Toni’s wonderful post on Mother’s Day to our sad news about Ken’s departure, from Zoe’s word play to Rob’s poignant tribute to his dad.  You, the reader, have made this worthwhile for all of us.

So… today’s question, which shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. Who is your literary hero? And did you ever have a chance to meet him or her?

With a big hat tip to Dan Hale for today’s column — Dan and I were talking about meeting heroes, and he introduced me to one of mine in New York… so thanks, Dan!

Wine of the Week: 2006 Finca Vieja Tempranillio — La Mancha, Spain. Plummy, easy-going and very young.

P.S. I’m leading a reading group discussion about ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS at Shelfari’s Suspense and Thriller group. Please come by and join in the fun – these reader opinions fascinate me!

by J.T. Ellison

Many of our topics revolve around the strength of our characters. We talk about the things that give characters the ability to persevere, to walk in the face of danger, to throw caution to the wind, to put other’s lives and freedoms before their own. These are all wonderful, admirable traits, and we all want our characters to have that selflessness.

But what really gives us a window into our character’s souls is what makes them weak.

One of my favorite "get to know you" questions I ask my characters when they’re in development is "What is your greatest shame?" I think we all have a secret or two that we’d like to keep to ourselves. It doesn’t mean it’s necessarily bad or evil, just something that we don’t want discussed at dinner. I want my characters to have those little secrets, the private motivations for their actions and the impetus for their personalities. Many times these background issues don’t make it onto the page in any discernible way. They are, for me, for my motivation.

There are many, many ways to show a character’s weakness. We fall back on the time honored ISSUE, addiction, all the time. Characters drink too much, drug too much, sleep around, smoke. These frailties sometimes border on cliché, and sometimes are done so seamlessly, so effectively that you notice only the character, not their weakness. For me though, it’s much more fun to look for the motivation, search out the underlying weakness, than be told.

There is a difference between a weakness and something that makes you weak. I was watching an episode of CSI where the storyline revolved around the fact that the entire team had the flu. Everyone sneezed, coughed and successfully looked bedraggled and miserable, to the point where I was thinking, okay, already, we get it. They are sick. Grissom is too important to allowed to stay home when he has walking pneumonia. Move along…

I remember a particular conversion on DorothyL a few years back, where one reader/reviewer adamantly refused to review a book where a character was sick. I’d never thought about it being an issue. When he made a fuss about it, I stepped back and took a look at what I was doing.

When I first started writing, Taylor wasn’t alive. She was strong, she was tough, she didn’t have any weaknesses or issues, nothing could stop her. And she was B.O.R.I.N.G. I didn’t want her to be an alcoholic, or have abuse in her past. She smoked, and that’s a weakness, but it wasn’t the right kind of weakness. I wanted her to be strong and unstoppable. I wanted her to be invincible. Goddesses of War don’t get caught up in impulse behavior.

But she needed something to make her relatable. So I gave her a cold.

And then DorothyL made it abundantly clear that having your main character sick is a no-no.

I thought it was humanizing. They thought it was annoying as hell, having to hear the sniffles and coughs and see the dirty tissues. I quickly realized they were right. Despite the reality that is Nashville, where 90% of the populace wanders about with red noses and thick voices from April to September, it wasn’t a good weakness to foist on my girl. She doesn’t need a physical weakness to make her real. Though I still catch myself giving her headaches a lot — which I take out in revisions. When Taylor is in a situation and starts rubbing her temples, I look closer at why she’s reacting that way so I can have something more illuminating in its place. It’s a shortcut, I’ve come to realize, to rely on an outside factor to show vulnerability.

So what to do?? How could I make her strong without being strident, fearless without being reckless, selfless without looking for congratulations, vulnerable without being weak? In other words, a living, breathing character?

Good question.

One I’m still working on. I trend toward showing Taylor’s weaknesses by hurting the people around her, forcing her to react.  It wasn’t until the third book that I hurt her directly, and by that time, she was primed and ready to fall apart. Did I allow her to? Well, I can’t give that away. But it is fun, in a sick, twisted way, to manipulate the emotions and feelings of imaginary people. I was never one for tearing the legs and wings off insects, but I like exploring my character’s darkness.

Physical and emotional weaknesses are tricky. Physical challenges — wheelchairs, stature etc. are obvious and hard to pull off. A detective in a wheelchair can’t exactly run down a suspect. A little person would be hard-pressed to tackle a six-foot three addict. But honestly, could a character with a cold do it either? As I write this, I’ve got a wicked, nasty SOMETHING. If someone were to break into my house right now and demand the goods, I’d just sneeze and wave them upstairs. There are definitely limitations when you have a sick character.

But emotionally sick characters are fascinating. Look at Dexter. We ALL love Dexter. And he’s a crazy serial killer who technically justifies his actions by following a code of ethics. But he is still a serial killer, who gets pleasure out of killing other people. Yet we root for him. I root for him. I even find myself strangely attracted to the character, which must signal something is very wrong in my head, or the author has done an utterly brilliant job of evoking emotion from me, the reader.

So here’s today’s questions. Where should we draw the line with our character’s weaknesses? When do you, the reader, throw up your hands at the overuse of addiction as a weakness? And who do you think pulls it off best?

Wine of the Week: 2004 Marchesi di Barolo Maraia Barbera Monferrato Soft and spectacular.

by J.T. Ellison

I’m in New York today, running around being a tourist post-Edgars. Since this was also my birthday week, I’m taking the shortcut of posting a piece I wrote for a magazine called The Verb. I hope you’ll forgive me for not checking in until later — but check in I will. Happy Friday!

It’s beneficial for a writer to be asked this question every
once in a while. Metaphor aside, the place where we create is vital to our
productivity.

I have two desks. One is upstairs in my home, in a bedroom
converted to an office. It’s a funny little room, a connector into the bonus
room over the garage. It’s got awkward angles, but a nice big window which
looks out onto the river birch. The tree is big enough that it blocks out
everything else, but that’s fine. In the winter, it’s not much fun, but in the
summer, the cardinals live in the tree, and at 5:00 each evening, they have a
cocktail party. Apparently it’s open invitation, because all the cardinals from
the neighborhood, the surrounding neighborhoods, probably the state congregate
in the tree, jostling for space on the branches. They are gossips and scolds,
and have a merry old time of it. When I worked in my office full time, the
cardinal cocktail hour was my signal to start wrapping up for the day.

My space upstairs has
evolved into more of a business office than a creative space. When I first
started writing, I was working on a tiny computer table. The keyboard tray was
so small the mouse wouldn’t fit, so I developed shoulder issues from the
constant up and down movement. When I started my second book, I decided Enough!
We bought lovely furniture to replace the tiny desk. The pieces fit snugly into
the corner (I’m a big fan of angled placement) with a desk to the right which holds
my printer and files, and a bookshelf to the left. The desks are two-tiered,
with cavernous hutches that are loaded with books, magazines, files and knick
knacks, including my precious Ted the Bear from Harrods. He’s there to bring me
international flair.

The top two shelves of the bookcase to the left hold my
favorite titles – LOLITA, ANTHEM, WUTHERING HEIGHTS, all my Austens, Hemingway,
Dickens, Conrad, Norton Anthologies and Greek Mythology texts. My shelves of
Classics. Most are the books I read in school and thought were fabulous enough
to keep. Which was pretty much all of them.

The center desk has my computer screen, a full sized rip-off
desk calendar, a small desk calendar called “The Year In Space” which has so
many cool photos of distant galaxies and stars that if you’re stuck, a quick
glance will humble you. I like to be reminded that while I’m struggling, there
are things that are much more important happening. There’s a black rubber,
bendable string cat that I’ve had since I was ten, and a green-faced Wicked
Witch pencil topper. Next to those childhood trophies is a small golden clock
that was a gift from the Secretary of Commerce. Tons of paperclips in magnetic
holders, post-it notes and separate containers for pens and pencils finish out
that section. There’s also a fantastic Mexican ceramic tissue box cover, the
cords to my iPod, the envelope that stores all my business receipts, speakers,
and the box that holds my special embossed cards for thank you notes. Along the
top, front and center, are my special books: the ones I’ve gotten signed by
authors I love, and my first run Harry Potters. Friends get co-op space too, so
the first thing you see when you walk in is their current title. A POISONED
SEASON by Tasha Alexander is at the forefront right now. As you can tell, I
love having everything in its proper space.

On the shelf to the right is a framed print of a Chinese
character from the I Ching called CHAOS. The small print below says “Before
the beginning of great brilliance, there must be Chaos. Before a brilliant
person begins something great, they must look foolish to the crowd.”

I love that sentiment. It’s how I approach my work, and my
life. Chaos equals risk in my mind. If my life is organized, it leaves plenty
of room for my mind to be chaotic, and as such, my work to push the edge.

My big black leather chair swivels, and to the left of the
window is another chair, cushy and comfortable, a table with a lamp, a white
board for plotting and a corkboard. All
my conference and self-congratulatory detritus, book covers, important emails
and notes go onto the corkboard. There’s another sign on the table, this one
stone. It says, “Don’t Piss Off The Fairies.” Amen to that. Without the magic
sprinkles of fairy dust, where would we be?

But I spend my creative time downstairs, in my black leather
recliner. The windows have a view of the street, I can distract myself with the
neighbor’s comings and goings. The cat sleeps on the bench to the left of the
window on a large red plaid flannel, snoring and twitching her way through my
day. There’s a slate table to my left that holds my drink, the phone (whose
ringer is off,) an Italian pottery catch all for pens, and a basket below for “stuff.”
A magazine rack to the right handles my notepads and current files.

I sit in this chair with my laptop on my lap and write.
After all the care and feeding I put into creating the perfect office upstairs,
my lap has become my desk.

So what’s on your desk???

Wine of the Week: From a pre-birthday dinner this week, a fabulous and surprisingly affordable bottle. 

2002 Terre dei Volsci Velletri Riserva 

Be sure to let it breathe for about fifteen minutes before you try it. Nice and dry with a beautiful finish.

————

This essay first appeared in  The Verb in February 2008, a very cool ezine. I asked for and received permission to post it here.