by JT Ellison                                           

My
guest today needs little introduction. MJ Rose has become an icon in the
publishing world, a true success story, starting with her first novel, LIP SERVICE, which
she self-published as an experiment, to her ninth, the amazing and complex THE
REINCARNATIONIST.

I
found it difficult to be objective in this interview – MJ has been more than
just a writer to look up to in the past year – she’s given advice and solace,
inspired me to work harder and learn the business, gave me insights into how to become a more disciplined, has shown me how to celebrate
being a writer and reap the rewards when a satisfactory goal is met. There’s a
word for people like this, the ones who profoundly affect your life. Mentor,
advisor, teacher – all these words come to mind when I think of MJ. Most of
all, I’m honored to call her my friend.

So
sit back, glean, enjoy, and learn. For those are the gifts MJ gives us every
time she writes a single word.

————————

Thank you for taking
time out of your insanely busy schedule to talk to us!

ITW
(international Thriller Writers) has been a shining beacon for both the most
established bestsellers AND for new authors with no track record. What do you
think is the common denominator?

ITW
had two goals when it began that were slightly different than the goals of
other writers organizations: to help
raise the level of awareness of the genre and to find a way to help get books
in front of readers even if it meant creating those ways. That made us outer
directed. We weren’t just saying join ITW. We were saying join ITW and let’s
attack the problems we’re facing as authors and try to do something about them.

That
gives us a common ground whether we’re starting out or high up on the ladder
because even the most successful author among us has to take on a lot himself…
or herself… just ask James Patterson.

You’ve been an
inspiration to all us this year. You are a writer, a marketer, an all-around
business guru, a friend and a mentor. HOW in the world do you fit everything
in?

 Thank
you, I’m flattered. I just got asked that in an interview that’s posted at
January Magazine.
The answer is I don’t. This last year I took on a bit too much and found I gave
up almost all my free time. My work didn’t suffer but I fell behind in movies,
art galleries, museum exhibits, dinners with friends. I don’t sleep a lot, I don’t
have kids, and I love to work, but still… this was one crazy year.

I’m
working at balancing things better now that ThrillerFest is over. I’m staying
on the board of ITW for another year but the amazing Jon Land has taken over as
head of the marketing committee and I feel like I can breathe again.

Many new authors are
getting small advances. What’s the most important marketing aspect for a debut
who is looking for bang for the buck — website, advertising, book tour?

For
a debut my advice is learn as much as you can about the business of being
published. Then keep your day job – or get one – and spend as much as you can
on marketing your book.

But
don’t do it alone.

Sit
down with your publisher – specifically ask your editor for a meeting with him/her
and the marketing and pr people. Be a grown up, tell them in the meeting you’re
a realist, you know not every book can get everything… but they have 100 books
coming out and you only have one and you need to do everything you can to
ensure that one succeeds. To do that you need their honesty.

What
are they doing for your book? What aren’t they doing? What can you do? Can you
work as a partner? What don’t they want you to do?

If
you do this right, they will be thrilled to have you as an author and they will
give you an idea of what they’re doing and what you need to do.

In
terms of money: the website should be simple and inexpensive. Readers don’t go
searching for websites for authors they never heard of anyway. You need a
website like you need a business card. But no one buys a book because of a fancy website.

A
tour is great if… and there are a lot of ifs.

You
don’t just want to fly around the country and show up at bookstores, sign some
copies, and fly out again. It’s cost prohibitive.

The
goal is to go to bookstores in cities where you can get media coverage. You
can’t get an article in the LA Times if you are a New Yorker staying home in
NYC. But if you are going to be on tour
at Dutton’s and you have a good publicist who has a great pitch, you might be
able to get in the LAT.

Ideally,
a ten city tour with ten bookstores would include ten TV shows and ten radio
shows and some book reviews in those local cities and stock signings that would
get autographed copies of books on the front tables.

But
very few debuts get that kind of tour. Or anyone else for that matter except
for the mega sellers.

But
you can get a few cities like that if you work it right with the right people
helping.

Another
kind of tour that works well is the mystery bookstore tour. Get to as many as
you can, get to know the owners of the stores. Most of them have newsletters or
write reviews. A lot of these folks can help more than anyone else in the biz
to get your career started.

Then
there’s the driving tour you do on your own. Get in the car and meet as many
booksellers of all kinds as you can and sign as much stock as you can. That can
work too, if you’re the kind of person to charm and engage.

But
I’d never spend all my money on a tour and not do any marketing.

The
problem is it takes more than 12 times for someone to see the name of your book
or your name before they remember it. So you have to do a lot of things – some
in person, some on line, some off line – before you even start to get any name
recognition.

No
one thing works when it comes to selling books. Reviews, interviews, websites,
ads, pr, TV, radio, magazines, appearances… they all work, but it’s better all
together.

That’s
why it’s so damn hard.

You’ve been getting
amazing reviews and press coverage for THE REINCARNATIONIST, it seems to be the
ultimate break-out novel. What did you do to make this happen? How much of your
publicity campaign is from you, and how much is from Mira?

I
have a wonderful relationship with my publisher. We’re definitely partners in
this. They knew who I was when they bought The Halo Effect in 2003 (the first
book of mine they published) and have been great to work with ever since. This is unusual, but it’s also unusual that
before I was an author I was the creative director of a top NYC ad agency, and
that since ‘99 I’ve been creating some solid marketing solutions for authors
and publishers.

I’m
very grateful they treat me the way they do and I’m very proud to be published
by a group of people who care so much about what they do and have put so much
faith in my book.

As
for who did what, we did a lot together like the TV commercial that’s been
running. For the price of a 1/4 page ad in a national newspaper, I produced the
spot (co-written with Chris Grabenstien and produced by Expandedbooks.com) and
Mira bought the media and ran the spot on national TV, reaching over 2 million
people in the exact targeted audience we thought would be interested in the
book.

You
can see the commercial and read all about that at my blog – Buzz, Balls and
Hype.

As
for what I did on my own – I’ve used every single service that I sell through
AuthorBuzz.com (my marketing company) for this book plus have done a few new
ones that if they work will be part of AuthorBuzz.com next year.

Where did Josh Ryder
come from? Do you like writing in the male POV?

Josh
was born in New York City – his father was a photographer and his mother was — but
you don’t mean that do you?

When
I first thought about writing this book the main character was an entirely
different person. As I started doing the research and thinking about the book
the original character started to morph. I don’t remember when exactly he stopped being the other person and
became Josh.

And
I loved writing from this very different point of view. It was a great change
for me and a great challenge.

Reincarnation is a
fascinating theme. You’ve talked about your past having glimpses of the
possibility of reincarnation. If you were to forecast a future you, what do you
think you’d be like?

I
think I’d like to be pretty much who I am except more inclined to go to the
gym…

What inspired you to
put your successful Dr. Morgan Snow series on hold to do something new? And is
it on hold? Do you plan on returning to Morgan? 

It’s
on hold. And I want to return to Morgan. I have a contract for three more… but
I’m not sure when I’m going to go back to them. 

For
those who don’t know, Dr. Morgan Snow is a NYC sex therapist and the books are
psychological suspense. Very gritty. I
wrote three books in that series and each of them required extensive research,
a lot of which haunted me. But the most disturbing was the third, The Venus
Fix. I worked with a lot of teenage boys who were addicted to internet porn and
the girls who interacted with them and it was heartbreaking. 

I
wanted to take a break after Venus and wanted to write something else. So the
idea was I’d do two books a year. One Morgan – in paperback – and one in this
new reincarnation series – in hardcover. And then I started writing the
Reincarnationist and realized that it was a crazy idea.

I’m not a fast writer to begin with and the
historical research I needed to do for this new series was very time consuming. As it turned out, the
Reincarnation took almost two years to write.

It
was time to take a break. 

If you had a full day
off, with no deadlines, no expectations, no interviews or commitments, what
would you do?

Do
I get to magically wake up somewhere and get that day? I’ll assume yes. Paris.
Get up early. Go swimming at the Ritz hotel. Then go shopping on the left bank all morning. (I assume on this day my
wallet is constantly replenished.) With lots of shopping bags in tow, I’d meet
my husband for lunch — sitting outside at Café Deux Magots. We’d spend the
afternoon at a museum, whichever has the exhibition I’m most anxious to see.
Winding up at Café Palette at five we’d have a glass of wine and then wander
into the wonderful art galleries there. Later we’d have dinner at Chez L’Ami
Louis and then take an endlessly long and magical walk by the Seine watching
the city of lights reflecting in the river.

What an amazing day!

MJ, we know how busy
you are. Thank you for taking the time to answer these questions, and for
always being the most graceful and gracious author we know. And if you missed my post at Killer Year Wednesday about seeing MJ’s review in People Magazine, click on over here and read it.

 
Wine of the Week:  Wink, wink, nudge, nudge…

Angoves Nine Vines Rose 2007

.

JT Ellison

It’s the beginning of a new year.

I’ve always used September as my start.

by JT Ellison

Let’s talk about sex.

Face it, writing an effective sex scene takes talent. There is no more common denominator in life. Sex literally makes the world go round. Every single person on the planet is the product of a sexual liaison. Most of us pursue coupling with unflagging enthusiasm. In our society, sex is at the same time revered and venerated, feared and glorified, used for power and influence, celebration and procreation. We as writers must tackle the subject, and we do so in wildly diverse ways. On screen, off screen, doors opened and closed, implied and flagrant. So why is writing a sex scene so damn difficult?

My theory is we are so close to our characters, and sex is such an intensely personal act, that dropping your thoughts, fantasies, experiences onto the page can be either painful or liberating, or both. There’s a huge contingent of erotic writers who capitalize on their imaginations for the pleasure of their reading public, and I say more power to them. Romantic suspense has a massive following, both for the intensity of the stories and the disbelief suspending romanticism that finds women in heightened situations with mind-bogglingly handsome men who in turn rescue, reward and pleasure the oftentimes repressed, depressed and feminist heroines. Pure romance, well, that speaks for itself. Who among us doesn’t want to have the dark stranger ride in on his white horse and sweep us off our feet?

But what about the darker side of life. How does sex fit into mysteries and thrillers?

Sexual tension is a brilliant device for both examining internal fortitude and driving the story along. The act of sex on
the page is an immediate and unflinching psychological examination
a character. Are they loose? Fast? Impotent? Frigid? A serial
monogamist? A one off slut? Happily married and desperate to get back to their spouse and kids? Literary fiction often covers this territory and the minefields therein, utilizing weeks and years to uncover the motivations behind their character’s sexual relationships. But when you’re writing a book that takes place in a twenty-four hour time frame, the character’s actions are paramount. It’s difficult to examine life’s biggest driving force when the world is about to end, and we genre writers find ways to, ahem, do it.

Sex and the mystery is the topic of many a panel discussion. There’s no shortage of lust just because things aren’t going so well. It’s the sex after the funeral phenomenon; we all know that when the going gets tough, the tough go to bed. It’s the variety of manners in which we handle these scenes that interest me so much. When a writers decides to open the bedroom (bar room, bathroom, kitchen floor) door, a reader can be shocked by the proclivities and neuroses of a protagonist, cheer their prowess, boo their selfishness. Notwithstanding the act itself, finding deeper understanding of a character’s motivation is rarely laid so bare. The fragility, humanity, or pure assholeness of a lead can be fully examined if they are naked. 

For me, writing a series with two characters who are in love AND face life threatening situations on a daily basis, finding a happy medium is difficult at best. I think it strains the credibility of my characters lives to have them drop trou in the midst of a murder investigation. Just imagine Taylor and Baldwin walking away from a particularly horrific crime scene: "You know babe, there was something about that girl with her throat cut that made me incredibly horny." I don’t think so. If anything, the last thing they’d want to do is have sex, even the life-affirming kind that we mere mortals might succumb to.

Yet when you have two extremely attractive people who are a couple, who banter, flirt, drink, despair, want, and sometimes even act quite inappropriately, and there isn’t even an allusion to sex, the reader feels shortchanged. It’s like handing the reader the keys to the kingdom and then saying, sorry, the moat is clogged up and we won’t be re-opening until 6:00 p.m. tomorrow.

No matter what, I refuse to have sex be a gratuitous tool, something to just fill space. I don’t have a sex scene in my first book, I do in my second. The reason I waited was twofold: I wanted the readers to know Taylor and Baldwin without the specter of what they do in their bedroom before I jumped into the deep end. They are definitely together, certainly sexual creatures, but there is a delicious irony to the fact that they aren’t hopping in the sack every chance they get. Actually, they suffer from pre-coitus interruptus, are stymied by events and don’t have another chance because they are professionals doing their jobs.

By the second book, the tension has grown, and when it does finally culminate in a physical scene it’s so fitting to the story that if they didn’t do it, the reader would be shaking their head and saying "huh?" It was the first on screen sex scene I’ve ever written, and I had so much fun working that scene that I wonder why I never tried before. It’s a perfect allegory for the story, rough and intimate and . . . vertical. Nothing can ever be easy for my characters, so why would I give them candles and silk sheets?

I’m not saying one way or the other is better. I just do my best to be true to my darlings.

Unfortunately, the sexual revolution hasn’t entirely conquered fiction. The male protagonists are practically encouraged to plow a swath through their female compatriots, but we women have to be more careful, making sure that the sex is meaningful and preferably within the confines of a relationship, or two. If there’s a female lead who unabashedly screws her way through a book and isn’t labeled, I don’t know of her. But I’d like to shake her hand.

To that end, there are definitely characters I want to see bed their co-stars. Reacher and Rain? I mean, come on. Lee Child and Barry Eisler both deserve academy awards for their ability to, um, evoke a moment. 

So let’s get down and dirty, Murderati style. My question for you… who is your favorite genre sex scene writer, and what’s the best sex scene you’ve ever read?

Wine of the Week:

Should we eschew the wine this week and go straight for the Courvoisier??? No? Okay then, let’s do something decadent, rich and decidedly sexy. We’ll go to the makers of an old favorite of mine, Grand Marnier, and travel to Chile, a dark and devilishly diverse land with handsome purveyors of fine wine. This one has been described as voluptuous and silky, fitting for today.

Casa Lapostolle "Clos Apalta" 2001

(Thanks to the Bloodhound Gang — their very naughty song THE BAD TOUCH inspired this week’s title!)

by JT Ellison

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.

How many stars there are.

I gaze at the night sky, inky black, a cool breeze ruffling my newly cut hair. It rained early in the evening so the air is musty, carbon-tinged. There’s Venus, Mars, the Big Dipper. The swath of wispy clouds that are really millions of stars coupled together to form our Milky Way shines with a luminosity only seen at altitude. I stand, leaning, swaying in an attempt to crane my neck backwards to see them all, these pinpricks of life. There is comfort, knowledge that somewhere else, a woman like me stares at the quickening night and sighs in time with the wind.

I got off the plane knowing a week of unassailable memories waited for me. I’d like to live here, but the constant reminders, the landscape changed yet exactly the same, the recognition would overwhelm me. The
five senses are magnified when married to nostalgia and regret. If I moved back, I’d have to go North, into the leeward mountains, or directly west, climbing until my heart raced and my breath caught in my throat. Find a new place among the familiar, with fauna for neighbors. And the scent of pine would drift through the walls of my dwelling.

A shadowy deer stands twenty feet away, being. She sniffs the air, stares at me in frank curiosity and I wonder what she’s thinking. Where to drop the late season bambi she’s carrying in her prodigious belly? Her time is near, her legs are braced in pain. The moon has risen, I can see the shivers of contractions shimmering along her flank. We are in a standoff. I sense she wants me to stay, so I wait, patiently, for her to decide. At last she nods and disappears into the brush to do her job. Loss, pain, joy — all collide in my chest. I miss her already.

I feel transparent here.
I don’t know who to be here.

A quote from Victor Hugo drifts into my mind.

Be as a bird on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her,
Still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.

Am I that bird? Or am I the frail branch, bending under the weight of a beautiful stranger?

                                                       #

When you wish upon a star,
Makes no difference who you are,
Anything your heart desires,
Will come to you.

It is a new day. The shockingly clear sky looks like azure paint swiped across a snow white canvas, the exact shade of blue of my husband’s eyes. I sit in the silence, reading, watching the animals. Within hours, billowy storm clouds begin to creep over the vista, blotting out the sky until all that’s left of color is a patch here and there, like he’s winking at me. I miss him.

The sky becomes a deep gray, matching the moods of two families nearby. Death has been visiting, stealing away their loved ones, people I knew. Their sadness, my sadness, is echoed in the approaching tumult.

The storm will rock the house, howl and tear, plead and bribe, beg and bully in its attempts to come indoors. The wind will whisper seductive promises against the new windows. I will not give it the pleasure. I have enough storms right now.

In the wake of the short-lived tempest, another sparkling clear night. I stand and wish upon my star, my star light, my star bright, my first star of the night. I am making more wishes than usual these days. I guess that’s natural. The unknown stretches before me.

Wine of the Week — We need a soothing selection. This wine was discovered by Murderati reader Mary-Frances Makichen, who was so incredibly kind to suggest a couple of her favorites to me.

R Stuart Big Fire Pinot Noir

by JT Ellison

cre·a·tiv·i·ty     /ˌkrieɪˈtɪvɪti, ˌkriə-/ Pronunciation Key – Show Spelled Pronunciation[kree-ey-tiv-i-tee, kree-uh–] -Noun

1. the state of quality of being creative

2. the ability to transcend traditional ideas, rules, patterns, relationships, or the like, and to create meaningful new ideas, forms, methods, interpretations, etc.; originality, progressiveness, or imagination: the need for creativity in modern industry; creativity in the performing arts

3. the process by which one utilizes creative ability: Extensive reading stimulated his creativityPronunciation

 

---

[Origin: 1870–75; creative + -ity]

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)

What better way to erase the wistful week in Colorado than a celebration of sorts. Life is good. We’re 3 1/2 weeks post-surgery, Mr. Wrist is healing nicely (though I’m stuck in this crazy halfway to my shoulder arm bent at a 45 degree angle contraption for another 2 weeks), I’ve relearned how to type, and I have a new toy. I bought a Sony Vaio out in Colorado, and boy, am I impressed. Vista works smoothly and is so similar to a friend’s cool new Mac that I don’t feel shortchanged, the Word 2007 package is totally cool, I’ve moved all my documents over from the sick laptop and sent it off to be fixed. There’s just one little nagging question.

Will I be able to create in this new world?

I didn’t plan to buy a new laptop just yet. I wasn’t emotionally prepared (I’m a classic Taurus, I loathe change for change’s sake.) My old Dell has worked fine. After a small existential fight, I actually made the transition from desktop to laptop, and wrote all but the last four chapters of my new book on the Dell. Then it decided to up and drop the soldered lead from the power jack to the motherboard, and bam, no more laptop. Now, timing is everything, right? So happens that the day after the
laptop heaved it’s last, lonely breath, I had the surgery. I couldn’t
type for a week, then started back one handed. I’d scheduled this to
coincide with a planned break from the manuscript, with every good intention to get it
done before they cut me open.

But the creative Gods conspired against
me and left me four measly chapters short. Then I went to my parents.
Now I’m home with this shiny, happy new baby in tow, which means I can’t finish the book where I started it. For the past five months, I’ve been parked in my favorite recliner, the soft leather warm and inviting, pecking away on my ancient Dell. I’ve done everything on this book in my living room, instead of sitting in my office, which was a massive transition.

I’ve spent the past few days transferring files, learning new software, playing around with different styles and colors (man, the desktop and screensaver choices are dynamite, and for a girl who takes great stock in images, that’s a good thing.) As far as ease of use, this thing smokes the old one.

I need to spend this week getting JUDAS KISS finished. I’m not procrastinating; I’ll get up first thing Monday, grab a Starbucks, plop into my chair and write the end. But I am curious. Will I be able to work as well with this new tool? Was the old cranky laptop a muse? (All my computers are named MUSE, by the way, just for the added inspiration.)

The question is, does it matter? Where does creativity stem from? Do the tools have anything to do with it? The setting you’re writing in? I know the question has been asked a million times, the coffee shop versus home office debate. What I’m talking about is changing your method in the middle of the game.

John Connolly got me thinking about this in his latest blog entry. Do our environs really play into our creativity? If we’re truly writers, does music or no music, laptop or desktop, office or coffee shop actually have any bearing? Are these just excuses we lob when we’re having a hard time thinking through a plot device, or a character isn’t singing for us?

So here’s a question for you. Where do you work, and how do you think you’d do if your cozy habitat was taken from you?

Wine of the Week: Michele Chiarlo Barolo Tortoniano, 2000, drunk with new friends in celebration of my father’s birthday at a phenomenal restaurant in Colorado named Gabriel’s. Highly recommended, we had three bottles of the stuff and it was all brilliant. I believe I’m on a nebbliolo grape kick again…

———————————

Robin Burcell will be my guest next week, and her essay is moving and exceptional. Please stop by and say hello. I’ll be back September 7th. Thank you for being so patient with me! 

———————————-

Also, for our Sisters In Crime readers and anyone else who might find it interesting… Trust me, this is going to be a good time. Great panels, huge authors. Big audience for writers too, 30,000 plus, so if you’re a SinC member and interested, contact J.B. Thompson at the address below.

SinC-Middle Tennessee at Southern Festival of Books

The Southern Festival of Books is a free, three-day book festival held in
alternating years between Nashville and Memphis, Tennessee and is attended by
thousands of book lovers from all over the country each year. For more
information, see the Festival’s
web site.

Contact SinC-MidTN chapter president J.B. Thompson to request a signing time
slot assignment and for additional information regarding book sale arrangements.
SinC authors who are unable to appear in person are invited to send bookmarks,
postcards, or other promotional materials for distribution to Festival attendees
(limit 100 pieces).

By JT Ellison

Thanks, Carly, for that little trip down memory lane. I never know which I think about first, Carly Simon or ketchup, but by God, I remember the words of the song, and the feelings it evokes. Very nice job of branding, that.

So. Anticipation. Great word, huh? Nothing quite like it really. It’s one of those terms that means the same thing to every person who read it. And I love the anticipation of reading a book from my favorite authors. In my mind, having something to look forward to is one of the best parts of reading.

But when it’s one of my literary gods, I’ve got strange habits.

Child, Sandford, Connolly, Slaughter, Gerritsen, Eisler — when one of those authors has a book coming out, you better well believe I’m marking the calendar, counting down to the on-sale date. And in the interest of helping the numbers, I don’t pre-order the books. I want to know that perhaps, in some small, infinitesimal way, my buying the book during the actual release week may be the sale that puts them on the bestseller list.   

With the title bought and taken home to be revered for a few hours, I find myself stalling. I want to read the book. I NEED to read the book. I open the pages and gaze, unseeing, at the print. But something in me just doesn’t want to. Not yet. I put the book on the bookshelf by my chair where I can see it. I tease myself, sometimes for weeks. Knowing that I have this treasure so close builds the anticipation to a fever pitch.

I avoid any and all reviews of my gods’ books, too. I can’t be bothered with what other people think, I need to make up my own mind. Does it stand up to the series? Did the character do what I expected? Is the writing to par? Am I still going to love them as much as I have in the past???

I sit, and I watch the book. I admire the cover. I wonder about what’s inside. And finally, with great reluctance, I clear my schedule, get the book off the shelf, and start. I’ve yet to be disappointed.

But a new horror entered my exquisite self-torture this week. Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows has been one of the most anticipated books for me this year, as well as millions upon millions of others. For the week before the release, I left the Internet behind, ignored the news, sang loudly at the top of my lungs any time the subject came up. I refused to have this book ruined for me.

I was successful, if you can believe it. Despite ridicule at my extreme measures, friends who dangled tidbits, waiting to see if I’d take the bait, the book arrived Saturday, pristine and, thankfully, with the story unspoiled. I opened the box, gazed longingly at the book, and . . . set it aside.  Somehow, it sat for a full thirty-six hours before I felt sufficiently prepared to experience the final episode in this amazing series. I took Monday off — didn’t answer the phone, left my email alone, and read. I wasn’t disappointed.

I’d like to salute J.K. Rowling. "Bah!" to the naysayers. This woman has single-handedly changed the lives of millions of children, giving them the most wondrous gift of all — a love of reading. And for the adults she’s affected so spectacularly, like me, if I ever have a child of my own, I will be honored to share and experience Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, Sirius, et. al.  anew.

So tell me. Who do you anticipate the most???

Wine of the Week: 2004 Sutcliffe Ddraig Goch — A Colorado red named for a Welsh dragon.

P.S. I will be off for the next two weeks getting my stupid wrist fixed up. Our intrepid guest blogger, Toni McGee Causey, will be subbing for me while I’m away. Treat her well!

HUGE congratulations to our Murderati brethren nominated for an Anthony!!!

It’s humbling to work with such talent! Good luck to all of you, and all the nominees.

ANTHONY NOMINATIONS, Bouchercon 2007

BEST NOVEL:

ALL MORTAL FLESH, Julia Spencer-Fleming, St. Martins
THE DEAD HOUR, Denise Mina, Little Brown & Co.
KIDNAPPED, Jan Burke, Simon & Schuster
NO GOOD DEEDS, Laura Lippman, Harper
THE VIRGIN OF SMALL PLAINS, Nancy Pickard, Ballantine

BEST FIRST NOVEL

A FIELD OF DARKNESS, Cornelia Read, Mysterious Press
THE HARROWING, Alexandra Sokoloff, St. Martin’s
HOLMES ON THE RANGE, Steve Hockensmith, St. Martins
THE KING OF LIES, John Hart, St. Martin’s
STILL LIFE, Louise Penny, St. Martin’s

BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL

ASHES AND BONES, Dana Cameron, Avon
BABY SHARK, Robert Fate, Capital Crime Press
THE CLEANUP, Sean Doolittle, Dell
A DANGEROUS MAN, Charlie Huston, Ballantine
47 RULES OF HIGHLY EFFECTIVE BANK ROBBERS, Troy Cook, Capital Crime Press
SHOTGUN OPERA, Victor Gischler, Dell
SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN, Naomi Hirahara, Bantam Dell – Delta

BEST SHORT STORY

"After the Fall," Elaine Viets, Alfred Hitchcock Mag
"Cranked" Bill Crider, DAMN NEAR DEAD, Busted Flush Press
"The Lords of Misrule" Dana Cameron, SUGARPLUMS AND SCANDAL, Avon
"My Father’s Secret," Simon Wood, Crime Spree Magazine, Bcon Spec Issue ’06
"Policy" Megan Abbott, DAMN NEAR DEAD, Busted Flush Press
"Sleeping with the Plush" Toni Kelner, Alfred Hitchcock Mag

BEST CRITICAL NONFICTION

THE BEAUTIFUL CIGAR GIRL, Daniel Stashower, Dutton
DON’T MURDER YOUR MYSTERY, Chris Roerden, Bella Rosa Books
MYSTERY MUSES, Jim Huang/Austin Lugar, Editors, Crum Creek Press
READ ‘EM THEIR WRITES, Gary Warren Niebuhr, Libraries Unlimited
THE SCIENCE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, E.J. Wagoner, John Wiley & Sons

SPECIAL SERVICES AWARD

Charles Ardal, Hard Case Crime
George Easter, Deadly Pleasures
Franchi & Sharon Wheeler, reviewingtheevidence.com
Jim Huang, Crum Creek Press and The Mystery Company
Jon & Ruth Jordan, CrimeSpree Magazine
Ali Karim, Shots Magazine
Lynn Kazmarik & Chris Aldrich, Mystery News
Maddy Van Hertbruggen, 4 Mystery Addicts

There have been many roundups of the past weekend’s festivities in New York, so I’m not going to rehash the event. It was all that, and then some, let me assure you.

Instead, I’m going to wax poetic about friends. And Toni Causey is going to give you her feelings.

JT: I was struck by a phenomenon over the weekend. Because of the size of the hotel, the allure of the city, and the panel scheduling, many people found themselves out and about, wandering the halls, slipping into Grand Central to have a bite to eat, running across the street to the fabulous diner that serves brunch all day. And in these broken up groups, a strange thing happened. I’m going to refer to this phenomenon as St. Francis’s Fire.

For those who don’t know, St. Francis is the patron saint of writers and authors. I love how the church makes a distinction, but it’s simply to designate journalists versus book authors. I’ve called on him from time to time to help with blocks, or to say thanks when something goes especially well.

Show of hands, how many of you have seen the movie St. Elmo’s Fire? I saw it Tuesday night, late on TBS, and was struck by the similarities to our group of writers. The allegory fits Killer Year especially. This weekend marked the first time our merry band of debuts were all under the same roof. (We were minus one, but that’s still an accomplishment in this day and age.) As I watched the movie, I was reminded of our past year. In the movie, the characters have all just graduated from Georgetown. Some are finding great success, some are finding it not as easy as they anticipated. A fitting description of what the debut year is like. There are huge highs (starred reviews, second printings, general consensus that the writers will go on to something great) and lows (PR failures, problems with mailing, and yes, even mutterings of favoritism.) But all in all, a success.

Most importantly, we have each other. A cohort group of authors who started together. We were 22 2007 debut authors strong at this conference, 12 of us Killer Year. We were honored at a breakfast on Friday morning, each allocated time, introduced by the ever gracious Lee Child. We know each other. We’ll support each other. But it wasn’t just the debuts.

In New York, Killer Year drifted together. Not surprising, we’re intimates at this point. What I found so wonderful was how many people drifted right along with us. In the bar, in the hallways, there were loads of other writers and readers who stepped in to the flow, got caught up in the camaraderie of the event, smiled and laughed and enjoyed themselves. The future was there, the books that come out in 2008, the writers shopping manuscripts, looking for agents. Old, young, established, debut, reviewers, writers, readers, the media, all worked in harmony. The bar staff, on the other hand, hated us.

I didn’t see the genre specific clans that sometimes pervades these cons. There was a strong feeling of togetherness. In the bar, in the halls, arms were opened, chairs drawn up. Every small group opened to allow more people in. There was a true sense of friendship among all the writers there. St. Francis’s Fire. And that’s what’s going to serve us all well as we combat the perception that crime fiction and thrillers are just junky beach reads. The collective wisdom in the Grand Hyatt was stunning, and New York noticed.

So let’s see what our guest blogger Toni McGee Causey thought.

Toni: There’s something inherently intimidating about walking into any sort of convention where several hundred people are attending and you won’t know if you’ll know anyone or be welcomed. There’s something amazingly comforting to know that you’ve made friends the last time and there will be smiles and recognition and welcome and hugs. The thing I found, though, that set this convention apart from any other I’ve attended was that the "welcoming factor" happened last year, the first time we met in Phoenix, and that warmth and friendliness just seemed to be amplified this year. Old friends (of course) met up and there were some pretty enthusiastic smiles and hugs. But I was also so pleased to see that a tremendous number of people introduced themselves to someone new and I’m so glad to have met so many new people myself. Many pulled back chairs, as J.T. said, finding a way to include anyone who wandered over. All weekend long, there was an attitude of "hey, we’re hanging out, come on over, you’re wanted."

I think it’s the best thing we can do for each other, as authors, this inclusion. I felt like, as a unit, we were recognizing that our competition isn’t each other–it’s apathy and other media options.

We win the battle when we convince people to pick up a book when they’re confronted with so many other choices; we have a real victory if that enthusiasm spreads and more people start turning to books as their first option. I know that having a fun weekend isn’t going to solve the declining readership problem, but I’ll tell you this–I came away from there having met some amazing people and I’ve already been by a Barnes & Noble and have picked up several new-to-me authors that I wouldn’t have known to get. I either heard them speak or heard someone speak highly about their work. I’m the kind of reader who’ll tell people when I’ve loved something… and I know that I’m already looking forward to next year.

Wine of the Week: (Tasted in New York) Caymus Napa Valley Cabernet

Dear Murderati readers:

I am so pleased to have Michelle Gagnon as my guest today. If you haven’t had a chance to meet this engaging new author, I suggest stopping by one of her signings or making a special trip to a conference where she’s appearing. Not only is her work magnificent, her enthusiasm and energy is like a double shot of espresso injected directly into a vein. Michelle is a fellow Mira author, one of the new breed of young thriller writers that make up this year’s list. Her debut, THE TUNNELS, is available now. Without further ado, may I present… Michelle Gagnon!

MISADVENTURES OF A DRIVE-BY SIGNER

Or

MY KINGDOM FOR A GPS

“What
are you doing?”

“Signing.”
I said, raising my pen from the title page.

The
clerk yanked the book away from me, incensed. “Is this a store copy? You’re,
like, going to have to buy this now, you know.”

I
tried not to get defensive, maintaining a sweet tone as I answered, “But I
wrote it. I already have a copy. Several, in fact.”

It was my fifth bookstore of the
day, and in all fairness to the young man standing before me, I probably should
have waited before whipping out my pen. But I was fried. Navigating through a
sea of Massachusetts drivers in ninety degree heat had shot my nerves, and
honestly, not a single store out of the twenty-odd ones I’d visited so far had
said No thank you, we don’t want you to
sign your book. Initially, in fact, it was an extremely pleasant experience.
I got a glimpse of life if not as an A-list, then certainly a C- or D-list
celebrity, the temporary queen of whichever mall I happened to be standing in.
Particularly in my home state, Rhode Island, I was almost always the first
author any of the staff had ever met in person. Some of them bought my book on
the spot so that I could personalize it for them, which was tremendously
validating.

But here, in a suburb of Boston
that shall remain nameless, I was forced by a surly teenager to shell out seven
bucks for my own “defaced” book , then slink back to my sweltering car under
the watchful eyes of mall security.

So goes the “Drive-by Signing
Tour.” It sounds far more glamorous than it is, the words “drive-by” adding a
hint of danger to an otherwise mundane experience. On a drive-by signing tour
you hit as many bookstores as possible in one day, signing every copy of your
book in range. Feeling inspired by J.A. Konrath’s marketing tips blog (which is
chock full of good advice,) I outlined a fairly ambitious schedule for myself.
On the East Coast, I’d hit all the bookstores in Manhattan and Rhode Island, and
as many as possible in Boston and its environs. Then once I returned to
California, I’d divide a regional map into sectors, and would target a sector a
day until I’d covered a swath of several hundred miles in each direction.
Sounds easy, right?

I’m just over three weeks in, and
I’m losing my mind. There were a few things I never factored into my
calculations:

Thing 1: I
have absolutely no sense of direction. Seriously, it’s embarrassing. I get
hopelessly lost in cities I’ve lived in for years. When I read the story of
that poor family that turned down the wrong road in Oregon and almost all
perished, I decided to never, ever drive in Oregon, because if I could manage
to get lost on a weekly basis in Manhattan (the upper section, where it’s a
grid—I don’t honestly know how anyone finds their way around lower Manhattan),
I’m a goner in anything approaching wilderness. The last time I went camping, I
took a wrong turn out of the restroom twenty feet from my tent, wandered off
into the woods, and had to be rescued by park rangers. Sad, but true. So you
can imagine how well I’m doing now, driving all over god’s green earth trying
to find a bookstore in a haystack. Even with the GPS system we borrowed from a
friend to navigate around Boston, my husband and I got lost and ended up in South
Boston when we meant to go downtown. And I’m not talking about the Good-Will-Hunting-blue-collar-South
Boston, either; this South Boston was far more reminiscent of Boyz in the Hood, with angry looking
young men glaring from porches as we drove past, windows rolled up, my husband
gritting his teeth as he said, “God Damn it, I told you we should have brought
a map.”

Thing 2:
J.A. Konrath apparently hits something like a hundred stores a day. I might be
exaggerating that number slightly, but seriously, the man must be a machine.
The most I ever managed was eight, and that’s counting the one where I was
forced to slink away. Lately I’ve limited myself to a far more manageable three
or four stores a day. It means I’ve had to scale back my plans considerably,
but I’ve become convinced it’s worth it to salvage my remaining shreds of
sanity. Because here’s how the day generally goes:

After a
considerable amount of driving, terrifying/angering those sharing the road with
me while I berate the gods of Yahoo and Google Maps, who snidely tell you to
“proceed from the parking lot 3.5 miles toward Avenue X” without giving you any
clear indication of whether you should take a right or a left out of said
parking lot, (Seriously, has anyone else tried to use these directions? Half
the time you’re sent 3 miles out of the way, and you realize in the end all you
had to do was take a right and drive 100 yards. Maddening…) I arrive at the
store. The next goal is to find every copy of my book, which also sounds much,
much easier than it is in actuality. At one store I had four staff members
searching high and low for forty minutes before ten copies were found in the
Cooking Section. Another time I found them filed under “M,” as in “Michelle,”
apparently because someone decided they’d be just as easy to locate under my
first name as my last. Once I’ve found the books, which can take anywhere from
five minutes to an hour, I bring the copies to the information desk if there is
one, or to the register is it isn’t.

Then begins the exciting game I like to
refer to as, “Find the ‘autographed copy’ stickers.” This involves an
increasingly irritated staff member digging through bales of stickers ten deep,
so many stickers that you wonder why they’re not smothering the covers of ever
book in the store. Attempts to offer my own stickers are generally summarily
rejected. After the books are signed and stickered, I offer to replace them in
the shelves…if I’m lucky, they say yes, and then I proceed to re-stock them in
more visible locations throughout the store. And then it’s back on the road, where
I dig through a sea of shredded power bar wrappers, muttering angrily that Lee
Child probably doesn’t have to go through this, before giving up and tearing
across three lanes of traffic to the Taco Bell drive-thru.

Yes, it’s glamorous indeed.
The next time you happen to notice a “Autographed Copy” sticker gracing the
cover of a book on a shelf, take a moment to pause and reflect on how that
signature arrived there, and feel a moment of compassion for the crazed writer
who at that very moment is probably weaving away from an 18 wheeler, clenching
a crushed map over the steering wheel, praying for a GPS system to materialize
on her dashboard.

———————————–

After graduating with honors from Wesleyan University, Michelle
Gagnon spent five years performing as a modern dancer, modeling,
tending bar, working in a Russian supper club, and walking dogs in
Manhattan. Lured to the West Coast by the promise of halcyon days, she
composed web content during the fleeting dotcom boom. In the aftermath
she survived by founding Infinity Personal Training, specializing in
prenatal and postpartum exercise. She also found a niche writing
health, lifestyle, and travel articles for a variety of publications
such as Glamour, CondeNast Traveler, San Francisco Magazine, and Yoga
Journal.

Michelle is a member of Sisters In Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and International Thriller Writers.

by JT Ellison

A perfect example of how a word can alter a story. I doubt the Beastie Boys would have rocketed up the charts with "No Sleep Till Manhattan," or "No Sleep until July 16th when I get home from the most excellent weekend of the year, THRILLERFEST." Whoops, I’m digressing again. And dating myself. Egads!

Yes, it’s that time of year again, folks. I’m leaving for New York on Wednesday. Last year’s Thrillerfest in Phoenix was my very first large conference, and I had a blast running around with the Killer Year crew, meeting my literary gods, attending the coolest panels, and generally being an idiot. This year will be much, much different. I’m a teensy bit nervous, to tell you the truth.

When I look at my schedule for the four day event, it astounds me to think of how much time, effort, and hard work the organizers of this conference have gone to. I’m on two panels, have a video shoot, lunch with my editor, dinner with my agent, a cocktail party, a volunteer stint on Friday, the ITW general meeting, Author Bingo to participate in, panels of friends and authors I admire to attend, and the most important job: people to meet, readers to hopefully impress — I wonder how in the world the people who are organizing the conference and the headliners have time to think, much less be ON for four days. Mind-boggling, really.

What’s odd about this year is the fact that I’m an author. Yes, last year I got my name tag and nearly burst with pride when I saw ITW AUTHOR under my name. This year, it means something. I have a book to promote. Friday morning I need to introduce myself to who knows how many people, utilizing a microphone no less, and pray I don’t make an ass of myself or turn into a gibbering mess, bumbling my way through my 60 seconds, or pass out when Lee Child asks me a question. (Lee, if you’re reading, be gentle.) Sunday I’ll be on a panel with friends and strangers, answering questions for an audience. An audience, people.

Jitters? Hmm. I do and I don’t. I’m never thrilled to have to be the center of attention. Sure, I like attention as much as the next person, but I’m more of a one-on-one kind of girl, because to be honest, I like to hear about the other person more than I like to talk about myself. I know I need to conquer this little fear, and I will. But I’ll probably stutter and stammer a few times along the way. And you know what? That’s okay. The world will not end if I say "Um," a couple of times. Will it? On no. Don’t answer that. You’ll just get me thinking.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Being a novelist these days means a full media presence is necessary. You need to be witty, sharp on your feet, willing to step out of your comfort zone and expand your horizons. You need to be able to talk to booksellers and reviewers. Most importantly, you need to be able to talk to your readers. I don’t have any yet (unless you scored a now hard to get galley at BEA) so I’m still in a nice little comfort zone of pitching the story (ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS introduces series character Taylor Jackson, a homicide lieutenant chasing a vicious serial killer through the southeast.) As a debut author, the expectations are two-fold. Be able to talk about your book and your writing in a semi-intelligent manner, and maintain some semblance of sageness and sobriety after hours. The way I look at it, don’t step on your tail, and don’t step on the tail of any other author, and you should be okay.

Toss into the mix that I’m a complete goober fangirl, will be channeling my inner Valley Girl (like, OHMIGOD!) at the mere thought of being under the same roof as the incredible authors who make up the membership of International Thriller Writers (Lee Child! Barry Eisler! Gayle Lynds! Vince Flynn! Jim Rollins! Tess Gerritsen! on and on and on) and Bob’s your uncle.

Bear in mind, you never get a second chance to make a first impression. Thrillerfest isn’t a party. It’s a business meeting. I’m so thankful that hubby will be traveling to New York with me. As my business partner, marketing maven, manager, etc., he is also my rock. Not every author is lucky enough to have such a savvy spouse who can take time from their own important life to support them. I’m blessed in that regard. It’s also great for him to see the inner workings of the conference, to meet the players, to continue learning the industry from the inside. And if I blow it, which I may well do, he’ll be there to hold me up. 

So here I am, on the cusp on another major moment in my publishing career. Not only do we have Thrillerfest looming, the galleys have gone out to the reviewers. With first timer-itis coursing through my delicate debut veins, I’m in that wide abyss of wait and see. Will they love it? Will they hate it? Honestly, I expect to have a bit of both, and hope for a nice showing of middle ground positive. But who knows? Crime fiction is a terribly subjective genre. What rocks one readers boat may drive a hole through the bottom and sink the yacht of the reader next to them. You’ve just got to have faith that your agent and editor aren’t lying to you, that the whole publishing scenario isn’t some kind of big cosmic joke where you wake up one morning having only dreamed you’ve published your baby.

If you’ll be attending Thrillerfest, please, come say hello. I’d love to meet any and all Murderati readers who have been sharing this journey with me. Let’s sit down in the bar, share a lovely glass of red, and you can tell me a little more about you.

And then, I plan to sleep. Wish me luck!

Wine of the Week: Since I’m of two minds about my nervousness, let’s do light and dark this week. A lovely Cusumano Nero D’Avola will address my angst, and to celebrate the book releases of my dear friends, Brett Battles and Jason Pinter, a little bit of fine Italian bubbly, a Zardetto Prosecco.

BREAKING NEWS FROM MURDERATI to All You Naughty Little Monkeys

Don’t forget to watch our own Ken Bruen on THE LATE LATE SHOW with Craig Ferguson July 9th!!!!