InkSpot

Inkspot News - July 18, 2009

2009-07-18T03:00:00.002-04:00

G.M. Malliet will be appearing with women-of-mystery Donna Andrews, Susan Froetschel, and Marcia Talley at the Frederick County Public Library on July 25 at 1 p.m. Address: 110 E. Patrick Street, Frederick, MD.
G.M.'s Death of a Cozy Writer was an Independent Mystery Booksellers Association bestseller in June: http://www.mysterybooksellers.com/bestsellers.html

Terri Thayer will be selling and signing books at the Fabric Patch booth at the IQA quilt show in Long Beach, CA on Friday and Saturday, July 24th and 25th.

Rescued by the Kinfolk

2009-07-16T23:23:00.002-04:00

By Deborah Sharp

I'm offering a shout-out to my Chicago cousins today. It's not just
that I'm feeling guilty about all those winters they visited us in
Florida, when I laughed at their pale, Northern legs and begrudged
them the fresh squeezed orange juice and my mama's Key lime pie that,
rightfully, I believed, should have been reserved for my little
brother and me.

Nope, I owe them props for tossing me a cousinly life-preserver in the
stormy book-signing sea.

A whole slew of cousins -- firsts, seconds, thirds, even
cousins-in-law -- showed up to support me at the Borders bookstore in
LaGrange, Illinois, this week. I managed to draw a nice crowd in a
spot where I know no one, where I didn't even know LaGrange was one
word with a capital L and a capital G until I saw it on the ''Welcome
To . . .'' sign on the way into town.

And yet, there we were, taking over the place. The Sharps and Markles
and Cochranes and assorted offspring and significant others and
nearly-cousins that make up this patchwork North-South clan I call my
family. All is forgiven -- the times I gave up my bed, the emergency
room visits with third-degree burns in the middle of the night because
SOMEONE thought they knew more than the natives about the intensity
of Florida's sun, the incessant Yankee carping about Florida's creepy crawlies.

Forgiven, forgiven, and forgiven. There is no one more lonely than an author standing alone in a big bookstore. Without the cousins, their neighbors, and my friend and fellow writer, Chicagoan Julia Buckley, that solitary figure would have been me. I promised the good folks at the LaGrange Borders that I could draw a crowd. Book-sellers don't like to schedule signings unless they think they can sell some books. They're funny that way.

And because of the cousins, I made good on my promise. So bring on the third generation of Chicago kinfolk fleeing the cold this winter. I'll even squeeze the orange juice and make the Key lime pie. It's the least I can do.

So, how about you? Do you tap your family to buy your books? Or do you think that's tacky? Hey, they can always say No, right? Lucky for me, and for the sales figures on my second book, MAMA RIDES SHOTGUN, all my fantastic Chicago cousins said Yes.

Goals and Dreams

2009-07-15T08:30:00.002-04:00

Last year I watched with amusement as Ellen DeGeneres set out to entice the elusive George Clooney onto her television show. She eventually succeeded. This year Ellen set her goal to be on the cover of Oprah’s magazine. It was almost too easy. Then Ellen needed a new goal.

Goals are a very hot topic in life. We all know about New Year’s resolutions, which are just a different term for goals. Weight loss is always associated with targets or goals. And who hasn’t been asked in a job interview about their short term and long term career goals?

Writers talk a lot about goals. Some make themselves sit for a certain amount of time each day, writing words—whether they’re publishable words or not. Others force themselves to write a certain number of words per day, no matter what. Ever wonder if some days they write #*!!**# over and over?

Often writers give themselves one year (or two or more) to finish a book. They talk less about what the term “finish” means. Is it 80,000 words, perfected, proofread and ready to publish? Or is it an unedited stream of narrative, description and dialog that will need another year (or more) of revisions before it can be marketed?

When I decided to write a book, my goal was to write a mystery that a publisher recognized by Mystery Writers of America would deem worthy of publication. (Note that my goal was not to be published—that’s a goal fraught with peril, IMHO). For Better, For Murder will be released in September. For Richer, For Danger will follow in 2010. The third book in the series is ready for market, too.

Now I need a new goal. It can’t be too easy, like the Ellen/Oprah magazine cover. And it has to be measurable, reasonable, and attainable. Otherwise, it’s not motivating, and a goal should be motivating. And fun, because life should be fun.

I could write more books in this series. That would be fun, because I love these characters. They talk to me in the shower and the car and sometimes even when someone else is talking to me. But I don’t see any point to it yet, so it’s not motivating. Maybe if the sales on my first book go wild by year end, I’ll get busy on book four. Still, I need a goal now.

I could set a goal to write a different standalone book or series. Now here’s the rub. I don’t feel like it. Plus the characters from my Broken Vows mystery series might get jealous and stop talking to me.

I’m thinking about a goal to write a saleable screenplay. I have no experience or training in writing one of those either. But I love movies almost as much as books and I bought a book on how to write screenplays. That’s a start. And I understand and appreciate formulas, which seems to be what Hollywood is sticking to at the moment. Who can blame them? Formulas work.

And if my screenplay should by some miracle get the green light, maybe I could get Ellen to set a goal to entice George Clooney to star in the movie.

Dream big, right?!

Characters welcome

2009-07-14T00:48:00.001-04:00

I’ve started watching TMZ, a celebrity gossip show. Not watching in a cozy chair with a big bowl of popcorn, reveling in the nonsense that our celebrities get up to. Watching in the sense that I’m doing kitchen clean up and turn it on for background noise.

And then stand in front of the TV, dish cloth in hand, mesmerized.

It’s not the sight of Lindsay Lohan getting into her SUV or Mickey Rourke’s ravaged face that keeps me interested. It’s the cast of reporters.

I don’t know much about this show but my take is that it’s a bunch of reporters talking about footage captured that day in various spots. New York, Hollywood, Cote D’Azur. Places where movie stars and heiresses hang out. The conceit is that they pitch their favorite clips the paparazzi took that day. Mostly, they’re trying to impress Harvey Levin, the ersatz host.

Harvey’s like the dad. He stands in front of a whiteboard, with a drink (not a cool Martini but something in a reusable cup with a straw). The kids (there’s only one or two that look older than college age) introduce their clips. They vie for Harvey’s attention like siblings at the dinner table. They try to shock him, or make him laugh. Getting him to spit out his drink is a bonus. Like any good TV dad, he’s slightly befuddled by the kids’ references or appalled at their lack of knowledge of anything before 2003.

It’s the mix of characters that I find fascinating. There are a lot of archetypes in that room. There’s the brainy girl, smarter than the boys by far. There’s the iron-jawed guy with long hair with the body of a linebacker. He’s not as dumb as he looks but sometimes plays to that stereotype. There’s the edgier guy, who you know is too good for this job but he’s been caught by the bright lights and the spectacle. There’s the hot girl who often says things she shouldn’t.

Then there’s the voice of reason. Sort of the mom. In this case, it’s a 40-something guy with wonderful braids that sometimes reminds them that libel is a sueable act and that even McCauley Culkin was a cute little guy once upon a time. Tells the siblings to simmer down. “Oh, Ricky,” you can almost hear him say.

The interplay of these characters is mesmerizing. Not always predictable, yet recognizable. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Finding a way to imbue our characters with enough familiar characteristics so that the reader knows them but with enough edge, a secret agenda, or a dilemma that makes them interesting.

How do you people your novel with memorable characters?

ThrillerFest Report

2009-07-13T12:04:00.026-04:00

Keith here, in one piece but exhausted.

With Sophie Littlefield, Alex Sokoloff, and Jim Rollins at ThrillerFest.

(I'm drinking regular iced tea. Honest.)

I left home on Sunday July 5 and got home last night. The first four days of the trip I visited my daughter in Boston. I'd arranged for researcher passes, and we searched through the archives at the JFK Presidential Library to explore an idea for a thriller. Did everyone but me know he got a D+ in European History?

My daughter is a college student and knows how to cut corners. She recommended the Bolt Bus which left the train station in Boston at 10.30 AM Thursday and delivered us to Penn Station in NYC four hours later. I really lucked out by sitting next to Hallie Ephron, who is as good a conversationalist as she is writer and reviewer. I also managed a few pages of the terrific Prime Time by Hank Phillippi Ryan. The time whizzed by. (Did I mention the ticket cost $10?)

Thursday night the opening reception at ThrillerFest was sponsored by Writers House, my literary agency. While everyone else was imbibing, the other Writers House authors and I (I was next to fave M.J. Rose) were signing books. That night my agent Josh took me and James Phelan, who is plotting world literary domination from his base in Melbourne, Australia, out for sushi.

The next morning I met with Carol Fitzgerald and Erin Quinn of The Book Report to discuss revisions to http://www.keithraffel.com/. Good things are coming. From there I toddled over to see old pal Rick Wolff of Grand Central Books. Friday afternoon I managed to hit a couple panels, one with Simon Lipskar of Writers House acting as a family counselor between authors and editors and the next with Hallie, Doug Preston, and more on creating great villains. After, I bought Joe Moore, co-president designate of International Thriller Writers, a drink, but one without the umbrella that I thought he favored. Two beers with tip ran $23. That's the downside of NYC. Joe and I finished our brewskis at 5.45 at the bar in the Grand Hyatt at Grand Central. I was supposed to meet friends Ian, Lexa, and Sam, my much put-upon hosts when I visit to NYC, at Telepan at 6. God bless the subway. I was seated at 6.04, although there was the incident when the subway doors shut on my glasses along the way. Great to spend some time with them and enjoy that sublime smoked trout appetizer.

Saturday morning I had the best of intentions. I got to the Grand Hyatt with the panels I planned on attending all picked out. But I sat down for a minute in the lobby with homegirl Sophie Littlefield, whose Bad Day for Sorry is out next month, and with old bud Alex Sokoloff, who would win a Thriller Award later that night. Then came Sophie's Shamus-winning brother Michael Wiecek and then Maggie and Sheila.... Well, you get the idea. Never quite made it to any morning panels. I did sneak in to hear most of Doug Preston's interview of Sandra Brown, who is charming, beautiful, and articulate. She sold me. I'm going to give one of her 57 New York Times bestsellers a try.

Any hope of making it to the afternoon sessions started to evaporate when I ran into Becky Cantrell, whose A Trace of Smoke has been garnering praise everywhere. We gathered up Andy Peterson, Bobby Rotenberg, Pam Callow, C.J. Lyons, Shane Gericke, and more and found a place that would serve us sandwiches. Shane's theory about thong underwear and female police officers was pooh-poohed by the women at the table. Just as we were going to split up, Jim Rollins strolled by. Jim's The Doomsday Key is #2 this week on the NY Times bestseller list (not shabby). (#4 loved the autographed copy of Jim's Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow that I brought home for him.) We retired to the hotel bar with Jim, his partner David, and Sophie. We managed to stumble across Alex again and ITW co-founder Gayle Lynds whose terrific The Last Spymaster I read just last week. Gayle and I compared notes. She's busy writing about the tunnels underneath Moscow while I'm writing about what's under the streets of Jerusalem. We got so caught up in the conversation, I almost missed my own panel.

The panel was scheduled at 4, in the last slot before the pre-awards banquet reception. Other panels we were up against boasted writers like Eric Van Lustbader, Karin Slaughter, Joe Finder, David Hewson, David Liss, Brad Meltzer, and M.J. Rose. I was amazed to find 30 people ready to listen to us prattle on about "Do We Need Another Hero?" Under Tony Tata's expert guidance, Andy Harp, Ward Larson, Paul Wilson, and I talked about what writers needed to do to make their protagonists shine with appeal and originality. My first suggestion was to make them bald. Anyway, I did voice my opinion that we don't need another protagonist who is consumed by work, is divorced but with strong feelings toward an ex, and has problems with alcohol and a precocious child.

At the banquet I was at the Writers House table with, among others, agents Simon Lipskar and Dan Conaway, James Phelan, Charlie Newton (whom I'd interviewed about his Calumet City, nominated for both an Edgar and Thriller Award, but never met face to face), Josh Gaylord whose Hummingbirds will be out this fall and whom I'd met on the phone without knowing who his wife was, and that very wife, the brilliant Megan Abbott. I was so tickled with Alex's win for best short story.

Last year, after the banquet I found myself in a midtown Irish bar with Dusty Rhoades, Tom O'Callaghan, Tasha Alexander, and Sean Chercover, among others. When I suggested to Sean we do it again, he was up for it, but I was bluffing. Home by 1.30 this year.

Liz Berry, Kathy Antrim, Shane Gericke. Shirley Kennett, Steve Berry, and the whole ITW team did an amazing job. In the face of this economy, attendance was up.

Display at airport bookstore

At the airport on Sunday went to the book stall to pick up a paper and saw the display of Jim Rollins' The Doomsday Key. There it is above. Terrific. Not a nicer guy in the biz. On the flight itself, I was on American to SFO, seat 37G. Guess who were in 37 H and J? The effervescent, Bruce Alexander Award-winning Kelli Stanley and partner Tana. I read the Sunday Times, did the crossword, discussed the previous three days with my seatmates, and listened to some of the compelling things Kelli had turned up in her research. Also promised Tana that Dot Dead wasn't too dark for her tastes and that no dogs were hurt in the book.

Home now. Beat but with a pile of to-dos as high as an elephant's eye.

Guest Blogger Neil Plakcy

2009-07-10T02:28:00.006-04:00

Please welcome our guest blogger, my friend Neil Plakcy.

1. Tell us about yourself. I know you teach, Neil. What do you teach and where? How does that work with your career as an author? What sort of impact has this had on your writing schedule? What have you learned through teaching that you apply to your work?

Though back in 1988 I signed up for the new Master of Fine Arts program in creative writing at Florida International University just to learn to write better, I can see that my classes also taught me how to teach writing. Taking workshops with great writers like Les Standiford, James W. Hall and Lynne Barrett forced me to write and rewrite. I also learned how to take a more analytical approach to writing as I came to understand the basics of character, dialogue, scene, plotting and so on.

Today I teach writing at Broward College, #3 in the country in the number of associate’s degrees granted. (My campus is halfway between Miami and Ft. Lauderdale, with a very multi-cultural student body that ranges in age from teenagers to mid-life career changers.) Over 60% of our students enter lacking basic writing skills, so I teach two levels of developmental writing—sentence to paragraph and paragraph to essay. I created my own approach to freshman composition, using writing about food to build skills in narration, description, and research. I’ve also taught writing about literature and creative writing.

My favorite is a literature course on mystery fiction, where we read academic essays about the mystery as well as short stories and novels in three genres: amateur sleuth, private eye, and police procedural. The students love the chance to read great contemporary stories, and I enjoy exposing them to the mystery and hearing what they have to say about it.
Teaching is a great gig for a writer. Three of my courses are fully online, so my schedule is very flexible, and I can carve out writing time every day. And guiding students to write better has impacted my own writing—I hear that “teacher voice” in my head saying things like “Wait—you’re changing point of view!” or “This paragraph is awful long.”

2. Tell us about your new book--the characters, the setting and a bit about the plot. How does it fit in with your other works?

The elevator pitch for my first mystery, Mahu, was “gay cop gets dragged out of the closet while investigating a dangerous case.” Once I’d finished that book, though, my hero, Honolulu homicide detective Kimo Kanapa’aka, told me that his journey had just begun. I came to see “coming out” as a process, rather than a single event, and looked for cases Kimo could investigate that would challenge him and move him forward.

In subsequent books, Kimo has traveled paths common to many gay men, particularly those who come out in their 30s, as he does. In Mahu Surfer, when he went undercover to discover who had been killing surfers, he began by making gay friends and getting more comfortable with himself. In Mahu Fire, he met fire inspector Mike Riccardi while investigating a bombing, and fell in love.

In Mahu Vice, the newest in the series, he’s discovering that the path to true love has more than a few twists and turns. Called to an arson homicide at a shopping center built by his father, he is forced to work with Mike again, nearly a year after they broke up. Tension rises as the case gets more complex and he and Mike rekindle their attraction.

But will the same things that drove them apart a year before doom this renewed relationship? What was going on at the acupuncture clinic where the victim, a teenaged Chinese illegal immigrant, was working?

Prostitution, gambling and immigration are all hot-button issues in Hawaii, as in many places, but the isolation, multicultural community, and tropical heat in Hawaii conspire to raise the tension level for Kimo and Mike as they figure out not only whodunit, but where their relationship can go.

3. Your books feature gay characters. In the beginning, did this make it harder to get a publisher? Or was it easier because you had a niche market? Has this influenced your marketing attempts, and if so, how? Does this ever pose any challenges at signings?

I didn’t realize I was writing for a niche when I started. I didn’t even know that the niche existed! Like many beginning writers, I was woefully undereducated about the business side of publishing. But I learned. When I approached agents at first, many thought that the idea of a gay detective was too radical. So I had to do my research, and discovered a thriving niche. (There were 18 nominations last year for the Lambda Literary Award for best gay men’s mystery, for example. Mahu Fire was a top-five finalist for that award.)

My first agent targeted all the publishers she thought would be interested, and every one of them turned me down. When I’d just about given up, I met an editor at the Miami Book Fair who told me his press was expanding their gay genre fiction line (mystery, romance, horror, etc.) and encouraged me to send the manuscript to him directly. That’s why I say my career has benefited from both hard work and luck. And of course, the harder I work, the luckier I get!

Booksellers tend to have an idea, even if it’s narrow, of the audience they can bring in for signings. For example, I’ve tried without success to convince a chain bookstore that I know a lot of older gay men who read who live in a neighborhood south of Miami. But they say gay books don’t sell at that store, so they won’t offer me a reading.

Maybe the books aren’t selling because they aren’t bringing in authors and marketing to that community. Or maybe they’re right, and I’m wrong.

It was much harder to set readings up with my first publisher, a small press; one independent bookstore owner told me “You’re one step above self-published,” even though that press published 200 books a year, had a big marketing department, and offered co-op advertising. Now that I am lucky enough to be published by the biggest GLBT press in the country, Alyson Books, I get great distribution and booksellers know my titles.

Interestingly enough, I got much more negative reaction when I was in graduate school writing about Jewish characters than I’ve ever gotten writing about gay ones. When I wrote humorous stories about dumb Jews (I have a lot in my own family, so I’ve got lots of material) people were really offended.

4. You have a robust online presence. Tell us about that. How do you compare the online community with other writing communities?

I started coming out myself just as the Internet began to boom, so the ability to seek out GLBT people, news, and online communities has been important to me for years. While I love volunteering with the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and attending mystery conferences like Bouchercon, Sleuthfest, and Left Coast Crime, the ability to stay in contact with other writers more than once or twice a year, or even once a month, is very important. I belong to a local critique group, but I also email stories and chapters to more far-flung colleagues, and I enjoy being part of their lives through Twitter and Facebook, too.

I think there’s also a degree of intimacy you can develop with an online friend that harder to duplicate face to face. Even with my closest writing friends in Florida, we might meet only at events or exchange the occasional email or phone call, because we all have busy lives. I can spill my heart out over a rejection to an online friend, though, and get commiseration back right away, as well as suggestions on where to market next.

5. You recently won a "Lefty." Tell us what that's meant to you and your career.

I was absolutely thrilled to win the Hawaii Five-O award for best police procedural at the 2009 Left Coast Crime festival. I grew up watching that show, and it still influences my writing. It was fun to receive the award in Hawaii, because my books are set there, but the best part was that the voters were fans rather than critics. My publisher donated copies for the book bags, and throughout the conference I had people come up to me and say, “I just started reading your book and I love it!”

As far as my career goes, I don’t think it means much. If it had been an Edgar…. though now I can be introduced as “Award-Winning Author Neil Plakcy!”

6. You've been very involved with SleuthFest. How has that benefited you? What would you say to someone considering coming to the conference?

Any writer’s conference is a great chance to network, learn, and be energized, and I think Sleuthfest does a great job on all those fronts. Inspiration is a funny thing; it often comes when you’re not expecting it. I’ve gone to seminars and workshops just out of a sense of duty or obligation, and walked out with fresh ideas and a desire to get back to my computer as fast as possible. I’ve also loved meeting the writers, published and unpublished, who attend, and swapping stories about writing. So personally and professionally, Sleuthfest has been a great event for me.

Sleuthfest has a terrific core of volunteers, so just walking in the door you know you’re going to be welcomed into a wonderful group of writers. And how can you beat South Florida in February?

**
About Neil Plakcy

Neil Plakcy is the author of Mahu, Mahu Surfer, Mahu Fire and Mahu Vice, mystery novels set in Hawaii, as well as the romance novel GayLife.com. He edited Paws & Reflect: A Special Bond Between Man and Dog and the gay erotic anthologies Hard Hats and Surfer Boys.

Plakcy is a journalist and book reviewer as well as an assistant professor of English at Broward College’s south campus in Pembroke Pines. He is vice president of the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and a frequent contributor to gay anthologies.

The Simple Comfort of Books

2009-07-09T04:30:00.001-04:00

The dolly and the thing that resembles a faceless Medusa are my seven year old daughter’s favorite things in this world. Yes, they’re the famous Dirty Baby and Blankie. I put them on a bookshelf to give them a more attractive backdrop for their…interesting…appearance. I don’t know if you can tell from the photo, but most of Dirty Baby’s stuffing is currently down in her legs. It makes her look as if she suffers from an unusual medical condition. And Blankie? I collected all the strands of Blankie together for the photo shoot. Now Blankie is disconnected again on my daughter’s bed.

I know age seven is a little old for loveys, but I figured we can all use some comfort in this world. Mine is reading a good mystery.

It’s funny how comforting a murder mystery can be. Why is murder relaxing? None of the characters in the books are finding the murders relaxing. They’re desperately trying to learn the killer’s identity before he murders again.

I think it’s the same reason I find scary movies relaxing. They’re cathartic. You have all this tension bunched up in this one book or movie. When it’s done it’s an ‘ahhhhh’ moment. Tension is immediately relieved! Unlike real life, where worries can roam wildly out of control and encompass the troubled economy, out-of-control boxwoods that must be hacked into submission, and an annoyingly drippy faucet.

My favorites to read and write are cozies. Here you’re introduced to a tranquil setting—that’s suddenly ravaged by terror! The bad guys are caught, justice prevails, and the town regains its idyllic status once again.

What’s your comforting escape from reality?

Adios, Partner

2009-07-08T06:00:00.000-04:00

Last Thursday, I lost a dear friend, one I've shared a special relationship with for the past four years.

My laptop died.

Writers know what a blow this is. What other object do you touch as much on an intimate basis? Every day, for hours and hours, my fingers danced (and rested and pounded and quivered) on that keyboard. It was the conduit for my writing, the instrument that let me express myself.

I already miss the way it beeped at me when it booted up.

My laptop was always there for me. Whether I was wrestling with a tough stretch of description (my bane), struggling through a poorly written synopsis, or slogging through pages and pages of info on some obscure website, my cherished laptop stood beside me, supporting me, cheering me on. Let's go, Alan, you can do it. I know you can. Keep plugging away!

At least I'm comforted by the thought it got to experience the sheer joy of typing THE END on several occasions.

I used it to write DIAMONDS FOR THE DEAD (although it was called HIDDEN FACETS then--for some odd reason, my laptop wasn't very good at titles). I wrote first drafts, second drafts, third drafts, and tenth drafts of other projects. Query letters, synopses, bios, outlines, blog posts, to-do lists, limericks--you name it, I wrote it on my beloved laptop.

And now it's gone.

It was a four-year-old Toshiba, but I suppose that's like pushing eighty in human-years. It had an aged processor working at a slow speed, a small hard drive, and its limited memory just wasn't what it used to be. I guess it's in a better place now.

Thankfully, the end was quick and it didn't suffer. One minute I was surfing the Internet, and the next minute the display pixilated, then froze. I shut down and tried to restart it. Nothing. I thought maybe things had overheated, so I waited a while for everything to cool, then tried again. Still nothing. Holding back tears (and holding my tongue--children were present), I kept trying to revive it, but my hopes faded with every passing moment.

Finally, miracle of miracles, it sputtered back to life! My not-so-silent prayers had been answered. Relief surged through me (at the same time I was frantically backing up everything I could onto a portable hard drive). Maybe it had only been a fleeting ailment, like indigestion or some bizarre 24-minute computer virus.

A short while later, just as I had managed to get everything backed up, the display froze again. More attempts at resuscitation followed, but to no avail. Flatline. Had the perfect timing been simply a coincidence, or had it been a last, loving gesture from my dying laptop to me? I'd like to think it was the latter.

No matter how difficult it may be, I know I have to move on. My new laptop, an HP, has a much faster processor, a hard drive four times as large, and twice as much memory. It has tons of new features (at least new to me): text-to-speech (I'd always imagined my old laptop would speak with a calm, measured voice, like HAL in 2001), voice recognition (I hope it doesn't recognize all the words I use--that could be embarrassing!), and a web cam (maybe I'll broadcast myself writing in my jammies and charge people a few bucks a month to watch*). It also comes with a few cool games to spark my creativity when I get stuck (hello, Chess Titans!).

I'll have some things to get used to. The location of the various ports and buttons, the new operating system,** and, most importantly, the way the keys feel under my fingers. I hope I'll be able to adapt--only time will tell.

Of course, all I really want to know is if my new laptop can write best-selling manuscripts.

Here's to the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

Alan

Footnotes
*Does my agent get 15% of that?

**Does anyone know how to disable all those event confirmation requests in Vista?

Self-Loathing and The Writing Process

2009-07-07T00:00:00.000-04:00

by Julia Buckley
At the beginning of every new writing project I experience a sort of euphoria. I have a great idea, and it's coming together. I'm immersed in the story, meeting the characters, convinced that I'm creating something real and powerful.

Then I read it and revise bits. And read it again, and again, and again, as I try to polish it, and eventually I cross that barrier where I can no longer be objective about my own work. And just a few paces down that road is the town of I Can't Stand It.

This happens every time. I don't know if it's a psychological phenomenon or a trick of biology, but with each new creation I go through the predictable stages that begin with love and fascination and end up with that lack of objectivity and something close to hatred.

Then I have to put the manuscript away, sometimes for a long time, before I can bear to look at it again.

Is this a universal thing? If so, what is it that makes us ultimately reject our own creation and want to move on to something different? Is it a fear of revision, or a necessary breach which allows us to begin again? Is there a way to reclaim love for one's written words?

Writers and readers, I'd love your opinions.

Feeling Small

2009-07-06T08:29:00.011-04:00

Tom Schreck
Author of The Duffy Series

Yesterday I got a thank you note from Kabul, Afghanistan.

Air Force Lt. Colonel Martin Balaskas had come across one of the copies of “On the Ropes” that I sent over to the troops. He’s a big Duffy fan and when I offered to send “TKO” and “Out Cold” he said he was already a couple of chapters into “TKO” and had “Out Cold”.

He wrote and said that he liked the characters and the plot development.

Lt. Colonel Martin Balaskas

Tanya and Derek Erickson are basset hound folks. They bid $1,000 to get their hound Arthur in “Out Cold”. The money goes to the hound rescue organization in Michigan.

Tanya is stationed in Bagdhad in one of Hussein’s old palaces. The place is called “The Perfume Palace.” Derek isn’t with her because he’s in the Navy.

Do you remember that pirate incident awhile back? Derek was one of the guys that secured the pirated ship and took care of the crew. He's on the USS Bainbridge.

I sent them copies of all the books and one to Tanya’s mom, Anita who is taking care of the hounds back in the states.

There are days I feel all self-important and I take writing my crappy little murder mysteries quite seriously. I think about the pressure, the hard work and the sacrifice I put in making shit up on this laptop.

Then, I get an email from one of these people.

Talk about feeling small.

I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that said, “I’m Already Against the Next War.” That’s how I feel. I’m not patriotic and I think the government isn’t honest with us.

That has nothing to do with how I feel for these folks in the military. They are away from home, separated from the people (and hounds) they love and in harm’s way where everyday someone on the other side would consider it a good day if they got killed.

My dad had four Purple Hearts, two Silver Stars and two Bronze stars. General Patton pinned the Silver Star on my dad. And I believe my father carried the war every day of his life for the fifty years he lived after it was over. He wouldn’t let me or my two brothers consider the service.

Probably has something to do with how I feel about war and the soldiers involved.

I’ve met a new friend through the internet. Ginny Tata-Phillips is a nut and she’s another hound person. She writes Haiku books about bassets.She sent my books over to Kabul for her husband Rick to enjoy. When I found out I was honored and with her help sent more over. Colonel Richard Phillips sent me this photo of him and his buddy, Colonel Hickenbottom reading Duffy in Afghanistan.

In the meantime Ginny has been home in Florida taking care of her hounds and supporting basset rescue. She sends packages to soldiers every month.

She loves my books and promotes them all the time.

I’m not sure why. I’ve only met Ginny through the internet but I’ll tell you this—I wouldn’t mess with her. I can tell she is a strong and powerful person.

But then when your husband spends his time in harm’s way she’d have to be.

I think Ginny’s hounds will be noisy today. I’m guessing they’ll bark and bay and howl and jump up and down and do even less than they are told than usual.

I’m happy to let everyone know that Colonel Phillips arrives home today in Florida.

God Bless him, Tanya and Derek Erickson, Lt. Colonel Balaskas, Colonel Hickenbottom and everyone in harm’s way. Pray for them and their families.

Guest Blogger Elaine Viets

2009-07-03T04:00:00.003-04:00

G.M. Malliet

Elaine Viets, author of two national bestselling mystery series, is our guest blogger today at Inkspot.

Publishers Weekly called Elaine's Dead-End Job series “wry social commentary.”

“Killer Cuts,” her new Dead-End Job mystery, is about the intimate relationship many women have with their stylists. Her Josie Marcus mystery shopper series is set in Elaine’s hometown, St. Louis.

Elaine has won the Agatha, Anthony and Lefty Awards.

Today she asks, "Is the book signing dead?"

Premature Burial?

I’ve finally unpacked from a book tour that started April 30 in Arlington, Virginia, and ended two weeks ago at Ponte Vedra, in northeast Florida.

I’m not the only author asking that question. Some say it’s already been answered. Here’s why:
Publishers are cutting back on book tours, even for successful authors.

Fewer bookstores are holding signings. They’re expensive. The stores have to spend money for publicity, signs and staff. When the books don’t sell, stores have the extra cost of returning and/or stripping stock.

Failed book signings cost us writers, too. If we only sell five or six books, it doesn’t pay for our gas and takes us away from the computer.

We know, unless we’re literary rock stars, like Charlaine Harris or Stephen King, we probably won’t draw a huge crowd. Readers can watch TV, see a movie, even sit by the pool. Why pay $25 for a hardcover or buy a paperback for $7, the price of a six-pack – when books and movies are free at the library?

As e-books grow in popularity, book signings may disappear. It’s hard to autograph an e-book.
Right. And computers created the paperless office. That’s why I can barely find my wheezing word processor under the manuscripts, first drafts and letters on my landfill of a desk.
Let’s not hold a funeral for book signings yet.

Yes, I gripe about signings. I’m discouraged if I get a poor turnout. But I’d miss them. I’m a part-time hermit. I need to get away from people while I write. For four to six months, I stare at the computer and live on canned tuna. It’s a sorry life when the cat is howling for my lunch.

But when the book is done, I emerge from my cave for five or six weeks. That’s when I meet readers and talk to the booksellers who hand-sell my novels.

For me, signings are a celebration. My fifth Dead-End Job mystery, “Murder Unleashed,” was my first hardcover. It was launched with a party at Bone Appetit, the Fort Lauderdale dog boutique where I’d researched this job. In St. Louis, at a benefit signing at Three Dog Bakery, we had a “Best Dressed Dog” contest. A Lab in a hula skirt won. Personally, all Labs do the hula when they wag their tails.

Murder by the Book, the independent Houston store, invited Caring Critters, a volunteer group who bring their dogs to hospitals and other institutions. This was the only book tour where half my makeup was licked off by the end of the signings.

You miss those experiences when you download an ebook.

Now signings are evolving into events with presold books.

Joanne Sinchuk, founder of Murder on the Beach in Delray Beach, Florida, has author luncheons. Joanne partners with two nearby restaurants for fixed-price lunches. A group of 20 or more – often a charity, literary or social club – makes reservations with Joanne. For $25 or $32, each person gets lunch and a paperback.

The group goes to lunch first. Then I join them for the author talk.

Another local indie, Well-Read Books, has a similar program. For $35, the readers get lunch and a signed copy of “Killer Cuts,” my latest hardback.

A traditional author luncheon eats half my day. The new ones take less of my time. I live half an hour from the stores. I show up after the lunch, give my talk, sign the books, then go home.

Some writers say it’s not worthwhile to sell 20 or 30 paperbacks. But I have eleven novels in my backlist, and these talks keep them moving. The mystery Joanne Sinchuk features most often, “Shop Till You Drop,” is now in its twelfth printing.

Photo is of Elaine and Lulu, the "Murder Unleashed" dog.

News: Review of Battered Body by Mystery News

2009-07-01T18:43:00.002-04:00

Inkspotter J.B. Stanley's The Battered Body garners a very positive review in the current issue of Mystery News. Mary Helen Becker writes, "Stanley does a great job creating the small town atmosphere and many likable characters whose everyday lives are interrupted by crime and cruelty."

Congrats, J.B.

Safe Movie Watching

2009-07-01T11:02:00.008-04:00

Cricket McRae

Step by careful step, the figure on the screen trudges up the icy mountain. The howling wind blows snow around him. A heavy parka, gloves and balaclava protect him from the frigid cold.

Morgan Freeman's mellifluous voice begins narrating the story.

I point to the television. "That's not who we think it is."

The picture freezes. The room falls silent. On the sofa next to me my guy holds up one finger and gives me a stern look. Smiles.

We are watching The Bucket List starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson, and I have already broken a cardinal rule in our household: Safe Movie Watching.

This rule, of course, applies mostly to me. I'm the one who predicts plot, wonders how that little unsung but odd detail will come up later in a meaningful way, rants when characters act inconsistently or the emotion is wrung from cheap pathos rather than effective story. I'm the one who raves at wonderful characters, twisty reversals and well executed gaps between audience expectation and what actually happens.

I am, in short, not that much fun to watch a movie with unless I shut my yap about all this stuff that's second nature to me as a writer. Hence, the Safe Movie Watching Rule.

To be fair, we also have a Safe Live Show Rule that applies to my guy, who's a musician and sound engineer. It requires that he limit his verbal explanation of every aspect of a venue's sound, how well the sound mixer knows his job, the quality of the equipment, etc.

Now, there are some of writers who read entirely for pleasure, getting lost in the story and not examining the writing. Many of us can't, though. Writing has altered our ability to just sit down and read a book. I'm better at losing myself in nonfiction, but there are a few authors who suck me into a story far enough that the how and what of they're doing goes out the window as I read.

When I stumble on one of these gems, being able to lose myself in another world is wonderful. However, when the writing is noticeable, then it's still wonderful (unless it's terrible writing, which I will usually just stop reading). There's an added layer of appreciation, even if that objective part of me is droning on in the background.

What about you? Can you compartmentalize reading and writing, editing and reading, writing and editing? Do you even find time to read, or is it a guilty pleasure because you're supposed to be writing, writing, writing all the time?

Oh, and that figure trudging up the mountain? Well ... I wouldn't want to spoil the movie for you.

Mystery Scene Review of Pretty Is As Pretty Dies and Ocean Waves

2009-06-30T15:12:00.006-04:00

Inkspotter Elizabeth Spann Craig's Pretty Is As Pretty Dies is reviewed in the summer issue of Mystery Scene. The review concludes, "Craig's skill at evoking a small town and its idiosyncratic inhabits renders this mystery a pleasure to read."

In the same issue, Terri Thayer's Ocean Waves is deemed "superb" and "the perfect cozy to keep you company on a rainy afternoon."

Bravo Terri and Elizabeth!

The issue also has photos of Inkspotters Joanna Campbell Slan and G.M. Malliet at Malice Domestic.

The Original Book Tour

2009-06-30T11:35:00.005-04:00

Before I published May Day in March 2006, when I thought of authors, I thought of people who had it made, writing away in their sun rooms, a cup of tea by their side, shielded from the messy world as they created literary art and cashed royalty checks.

I had it partly right. I do often have tea while writing.

Otherwise, the money for beginning authors is not great. I've heard that publishers are happy to sell 5,000 copies of a debut novel, and the author makes about 50 cents a copy. My experience supports that.

As for time, a lot of it is taken in promoting the book. With 100s of thousands of books out there, it takes a lot of leg work to separate yours from the pack. This involves book signings, media interviews, blogging, submitting shorter works to magazines and anthologies, and sending out review copies of your novel. I do it, but it's not writing, which is what I thought I'd signed up for.

That's why I thought the following information was so interesting. It seems writers have NEVER been in their ivory tower, creating literature, and that writing has always been a cutthroat business. Not as romantic as the vision most of us have of authors, but interesting nonetheless. (The information below was posted on a writing listserv, but I'm afraid I can't find the name of the original poster.):

"There has never been an ivory tower for writers. Dickens went on long book tours, reading extracts of his books to audiences. George Eliot, Thackeray and others also did public readings, and went to the various social events arranged by their publishers. Defoe, Swift and company contributed to magazines and satirical publications and also went to social gatherings, like the literary salons arranged by the likes of Elizabeth Montagu.

Childrens' writers contributed to comics and magazines, went to schools and libraries to do readings. Shakespeare appeared in his own plays. Marlowe worked for the government on the side, to make a few pennies. Or were the plays his sideline? The ones who did no promotion of any kind are as rare as hen's teeth. Chaucer worked for the Crown and no doubt pushed his books at his work colleagues and at Court. So I can't think of a time when writers haven't promoted. More's the pity. The ivory tower looks beautiful from here."

It's work, but it's great work. :)

See You At The Finish Line(s)!

2009-06-29T01:03:00.005-04:00

When you reach for the stars, you may not quite get them, but you won’t come up with a handful of mud either. -Leo Burnett

Obviously, Mr. Burnett never met me.

Fourteen months ago I told the world that I, a 56-year-old, out of shape, 200+ lb woman was going to do the Camp Pendleton Mud run – a 6.2 mile race over a muddy, hilly, military obstacle course. People laughed. Some called me insane. A few even voiced their concerns for my well being. As the months ticked by, most were sure I would cancel. One friend even told me a few months before the event that no one would think less of me if I bowed out.

Oh yeah? What about me? I would think less of myself if I didn’t do it. I didn’t set and announce that goal to impress people. I set it to prove to myself that I could set a course, prepare for it, and turn it into a reality. The public arena kept me honest and hopefully motivated some folks to set their own goals.

Well, I did it! And here's the photo to prove it.

It was pretty much the same thing when I finally decided once and for all to write and keep writing until I got published. In spite of naysayers, I plugged on, and look where that determination got me!

For the past few weeks, I’ve been a little aimless. The Mud Run is behind me and I am without a major goal. Sure, I have book deadlines – lots of book deadlines. But those are not goals. Those are contractual obligations. Not at all the same thing. I need a goal.

This weekend I went over some of my prior goal lists, which I prepare every January. These are not New Years resolutions to keep for a few weeks then abandon, but goals to strive for. There are a few that I never hit within the time frame I set. And that got me to thinking. Does that mean the goal is no longer valid? That I’m off the hook because I didn’t reach it in the allotted amount of time? Do goals have expiration dates like milk?

I think not. They are still alive, they’ve just been in hibernation. So here they are, back again, this time until I reach the finish line.

*In January 2008, I declared I was going to lose 100 lbs. by the end of that year. To date I’ve lost 35 lbs., I have 65 left to go. New deadline: June 1, 2010, just in time for the next Mud Run. And yes, I want to do it again.

*In January 2009, I vowed to finish a stand alone novel that year. I’m now committed to spending 4 hours every week working on this novel until it is done. New deadline: January 1, 2011.

Bottom line, if you don’t challenge yourself, you will never know what you are truly capable of doing.

So, who’s with me? What personal goals are you willing to voice out loud and make happen?

Inkspot News - June 27, 2009

2009-06-27T06:26:00.004-04:00

G.M. Malliet will be at the Deadly Ink conference in Parsippany, NJ, today and tomorrow, June 27 and 28. Lincoln Child is the conference's Guest of Honor and the Toastmaster is Jeff Cohen. G.M.'s book Death of a Cozy Writer is a nominee for Deadly Ink's David Award.

The full list of nominees:

JANE K. CLELAND - ANTIQUES TO DIE FOR
ROSEMARY HARRIS - PUSHING UP DAISIES
ROBIN HATHAWAY - SLEIGHT OF HAND
G. M. MALLIET - DEATH OF A COZY WRITER
RADINE TREES NEHRING - A RIVER TO DIE FOR
ELIZABETH ZELVIN - DEATH WILL GET YOU SOBER

Cover Up! You're Naked

2009-06-26T07:14:00.004-04:00

By Deborah Sharp

Here's my latest worry in a long list of worries: Am I over-exposed?

Not in the naked sense. More in the Paris Hilton sense . . . well, considering the sex tape, maybe Paris isn't the best example of the distinction. What I mean is am I too out-there? Between Facebook and Book Tour, my website and blogging, have I already mined even the most mundane details about me?

In the old days, authors used to keep a modicum of mystery. Look to J.D. Salinger for the extreme: No published work and nary an interview in a half-century or so, and they're still talking about him.

I started thinking about this when a small arts & culture magazine in my home state of Fla. assigned a writer to do a profile of me. Great, right? Publicity! I was suitably thrilled.

Until the writer asked me to share ''some details no one has heard ... something new.''

I'm only on Book 2. But already my back-story --- Former USA Today reporter, burned out on the news biz, started writing funny mysteries blah, blah, blah --- has become a bore.

So, either I dig really, really deep for something more interesting; or I start making things up. I'm leaning toward the latter:

Me: ''Did you know I was launched into orbit as part of NASA's Journalist in Space program?''
Reporter: "Really?? Wow!''
Me: ''Yep, the earth looks like a blue marble from way up there.''

As members of the Florida media for many years, my TV reporter hubby and I know journalists around the state. I've been lucky to get some stories out there on my funny, Fla-set Mace Bauer Mysteries. But in the process, have I become eye-rollingly predictable? Oh, please. Not her again!

When I was a cub reporter in Fort Myers, Fla., one local artist (nameless here) was a relentless self-promoter. He managed to get the News-Press to write about him even in the absence of anything newsy: "Artist X has begun to think about a new project . . . ''

Finally, the editor enacted an X-ban: ''Unless X is shot during a crack deal gone bad while he's dressed in drag, we're not writing another word about him.''

Which gives me an idea of ''something new'' to share with that writer for the art mag:
''Did you know I used to be a crack dealer?''
''Wow! Really?''
''Yep. I shot a man in Fort Myers once. I was dressed in drag . . . ''

What about you? Are you out there promoting, Paris Hilton-like? Or are you holding on to your mystery, Salinger-style?

Late Again

2009-06-25T14:02:00.006-04:00

Apologies for my late arrival today, I've been limping around trying to meet some writing deadlines. I say limping because a few days ago I tore the meniscus of my right knee in a freak trampoline accident (don't ask), so now I'm brandishing a cane and hobbling around my office. I'm told these things can be repaired (I'll find out more at a doctor's appointment today) or can even heal on their own, but I'm neurotic enough to fear the worst.

Maybe they're going to put me under and turn me into a cyborg. If they install a better processor in my brain so I can write faster, I'd be OK with that. That is one of the ironies of the writing world. When you're first trying to get published it seems to take forever. Years, perhaps, to write the manuscript. Months to find the right agent. And once the book sells, publishing moves at its own glacial pace, so the book your editor is really excited about, the one you just sold, won't hit the shelves for at least another year. Patience is not a virtue in my book, but stamina surely comes in handy.

But once you're on the publishing treadmill, deadlines loom and time seems to speed up. I'm still in denial that it's June, even though my new novel JUMP is on the shelves and I'm touring, but it hasn't registered because I had these grand plans to finish my next manuscript by now. I was going to tackle two or three other writing projects by the Summer, as well, but now that it's arrived I'm revising my forecast for a Fall delivery. And yet, if I really sit down and look at a calendar to remove the days of travel, family trips, editing, and conferences, it's practically September. Suddenly this slow-moving industry has me sprinting towards a finish line, which only becomes the starting line for the next race.

Have to get this leg fixed, because I really need to pick up the pace.

Do You Read Books in Reverse?

2009-06-24T06:21:00.000-04:00

I belong to my neighborhood book club. Every six weeks or so, eleven of us get together at one of our homes and discuss the book that the meeting hostess selected. Yummy snacks and adult beverages are always available. Opinions fly freely.

A book club is a great place to find out what attracts some readers to a book and repels others just as fast. It’s rare for the entire group to agree on every aspect of a book. The first hint of trouble is usually that one of us didn’t buy into or like the premise of the story. Or worse, didn’t take to the main character.

In the course of these discussions, I learned some of the club members read the book’s pages out of order, most often when they can’t get into the story or find it confusing and want to know where the story is going. A few even admit to more than once reading an entire book in reverse page order—and enjoying it more that way!

This revelation was a shocker. I’ve only recently matured to the point in life where I am willing to put down a book I’m not enjoying. In many, many years past, I would read it to the end no matter what, maybe skimming along as much as possible.

But I always, always read the book’s pages in order. For me, it’s cheating to read the end first. If I read the last page first, what do I have to look forward to? I like a story where I wonder how it’s all going to turn out, where I’m reading to learn where it’s all going. I prefer the journey and a destination or two, preferably a surprise destination. So much the better if a little unexpected twist occurs at the end, where reading the pages out of order would ruin the whole effect.

Now let me give you a big hint: I try to write the kind of books I enjoy reading. To receive maximum value, For Better, For Murder should be read in the order the pages are numbered. If you pick up the book in the library or bookstore, read the back cover. Read the first few pages. Please don’t read the last page. If the storyline intrigues you after reading the back cover and the first few pages, take the book home and read the story from start to finish.

But if you read the last page first or my whole book in reverse, please keep it to yourself. This time I really don’t want to know.

What’s New on The Writing Front? So Glad You Asked….

2009-06-23T00:22:00.003-04:00

Keith here.

I leave for the East Coast and ThrillerFest on July 5 – that’s in less than two weeks.

Every few days my agent is sending 50-100 pages of my latest manuscript back to me with his comments neatly inserted by Word in the right-hand margin. I curse him as I read them, not because they are bad or misguided, but because he is hitting the nail on the head with each one. (I’m kind of sorry for cursing him now. He told me he’d come down with some illness and he’s accused me of voodoo powers.) Anyway, I’ve been busy rewriting at the local café that serves as my sanctum sanctorum. (Compadre Barry Eisler discovered me holed up there on Saturday. One can’t hide from him – he’s ex-CIA. OTOH, that means he can keep a secret.) My agent is supposed to have a polished manuscript in his hands by the time I board the plane.

But Friday I received the proofs of my next book, Smasher, from my editor at Midnight Ink. To stick to the publication schedule, which has it showing up on bookstore shelves in October, I need to review changes and make any necessary edits before getting on that plane. That’s priority #1.

In the meantime, the CPU between my ears is grinding away on a background task – coming up with inspiration for my next book. I do have a wispy cloud of an idea. But since it has a historical setting, I have research to do. On my East Coast trip, I’m flying first to Boston where I’ve made an appointment with an archivist to look at papers and correspondence relating to the people and period I’m interested in. He was quite accommodating even when I told him I was researching a novel. When I was in grad school in history, I used to love reading old letters, diaries, and meeting reports. We’ll see if I still do. And we’ll see if the archives inspire a plot.

I’ve never juggled three books at once this way. Jim Patterson must be able to handle a lot more than that (co-authors probably help,too), but then his brain is probably a later model with a faster processor and upgraded memory.

Facebook, Schmacebook

2009-06-21T19:52:00.003-04:00

I'm on Facebook as are many of my Midnight Ink colleagues and many other authors. No one's really clear on how much this social networking serves as a marketing tool, but we do it. And blog, and tweet, and stand on the street corner hawking our books. Trying to cover all the bases.

I like being on Facebook, although I do know now more about some people from high school than I did in high school when I saw them every day. I enjoy the photos of faraway nieces and nephews taken by friends who can't seem to stop taking pictures. I like hearing about the NY Times article I missed on the hive connecting Microsoft, Pillsbury cookie dough and Mr. Big.

Some people seem to use Facebook as a motivational tool. A virtual life coach. Eight days without sugar, a post will read. Working on my sixth consecutive day of zumba. Going on two weeks of 5000 words a day. I took my daughter to dance lessons, son to karate and wrote six scenes in the car at stop lights. Folks around me are writing more, eating less sugar and torturing their bodies in ways I can't imagine.

But it's sanitized, suitable for PG viewing version of our lives, isn't it? We only talk about the positive things. It's easy to begin to feel inadequate on Facebook. My updates aren't as witty as his, nor as inspirational as hers. I get grouchy when too many people wish me good morning or happy mother's day. Maybe it's time for a bit more honesty.

FB status updates you never see. I ate six donuts and could throw up right now. I washed my child's mouth out with soap for saying a bad word. I changed lanes six times in a quarter mile, sending a middle-aged woman in a Prius onto the shoulder where she belonged.

I robbed the Seven Eleven. I embezzled two thousand dollars from my employer to pay a gambling debt. I went to the Bunny Ranch for the weekend.

I'm not going for a walk. I won't make this deadline. I'm watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey marathon. Again.

What about you? What Facebook status update would you like to see?

Inkspot News - June 20, 2009

2009-06-20T06:11:00.001-04:00

G.M. Malliet will be at the Deadly Ink conference in Parsippany, NJ, from June 27 to 28. Lincoln Child is the conference's Guest of Honor and the Toastmaster is Jeff Cohen. A review of G.M.'s latest book, Death and the Lit Chick, appeared in the June 14 Denver Post.

And Now, Live from the Closet with the Sump Pump--

2009-06-18T23:20:00.003-04:00

I don’t know if any of you have ever sold a house, but if you haven’t I have one word of advice: Don’t. It’s a major pain in the tushy. First of all, you have to fix all those little things you’ve let slide. Our house is for sale in preparation for our move to Washington DC, and I’ve been sharing my home with a constant stream of workmen. One particularly memorable day, I had a radio interview at the same time we had someone trimming our bushes, putting drywall in the garage, and fixing a small chip in our granite countertop. And of course, there were the cleaning ladies. You can't sell a dirty house.

Now radio hosts are pretty good sports, but they really like to hear their guests. They’re picky about it, actually. So, for the sake of peace and quiet, I took the phone into the farthest corner of our finished basement, the dreaded storage room with its closet built over the top of the sump pump. There, in blissful silence, I joined the queue for the recording.

Ten minutes to air time. I decided that a little Down Dog action was a good idea. Then I moved into Child's Pose. Nothing like a good yoga pose to get you focused and relaxed. Except I forgot that the carpet in the backroom hasn’t been cleaned in years. So. as I rested my head on the floor, my nose started to run like a water spigot.

Five minutes to air time. I needed a box of tissues…fast. I jogged out of the storage room. I made it up the stairs. I dodged the cleaning woman pushing the vacuum sweeper. Ducked into a bathroom. Pulled out tissues. Ran back downstairs.

Three minutes to air time. I am panting like a dog and mopping my nose. Time to review the interviewer’s instruction sheet. There it was: “We might ask you to read from your book.” Crud. Who knew I needed a copy of Cut, Crop & Die? I raced out of the storage room. I tucked the phone under my ear and searched my desktop, which looks approximately like a paper recycling bin after a tornado hit it. Found the book. Ran back to the storage room.

Two minutes to air time. I forgot my reading glasses. I run back upstairs. The man fixing the granite wants to discuss it with me. I can’t stop. He’s being paid $175 for a house call to fix three little chips. I pause long enough to watch. To one chip he applies the tip of a Sharpie black marker. Then he spits on it. Oh, goodie. This is more than I wanted to know about granite repair.

One minute to air time. I race back down to the storage room. I lock the door. I hear the host talking.

30 seconds to air time. A dull roar begins overhead. The cleaning ladies are now running the vacuum on the wooden floor directly above me. I could be standing behind a jet at Lambert Airport and it would be quieter.

15 seconds to air time. The doorbell is ringing. The dogs are barking in the next room. They are determined to protect the home that won’t be theirs much longer.

5 seconds to air time. I can’t even hear myself think. There’s the barking, the doorbell, and the roar of the vacuum overhead. I look around frantically for a quiet spot. I have only one option.

I gave an entire radio interview standing inside the closet with one foot on each side of our sump pump. Need I share that it smelled like a sewer?

Nah.

You know, being an author is really glamorous stuff. Or so I’ve been told.

Information Dumps and How to Avoid Them

2009-06-18T05:00:00.001-04:00

‘Information dump’ is one of those terms that’s so descriptive, I could tell right away what the editor was talking about the first time I heard it.

You know how it is…you’re writing and you’re probably trying to get this character clear in your mind and so you describe him. Ad nauseum. Here’s an info dump on Uriah Heep (pictured): He had orange, Tang-colored hair, a pointed chin, and a tall stature. His whole demeanor was suffocating and cloying in nature. His jerking, clumsy walk and repulsive manner was decidedly off-putting. He was tall and pale and his … blah, blah, blah.

The problem is that readers don’t really like to have a huge amount of information dumped on them all at one time. But gosh, it’s easy for us writers to pen it in. We’re trying to picture our character and want to recreate this picture for our readers.

At the same time, as a reader, I don’t like being introduced to a character and not have at least a general impression of him. Is he old or young? Is he educated? Attractive? What’s his relationship to the protagonist? If I can’t find out this information quickly, I start shuffling through the pages to try to find a description so I can at least have an idea who this guy is.

So…what can we do? What’s just the right amount of information and description and what’s the best way to share it with the reader?

The best method seems to be a combination of direct and indirect characterization. With direct characterization, you provide the reader with the information (this is the blond hair, blue eyes, devilish grin part.) Direct is the ‘telling’ approach. With indirect characterization, you let the reader draw their own conclusions: based on character dialogue, his internal musings shared with the reader, and other characters’ observations about him (the ‘showing approach.’ )

Showing is definitely the more time-consuming of the two, but I like it better. It’s a great way to mislead the reader, too—nice if you want to make them think a character should be admired and then later have the character’s true colors show.

On a personal note, this is my first blog for Ink Spot. Thanks to everybody for welcoming me into the group!