Wetting The Baby's Head

I witnessed the birth of my third child on Monday.  Working Stiffs weighed in at 10oz and 8 inches long from head to toe.  Not a bad size and weight all things considered.  Sadly, I wasn’t there for the arrival when the FedEx stork dropped off the package.  I was at the World Horror Convention and I had to hear the news from Julie.  She ripped off the packaging to tell me all was in good shape and that it looked wonderful.  When I got home, the first thing I did was reopen the package so that I could smell the baby-fresh scent of a brand new book.  For an author, I don’t think there’s a smell like it.  It’s a combination of fresh paper and glue that hasn’t had the chance to breathe in the air.

Although I joke, bringing a book into the world isn’t much different from bringing a child into the world, although I won’t have to send it to college or pay for its wedding.  There’s the conception—that first spark of passion when the idea for the book is born.  The excitement builds as the story grows from an idea into a story and the page count swells.  It’s not long before it actually possesses a shape resembling the embryo manuscript.  The editing process refines its shape and it starts to resemble the story I wanted to make.  Then before I know it, it’s reached the end of its first trimester. 

Then my baby enters a tricky stage as I search for a publisher and/or agent to assist with the birth.  This can be a long and treacherous route filled with disappointment and setbacks, but I always have faith regardless of the passage of time.  I know it has to happen.  It’s happened before.  And it does.  Someone shares my love for my book and offers a contract that carries my baby through to its final trimester.

This is the most nervous of times.  Everything looks sound enough, but I’ve experienced things going wrong.  Publishers can change their mind.  Circumstances can change.  And I have to keep a careful eye on developments.  But with Working Stiffs, there were no such troubles.  Compared to my first two children, this book went to term with few problems.  It arrived on the day they told me—a first. 

Now that Working Stiffs is born—and did I mention it’s a fine looking kid—I still have a lot of work to do.  Like any proud father, I have to show this baby off.  Anyone and everyone who stops for more than two seconds is going to hear about how wonderful my baby is.  I know it may bore some, but I can’t help it.  I really love this one.  This isn’t to say that I like this one any better than the others.  Well, that’s what I tell my first two books.

And what kind of father would I be if I didn’t break out the baby pictures?  So here’s a picture of baby Working Stiffs.

So it’s cigars all round and I hope you’ll enjoy Working Stiffs as much as I do.

Simon Wood

Take a Break

NAOMI HIRAHARA

When I first took over the editorship of a small newspaper for a period of six years, a freelance graphic designer noticed that I never ate lunch sitting down. Or even ate lunch at all. I was on a coffee-Coke diet (two to three cups in the morning and then a Coke at about 3 o'clock) and proceeded to drop about 10 pounds, which proves that you can lose weight with any weird combination if you eat only one square meal, dinner, a day. (My face also became very pasty-colored, not very attractive at all, so this weight loss program--which was not intentional--is definitely discouraged. And I'm happy to also report that I've gained the weight back and then some!)

The point is, I was and am still a bit intense. Driven. Maybe even neurotic. When I'm in the rhythm of work, everything else fades away. Papers remain unfiled. Clothing unfolded. Bills unpaid. As you can imagine, this is not good, especially when you live with other people and are in charge of the finances.

Somehow the promotional work of a writer gets to me more than the writing does. There are e-mails to answer, ARCs and books to send, interviews to respond to, bookstores to visit. (This for no pay!) And since I was a journalist and a p.r. specialist, I know that timing is everything. So after a book comes out, the running begins and doesn't quite end until two months later.

This past Friday was my birthday. So how did I decide to celebrate? By working at events from 7:30 a.m. to about 9 p.m. The night before, a library event from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. (I'm factoring travel time here, too.) And on Saturday, a panel in Westwood and then an event in Arcadia, a total of 80 miles and nine hours. All of this activity took its toll. By Saturday night, I was like a piece of raw flank steak, beaten to a pulp. I couldn't enjoy my supposed birthday dinner and the play that followed.

So on Sunday, after celebrating Mother's Day with the family, my husband and I decided to escape. We drove down 60 miles to San Juan Capistrano, stayed the night, and then went to San Clemente to sit on the beach. I didn't visit one bookstore or write one word. My husband and I sat across from each other and shared three meals together. We talked about what was going on in our lives in between the signings and event mailings.

Writer Alice Walker talks about the importance of "fallow" time, allowing your creative mind to rest as ideas take root down below. While we writers are all on that hamster wheel, attempting to keep our careers alive with new books and new promotional strategies, the "work" can extinguish the light that drew us to writing in the first place.

I'm a slow and stubborn learner, but I am learning. I'm off tomorrow to San Francisco and Las Vegas for four book related events. While I've added drive-by signings on the itinerary, somewhere on the calendar needs to be some "do-nothing" time. As much as writing deadlines need to be met and books promoted, there's also a time to sit down, rest, and just eat.

SPAM AND FOOTBALL: Hirahara Central received this from Lois Reibach from Blue Bell, Pennsylvania: "My mother made sandwiches called Touchdowners that had ground Spam, grated cheese, and pickle relish mixed together, then put on a hamburger bun, wrapped in foil and the packet was heated. She got the recipe out of some magazine or newspaper for things to eat while watching football on TV. This was over 40 years ago and I still remember them fondly." Lois has since lost the recipe, so if you have it, e-mail it or any other of your Spam memories to nhirahara@juno.com. For more information about the inaugural Mas Arai Spam Contest, see http://www.naomihirahara.com/contest.html.

A SPECIAL THANKS TO ISHIHARA-SAN AND COMPANY: The SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN book event at the Japanese American National Museum on May 6 was made all the more special by a performance by Hiroshi Ishihara and members of his musical troupe. I'm posing with a snakeskin shamisen, but it's all for show! (The only stringed instruments I learned to play badly, very badly, are the guitar and the cello.)

News Flash! MAS ARAI GOES BIG PRINT: The Mas Arai mystery series got its first license this week–a large-print deal with Thorndike Press. The first title, SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI, may come out as early as this fall. FYI, dear librarians!

AND FINALLY, A LOSS OF A CIVIL RIGHTS LEADER: Sweet Sue, rest in peace and may your work live on.

QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

"Hi, I'm Deni and I'm addicted to American Idol."

"Hi, Deni."

"I think Randy Jackson needs a dictionary, Paula Abdul needs an intervention, and I love to hate Simon Cowell. In fact, as we speak, I'm creating a story character with Simon in mind."

What? You authors who read Murderati don't have a famous [or infamous] person in mind when you write your books? My bulletin board is filled with magazine cut-outs of Famous/Infamous People, whom I use as book characters.

Anyway, Beatrice -- who, as we speak. is attaching garters to her stockings a'la Betty Boop and begging me to remind you that her paranormal erotica JAMES DEAN AND THE MOONLIGHT MADNESS SALE is at Loose Id -- thinks there should be a reality show called AUTHOR IDOL. Authors would stand in the spotlight, flames flickering on a screen behind them, and read an excerpt from one of their books. They'd be judged on stage presence, what they are wearing, how they styled their hair. . .and maybe even a wee bit on what they read. The numbers to call -- to vote -- would be superimposed underneath. After the reading judges would comment. . .

To those of you who don't watch American Idol, I'll bring you up to date. We're down to what is known as the 3F (three finalists). The Chosen One (TCO) -- the chrome-domed singer whom the judges have been "pimping" since the first week -- was voted off by the viewers last week in what was referred to as a "shocker!" [Note the exclamation point; it's been used in everything I've read about last week's show.]

It wasn't a shocker! to me. Maybe that's because, as an author, I deal with something called motivation.

So, why did TCO get the boot? [you ask]. What was the shocking! motivation? Well, he gave a mediocre, also known as "meh" performance, but so did the gray-haired finalist who looks like a drunken lounge singer and/or constipated ballad singer. The "nice guy" finalist, who is 90% deaf in one ear, sounded a little bit like a goat, and the "pretty girl" singer forgot 4 seconds worth of lyrics in her first rendition of an Elvis song. [Whereupon, she was accused of "shaking her ass" to get votes because during the FOUR SECONDS of forgetfulness she turned around toward the band while she regained her composure].

When TCO "rocker" Chris was voted off, the judges were shocked!, I tell you, shocked!, but only a little less shocked! than Chris himself. Could his votes have mistakenly gone to another contestant? he wondered.

Immediately after the Wednesday night results show, women on the Internet Forums began to vilify the pretty girl, as if the Supreme Court had chosen her to advance to the next round, despite votes to the contrary.

[Yes, okay, I'm addicted to "American Idol forums" too, especially the forums on a site called televisionwithoutpity.com. I like to read the comments. It's research. I have two teens in my mysteries and I need to know the latest slang - heh!]

Since the pretty girl, Katharine-with-an-a, is obviously not TCO [rumor has it the producers want a guy to win], the Idol judges have enjoyed a sadistic, almost orgasmic gratification in trashing her performances. They especially like to embarrass her. Paraphrasing the judges: Randy: "That just didn't work for me, dawg. It was kinda pitchy." Paula: "Mumble, mumble. . .the moth finds the melon finds the corn flake. . .mumble." Simon:"With that performance, you'll be going home."

As soon as Simon said Katharine would be going home, I knew she was safe. As soon as Paula stared lovingly at Chris and said, "See you in the finals," I knew he was toast.

Which brings us once again to motivation. What the Idol judges, especially Simon, don't seem to understand is that Americans like to root for the underdog -- on TV, in movies and in books. Millions of people dialed in for the pretty girl, not just because she's pretty, but because they felt she was too harshly judged. Millions more voted for the nice guy, who has been the acknowledged underdog from the very beginning. I don't know why millions of viewers voted for the lounge lizard -- I'm still trying to figure that one out -- but the fact that he's the recent pick of a website called votefortheworst.com might have something to do with it. Or maybe it's because viewers confuse frenetic giberish [he forgot the words in his first Elvis song, too] and spastic dancing with enthusiasm/exuberance.

I was going to talk about gender -- do girls vote for the boy singers and vice versa? -- and tie it into the age-old debate: Do men buy books written by woman and, for that matter, do women buy books written by women? Or can men really write from a woman's POV [and vice versa]. But I'll save that for next week's Quibble.

Over and Out,
Deni

Why Blog?

by Pari Noskin Taichert

Murderati is a little more than a month old now. It's a perfect time to reflect on, well, just about anything.

Me? I've been thinking about blogs and why authors take time away from writing their novels to pen nonfiction on a regular basis.

Part of my recent interest stems from discussions on various listservs where reader-respondees avow that they've never read blogs, won't consider looking at them, and never will. I've also encountered authors who are adamant in their disapproval of this new form of communication -- as if it's a cheap or stupid way to spend time.

There's also the sheer number of web logs; it's enough to make your jaw drop on the floor and slink out of the room. In his missive summing up blog activity for the 1st quarter of 2006, David Sifry, founder of Technorati, brings up several points. Here's the one that caused my oral catastrophe: "On average, a new weblog is created every second of every day."

Sheesh. That's just too many to think about.

In an entirely nonscientific way, I decided to ask around to see what authors might have to say on the subject. I posted on listservs and got responses from folks I know and some I don't. My questions were:

1. What were your goals for starting/participating in a blog?

2. Has the blog met those goals?

I'll admit -- given my 20+ years working in pr/marketing -- I thought I knew the answer to question #1. Obviously, people blog to sell their novels. This goal, I was certain, was misdirected. M.J.Rose has written extensively on the pitfalls of creating blogs solely for this purpose on her own blog. Still, I knew my cohorts in mystery marketing had it all wrong.

Picture me with raw egg inching its way down my face and plopping onto a nice new silk blouse . . .

" . . . Our books are listed in a side panel, so there is a little PR there for them, but he [Eric Mayer] feels a blog people visit to read for interest is better than one set up purely for advertising." Mary Reed

"Well, if someone like my agent, or my editor, or perhaps my mother asks why I spend time blogging, I would, of course, assume an air of virtuous industry and explain that it is a form of promotion . . . a way to connect with my readers between books . . . " Donna Andrews adds with a grin in her tongue-in-cheek comments.

"I started a blog because I imagined my readers wanted to get to know me as a person, at least a little bit . . ." Charlaine Harris

Samantha Ling notes the same goals. Sandra Ruttan, whose book won't come out until this fall, is making all kinds of great contacts even as I type. She started a blog simply to begin to log her experiences trying to get published.

So, yeah, I think that connecting with readers -- telling them what you're up to, what you're thinking -- is, indeed, a form of promotion. It's a good method to build community and loyalty. However, it's pretty subtle; you're not going to fill any off-shore bank accounts this way.

Authors gave additional reasons for blogging. Ami Reeves comments that blogging gives her ". . . an outlet to do some 'fun writing' (i.e. Who cares if it's not perfect? I don't have to sell it, there's no pressure)." That's also why author and publisher Dindy Robinson does it.

Like them, I like having to write nonfiction on a regular basis. It hones my skills and keeps me fresh. (Harley Jane Kozak also commented on this, but more about her in a sec.)

Blogging also creates community amongst authors (who, lest we forget, had better be readers, too). I know this is true of my experiences with Murderati. Both Harley Jane and Judy Clemens find this satisfying. Judy writes, " . . . It's also a great way to link to other authors' blogs and help other authors in that way. Another fun thing has been to have guest bloggers . . . hopefully it's a nice little plug for the guest."

Marcia Talley brought up a practical reason for blogging. She posts about trips, her reactions to life and about family. "For this kind of stuff, the blog is perfect, because it allows me -- through a blog link on my webpage -- to keep my info. fresh and current without having to go through my web maven."

But, do you know the number one reason the authors blog? It's why I blog too -- even though some of my topics (this one, for example) take a hell of a lot of work.

FUN. Yep. That's it. That's what authors kept telling me. Blogging is fun.

"I started my blog four years ago this coming August," writes Bill Crider. "I did it for my own amusement . . . Doing the blog is fun for me, and that's the only reason I do it."

Frankly, I hope that blogging increases the number of people who've heard of me -- of all of us at Murderati -- and everyone else who takes the time to post their thoughts/experiences/perspectives on a regular basis.

But even if it isn't doing much of that, it's still a blast.

------------ Enough of the serious stuff.-------------

I got blogtagged by Donna Andrews last week and since I can only respond on Mondays . . . here it is. Unfairly, I'm tagging my listmates -- other than J.T. because she already did this on Friday.

4 movies you would watch over and over

    The Little Princess (The most recent version: I love the scene with the Indian servant and the little girl greeting the wonder of the snow.); The Princess Bride (Wit, period.); Fanny and Alexander (What a visually rich, emotionally layered movie.); Spirited Away (I can't get enough of this marvelous animation.).

4 places you've lived:

Tours, France; Hong Kong; Ann Arbor, MI; Takoma Park, MD.

4 TV shows you love to watch:

Medium, Law & Order SVU, reruns of Roseanne, Without a Trace.

4 places you have been on vacation:

Carlsbad, NM; Morgantown, WV; Macau; Antibes, France.

4 of your favorite foods:

Japanese squid salad, green chile, dark chocolate, bulgoki with kim chee (damn, I'm getting hungry).

4 websites you visit daily:

Nope. I don't have four. I use Google daily and visit Murderati as often as I can . . . everything else is much less consistent.

4 places you would rather be right now:

Actually, I adore New Mexico . . . but I won't cop out on this. Antibes, France (eating fresh strawberries, overlooking the Med. Sea and hanging out at the Picasso Museum); Virgin Gorda (snorkeling); Washington, DC (at the Freer); Puerto Rico (swimming at night in Phosphorescent Bay)

4 people who you think will respond (sorry, guys)

Deni Dietz, Naomi Hirahara, Elaine Flinn, Jeff Cohen (he answered some in J.T.'s comments--but not all), and Simon Wood . . . Okay, that's five . . . but they didn't know I was gonna do this.

cheers,

Pari

Here's Why I Lost

Jeffrey Cohen

This past week, I did not win the Gumshoe Award for best mystery novel of 2005. This is not terribly unusual, as I did not win the Gumshoe Award the previous week, either, or any other week since, roughly, birth. So it didn't strike me as a tremendous surprise that I didn't win.

The difference was that this year, my book AS DOG IS MY WITNESS was actually nominated for a Gumshoe Award, and so the possibility actually existed that it could have won. That was a surprise. I was actually shocked to have been nominated, as my work isn't what you generally think of in the same sentence as the word "award." And yet, there it was, in pixel and white, on the Mystery Ink web site. In fact, there were only five people on the planet who were eligible to win said award this past week, and I was one of them.

That's something in itself, don't you think?

Don't worry: this isn't going to be a diatribe on how unfair it all is, and how I should have won the award, but it's all politics. Because the fact is, I understand precisely why DOG didn't win the award, and Laura Lippman's TO THE POWER OF THREE did.

The main reason my book didn't win was that it actually was not the best mystery of 2005. I don't know if Laura's book was--it's entirely possible, but I honestly haven't read every mystery published during the year, so I can't say for sure--but I know it wasn't mine.

This is NOT to say that AS DOG IS MY WITNESS isn't a good book. I think it's my best so far, and truly believe that it accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do: it sets up a tricky mystery, develops the characters in the Aaron Tucker series a little more, has a good number of laughs (which is always my objective) and gets in a little covert information about Asperger Syndrome, the high-functioning form of autism that Aaron's son shares with my own. Not a bad few hours read. I'm proud of the book, so don't think this is a pitch for the Smallest Ego in the Publishing Business Award, which I also would not win.

The thing is that DOG isn't meant to be the Best Mystery of the Year. A few people who read it might think it is--as my daughter says, everymovie is someone's favorite--and I'm certainly not going to argue with them. But it's not designed to be a huge statement about the human condition (other than to touch lightly on people responding to differences in others), the most astonishing thriller since Alfred Hitchcock gave up the ghost and became one, or my answer to Dennis Lehane's most recent question, whatever it might have been. No, DOG was always intended to be a light entertainment and little more. An award for FUNNIEST mystery of the year? Yes, I'm egotist enough to think it should have qualified for that. But BEST? What the heck is BEST, anyway?

Now, I can hear loyal readers of this Sunday blog (hi, Mom! Happy Mother's Day!) ask, "hey wait a minute, Jeff: didn't you go on like a maniac just a couple of weeks ago about how comic mystery should be on an equal plane with serious mystery, and how it's unfair that nobody takes into account how hard it is to be good AND funny?" Yes, I said all those things, and I stand by every word (except "AND": who told it to be in all caps?). But strictly as a mystery novel, stripped of its humor, would DOG be the best of the year? Probably not. It's good, but it's not groundbreaking. It doesn't further the form. It is there to distract, to amuse.

Given the opportunity, would I have voted for AS DOG IS MY WITNESS? That's a whole different question (which you can tell, based on the fact that it's a separate sentence, and everything). Sure I would have; I'm no fool. That's my book, and I worked on it for a long time, and I think it works pretty well and besides, "Gumshoe Award Winner" would have looked nice on my next cover. Do I think other people should have voted for it? Wow, this is getting complicated. What's "best" is entirely too subjective. Can we have a list of rules please?

It gets back to the argument about comedy being on the same ballot as more "serious" pursuits. If you believe in competition at all--and let's face it, awards are fun--you have to decide whether there should be separate categories for funny mysteries. I think there should be separate AWARDS for funny mysteries, just to acknowledge the best writers working at making us laugh. But when it comes to a straight discussion of "best," I think the choice should be open to all genres and tones.

Is YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN a better movie than THE GODFATHER PART II? Probably not. It's a MUCH funnier one. Should it have been nominated for Best Picture ahead of THE TOWERING INFERNO (yes, THE TOWERING INFERNO was nominated for Best Picture; you can look it up)? Now, there you have me--yes, Mel Brooks' monster movie is better than Irwin Allen's. It was probably better than LENNY (another nominee, along with CHINATOWN, which probably should have won), too, and Gene Wilder was miles funnier than Dustin Hoffman.

But this is a little off the point, which started out on this week's award. I didn't expect for a moment to win the Gumshoe, but I'm thrilled to pieces to have been nominated. All those cliches you hear are true: being considered among Laura, Reed Farrel Coleman (whose parents should have kept their original last name), Denise Hamilton and Duane Swierczynski is plenty of an honor. The fact that a goofy mystery like DOG was nominated is progress. When I write the Best Mystery of a year, I'll be seriously ticked off when it doesn't win. But as for now, I can't tell you how nice it felt. I hope it feels just as good (or better) the next time I have a book published.

The next time they say "it's an honor just to be nominated," and you want to roll your eyes incredulously and comment on what a colossal fib THAT one is, think twice. It really is an honor, and I'm very grateful for it.

Meanwhile, since today is, indeed, Mother's Day, let's take a moment to consider and honor those who made the holiday possible. Naturally, I mean the flower and greeting card industries. Without them, we wouldn't be able to ignore our mothers for 364 days and still feel like we're good children. Hats off to you, flower and greeting card people!

My own mother (and you should know, if you're a fan of Freudian slips, that while typing the phrase "own mother", I almost wrote "owner," which is creepy) made sure that her young son (that was me) was a fan of books, had plenty of them around the house and, as I recall, never dissuaded me from reading any of them. She has introduced me to some of my favorite authors (thanks for Irwin Shaw, Mom!) and never fails to praise my work beyond realistic limits.

I'm sure that when she reads this post, it will annoy her that I said AS DOG IS MY WITNESS wasn't the best mystery of the year. For her, it was. And if there's any greater praise for a mother than that, I don't know what it is.