And Lo, There Shall Be . . . An Ending!

By Tania Carver (Martyn Waites)

The first thing I should say is that Cage of Bones is out this week in the States. Yep, the new Tania has arrived at last. There’s a link to it here. Hope you enjoy it.

That’s a beginning. Everything else in this column will be about endings.

The other thing to say is . . . the new Tania Carver novel is finished. Well, not finished finished, but finished.  You know, for now. It’s been handed in. I don’t think books are ever truly finished. Even when they’re on the shelves and have been reviewed and read and translated and re-jacketed and reissued and everything else that goes with them, they’re still not finished. Because I don’t think they ever can be.

There have been times when I’ve been doing a reading at an event and have stopped dead in the middle of the bit I’m doing. Why? Because I’m not happy with it. Because there’s always a better way to say things. Better sentence structure. More apposite words. A much more interesting or evocative turn of phrase. Something that shows a character in a new and/or surprising light. A more subtle way of saying something. Something like that.  Anything like that. And it’s too late to do anything about it.

I once read an interview with the brilliant Peter Gabriel where he stated that he never actually finished anything, it just had to be taken off him. And he’s right. I think you reach a tipping point on piece of work you’re doing, whether that’s a book, song, movie, whatever. You can keep refining and refining and polishing and polishing only up until that point. After that . . . oh dear. It’s like you’ve built something and instead of standing back to admire it you keep picking at it until it all collapses. Not good. The trick is in knowing where that point is and stopping there. Hopefully I get it right. But I’m sure I don’t all of the time. I’m sure I’ve come in under or gone over on several occasions. I’m sure we all have. Because nothing is ever truly finished.

One of the ways in which I know I’m approaching the end of a novel (and not just because it’s building up to a climax) is because routine sets in. I’m sure everyone does this to some degree and I’m sure everyone’s is different. Yet also quite similar in its way.

I’ve been getting up and writing in the mornings. A sure sign that the deadline is upon us as I usually don’t do that until the afternoons. And I always start the same: five games of freecell on the computer then off I go. Then when I’ve done my word count I’ve gone for a lunchtime swim. Thirty two lengths is half a mile. Then I’m out of there. While I’m driving back and forth to the pool I listen to the same songs every time, all by Bill Nelson. Here’s one of them:

Back to the desk and hitting the word count. Then once that’s done I watch an episode of something on DVD. Usually Gangsters, a 1970s tv show set in Birmingham. Then, if I’m feeling up to it, some more words. Then bed.  That’s my day. That’s how I know I’m near the end. 

But just because I reach the end, as I said earlier, doesn’t mean its finished. It’s going to come from the editor with copious notes. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. They often know better than I do when something does or doesn’t work. Then rewriting. Then hand it in again, then proofing, copyediting, typesetting then, eventually, it’s on the shelf. And I’ll pick it up, look at it and think what I always think. I should have done that differently.

Because that’s the thing. I always start out thinking I will. And I never end up that way. At the beginning of a new novel I’m always chock full of hope. This one’s going to be different.  Bigger, better, more structured, nuanced . . . this is the one I’m going to reach my full potential with. Not only is it going to be the best novel I can write but also one of the best ever crime novels ever written ever. Why stop there? Best novels written, full stop. I can hear the Pulitzer winging its way to me now.

Of course that never works. I end up with what I always end up with. One of my novels. I like to think that each one is better than the last but I honestly don’t know if that’s happening. I’m never the one to judge. I’m just the one who has to have the book taken away from him in the end.

So there you go. Or, as Stan Lee used to say, ‘Lo, there shall be . . . an ending!’ 

Except with a lot more exclamation points.

So that’s me. Does anyone else have any little quirks or tics? How do you know when you're finished? Are you finished? Can we ever be finsihed?

Selling or Selling Out?

By Tania Carver (Martyn Waites)

Last week, the internet got itself into one of its all too frequent tizzies.  You probably don’t remember, as by the time this one blew over there was another one already brewing up.  Or several. Like the green-garbed supervillain outfit HYDRA in the old Nick Fury, Agent Of SHIELD comics. Cut off one head, many more will take its place. But this was one I got interested in. It was about the concept, and indeed practice, of selling out.

Now, selling out is something that’s been around as long as selling has. If not before. One of the earliest historical examples that I know of concerns Galileo. This is a very truncated form, as filtered through Bertolt Brecht’s version of events. As you probably know, Galileo worked out through his calculations that the world was in fact round not flat and that we orbited the sun, not the other way round. At the time the Catholic Church was running the show and he presented his findings to them. They objected, said it contravened what they were teaching. Contradicted their version of the word of God. If word got out about it they would lose their authority. Yes, argued Galileo, but the world is round and it orbits the sun. And that’s a fact. Fine, said the Catholic Church. You tell people that fact and we’ll have you killed. Okay, said Galileo. The world is flat and the sun orbits us.

Now, did Galileo sell out? Or did he take the prudent and sensible option in order to protect his own life? It’s easy to take a morally highhanded approach about this years later when your life’s not in any danger and say yes, he did sell out. But I like to think that he did what most of us would do presented with that situation. Compromise. Live.

Which brings us to the latest handbags episode on the internet. There was this: http://io9.com/5973921/how-to-write-fiction-for-money-without-selling-out-too-much

And then this: http://whatever.scalzi.com/2013/01/08/thoughts-on-selling-out/ If you don’t have the time or the inclination to read all that, let me paraphrase. A writer got annoyed by the fact that other writers were openly writing books to make money from them and gain readers. This, he saw, was a gross violation of what a writer was supposed to be doing. ‘What’s the point in writing,’ he said ‘if you don’t get to write whatever the fuck you feel like writing?’ Cue internet perfect storm.

This reminds me of a BA creative writing student in a university class I was teaching. I was chatting to them about writing, the craft of it, the art of it, the business of it, all that. One student, who clearly didn’t think I knew what I was talking about, piped up and told me I had everything wrong. That maybe what I was talking about was okay for me because I was writing crime fiction (Or possibly ‘just’ crime fiction. If he didn’t actually say that, that was his attitude.). He was going to be different. He was going to write what he wanted, when he felt inspired to do so. And publishers would be so grateful for him doing this they would offer him loads of money. He would then be a bestseller and get brilliant reviews. Yes, he said all this with a straight face, while sneering at my crime novels. I had two options – tell him the truth about what he had just said, or wish him the best of luck with his career. I wished him the best of luck with his career. This was a few years ago. At the time of writing this, the world hasn’t heard from him. Maybe he hasn’t been in a position to be inspired enough to be brilliant yet. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.    

I thought of him when I read all the pieces about selling out. I think it’s a tired, tired old argument and I really have no time for it, or for the kind of writers who argue in its favour. I don’t care if they’re well known or obscure.

So let’s look at this. What actually is ‘selling out’? What does it constitute? Well, the naysayers would have you believe that selling out means prostituting your art in order to reach a wide audience. Or a wider audience. Or any audience, even. Diluting your talent just to sell books. Just? Just? What else are we supposed to be doing? Sorry if that comes across as blunt and to the point. But there you go. I can’t see the point in a writer toiling in obscurity, writing their heart out (sometimes literally – stress and chest pains are all part of the job) just to be ignored. Or not published. Or left unread. What’s all the pain been for if no one else will ever read it? And why should it be seen as diluting? It’s just accepting a challenge to do something differently. If you regard whatever talent you have as something so rigid and immobile it can’t be bent into different shapes or used to see other perspectives, then it’s not much of a talent, is it?

Ah yes, the artist writer would say, my work is pure because it is not commercial. Because it is not popular. And therefore it is better because of it. And my response would be, ‘Tell that to Charles Dickens’. As everyone knows, Dickens wasn’t just hugely popular in his day, he was also regarded – and still is – as a literary giant. Popularity and literature are not mutually exclusive things.

Want a (slightly) more recent example? Or several? Jim Thompson. David Goodis. Charles Willeford. These men all wrote for money and they wrote fast. They didn’t deny it, didn’t try to hide the fact. They worked in the paperback original market, the most commercial of commercial part of publishing. They didn’t apologise for it, didn’t make excuses about it. But they turned out some of the most extraordinary fiction of the Twentieth Century while they were doing this. Not every time, admittedly, but then neither does Jonathan Franzen. I’m sure you can find examples of your own to use.

Did any of these writers compromise in order to be published? Probably. Did any of them say the world was flat when they knew it was round? No. I don’t think so. They did what the best writers always do. They communicate shared truths about the human condition from writer to reader. They just happen to do it in the guise of hardboiled novels of suspense. Could they be considered sell outs? Only by the more precious. What they actually did, was sell. And in huge quantities.

Now having said all this, I’m sure you can tell which side of the line I come down on. Because seriously, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. But then I know why I write. Or most of the reasons.

I write crime fiction, for the most part. I write thrillers and mystery. Do I think I’m selling out if I want to sell? No. I know the market I’m working in. I’m not naïve or under any illusions. I write the kind of books that I hope people want to read. Should that mean I’m writing the kind of books I don’t want to write? Of course not. Why should the two things be mutually exclusive?

I accept the genre conventions. I know that they’re there for a reason. There has to be a beginning, a middle and an end. And the end has to satisfy. The murder – if there is one – has to be solved. The reader has to feel like they haven’t wasted their time. Like Chekov’s gun – if it’s there in the first act it’s got to be fired by the third. I know all this. I knew it when I made the contract. And not just with the publisher but with the reader too.

But, and here’s the bit the artist writers have trouble with, am I compromising what I want to write? I don’t think so. I’m telling the stories I want to tell in the way I want to tell them. At the same time I’m accepting market conventions because I want the books to sell. It’s still me writing them. It’s still me in them. My heart, my head, my life. I still want to write about the truth of the human condition. I just want to entertain people with a crime story at the same time. I think this is something we all do and accept, irrespective of what line of work we’re in. You could make the most brilliant computer the world has ever seen. But if you’re such a purist you refuse to make a keyboard to go with it you may as well not have bothered.

I want my work to be read. There, I’ve said it. And if they’re honest, so does every other writer who has ever written or ever will write. Unless there’s something wrong with them. My friend, the brilliant Christa Faust, summed the whole thing up perfectly on Twitter last week: ‘As a proud pulp hack, I don’t get the whole selling out thing. Why shouldn’t I use my skills to make a living?’

Why indeed?

And then she aced it with this: ‘It’s easy to make high falutin’ “art” when mom still does your laundry. The rest of us need to pay our own bills.’

Perfect. I’m sure even Galileo would agree.

The Wildcard Tuesday New Year Interrogation

Zoë Sharp

The first moon of 2013

Welcome to the first Wildcard Tuesday blog of 2013, and an enormously Happy New Year to you all. For this I asked a few lighthearted questions of fellow ‘Rati past and present, and below are their answers. I hope you find them worthy of a giggle.

(As a small aside, I started off searching for sensible author pix, but what I’ve actually ended up going for are the silliest pix that came up on the first page of a Google Images search on that author’s name.)

ALLISON BRENNAN

Where did you choose to celebrate the holiday season this year?

Home, as usual.

What would have been your ideal location?

Home! (Though, I would have liked to have gone to Disneyland right after Christmas ... maybe next year!)

What was the best—or worst—gift you've ever received?

My husband once gave me an electric grout cleaner. Needless to say, I never used it.

The best—or worst—meal or item of food you've been served—or served to others?

The absolute best Christmas dinner we've had was when I decided to cook prime rib instead of the standard turkey or ham. It was pricey, but oh-so-delicious! I think that was back in 1997 ...

What's your idea of the Christmas From Hell?

Traveling for Christmas.

Looking back, what was your favourite moment from 2012?

Watching my oldest daughter graduate from high school—and hearing her and the Seraphim Choir sing the National Anthem. They were amazing.

I'm not going to ask about New Year's resolutions, but do you have one ambition, large or small, you'd like to achieve in 2013?

Walk daily, meet my deadlines, don't sweat the small stuff.

And finally, what book(s) have you brought out this year?

Two Lucy Kincaid books from Minotaur/SMP—SILENCED and STALKED; a short story in the anthology LOVE IS MURDER; an indie published novella MURDER IN THE RIVER CITY.

And what's on the cards for the early part of 2013?

A Lucy Kincaid novella in March (RECKLESS), and two more book STOLEN and COLD SNAP. Plus a short story for the NINC anthology and maybe another indie novella. If I have time.

DAVID CORBETT

Where did you choose to celebrate the holiday season this year?

Home alone, if "choose" and "celebrate" are the correct verbs. Mette arrives on the 28th, so things should get merrier at that point.

What would have been your ideal location?

Buenos Aires. Ireland. A beach in Mexico.

What was the best—or worst—gift you've ever received?

Best gift I ever "received" was one I gave. As a gag gift I bought my late wife a red flannel union suit with a button seat flap that she absolutely loved. Slept in it all the time. Cozy as hell. Damn, she was happy.

The best—or worst—meal or item of food you've been served—or served to others?

When I was a kid one of my classmates' families came over during the holidays and brought cookies that literally made me gag. I picked one up, sniffed it like a cocker spaniel, recoiled, and put it back. My brother started bellowing, "You touched it, you have to eat it." Unfortunately, King Solomon (my father) agreed. I almost upchucked trying to get it down.

What's your idea of the Christmas From Hell?

Oh, let's not go there.

Looking back, what was your favourite moment from 2012?

A weekend in San Antonio for the wedding of one of Mette's dearest friends, when I got introduced to the inner circle. Also, the moments when I read the cover quotes I received for THE ART OF CHARACTER. I was incredibly humbled and grateful so many writers I respect said so many kind and generous things.

One ambition, large or small, you'd like to achieve in 2013?

Make the new book a success, and wrap up the novel I'm working on to my own persnickety satisfaction.

And finally, what book(s) have you brought out this year?

Open Road Media and Mysterious Press re-issued all four of my novels in ebook format in 2012, with a brand new short story collection titled KILLING YOURSELF TO SURVIVE.

And what's on the cards for the early part of 2013?

The new book, THE ART OF CHARACTER, comes out on January 29th, 2013 from Penguin.

ALEXANDRA SOKOLOFF

Where?

New Orleans.

Ideal location?

It's hard to top New Orleans.

Best/worst gift?

Well, there's this pretty spectacular amethyst necklace...

Best/worst food?

I've served many a bad meal to others. For everyone's sake I stopped trying to cook long ago. Personally I don't care much what food gets served, but I do remember one Christmas morning in London with blackberry jam on waffles and whisky for breakfast. The blackberry jam ended up all sorts of places and it was all very lovely.  I could do that again.

Christmas From Hell?

It's hard to narrow that down, actually. Endless scenarios spring to mind. I hate being cold, though, so winter is perilous.

Favourite moment from 2012?

For public consumption, you mean? The general reader response to HUNTRESS MOON has been a real high.

One ambition in 2013?

I'd like to find a really wonderful place to live.

Books this year?

My crime thriller HUNTRESS MOON, a boxed set of three of my supernatural thrillers called HAUNTED, a novella called D-GIRL ON DOOMSDAY in an interconnected anthology with three other dark fantasy female author friends: APOCALYPSE: YEAR ZERO. And I got several backlist titles back and put them out as e books at wonderfully affordable prices: THE UNSEEN, BOOK OF SHADOWS, THE HARROWING and THE PRICE.

And for 2013?

The next book in my Huntress series comes out in late January:  BLOOD MOON. My next book in the paranormal Keepers series, KEEPER OF THE SHADOWS, comes out in May.

I'm selling my house in January and buying another as soon as possible, probably in California.

PD MARTIN

Where?

Every year we have Christmas Day at our home (in Melbourne) and then go down to the Mornington Peninsula (seaside) for most of January. It's the hottest time of year here in Oz, so it's great to be near the beach. We stay in a 1970s holiday house my grandparents bought in 1972, and given I spent summers down there as a kid it's particularly special to now be going down there with my children.

Ideal location?

The Peninsula is pretty good :) Although we've always said that one year we'll do a white/winter Christmas in New York or something.

Best/worst gift ever received?

Best gift I ever received was actually for my birthday this year—my Kindle. I'm a complete convert to the point where I can't imagine ever reading a 'real' book again. I prefer the Kindle reading experience for some reason.

Best meal?

I am biased, but I make a mean Tira Misu. I got the recipe from a chef and it's divine! And great because you make it a day or two before, so it's one thing to cross off the food preparation list early.

Christmas From Hell?

Mmm....I guess having to run around. You know, multiple visits. We do that a bit on Christmas Eve, but I enjoy the fact that then on Christmas Day we just kick back. We start with oysters at midday, then it's prawns (yes, on the BBQ), then an Asian style salmon fillet dish then Tira Misu (at about 4pm). Then a movie!

Favourite moment from 2012?

That's easy for me—picking up our son, Liam, from Korea and making our family of three a family of four :)

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

I've got a few books I'd like to finish. And hey, a best seller or a lotto win wouldn't go astray either.

Book(s) this year?

THE MISSING (two short stories), WHEN JUSTICE FAILS (two short true-crime pieces), HELL'S FURY (new book in spy thriller series), and two novels for younger readers that I've released under the pen name Pippa Dee—GROUNDED SPIRITS and THE WANDERER.

What’s next?

Probably what I've been doing the past few months—juggling motherhood and writing...and feeling like I'm going to crack under the pressure! 

JT ELLISON

Where?

Nashville and Florida.

Ideal location?

A family trip to Italy would have been fun.

Best gift you've ever received?

I got engaged during Christmas 1994, so that ranks up there....

Worst meal?

Italy, Cinque Terre, a large full fish the size of a cat, with its baleful eye staring up at me... I swear the thing was still breathing. Ugh! 

Christmas From Hell?

There's no such thing. I love Christmas.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Seeing my DH in his gorgeous new kilt for the first time. *fans self*

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

I want to learn how to paint. In oil, large canvas abstracts. 

Book(s) last year?

A DEEPER DARKNESS, EDGE OF BLACK, STORM SEASON

And for 2013?

Writing, writing and more writing. Deadline January 30!

 MARTYN WAITES (half of Tania Carver)

Where?

At my in-laws. The kids wanted to go to see all their cousins. They love a big family get together. As for me, I'm pretty bah humbug about it. I don't care where I go or what I do or whether I get any presents or not. As long as I get to see Doctor Who, I'm happy.

Ideal location?

Somewhere abroad. Morocco would be good. If they were showing Doctor Who.

Best/worst gift ever received?

I've been lucky enough to get plenty of presents. I can't think of specifics in terms of best or worst, but for me the worst kind of gift is the thoughtless kind that someone has put no effort, time or care into. The best ones are the ones you absolutely want. Even if you don't know you do until you get them. I was lucky enough to get one of those this Christmas.

Best/worst meal?

At Christmas? It's all the same. I'm not a fan of Christmas dinner. Or any roast dinner for that matter. I eat it, but that's because it's what you do at Christmas. Like getting into water and swimming. The best meal I was ever served was at a Persian restaurant in Birmingham in 1988. It involved chicken and pomegranates and I've never tasted anything like it to this day. The restaurant disappeared soon afterwards in a kind of Brigadoon fashion and I sometimes wonder whether I actually went there. As for bad food . . . loads. In fact, it probably outnumbers the good food. That's why I try to remember the good ones.

Christmas From Hell?

Being forced to spend time with people I hate. That goes for the rest of the year as well. And not seeing Doctor Who.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Well, I wrote about my favourite cultural things on the last Murderati post—Y Niwl and the Hammer films retrospective—so they would be there in a big way. But other than that, it was something very small and personal that I'm afraid I couldn't share and that I doubt anyone would be particularly interested in.

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

I do. I can't say anything about it in case I jinx it, but it will be the culmination of a lifetime's ambition. Or at least I hope it will.

Book(s) this year?

CHOKED, the fourth Tania Carver book came out in September in the UK. THE CREEPER, the second one, came out in the States. There have been other editions round the world and I think Russia finally got round to publishing my 2006 novel, THE MERCY SEAT.

And 2013?

Finishing the new Tania, THE DOLL'S HOUSE, which I'm uncharacteristically quite pleased with. Although it could all go horribly wrong. And then there's the afore(not)mentioned secret project . . .

GAR ANTHONY HAYWOOD

Where?

At the family's new home in Glassell Park, which we moved into in October.

Ideal location?

At the family's new home in Aspen, Colorado, which doesn't exist.

Best/worst gift ever received?

The best was a dictionary.  It was given to me many years ago by a wonderful woman who at the time was my mother-in-law to be.  She knew I was an aspiring writer and gifted me accordingly, which, oddly enough, no one in my immediate family had ever thought to attempt before.  I still own that dictionary, too.

Don't get me started on the worst gifts I've ever received.

Best/worst food?

The best, far and away, is the egg nog my godfather makes over the holidays. It tastes great and man, does it have a kick to it.

Never been given a fruitcake as a gift, and I pray I never am.

Christmas From Hell?

I think I actually experienced it last year.  Attended the worst Catholic midnight Mass possible: cornball music, pointless sermon, and theatre lighting (the service was being video-taped) that would make a mole cover its eyes.  Awful.

Favourite moment from 2012?

The family's spring break vacation in the Galapagos.  Unbelievable!

One ambition for 2013?

Completion of a manuscript that a conventional publisher buys for a tidy sum.

Book(s) last year?

Didn't have a book published this year, though my Aaron Gunner novels were re-released as e-books by Mysterious Press/Open Road.

And for the early part of 2013?

Early?  Maybe my first book for middle-graders, which my agent is shopping now.  Later in the year?  With the grace of God, a publication deal for my first Aaron Gunner novel in almost 10 years.

STEPHEN JAY SCHWARTZ

Where?

Stayed at home with the wife and kids—enjoyed the beach and the beautiful Southern California weather.  Played Scrabble and hung out in cafés.  Enjoyed a big meal of matzoh ball soup and tofurky.

Ideal location?

Ireland.  Clifton or Dingle, to be precise.

Best/worst gift ever received?

I haven't paid attention to holiday gifts for a long time.  I think the worst gift I ever got was for my bar mitzvah—it was a belt buckle.  No, actually, perhaps the worst was the beer stein my father gave me for my high school graduation.  This, instead of the car I had my eyes on.

Best/worst item of food?

Probably that tofurky we had last week.

Christmas From Hell?

Again, tofurky takes the price.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Seeing my son come back healthy and happy after a two-month hospital stay in Wisconsin.

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

Main ambition—work to live a creative life, 24/7.

Book(s) this year?

Move along, nothing to see here.

What's on the cards for the early part of 2013?

Move along, nothing to see here either...

BRETT BATTLES

Where?

The first half I spent in a hot, tropical location with my feet in the water, a beer nearby, and a Kindle in my hand; the second half at home in L.A. with my kids, my parents, and my sister and her kids.

Ideal location?

Nailed it this year.

Best gift ever received?

This year I got the complete set of Calvin & Hobbs from my parents. It was perfect!

Best food?

I made a pretty awesome ham this year that was juicy and delicious. Hmmm, I'm craving leftovers right now!

Christmas From Hell?

Not being able to spend time with my family.

Favourite moment from 2012?

It was a pretty good year all around, so one event...? Going to San Diego for a week with my kids and parents was pretty damn fun!

One ambition for 2013?

Just more of the same ... write, travel, and spend time with friends and family.

Book(s) last year?

2012: THE DESTROYED (Quinn #5), PALE HORSE (Project Eden #3), THE COLLECTED (Quinn #6), and ASHES (Project #Eden #4)

And for 2013?

At least four more novels (hopefully five), including a secret collaboration I can't quite talk about yet.

TESS GERRITSEN

Where?

At home. With family.

Ideal location?

Exactly the same place.

Worst gift you've ever received?

An orange pantsuit.  I mean, really. My husband has not bought me anything orange ever since. (I’m guessing it didn’t look like this, then, Tess? ZS)

Best/worst meal?

For Christmas?  Not one bad meal sticks out.  On Christmas, everything tastes wonderful.

Christmas From Hell?

Being stuck in an airport. Far from family.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Standing on the Great Wall of China, with my husband and sons.

One ambition, for 2013?

To finally plant a vegetable garden that the deer can't demolish.

Book(s) out last year?

LAST TO DIE was published this past summer.

And what's on the cards for 2013?

Early 2013, I am headed to the Amazon River.

PARI NOSKIN TAICHERT

Where?

At home in peace. No requirements, no expectations. I just let myself be.

Ideal location?

The only other place I can imagine being this calm and relaxed would be Antibes . . .

Best gift?

Probably the best gift I've received so far is an essay my younger teen wrote about a difficult incident we shared last year and how it has taught her empathy. Made me cry, it touched my heart so.

Best/worst meal?

The best meal remains one brunch I had in Puerto Rico: fresh flying fish brought in that morning from a catch in Barbados, steamed bread fruit, Barbadian yellow hot sauce, fresh mangos picked minutes before from a tree just steps from where we ate.

Christmas From Hell?

I think it would be one filled with efforts to make it perfect, so many efforts that they'd hit the tipping point and tumble down to the other side of happiness.

Favourite moment from 2012?

The one where I finally realized I'm going to be all right, that the trials of this last year may continue . . . but they're not going to pull me down into the depths of despair anymore.

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

Yes.

1. I'd like to e-publish the book that "almost" sold to NYC. It's the first in a new series and I'd like my character to meet readers and vice versa.

2. To continue to explore my creativity in whatever ways it's now manifesting, to give myself permission to let it fly.

Book(s) last year?

Nothing in 2012. I've been in hibernation for many reasons including the whole copyright issue and the divorce.

And for 2013?

To begin writing again and to enjoy it . . .

ZOË SHARP

As for me, I also spent Christmas this year with my family, which was where I wanted to be.

My ideal would probably have been a ski-in/ski-out chalet somewhere with plenty of snow. Not necessarily for skiing, but definitely for sculpting. I never did get to finish that Sphinx …

As for my ambitions for 2013, to find a life/work balance and to continue to improve my craft.

And books? In 2012 I brought out two e-boxed sets of the first six Charlie Fox novels, plus several short stories, and of course, DIE EASY: Charlie Fox book ten.

In 2013, DIE EASY is hot off the press in the States. I’m also editing two new projects—a supernatural thriller called CARNIFEX, and a standalone crime thriller called THE BLOOD WHISPERER, as well as working on the first in a new trilogy, the first in what I hope will be a new series, a novella project I can’t say too much about yet, and—of course—Charlie Fox book eleven. That should keep me going for a bit :)

So, it only remains for me to wish you all an incredibly Happy New Year, and to thank you for your comments and your feedback during 2012.

The Eternal Typo

By David Corbett

Looking for Pari? Fret not. We’ve traded places this week, since I’ll be in the air ...

... heading to New York on Wednesday. Look for Pari’s post then.

* * * * *

My first two novels and a brand new story collection are coming out in ebook format tomorrow through Mysterious Press and Open Road Media.

Open Road and Mysterious Press have also re-issued the works of fellow Murderateros Gar Anthony Haywood, Martyn Waites, and Ken Bruen. Click on their names to see the books available.

I’m particularly jazzed about the story collection, for it includes a new story not previously published, the eponymous “Killing Yourself to Survive;” plus “Pretty Little Parasite,” which was included in Best American Mystery Stories 2009; “The Axiom of Choice” (a personal favorite), which appeared in Strand Magazine; “It Can Happen,” which was nominated for a Macavity Award and has been optioned for a film; and several other nuggets that have appeared here and there but have never been collected in one place.

I’ll let you know how to track down the books below. For now, in celebration of the re-issue of The Devil’s Redhead, let me tell you about the most embarrassing—and perversely resilient—goof-up in any of my books. (So far. That I know of…)

On page 301 of The Devil's Redhead hard cover edition (page 313 in the mass paperback), you will find this curious phrase: "sandstone palavers."

In isolation, it has a certain surreal/dada/Lewis Carroll quality. If only that were what I’d intended.

I wish I could blame some drudge in the bowels of Random House, anyone but myself. Note to aspiring writers: Never edit when you're blind with grief.

The word I wanted, of course, was "pavers," a word I'd never heard until my wife, Terri, used it as we were choosing tiles for a rehab job on our back porch.

Part of the word's charm was her usage, a kind of giddy almost childlike pleasure that she brought to everything. And when it came time, a few years later, to describe a Monterrey-style décor in a Mexican hotel, it seemed the mot juste.

Except my brain couldn't find it. It rummaged around in "similar sounding" bucket, and came up with "palavers." I knew this was wrong, and mentally earmarked the spot for revision once the right word came to me. Unfortunately, it never did.

The reason? By the time of this rewrite Terri had died of cancer. The manuscript for Redhead was purchased by Ballantine six weeks before her death, and I reworked the passage in question after her passing.

She was forty-six, the love of my life, and I was devastated. Anyone who knows that kind of grief knows it turns your mind and memory to slop. The simplest things confound you. Both the inner and outer worlds acquire a smudgy dullness, as though wreathed in a leaden haze, and the only light you see comes in lightning bolts of helpless pain and rage.

Such was my state of mind when the copy-edited version of the manuscript reached me.

When I came to the page in question I saw the copy editor had corrected it, but had been so baffled by my misuse, so unclear on my intent, that she changed it to another inappropriate word, with a question mark in the margin. It felt like a violation, given the word's link to Terri, her happiness, but I still couldn't conjure the right word myself. I stetted angrily, once again hoping that before I returned the pages the correct word would come to me. Then, of course, I forgot.

I forgot a lot of things back then.

The typo has proved to be as immortal as a Transylvanian count. In edition after edition, even in the U.K., the lousy little monster remains. (God only knows how the Japanese translation must read.)

I promised myself that, should a new edition appear I would finally, once and for all, erase this blight from the book. But when I sold the rights to Mysterious Press, I didn’t have a Word document I could go in and change at will. All I had was a PDF. But that allowed me at least to place a strikethrough mark on the telltale “la” that turns “paver” into “palaver.” I wrote a note pleading that this error be addressed in the final version of the ebook.

We shall see, said the blind man. I'm not, as they say, holding my breath. Typos, unlike the rest of us, are eternal. And who listens to the author anyway?

I'm sure somewhere, Terri is chuckling way. This is what I deserve, she no doubt thinks, for losing my temper. I wish I could tell her: Oh baby, I know. I know.

* * * * *

So, Murderateros: What’s the worst in-print gaffe you’ve committed, and have you been granted a dispensation, given the right to go back in and tweak the little sucker? Or does it sit there still, a troll beneath the bridge of your otherwise perfect prose?

* * * * *

Now, for a bit of TBSP [Tediously Blatant Self-Promotion]:

Here again is a little author profile video that the team at Open Road Media put together to help publicize the launch.

And here are links for purchasing the books:

The Devil’s Redhead 

Done for a Dime

Killing Yourself to Survive

If you haven’t yet tried my work, give one of these babies a spin. I’m proud of each of these books in different ways. I’d be honored and pleased if you decided one of them was worth a look.

* * * * *

Jukebox Heroes of the Week: I’m choosing two, one for each of the first two novels. Music always figures prominently in my books, and these two tunes were signature pieces for Redhead and Dime respectively: Rickie Lee Jones with “We Belong Together,” and Charles Mingus with “Moanin’:”

ARCHETYPAL AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!

For a while now we’ve been putting on our collective thinking cap, trying to imagine who would be the best new addition to Murderati, to add but another unique voice to the mix (and spare Pari her Herculean every-Monday schedule). As we tossed various names around, one name kept popping up over and over: Tania Carver.

Only one problem. Tania Carver, well, doesn’t exist. 

At least, you can’t shake her hand—or borrow a fiver from her. But she’s alive and well as the pseudonym for husband-wife writing team Martyn and Linda Waites.

I first met Martyn at Bouchercon in San Francisco, and we shared a pint or two (but who’s counting) in St. Louis as well, so I was given the welcome task of, well, welcoming him and Linda aboard. I was beyond thrilled when they agreed.

Martyn, author of nine books himself (The Mercy Seat is one of my all-time favorites), got the idea of teaming up with Linda when a daring proclamation of chutzpah to his editor proved much harder to pull off solo than he’d thought. He needed Linda to seal the deal. And Tania Carver was born. (For the whole story, check out their website.)

The tale just gets better—Ms. Carver became an international bestseller.

The series features Detective Inspector Phil Brennan and psychologist Marina Esposito, and the books are set in Colchester, “a large town in the north of Essex, almost in Suffolk, [that] was once the capital of Britain but was destroyed by Boudica and the Iceni in revolt against the Romans… There are ghosts of crimes and the echoes of ghosts of crimes down the centuries. It feels like a modern, well-connected, rational city occupying the same space as an old, isolated, superstitious town.” The fourth novel in the series, Choked, comes out this year.

So, if you would please, put your hands together for the one, the only, quasi-existent Tania Carver.

David Corbett

And here she is / they are . . . Tania Carver!

Well.  I’ve just been to see The Avengers.

What?  That’s how they’re starting?  After that great build up David gave, that’s the first line?   Yes.  It is.  Well, OK.  Maybe I should explain a little more.  It’s Martyn here, half of Tania Carver.  The tall, male half.  If you’ve been to Bouchercon, as David will attest to, you’ll have seen me in the bar.  If you’ve been to virtually any crime fiction event you’ll have seen me in the bar.  And out of the two of us I’m the one with the thing about superheroes.  Which is why I’ve just been to see The Avengers.  Linda didn’t fancy it so I took our daughter along as my human shield and no one could feel uncomfortable about the middle aged man wearing a Jack Kirby t-shirt sitting on his own at a kids film.  As it was, it was just my daughter who felt uncomfortable about that.  It’s a good job cinemas are dark.

Anyway.  I digress.  I loved it.  What a fantastic film.  I wasn’t bored once.  As a lifelong comic book reader (and aspiring writer of them - still) it was everything I hoped it would be.  There were the characters I grew up with, whose adventures I’d religiously followed every month, whose imaginary lives I became completely intertwined with, up on the big screen, fully fleshed out and in action.  Avengers assembled, indeed.

And the cinema was just about full, which was heartening.  And not just with kids, but with middle-aged people like me, some of which hadn’t brought along their own kids as human shields and were shamelessly enjoying the movie on their own.  And that got me thinking.  Why would a whole load of middle-aged people turn up on a Saturday night to watch what is essentially a kids film?  Is it just childhood nostalgia for seeing brightly-coloured characters fight each other?  Or simple, uncomplicated escapism at its most reductive?  Is that it and nothing more?

So was that why I was there too?  Was it just a way to fill in a couple of hours with spectacle or was there something more to it.  Naturally, being a writer with a tendency to over-analyse, I found something more.  Something that could be reduced to a (deceptively) simple phrase: ‘Follow your bliss.’

If anyone reading this knows where that comes from then they’ve most probably read Joseph Campbell.  If you’re not familiar with him, here’s a brief introduction.  He was a writer, best known for his studies in comparative mythology and comparative religion in relation to the human psyche.  His most famous works were The Masks Of God, The Power Of Myth (where the ‘Follow Your Bliss’ quote comes from) and the book that brought him to my attention, The Hero With A Thousand Faces.

It’s difficult to summarise Campbell’s work in a few sentences but for the sake of brevity I’ll give it a go.  He believed that all the human cultures of the world, dating back millennia, shared a common mythology.  Common stories, in other words, that were broken down locally to be told and retold.  The myths of Eastern and Western religions, he argued, came from the same source and were just different interpretations of those stories.  But these stories had one thing in common: they were narratives that not only addressed the human condition but allowed people to understand it and, in many cases, transcend it.  ‘Truth is one,’ he said, ‘the sages speak of it by many names.’  He combined this research with contemporary philosophical interpretation, especially the work of Carl Jung’s archetypes, by which time he thought that the telling of myths and stories had passed from religious speakers to artists, filmmakers and novelists.  His work can be looked on as a repository for every story type there is.

George Lucas discovered this after he’d made the first three Star Wars films.  He screened them for Campbell who agreed that everything he’d said was, coincidentally, up there on the screen.  After that, it was open season on Campbell’s ideas.  Everybody claimed them.  Filmmakers from Disney’s The Lion King to The Matrix, novelists, songwriters.  Even game and theme park designers.

Which brings us back to The Avengers.  What does that movie have to do with Campbell?  Well, more than you might think.  Let’s look at the story.  There’s a great evil.  Some heroes are brought together to combat that evil but, for various psychological reasons, they don’t think that they’re up to the challenge.  They then have to put aside their differences and conquer their own fears to face the enemy, defeat it, and in doing so learn truths about themselves that will make them better people.  It’s a classic mythic structure: challenges, fears, dragons, battles and the return home as a different person.  It’s a template that I imagine every single writer has used.  More than once.

I’ve often thought that superheroes were more than just juvenile escapism.  In the right hands they become the contemporary equivalent of, say, Greek mythology.  Or Medieval morality and mystery plays.  But it doesn’t just apply to superheroes.  We might, as writers, think we’re trying something new, something that’s never been attempted before.  We’re not.  We’re just shuffling the words around.  Admittedly some do it with such style and skill that they create scenes, characters and novels that make it seem like those words have never been used that way before while the rest of us just sit and take notes.  But they’re still following Campbell’s archetypes.

‘There are only seven songs,’ Michael Stipe of REM once said (and I may be paraphrasing slightly here), ‘and we do four of them quite well.’  Campbell’s work shows us that like songs there are no new stories and I doubt there ever will be.  Because there doesn’t need to be.  We have the same kinds of songs, we just have different kinds of singers.  When we write, we’re using the same narratives as the Greeks, as the Romans, as Cervantes, as Poe, as Dostoyevsky.  As James Joyce.  As Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.  We use the same structures whether we call them by the names Campbell used or not.  Campbell would say that’s down to localism, where we are in the world and how we’ve interpreted those stories.  Where – and how – we’ve been taught or influenced.  Whatever.  All that matters is, we’re all doing the same thing.  Whether we’re writing about superheroes or private eyes, crinolined young women or knights in armour.  We’re all trying to tell stories in our own ways that, in their simplest forms, are doing the same things now that they’ve always done.  Making audiences - making readers - laugh, cry and think.  Connecting.

And in doing so we’re all, hopefully, following our bliss.