Okay, picture this:
There’s this great dinner club. It’s run and attended by some of the smartest (and of course, most beautiful) people you know. Successful, funny, generous people. For years, you’ve hung around outside the club, just outside the red velvet rope, sharing a word or two with the men and women entering and exiting just to get a sense of how cool it would be to be one of them. And then, one day . . .
They invite you inside. Offer you membership. Give you a key to the front door.
Now you’re at the club every other week, meeting new people, making new friends. Telling stories your audience finds fascinating, cracking jokes everyone laughs at (well, almost everyone). Slowly but surely, you’re finding your place in this rarified crowd, developing a sense of actually belonging here. Life is good.
Now picture the club owner choosing this exact moment to shut the joint down.
Say what?!
Welcome to my Murderati experience. Just when I was starting to really have fun, the lights go out — for good.
Was it something I said?
This has been a fantastic writers’ blog, and it was one long before I ever came onboard. One thing I think has always set it apart is its almost total lack of a promotional focus. For all the writers, big and small, who have held a place on the Murderati roster over the years, few have shown more than a passing interest in salesmanship. The emphasis here has always seemed to be on telling great stories about the writing life, rather than hawking literary merchandise.
I’d be lying if I said holding up my end of the Murderati bargain every two weeks (plus again every eight weeks for Wildcard Tuesdays) has always been easy. It hasn’t. I spent more than a few nervous Tuesday and Monday nights banging my head against the wall seeking to shake a post topic that didn’t suck loose for the next morning. But overall, I had a blast, and I think I wrote a post or two I can be proud of.
In fact, I think that’s how I’ll leave you all: With a brief list of my favorite Murderati posts:
LIES MY FATHER TOLD ME (THAT TURNED OUT TO BE TRUE)
THAT’S INCREDIBLE! (AND THAT’S THE PROBLEM)
SORRY, OUR MISTAKE, WON’T EVER HAPPEN AGAIN
Thanks for the memories, people. And a special shout-out to Pari and J.T., who threw this party in the first place. You guys are the best.
Take it away, Dandy Don.
I'll miss the posts here, but it's been fun. Dandy Don's a great way to bring the curtain down.
I think you had more to be proud of than those posts, Gar. And hey, at least you made it inside. Some of us have been toiling away just waiting for that first book to break through just so we could feel like more than part of the audience. And like everyone else who's posted here, your stuff has made an impact on making my stuff better. So much so that I am begining to have real confidence in my writing. That's a testament to what I've learned from ALL the Murderati.
For that I'm grateful. Thanks guys. (oh, and you still suck for quitting…even if you rule)
Garth
Imagine the club closing before you ever got inside. Sigh. Murderati was an aspiration as well as an inspiration. Seriously, it was good to hear your voice, and starting reading your books (although Cemetary Road was as bleak as some of Corbett's books….). I met you for the first time at Stephen's reading at the Beat Museum in SF and that may have been before you started. Great columns, better banter and a wonderful network of folks. See you at the bar.
Bill, great to hear from you.
Jake, also great to know that you're feeling so much better about your work; that's wonderful.
And, Allison, I had no idea Murderati was an aspiration . . . argh.
Gar, I have a feeling you've always been one of the people who belong in that cool smart crowd. But your analogy seems apt, since it felt like I was just starting to get to know you. Thanks for all the great posts over here — there were a lot more that fit that definition than the short list up there. I'll miss hearing your voice.
Pari, I'm with Allison. You'd be surprised by how many of us fantasized about that happening someday, no matter how unlikely.
Bill, Jake & Allison – Thanks for the kind words. Good to hear my posts were as much fun to read as they were to write.
G
Gar:
You always made me feel a little less alone out in the blogoshpere. Our voices are distinct but I felt a kinship, and it made it easier to think up things to say and ways to say them. I feel for you coming on somewhat late (like Phillipa and I), only to have the joint close. But you made an incredible contribution. I was always proud that I shared Wednesdays with you.
And Cemetery Road is brilliant.
Hasta luego, compadre. I'll be seeing you:
Corbett
Jeez, Corbett, this ain't a funeral. I'm still here and so are you. We'll be fine.
And I feel the same way about your contributions to Murderati as you do about mine, only more so.
Thanks, pal.
G
I'm in the dungeon again. *sigh*
And I've been on my best behaviour. Maybe that's the problem…
Trying again:
Gar, I have a feeling you've always been one of the people who belong in that cool smart crowd. But your analogy seems apt, since it felt like I was just starting to get to know you. Thanks for all the great posts over here — there were a lot more that fit that definition than the short list up there. I'll miss hearing your voice.
Pari, I'm with Allison. You'd be surprised by how many of us fantasized about that happening someday, no matter how unlikely.
Thanks, KD.
Gar, you've been a wonderful addition to our motley crew. Thank you for always finding something cool to talk about.
Gar, I feel much like you, only from a reader's point of view. There was a heightened level of engaging intellect here, as well as feeling. And to me it feels odd to read some of the statements by those who found it troublesome and just a big chore. I don't blame anyone for feeling like that. A feeling is a feeling. I have my own feelings that are just as valid. I don't ask writers to blog. I see what I like, and I participate, as best I can.
xoxo
God, what a love-fest. I hope you girls are done crying already. And by girls I mean you, Haywood and Corbett.
You know I loves you.
And didn't you get the memo? It was all just an April Fool's joke.
Reine –
On a more serious note, we all love the blog, and we all love the freedom it gave us to share our thoughts with the friends we made in the process. While finding time to blog, or inspiration to blog sometimes, I don't know if any of us really considered it a chore. But we do consider it an obligation, and often that obligation came at a time when writing deadlines were due, or when personal or professional issues became sudden priorities. For me, personally, I just can't keep up the pace while trying to write another novel. I would've had to pull out anyway. Or gone down to one blog a month, which puts stress on the other authors to find a replacement author who could take up the slack. Ultimately I think we all just realized that we have to give ourselves permission to move on, so that we can put in the time necessary to keep the writing going. I'm going to desperately miss this place – it's the only place I have where I can express my full range of feelings and know they will be received by like-minded people (like you) who care about what I have to say.
Stephen, of course. I do really get that. What I was trying to say, and did not succeed at, was that when feelings are strong innocent and true comments are often misunderstood via the emotional link. I know what it's like to have writing deadlines. I should just shut up now and leave the goodbyes for others, because I am not doing a good job of it.
Just know I love each of you and all of you.
<3
Don't stop the goodbyes, Reine. You're part of the scene here.
I'm such a social klutz, I wouldn't know when to go away anyway. I'll probably be here banging on the door after you're all settled into your writing nooks.
I keep picturing you writing in Starbucks.
xo
And it happens just as I was settling in to enjoying your voice, Gar. Here's to meeting up in other times, other places.
Thanks for your time in the club. Like Allison I harbored a vision of someday getting in the door, but the time I spent here was time well spent. It was too bad we didn't meet in person at Stephen's launch at the Beat Museum, but there are always other conferences. Maybe next year at Left Coast Crime in Monterey.
Gar, sorry for the name typo and extension. Overcome with grief perhaps? Or iPhone issues while I am at a conference in DC more likely. Or some of each. Corbett chatised and I apologize. Anyway, I'm glad I still have a few more of your books to read.