Hey, There's A Dead Guy in the Living Room

Endings and beginnings

Lynne Patrick

 

That’s it, then. Over for another year. Mother safely delivered home, daughter driven back to the beautiful city where her life happens, as the world slowly cranks itself back into normal motion. Plenty of festive reminders around the place, of course, and I don’t just mean the tree and tinsel: far too much chocolate and marzipan, a deep freeze drawer full of turkey soup. (Yes, folks, this year I actually got around to simmering the leftovers for two hours and throwing the results in the blender. Impressive or what?)

 

The final glass-clinking bit of midwinter ritual takes place tonight, then suddenly it’s 2009.

 

Time to reflect a little. Where did 2008 disappear to? And did I use it wisely? I may not be the best person to pass judgement on that, but I’ll have a go anyway.

 

I try to exercise positive thinking whenever possible, so on the plus side:

• Five new titles added to Crème de la Crime’s list.
• A small breakthrough with one of the bookshop chains, a good relationship formed with several branches of another; fingers crossed for a knock-on effect from this, especially with our charity anthology.
• Some great reviews on both sides of the Atlantic.
• One title proved unexpectedly popular in the US, and sold out its print run.
• Our murder mystery evenings started to catch on; we averaged one a month over the year, and already have several bookings for 2009.
• On a personal level, I enjoyed a pleasant few days in Guernsey, two magical weeks in New Mexico, and an energising four days in Baltimore at BoucherCon; and among other inspiring reading matter I discovered the books of Phil Rickman and Julia Spencer-Fleming, and though neither my best friend nor my worst enemy could accuse me of having truck with organised religion, both Clare Fergusson and Merrily Watkins are on my list of fictional characters I wish were real people.
• And on a global level, amid the warring and bombing and starvation and economic gloom rose a shining beacon of hope, in the shape of a US president-elect who appears to have his head screwed on the right way.

 

There were probably minuses as well, but I try not to dwell on them.

 

And so into the new year. I don’t go in for crystal balls, but if I did, I think it would foretell the odd setback, a triumph or two (or maybe three, or even six or seven), a little bit of luck and a lot of the hard work which creates it. Business as usual, then.

 

When midnight strikes I’ll raise a glass to friends: old, new, present, absent, past and future. Success and happiness to you all through 2009 and way beyond.

Hail, and Farewell

Janet Reid

When Jeff Cohen asked me to be Miss Tuesday I was flattered. I said yes instantly. And it's been a lot of fun. 

I've enjoyed writing the longer format posts here (my other blog is more quick bursts of ranting and cursing!) and doing these posts has been good practice for trying to write cogently (ok, some of them are more cogent than others!)

But, it's been a year, and I'm running out of things to say.  Say, rather than complain.  Complaints I got. Profound thoughts, not so much.

I realized I couldn't just call Jeff up and say "I've run out of things to say, so long, see you at Yankee Stadium"  I had to say "I'm toast, but here's a new slice of pumpernickel for all your Tuesday morning breakfast needs."

And then, in a bolt of brilliance, a name came to me.

Barbara Poelle.  Barbara is more than a slice of pumpernickel. She's a saucy baguette and a raspberry croissant all served up into one delicious meal.  I adore her.  I envy her.  I admire her taste in husbands. I'm pleased as punch to call her my friend, my colleague and my replacement here at Dead Guy.

Barbara is responsible for many new phrases in my lexicon. "Monkey knife fight" is one of my favorites. I'm sure I'll be learning others as she writes here.  I'm looking forward to it. I hope you will come to love her as much as I do.

So, hail and farewell. Thank you for the opportunity to be part of this blog, and for reading my posts this year.  The best though, the best is yet to come!

Welcome Barbara!

Ten Best?

Jeff Cohen

You might not have heard, but 2008 is nearly over, and one of the real pleasures of this time of year is reading the "Top 10" lists from critics of books, film, television, music and David Letterman. It's enough of a joy almost to create a "Top 10 Top 10 Lists," but I'm too lazy, and besides, my book didn't show up on any of them, so the heck with these people, I say.

The two things that are interesting about Top 10 lists is that: 1. They're completely arbitrary, since they rely strictly on the taste of the reviewer and 2. They're remarkably similar. Everybody who gets into the critic business has the same taste, or they're afraid of being off the mark set by everyone else, so they play it safe.

You may exhale: I'm not about to offer a Top 10 list in anything today, or anytime soon. I wrote one when I was working for my college newspaper, and was roundly ridiculed (justifiably, in hindsight--I had included a Bad Company album on my music list). I've learned my lesson. Besides, the sad truth is, I don't see enough films, listen to enough new music or--yes--read enough books in the course of year to reliably offer anything approaching a view.

What I can do is offer a few highlights in all areas:

TV: 30 Rock, The Office, Chuck, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart 

TV I've decided to do without: Lost, 24. Enough, already.

Films: In theatres? I didn't go much. Saw Slumdog Millionaire on Christmas Day. It was good. I liked the new Indiana Jones, and everybody seemed to hate that, so you can't go by me. I have no interest in seeing Brad Pitt get younger to die, watching Leo and Kate reunite for a view of how horrible suburban life is, getting a rehash of interviews by David Frost or the Catholic Church via Meryl Streep.

Movies on DVD: I saw a LOT of movies that critics loved and I hated. Persepolis, Once, Smart People, The Darjeeling Limited, There Will Be Blood. Couldn't stand a-one of them. The Namesake was pretty good. Maybe this was my year to see movies about people from India.

Music: I'm not qualified. I'm still holding to my theory that rap is a passing fad.

Books: Get serious. If you think I'll list books by people I like only to omit other people I like, you're on some serious weed. Suffice it to say I find the trends in literary fiction toward pretense and navel-gazing disturbing. For that matter, I find the term "literary fiction" disturbing. In mystery novels, I like all the same people I have liked for years, and think I did a pretty decent job myself, although I certainly understand why my book won't appear on Top 10 lists. Even I wouldn't put my book on the Top 10 list, unless the list had something to do with how funny a mystery book might be.

For 2009: I believe my favorite pastime (that I can discuss in a family blog) will still be watching the New York Yankees play. In fact, I believe I will enjoy that more in 2009 than I did in 2008, but there are no guarantees. I will probably agree more with the administration in charge of our government, but then, that was pretty much a given, too. 

And I hope that everyone who stumbles across or reads this blog regularly has a lovely, healthy, safe, enjoyable year. At the very least. 

Here at DEAD GUY, we are sorry to see two of our own move on. The lovely and talented Janet Reid and Abby Zidle will post (or have posted) their last DEAD GUY blogs this week, and we'll miss them. It's always been a pleasure to read their honest, funny, insightful views of publishing. We wish them extremely well, and hope they'll still hang around to point us in the right direction when we stray off the path every now and again. Thanks, Janet and Abby. 

Taking Abby's place starting this Sunday, Jan. 4, will be Alison Janssen of Bleak House Books. Alison's taste and enthusiasm are legendary, and we're thrilled to have her with us. On Tuesday, Jan. 6, Barbara Poelle of the Irene Goodman Agency will be our resident agent, and she is not only a keen observer and participant in publishing, but an ex-stand-up comic, so her posts should be especially enjoyable. We welcome both, and look forward to seeing what they'll bring to our merry band.

It should be a fun year.

So Long (and thanks for all the fish)

Abby Zidle

It's been two years since Jeff invited me to join the Dead Guy crew; I've had a great time blogging and/or navel-gazing, but eventually even I have to stop talking about myself.  So this is my last post.

If I conveyed anything useful at all over my 100 or so posts (woo-hoo! now I can be syndicated, right?), I hope it's the knowledge that editors want only the best for their authors, even if success is defined somewhat differently from my side of the desk.  Or rather, that there are many successes to be achieved along the way.  Success is completing a manuscript at all.  Success is taking your writing seriously enough to scrap that novel, or at least put it in a drawer for a month or two before forcing yourself to begin the editing/reconstruction phase.  Success is having the nerve to share your novel with someone else; it's making the decision to publish.  Success is doing your homework and approaching the right agents, and it's continuing to approach agents despite a stack of rejection letters in your mailbox.  And of course, success is that moment you get The Call.

I'd like to thank all the other Dead Guys for their camaraderie and their wisdom--the publishing world seems much bigger to me now, but far less arcane.  As the least mystery-relevant of our contributors, I've always appreciated the chance to play in their sandbox, strewn with bodies though it may be.  I'll be reading, and no doubt mouthing off in the comments, and I look forward to reading the work of my editorial replacement. Thanks for letting me play some small part in making the publishing world...less of a mystery.

Why visit?

About two weeks ago a VP from St. Martin's e-mailed me and asked if he could "stop by" with author John Hart, adding (in case I was unaware) that Hart had won an Edgar.  I of course said, sure, come on over, and he then fedexed me several ARCs of Hart's new book, THE LAST CHILD, which I picked up thinking I might get through about half before a visit the next day.  I stayed up all night reading, finishing the book in the morning (and ther's nothing better than that) so I was excited to meet Mr. Hart & talk about his book with him.

We did indeed have a nice visit - my question, really is WHY, nice as it was, did the St. Martin's VP bring him by?  He's not planning on sending him to my store for a booksigning, they had also stopped at Borders.  The two guys browsed around and chatted and the VP even bought a few Hardy Boys books for his kid (and I made Hart buy Thomas Cook's RED LEAVES).  I think they were both intrigued by the more or less "antique" nature of our store, which is mainly - books.  We sell very few side items, and it feels like a used book store, especially in the back.

We also chatted about how the VP had figured out the break even point for a book signing - for him, 100 books, maybe factoring in 12 returns.  He didn 't factor in any other kinds of sales though and we talked about that.  We talked about how the book might sell a few copies before the event, and more after; how the bookseller was more likely to hand sell a book he or she had read and enjoyed, and simply meeting the author is often a sales boost.  As far as we're concerned we also run a review in our newsletter & on our website, a spot that gets lots of hits every month. 

I felt dismayed, though, since an event where we sell 100 (or 88) books is pretty rare.  With some books, over time, we sell that many copies, but usually not in one shot.  On the other hand, I read Hart's book and really liked it and no doubt will do my part to handsell it.  The rest is up to the customer, and at the moment, the economy.   As far as "publisher support" goes, "visiting" is on the odd side, enjoyable as it was.  I would rather host an event, but I sure wouldn't say no to another visit.

Till next week - Happy New Year in the meantime!  If you are like me you are grateful for neighbors who own a snowblower....

A flying visit

Sharon Wheeler

*Taps glass* Ladies, gentlemen and dead guys . . . unaccustomed as I am to public speaking . . . *Drops papers on the floor*. Ah, sod this for a game of soldiers! Let's forget the formalities . . .

Allow me to interrupt briefly your festive activities, whatever they may be, to wish you all season's greetings. I'm beetling off for two days with a pile of books stashed about my person. There's Joseph O'Neill's Netherland (I want to see how someone can mix 9/11 and cricket), the Killer Year anthology which has finally reached the UK, Akashic's new Paris Noir anthology (blimey, there are some French writers in there by the look of it!) and the new Dennis Lehane.

So enjoy your turkey, nut roast and mince pies, eat any chocolate that comes your way, and I'll see you on New Year's Day when I get to mull over my books of the year.

Your very good health, all!

What have I missed?

The cards were written, addressed and posted a week ago. The turkey’s ordered. The cake is made. The presents are bought, and most of them are wrapped. And my daughter came home last week. I’m almost ready for Christmas.

So why do I have the feeling I’ve missed out something essential?

Probably because I get the same feeling every year at this time. A doctor once told me he sees more women suffering from stress symptoms in December than the rest of the year put together. I think the main cause of the stress isn’t having too much to fit into too little time; it’s the sense that something will fall off the edge, and it will be the one thing that really needed to be done.

I’m feeling pretty much the same at work now I’ve started putting the word out about our charity anthology. What opportunity will I miss? Which TV producer or magazine editor would be willing to give it a roaring blaze of publicity – but won’t, because I’ll miss their deadline, or it won’t occur to me to get the information to them?

Getting this part of the job right always matters – but this time it matters more. It’s not just us and one author who lose out if I miss something – it’s a charity which helps a lot of people get through an experience which knocks them for six. There’s a whole lot more than usual riding on my promotion efforts.

Twenty-six authors have all given time, effort and energy to make it a success. The last piece of the jigsaw fell into place last week, when Mark Billingham, may he live forever in great joy and comfort, delivered the winner of the competition to find an unknown author whose story will sit alongside Val McDermid’s and Reginald Hill’s and a whole lot of other household names. (Actually it will sit between Zoë Sharp, author of the sparky Charlie Fox series, who is deservedly as popular in the US as over here, and Roz Southey, one of Crème de la Crime’s own most popular authors on both sides of the pond. The winner’s name is Caroline Shiach, and the stories are democratically arranged in alphabetical order according to author’s surname.)

That’s twenty-six people I don’t want to let down.

Fortunately I have help. Those twenty-six authors are all keen to do whatever they can to make it a huge success. In particular, the Crème de la Crime authors who contributed stories have all pledged their support with a whole series of events – and they all have plenty of chutzpah and determination to make their mark. Which is just as well, because that’s what we use instead of a big marketing budget.

The organisers of CrimeFest, which is fast becoming the UK’s answer to BoucherCon, have given us an evening slot at next year’s event. If you’re coming to CrimeFest, you’re invited. Friday May 15^th, somewhere in the Bristol Royal Marriott; just follow the sound of people having a good time.

So, fingers firmly crossed, it’s all in hand.

Now all I have to worry about is Christmas.

Religious holiday, midwinter festival, or just a few days’ relaxation – whatever it is for you, have good one, everybody.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Janet Reid

I've always heard the phrase "may you live in interesting times" described as an old Chinese curse. Wikipedia scoffs, and the source of the phrase really doesn't matter now. It's firmly lodged in our lexicon as a curse, and it's the exact description of the last couple months here in publishing: interesting!

As I look back, I think the interesting times started in 2007 with the AMS bankruptcy, which rolled over PGW and caused a massive fallout that took Avalon down, among others.

Then came the Borders decision to cut back on stock. They called it turning books face out on the shelves.  Publishing friends of mine called it 30% returns in a month.

The layoffs at MacAdam/Cage this summer turned out to be just a preview of the layoffs and restructurings that rolled through New York last month: Doubleday, Broadway, Touchstone/Fireside, FSG.  

I felt a little bit like Madam Defarge knitting names, but I was just keeping a list of the people who were losing their jobs (but not their heads, thank god!)  

And yet.

I had my best year ever in 2008. I sold more, I sold for higher figures, and my clients sold more books than we did the year before.

Several of my colleagues said the same thing to me about their year.  Much of it was said sotto voce, as though, if we said it out loud, we'd be tempting the fates.  

There's a lot of reason to be worried about what may come, that's true.  This economy isn't going to recover overnight, and when it does recover, there's no guarantee we won't be seeing some radical changes in how books are produced and sold.

And yet.

My job isn't to sell work to hardcover publishers.  My job is to represent authors for the sale of their work.  Format changes, production changes won't put me out of a job.  Someone needs to be there to make sure the contracts don't give the licensee the rights to your kidney, your kid or your next five novels. Someone needs to be there to make sure the royalty statements are right.

Authors won't be out of a job.  Story tellers have been with us since we started communicating with each other, and that's been 50,000 years or so.

Booksellers won't be out of a job.  What that job looks like and how/where it happens may change, but someone has to take the money, make the recommendation, keep track of the inventory, hand me my new copy of something wonderful.

Publishers and editors won't be out of a job.  No matter how much easier it gets to "publish" there will always be a demand for the book which has value added by the art department (cover and book design), an editor, a marketer and a publicist. How all that looks, and how they operate may change, but those people aren't going away any time soon.

What is going to happen is there are going to be fewer of us.  Fewer books published perhaps, but certainly fewer people doing the publishing side of things.

The kinds of books that get published will change too.  There's going to be a lot more emphasis on "content" that can be "chunked" ie content that can be sold in different formats, different pieces and at different times.  Novels aren't good candidates for chunking; non-fiction is much better and prescriptive non-fiction and educational non-fiction is better.  

None of this is going to happen by remote control or by robots. Whatever happens, people who know and love books and embrace the excitement of living in interesting times will be needed.

I intend to be one of them.  I hope you will be too.

It's certainly going to be interesting!

Funny Mysteries, by Any Other Name

Jeff Cohen

No, I'm not going to rant on about the holiday season. Suffice it to say, I'm in it for the presents.

Instead, I'd like to discuss two of my least favorite words in the English language. Two words that, when placed side-by-side, constitute one of my least favorite phrases in said language. Two words that, I believe, are infinitely inferior to virtually every synonym available to the user. Let's face it, I'm no fan of these two words.

Humorous cozy.

Yeesh. Has there ever been a less forceful, less interesting, less sexy way to express any thought? For those of us who traffic in the mystery novel that doesn't gore you out and has some laughs along the way, the idea of a "humorous cozy" is similar to saying that the new girl you met is "sufficiently attractive." Add in a "good personality," and you've got something to get excited about, no?

I've said (enough times to bore even myself) that when I started writing my first novel, I had no idea that there was such a thing as a "humorous cozy." In fact, were I to have been confronted with the notion that the word "cozy" could be a noun, I would have thought about something lacy that goes over a teapot. Something, in other words, that I would never have come into contact with in my entire life, and thought about even less often.

A cozy? That's how you want to sell your sub-genre? "It's got murder and mayhem in it, but don't worry: you'll feel like you're in a warm bath!" Is it any wonder Lee Child is a bestselling author (for those who might migrate to or from The Lipstick Chronicles, where I guest-blogged yesterday, I'm on a Jack Reacher rant this week but don't worry--it'll pass)? You'll never hear anybody describe those books as "cozy!"

"Cozy" is something you want in a bed and breakfast. "Cozy" is for a nice warm blanket. It's a term best used to describe a nook of some sort. A book in which someone is stabbed, shot, poisoned, or otherwise deprived of life? That's cozy? 

Now, let's turn our attention to my even less favorite word, "humorous." To someone who values the art that is comedy, "humorous" is the equivalent of the word "pleasant." It's something that isn't BAD, exactly, but is hardly memorable, enjoyable or anything else that would indicate a good time being had by anyone. 

"Humorous" is the word a fourth-grade teacher uses when you try to spice up your paper about Abe Lincoln by noting that he and George Washington sure did make for a good carpet sale. "Humorous" is something the New York Times uses to refer to Frank Capra movies that have a joke somewhere in the midst of all the spiritual uplift. "Humorous" is something you call your Uncle Bill when he tries that "pull my finger" gag for the seventeenth time.

I would personally like to outlaw the word "humorous" from any work I ever produce. If it's not funny, it should be uproarious. If you can't call it "hilarious," please try for (the actually inaccurate) "hysterical." One review of one of my early books called it "antic." I was perfectly fine with that.

Even if you think my book stinks to high heaven, I can't imagine why you'd want to call it "humorous." I understand the idea of subgenres, but I'd just as soon dispense with "cozy," as well. I understand these are just labels, that they don't change the content of the book in any way, but still--I use words for a living. I care about words. 

So I'd like to suggest a new subgenre: The Funny Mystery. See, it's a mystery, but it's funny. Is that really a problem? Yes, I understand that it doesn't describe the coziness of the book (that is, the fact that the sleuth is an amateur, that there's no excess sex, profanity or violence) but frankly, I've never written a book with those rules consciously in mind. If I feel like adding some profanity, it's up to my editor to tell me why I can't. If the characters are in a randy mood, I'm willing to bet they'll end up in bed at some point. Violence? In a book where readers are antsy that there's nobody dead on page 1, I'm willing to bet there'll be violence. It's a question of degree, and the story will dictate that.

So coziness? I never write to be cozy. Humorous? I write to be funny, and if you think it's humorous, I'll feel like I failed at my job. 

A Visit from St. Francis de Sales*

Abby Zidle

Twas mere days before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a sound could be heard but the click of a mouse.
The editors polished their pages with care
In hopes that bestseller news soon they could share.
They marked up their books using ink, using lead,
From first title page to the last running head,
They flagged all the queries their authors would see
(And fixed all misuses of "i before e").

Their authors had worked till their fingers were sore
To get the best book to each little bookstore.
To Borders! To Costco! To Target and Sam's!
To B&N, Walmart, to Ingram and BAM!
To the indies up north!  To those east and west
And the south--to the libraries, all of the rest!
Fly, little books, like four calling birds flocking
Fast so the bookstores will soon be restocking!

So now it was up to the shoppers a-shopping
Our ears sought the sound of each credit card dropping
On shop counters groaning with wonderful books
With beautiful covers and heart-stopping hooks.
Though the fall had been dire, the news mostly bleak,
Our holiday sales period still had one week
To reveal that the book's a perennial fave.
(And an excellent gift when you're looking to save!)

My moral is plain, and should not be mistook--
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good book!

*the patron saint of writers and journalists

Top 10 Books of 2008

Robin Agnew

At the end of the year a couple things happen.  One, I start thinking about the books I truly enjoyed reading during the past year, and I start making a list.  Then my husband and I argue about it so he can have some books on the list we put in our newsletter and on our website (he lost out on Stuart MacBride's Flesh House but he won on a few others.  MacBride is well worth a look though).   

Then our professional "group", IMBA, the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association, begins balloting for the Dilys award, an award we give to the book we "most enjoyed selling" during the past year.  Sometimes there's a ton of consensus, sometimes, not so much.  This looks like a not so much year, so I'm looking forward to seeing how it turns out.   Some past winners have been In the Bleak Midwinter by Julia Spencer-Fleming; Thirty Three Teeth by Colin Cotterill; Still Life by Louise Penny and last year's winner, Thunder Bay by William Kent Krueger.  All authors I enjoy handselling, and we sell lots of copies of titles by all of them every week.

Aunt Agatha's Top 10 list is one that has books on it that just caught me, somehow, when I was reading them, and three of them I thought were real, surprising, standouts - books by authors to watch in the future.  Always fun to find those!  (See if you can guess which three - this list is alphabetical).

Master of the Delta, Thomas Cook.  What's not to like?  Gorgeous prose, a haunting story set in the 50s in Mississippi, and characters you can't get out of your head.  Cook is consistently one of the best of the best.

Gas City, Loren D. Estleman.  Estleman's John O'Hara-esque look at a town that's corrupt from top to bottom. Speaking of prose, open any page and you'll find a whole paragraph that's so beautifully written it stays with you.  I usually take my time reading an Estleman book just to savor it - it truly is like a box of chocolates.

Madman on a Drum, David Housewright.  I think Housewright is way underrated and I never have anything but a great time when I read one of his Mac MacKenzie books about a Minneapolis P.I.  In this one Mac's god daughter is kidnapped and Housewright manages to almost fit two books into one power packed volume; the first half about the kidnapping, the second about catching the kidnapper.

Red Knife, William Kent Kruger.  I suppose someday my list won't include a Krueger title, but so far it hasn't happened.  Last year's Thnder Bay was a meditation on love, and Red Knife is a meditation on violence, a meditation that does not leave series character Cork O'Connor unmarked.  Krueger's gifts are all on display here - setting, character, and prose.  He's the complete package.

The Shanghai Tunnel, Sharan Newman.  Do you know what "being Shanghaied" means?  I didn't until I read this book, and it's well worth finding out.  A story of a widow in 1860's Portland, Oregon who comes back to Portland after years in China.  Straight up fun, and Newman has long been a favorite writer of mine.  I also love her Catherine LeVendeur series.

The Cruelest Month, Lousie Penny.  Lousie Penny's Easter meditation about a woman who is scared to death in the local haunted house. It's really a book about friendships and jealousy and how those things can go way wrong.  I love the way Penny writes, and I love that with each book she's able to change it up a bit.  She's quickly become one of my all time favorite writers.

The Crazy School, Cornelia Read.  I was a little late appreciating the ultra talented Read, and I thought this book, her second, was even better than the first (Field of Darkness). It's about a woman who teaches at a school for disturbed teenagers, though it quickly becomes clear that the administration is far worse than the students.  Read's prose, her way with characters, and the vitality of her writing make her one of the best new writers I can think of.

At the City's Edge, Marcus Sakey.  Everryone loves Sakey's first book, The Blade Itself, but this one is a step into deeper territory, with incredible characters and a wrenching story.  An Iraqi war vet comes home to his brother's murder and the responsibility of taking care of his nephew.  Sakey masterfully equates the war in Iraq with Chicago's gang violence.  This is a book well worth seeking out.

Child 44, Tom Rob Smith.  This book is truly amazing - I'm not sure how the very young Englishman on the back cover was able to channel 50's Stalinist Russia, but he does.  You feel (sometimes unfortunately) like you're there, as you follow the rise and fall of one Leo Demidov, whose career and life are determined by the state.  Bleak and unforgettable.

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, Kate Summerscale.  Usually we don't have true crime or historical crime on this list, but this book is such a standout it's worth seeeking out.  Whicher does two things: she tells the story of a horrible crime in a Victorian upper class household, and she equates the work of the real life detective in the book to the work that authors like Wilkie Collins were doing.  The ficitonal detectives, it turns out, actually influenced the way real ones worked.    Even better, this book has it's own twist at the end.

Hopefully some of you have read at least one or two of these but all of them have a hearty recommendation from me.  It's been a great year to be a reader!  Have a good holiday.

Performer? Moi?

PJ Nunn

Arranging radio interviews for authors is by far the most popular service I offer, at least in volume. And it still amazes me what a broad spectrum of responses I hear about those interviews. Some love them, some hate them, some endure them as a necessary evil. Some swear they're not worth doing, others think it's the only thing worth doing. Some think NPR is the only radio anyone listens to anymore. Others think only people in New York or Los Angeles listen to the radio. Some see a huge spike in website hits after the interview and others see none. The list goes on.

They pretty much all have one thing in common though. I can't remember the last time an author made a comment about how his or her performance in the interview might have had an effect on the response received (translate sales). I hear a lot about hosts who do lousy interviews or programs that have no listeners. Of course, I don't expect anyone to say they didn't see any sales as a result because they might have done a boring interview, but hey. Shows that have no listeners don't stay on the air long. Somebody is listening. It's up to the author to present such an engaging interview that listeners want to go to their website and learn more, and ultimately to click through and buy a copy or race to their nearest booktore.

I'm never about playing the blame game but I am about accepting responsibility when it's appropriate. The thing that's really hard about authors who blame someone else for an interview that didn't go well is that it leaves them with no control over outcome. If it's all someone else's fault, there's nothing you can do to fix it or to avoid it next time. But if an author's performance on the air isn't as compelling or as engaging as it might be (and let's face it, we all have off days), there IS something that the author can do. That's positive.

But wait, they might say. I'm a writer, not a performer! Wrong. You perform on every page you write. The question isn't whether or not you are a performer. It's whether you're a good one and in what venue. It's way easier to deliver a good performance from the privacy of your office when you can erase and rewrite a million times if you need to. But in a live radio interview, there's no mercy. They're spontaneous. Unforgiving. That's a whole different stage.

Think of it like boot camp. The first middle of the night when the DI rushes in banging a trash can and screaming, the first thing you say when you roll out of your bunk probably isn't, "Yes, Drill Sergeant!" or whatever the prescribed response to that sort of thing should be. Practice is what makes the prescribed response an instinctive one. Thus the word drill I suppose.

So as you prepare for upcoming media encounters, take time to listen to other author interviews and take notes. Consider what works and what doesn't. What not to do can be as important as what to do.

Humor is always good, but only if it's real. Forced humor makes you seem like a joke. Don't do it.

Unusual facts and trivia that relate to your book can be entertaining. Do your research and think outside the box. Think about entertaining listeners more than about selling books.

Any newsworthy hooks and angles are good. Journalists are always on the lookout for new angles on current stories so you never know what can happen. After all, you write fiction. 

And while it may feel awkward and amuse your friends, practicing interview techniques is the very best way to assure that you'll shine when it's real.

Till next time,

Beware of low-flying book

Sharon Wheeler

Do you like your books to be a comfortable maintaining of the status quo, or do you want them to reflect real life where things really do move on and change.

I only ask as I am currently contemplating a dent in my wall where a book hit it at speed this week. It wasn't a crime fiction one, but the question could apply equally well to genre stories (especially if you want to think about cosy mysteries, for example).

The book that did GBH to the wall was Naomi Alderman's Disobedience. It won the Orange Award for New Writers in 2006. All I can think is that it must have been a weak year, or that the judges were blinded by the too clever by half prose that reminded me of a writing exercise (oh, look, Alderman did the Creative Writing MA at University of East Anglia. I rest my case.)

I'd better warn you that humungous spoilers will follow, just in case you are bored enough to want to read Disobedience . . .

A lapsed Jewish woman returns to London following the death of her eminent rabbi father. She has a high-powered job in New York and has been shagging a married man. Back in the UK she comes across a former lover (female – ooh, daring!) who is now royally screwed up and hitched to the rabbi's bumbling prodigy. LJW riffles through her father's house to find some candle sticks that remind her of her late mother, encounters some deeply weird people from the congregation, has a bit of angst over her relationship with the former lover, then pushes off home when the nasty synagogue bloke waves a large cheque at her because she's seen as an embarrassment. Former lover has lots of angst over her sexuality, goes and gets pregnant after having sex with hubby for the first time since dinosaurs walked the earth, and proceeds to win over the congregation despite them knowing about her affair with LJW and having hated her for all of the book. Erm, that's it.

The book reminded me of a soufflé – it looks substantial on the surface, but once you stick a fork in it, it deflates to nothing. There's lots of flashy prose on Orthodox Jewish traditions but the character development is so flimsy it'd blow away in a breeze, and there's absolutely no attempt to provide a believable story arc or to deal realistically and consistently with the sexuality angle.

I think the thing that made me the most angry, though, was the ending. Alderman provides virtually no sympathetic characters during the book, and is particularly heavy-handed with the congregation members. All of a sudden, though, there's this nauseatingly cutesy page and a half to round the book off where LJW skates over her sexuality and lack of religious belief and a patriarchal religion in a "oh, it's OK to be gay and I’ll always have faith" way. Erm, right, I see, where did that come from?

When it boils down to it, the book is deeply conservative and actually really rather homophobic. LJW goes back to America and nothing has changed in her life. The former lover has a baby and stays with the bumbling prodigy which suggests strongly that you can't be happy if you're a lesbian and all they need to sort them out is a bloke shagging them.

If ever any book reinforces the status quo, Disobedience does. That status quo may be comfortable. But it also makes for dull, frustrating and almost offensive reading.

Does anyone have a cure for technophobia?

Lynne Patrick

I’ve been a bit – OK, a lot – of a technophobe all my life. Regular Dead Guy visitors will know the saga of my mobile phone. I finally ditched the charger in the course of a grand clearing our of cupboards last weekend.

 

But it all began much earlier than that. Cutting edge word processing technology during my college days was a portable typewriter, and for people with generous parents, a little pocket-sized tape recorder so a more diligent friend could record the early-morning lectures for them. Me, I swore I’d never learn to type because it would consign me to the secretarial pool. And sad though it sounds, I was usually the diligent friend.

 

Later, when everyone I knew was buying those natty little Amstrad word processors, I swore off computers in any shape or form. For one thing, I never learned to type. For another, it was a fad which wouldn’t last…

 

Trouble is, twenty years later the fad seems to have caught on big time. But have you noticed how many of the words it uses have four letters? Ebay; Face Book; spam; even blog. Doesn’t that tell you something?

 

I have an awful feeling I’m going to have to mend my ways and actually find out how all this stuff works. A few weeks ago I took on a young woman looking for work experience in publishing; she spends one day a week in the office with me, and some of the words she uses seem to belong to some alien language. I always thought Face Book (or is it FaceBook?) was something 13-year-olds used to chat to their chums when their phones ran out of credit. Apparently it’s an invaluable marketing tool which will bring Crème’s books to the attention of thousands of crime fiction fans. And in the current economic climate (which I promised myself I wasn’t going to mention today, but it looks like we can’t escape from it) we need all the invaluable marketing tools we can get. Alex, my work experience assistant, is on the case. Thanks, Alex.

 

This is the time of year when my biggest technological adventure ever, the Crème de la Crime website (www.cremedelacrime.com, but don’t visit just yet – see below) comes centre stage. Which is probably why technology is on my mind today. I decided a few years ago against the kind of all-singing, all-dancing, all-changing website which updates itself daily with little bits of news no one but us is really interested in. Ours gets a major overhaul once a year, when we’ve planned our new list and there’s actually some news to impart. And sometimes we add essential information halfway through the year, like the Criminal Tendencies competition which has just closed. The plan is to have all the new stuff up and running in early January. Which is terrifyingly close...

 

(I say we add. Actually we wouldn’t know where to begin. A lovely, talented, technologically minded guy called Phil takes care of all that. And you may be sure that wherever in the cyber-world Creme de la Crime makes a guest appearance, someone else did the needful.)

 

OK, I know what you’re thinking: this is the 21^st century, why doesn’t she start living in it and make use of all the opportunities technology offers?

 

Excuse me while I bury my spinning head in that nice cool pile of sand for a moment. 

 

I know. I know. But it’s OK for all you bright young things who were born with a keyboard grafted on to your fingers. Some of us have to learn how to do it. And it takes time – always in short supply around here. And it’s scary.

 

But if anyone knows of a cure, or even a temporary treatment, for possibly the worst case of chronic technophobia this side of the Atlantic, please send it to me. Not by text; I don’t have a mobile phone any more.

 

I know how to work e-mail. Surely that’s a start.

Feeling Slightly Crazy? Ok, How about Now? Now?

Janet Reid

 

Behavioral scientists found a way to make even the sanest of their lab rats go nuts pretty quickly: random shocks.  Rats could deal with regular shocks. We can too: every day at noon the fire siren goes off, and even if you live next door, you get used to it.  Go to elementary school, and bells ring all the time, but they ring at scheduled times. 

 

If you randomize the noise, the fire alarm at dawn one day, midnight the next; or you start changing when the school bell rings, stress levels go up, and the subjects go nuts.  Nuts being the clinical term for slightly/totally crazy.

 

I mention this because publishing is now undergoing a period of random shocks.  Today came news of layoffs at the venerable FSG.  Sure we knew more layoffs were in the works somewhere but not knowing where or when makes getting the news a random shock.

 

So, don't be surprised if we all go slightly crazy for a while.

 

As I started to think about this topic I realized that people writing query letters are subjected to random shocks and unreliable information pretty much constantly.  It's a wonder none of them have gone postal. 

 

Rejection letters come intermittently. They all say different things.  Agents and editors blogs and conference panels provide contradictory information.  The only way to stop the stress is to quit querying, and for most writers that means an end to their dream of being published. They'd rather endure the shock, and be a little crazy than give up.

 

I admire that tenacity.  I wish I could alleviate some if it, but so far I've been unable to convince everyone in publishing to do things my way, to have my submission guidelines etched in stone.  It's a terrible disservice to writers, so clearly it's my public duty to persevere in my evil plan for world domination. (Hang on for a second, I need to put up a lightning rod, I see a bolt or two headed straight at my head...) 

 

Ok, I'm back.

 

In the articles I read about the crazy rats, it was clear that the usual stress relievers worked for rats too.  They included 1. companionship, particularly with a rat who wasn't getting shocked; 2. exercise; 3. eating; 4. drinking; and  the most important 5. getting a way to feel in control. Rats who could push a lever to reduce the shock got used to the shocks pretty quickly.

 

What this means for writers is first recognizing that querying is stressful.  Eat, drink, exercise and make time to be with friends is as important now as ever.  And set up a way to feel some control over the process.  I'm not sure what that would be but my guess is the writers who read this blog will have some ideas.

 

And perhaps remembering too, that no matter what craziness goes on in publishing, the one person who will always have a job, ALWAYS, is the story teller.  All the rest of us depend on your work.  We add value to it, we help you, sure.  But you're the one, the point upon which the entire \/ of publishing rests.

 

Since we're all going to be a little crazy for awhile, during this Chinese Year of the Rat, maybe we can all help each other out a little bit too.

I'm not exactly sure how but maybe you all have some ideas about things agents could do to make you slightly less crazy.

 

 

Dude, Where's My Bailout?

Jeff Cohen

If the members will come to order, please--please! This hearing is back in session. Thank you. Now. Will you swear in the next witness, please?

Do you swear the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

Well, I'm an agnostic, but if you want me to swear, I have no objections. Sure.

Your name, please?

Jeffrey Cohen.

And your profession, Mr. Cohen?

I'm a mystery author.

(There is an uneasy rumbling among the spectators.)

Mr. Cohen, why are you testifying before this committee today?

I'm here to request a bailout, Mr. Chairman.

A bailout?

A rescue plan, a golden parachute, whatever the proper term is this week.

You're asking for money to subsidize the mystery publishing industry?

No. I'm asking for money to subsidize me.

Ah, Mr. Chairman...

The chair recognizes the Senator from Alabama.

Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I recognize you, too. Believe we had lunch together once during the Reagan Administration. But I have a question for the witness. Mr., uh, Cohen? 

Yes, Senator?

Are you related to the guy who wrote "Yankee Doodle Dandy?"

Afraid not, Senator.

Enough of this. Mr. Cohen, the chair is confused. You expect Congress to offer part of the stimulus package for yourself, personally?

That's right, Mr. Chairman. I believe that since banks that failed and car companies that couldn't compete are getting tons of money from the government, a mystery author who tries his best should get the same kind of treatment. Editor's note: Yeah, we know; the car companies haven't gotten any money yet. But they will. After all, publishing is being hit at least as hard as the car industry. There are some people who say we'll see the end of all books soon. Has anyone suggested that we'll all give up our gas guzzlers and start hoofing it across the country?

Not that I know of, sir. But I'll ask my driver. I'm sure you understand, Mr. Cohen, that the stimulus package is not designed to help individual citizens.

Yes, Mr. Chairman. That's where it went wrong.

But the idea is that the companies being assisted--large banks like Citigroup, insurance giants like AIG, and huge manufacturers like General Motors--are considered "too big to fail."

Yes. And that's what I'd like to be. So if you could fork over the billion dollars...

A billion dollars? For one man? Isn't that awfully greedy, Mr. Cohen?

This from a body that allocated $700-billion from money taxpayers like me are donating, then decided that wouldn't be enough? And we don't see a dime of it? Mr. Chairman, wouldn't a billion-dollar allocation to me represent the smallest payout you've been asked to consider?

By far, Mr. Cohen. But consider the number of people a GM employs. Should that company be allowed to go out of business...

They could all go to work for Toyota, and make cars that get 45 miles to the gallon until the electric car is developed enough.

That's an awfully simplistic view of the automotive industry, Mr. Cohen.

Well, I was an English major.

The point is, a huge number of people have jobs dependent on the car companies. What would a billion dollars for you achieve?

Far more than that, Mr. Chairman. If I could afford it, I'd be buying a brand-new house. That gets local construction workers back on the job. I'd probably buy a new car, and if the American companies were making something that I could afford to drive--even WITH the billion--maybe I'd buy one of theirs. I'd hire assistants, accountants, lawyers, support staff. I could promote my books to the point that people would actually buy them, keeping booksellers in business. I could make book trailers, propping up a new industry that's just getting off the ground. Maybe then there'd be a movie deal, and that keeps entertainment industry workers employed. Tom Cruise has to worry about that next $20-million coming from SOMEWHERE, you know.

So your argument is that you would put people to work?

Immediately. Just cleaning up my office would be a full-time job. I have a 10-year-old beagle/basset. Someone has to be on staff just to sweep up the hair on an hourly basis.

And if you don't get this money, Mr. Cohen?

I hate to think of the effect it would have, Mr. Chairman. My son would have to drop out of college because we couldn't pay the tuition. My daughter was planning on attending in two years--that'd be gone. The higher education system might collapse. If I couldn't make a living as a writer anymore, I'd stop using office supply products. Staples could go under. Office Max would be here asking you guys for a handout. I wouldn't be buying such basic supplies as paper. Steve Carell could be out of a job. The implications are enormous. I'm a patriotic American, Mr. Chairman. I shudder to think that my failure could bring down the country.

So what you're saying is that you are...

That's right, Mr. Chairman. Too small to fail.

And unlike the auto manufacturers who came here by private jet, I noticed that you drove up in a two-year-old Prius.

Yes, and I carpooled with the other authors who plan to hit you up for a buck or two. There were four of us in the car. We used the HOV lane and went through EZPass. Whole trip took an hour and a half.

Do you have a plan to turn your business around with the billion dollars you're requesting, Mr. Cohen?

Yeah, I thought I'd take most of that money and buy a Kindle.

For those who just can't get enough of me: I'll be guest-blogging at The Lipstick Chronicles this coming Sunday, December 21. You can bet it won't be about Christmas shopping. Drop on by!

Clearing the Decks

Abby Zidle

It's almost the end of the year, and things are quieting down around the office.  I've got one, maybe two more books to get into production before the holiday, and I finally have time to clear out my submissions pile.  "Pile" is a bit of a misnomer these days--I get the bulk of my submissions electronically, so it's really my submissions e-folder.  But it's bulging, nonetheless.

Although this is a time for winding down, it doesn't mean we aren't still buying books.  If something brilliant pops up, I'll certainly still go hat in hand to my publisher looking for advance money--after all, isn't everybody shopping right now?  In fact, I could really use some more books on my list for next year--I'm feeling a little light.  But given recent events, it's more important than ever that every book be something on which I'm willing to stake my reputation (such as it is).

Although you'd think that my situation would be good news for aspiring authors--an editor who needs books is more likely to buy, right?--sometimes I find that the pressure to buy great books, BIG books, messes with both my confidence and my taste level.  On the one hand, I start trying to convince myself that a just-OK book is an excellent book, especially if it's something high-concept.  On the other, I don't want to risk money on anything that isn't screaming off the pages at me...it's my head on the chopping block if it doesn't work, and when all around me people are getting chopped, that truth is brought home daily.

This week I had a crisis of confidence about a book I'm publishing next fall; it's a big book, we're doing it as a hardcover, and I paid, for me, a very big advance.  The book is being "crashed"--that is, we're publishing it on a much shorter lead time than a typical book.  Therefore, I didn't have a complete manuscript when I got it, and only saw the whole thing a couple of weeks ago.  But I had to prepare a selection from the ms. to share with our sales force, subrights department, and so on--all the people who need a lot of lead time to promote our books.  By the time I'd worked over the sample chapters several times, I couldn't see the forest for the trees.  I was reluctant to hit "send" and pass the selection on--what if it wasn't good enough?  What if our sales force didn't see what I had seen in the project, because I didn't do one more editorial pass?  Will this book make my career, or will I tank some poor author by paying a fortune for a book that doesn't work?

Fortunately, the brilliant and calming Janet Reid is the agent on this project, and she already knows I'm off-kilter on a regular basis.  So I sent it to her and said, "I'm losing my mind and panicking that this isn't good enough.  Please read and tell me it is...and that my hair is pretty."  (Even editors need agents sometimes.)  She graciously agreed on all counts (even the hair).  And having heard from the voice of reason, I was able to step back and remember why I'd bought the book in the first place.  Sometimes you need to clear the decks mentally, too.

New York City

Thanks to all the nice comments I got last time after posting word of my gallery opening in New York last week - hopefully I'm going to be able to include a photo here but we'll see!  It was a wonderful & inxcredible experience - coming from painting on my living room floor to seeing six of my paintings framed and hanging on a wall in an actual gallery was really something.  The opening was packed, and I'm especially grateful that Janet Reid, Alan Gordon and Chris Grabenstein and his really nice wife J.J. were able to make it.  I also got to visit with my college roommate who lives in Brooklyn.

The gallery owner took my mother, sister & I out after the opening & as we talked it turned out that he is a huge mystery fan, of all things!  He likes lots of classic stuff and I was able to send him a few books when I got home that hopefully he hasn't read (Manning Coles, for example - he loves Eric Ambler but had never heard of Coles).  The rest of the work in the show was so different from mine that my nerves almost vanished - it was like operating from a different universe.

It's great to be exposed to such a different side of life after 50 years on the planet - seeeing these other artist's work and what they are thinking about really got my own wheels turning and I couldn't wait to get home and paint.  Though as it turns out things like Christmas are getting in the way but there's something up on the drawing board, calling for me to get cracking.

 

Who needs a therapist...really?

PJ Nunn

Let's face it - the publishing business these days could easily be described as insane. And I AM a therapist so I'm allowed to say that. Of course one of the first things I learned in grad school is that there really is no "normal". It goes right along with that pesky null hypothesis and the horrors of statistics class (which mascarades as math but is, in truth, of the devil). Just scroll back over Lynne's and Abby's posts this past week and see what I mean. Semi-organized chaos is typical.

I'm glad Lynne's week has been good so far. Mine has too in many areas. In others, I'd like to pull my hair out, but then I'd be bald and that would make things worse so I simply eat more chocolate. Even answering my phone is a crap shoot. My calls run the gamut from the highly desired national broadcast producer calling to say, "Yes, we'd love to have your author on our show. How about Tuesday?" to the dreaded unhappy client calling to say, "I don't need you any more. You haven't done anything for me that I can't do for myself." Sigh.

So let me state for the record that I rarely do anything for anyone that they couldn't do for themselves. But I do things for people almost every day that they don't do for themselves and I do them well.

Please forgive the mini-rant.

I read an article today about some of the greatest marketing stunts ever, and there have been some good ones over the years. But it reminded me of something worth mentioning here. Lots and lots of authors think they know all the right things to do, and busy themselves doing those things. But often in the doing, they lose sight of the reason someone thought they should do those things in the first place. Or maybe they never knew the reason. What are you really trying to accomplish? Your marketing plans should lead you to that final outcome. A good plan has an outcome that's a year away or longer, so you really can't judge the success of your plan a week from Friday. Each event or step is one of many designed to lead you there. Usually one builds on another so gauging success or failure on the basis of a single element probably won't give you an accurate forecast of the outcome.

It pays to reevaluate your marketing plans periodically, but not too often. There's a fine line to walk and I get clients that go to two extremes. One who wants to judge cause/effect every other day (way too soon) and another who found a plan six years ago and sticks with it today, regardless of the advent of blogging and any other newer options. The first ones are the ones that want to change course on the basis of a single signing event or radio interview. If the event was a smashing success they want to schedule 50 more just like it. If the event didn't go the way they hoped, stop the presses and cancel everything! Neither of those responses is a good one.

I regularly get new clients whose expectations need some adjustment. I'd love to be able to prevent that but it's hard to do. I try to discern what their expectations are in initial phone conversations and do a fairly accurate job in most cases, but still get surprised now and again. Probably because even if I asked outright what their expectations are, they're not likely to be entirely honest. Not because they intend to lie or mislead. Just because first, it probably seems immodest or egotistical (although I've also been surprised by a few who truly seemed to believe theirs was the best novel ever written) so they minimize what they'll say. If they mention Oprah, it's in a joking manner with only a tiny hint of hopeful undertones. Second probably because they've not really thought it through yet.

It's nice when they come to us prepared with feet firmly planted on the ground. It's also fairly rare, at least for first time authors. Did I mention Flexibility is my middle name? There are so many variables in this business, it's hard to plan knowledgably, but it can be done.

So how does an author lay in an effective, even memorable, marketing plan in today's economy? By doing his or her homework. That includes getting information from a variety of sources, understanding that many have influenced reasoning. Such as (I'm sticking my neck out here) publicists at major publishing houses who say they'll be working a variety of media venues for you or smaller publishers who promise they do more publicity for you than the big guys. There's truth in both of those statements and I work with both small and large publishers every day. But there's also unspoken truth there, much of which can be condensed into one statement. They don't have time to do as much as they'd really like to do. I can honestly say I don't know of one who'd lie outright, promising something they know they won't deliver. But I know the business and how flaky it is (meaning the reliability of markets) and how TIME is one of the most critical elements in marketing.

Deadlines are everywhere. Print space and air time are dictated available or not by breaking news and corporate sponsors. Followup is vital because there's some kind of unwritten rule about not returning phone calls or emails. And few publishers or publicists have the manpower or the time to do sufficient followup even if they do have the ability to make the initial pitch in the first place. Most of the time it's a one shot deal. If it works, great. If it doesn't, oh well. Time to move on.

I've been hired by many a client over the years who hired me a month or two or three after release because they thought the publisher had them covered, only to find out they didn't get the coverage they expected.

But there's another part of due diligence that has to do with realistic expectations. I so hate to hear from first time authors who are frustrated because they think the radio programs aren't on big enough stations or the stores didn't have posters in all the windows and a marching band on hand to welcome the touring author. National NPR shows are fabulous, but they rarely interview authors promoting a single PBO release. There are a few choice stores that pull out all the stops to promote each and every event they host, but most don't. Most can't afford to. They do what they can.

So should a first time author not bother to try? Oh please don't go that route. That's like shooting yourself in the foot. But you can improve your odds by practicing your interviewing technique with a media coach and laying in some media Q & A or bullet lists of talk points that make you seem like the seasoned professional you are or hope to be. You can also improve your luck at signing events by actually planning an event and providing the store with materials to help promote your event. Remember that if you're working an independent bookseller, they're usually very committed to the cause but short of both staff and funds and will appreciate anything you do or provide to help bring traffic in for your event. If you're planning a signing at a chain store, you're working with someone who earns an hourly wage and has a lot of other things to do. Some are doing good just to get your books ordered. Don't wait for them to promote your event. If they actually do, you can be pleasantly surprised. If they don't, you won't be devastated because you expected more.

I had an author tell me once that I shouldn't use the excuse of his book being from a small press for not getting him what he wanted. I had to counter that it wasn't an excuse at all, but it was an explanation. I have contacts most authors don't have. I know the ins and outs of scheduling media better than many authors. I even have favors I can call in from time to time. Those are things I use every day to get attention for my clients and their work. But I can't always get what they want. I wish I could.

My week?

National media for Karna Bodman.

Christmas Eve television spot for Donna Andrews.

Possible event for Sally Wright on a local Air Force base.

Got to read my partner in crime's (Mike Witzgall) mentions in Jonathan Maberry's Zombie CSU.

Got a last minute call at nearly 7 this evening that Joshua Corin's interview needs to be rescheduled due to a host's sore throat.

Got Jeff Osburn's ARCs off to major reviewers.

Got nibbles from appropriate print markets for Kathryn Lilley, Clare Langley-Hawthorne, and Margot Justes.

Got less than the average number of declined events - I guess more folks are in the holiday spirit.

And I have a whole list of things still to do and calls still to make this week. All things considered, it is a good week. Hope yours is good too!

Till next time,

Meeting a hero

Sharon Wheeler

I met one of my heroes last week. If you're a UK photographer or journalist of a certain age (over 40) you will have grown up alongside Don McCullin's searing battlefield images.

His photographs from The Congo, Vietnam, Biafra, Northern Ireland, Cambodia and Beirut defined a generation. And he was the man who was refused media accreditation by the government during the Falklands War for fear of the images he would certainly have brought home.

McCullin has seen horrific sights that most of us will fortunately never have to witness – read his autobiography Unreasonable Behaviour and you'll see why he is such a seminal figure and why it meant a lot to me to be introduced to him.

I'm a lousy photographer, but one of the reasons I became a journalist was because of the power of McCullin's images on the pages of the Sunday Times (this was in the days when it was a newspaper worth reading and not one that gave paperboys and girls hernias).

McCullin is now in his 70s and lives in Somerset where he's taken breathtakingly atmospheric photos of the Somerset Levels. He was being awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of Gloucestershire last week. His speech was humble, moving and brimful of humanity. I sat there thinking 'oh god, oh god, I can't cry, oh damnit, I will cry …"

After the ceremony, where my luvvies also received their degrees, I glued myself to Kim, my colleague who teaches Photojournalism, and wheedled an introduction. And I'm so glad I did, as the speech reflected the man in person. I've often been nervous in the past about meeting people I admired, in case they turned out to be blithering idiots. In this case I needn't have worried. McCullin was charming, modest and gracious enough not to be fazed by me gabbling like an idiot!

And while I was talking to him, I told him about my friend Ian. Ian died six years ago and I miss him every damn day. He was a photographer and when he died, I inherited a lot of his books, including some of McCullin's work. Ian would have been as excited as I was to meet one of photography's true greats.

So far, so...

Lynne Patrick

So far it’s been a pretty good week. On Monday morning we had an offer for audio rights in a title that’s more than two years old. Then two requests came in for murder mystery evenings next year. I had to ask for an alternative date for one; the diary is already filling up. Tuesday brought another murder mystery evening, making five altogether, including two I booked in last week; and a photocopy of a review in a paper we’ve never got a foothold in before. And Wednesday… well, the morning’s been quiet, but who knows what the rest of the day will bring?

 

Credit crunch? Who said credit crunch? (Deities and fates please note: I said that with fingers crossed and hand firmly planted on the wooden table top. I know my place in the great scheme of things and if I give destiny the finger it’s always, absolutely, honest promise, in jest.)

 

The murder mystery evening bookings, by the way, are exciting not only because they mean we can shout about our books to a captive audience. They also mean firm sale of a couple of dozen each time. As I said to someone this morning, they’re not about earning money; all we charge is expenses. But the venue, if it’s a library, which all five of these are, buys a supply of our books for stock.

 

With these few good things coming to those who wait, I could start to feel a little smug and complacent. But that’s not really my style; I’m a swings and roundabouts, balance and harmony sort of person, and well aware that everything has to be paid for. But it would be good to think that the bad has already happened (how about alarmingly high returns last month as the bookshops cleared their shelves in time for the Christmas onslaught?), and these little bits of good are restoring equilibrium. Besides, when I hear about American publishing’s Black Wednesday, then look around and see poor old Woolworths in its death throes, not to mention the component parts of the empire which impact directly on the book trade, I do get a cold shiver and begin to wonder who’s safe. Even optimists have to be realistic sometimes.

 

The main cause for concern over here appears to be the fallout from the Woolworths crash, and the wholesalers which were entangled with them. EUK have already called in the receivers (please, EUK, don’t sue me if I’ve got that wrong – I only know what I read), so the big supermarkets are casting their eyes around for alternative sources of supply of Christmas books. Bertrams, who supply real bookshops with real books (oh, come on, surely no one takes supermarkets seriously as booksellers, however many they shift), have persuaded the big publishers to reopen lines of supply and are still trading more or less normally. The book trade news websites keep hinting that there’s a buyer in the offing, but so far it hasn’t happened. And meanwhile, one of the supermarket chains is already forming a meaningful relationship with Bertrams’ direct competitor.

 

I got involved in an interesting discussion this morning: what would happen if the other big book wholesaler decided to buy Bertrams? Would it be blocked by the Competitions Commission, despite the current economic situation, which has already made assorted politicians and financial institutions arrive at decisions they wouldn’t normally entertain? Alternatively, will the Competitions Commission intervene in some way if Bertrams follow the rest of the Woolies empire into oblivion, leaving the other wholesaler to scoop up all the business?

 

All totally hypothetical, of course, and something a little company like ours can only muse about. I have a hunch that Bertrams will continue to battle valiantly through the storm, and eventually rescue will come and they’ll be stronger than ever. Which is good news for them, and mostly good news for the rest of the book trade.

 

And we could all do with some good news.

Wolfe Whistle!

Shameful confession of the year: I've never read a Nero Wolfe novel. Nero Wolfe's creator, Rex Stout, is one of the great icons of the crime fiction community and my canonical oversight really should be the subject of a 2009 New Year's Resolution.

 

Despite my dereliction, The Wolfe Pack, comprised of devoted Nero Wolfe fans, was kind enough to welcome me to their annual Black Orchid Banquet.  I went because a pal of mine was receiving an award and I wanted to be there to cheer for him.

 

Imagine my delight to find several other friends in attendance and a warm welcome from everyone else.  Needless to say, I'm joining immediately and planning to attend next year, even if there is some dreadful oversight and a friend of mine does not get the Black Orchid Novella Award (called, so far, the BONA, not to be pronounced aloud above 14th Street!)

 

One of the evening's highlights was being present to see Jane Cleland (current  president of the NYC chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and author of the Josie Prescott mystery series) as part of the "must be seen to be believed" dance troupe.  You didn't know Jane was a dancer? Me either.  It seems that one of the traditions of the Black Orchid Banquet is that each of the tables write and perform a song; something in keeping with the theme of the evening. Jane's table wrote words to the Goldfinger theme song.  The gentlemen sang; the ladies...undulated.  Undulate as in the opening montage of the James Bond movies.  You really had to be there. I was and it is a memory I will cherish for life.

 

I'm told Bouchercon2009 will have a Nero Wolfe/Rex Stout banquet that is the same kind of event as the Black Orchid Banquet I attended on Saturday.  I'm so there! I'm praying Jane and her troupe will be as well!

 

Another highlight was discovering the office of FinePrint Literary Management is on the same street as Nero Wolfe's famous brownstone. There is some question about the specific house number (it said to be 918, 506, 922, 902 and 914 in various books) but clearly it's on 35th Street.  Needless to say, I'm now on a mission to go see the house (the City of New York placed a plaque at 454 West 35th to mark the spot) and take advantage of the proximity.  After all, a literary agent who lives on the same street as Nero Wolfe should be pretty good at selling crime fiction, and solving the mystery that is royalty statements right?

 

As I now know, Nero Wolfe would say "Most satisfactory!"

 

So Inherit Something Else

Jeff Cohen

I've written six mystery novels now, and am about to dip my toe into the seventh. More on that as weeks go by.

But in reality, that first sentence is inaccurate. There have been six mystery novels of mine that were (or are about to be) published, but I've actually written one more. I'm staring at it right now, because I can see the last existing copy sitting on my shelf.

It's called Inherit the Shoes, and I wrote it after the last Aaron Tucker book, As Dog Is My Witness, in 2004 (or so) and before what became the first Double Feature Mystery, Some Like It Hot-Buttered, in 2005 or thereabouts. Shoes was what I thought would be the first in a series about Sandy Moss, a New Jersey prosecutor who moves to Los Angeles to get out of criminal law and take on what she believes will be the calmer, less ambiguous world of family law at a large firm. (Don't ask "a large, firm what?")

Sandy discovers that nothing actually works out as she expects, and her first divorce case--one on which she's only supposed to be the second chair and not say much as she learns--becomes the defense of a man accused of murdering his soon-to-be-ex-wife. The fact that the guy is a hugely famous TV star playing a criminal defense lawyer on a show called Legality doesn't help.

Now, an author whose work has actually seen publication shouldn't complain about The One That Got Away, but Shoes has always been something of a favorite of mine. For one thing, it's the only novel I've ever written that my wife reviewed with anything other than, "It's cute." She said it was the best thing I'd ever done.

The few people who had read the manuscript have said similar things. Diane Kovacs, moderator of DorothyL, got a look at it a couple of years ago, and said it was her favorite of my work, and she liked my other work. My agent, who read Shoes as a sample when deciding whether to represent me or not, was more excited about it than about Hot-Buttered, which I might have mentioned, actually sold.

You can't figure anything in this business.

I'm told, now, that Shoes is "too chick-lit." That's something of a surprise to me, as I've never considered the book to be in that sub-genre. I think it's a funny mystery and spoof of a legal thriller with a female protagonist (mind you, I was being told at the time that a male protagonist--which all six of my published novels have had--was a strike against a book). Maybe it's the word "Shoes," which apparently is the chick-lit touchstone of all touchstones.

Seriously, I'm trying not to complain. I know the market is changeable, and maybe the book isn't as good as I thought. I haven't read it for a while. There are things I wrote years ago that I thought were the greatest thing since Citizen Kane and on re-reading years later, turned out to be something more on the level of Howard the Duck. And even if it is a good book, the business has changed since 2005. They're just not looking for that anymore, and "they" have a better sense of what sells than I do, certainly.

I don't know. I do have a real affection for Shoes, and I hope that someday you get the chance to decide for yourself. But it's not looking good.

Er, Perhaps I Spoke Too Soon

Abby Zidle

So, three days after I come on here and tell everyone that books are going nowhere, the publishing industry falls off a cliff.  Though in my defense, the books are still there--it's the people who are gone.  Bantam Dell and Doubleday both lost their longtime publishers, and the companies will be rolled into Ballantine/Random House and Knopf, respectively.  S&S laid off 35 people from a variety of departments (for the moment, I still have a job, but I'm staying a little later these days just in case!), and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt followed its acquisitions freeze and the departure of their publisher with the layoff of a number of other staffers, including several longtime editors. And Thomas Nelson laid off 20% of its workforce.

OK, things are looking a little tight.  And kudos to all you commenters who've supported publishing in the best possible way--by buying new books!  It was a hectic Wednesday; Publishers Lunch sent out the announcement about Irwyn Applebaum and Steve Rubin's departures (well, Rubin's reassignment), and I picked up the phone to call one of my buddies from my Bantam Dell days and get the scoop. While I was on the phone with her, we get an e-mail with the S&S announcement.  Instantly my other line is ringing off the hook, but I can't pick it up because I'm still on with my friend. My assistant happens to be on vacation this week, so everyone who can't reach me is convinced I've been laid off.  I'm now e-mailing the people whose numbers are coming up on my phone saying, "Still here! On phone. Heck of a day."  Who says this business doesn't run on gossip?

Of course, mere days later, these events were overshadowed by a Viacom layoff of 850 people...but either way, it seems that people are cutting back all over.  Nevertheless, I'm holding to my somewhat Pollyanna-ish view that books will survive this round.  We'll be a little leaner (and I suspect the paper may get crappier), but after all, we've got some stories to tell.

A Vulture Named Michael

Hi from Deni, guest blogging for Robin.

Since I have a bazillion deadlines---and, boy, do I know why they're called DEADlines--- I thought I'd blog about the items on my desk. Which, of course, I'm looking at as I write this blog.

I think writing should be fun, so the items on my desk tend to make me smile. First and foremost, one's gaze is drawn to a statue of Edgar Allen Poe, looming over a red Staples "That was easy" button.

I have two personas. Denise Dietz writes mysteries that have no socially redeeming values whatsoever, and Mary Ellen Dennis writes historical fiction that is ageless. Deni's mysteries and Mary Ellen's historicals always include romantic elements, inspired by their mutual best friend, lover and husband, Gordon Aalborg. Gordon's office is upstairs, in the loft, and he often sends Deni emails suggesting they meet for coffee (in the kitchen). Meanwhile, his photo graces her desk, along with Cat Tracks, Deni's favorite "Gordon book."

Deni has a wonderful photo of her actress sister, Eileen Dietz, who played the possession scenes (and The Demon) in "The Exorcist" and inspired Deni to write Fifty Cents For Your Soul, which Publishers Weekly called "Hollywood noir."

Deni likes to listen to show music. On her desk she has a stack of CDs that include Les Mis, Candide, Once Upon a Mattress, Phantom of the Opera, and a dozen other Broadway shows. She also has the Dixie Chicks, Harry Chapin, and Barbra Streisand. Mary Ellen prefers Celtic music and drove Deni daft by listening non-stop to Loreena McKenna's "The Highwayman" while writing The Landlord's Black-Eyed Daughter.

Mary Ellen has a huge framed poster of Daniel Day Lewis in The Last of The Mohicans. Deni, who once sang professionally and had a reviewer compare her to Judy Garland, has Judy Garland memorabilia. Deni's poster shows The Wizard of Oz's Dorothy in a biker bar, with the caption: TOTO, I DON'T THINK WE'RE IN KANSAS ANYMORE.

Deni and Mary Ellen share the same desk. Aside from their individual piles of research books, photos, notebooks and scrap paper, aside from their computer screen, keyboard, modem, phone and printer, they share a stuffed "deadline vulture" that perches on top of the modem. Deni named it Michael Seidman after her first editor. Deni and Mary Ellen share a heavy rock, ostensibly a paperweight, that has CREATE chiseled on its surface. They also share a small ceramic tortoise; it reminds them that if you only write one page a day, by the end of the year you'll have written a book. Both write more than one page a day. Deni likes the stress of deadlines, Mary Ellen prefers to finish her manuscripts before she sends them to her agent (they share the same agent). Deni owns a small ceramic frog in a witches hat, seated behind a crystal ball. The frog inspires her to write Toe of Frog (AKA "The Da Vinci Toad"), her sequel to Eye of Newt. In that book readers will meet a reincarnated Rottweiler who is afraid of doorbells and songs from the 1970s.

Leaning against the wall is Deni's Lamb Chop hand puppet, given to her by a fan who read Chain a Lamb Chop to the Bed, the third Ellie Bernstein "diet club" mystery (the 4th in the series, Strangle a Loaf of Italian Bread, will be out in May).

Finally, Mary Ellen collects angels. Her favorite angel holds a piece of paper with a Luciano de Crescenzo quote: "We are each of us angels with only one wing and we can only fly by embracing each other."

Moving and other things

PJ Nunn

This is far and away my favorite time of the year and even here the weather is cooperating and we’ve enjoyed temps in the 30s with windchills in the 20s. Fireplace weather. My new office has a fireplace right in front of my desk, which I love, even though my one attempt at a fire nearly smoked us out (and yes, I did open the flu first, but a chimney sweep is apparently in order). The family room is big enough for my ever increasing family (have I mentioned that my youngest daughter’s impending wedding is about to make me step-grandma – Elisi in Cherokee – to two small children?) and probably half the boxes that moved with us have been unpacked so far.

I’m able to work full days again, although a few wayward boxes of office supplies have yet to be unearthed and despite the fact that the heavy equipment arrived the day after I called to have DSL installed, and dug trenches to lay lines from the pole at the street to the house, they still haven’t managed to get that working. I’m looking into satellite. After working on broadband for years, stepping down to dial-up is insufferably slow.

Capturing media for our clients in the weeks prior to and after the elections has seemed harder even than usual this year but it’s finally beginning to pick up again. It helps when it seems luck is on your side. For instance, Karna Small Bodman wrote about a terrorist attack in her first novel, Checkmate. She wrote the book years ago and it was published in 2006, yet it played out in real life this past weekend, same country, terrorist group and all.

A similar thing happened a couple of years ago when we were helping Julia Spencer-Fleming promote A Fountain Filled with Blood. Who could have known that the Episcopal church would make major changes that very summer concerning female priests and homosexual adherents? You just can’t plan or schedule that kind of coincidence, but it can sure be a boost to book sales and promotion.

Don’t be confused, though, and think that luck put either of these authors where they are today. Karna’s schedule changes so fast it’s hard to keep up sometimes, and even between releases when others might beg off promotion, she’s been known to do two or three radio or tv interviews in a day, sandwiched between luncheons and other public speaking engagements. Frankly I wonder sometimes when she has time to write!

And Julia’s personally visited more stores across the country than anyone I know. At one point she was scheduled in 18 cities in around 3 weeks. And lest you think her publisher sent her first class wherever she went, I remember a frantic trip she shared with Denise Hamilton up the west coast (literally) in a rental car, racing not only traffic but the clock as well, to make hotels from one phone interview to the next. Talk about paying your dues.

So forgive me when I frown if I hear authors whine because a radio program isn’t national or a store not big or fancy enough. Like Ringo Starr sang once upon a time, It Don’t Come Easy. There’s a reason why Mary Higgins Clark still shows up to sign books in grocery stores on occasion. In fact, she was at Wal-Mart in NY today. When you get right down to it, it’s all about staying in touch with your readers.

And I love that my job is about helping authors do just that. After the horrors of packing and moving in a hurry (long story I’d just as soon forget), it’s a delight to be back on the phone doing things like finding a TV spot for Donna Andrews to talk about Six Geese a-Slaying on Christmas Eve and putting in an order for bound galleys of Jeff Cohen’s next – A Night at the Operation (yay!).

I love my job.

Till next time,

Of book proofs and head measuring

Sharon Wheeler

It's a flying blog visit from me this week, as I have meetings at what feels like every minute of the day, book proofs to read, an index to put together, a backlog of reviews as long as the M5 to write and a graduation ceremony to attend. Oh, and I do teach now and then . . .

The book proofs have been ever so exciting, as it's my first solo flight as an author – previously I've either co-edited or been in edited collections. So when a courier delivered them into my hands, I did rip the package open with rather indecent haste. And what emerged was starting to look like a book, with snazzy lists and fancy graphics – and the words wot I wrote!

Since then, with the assistance of my retired schoolteacher mother, who has a scary eye for detail, we've been reading through and trying to collar the errors and I've been resisting the temptation to squawk loudly, throw the whole lot up in the air and demand a wholescale rewrite.

There are still some wibbles with the graphics to be resolved. Both a newspaper and a magazine article are going to be reproduced in the book. The former happily sent over an electronic version; the latter for some reason wouldn't play ball, so we're working from a not top-quality photocopy, which is rather annoying.

But I'm encouraged by the fact the copy editor didn't have too many queries, and the proof reader just half a page of glitches to iron out. And it all seems much more real now. Or will do when I've done the index. I said I'd do it on the grounds that bad indexes drive me bonkers, and how difficult can it be to do one. I have a very nasty feeling I may soon find out that it's not as easy as it looks. So if anyone has any tips, please send them my way!

Now, excuse me while I head off to the graduation ceremony for last year's students. I’ll be the one glowing with pride when my luvvies step up to receive their degrees. Yes, I shall be wearing a silly hat and gown. I hope to avoid a repeat of last year's incident where I put my hat on, it fell over my eyes, and the bloke from the company who supply the robes informed me that it looked like "a bleedin' wastepaper basket!" Moral: never let an English Literature professor armed with a strip of paper and a six-inch ruler measure your head.

Running late

Lynne Patrick

I like to get my weekly post up and running first thing on a Wednesday morning, but I’m running late today, mainly because things began to happen the moment I opened up the office and switched on the computer this morning, and I don’t seem to have stopped answering e-mails ever since.

The reason is I’ve started to put the word out about Criminal Tendencies, the anthology we’re bringing out next spring in support of a breast cancer charity. And people are being amazing.

 

I’ve discovered over and over again in the past five years that crime writers are thoroughly nice people. I’ve met a lot of writers over the years, and in general, I’ve always found they’re pretty much the same mix as the rest of the human race: most are great, some have an undeservedly high opinion of themselves, a few are not very nice at all. But crime writers… So far I haven’t met one I didn’t like. Maybe it’s that they put all the nasty stuff into their work? Who knows?

 

What I do know is that over the past couple of days I’ve asked everyone who has contributed a story to Criminal Tendencies if they’ll help promote it when it comes out. And so far every single one has answered yes, bring it on. They’ve offered to distribute leaflets in the UK and US, (one has even talked her son into printing them for free!), share their own experiences of breast cancer with the media, give themselves writers’ cramp signing copies, mention the anthology in radio interviews intended to promote their own book…

 

As I said, thoroughly nice people.

 

What I need now are some imaginative marketing ideas. We’ve no more money to put behind Criminal Tendencies than any of our other titles; imagination is our prime marketing tool. For all twenty-six authors in the book it’s a key component of the talent they all possess in abundance: the magnifying glass through which they filter that essential spark and turn it into a great roaring blaze of story, which takes on a life of its own and sometimes runs out of control. For me, it’s what can we do this time that’s new and different? How can we convince this magazine editor or that radio producer that we’ve got something that will add sparkle to their books page or popular culture slot?

 

Or the other side of the marketing coin: how do we make the book stay in people’s minds long enough to get them to the till with a copy in their hands?

 

This time it matters even more than usual, because there’s so much at stake. Breast cancer has affected just about everyone I know in one way or another. Most women, and not a few men, know someone who has had it. Two of my closest friends are survivors; we heard the other day of a family member who unfortunately wasn’t.

 

So come on, imagination, do your stuff.

 

I know that if I sit and stare at the screen for long enough, an idea or two will begin to develop. But how many hours can I actually afford to spend doing that? Answer: about as many as an author who has a new book to write and a family and often a day job (not to mention Christmas – aaaaargh, the C-word!) to fit in as well.

 

It’s already starting to happen. The spark has ignited. We have a major bookshop chain on board, with a six-week promotion. And Crème de la Crime’s charity anthology will be next spring’s must-have, must-read, must-talk-about hit.

 

You never know. This time it may just happen.

 

 

 

 

Why Publishing is Like a Trip to Paris

Janet Reid

 

Bonjour! Ca va? Avez-vous eu un bon week-end? Avez-vous manger trop? Ce que la vache sauter par-dessus la lune?

 

If, like me, you've squandered away some hours in French classes you can probably piece your way through the first four sentences above.  Hello! How are you? Did you have a nice weekend? Did you eat too much?

 

It's that fifth sentence. You recognize the words, but suddenly, you're not on firm ground about what they mean: The something sauteed the moon?  What the hell does that mean?

 

I was recently reminded of what it's like to parse out meaning in an unfamiliar language when I found myself explaining "publication date" does not mean the date the books come off the printing press.  "Pub date" is used among us Book Language speakers to mean the day the book is available for sale in stores. In other words, off the press, out of the warehouse, out of receiving and on the shelves.  You can intuit there might be a gap of four to six weeks between "published" off the press and "published and available for sale."

 

Mais, sacre bleu, how would anyone know that? Until you learn Book Language publishing is a foreign country. Like France. And like planning a trip to Paris, becoming acquainted with the publishing industry has stages. 

 

The first stage is you fall in love and want to go there. You love to read. You love to write, you want to be a writer.  Everything about writing and reading sounds great. Then you find out that people might actually pay you to do this, and sacre bleu, the vache saute sur la lune! (the cow jumps over the moon!)

 

Then you save up money for a ticket.  If you're a writer this means you spend some time learning how to write. High school, college, critique groups.  Some people are born knowing how to do this; some people have trust funds to pay for a ticket. Not many, not most. Probably not you. 

 

 

Then you decide where to go. You get a map.  This is when you write a novel.  You decide what you're going to write, and get it all down. An itinerary.

 

Then you book the plane tickets.  You query an agent. It helps if you know the difference between "business class" and "economy red eye" and "multiple stops" and "non stop" when you talk to the travel agent, but a good agent helps you sort out all that stuff, and helps you figure out what you can afford. And helps you get there.

 

 

And then you arrive, and you're published.  And you're standing there at Charles DeGaulle airport, valise in hand, and Sacre Bleu, what the HELL just happened here!  They're all speaking French! They're speaking French very FAST! And they are annoyed as hell that you are blocking the sidewalk, taking up space, speaking English, and looking clueless.

 

Even the French who work in tourist dependent industries are known to loathe the people who make their industry possible. Particularly if they don't speak the language. And more so if they don't even try.  As you might imagine, there are days I feel their pain. Why don't these people know what pub date means? How can you possibly think we will be doing just one more revision on a book that's been sent to the printer?

 

So, how do you learn about France before you go?  How do you learn Book Language before you're there?  Immersion. And one of the best ways to immerse yourself these days is simply read the blogs of people in the industry. There is an extraordinary wealth of information on the web about how publishing works. What pub date means. What SASE means. What "returns" mean.  What "literary agent from hell" means. 

 

I'm re-learning to sew right now.  I haven't had a class in sewing since 8th grade Home Ec, and that was more years ago than I care to reveal thank you.  Fabrics, machines, styles have ALL changed.  Yes I can sew a straight seam, and I know what a pattern is but after that, I count myself a novice.

 

It's been a bountiful education to discover sewing blogs. People who sew and write about what they made, what worked, what didn't, what patterns had instructions that made no sense, and what they did instead.  Those blogs are an extraordinary resource as I start out not knowing much other than "I want to sew a dress."

 

The only thing that makes it possible to read these blogs rather then keep thinking "I should be reading these blogs but I don't ever remember to" is GoogleReader.  I mentioned GoogleReader last week, and I'm back on the soapbox about it again.  

GoogleReader keeps track of all the blogs I've subscribed to. It tells me when the blogs have new posts. It lets me mark ones I want to re-read, ones I'm done reading, and best of all it has a suggestion feature. Based on what I've subscribed to already, it suggests other blogs.  If you're  starting out and just learning the lay of the land, this is invaluable. It's how I found at least six of my favorite sewing blogs (and I've found some amazing book blogs and reconnected with some old favorites as well.)

 

To get to google reader, go to google and type "google reader" in the search box. If you don't have a google account it will prompt you to create one. Once you're at the google reader site, there's a button that says "add subscription".  You can start by adding this blog. And my blog at jetreidliterary.blogspot.com

 

I subscribe to 117 blogs right now.  I don't read 117 every day. I don't have to remember to click on 117 every day. But when one of my favorite new friends The Abbeville Manual of Style has a rousing new battle with their formidably orange opponent The Chicago Manual of Style, I'm there! 

 

Or as they say in France: Aux armes, citoyens Formez vos bataillons, Marchons, marchons!

Into the Sunset... Eventually

Jeff Cohen

I come from a screenwriting background (which means I did a lot of screenwriting and didn't sell anything before I wrote my first novel, which I sold--go figure), so writing a standalone book--something I haven't done yet--is like writing a feature film, and writing a series is like writing a television series. To me.

So the question eventually arises: When is it time to end the series? In many cases, as in television, the decision is not one made by the author; the publisher looks at sales figures and doesn't make an offer on any future works with these characters. That's an easy, if unpleasant, decision on the author's part. There's no thinking involved, other than about how you'll make a living from this moment on.

But for successful series with devoted followings, how do you know when it's time to quit? Obviously, some authors don't, or have a hard time turning down (what at that level becomes a good deal of) money. Even devoted fans of such authors (and if you think I'm naming names, you're crazy) begin to notice the decline in quality, or interest on the part of the author, and while they hope each time a book comes out for a rebound, they'll privately acknowledge that this author should have put these characters out to pasture a while back. I can't say how I'd react, but I have to guess I'd come down on the side of financial stability for my family in these troubled times. 

When the offers come tumbling in, I'll let you know.

This was all brought home to me recently with the announcement that the USA Network series Monk will air its eighth and final season beginning next summer. To my mind, that will be two years too late, but I'll be watching, if for no other reason than to see the series wrap up the investigation into the death of the main character's wife, the reason for his great difficulties and, the writers would have us believe, his OCD. 

I'm still a huge fan of Tony Shalhoub and much of the rest of the cast of Monk, but the fact is, the series has been on the decline for a while. A character who once appealed to our sympathies, who had suffered a great tragedy and was damaged but still brilliant, had become merely self-centered and obnoxious. You started to wonder why the rest of the characters were willing to hang around with him.

If the decision begin made were an artistic one, it should have been made at least a year ago, but it's hard to stop doing something when everyone keeps telling you how great it is, and the people in charge of paying for more keep ponying up the money. Other examples of TV series that went out "while still on top": M*A*S*H, Mary Tyler Moore, Seinfeld,The Sopranos. Was any of those shows truly at the top of its form when it left, or would it have been better to end it a season or two sooner, when it was really cooking?

Sure, people still beg for more. The Beatles put out 13 standard-setting American albums (the number differs in the U.K.) in less than seven years, they did it 40 years ago, and there are still people desperate for more, to the point that Paul McCartney thinks they should release a 14-minute, 1967 jam session in which everyone in the band walked around the studio and just banged on whatever was there. 

But here's the point: brilliant musicians that they were, in 1969, the Beatles realized they couldn't continue on; the personal animosity was too much and the pressure too great. They recorded "Let It Be," and that would have been the end. But they knew it wasn't their best work. So instead of quitting, they went back into the studio and recorded "Abbey Road," which was their best work, and went out on a literal high note.

It's a painful decision to stop creating something that has been great. I would be heartbroken if some of my favorite authors decided enough was enough, especially if their latest was among their best. But if that drove them to create something else that was wonderful? Perhaps I wouldn't complain as loudly.

For Monk the time has come. And now, a couple of years later, they'll stop making more.

P.S. How'd you like to be the author whose promo materials showed up on this?