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

Helium balloons make me cry.

Yesterday afternoon I went to the movies with my mom, my stepdad, and my newly-graduated-from-SAIC-and-just-accepted-and-given-a-scholarship-to-CCS-sister Beth.

We went to see UP (warning: that link takes you to a page which loads the preview automatically, with sound), the new Pixar movie.

I don't want to spoil it, for those of you who have plans to see it. And for those of you who don't have plans to see it: make plans to see it.

Seriously.

Pixar Studios continues to astound me with the amount of character they're able to express with only slight, spare dialogue, some well-composed music, and familiar images.

In the span of twenty minutes, Pixar showed me (nearly) the entire life of the main character, Carl Fredricksen. I cared so much for him in those first twenty minutes that I was vehemently on his side for the rest of the movie. Watching him take an extreme risk, and rooting for him as he came upon each new obstacle, was the most engaged I've felt in a movie in ages.

Maybe since Wall-E, actually.

If you write, and you struggle with creating characters your readers will care about, rent some Pixar films, and take notes.

Elmore & Peter Leonard & Loren D. Estleman

Robin Agnew

This past Thursday, we co-hosted an event at the Ann Arbor District Library, one that had literally taken years (at least in our imaginations) to put together.  The event featured Loren D. Estleman interviewing Elmore Leonard and his son, writer Peter Leonard.  For years, since our store is near Detroit, we have longed to host Elmore Leonard, who is notoriosly loyal to his "home" store, the Borders in Birmingham, Michigan. 

Once a few years back he gave the lecture at the Hopwood Awards at the University of Michigan, and we knew his driver - we tried to get him to veer the car over our way to get him to stop by.  And he and Loren Estleman, a frequent Aunt Agatha's visitor, are old friends.  The fates never aligned, however.

When we booked Peter for last year's Kerrytown BookFest, that was of course an entirely different thing.  He was a new author, a lovely person, and we were delighted to have him be part of the day.  About a month or so later Jamie sold books for Peter at an event at the Eastern Michigan University Library, and Peter asked when it was over if he could sign some stock for us when his new book came out.  Of course Jamie told him that we would be delighted to host an event for him.  His comment: "Can I bring Elmore?"

I immediatley contacted the library as I knew there was no way we would have enough space, and the library was about as excited as we were.  I then contacted Loren Estleman to see if he'd be willing to interview father and son, and of course he was.  All three had new books out by the time of the event. The night of the event people started to arrive a good hour and a half early - the first people to arrive had driven from Niagra Falls.  They were a little giddy (nice people, I chatted with them a bit while they were waiting to get their books signed).

It was a great event because none of them really talked about their latest books as at a normal book event - it was more of a conversation between father and son writers, and between two old friends who share many similarities of sensibility.  It evolved as they talked about movies made from Elmore's books (he dislikes Be Cool) and about the one crime book all three agreed was the best ever: The Friends of Eddie Coyle.  Elmore also indicated his annoyance that his editor doesn't like the title for his next book, though it sounds like it's going Elmore's way.  My favorite part of the evening, though, may have been when Peter got out of his briefcase some old car ads from the 60's that his Dad had written and he read some of them aloud.  They were wonderful - though his Dad asked him "Why did you save those?"  To me they tied Mr. Leonard even more firmly to the history of Detroit. 

The signing line was very long and all three men were extremely patient and gracious as people worked their way through it.  At the end Peter said: "You've signed way more books than that!'  Elmore's reply: "That was plenty."  This event was definitely one of the highlights of bookselling for us, but it's almost like Christmas being over.   What could possibly ever top it?

The mouse and the raccoon

PJ Nunn

I should've known it was going to be one of those weeks when I woke up Monday, all set to enjoy the holiday, and sat on a mouse that had burrowed under the cushion of my favorite chair by the door that goes out to the patio in the back yard. It was apparently a rather assertive mouse because rather than lying quietly under the cushion and waiting for me to go away, it pushed back, making its presence known. I then totally abandoned my professional persona, leapt from my chair at an alarming speed and proceeded to scream like a girl. The mouse then climbed up on to the arm of the chair, jumped to the floor and ran speedily away.

My youngest son came gallantly to my rescue but then was so bowled over with laughter he wasn't much help. So much for spending some time reading in my room. He then felt led to share the incident with everyone he came in contact with that day, including my brother who called from Little Rock. He, too, found it abundantly amusing and assured me that I'd made his day. Hm.

Figuring my holiday wasn't going to be as relaxing as I'd hoped, I sent my hubby off to the Home Depot in search of more and larger mouse traps and headed for my office where I hoped I'd be safe from varmints of any kind. My desk is somewhat cleaner now.

Once the new mouse traps were baited with peanut butter and scattered about, I felt safer and Tuesday brought a typical "after-holiday" busy day. I used up the charge in the batteries of two phones and we caught three mice who somehow looked a lot smaller than I thought they were.

Wednesday, my dad was having surgery so I was up earlier than usual. All went well with him and my day proceeded much as Tuesday. Several confirmations, more phone calls than I could count, and three more mice caught and disposed of - one lost a valiant fight with my scottie who was not looking out for me, but merely defending her food dish. Another that had found a home under a skein of yarn I hadn't touched in a while looked startled (probably not as startled as I did) when I picked up the yarn and tried to make a run for it. Unfortunately for the mouse, it was too short to get out of the box without the yarn to climb on so my aforementioned son came to carry it outside, far, far away from the house. Sadly for me, but probably not for the mouse, it escaped somewhere between here and there. I don't like to think about it.

Thursday, Dad got to go home from the hospital, in much better shape than when he went in. I once again used up the battery on my phone before I ran out of calls to make and managed to accomplish most of the things on my list of things to do. AND there were no mice in any of the traps. Could it be we caught them all?

I had a meeting Thursday evening so it was almost 9 before I once again found a minute to relax into my favorite chair by the door. I'd only been there a few minutes when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned toward the door. Mouse?  No way. Cat? I wish.

It was a raccoon staring at me through the panes of glass in the door. I didn't scream. It was, after all, outside. I did glance up to assure the door was locked, not that it probably mattered. Before I could determine a course of action, if there was to be one, my other dog wandered in and apparently looked threatening to the coon, who took off into the darkness.

I just sat there, thinking it seemed an appropriate end to the week, all things considered. Then I realized that it's not the end. Yet. Yeesh.

Till next time,

Speaking in tongues

Sharon Wheeler

Regular visitors to Dead Guy Towers will know that I read and rave a lot about European crime fiction. Small indie publishers like Bitter Lemon Press and Arcadia have done us a huge favour by bringing the best French, German, Italian, Dutch and Spanish writers to our attention. And now most of the large UK houses have a respectable roster of Scandinavian writers. And thereby hangs a small problem for reviewers . . .

If you haven’t read the book in the original language, how do you tell if the translation is any good? I can manage books in French at a fairly sedate pace (and my admiration for the team who translate the excellent but idiosyncratic Dominique Manotti knows no bounds), but my one year of Old Icelandic at university isn’t what you’d call useful for reading the likes of Arnaldur Indridason and Yrsa Sigurdardóttir in the original.

At first, when I reviewed, translated books, I carefully never mentioned the translator. It was only when I’d been the recipient of some electronic hard stares by Yvonne Klein, my co-conspirator over at RTE, and a translator herself, did I finally click what a humungous role they play.

I read a very intriguing feature a year or so back in Crime Time where a group of translators were interviewed about their work. And very revealing it was as well. I should warn you that it’s a bit of a plod, as they’ve put each question to each of the translators. But stick with it …

Apparently one of the biggest menaces are authors who know just enough English to quibble over the use of slang – a French writer was adamant that flic should be translated as bobby! And the translators are divided on how much contact they want with the writer, but the consensus appears to be that having someone willing to answer questions is essential. They’re not always complimentary about reviewers, although Laurie Thompson takes it as praise if the translator isn’t mentioned!

A comment from Ian Monk particularly caught my eye: “I think I am well placed to translate crime work because you need to have learnt the language in the country. As I often say, I learnt my French in books and bars, so this means I have a better grasp of slang and real spoken French than University professors in the UK!”

As a reviewer, one of the things I’ve learned to look for in translated novels is up-to-date slang. One or two (no names, no pack drill) appear to have been rendered by someone who now lives up a mountain and last visited the UK in 1955! And yes, I do take Adriana Hunter’s point in the interview that sometimes the idiom depends on the age of the character and the situation. But I’m talking about younger, streetwise characters who have been given clunky, dated slang to spout.

In the end, about all a reviewer can do is acknowledge the work the translator has done and to keep an eye out for uneven text. We’re helped where more than one translator has worked on a series, such as with Henning Mankell. That way you can start to develop a feel for what’s the author’s own voice and what’s the translator’s head popping over the parapet.

Both sides of the Atlantic

Lynne Patrick

We got reviewed the other day in a small local newspaper which doesn’t cover a region in which one of our authors lives.

 

Such is the value of networking. Not that meeting someone in a hotel lounge when you’re enjoying a well-earned break really counts as networking, but I’ve learned that in this business you’re never fully off duty, so I always carry business cards. When I remember.

 

This isn’t a post about reviews; I just thought I’d mention it in passing.

 

Since Alison went all serious on us the other day and gave us her well-thought-out take on e-books, I decided I’d follow her lead by answering a question which seems to come up about once a week now that our titles are available on both sides of the Atlantic and so is this blog.

 

To wit:

Why do we ship copies out to the USA instead of printing over there?

 

OK. It’s easy. Small indie publishers deal in small print runs because we’re happy with sales figures which don’t even make a dent in the turnover of our larger, more prestigious and far richer competitors. Printers don’t like printing small quantities. (Cue supplementary question about print on demand. That’s a whole other post, and I think I may have written it already. For the moment, suffice to say we haven’t yet found an on-demand printer offering a unit price that makes any kind of sense.) So we print a larger quantity – still not HarperCollins or Random House large, but large enough so that the printer doesn’t tell us to go away and come back when we’ve grown up. We put them on sale over here with the help of Turnaround, the brilliant distributors without who we simply couldn’t function, and sell as many as we can. Then six months later, wonderful Dufour Editions decide how many they can sell in the USA, and arrange to have that number shipped.

 

Some titles do better here in the UK than in the States; for others it’s the other way round. If I knew the magic formula which would tell me how well a title will sell, here, there or both, I’d be a far richer woman than I am at present. Or maybe not – just better organised.

 

In these days of economic gloom, every manufacturing enterprise is grabbing on to as much work as it can, so traditional printers are actually prepared to deal in smaller quantities than before. But their overheads don’t shrink, so the unit price goes up as the number of copies comes down. If we decided to print half the run here and half in the States, and by some strange chance found two printers who were willing to go with the stupidly small quantities which would result, the odds are our total bill would finish up something like 25% higher. Which would wipe out shipping charges and then some.

 

I don’t convey information about the mechanics of being a small indie publisher nearly as entertainingly as Alison does, and I expect everybody except  Maria has glazed over or gone to make coffee by now. Maybe even Maria. But you did ask, Maria. And so does at least one other person a week.

 

So now you know.

 

We have a book launch next week. That will be a lot more interesting. There may even be celebrities!

Proof that it IS Only Drunks and Small Children

By Barbara Poelle

On Sunday morning at 4 a.m. a man fell off of the roof of our building. Apparently he had been up there imbibing to excess and toppled right off the corner and into the sleepy abyss below. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell this tale to be gruesome and chastise-y. He lived. Oh yeah, he plummeted 6 stories down into an alleyway and onto a pile of garbage where he promptly passed out in a hazy dreamlike state, awakening only to the feeling of a detective shaking his shoulder as he slumbered amongst the detritus  of my past week.

So basically, what I am telling you is: I saved a life this weekend.

Well, okay, not me exactly, but my spaghetti squash guts and Windex-soaked paper towels did. Just think about that. What if instead of tofu meatballs and soy yogurt I had been chowing down on broken glass and hypodermic needles? Or what if I had thrown out my cement block collection this week? This man would be dead.

No, no thanks needed. I was only doing my duty as a citizen.

The best part is, the call to 911 was made by some woman who was up for an early shift at work and saw his body go by her window. He seriously passed out in the garbage and was only aware of what had happened after being shaken awake by police. (And I hope she took the day off.) There was a whole investigation then, just in case it was an attempted 187 and not a MGD 64, but no, it was just a lone gentleman with a case of beer and a hankerin’ to see the pretty lights of Manhattan at 4 a.m.  

How awesome is that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a horrible, horrible happening, and clearly that gentleman needs to attend some sort of meeting, but can you imagine starting a novel out that way? Like, your protagonist shakes himself awake in a pile of garbage after being thrown from a roof. Or your protagonist starts his Memorial Day weekend shift shaking the shoulder of a man who has just toppled from a rooftop into a dumpster, and is thinking, “So this is what my shift is going to look like.” Or, let’s say this event happened to the father of your protagonist on the night she was conceived. Or perhaps the husband of your protagonist on the night she planned to kill him. Man, the list is endless!

I just signed a new thriller author last week, and his novel has an opening line that makes me want to throw a barstool through a bay window, it is so good. I am serious. It isn’t exactly like the happenings of the ‘hood this weekend, but it has that same kind of feeling- when I read it, it makes me look like a large pit bull mix, I kind of tilt my head and I go “Mhrrah?”  I have been dying to find a new thriller and I even wrote what I can only describe as a “haiku lament” to author Shane Gericke  of Thrillerfest begging him to help me find a new thriller this summer. (His response, also in haiku, was hilarious. Check out Shane at www.shanegericke.com. Hey, it doesn’t count as a shameless plug if it’s not my author.)

But there is always room for more on my list. So if perchance, your protagonist falls off of a rooftop or is thrown through a plate-glass window in the first paragraph, you know where to find me.

What's Your Favorite Comedy?

Jeff Cohen

Because I write funny mysteries (I refuse to use the term "humorous" to describe my work, as it is the blandest of "funny" words, and indicates to me that something has perhaps a chuckle buried deep within it somewhere), and especially because I write a mystery series about a guy who runs an all-comedy movie theatre, people often--okay, twice--have asked me what my favorite comedy film of all time might be.

Well, why not just ask which blade of grass is the greenest?

There seems to be a prevailing opinion that comedy is interchangeable, that if something is a "comedy," we immediately know what it will be, and we can compare it straight-up to every other comedy ever conceived. It doesn't work like that.

There's the in-your-face, all-out farce of Mel Brooks, best exemplified perhaps in Young Frankenstein (1974), when he was reined in a little bit by his co-writer and star Gene Wilder. But how can you compare that to something as nuanced and subtle as, let's say, Diner by Barry Levinson? Both comedies (although one more "serious," to be sure), but in no way the same, other than they were both projected on screens and preserved on celluloid.

So let's compare farce-to-farce: the chaotic, sporadic genius of the Monty Python troupe, in their most memorable feature film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Wild, completely out-there comedy, in which absolutely anything goes. Giant wooden rabbits catapulted into the air. Neon signs in 13th-Century England. An ending that... well, there is no ending. Take that and contrast it with something like A Shot in the Dark, the second Inspector Clouseau feature with Peter Sellers (the Steve Martin Clouseau movies simply don't count). Wild farce, right? Easy to compare.

Nah. The Clouseau films, although cartoonish, broad and hilarious, are conventional. They adhere to the rules of storytelling. Inspector Clouseau is always TRYING to do his best, but he's a klutz and an idiot. The Python boys couldn't care less about a story, and will go 600 miles out of their way if there's a joke lying around to be picked up. Monologues about systems of government in a Clouseau movie? Never. Story logic and a happy ending in a Python film? Hard to imagine.

But go back further: Compare any Preston Sturges movie to those of the Marx Brothers. Compare Laurel and Hardy to the Marx Brothers, for that matter. Was Mae West like Carol Burnett? Was W.C. Fields comparable to Will Ferrell? All comedians. All successful. There will be those who say they were all hilarious. But comparable? I don't think so.

Look at it this way: What's the best DRAMA ever made? Citizen Kane? Casablanca? Schindler's List? Sophie's Choice? And WHY is one better than another? Why does it HAVE to be? Why can't we just evaluate each on a case-by-case basis and forget the competition for a minute?

My favorite comedy of all time? How do I know? Maybe I haven't seen it yet.

Let's talk about [e-books], baby/Let's talk about you and me/Let's talk about all the good things, and the bad things, that may be.

Alright, Maria, I'll put if off no longer. :)

I do want to preface this post with the caveat that I may not entirely know what I'm talking about -- please have a salt shaker handy in the case that I leave some out.

Here's what I think about e-books: They are probably awesome. As many of you may know (or rightly suspect), I love Star Trek, and the closer we get to having those amazing PADDs (Personal Access Display Device), the more excited I become. The idea that I could tote my work files, my leisure reading, and several reference books all in one slim little device which I could read propped on my belly in some hammock somewhere ... yeah, that sounds awfully nice to me.

Now don't misunderstand me. I am a part of the I <3 books as objects camp as well. I will always have (several) bookshelves, and they will always be filled to bursting. The smell, the page-turning, the physical feeling of so few pages in your right hand just and things are getting so tense and out of control for the protagonist ... I'll continue to enjoy and savor those aspects of the physical book.

Plus, well ... I don't have an e-reader. Not a Kindle, not a Sony, not a yet-to-be-released Plastic Logic device. They're a bit spendy, yeah? Until they come down a bit in price (or I learn how to budget better), I'll be e-readerless. (I don't count my iPhone, because while it does have e-book capabilities, the display is a bit too small for my tastes.)

Alright, but this post isn't supposed to be about my own personal e-reader tastes. I'm supposed to be shedding light on Bleak House Books' attittude toward e-books and technology in general. Ok, sorry. Here I go:

1. E-books are awesome. We have several authors who have titles available for Kindle now -- and all for under ten dollars. (Libby Fischer Hellmann, Eric Stone, Mark Coggins, Bill Cameron.) These books became available because the authors called us and asked specifically for us to help them make it happen. We provided them the interior files for their books, and they uploaded and took care of the rest. Which brings me to:

2. Time management. Ben and I and a sweetness of interns (ah, the joys of inventing collective nouns!) keep Bleak House running day-to-day. We're it. Although I love the idea of exploring e-book options and figuring out what best works with our company's model, there are other, pressing items on our agendas on a daily basis. For Ben, on any given day, he can decide to spend his time promoting our forthcoming Spring titles (Uncage Me just went to the printer, btw, and will be available in July, and is *awesome*), or he can decide to do some research regarding e-books. Most days, Ben chooses the former, and our presales reward him for that choice.

3. This is all fairly new! While there is a lot of information swirling about regarding e-books and e-rights and digital sharing and ramifications and best practices and possible benefits, it's difficult to wade through it all and come up with a right answer, right away. This technology is still developing, and as each new e-reader is introduced, a new way of formatting the digital file for optimal display is needed, a new uploading system needs to be navigated, etc. Bleak House certainly doens't want to be left on the Archaic Shores as the Massive Cruise Ship of Technology sets sail for Tomorrowland, but I guess we're not entirely convinced that the ship is ready to leave dock yet. We're putting our toes in the water where we can, with the Kindle editions, and we're certainly open to options and keeping our eyes peeled for information, but we're not yet commiting a ton of time resources to marrying ourselves to one version of the technology. We're wearing e-books' promise ring, but we're not yet engaged. Plus, keep in mind my earlier statement: I don't have an e-reader. Neither does Ben. We have no way of quality-controling the files, once they're uploaded. Do they look ok? Should we reformat the file to shave off some of whitespace? Does the drop-cap at the start of the chapter cause a glitch so that it always appears with those annoying &% signs in front of it? We don't know, because we don't know what our books look like when dispayed on a device.

4. Pricing and the author's share of e-rights: Well, this is a big deal, yeah? Maria, I really love that you have an arbitrary (and I don't mean that in a negative way) price above which you will not pay for an e-book. That's incredibly helpful information for us to consider: What is an e-book worth to a reader? On the flip side, what is the author's work worth? Say you were out at a bar with a friend. Say you wanted him to tell you that really funny story he tells about the time the pig got loose at his neice's graduation. He agrees to retell the story, but only if you buy the beer. So is an evening of oral entertainment worth one pitcher? Two? Pabst Blue Ribbon or Spaten?

Entertainment value is subjective, but I would argue that there is always *some* value. As a consumer, I like it when an artist allows me to decide that value myself. (One of my favorite albums, Feed the Animals, is available at name-your-own-price. Best five dollars I ever spent.) But is that practical for the artist? How many people download the album for nothing -- and who offers to pay more than ten dollars? Is it possible to make money on the venture using this kind of pricing structure?

Ben and I are certainly interested in figuring out the answers to these questions -- and all the others that e-books inspire. I guess the main point of this post is just that: We're exploring the possibilities, but we have no ready, hard-and-fast procedures in place for how we'll interact with this brave new world. We're still asking ourselves the basic, bottom-of-everything questions:

How much is a mystery worth? Is its value tied to how long it takes to read? The quality of the story? The format in which it comes to the reader? The value of the author's name, if played on a Scrabble board?

What do you think?


p.s. If you're at all interested in how Bleak House chooses the covers for our books, please swing by the Outfit blog tomorrow. Libby will be discussing the process we've gone through for her forthcoming novel, Doubleback (which teams up P.I. Georgia Davis and series favorite Ellie Foreman!). She'll be posting five cover options, and polling readers as to their favorites. Go vote on a Bleak House cover! It'll be fun, I swear!

Things that happened this Week

Robin Agnew

With a title like that, it's kind of hard to resist reading onward, isn't it?  Never the less...

Fought with my bookfest board over whether booking Jeffrey Deaver was a good idea (of course it is, and he is coming to the bookfest September 13.  Yay!)  Some of the board members thought he was too "famous" and would take away from the more local talent...but a better known talent lifts all boats, usually.  I like the mixture.

Fought with a certain publisher who lost a signing event order not once but three times, and then told me the book was out of stock.  Then backtracked and said there was a "secret stash" of books in New York, and perhaps they could get permission to release some.  My store is now filled with (more) boxes of books so obviously the stash was accessed, but really, ordering books should not be that difficult.

Sold LOTS of books by Reed Farrell Coleman thanks to a review on NPR's Fresh Air.  That couldn't be nicer - a wonderful writer being discovered by more readers.   Because he is with a small press, was able to order more copies immediately...

Discovered a new writer msyelf, something I love doing.  So many of my guy customers had mentioned Matt Beynon Rees that I finally picked up his first book, The Collaborator of Bethlehem.  Wow.  This guy writes like a dream, he has a wonderful central character, and because he was bureau chief for Time in Jerusalem, his grasp of the area is complex.  I'm looking forward to reading the next two in the series.

And something funny...two very nice, slightly older female customers were browsing around and buying one morning, and they came up to the desk to pay.  The first one paid, and then her friend took her money out of her pants pocket, accompanied by the sound of velcro being ripped aprt.  Her friend said, "You have locked pockets?  At my age, if someone wants to root around in my pockets, I'd let 'em."  They left the store giggling away (me too).

And how was your week?

If wishes were nickels...

PJ Nunn

If wishes were nickels...then we’d all be rich…

It’s been a wishy week for me. I’m not the sort who indulges in wishes very often, but every once in a while, I wish:

• I could turn back time
• The one callback I’ve waited for all day wouldn’t come when I finally dashed to the bathroom
• When someone forgot to write a signing event on the store calendar they’d be man/woman enough to admit it
• I had time to call and talk to each of my clients at least a time or two each month
• I was promoting my own work
• I'd finally nabbed someone a spot on Oprah
• Radio hosts who don’t keep office hours would actually return phone calls
• I had time to go to the lake more often
• I liked going to the gym more than I like chocolate
• I could do better for a great author when I can’t due to circumstances beyond my control (substandard publisher, poor editing, horrible cover art, etc)
• I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to catch morning show producers (I'm NOT a morning person by nature)
• I could catch that green ball that QBert used to catch that allowed him to run around doing things while the clock was frozen
• I didn’t remember that the price of a stamp when I got married was $.05 and gas was $.25 a gallon
• I always had the arcs I need when I need them
• It was easier to make sure some authors have realistic expectations
• There wasn’t so much rejection in my line of work – it makes it hard to keep staff sometimes
• I could make more wishes come true for authors who work very hard to get where they are

What do you wish for?

 

There's Still Time

Jeff Cohen

Filling in for Shaz, who's under the weather (get back above the weather, Shaz!)...

For those of you who might have missed my Monday post (so you six who read it, feel free to skip on by), I'm mounting a campaign--and a very low-budget one--to promote my latest, A NIGHT AT THE OPERATION, by becoming a guest on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, a brilliant and sometimes overlooked late-night show that actually books (brace yourself) mystery authors like Laura Lippman and Lawrence Block, among others, as guests!

It's easy, and free, and you can help! Each night Ferguson reads some emails sent in to his address, craigferguson@cbs.com on the air. So if you're a fan of the Double Feature Mystery series and would like to see more, here's what you do:

Write up a very nice, very polite, complimentary email. Do NOT mention that I'm blogging about this (let them find it out for themselves), but say so if you're a fan of the show (it's really very funny) and/or the books (I think they're funny, and others have said so). Say you really appreciate seeing crime fiction authors on the show, and you're impressed they do so when so many others don't. You might mention that you're more inclined to watch when such authors are featured.

You could also--and this is entirely up to you--opine that I'd make a very funny, erudite (or just funny), entertaining guest. 

And send it to craigferguson@cbs.com

I don't expect anything to come of it, but who knows? Look what a Twitter campaign did for Chuck!

A Scandinavian, a moat and a cracking good party

Lynne Patrick

I’m not sure what will stay in my memory longest about CrimeFest 2009.

 

If you’d asked me last Thursday an hour after we arrived, I’d have said the panic about our Criminal Tendencies celebration event, scheduled for 5.30 on Friday but in the programme as 6.30. Would the word get around about the actual start time? Would anybody come?

 

If you’d asked me at 7pm on Friday, I’d have said the celebration event itself. Word got around. People came. Heck, everybody came. My only concern was how long would the wine last?

 

It lasted long enough to put everyone in a great mood. We raffled a copy of Criminal Tendencies signed by all twenty-six contributing authors (well, it will be by the end of July), and raised £150 for the National Hereditary Breast Cancer Helpline in less than an hour. And I lost count of the times someone said, “Hey, great party!”

 

Other highlights of this brilliant weekend convention included:

 

- the pub quiz, in which the Crème Team did not come last. OK, so we had a little help from Lizzie Hayes, Sarah Rayne and Sheila Quigley, who aren’t strictly speaking Crème de la Crime people, but aren’t these occasions about networking? (For which read having fun with like-minded people.)

 

- a couple of panels in which feelings ran pretty high. That’s what happens when an audience member announces that she doesn’t like anything the panel members write. Or a panel member mis-hears a question and thinks she’s being accused of writing triviality. It all added to the entertainment. All the panels I attended were interesting, but these two had the edge.

 

- Hakan Nesser. If you want to know why, ask any woman with red blood in her veins. About seven feet tall, a lean and hungry look and a dry Scandinavian wit. What more could we ask? One of my authors, the very witty Kaye C Hill, even got to sit next to him on her panel.

 

- Simon Brett. Crime writers are all thoroughly nice people, but surely he is one of the nicest. Though Andrew Taylor is a close second. And they both have stories in Criminal Tendencies.

 

- Gyles Brandreth’s interview with Simon Brett. I make no apology for mentioning him again. I can’t remember when I laughed so much. Mr Brandreth is a class act. Almost his first words when he stepped on the King’s Room stage were, “I used to be a Member of Parliament.” And that’s not a thing anyone admits lightly in these interminable days of whistle-blowing about excessive (and sometimes dodgy) expenses claims. “I wish it to be known,” he continued, “that when I was, I dug my own moat.” He got a round of applause and a lot of cheers.

 

We had to leave on Saturday afternoon, so we missed the Constable & Robinson party (bet it wasn’t as good as ours!) and the gala dinner, which was a great pity. So the above is just a flavour.

 

For the second year in a row – well done, Adrian Muller and Myles Allfrey. I hope you’re enjoying a well-earned rest at the moment. See you next year.

Subjectivity Just Means You're Wrong

By Barbara Poelle

Last week Husband and I went to a highly-lauded Broadway show which boasted Tony winners and a captivating story. The house was full and so was my belly, so I settled happily in my chair to enjoy an evening on the town with some high quality entertainment seated next to my handsome life partner.

Now,  there are several different ways to say “love”. You can love your new Kate Spades, you can love Mexican food, you can love your nephews and you can love your spouse and they are all different versions of love, yet they fall under the simple umbrella of the word without any true qualifiers. Like you can’t loveest something the most, or love squared something, but it is generally accepted that the surrounding phrase will allow the listener to understand which type of love you mean. The same could go for “hate” I guess. So I want to make sure that I am absolutely clear on this, as the surrounding phrase may be a bit ambiguous in meaning: I hated this show with the white hot super nova hatred of a thousand pillaging Norsemen. I hated this show with the kind of visceral hate that quite possibly created a rage goiter in my neck. I hated it to the point where I wished I would have brought a helmet full of bees to wear as that would have been more enjoyable to experience than this show.

This is the point where you think I am going to tell you the title, right? Ooohhh, nooo. No way. Uh-uh. Because people LOVE this show. And not just Jimmy Choo love, but Grandma and kittens love. Hold hands and cry a little love. So trust me when I say I am in the minority here, and I will zip my lip in order to avoid the fall out that would rain upon my head like a piñata filled with needles and cockroaches. (Wow, that may be the creepiest thing I have ever said.  I actually got a little light headed at the thought of that one.)  

Which brings me to the reviews, because, for the love of Blake Lively, why are people flocking to this show? I feel like the emperor is nude, preening and prancing through the streets of Manhattan while everyone oooh’s and ahhhh’s about his astounding new robes and I am like this dirty little street urchin standing on the dung wagon pointing and yelling, “Uhh, you guys, HE IS NAKED!”

Apparently, as Husband has tried to explain to me on several occasions, not everyone has the same opinion as I do. And FURTHERMORE, sometimes I can be wr-….wro…less right than other times. Now I know this. I get rejected so often by editors that I have a permanent dent on the surface my desk from dropping my head in anguish. This ain’t my first time at the Shame Rodeo.

Clearly I am involved in a truly subjective business. I have seen some bru-TAL reviews on some of my client’s works. I have been on the phone with clients who are making a high pitched keening sound heard only by hamsters and Dakota Fanning over some review, and I am able to completely ride it out and shut down the angst.  But my favorite example of subjectivity in publishing is among the agents. I was giving a talk in California recently and someone asked me, “Do you ever refer manuscripts to other agents in your agency?” and I was like, “Not only other agents in my agency, but in publishing. And I get referrals all the time from other agents.” This is the version of subjectivity that makes publishing ROCK.

Good writing will out. Maybe the story or the protagonist isn’t ringing my bells, but I if I think I can make a love connection for you with Janet Reid or Jen Schober I am absolutely going to send you their way. And they do the same for me. I always feel a sense of pride when someone signs or sells one of my referrals.  And it comes with a free gift of booze, too, as you know they are paying for drinks next time we go out.

So, I guess, all things considered, keeping a little subjectivity around is a good thing.

Subjectivity and a helmet full of bees.

 

 

Hey, Craig! Look over here!

Jeff Cohen

First of all: thanks to the wonderful reviewer and blogger Oline Cogdill for her post about "It's Just a Mystery" and A NIGHT AT THE OPERATION. If you haven't, please check it out. And you should read Oline's blogs whenever she posts. She's smart (not just because she likes my books) and can actually write.

An update: Looks like NBC has renewed "Chuck." Bravo, NBC.

Moving on: Our good friend PJ Nunn has often blogged in this space about the difficulty in getting her (author) clients booked onto the media outlets they (the clients) are most fervent about. I, for example, have often teased her about getting me an interview on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Now, I don't ever in a million years expect that to happen, but it's a good way to get PJ started on a Monday morning.

But aside from Stewart (who interviews no fiction authors at all, and only non-fiction authors whose books are tied to a national issue--and who does a fabulous job with it, by the way) and some of the morning shows (forget Oprah, who doesn't so much book authors as anoint them), the only national TV show that features authors is The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.

And here's the thing--Ferguson, a Scottish comedian who is truly brilliant in the post-Letterman spot (his recent opening featuring a bouncy song and puppets was nothing short of perfect), has actually interviewed mystery authors on his CBS show. Just this past week, he hosted the lovely and extremely talented Laura Lippman, and Laura did remarkably well, charming and funny. Ferguson has also recently had Lawrence Block on his show, and has done so before. He even has a very good mystery author (Tom Straw, of The Trigger Episode) on his writing staff. Bravo, Craig!

Okay: Those are two of the top crime fiction authors in the country (if not on the planet) right at the moment. And they should certainly be exposed to a huge audience on television, because they deserve it. I even understand the rationale for only booking big-name authors--the rest of us aren't going to increase the show's ratings by more than maybe 15 people.

But until such time as ABC gives up that silly Jimmy Kimmel experiment and books Obscure Mystery Authors Live!, there will be no logical outlet for we midlist-aspirants to find a network-sized group of people to tell about our books for the first time.

Unless we all get together and do something about it.

Here's what I propose: One regular segment of Ferguson's show involves him reading emails that come in from viewers, and he answers the funnier ones on the air. This is a great bit, as Ferguson has a quick mind and a sardonic edge that works perfectly for this type of interaction. 

It also provides us with a working email address for the show, if not the host himself: craigferguson@cbs.com. And I'll bet you can see where I'm going with this.

Let's all email the show, and applaud Craig for including mystery authors among his guests. Then, just if we feel like it, we could suggest a mystery author who might be an affable, humorous, entertaining guest for the show. Let's see... someone like...

Okay, me.

Now, I don't expect this to work. Frankly, I'll be amazed (and grateful) if two of you actually send emails. But I do think it's worthwhile to let someone at The Late Late Show know we appreciate the interviews with authors. And what the hell, it's worth a try. Please feel free to do so, and mention that the book is very funny (if you think it is) and I would make a good guest.

That's craigferguson@cbs.com and you could mention that A NIGHT AT THE OPERATION is brand spankin' new.

I'm just saying.

P.S. A special shout-out to our very own Denise Dietz, whose latest terrific mystery Strangle A Loaf of Italian Bread is extremely newly published! Another very funny Ellie Bernstein/Peter Miller mystery, Deni! Best of luck!

Retirement

Well, I know I promised a follow-up to my print run discussion, dealing with e-rights. I'd hoped to do some research and have some discussions with the other half of Bleak House (Ben) during the week, but my hopes did not reach fruition. I don't want to babble about e-rights until I've got a bit more solid ground under my feet, so I'm postponing it again. Sorry, guys!

However, something kinda big happened this week: I officially retired from roller derby.

Yes, last night's championship bout was my last on skates.

It's been five years since that beautiful, late summer day when my best friend and I attended the Willy St. Fair. Rebekah was living with me in Madison until November, working for moveon.org; I was working with Ben for Bleak House and holding down a day job at the awesome local natural pet food store Madcat. Rebekah and I were walking around the outdoor fair when we saw a card table, behind which stood some seriously intimidating-looking girls on quad skates.

Naturally, we walked by the table a few times, circling like timid sharks, waiting for one of the girls to notice us and invite us over. In a lucky bit of ... well, luck, I'd purchased a bright yellow, white-polka-dotted vintage dress while at the fair. I'd changed into it in the bathroom at Madcat (it was a beautiful day, a sun dress was pretty much required). On our (I think?) fourth circut past the roller derby table, a skater known as Boom Boom called out, "Hey, girl in the yellow dress, do you want to play roller derby?"

"Me?" I indicated by demurely placing my hand to my chest. "Why, yes! And so does Rebekah!" We skipped over to the skaters, eager to discover just what exactly we were being invited to join. We'd pretty much already decided that we were in; we just needed to find out what we were in for.

(Sorry about that sentence-ending preposition.)

At our first practice, we laced up rental skates (on loan from the rink the Mad Rollin' Dolls use as practice space) and basically reenacted Bambi on Ice. While other skaters zoomed around, crossing over at the corners, turn-stopping on their toe stops, and (gasp!) skating backwards, Rebekah and I shuffled our feet, our knees locked, our arms out like wings, our eyes on the ground in front of us. Though we failed to immediately take to the wheels on our feet, we were hooked. Predator, a skater with dreads and flame tattoos up both her calves, took our orders for pads and helmets. They'd be waiting for us at our next practice.

And boy, that next practice. I can't adequately express the freedom I felt when I pulled on my protective gear for the first time. I felt ... fearless. I could fall down, and it didn't hurt. I could risk skating a bit faster. I could try to balance on one leg. I bent my knees a bit more. I pulled in my arms. I looked forward, not down. I didn't need to see the ground, because even if I ended up there, I'd be safe.

Rebekah and I wore our gear in the car on the way home that day. Kneepads, elbowpads, wristguards, helmet, mouthguard. If it kept us safe on the track, it could keep us safe anywhere!
.......

Five years and over thirty bouts later, I'm ready to be done.

I've just been eleced General Manager of our league, and I'm exicted to dedicate my time to new ideas, new promotions, new marketing efforts, and the increased success of the Mad Rollin' Dolls.

My feet will miss having wheels on them, but it's time. Sometimes you just know.

And I still have that yellow dress. The next time I encouter something that looks interesting, I'll be sure to put it on -- it helps me get the courage to try something new.

History Mystery Mother's Day & the Lucky Shirt

Robin Agnew

Every Mother's Day for the past 12 or more years, I've spent Mother's Day at the store hosting a variety of historical mystery writers and taking them out for a Mother's Day dinner after.  It evolved naturally - there's a medieval congress in Kalamazoo every year on that weekend.  Kalamazoo, about an hour and a half awy, is so close that naturally when authors like Sharan Newman, Margaret Frazer and Candace Robb began attending the Congress it seemed like a good idea for them to finish their weekend in Ann Arbor.  Not all three of them came every year, but it was always some combination, often also including Alan Gordon.

This year, none of them had new books out and it seemed pointless for them to make the drive, much as I enjoy what has become one of my favorite party events of the year (we always serve coffee and cookies at the event).  And because the crowd had gotten larger and more stable, it seemed foolish not to continute this event in some form.  Even our assistant Marty, who doesn't care too much one way or the other about events, said he thought we should keep it going.

Early on I was able to book Tasha Alexander, who lives in Chicago, and Kathryn Miller Haines, who lives in Pittsburgh.  For awhile Alan Gordon was attached but then his pub date got pushed way back, so the quest for a third author was on.  It needed to be someone who lived close enough for it to be a sensible drive.  Happily, late in the game, I discovered that Carrie Bebris lives in Dayton, and she agreed to come.

I had my panel, and I even had a killer title: "Jane Austen, WWII and Victorian Britain."  It would be the odd mother or daughter reader who wasn't interested in at least one of those topics, if not all three.  I felt secure.  I felt good.  I even bought some ad space in the newspaper, something I rarely do on the scale I did for this event.  The day of the event, I felt nauseous.  I was sure no one would show up.  But I put on my lucky shirt, just in case it would help.

My daughter and I trundled into the store to set up (involves moving our bookshelves on wheels out of the way) and of course we were ready a good 45 minutes early.  No one was there.  One of our regulars, a guy who thinks few people can write anymore, or at least not like his beloved John Dickson Carr, wandered in.  I buttonholed him (he's a very nice man) and made him sit down.  There still weren't too many people, so I made my daughter call one of her friends, and she turned up.

The authors started to trickle in, and thankfully, so did the audience.  I usually don't get this anxious, but I felt so responsible because I'd asked all these lovely women to take the time to drive over here, on Mother's Day no less (Carrie Bebris brought her own daughter), and none of them even had new books out.  It was all "off" schedule.  To my surprise, none of the women had met, but they were all friendly, and when they started to talk, it turned out to be one of those magical combinations where everyone "gelled".  The audience ate them up with a spoon, and as it turned out every chair ended up being filled and we sold a very satisfactory number of books.

My hsuband says my "lucky shirt" is a silly superstition, but I think I've proven him wrong.  Next event, it's definitely coming out of the closet...

Favorites

PJ Nunn

I'm not sure I could pick an absolute favorite time of year, but I have to say that this is one of my favorites. In spite of the encroaching humid heat of an early Texas summer, I love what this time of year brings.

Every day I take delivery of boxes and boxes of new ARCs and books. Finished copies of books that we're helping to promote from earlier this year, complete with the joy that comes of knowing there's still such a demand for these January and February releases that we had to request more from the publisher because we've used up the first shipments. Finished copies of new releases that will be available for sale in June, and ARCs of those that won't hit the shelves until July, August and September.

Even though my office and the bookshelves that populate it are in a constant state of disarray, and Caleb helps me reshelve almost every day, there's just nothing like the smell of new books. I think it's better than that new car smell my husband loves so much.

It's probably my busiest time of year because more authors tour in the summer. I've already scheduled almost 100 events this month and it's just now the middle of the month. Like Hannibal used to say, "I love it when a plan comes together."

I love it when clients take the time to thank me and I can tell that they're really happy with something we've done for them. I never want them to know how hard we work to make things happen sometimes, but it's really nice when I can tell that they appreciate something we worked hard to make happen.

I also love it when I hear from a client who's just finished an interview or event that the person they spoke with mentioned that they enjoyed working with us. It makes me feel good to know that my staff is making a good impression on the people we work with. In the hectic world of guest scheduling, it's sometimes hard to manage a professional demeanor in hasty phone calls and repetitive messages.

I love it when an event we've been working on literally for months finally comes together. All too often they don't but it's important to persist until you get a yes or no answer. Otherwise you'd always wonder if it would have happened had you called just one more time.

I love it when a guest booker I've worked with for hours and hours and hours over a period of months calls me first when they need someone the next time. That shows me I made a good investment of time.

It may be a surprise, but I even love it when a disgruntled client tells me they're unhappy. It's never a pleasant thing to hear, but I totally appreciate the candor and the opportunity to make up for whatever made them disatisfied. If I had my way, no client would ever go away unhappy and I do my best to make sure that doesn't happen.

Finally, I love the books themselves. While not everything I represent is something I'd ordinarily pick off the shelf for personal reading, I know what it takes to bring a book to publication and I deeply respect every author for not only the talent, but the sheer perseverance it takes to birth that baby, then to know that the real work is just beginning. Having birthed five flesh and blood children myself, and having written several as-yet-unpublished novels, I understand the parallels and want to treat them each with the respect they deserve.

I wish everyone could love their job like I love mine! What do you love about this business?

A day at the seaside

Lynne Patrick

A few months ago when I was planning the marketing campaign for Criminal Tendencies, our charity short story collection, so convinced was I that bookshops, libraries and social groups would find our promotion events irresistible that I developed a mental picture of three nights out a week during April and the first half of May. In fact, I braced myself for it, booked an energising massage for late March, consciously kept other activity to the necessary minimum, and issued a kind of warning apology to my valiant team of authors who had volunteered to help share the load.

 

Talk about the best laid plans of mice, men and small indie publishers… As it turned out, we had time to take a few days’ holiday.

 

But all I’d miscalculated was the timing. As of last week it’s all kicking off. By the end of July I confidently expect to be in great need of another massage, this time a reviving one, and I shall probably sleep through most of August. Except the days I have a promotion event…

 

It began last week. Not exactly a promotion event for Criminal Tendencies, though it did get an honourable mention, as it does everywhere we go at the moment. This was a launch of Secret Lament, the third in Roz Southey’s brilliant 18^th century series starring a jobbing musician. (The first two went down very well indeed in the US, so let me take the opportunity to get the first of many shameless plugs in: it will be available through Dufour Editions in October.)

 

Roz is an ace promoter of her work, and has formed some warm and useful relationships with libraries and booksellers in her area. The launch made use of both library and bookseller. The host venue was the branch library in Whitley Bay, a pretty coastal town not far from Newcastle where the books are set; the local branch of Borders UK sent a young lady with a large box of books, and she was very pleased with the number she sold.

 

And what a very pleasant evening it was. The good folk of Whitley Bay turned out in their… well, dozens, actually, it’s not a very big place, but it was a good crowd. They asked some quite searching questions, including, is it actually possible to research what the weather was like in June 1738? (A heatwave plays a significant part in the action.) The answer was no, that bit was pure fiction – though it did make me start wondering about the psychic powers of another of our authors, Maureen Carter. In her latest, Birmingham gets six inches of snow at the end of January. She was writing this last September; and guess what Birmingham got at the end of January? How did she know?

 

But I digress. Haven’t done that for a while… Back to Whitley Bay.

 

The town has sentimental associations for my other half; he lived there was a while, back in the dark ages when he was a student. His memory isn’t what it used to be; he narrowed down the street he lived on to a shortlist of two possibles, but couldn’t be sure which it was. But the Metro station he travelled from to get to his lectures, the pub he frequented in the evening and the beach he played football on at weekends were all exactly where he left them. And the fish and chips we ate while gazing out at the North Sea were absolutely delicious. Some things don’t change.

 

Tomorrow we’re off on our travels again, this time to Bristol, for CrimeFest, the UK’s scaled-down answer to Bouchercon. Watch this space…

Springtime Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry

By Barbara Poelle

Well, I snapped at the security guy at Whole Foods. Totally justified, though.

See, the thing is, you fight 7000 people to get to the frakin’ albacore tuna salad and then you stand in line for 6 or 7 hours in the check out, so by the end, simply putting your wallet away burns the very last of the calories your body has stored for survival. Like, you can’t even blink at that point or you would collapse. So I of course am already munching on the tuna salad while I head down the chute to the exit with the plastic fork provided for me at the end of the checkout lines. Now, it is important here that I call it a chute, because it is basically just two rows of dry goods bottlenecking us all from the checkout lines toward the exit doors.  There is no escaping the chute. Once you are in, you are out.  So I am happily heading down the chute and into the exit when the security guard, who was not old enough to grow the facial hair he so desperately wanted to on his upper lip, says, “Excuse me young lady, can I see a receipt for that?”

Okay, now, there are several things about this situation that are going to equal something going very badly, very quickly for our friend in blue here.  First off, young lady? While most may find that a bit endearing or perhaps complimentary, it immediately made me Catholic and seven again.  Beyond that, this dude has not even seen the slippery side of 25 yet, so give me a break.

Second, are you &$#^* serious? I mean are you &%#@* SERIOUS? There is no possible way to get into this chute without passing through the checkout lanes AND I have a frakin’ plastic fork from the end cap on the checkout lane AND I am carrying two bags- one full of books and one full of the detritus of my life. Are you really thinking that I am going to waltz out flashing stolen goods, Colombo?  Because I was thinking maybe I would PUT IT IN ONE OF MY BAGS.  

This is kind of the gist of what I said to ol’ Barney there. But he just kept staring at me, so I dug, and I mean dug, through the flotsam and jetsam of my purse and pulled it out, while balancing my OPEN container and my other bag, and despite having only purchased said tuna salad, he looked at the receipt for 15 seconds. I know it was 15 seconds, because I managed to get in one heavy sigh, an eye roll, and a scoop of tuna in that time.

Finally, Magnum PI hands me the receipt back and says quietly, “Thank you, miss.”

Well, I feel like I should probably kill myself now.

I admit, that on very rare occasions, and only when asked repeatedly, I may perchance offer up a gentle opinion or observation. (Did you hear that thunk? That was husband falling over.) But Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen did I have to do it to the Whole Foods security guard?

So I of course called Husband and told him I was an awful person who deserved to get mercury poisoning from the tuna and he talked me out of going back in there to say something which is just as well because it takes a long time to write “crazy shouting tuna salad lady who hurt my feelings” on your List of People to Kill and I wouldn’t want to interrupt him. Then Husband may have casually mentioned that perhaps I am wound a little tightly and perhaps should get some exercise that evening in order to get some of my aggressions out. After I verbally slaughtered him for suggesting not only that I am “wound tightly” but that I need to exercise, I thought about it and concurred.

I love running in NYC, and I really enjoy a good run before or after work. But my favorite time to run is right at noon-I love the hot sun blasting down on me as I go. Unfortunately, it is hard to go running at lunch at the office because I come back smelling like something an anaconda couldn’t quite digest.  So I have to reserve my best runs for the weekend. And by runs, I mean only 4 or 5 miles. I loves me some 5K races, but would be interested in seeing how I would do in a 10K and then a half marathon. Which brings me to what can only be described as a shameless, self serving plug, (but what else would you expect from a Whole Foods Security Guard abuser?), you have to read RUNNING FROM THE DEVIL by Jamie Freveletti. (http://www.jamiefreveletti.com/)  I signed Jamie with this manuscript in part because the protagonist is just so unique and fascinating- she is an endurance marathon runner, meaning she runs these monster races in intense locations, like 100 miles through Death Valley and stuff. Jamie, a runner herself, has been involved with these races for years (I am pretty sure her husband, Klaus, runs in some) so she created a plot where her character, an ultra marathoner, is literally running for her life. I promise not to do shameless plugs anymore (that’s a lie), but do yourself a favor and read this thriller.  Now whenever I am running and I think I just can’t go another mile I pretend I am Emma Caldridge, plowing through the Columbian jungle, and it works every time.  

So we all have Jamie and her character to thank for me not verbally abusing the cab driver who insisted he knew how to get to my apartment but ended up in Brooklyn.

 (Lie. I truly unleashed. I’m pretty sure it was almost in rhyming couplets at one point.)

Well, I am trying at least. I mean, now I am working on at least feeling bad after. That’s progress.

 

Ps. Whole Foods security guy if you are reading this, I am sorry. But COME ON! Are you serious? Wow, Jessica Fletcher, where were you when we were all looking for Hoffa and the Lindbergh baby, huh? I mean, how in the name of Clay Aiken could you possibly… wait. I’m doing it again, aren’t I. Off to run.

Malice, Oakmont and Susan Boyle

Jeff Cohen

I spent five days last weekend (no, that's not an exaggeration) promoting my books. The Malice Domestic conference, a favorite I was forced to skip last year, was back on the itinerary, and we had a blast. For those of you who were not able to attend, or who were in Arlington but not at the Humor Panel and the Sleuth Off, I'd advise you to get a copy of the recordings when they're available, because we had a great time, there were tons of laughs, and you can skip everything I said on the tape and still hear lots of funny people saying lots of funny things. It was a great time, indeed.

Always good to see pals like Chris Grabenstein, Rosemary Harris, Jane Cleland, Leann Sweeney (it was YOUR CHAIR, Leann!), Lorraine Bartlett, Don Bruns, Elaine Viets and many, many others I'm unintentionally leaving out. It was good to see Parnell Hall and remember that in addition to being a very funny writer, he's also a really nice man (sorry to ruin your reputation, Parnell!). I sat out the banquet (I usually do) and had dinner with a reader from the Twin Cities area in Minnesota, and had a lovely time, then caught up with everyone--including my exceptional agent--at the bar later on.

Then it was time to drive to Oakmont, PA (thank goodness Toyota invented the Prius) for the Festival of Mystery sponsored by the Mystery Lovers Bookshop. This was my first time there, and if you've never been, you're really missing something. Yeah, the rest of the country might be suffering through a recession, yes, some people are wearing surgical masks to avoid getting a cold, uh-huh, there are nuclear weapons we can't be sure won't fall into the wrong hands--yet in Oakmont, PA, people are lining up for hours in the rain to pay a fee for the privilege to buy lots and lots of books.

That's impressive. As an author, nothing could be more gratifying than having people walk over and buy every single book in your series because they like the covers. Or the titles. Or because they read something about your somewhere and figured they'd give you a try. And having them talk about books with you, and with other authors. Seeing people walk out with a wheelbarrow full of books. Enough can't be said about the amazing owners of the store, the incredible staff, the volunteers and the people who brought the pizza. And then to have the honor of signing the bathroom wall (seriously)? Perfect.

The morning after the Festival, it was time to hop back into the Prius and (on less than one tank of gas) drive to Philadelphia, where I teach screenwriting on Tuesdays. And after that, up the good ol' New Jersey Turnpike to my long-lost home and the two-thirds of my loving family actually residing there right now.

And that brings me to Susan Boyle. By now, assuming you're a breathing human, you've heard about the 47-year-old lady, not exactly svelte and gorgeous, who has taken the U.K.--and then the world--by storm by singing quite nicely on British TV a tune from a Broadway musical. The video of said event--which apparently was on something equivalent to American Idol, another show I've never seen--has been seen more than 120-million times on YouTube.

That's 120-million times.

What's that got to do with the Festival of Mystery and Malice Domestic? A couple of weeks ago, I blogged here about how it feels to be treated like a celebrity (an extremely minor one, granted, but nonetheless) at book conventions and events, and how lovely that feels for as long as it lasts.

Well, Ms. Boyle is no doubt now basking in the glow of her sudden super-stardom. She seems to be relatively down-to-earth, so there's been no talk about her having diva-like fits or demanding that all the M&Ms backstage at the show she's on be re-dyed chartreuse. But you know that she's being told all sorts of things about her future. There will, no doubt, be a recording contract. I'm willing to bet someone's talking about a movie, at least on Lifetime.

And I'd be positively astonished if a book deal wasn't in the works.

Now. The author in me wants to know--what's a guy gotta do? Hey, I have a music video on YouTube. Part of it required that I dress up like a middle-aged lady who was, believe me, neither svelte nor gorgeous. But unlike Ms. Boyle, I wrote my own song--yeah, I didn't fall back on the guys who composed Les Miz; I made up my own song from scratch, music and lyrics. And I didn't have a lush orchestra behind me--I played guitar myself while singing the song.

As of this writing, that video has been seen 427 times. So I only have 119,999,573 views to catch up. 

Now, I begrudge Susan Boyle nothing. She has earned whatever comes to her. I think it's a sweet story; I do.

But hey, fair's fair. Yeah, she sings better than I do, but am I putting out an album? No! So what's my point?

Damned if I know. All that driving made me a little goofy. 

Scatteration

Hello, Blogosphere!

I have some quick, scattered words for you today, and I apologize for not being more cogent and topical. I promise next week I'll post a follow-up to last week's print run discussion, addressing erights (thanks for all the great questions, Maria!).

First of all, I'm in Cincinnati! That's right, I'm blogging live from a Quality Inn in the city which Nathan Singer calls home. Last night, my beautiful, beautiful travel derby teams, Team Unicorn and the Dairyland Dolls, took on the two Cincinnati Rollergirls teams (the Black Sheep and the Silent Lambs). We were crazy victorious, and I'm really proud of how everyone played (especially my fellow sparkly Unicorns). We not only won the bouts, but I'm pretty sure we won the afterparty, as well.

Secondly, I talked in the comments of Barbara's last post about my mom's school district and their librarians. The school board is voting tomorrow on possibly eliminating one of the librarian postitions. Here's the pasted text:

Hi, all! Thanks for the concerned interest.

My mom teaches in the Oregon, WI School District. There's going to be a vote next Monday regarding the district's current librarian positions. A position may be in danger of being eliminated -- I don't have all of the finer details of the decision before the School Board, but what I do know is this:

Librarians are ESSENTIAL.

And they're essential everywhere, not just in schools in Oregon, WI.

So I'm asking a favor. Please take a moment today to write an email to your local school district's superintendent in support of librarians. And if you'd like, you can also write to the superintendent of the Oregon School District, Brian Busler (BSB AT oregonsd DOT org), encouraging him to keep all librarian positions in Oregon staffed.

In case you were wondering, it was an elementary school librarian who put me on the path to mystery editing. My letter to the Oregon School District is below.

Thanks again for your interest, and if you have time today, spread some love for your local librarians!

_______________

Dear Oregon School Board,

I'm writing today in support of librarians in schools.

A school librarian is a guardian, a resource, and an inspiration for all the students whose reading s/he can influence.

With your district's declared focus on literacy, a librarian is vital. S/he can provide personal contact for the kids; place a book in a hand with a knowledge of each child's particular tastes and interests.

I fondly remember my elementary school librarian, Mrs. Goerger. She constantly engaged students with library displays and programs (like the time in 1988 when she ran a mock presidential election for us, and we were able to keep up with the candidates' platforms and vote in November). She's also indirectly responsible for my career path. It was Mrs Goerger, back in fifth grade, who took notice of my interest in puzzles and mysteries, and handed me the volume of Sherlock Holmes adventures. Those stories captivated me, and I fall back on them still today in my capacity as editor of a small publishing house specializing in crime fiction.

I credit my parents, ultimately, for my love of reading, but I would be remiss not to also acknowledge the overwhelming influence of my school's librarian. My parents created the time and space for me to read; Mrs. Goerger provided me the material at a time when I was too young to know how to navigate the library's overwhelming wealth of good books.

A love of reading must be taught, just as much as the laws of physics and the workings of democracy. Taking away a school's librarian will hamper that educational goal just as much as firing the science or social studies teacher.

Please, let your students have an opportunity to learn to love to read. Let your librarian teach them.

Third, and finally, Happy Mother's Day, Mom and Julie. Thanks for giving birth to me, and everything since! I love you.

(I love you even though you put me in bonnets like this.)

Prom

Robin Agnew

I confess, my mind wasn't on bookselling this week (well, it was a little bit), but on prom.  I had always hoped my daughter would go - she's a senior & about to graduate - but she is in fact, just as I was, shy, bookish and quiet.  However she has a great group pf girlfriends,  some of them she's known since 2nd grade, and many of them wanted to go to the prom, stag. 

I think this is a great idea.  Instead of spending a gazillion dollars on a dress that she'll wear for two hours I went ahead and spent Tuesday and Wednesday making her one.  Repeating she "shy" description she didn't want anything plunging.  She's going with 3 other girls.  I think the other girls are wearing vintage dresses or got them at the thrift store.  It's a bargain evening out for them.

But really this is distracting me from the big Kahuna, graduation.  She's finished with high school in two weeks and graduates June 4 - I really can't wrap my brain around it since about a minute ago she was a toddler.  However, she is more than ready for this step (she's actually counting down the days until graduation).  it's odd, I know it's great for her to be moving on, but we're all going to miss her so much!

I'm distracting myself more by hosting her graduation party - along with 4 of her friends - at my house.  She has lots of relatives coming in for the occasion.  Then is August it's off to Ripon College in Ripon, Wisconsin.  I think she's made a wonderful choice and is going to have 4 great years.  She asked for a school smaller than her 3,000 student high school, and at 950 students, Ripon fills the bill.  Come August, though, I may need a bit more distraction.

Let's talk

PJ Nunn

I've been wondering lately, whatever happened to the art of conversation? There should be classes. The simple task of communication, so critical to writers, seems to be a lost cause in our society. 

To be fair, it may be primarily in the medical community, as that's where I draw my material from at this point, but I suspect that the collective intelligence all around us is spiraling downward. I won't talk about what I've seen in the realm of secondary education recently. That's a whole different thing.

I had the unpleasant opportunity to spend an evening in the local emergency room last week as my blood pressure decided to spike for no good reason and my regular meds weren't bringing it down fast enough to suit my doctor. So with a grimace and a sigh, I asked my husband to drop me off on his way to a meeting and I proceeded to sit in a waiting room with a growing crowd of people and small ones, many of whom opted to wear masks in fear of contracting swine flu from those who were there to spread it. Add to that the timely announcement on the evening news blaring in the waiting room that the Ft. Worth ISD was cancelling all classes through May 11. At that point, coughing and anxiety increased. Communication. But that's not the point.

After waiting for some five hours (argh) it was finally my turn to be seen. By that time, my blood pressure had happily returned to normal of its own volition, but to be sure I hadn't wasted my time, the doc decided to run some tests anyway. He discovered what I already knew - I had a sinus infection that was probably causing my numbers to jump and was already taking medication for it. Not to be useless, he determined it would be best to prescribe another medication and sent a nurse in to give me the news.

I asked a simple question (or so I thought). Do I take this in addition to what I'm already taking or do I stop taking the previous antibiotic and replace it with this one?

His answer? Yes.

Granted, it was well after midnight by then, and I'm sure his whole shift had been chaotic, but yes? Yes to which option? I asked again in a less complex sentence and was able to determine which had been the correct choice.

I'm sure there are some who think his first answer was a completely understandable one as he said "yes" to the latter of the two choices I mentioned. But technically, a question such as I posed is not accurately answered with a yes or no. Had I assumed the first choice rather than the latter, I'd have been taking two medications and could have had serious adverse effects. Malpractice even. The nurse may have been tired, but he didn't communicate well the information I needed. That happens all too often these days.

Another common communication problem involves assumption and interpretation. "That's not what you said!" "You know what I meant!"  Inferences. Intimations. Inflections and innuendos. All can easily lead to misunderstanding and misinterpretation.

I find it interesting that authors who make a career out of careful, written communication can often be sadly lacking when it comes to the spoken transmission of ideas and information. And while we might all like to think the talent speaks for itself, we know that isn't always true. First impressions, good or bad, are really hard to overcome and in many cases, it's the author that makes the first impression, not the book. That comes later.

So, at least as far as book promotion is concerned, effective speaking and communcation skills are imperative for an author. What do you see in the realm of communication? And how might we all improve in this area?

Once more with feeling

Sharon Wheeler

A Freecycler came round the other day to collect a lamp and give it more TLC than I’ll manage – and did an impersonation of a guppy when he spotted the mountains of books propping my house up.

His first question – and that of many visitors – was “have you read them all?” I said I hadn’t, but spared him my usual follow-on explanation of ‘that’s the must-review pile, the one behind it is the might reviews and the one behind that the do not touch with a bargepole. Oh, and the poetry and theatre books are much-loved and dipped into often. The sports books are for work as well as pleasure, and the foreign literature section is to make me look learned.’

Sadly no one’s fooled by the latter, and my brother uses it as ammunition to remind me that when we shared a house about 15 years ago, Calvin and Hobbes had pride of place in front of Camus, Sartre, Grass, Bulgakov and Solzhenitsyn – and visitors always dived for the comic books!

The friendly Freecycler then said that he was a fan of thrillers and often re-read them. I replied that I rarely re-read books for the simple reason that there are too many unread ones in my house and too little time in which to get through them. And generally I have no urge to go through crime fiction books a second time, as the element of surprise at the end has gone (not that that’s the only reason for reading them in the first place, I hasten to add).

This week, though, I’m re-reading some Reginald Hill books (sssh, don’t tell my RTE co-editor Yvonne Klein, as I should be concentrating on the backlog of reviews) for some research I’m doing. The fact that even 20 years on I can remember the endings of most them doesn’t matter a bit, as I’m wallowing happily in Hill’s wit and characterisation.

Where I’ve adored a book, I’m also too nervous to re-read it in case it doesn’t stand up to my memories of it. It took being dug in the ribs by my book group to suggest Mary Doria Russell’s The Sparrow as a monthly read – and part of  my rationale for selecting it was to see if I liked it as much as when I’d first read it ten years previously. I did.

Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley series is one of my all-time favourites, and I’ve probably read each book three or four times. As with Hill, the plot doesn’t matter, as they’re books you read for more than wondering whodunit and whether you’ll be smart enough to suss it out before the investigator does.

A friend of mine re-reads War and Peace once a year. I’m still trying to read it for the first time. And even though I’m loving the time I’m spending with Hill again, I can’t imagine my well-developed sense of reviewer’s guilt will allow me to stay away from the review piles for long. But it’s good to be reminded occasionally of just why you fell in love with a book or author.

World domination and other trivia

Lynne Patrick

A book I was reading the other day was published a few years ago, and it made me stop and think about how fast technology progresses. It mentioned a useful little gadget you could use to transfer information from one computer to another if the first computer didn’t have a CD burner. It was a kind of stick-thing, three inches long by half an inch wide, and if you plugged it into a spare USB port on your computer and downloaded some software, it would hold as much information as a CD, with the added advantage that you could delete the files and reuse the space. And best of all, it didn’t matter if your computer was a Mac or a PC. Either would copy on to or read the gadget. The only downsides appeared to be a) they weren’t cheap, and b) you had to buy one the same make as your computer.

 

When we were starting out five years ago, somebody showed me one of these. It was the Mac/PC thing that attracted me. Our designer worked – still works – on a Mac, we had – still have – PCs, and they wouldn’t talk to each other.

 

These days those gadgets are as prolific as I’m hoping the strawberries will be in my garden in a month or so. Unlike strawberries, they still don’t have a definitive name – memory sticks, flash disks, USB drives, half a dozen labels for the same piece of kit. And unless you’re still operating on dinosaur software, you don’t need to download anything or make sure you buy the right kind. They hold gigabytes, not megabytes, of information. And they’re a lot cheaper than they used to be.

 

It seems to happen with every new development. First it comes in Heinz 57 varieties (everyone under 40, ask your parents to explain that antique reference) and everyone has their favourite. Then one variety floats to the top of the heap, everyone buys that one and the price comes down. First it was home computers. Back in the 1980s everyone I knew had a different kind, and no two were compatible. Then remember 5-inch floppy disks? (The black ones that really were floppy. Before CDs.)  Betamax video players? (OK, hands up who remembers what a video player is…) And actually home computers didn’t come first. Cassette and eight-track tape players predate then by at least a decade.

 

No matter; the principle holds. In each case, all but one kind fell into oblivion, never to be heard of again, though a lot of people swore they were the superior version.

 

Goodness knows why one survives and the others fall. My theory is that the winners have the world domination gene: certainly the case with Microsoft, who gathered all the computers together and made them talk to each other (though they never quite conquered Apple Mac). 

 

Now it’s happened again, this time with ebooks. Love them or hate them, everybody’s talking about them. Sooner or later someone will be more determined, or better at marketing, than everyone else; the multiple versions of the technology will fall away and leave one survivor to mop up all the profits. Amazon certainly seem to have the world domination gene, given the number of small bookshops who claim internet sales as the reason for their bankruptcy; so maybe the Kindle will be the winner.

 

I already have an aversion to reading from any kind of screen, so I have a feeling that a book-sized one is going to put me right off, no matter how convenient in terms of storage space/ useful for plane travel and vacations it turns out to be. I’ve resisted mobile phones, after all; this should be easier.

 

But for the moment I’m keeping a watching brief. At least until I see who emerges as the world dominator.

Shoes Make the Man

by Barbara Poelle

I am in California- LA first and then up to the Bay Area to hang with Sophie Littlefield and friends (A Bad Day For Sorry, pre order NOW on Amazon! Do it!) and I am a little bit homesick. I used to live here, Los Angeles, surviving on a diet of club soda and rage-all toned and feral. Ahh, those were the days: when I used oxygen as a food group and carbohydrates were on the same level as pedophiles. Oh, size two; you have gone the way of the jelly shoe.  I miss you both.

Which reminds me, I have to look dirty hot for a wedding in June, and I think the best way to get there would be to roll around in some swine flu, but statistically speaking I have more of a chance of getting injured by my own toilet than catching that so I guess I’m out of luck. Where’s Captain Tripps when you need it?

This wedding is going to be amazing and I know I am supposed to say that it’s going to be all about celebrating the love of Husband’s Bro (known from here on out as HBro) and Posh (no, seriously, HBro’s wife2be looks exactly like Posh spice. Exactly. Thank goodness I bear such a strong resemblance to Gene Wilder so that we both get fake celeb attention when we go out or I might feel bad about myself.) Anyway, I know I am supposed to be all about  love and eternity and stuff, and I am, don’t get me wrong, If I could have HAND PICKED HBro’s wife I would have picked Posh. Oooh, I wish I could have. Like on a sweet yet sassy reality show called “My HBro’s Keeper” where husband and I would choose the bride for HBro by making them do weird and accidentally suggestive things. Posh would have MURDERED the competition. Seriously. At the end of the show there would just be Posh standing there, slightly out of breath, while holding a hunk of human hair and one Jimmy Choo.

Anyway, so Posh is going to be gorgeous and the wedding is a stunning outdoor spectacle and everyone will live happily ever after, but let’s talk about the bestest most fabulous part of the whole thing: my bridesmaid shoes. Oh, yes, strappy fuchsia Kate Spades, screw the photo album, you are now topping the list of things to rescue in a fire (are you paying attention Husband?). These shoes are so spicy, so naughty/nice that my joyous weeping at the altar may have nothing to do with the nuptials.

Shoes are such a passé obsession, I know, but the thing is that these shoes will not only change the way that I feel and look, but how I carry myself. For example, I used to sing a bit of opera. Don’t get excited. Only Root and vodka can make me sing. Anyway, sometimes I had trouble hitting this E over high C and my voice teacher would make me bring my highest heels to the session and bam! I floated that sucker like it had wings. Then when I had to do a particular lower section she would make me take me shoes and socks off and sing barefoot. Nailed it.  This insured that I knew I had the notes in me when it was go time.

This is something to think about as far as characters. No, stay with me here. There is a famous actor who picks out his character’s shoes before even stepping on the set.  Think about it. They affect stature, carriage, stride, gait, motion, and stance and those attributes in turn can help create the foundation of a persona. I’m just saying, next time if you are in a jam trying to figure out a new angle to take for your character, try starting with the feet.

If it helps, I’ll post a picture of my feet from the wedding. You can thank me later. 

PS-On a total side note, I got this from Allison today. Check it out...she'll comment more in a bit....

 I'd like to post a brief Outrage, Shock, & Call to Action! I just found out that my mom's school district's board is voting next week to possibly eliminate the position of "librarian" in their schools. (My mom teaches 5th & 6th grade music.)So if we have any Wisconsin readers, email the board and encourage them to keep the librarians employed....

Save "Chuck"

Jeff Cohen

This'll be quick, since I'm writing it before leaving for Malice Domestic and then the Festival of Mystery in Oakmont, PA and THEN my regular teaching gig in Philadelphia before landing back at home tomorrow (Tuesday) night. I'll tell you about all that next week.

I've just finished my trek (timely word this week, no?) through the complete DVD set of The Man From U.N.C.L.E., and I have to say, it was a grand journey. Nostalgia can only take one so far, so the fact that I loved each and every U.N.C.L.E. episode (with the excruciating exceptions of some Season 3 turkeys, when they thought they had to be as camp as Batman) really says something.

And that's why we must save Chuck. 

The struggling spy comedy on NBC (which is cutting one-hour dramas so they can put Jay Leno on five nights a week) needs all the help it can get, and the show deserves it. A goofy spin on spy shows that never, ever sacrifices its respect for its characters, Chuck tells the story of an overqualified member of the "Nerd Herd" at a very Best Buy-like electronics store, who through a series of circumstances (rent the DVDs from Netflix, if you haven't seen them) ends up with tons and tons of spy information uploaded into his brain. He is then assigned a team of "handlers," a CIA agent (of the requisite sexy sort, who is photographed in her underwear on a regular basis, because this show knows its audience) and an NSA man who is, let's say, not thrilled with the assignment.

Sure, it sounds silly. It even IS silly. But the show always manages to find the humanity in the spy mission of the week. It has respect for its audience's intelligence. And it is funny.

Let's see--what other show was like that? 

That's right, I'm saying "Chuck" is the logical, far overdue successor to "The Man From U.N.C.L.E.," and I think I can make my case. Where James Bond never really seemed to care about the people whose lives he was saving (unless, of course, he could sleep with them), our heroes Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin always took in an "innocent," a member of the general public who would help with their missions. They protected civilians because they thought it a good idea. They cared. 

They also had a strong sense of humor (which, admittedly, sometimes went too far), and the show became a story of two men who developed a strong friendship while constantly being captured by the enemy and rescuing each other.

"Chuck" has become the story of a family of characters (sometimes literally--Chuck's sister, her fiance (now husband), their father and his friends at the "Buy More" are all fleshed-out characters, although admittedly the guys in the Nerd Herd are a little over-the-top sometimes) who care about each other. And Chuck's relationship with his "handler" Sarah Walker (we don't actually know her real name) has blossomed into that television staple, the unconsummated-because-of-circumstances romance.

"Moonlighting?" A little, but without the snarky winks to the camera and the undercurrent of meanness. More "U.N.C.L.E.," I'd say, with the "innocent" now taking the lead role. It works like a charm.

And now, NBC is deciding whether to kill "Chuck" because of marginal ratings. It's possible the Monday-at-8 time slot isn't helping, up against the inexplicable juggernaut "Dancing With the Stars." But we, the public, have a say. We need to remind the network that cancelled "Star Trek" after three years that some things need time to develop.  And "Chuck" is just getting better.  

Below is a set of guidelines for a "save Chuck" letter" that I've stolen mercilessly from a web site called "chucktv.net" (thank you, Google) about how to make your voice heard. I've done what it says (minus the candy, which I think is just silly), and I urge you to do the same.

Save the child of The Man From U.N.C.L.E.: Send a letter.

• DO be respectful.
• DON’T be threatening. “I’ll never watch NBC again!” doesn’t have any impact.
• DO mention your age, gender and general geographic location. We want to show what a broad fanbase this show has.
• DO tell them whether or not you’re a Nielsen viewer. If you’re not a Nielsen viewer, remind them that your viewership still deserves to be counted.
• DO tell them if you watch/buy Chuck on other platforms (iTunes, Hulu.com, PS3, etc.)
• DO tell them why you want Chuck to stay on the air.
• DON’T complain about a storyline that you aren’t fond of. Keep comments about the show positive.
• DO handwrite your letter if possible. If not, at least sign it by hand.
• DON’T send in a template/form letter. It’s okay to model your letter on someone else’s (we recommend Rachel’s), but make it your own.
• DO send in a box of Nerds candy with your letter, as per Josh Schwartz’s suggestion.
• DO write today!

Where to Send Your Letter:

Ben Silverman
Co-Chairman
3000 W. Alameda
Admin Building
Burbank, CA 91523

Angela Bromstad
President of Primetime Series
100 Universal City Plaza
Bldg 1320, 4th Floor

Universal City, CA 91608 

Print Runs

So last week, I asked what you wanted to know. Maria mentioned print runs, which is a great topic. So, in the interests of transparency, here we go!

When Bleak House decides on a print run, we consider many factors. Here they are, list-form!

1. Author reputation/past sales figures.

    We've been exceptionally fortunate, here at Bleak House, to work with authors who are coming to us from fellow indie presses (Libby Fisher Hellman and Anthony Neil Smith, for instance), as well as authors who are coming to us from larger houses (Victoria Houston and Reed Farrel Coleman spring to mind). The authors already have readers, and very devoted fans. If Bleak House is publishing the next installment in an established series, we have data upon which to look back and base print runs. If we're publishing a new venture for an established author, we can look at their past sales and attempt to divine at least a ballpark number for their print runs.

    In the case of our debut authors, it's a bit trickier. We, of course, hope that each of our debut authors catches fire. (Um, figuratively.) However, we've found it more prudent to print smaller first runs for debut authors -- it gives us positive incentive to sell so we can reprint, rather than punitive drive to sell lest the unsold books be pulped.

2. Preorders.

    Ingram, Baker & Taylor, Barnes & Noble, Borders, and several independent booksellers place preorders for Bleak House titles, once they've seen a catalog. We try to get the catalogs in the buyers' hands well in advance of each season's books going to print. That way, we can adjust print runs up if there's a large demand.

3. Critical reception/coverage.

    We send review copies to the "big four" -- Publishers Weekly, Kirkus, Booklist, and Library Journal -- five months before a book's On Sale Date. In the case of a good review, preorders may be boosted. Or maybe not preorders, but certainly buzz. We can anticipate high library sales based upon a starred review in LJ. If we earn one, we adjust the print run accordingly.

4. Warehousing/Printing costs.

    As with the production of many items, the unit cost of a book goes down as the quantity of books printed goes up. So it would seem to follow, then, that if you want to save money AND sell books, you should print a lot of books up front and then just chug them out the dorr as demand rises.

    But, the warehousing costs money, too. If we print (outlandishly!) a million copies of Title A, the unit cost per book might be one dollar. Well, great! That means that if we sell the book for $20, we'll be making $10 after retail discount, less the single dollar for production costs, less the author royalty ... Still more than five bucks per book, not bad!

    Though the Bleak House model is more one of cautious optimism and thrift. To me, large print runs in order to save on unit cost are kinda like using a coupon to buy hand lotion. Yeah, I saved 50 cents on lotion, but I wouldn't have bought that lotion without the coupon, and so really, I'm down $3.50, not up 50 cents. We don't want to have to warehouse unsold copies of a book just because getting that many copies saved us in printing, in the short term. That costs us in the long term.

5. The ease of reprinting.

    Plus, reprinting is so easy! The printer already has the files at hand, and all that needs to change is a tiny number on the copyright page. Printer turnaround time can be really, really swift for reprints (less than a month! Sometimes swifter!), and so it's not like we'll be sitting on backorders for a long time before fulfilling them. And, with the right combination of prescience and luck, we can begin reprinting just before we run out of stock, and so there won't even be a hiccup in supply.

6. The rainforests! The whales! The cheetahs in the Serengeti!

    Need I delve into this one? I love the environment. I don't want to overuse resources.

Fact: Bleak House's largest first printing was 10,000 copies.
Fact: We learned a hell of a lot, printing that many books. Lots of them are still sitting in a warehouse. Not because it's not a good book, but because at the time of it's publication Ben and I were still learning about marketing, promotion, and sell-through.

Bleak House books are published as hardcover and trade paper, simultaneously. We also produce a limited number (100) hardcover special collector's edition (the Evidence Collection).

It's safe to assume that, for now, a first printing of a Bleak House book will be no less than 1,000 hardcover, 1,000 paperback, and no more than 3,000 hardcover, 7,500 paperback.

Granted, if any of the above listed factors changes significantly (like, say, if we get 10,000 preorders for Delta Blues), our general, assumptive print runs might vary.

But for now, we're running a tight ship. We'd rather have a small first printing and need to go back to press, than a warehouse full of dead trees.

Make sense?

What's so foreign?

Robin Agnew

This week, our book club met and discussed Andrea Camilleri's The Shape of Water.  We pick books via a ballot, and this one had been in a very tight contest with a Sandi Ault book, and in fact the Camilleri squeaked through with one vote.  When we talked about the book, the split was pretty obvious, with the majority of people disliking the book and those who liked it, really liking it.

I think there are many reasons people read, but comfort and familiarity are two big ones.  I think part of the reason series fiction is so popular - especially in an uncertain world - is that you can pick up a new book in a series and catch up in a familiar setting with familiar characters, with only the story being different.

With a book by a foreign author, there are two types.  One type, as an astute reader (and fellow bookseller) pointed out, tells the story from a western perspective.  The perfect example of this kind of writing is one of our perennial bestsellers, Donna Leon.  Though the books are set in Italy, Donna Leon is British, and the stories are told in a familiar. classic detetctive story mode.  They are, in short, pretty accessible to the Western reader.  It's nice that Leon is also such a wonderful writer.

Other books, such as the one we read by Camilleri, are more difficult.  One way to put it is that the reader must hit the ground running, something that's difficult to do, as Sicily seems so very different from the United States.  Now, if you read for comfort and familiarity, you aren't going to enjoy this.  Our employee, Marty,  loves any book that takes him anywhere else - he loves to travel in any way possible.  Camillleri is one of his favorite writers.

I felt jarred by the first chapter, I admit - I was trying to get a grip, but by the time a body was discovered, I felt I was in familiar enough territory to push forward.  And I'm glad I did.  Like the other members of the group who enjoyed the book, I loved the humor and the main character and simply the way Camilleri told a complicated story in a seemingly simple fashion.  He made the difficult look easy, always something to be admired, wherever you find it.

The other bone of contention was in fact the humor, which some book club members felt was too dry.  Since parts of it made me laugh aloud when I was reading this was something I couldn't quite understand (though we'd encounted this with books by Sarah Caudwell and Pamela Branch as well). Next month we're reading Rosemary Harris' Pushing Up Daisies.   I don't foresee any problems, but my book club is always full of surprises.

Planning a Book Tour on the Cheap

This week, I've invited author Beth Groundwater to share her experiences about planning her book tour:

Contrary to popular belief, the vast majority of fiction authors receive no funds from their publisher for conducting book tours. Any traveling most authors do is on our own nickel. Eventually, we learn to stretch those nickels as far as possible, and I thought I'd share with readers of Hey There's a Dead Guy in the Living Room eight tips for planning a book tour on the cheap. Many of these tips can be applied to any kind of trip.

1. Flying: If possible, avoid flying and use cheaper transportation modes. If you must fly, use frequent flyer miles or shop online for the cheapest fare, even if it means changing planes multiple times or driving to another airport close to your home or destination. For instance, leaving from Denver versus my hometown of Colorado Springs can often save me more money than the extra I spend in gas and airport parking.

2. Driving: Try to carpool with another author to share the cost of gas, parking, and tolls. You can do this if you anchor a conference at one end of your tour or invite another author to tour with you.  Also, here's where a AAA membership can come in handy as a source for free maps, guide books, and Trip-Tiks. A travel counselor at my local AAA office who is an avid reader enjoys planning book tours with me after I've collected my dates and addresses for bookstores and nighttime stopovers.

3. Sleeping: Plan your route so you can stay with friends and/or family along the way and avoid paying for rooms. If you do need to pay for a room, try to share the room with another author or, if going to a conference, with another attendee. Look for as cheap a room as possible, compare the price for the same room at multiple websites and by calling the property directly, or use your affinity points if you've got them. Beware of city hotels with parking garages if you're driving, because they often charge exorbitant parking fees. Lastly, I always check that the property provides free Internet service, is located in a safe area of town, and is not located next to railroad tracks.

4. Eating: Take a small cooler so you can carry meals in the car or keep them on ice in your room. Many times I've packed snacks and sandwiches for a car trip or kept yogurt and fruit in a cooler in my room for breakfasts. Even better is to find a property where breakfast is included. Ask bookstore staff before your visit if they have book club that you could meet with for a meal before or after the signing. Also check if there’s a local chapter of a relevant writing group (such as MWA or Sisters in Crime, in my case). Either type of group will enjoy the opportunity to visit with an author, you'll have more attendees at the signing as a result, and the group often will pay for your meal.

5. Drinking: Take your own water bottle to conferences and events and refill it as needed. Drink just water with restaurant meals. Avoid expensive coffee and alcoholic beverages. Even more costly can be a slip of the tongue while inebriated that can cost you fans. Instead, if you're at a conference where the bar is a great place to network, nurse a soda all evening. However, if opportunity comes knocking, go for it. I've never turned down just one free drink!

6. Freebies: Don't go overboard on the giveaways. You should only need business cards and bookmarks or fliers. The expense of pens, buttons, notepads, mini-flashlights and all those other freebies can really add up. If you only make $1 in royalties per book, you shouldn't be spending more than 25-30 cents on a giveaway that you hand out to potential customers.

7. Decorating: Bring along packable eye-catching decorations for your signing table, but don't overdo it or interfere with the decorations and signage the store or conference provides. Suggestions include a small prop related to your book's theme or setting, a brightly colored tablecloth, a sign, and in my case, yellow crime scene tape. I suggest a candy dish on your signing table, but buy the candy in a bulk multi-pound bag at Sam's or Costco.

8. Dressing: Don't buy new clothes for the tour. Most fans are comfortable with an author who is neatly dressed just one notch higher than themselves. For instance, if most of the customers in a bookstore will be wearing jeans, I wear casual slacks and a shirt with a collar. Take clothing that travels well, can be layered, and can be washed on the road, preferably at a friend or relative's house.

Using these guidelines, I planned a two-week trip in 2007 after the release of the first book in my Claire Hanover gift basket designer mystery series, A Real Basket Case. I flew using frequent flyer miles to Virginia for the Malice Domestic conference, rented a small car with unlimited mileage, and stayed with friends in Arlington. Then I drove another author to the Festival of Mystery, and we shared a motel room. After dropping her at the Pittsburgh airport, I drove back to Virginia and stayed with relatives and friends throughout the state while conducting signings. As an extra benefit, many of them enjoyed serving as door greeters at bookstores.

My next two-week book tour on the cheap will be a car trip with my husband this June after the release of To Hell in a Handbasket. We'll drive to Oregon to attend my daughter's college graduation, conduct signings on the way out and back, and stay with relatives in Seattle and Bend. I'm also on the lookout for friends along the way who will trade a dinner out for use of their guest room! To see if I’ll be signing at a location near you, to subscribe to my email newsletter, and for information about my novels, please visit my website: http://bethgroundwater.com/ .

Do you have any other good ideas for book touring on the cheap?