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

Uncomfortable Social Media

Josh Getzler

I realize this is a subject about which many people have written a great deal, but I haven't seen much on it recently, as there seem to be some established conventions. But I've been thinking quite a bit recently about the social conventions of Facebook (mostly) and Twitter (a bit), and in particular about some of the grey areas of virtual friendship.

I know that much of the image I project in my Facebook is pretty consistent. I share my clients' news; am clearly a fan of the Liberty, Knicks and Rangers; play the drums and like prog rock and The Revivalists (not just because my cousin Zack plays guitar for them...); and frequent the a Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary. I'm married, and once in a while a photo of my kids shows up, but not often.

Then it gets tricky. I know I discussed civility before the election, and the fact that while I may have strong and passionate feelings about political and social issues, I try to leave them off my social media much of the time. Part of this is because I use social media for business and don't want to alienate current and possible future associates. I know I have friends and associates who have very different views from my own, and would rather be more circumspect than controversial. This is my decision, and obviously it's different from many other folks' way of thinking. And it doesn't take much, just by seeing whom I've chosen to follow or share, or some of the decisions I've made as to whom I've Liked myself, where I stand on most issues. I'm just not terribly vocal (with a few pretty clear exceptions).

So that leads me to the quandary I've been in recently. Ok, so while I want my own feed to be apolitical, others of my friends--on both sides of the aisle--have chosen to make their feeds bully pulpits. Most of the time I just let it go, but recently I've been seeing some pretty hateful stuff creeping in. My instinct is to unfriend, but I find that hard to do--some of the folks are professional friends, some are longtime real-life friends, some even relatives (and I'm not going to be more specific on this--I'm still not trying to alienate folks!). Some have great material mixed in with the stuff I find distasteful. Some would know if i unfriended them and would be incredibly offended--and i'd care about that. Tough stuff. How do other folks deal with this?

Ultimately, this is a new, interesting offshoot of the incredible, endlessly interesting world we're now inhabiting. Social mores have both broken down and become even more rigid. I think of the rules in Jane Austen or Anne Perry's early Pitt novels, or of Downton Abbey and other stories of manners and etiquette. How would Mr. Darcy deal with Elizabeth's Facebook feed?

In the meantime, I'll keep posting about pub dates and the WNBA. Happily.

Speak Out Before It's Too Late

Marilyn Thiele

If ever there was a week when I might seriously question what I’m doing with my life, this was it. It should have been a great week. Spring finally arrived: the doors to the store could be left open, shoppers were out, business was good, and people were smiling and stopping to chat in town. Yet it seemed that every time I picked up something to read or browsed on the computer, there was doom and gloom.  I don’t mean the normal news, always depressing enough. This week, in addition, I was bombarded with reports about the death of the book.

It started on Sunday. The back page of the New York Times Book Review had a full page ad sponsored by James Patterson with the headline: “Who will save our books? Our bookstores? Our libraries?” On Tuesday, Publishers Weekly arrived with the same ad, spread out over the front and back covers, inside and out, the four prime advertising locations, lamenting the demise of the printed tome. On Wednesday at a doctor’s office, I picked up the current issue of Reader’s Digest. There was another full page, not an ad but a brief article headed “Digital Trend: Bookless Libraries” and displayed as if on a screen with the logo “kindle” at the bottom. Even Facebook was at it; I got a post from Book Connections linking to an article in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel “Loss of printed books means reading won’t be the same.”  I decided to take a break and clean up some of the piles on my desk. Among the items set aside because I thought I might do something (what?) with them at some time was a page from the Times Book Review of November 25, 2012, with two brief articles, one about John Grisham’s concern about the future of his favorite independent bookstore and others like it, and one about Larry McMurtry, hero of used book dealers, having auctioned off two-thirds of his inventory because he feels the book culture is “fading.”

Wow! Maybe the gods are trying to tell me something. Should I get out while the getting is good and someone might actually buy my inventory? Should I turn my shop into a museum so that children can come and see how reading was done in the “olden days”? Must I accept the reality that the one pleasure that has been consistent throughout my life, while other hobbies and interests have come and gone, will soon no longer exist? My answers: No, No, and NO.

There’s no denying that sales of printed books are down and those of electronic books are up. The question is whether this trend will continue until the paper book is no longer produced, and Jeff Bezos’s dream comes true (yes, he has said this!). A look behind the scary headlines tells a different story. The “Bookless Libraries” article points to a recent Wall Street Journal article indicating that e-book purchases skew heavily toward the “light entertainment” novels you can pick up easily in grocery stores, drug stores or discount department stores. It mentions a Pew Research Center survey showing that 90 percent of digital readers also read physical books. It also talks about “bookless libraries” that folded because the patrons wanted physical books. But if you only read the words “Digital Trends: Bookless Libraries” as you scanned the magazine, you would think that the end is near.

My real fear is that these scary headlines and the propaganda of those who want the reading world to be all digital will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Those who love the printed word on paper will acquiesce to what appears to be inevitable, feeling that there is nothing that can be done to stop the march of technology. Is there anything to be done? Not to stop the advance of technology. But one can  embrace the new without trashing the old. It’s not an “either/or” choice, as the attention-grabbing headlines would have us believe. We don’t have to revert to a print-only world to save the book. Instead, we need to increase awareness of what a world without the paper book would be like.

I applaud James Patterson for spending what must have been a great deal of money to voice his concern so prominently. In his ad, he implies that there should be government intervention at some level to save books, in the way the banks and auto industry were saved. I question the wisdom of this approach, and, politics aside, the efficacy of it. The loss of books, bookshops and libraries will not bring down the American economy, at least not in the short term. It will bring down the level of literacy and the marketplace of ideas, which may be more disastrous in the longer term. How will this happen if the written word is still available, only in a different format? An easy comparison is the music industry. This week I also saw a news report on how iTunes killed the album; buying only a single song for 99 cents allows one to pay for only what one (thinks) one wants, instead of many songs that are not “the best” (as decided by popularity or critics). Who hasn’t had the experience of buying an album for one song, and finding an unexpected treasure elsewhere on the same recording? Compare that to buying the latest bestseller for your e-reader, versus visiting a book shop or library and finding unexpected treasure as you browse the shelves or get a recommendation from the bookseller or librarian.

Patterson ends his Publishers Weekly ad with: “Spread the word about our endangered books! Peel off this wraparound cover and share it with a friend or post it at your local bookstore or library.” All good as far as it goes. There is probably not a bookseller or librarian who is not concerned about the loss of the printed book and who hasn’t spent a great deal of time educating her patrons on the issue and the loss to the reading world that seems imminent. A few months ago, two dear ladies who meet in town regularly for lunch came in to my shop. They announced (nicely) that they did their reading on their K*****s, and that they were just browsing. They wanted to chat, and seemed receptive, so I explained that there might soon be no stores like mine to browse in, that I, too, enjoyed my electronic reader (deliberately using the generic term), but that if no books were purchased in paper format, there would be no stores and no books. This concept was a revelation to them. Could their behavior, buying both their paper and digital books from A*****, cause them to lose the opportunity to delight in a cozy little book shop? The end result: they each bought a book, and come back whenever they lunch in town to buy one or two each. They were in my shop this week, a happy contradiction to all the gloom I read in the media. They understand that their support is important to keeping book stores viable.

I am sure that this type of encounter occurs regularly in every book store in the country. It is an educational effort that takes time, and still reaches only a few people who are receptive. Posting Patterson’s ad would not do much more. The placement of the ad in The Book Review and Publishers Weekly is preaching to the choir. (If it appeared elsewhere, I am not aware of it; if anyone knows, please let me know.) He asks at one point “Why are there no impassioned editorials in influential newspapers or magazines?” Here he finally gets to what really needs to be done, a larger effort to contradict the negative, attention-grabbing headlines that don’t tell the whole story and which are speeding the demise of the book by suggesting that it is inevitable. His ads would be better placed in mainstream magazines or even on-line media where they would be seen by a broader group of readers, those like my ladies that lunch. Those of us who are already making an effort at bucking the trend could do more. Authors are extremely supportive of independent bookstores. Perhaps they can do more in interviews and articles to point out what the loss of books, bookstores and libraries would mean to everyone, not just the publishing world. Those readers who are already aware of the problem could write “letters to the editor” or bring attention to the issue through social media. (When this information is broadcast by booksellers, it sounds a bit like sour grapes or self-promotion; the readers who don’t want to lose their books and bookstores need to speak up.)

I have just two more anecdotes from my week. 8-year-old Nick, the son of another business owner in town, came in for his typical hour-long browse. He knows what he likes, but loves to spend time looking at what seems like every book in the store, not just the children’s section. This week, he wanted something about “all kinds of animals” and selected a field guide to the northeast U. S. I wish every customer would handle the books with such reverence and replace them so carefully! Later the same day, a 5-year-old came in with his Dad, selected two early readers, and stretched his hand up as high as it would go to hand me his money. Such intensity as he watched me count his change back to him. Such gravity as he said, yes, he would like a bag. Such a smile as he held his very own books. Let’s save the books so these boys can have them to love for the rest of their lives.

Short Takes: Kindle Paperwhite; Hey, There's a Dead Guy on Facebook; and a word or two on Boston

Josh Getzler

Kindle Paperwhite: A Quick Review.

Saturday was my wife Amanda’s birthday, and one of her presents (along with a Vitamix blender she’s apparently leaving me for) was a new Kindle Paperwhite. No frills, just Wifi. She spent a great deal of time playing with it over the weekend, and even let me take the wheel for a few minutes here and there. Verdict: A terrific e-reader, both in the dark and in the light. MUCH easier to read in bed than, say, an iPad, and lighter than any other reader I’ve used.

One unexpected element that was a pro rather than a con: The ads. Somehow having an ad for the Kindle Deal of the Day was no more obtrusive than having Emily Dickinson or James Joyce on it. If it keeps the price down—and could conceivably entice readers to new books (Amanda made her way to the Daily Deal page both weekend days), then both personally and professionally I am for it.

Then this morning we had breakfast with Amanda’s sister, who thought a corollary to the Daily Deal Ad (for higher-end models, perhaps) could be to use the cover of the book a reader is currently reading as the screen saver. Would sure save myself from craning my neck on the subway to see what folks are reading!

 

Hey, There's a Dead Guy on Facebook.

So over the weekend, Hey, There’s A Dead Guy in the Living Room established a Facebook page. It’s here: https://www.facebook.com/HeyDeadGuy. It’s nice, and we’ll be sharing our posts on it. It’s going to be interesting for me to see whether it becomes more than that. Initially, my reaction to the page was “eh, that’s nice. Why do we need a page for a blog? Isn’t that redundant?” The answer, to me, is I don’t Know. It might just turn out to be a way for folks on Facebook to scroll through our archives. It would be more interesting, of course, if it turned out that the page turned into a little community of folks who like to read and/or write, with discussions transcending the particular day’s post. Now, does that make the Comments section on the blog unnecessary? Possibly. But we won’t know till we try, and I’ll be interested in seeing the results.

 

A word or two on Boston.

I grew up in Manhattan directly across Central Park West from the finish line of the New York City Marathon. During the past 40-odd years, I’ve seen it grow from a small but energetic race to an enormous undertaking. It’s one of the best days of the year in New York, just as Patriot’s Day is in Boston. I hope, after the suffering and damage, that the evil person or people who set the bombs in Boston doesn’t cause cancellations of these and other such mass public gatherings. Then he or they will have won. Sadly, we’ve all seen too many acts of terror these last years. I always hope that This One will be the last. It probably won’t be. But if you want to put your mind into a better place about Humanity and people’s better instincts, read actor Patton Oswalt’s blog post, which is simply beautiful.

http://www.upworthy.com/patton-oswalts-much-needed-love-letter-to-boston-and-the-rest-of-humanity?g=2

Market Pressures and Chaos

Josh Getzler

So last week I had the single biggest blog post of the two years of writing on Hey, There’s A Dead Guy—and it was all because my son wrote the post for me. And it was the best feeling I’ve had in years. Thanks to everyone who commented and Liked and retweeted. We’ve managed to keep Joe’s head on his shoulders…but just barely.

I’ve seen some very interesting developments in the publishing industry as far as distribution goes.  On the unfortunate side, we’ve seen the conflict between Simon and Schuster and Barnes and Noble go public, with the reports that B&N is (depending on how you look at it) either making a point about the value of shelf space with one of its biggest clients, or cutting off its nose to spite its face. B&N is cutting its orders of S&S books because S&S is unwilling to participate in certain pieces of its co-op programs. S&S, and its writers in particular, are reacting with justifiable alarm, as they are feeling (again justifiably) like pawns in a battle they did not start.

On the upside, I’ve now had three experiences with the power of online reach. Two of the books I represent made big moves in the last month. One was a Kindle Deal of the Day; the other was a screen saver on the Kindles with ads. A third made a splash based on the authors’ combined 250,000 Twitter followers and enormous general online following.  The pushes came from different places, but now were based on physical bookshelf placement. Rather, by rising on the Amazon digital charts, these books appeared on more landing pages on their retail outlets—if you went to Historical Fiction, Historical Romance, Historical Mystery, General Fiction, and top new sellers and hot sellers (in all those areas), you’d find The Fifth Knight. It’s opportunity after opportunity to click through and purchase, and it dominos in on itself like a digital self-fulfilling prophecy. Fascinating stuff.

The juxtaposition of these two examples could lead you to think that I’m simply telling another version of the Print Is Dead story. And that’s not the case. It’s actually cautionary. I think that it’s terribly vital for the parties to resolve their issues. I’ve talked to editors and authors and other agents like a broken record about the fact that the publishing industry is out of whack, far away from equilibrium. This is not a zero sum game. There can be multiple winners. But staying out of equilibrium, whether in royalty rates for e-books, co-op dollars spent in different markets, or not having any kind of industry standard for what constitutes a recoverable expense for an author to need to return to a publisher (and there should be very few of these, by the way, but that’s a different column), will only create a negative spiral. Markets hate chaos and uncertainty—it’s bad for business. And our market is, at this point—despite terrific books being written and an explosion in distribution opportunities—both uncertain and chaotic.

Goin' Back to Cali

Josh Getzler

The day after she returned from winter break, my assistant Maddie asked if she could meet me for coffee the next morning. There she told me that, having gone home to visit her family over the break, she had decided to leave New York, leave agenting, leave this model of the publishing industry (at least for now, and at least most likely), and go back to California.

All of this was understandable, if disappointing. She has many pulls to go back West, and she’d clearly thought it through carefully. But there was a professional reason as well, which says a lot about this industry even if changing it would require blowing up a model that has existed for decades.

Let me back up a second. One of the disappointments to me for Maddie’s departure is that in fact she had been doing so well—and not just in her assistant role, at which she excelled. She had made a large group of friends and contacts within the industry—she’d networked within her “class” of junior agents and younger editors, and had been an active and competent presence with the editors I worked with on my own books. When she came to me after a somewhat shorter than usual time and said that she had been working on a novel and asked if she could represent it, I felt she would be able to do the job. She did, and had an auction on her first submission: Mary McCoy’s wonderful and chilling historical YA noir Dead To Me. She seemed to be very much on her way to proceeding—pretty quickly—toward success as a literary agent.

That’s why her professional rationale for leaving publishing made me really sit up and take notice. She is leaving, she said, because traditional book publishing the way it is set up is simply too slow-moving. She’s young and capable, and she took a look and saw that it would take years for her to see the fruits of this labor, both in terms of the satisfaction of building a list and seeing the books come out, and building up her commissions to the point where she’d be able to make a good living.

I think the turning point here was when, after a  taking on Mary’s book and selling it quite nicely at auction, she found out that Dead To Me was scheduled to be published in September or October of 2014. So it would be a year and 10 months from Deal to Shelf. That’s a hell of a long time. But because of the timing of the deal (and all the publishers time their cutoffs slightly differently), Hyperion had closed its spring and summer 2014 seasons and the first slot they had was in the fall. Perhaps they’d been buying YA more aggressively and were crowded; perhaps there were competitive titles. Whatever, it was going to be almost two years before Maddie and Mary were going to see their book out in stores.

This isn’t particularly strange, either. I’ve had three novels in the past two years be purchased and come our more than a year and a half after the deal was done. There wasn’t much editorial work or any complications. Just scheduling.

So that was a particular frustration, and it feels counter-intuitive when writers are independently publishing their books very quickly, and some e-original or e-first publishers are able to get books out with a very short lead. An example would be Elaine Powell’s historical thriller The Fifth Knight, which Thomas and Mercer published in serial form. We made that deal in September, and the first piece of the serial came out at the end of November. I received a finished book last week, and start-to-finish it was four months.

 The problem there is that The Fifth Knight received no traditional reviews (Publisher Weekly, Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, etc), and couldn’t be publicized in the traditional ways.

So Maddie’s conundrum, which I think translates to just about anyone involved in the greater publishing world, is that while there are ways to be very quick, to be very efficient in the physical production of books (particularly digital), the traditional seasonal timing of publishers’ lists creates a frustrating backlog between deal and publication. The tradeoffs are clear, and at this point (at least while there are still enough brick-and-mortar bookstores to matter) unsatisfying.

Now, is it unreasonable to want both efficiency in timing of publication and payment and effective marketing strategies that remotely resemble the traditional journalism-based review-driven campaigns? Perhaps. But I think it’s going to drive a continued wedge between traditional and independent publishing until we do, and will create a somewhat divided, inefficient industry. And it will drive more and more smart young professionals like Maddie out of the industry, to businesses with greater flexibility and speed.

So Godspeed Maddie—we will miss you. You will succeed and flourish. Thank you for everything.

 

An Overdose of Stupid

Jeff Cohen

In the past couple of weeks, we have been overtaken by some of the stupidest scandals ever to grace the pages of newspapers and the airwaves. And believe me, I'm a veteran of the Jim-and-Tammy-Baker era. I was there for Britney Spears and her shaved head. I even remember the "we're more popular than Jesus" rumpus that John Lennon set off while trying to make a point about how odd Beatlemania had become.

And while the latest crop of nonsense isn't by itself weirder than any of those nutty things or goofy side issues from the past (Were there pop culture scandals in George Washington's time? Was there speculation that the composer of "Yankee Doodle" was just hoping to get a cupcake named after his song?), the sheer number of them, coming one after the other, was enough to get one to sit up and take notice.

First Lance Armstrong spent hours talking to Oprah Winfrey about how he--gasp!--used to use performance-enhancing drugs to help him do stuff that no man riding a bike without them could possibly have done. This was a shocker equal in proportion to the disclosure that Liberace was gay. Really?

Lance's "confession" (apparently Oprah has taken on some sort of religious role) came on the heels of a similar brouhaha involving everyone who played major league baseball in the 1980s and 1990s. Earlier this month, the Baseball Writers Association of America (how come crime fiction writers aren't unionized?), who for reasons no one understands have been given the responsibility to populate the game's Hall of Fame, chose not to add to the population this year because some of the players eligible had--gasp!--used performance-enhancing drugs to do things that no other players in history had ever done. Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens were juicing? Next you'll be telling me that Paul McCartney dyes his hair.

But the nuttiness was just starting in the world of sports. Next, Manti Te'o, who apparently played college football for Notre Dame--I'm a one-sport idiot, and don't care about such things--had gained some notoriety and sympathy when, on September 12, his girlfriend was reported to have died of leukemia. Then it turned out she hadn't died. Then it turned out she wasn't his girlfriend, mostly because she wasn't a real person. And the story just got odder from there. Te'o knew she wasn't dead, then he knew his girlfriend--whom he'd never met, which is sort of an interesting scenario all by itslef--wasn't a girlfriend, that she was fictional, that there was some guy with an unspellable name pretending to be the fake girlfriend on the phone... my head hurts just thinking about it, and I'm sure I'm a number of steps behind, because to be honest, I'm really not following this one too closely.

The complete lunacy culminated at, of all events, the inauguration for a second term of President Barack Obama, when it was rumored after the festivities that Beyonce, who at one time had a last name, had purportedly lip-synched her performance of the national anthem. 

There are people who actually care whether Beyonce was singing live (she was singing live; the question is whether what she was singing is what we heard over the television), some of whom are honestly trying to make political points based on her singing.

I've been hearing Kate Smith sing God Bless America at Yankee Stadium for 11 years, and I'm pretty sure she was prerecorded, and never even bothered to lip sync, because she was busy being dead. Robert Merrill has been belting out The Star-Spangled Banner for decades since he died. John Lennon asks me what I've done at Christmas time every December. Concert performers from Madonna to Britney Spears (hair or no hair) have been known to pre-record parts of their shows and then pretend they're singing while the audience watches.

Yes, the question, "Don't we have bigger things with which to concern ourselves" leaps to mind, but hey, I'm only reporting the stupid. I don't make it up.

You're wondering what this has to do with crime fiction publishing. Well, let me explain: my CLOSE PERSONAL FRIEND E.J. Copperman has a book coming out two weeks from tomorrow. It's called CHANCE OF A GHOST. And I've been trying to think of ways to promote the release, um, because E.J. is such a good friend and I like to help out.

So I'm thinking a good scandal might do it--but it has to be a creative, loopy one like the ones listed above. I can't say I've been using performance-enhancing drugs to write books, unless Caffeine-Free Diet Coke is akin to a parabolic steroid. People have actually seen me with my wife, whom I can state unequivocally is a real person, so that one's out. I could lip sync a bookstore reading, I suppose, but I don't see what the big deal is with that one, frankly.

What I'm saying is that I need a good scandal to push the book. Any ideas? (Actually doing bodily harm to anyone--including or especially myself--is out of the question.) Something that's going to get lots of attention and get my name out there into the media.

Not that any of the people discussed above would do that, of course...

 

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 14 days.

Record-Breaking Sherlock Holmes sale!

Jessy Randall

According to the Winter 2013 issue of Fine Books & Collections, a copy of the first edition, first issue of Arthur Conan Doyle's A Study in Scarlet, the first published Sherlock Holmes story, sold for over $50,000 in October of 2012, which is more than double any previous sale price for the title.

A Study in Scarlet originally appeared in the 1887 Beeton's Christmas Annual, copies of which have sold for as much as $130,000 at auction.

(Oddly, the numbers in the article linked to the images don't match up with the numbers in FB&C, but they are all very large numbers.)

Another huge price for a Sherlock Holmes item in 2012: the manuscript of "Mr. Sherlock Holmes to His Friends" went for $80,500 in September.

My Ebook and The APA's Stupidity

Jeff Cohen

I am beside myself with anger.

The changes that I described here have been enacted by the American Psychiatric Association and the words "Asperger's Syndrome" will not appear in the upcoming DSM-V. It's an outrage. I'll say no more. Read the previous post.

Instead, let's examine one of the most vicious recent traditions in the holiday season. That's right, it's time for the Monday DEAD GUY holiday letter, personalized specifically for you by being as general as possible. Shall we begin?

Dear (Insert Name):

Well, 2012 has just about reached its end, and my goodness, the time seems to fly past a little faster with each passing year. Here I just got used to writing "2012" on the four checks I actually sent someone this year (isn't online banking wonderful?), and it's practically time to handicap the Oscars.

This year has been a very busy one for us. This is a subtle yet unmistakable hint that the person sending the letter has been doing way better than you have, a theme which will recur frequently throughout. See if you can spot all the insults! The books have been rolling out regularly and seem to be meeting lots of new people every day!

Obviously, Old Haunts was our adorable little debut in February, joining older siblings Night of the Living Deed and An Uninvited Ghost in the Haunted Guesthouse family. The next installment, Chance of a Ghost, is expected February 5, and we're all incredibly excited to see the new addition to our clan!

But before then, we get a visit from a very close relative: A Wild Ghost Chase, the first-ever Haunted Guesthouse eSpecial from Berkley, will be here at the end of this month (and the end of this year--December 31, or a week from today, depending on how you set your watch)! Exclamation points are overused in holiday letters to drive home the excitment the sender has in his/her life each and every minute, and you don't. 

That little rascal, A Wild Ghost Chase, is a novella, sold only as an ebook (and only $2.99), and is told from the perspective of the best dead detective in Harbor Haven, New Jersey, Paul Harrison. When Paul and his ghostly companion Maxie find a nine-year-old ghost of Native American heritage living in the haunted guesthouse, he makes a rash promise to help find the boy's mother. They've both been dead over 200 years, so that's not going to be easy.

(Just as an aside to Haunted Guesthouse fans, A Wild Ghost Chase will also include a sneak preview of Chance of a Ghost, to whet your appetite for February 5!)

Meanwhile, the year saw the Aaron Tucker series recorded as audiobooks, and they are now available on Audible as well as from Books In Motion! It's so sweet when the little ones start talking, don't you think? And then you can't ever get them to stop!

Meanwhile, Chance of a Ghost, because we're so looking forward to February 5, is certainly on our minds. It deals with the suspicious (to him) death of a very over-the-top amateur actor, Lawrence Laurentz, who comes to Alison Kerby's mother Loretta begging for a chance to find out about the circumstances of his demise. The medical examiner says Lawrence died of heart issues, but Lawrence insists he was murdered--with an electric toaster thrown into his bath.

Alison doesn't want to take the case, but Lawrence says he can offer a special fee--he can connect her with her deceased father, whom Loretta says is "missing."

But we don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves. After all, we need something to write about in next year's holiday letter!

Love, peace and a happy new year to all!

 

Boring conclusion to the Indiana Jones package mystery

Last week I got all excited about an Indiana Jones mystery at the University of Chicago, but it turns out it was just an Ebay mixup.

Darn.

Jessy Randall

 

 

Hey! There’s An Interjection in my Subject Line

Josh Getzler

My wife Amanda is a high school history teacher, as I may have mentioned a time or two on this blog. Each year, her ninth and tenth grade students are assigned a research project, which takes them the better part of the school year to put together because it is a complex, multi-step process that Amanda and her colleagues use to teach their teenagers how to write a rigorous, research-oriented term paper in general. There are outlines, many-labelled index cards, draft after draft, and then finally a paper about, say, whether the princes in the tower were really killed by Richard III.

It’s a terrific, if painstaking exercise, and by the end those kids—if they pay attention—really know how to write a paper.

This week, one of the interim assignments was due, and for the first time Amanda asked her students to email her the finished documents, and she would return them with corrections in Track Changes. The submissions came flooding in on Saturday night and Sunday, and as I watched her open the emails, I was struck by how many of them started “Hey!” and “heres my work” and “i couldnt finish.”

This is not to slag on these students in particular. I could just as easily have been looking at my own inbox or, really, most people’s. It’s ironic, isn’t it? After decades of being a verbal society upon the innovation and dominance of the phone, we are once again a text-based world. Between emails, chats and text messages (as well as blog commentaries, tweets et al), we spend a huge amount of time typing. Now this isn’t a tut-tutting over new spelling and emoticons ruining our lives (although I’d love to tut-tut about the loss of capitalization and apostrophes…but not now.). Rather, it’s about the way to start a letter, and when it is appropriate to be formal. It’s about context.

Ultimately, what I see is an assumption that because a document is instantly delivered and digital, it somehow isn’t formal. Sometimes that’s correct, particularly when per-character charges are incurred—no need to say “Dear Josh” on a text message. (And that’s true even if you have an unlimited plan—at this point the texting rules are pretty clear.)

However, in emails, context really does matter. If I’m having a long email chat with my assistant (which I often do even though we sit at desks facing each other for eight hours a day), there’s no need to say “Dear Maddie” each time (or really at all). But I almost never begin an email to an editor, or start a chain of emails with a client, without “Hi Jason” or “Dear Sally.” It’s simply not professional. It’s not polite.

I also rarely use as my subject line “Hey” or “hi.” For one thing, again, I tend to find it more informal than really appropriate, and I like to give the person receiving the email the opportunity to prepare him or herself for the content—hence, subject. Also, given that I get and send a couple of hundred emails a day, it would make it almost impossible to organize and file my emails with any kind of hope of retrieving one efficiently if they all said “hi” in their subject.

So given all this bemoaning (and I’m really sorry if I sound like the old fart my kids claim I am), it makes sense that I was shaking my head at Amanda’s students’ email subjects. And it doesn’t matter that many of them had written pretty terrific papers or drafts or notecards (although one had in fact said “so u see…” in the actual text). It’s just not polite to address your teacher as “Hey.”

Unless you’re the Fonz, I suppose, but then it would be “Heeeeeyyyyy.”

 

How Do You Do It?

Jeff Cohen

With an ebook on its way in two weeks, normally I'd be promoting with a vengeance in this space. I will not do that today. Expect it next week.

A crime fiction writer is, in case you hadn't noticed, a weird animal. We spend our time thinking up odd ways to kill people, justifying them with motives that sometimes border on the bizarre, and call it "entertainment." We concoct puzzles in the shape of killings, and those of us who do so with a veneer of humor often see our word referred to as, among other things, "a romp."

A romp.

Most of the time, we are concerned with the mechanics of plot. We create characters, yes, but after they are established and their voices are well embedded in our heads, we can stop worrying about getting them exactly right, because they'll tell us what is and is not in their bag of tricks. We think about dialogue, but only when it's not going well,because when it is going well, it's a conversation taking place that we simply transcribe. It's plot we concern ourselves with most of the time. How did the crime take place, who perpetrated it, what made it so difficult to solve? And most of all, why?

Then comes a day like last Friday.

An unimaginable crime like the one that blackened that day is beyond description; it is a horror and an atrocity and an act so terrible it can physically hurt to think about it. We may never know exactly what happened, although even the most cursory of accounts would be unbearable. We might be satisfied that we know who brought this awful thing to our world once the evidence is clear. We might understand the mechanics of the plan and its execution. But we're not ever going to know why. There is no why. Nothing can explain this.

And if you think that it's too soon to be talking about something that can control the easy access to firearms in this country, you have missed the point entirely. It is not too soon. It is, tragically, much too late.

Often, when crime fiction writers hear of some real life act, there might be a moment--and we're not proud of it--that we'll wonder if there's something there we might eventually be able to us in a story. There's a reason we got into this business to begin with, after all. And a professional interest can take odd forms.

Not this time. 

How do you do it--how do you go on after something like this hideous moment, and go back to writing about crime in a lighthearted fashion? How can one absorb something this unconscionable and then return to plotting murders as a form of amusement? 

People have often asked me how a writer makes murder funny, and I always answer that, at least, I don't ever try to do that. I think murder is the worst thing a person can do, and I don't think ending a life is ever funny. It's the reaction of the survivors, I'll say, that can be seen as comedic.

I think it's going to take some time to get back to that place in my own head. How will I do it? Right now, I don't know, but I'm sure I will. 

It's not going to be easy. I'll tell you that.

Indiana Jones mystery at the University of Chicago!

In December of 2012, the University of Chicago received a mysterious package addressed to -- well -- to Indiana Jones, it turns out. As of this writing, nobody has taken credit for it. The university seems to think it's an unusual (and brilliant?!) attempt at catching the attention of the Admissions Office. I'm wondering, could it be some sort of book-promotion shenanigan? If so, well, WOW.

Or, it turns out, it might be something quite dull, like an EBay mixup.

Shoot.

Indy, the torches are going out.

 UPDATE: NO, IT'S NOT THE EBAY THING! Still a mystery, then.

Jessy Randall

Movin’ On Up

Josh Getzler

Thursday morning, three gentlemen showed up in Soho with a large truck and strong backs. They lugged 30 boxes of books and yellow stickies and whiteboards filled with submissions lists out the door of 287 Spring Street, and three hours later Hannigan Salky Getzler Agency was unpacking our new office on the Upper West Side (right upstairs from where the late H&H Bagels used to be—now it’s a Verizon store).

I’m writing about this not because it’s a major moment in the history of publishing, but because it illustrates a reality in the business world: work-life fit matters. We moved because three of the four of us live on the Upper West Side. One of us is having a baby in a little more than a month, and having an office near home will allow her to come by to say hello (and keep at least slightly current) during her maternity leave. I live a block and a half away from the new space (a fact I apparently mention to my becoming-more-annoyed wife several times a day, most often while doing a very 44 year-old version of the Gangnam dance…).

But I’m not happy about the move because it will allow me to sleep late and give up my monthly Metrocard. Rather, it’s because all of a sudden my kids have enormous amounts of homework. My son’s in a new school, and it’s serious. He’s reasonably philosophical about it, but walks around shellshocked at the fact that at 10 PM he’s only half done. My girls, one in middle school and the other in fourth grade, are in a double curriculum, and more often than not have to read primers in Hebrew after their math.

The point is, the half-hour I am saving by walking the two blocks home rather than taking the E to the D to the C could be the difference between a reasonable amount of sleep for the kids and exhaustion and incredible irritability—times five, if you count Amanda and me. The fact that I’ll also be able to go to the gym more often is an added bonus, and one that will surely add to my overall well-being and happiness.

As always in these situations, I’m indebted to my client Cali Williams Yost, who’s spent the last 17 years advising people how to give their professional and personal lives this kind of synergy. She’s written one book on the topic, and is coming out with a second, Tweak It, this winter from Center Street. This is not merely a plug for Cali, who has an enormous platform and does a far better job explaining herself than I can. But I will say that my conversations with her, about strategies designed to figure out where my priorities lie—and that personal and professional goals overlap more than my self-compartmentalizing brain ever considered before—certainly were factors in considering this change.

This morning I dropped my son off at the Columbus Avenue bus, then walked for three minutes, past a Starbucks and Zabar’s, and up to the former artist’s studio HSG is now sharing with a small film production company. I opened my email. It was 7:35 AM. The day could begin.

There's This Storm, See...

Jeff Cohen

Usually, finishing a first draft is cause for celebration: Weeks/months of hard work have paid off, and even though there's still plenty of revision to do before sending in the manuscript (soon, Shannon, I promise!), there's a sense of accomplishment, of completing something that began as the germ of an idea and grew to over 80,000 words of text.

Not so much celebration this time.

The Haunted Guesthouse series, which as everyone (sort of everyone) knows is written by E.J. Copperman, takes place on the Jersey Shore. The fictional--and I'm thanking myself for making it fictional now especially--town of Harbor Haven is placed somewhere on the coastline, but Copperman has never been particularly clear about its actual geographical location. What we know for sure is that it is a quiet little beach town that doesn't have its own amusement pier but does make a good deal of its living off the tourist trade.

And then a week and a half before I finished that draft (and literally three days before the original deadline for the manuscript), the New Jersey coast and much of the Eastern Seaboard met a girl named Sandy, and the world went crazy.

Most of us have our power back on now. The downed tree limbs (and whole trees) are largely off the streets. The library may open tomorrow or Wednesday. I'll have someone come up this week to see about the roof shingles we lost to the wind. Schools start a regular schedule again today. Supermarkets just recently started getting perishables back on the shelves. Gasoline is still rationed by the date and the last number on one's licence plate.

And I live 30-40 miles inland from where Harbor Haven might be.

Down the shore, which is how we natives refer to our beach towns, has been devastated in ways that will literally take years to assess. As I said last week, whole houses were taken off their foundations and left in the middle of one of the larger highways in Ocean and Monmouth Counties. Many of those streets and larger roads are literally overrun with sand. We have friends whose brand new co-op apartment was luckily spared the flooding because it was on the second floor, but the first floor was submerged.

Many of the attractions on the amusement piers in Seaside Heights and Wildwood Crest, among other places, simply aren't there anymore.

So now, I have to go back over the 80,000 words I just finished typing (88,000 if you want to be technical, but I have a lot to cut) and figure out--a year in advance--what it'll be like down the shore when the new book comes out late in 2013 or early in 2014. 

It would be weird to set a book on the shore and not mention Sandy's appalling damage; that would be the equivalent of writing a book that takes place in New Orleans in 2006 and never mentioning the name "Katrina." People will still be reeling from the effects of that awful storm, and quite frankly if there are future installments in the series, I think it will be hard to ignore Sandy for many books to come. 

But at this point, I don't even know whether people will refer to it as "Sandy," or as I tend to think, "the storm." I have no idea what will or won't be salvageable in Belmar or Long Branch or Manasquan or Lavalette or Avon-by-the-Sea or a dozen other communities that would be near Harbor Haven. I don't know if (after the really unnecessary snow storm we had a week after Sandy) there will be other storms that make the situation--and this is hard to imagine--worse.

It would be unlikely that Alison Kerby's guesthouse, so near the beach, would have been completely unscathed by that enormous storm. But I already have a huge plot in place; there are characters and story points and travels she must make in the area to solve the mysteries in the book. I can't have the damage to 123 Seafront Avenue be too severe, or it'll overshadow all that other stuff. 

The past couple of weeks in New Jersey and elsewhere on the East Coast have been--and there is no other word for it--devastating. And many, many people have it far, far worse than I do. I am not at all complaining. 

But should Alison?

I'm not asking for suggestions or advice; I believe it's the writer's job to imagine effectively and realistically and to turn that imagination into a believable story. So I'll handle this problem in turn. But it is nothing like anything I've ever had to do before.

Of course, rebuilding an entire coastline is something we here in New Jersey have never had to do before. We'll be up to the task.

Civics and Civility

Josh Getzler

Usually I write these posts on my couch after supper on Tuesdays, when the kids have finished their homework and my wife Amanda and I have had supper. There’s a rhythm to it, and the slight adrenaline rush of being on deadline before Tuesday turns to Wednesday and I’ve let my fellow Dead Guys down.

This evening, like so many other people around the country and world, I’ll be in front of the TV watching election returns, nervous about the future and relieved that this endless cycle of primaries, analyses, ads and debates is finally at an end.

I’m a political junkie, and one of my great pastimes is providing color commentary with Amanda as we see the process unfold. I’m passionate in my opinions and believe that the candidate I support is strong and will lead the country in the right direction. I want him to win, and I want him to succeed. But this campaign has felt like the culmination of the last 20 or so years’ worth of descent into deepest incivility; of wedges and Pledges and intransigence and greater and greater hatred and dishonesty.  And over the last two elections, the breakdown of civility has become so noxious that it’s not possible to enjoy it anymore. If my guy wins, he will have a devil of a four years trying to get his agenda passed.

And I DO believe that the process of electing a government—such a special right we have here in the United States—ought to be enjoyable, even while serious and vitally, vitally important. I feel like it ought to be possible to discuss issues, and disagree with friends about them, without worrying about receiving a hundred hate-filled emails filled with ad hominem attacks. I feel like my daughter ought to be able to tell her classmates whom her parents support without being surrounded in the hall and tormented (and it’s not like we are voting for either a socialist or a libertarian—regardless of what either side says!).

Most of all, though, I want to be able to vote for my president and local representatives with the confidence that they are going to be thoughtful about the decisions they make and the votes they cast.  I don’t WANT to see lock-step  adherence to a platform, or swift punishment for deviation. It’s forcing politicians all over the country to abandon any creativity or subjectivity in the name of party orthodoxy. The system is perverted and broken.

It’s not that incivility and political hatred and divisiveness are new concepts, whether in the US (cf: Andrew Jackson, Tammany Hall, Wallace, on and on…) or abroad. It’s that this is among the first elections in the Information Age, where social media and cable networks are powerful enough to pull the sides apart rather than engaging in any kind of productive conversation, and unregulated organizations who are interested in particular issues are able to flood your inbox and Facebook feeds as well as the airwaves.

With all this depression—and the knowledge that I’m spitting in the wind, that the conversation isn’t going to improve any time soon—there are still very significant factors that keep me proud, that remind me that the United States is a remarkable and exciting experiment in institutional civility. I know, for example, that regardless of the result today, there is unlikely to be either rioting in the streets or independent militias marching on Washington, DC. There may be gridlock in Congress (sob!), but not Civil War. That may feel like a pretty lame leap—that I’m only proud that there won’t be WAR—but  talk to a citizen of Egypt if you think that’s farfetched.

This evening, after I leave work, I will meet Amanda and the kids and we will vote in the public school down the block from our home. We will wait in line past the PA bake sale, wend our way to the cafeteria.  Like generations of children before, my daughters will stand in front of me and tick off name after name, and hop past the brownies toward Columbus Avenue. We will smile nervously at those folks still waiting on line, then we will go home, turn on the television, and open our first bottle of wine.

Down the Shore

Jeff Cohen

Okay, so you've heard it from 100 different sources by now, but the fact is, Hurricane Sandy/Superstorm Sandy/Frankenstorm/Stormzilla barrelled through the east coast of the U.S., laying siege to much and doing so much damage that the hyperbole machine in television news was left bereft of superlatives to overuse.

Suffice it to say, this storm had a particular vendetta for my home state, aiming straight for the Jersey Shore, apparently unaware that this was going to be the last season for Snooki and The Situation anyway, and it needn't have bothered.

The roller coaster on the Seaside Heights boardwalk, depicted on the cover of OLD HAUNTS, is no longer there; it was last seen headed toward Great Britain, where it has no doubt heard antiquated amusement rides are treated well based on the testimony of a really big Ferris wheel.

Millions of people lost electrical power. I was among them, but we were lucky: Ours stayed off for only two days. Many have had it much worse, losing the ability to communicate, to work, to eat. People are without drinkable water. People are without homes. Trees toppled--they didn't just lose branches; they fell over. Onto houses, cars, people. The death toll is rising.

Don't get me started on the gasoline thing.

On the upside, the candle industry will no doubt see a surge, as will the flashlight business, the canned foods business and the board game business. I have a greater appreciation for the Amish than ever before, and I only had to live like that for 46 hours.

This is not to make light of people's suffering; many have been devastated. If there's a place to which you can donate (see Erin's post here), please do--a lot of New Jerseyans, New Yorkers and people in 18 other states (!) need help. Whole lives, even when no one was injured, were swept away. The entire coastline in New Jersey and on Long Island is in tatters; I saw cars encased in sand, buildings demolished by trees, beach erosion, boardwalks disappeared. People who made their living amusing the tourists during the summer season are going to have to decide if it's worth rebuilding, or if they have to join the large numbers of unemployed already trying to navigate a hideous job market.

Until last week, I agreed with Chris Christie perhaps only on the proposal that his name was Chris Christie (although I still find that a little dubious). But he did what a governor should do in a crisis like that--and it was an unprecedented crisis in New Jersey--he looked out for the people of his state and let nothing else distract him. Kudos, governor, and don't ever expect me to say that again.

What last week proved is that you can't assume anything. You can't plan confidently, assured that your blueprint is foolproof. You can't ever figure that you control every aspect of your life. We have been told time and again in the past week that Sandy (and can we get scarier names for these storms--who's afraid of Sandy?) was not an aberration--the new climate we've helped create will see to it that these monsters happen on a more frequent basis.

If there's something you've always want to do, do it. You don't know what's around the corner.

 

P.S. To our American readers: You might not have heard, but there's an election tomorrow. People on the Jersey Shore who have no electrical power are being allowed to vote online (without power?), by fax (see previous parenthetical statement), or bused to places where there is electricity so they can vote. You have no excuse. I'm not going to tell you who I think you should vote for unless you ask me, but I will say that you need to vote. Yes, you. Get your butt to the polls and cast a ballot. Yes. You.

The Aurora is Rising Behind Us

Josh Getzler

On September 11, 2001, I stood in a luxury suite in the Richmond County Bank Ballpark at St. George in Staten Island and watched the twin towers fall in front of me on a clear Tuesday morning. I was surrounded by my colleagues at the Staten Island Yankees, including my father, who’d been on the last ferry across NY Harbor before the planes hit the towers.

We sat in front of a television set for two days over there—the City had shut down and we were stranded in the ballpark. We didn’t know what the extent of the destruction was going to be, or how long New York City would be paralyzed. The Stock Exchange had shut down. People were not walking around with the usual purpose of a New York day, but rather were shambling almost aimlessly. The fear of the Unknown, of an enemy we were at best peripherally aware of, was excruciating.

Last night I sat in my apartment on the Upper West Side with my family, hearing the wind of Hurricane Sandy tear down Columbus Avenue toward the Museum of Natural History, where it knocked over three very old trees like toothpicks. When we looked downtown we could see the silhouette of the skyscraper on 57^th Street, where a crane had started to blow over, 80 stories above Midtown. On the TV we had on in our living room, we could see closer shots of the tower, and saw replays of the crane blow up, hesitate, then fall over.

Last night, like that night in the ballpark, I found myself watching versions of the same report over and over, whether from a tiny young woman reporting from a flood zone, looking like she was going to be swept away; or my old friend Maurice DuBois on CBS, who was at the anchor desk for eight straight hours introducing shots of Brooklyn, South Ferry, Asbury Park, Cape May, Hoboken. I was thinking about my office in Soho, and whether the Storm Surge (who knew?) was going to fry my desktop; and about my car parked in a cheap outdoor lot on 11^th Avenue. I thought of my friend Jon in Hoboken, who was supposed to meet me for dinner tomorrow night but who might be more concerned with being dry. I thought of an agent friend, Yishai Seidman, with his wife and baby on the Lower East Side, and wondered whether their street was under water. I spoke to my sister-in-law on Houston Street who was drinking wine. We drank some wine, then watched some TV. Eventually the kids came in and wanted to watch Madagascar 3, and we did that, and as the wind howled and New York Harbor flooded the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, we had Family night.

This morning, before we went outside in a surprisingly fresh and lovely day, and bought groceries at the least crowded Fairway any of us could remember, I went onto Facebook. I saw updates—mostly relieved it wasn’t worse, even for those who had trees fall down or lost power—from many friends, and posted my own yes-we’re-fine update. By the time we got home with vegetables and ice cream, I’d had nineteen comments that were variations on glad-you’re-OK from 14 states, as well as Israel, New Zealand and England. Pretty remarkable.

Make no mistake, my experience was a lucky one, and ultimately with minimal discomfort. Yes, it will be days before I’ll be able to go back to my office, but my job can be reasonably virtual (as much as I miss my HSG colleagues). My home, unlike the ones in Point Pleasant or Battery Park City, was neither battered nor flooded. I’m inconvenienced by the lack of mass transit and saddened by the losses of property, businesses, and in thirty-something cases, lives. Unlike the days after 9/11, however, I feel none of the sense of foreboding and potential future disaster. The enemy was strong but fleeting, and past us. And, ultimately, natural.

By the way, I’d thought I was going to spend this blog post talking about the loss of civility in politics, given the time of year. But as ever in a case of disaster here, for a short time at least New Yorkers set aside their social, political and religious differences and were simply kind and supportive to each other. Politics withdrew for a day at least. It’ll be back tomorrow, I’d guess, and it’ll be just as depressing. But for a little while, anyway, it was good to remember what it was like to be One in adversity, working together to help each other. 

A Bit Breezy...

Jeff Cohen

We're getting some serious winds now, and being told that this is just the warm-up for the real stuff to come tonight and tomorrow. This storm really seems to have some sort of vendetta against New Jersey, and it's taking several other states with us. So be safe, everyone in essentially the eastern half of the country, and if I lose electrical power (which they're pretty much promising us we will), assume I'm okay until you hear otherwise.

Hang in there. Look at the bright side--haven't heard a word about the election all day.

Juicing

Josh Getzler

One of my clients, thriller writer Eric Seder, came in to the HSG office today to say hi. Conversation, as it does, wandered to baseball.

Eric wanted to know if any of the players on the minor league teams I ran in Staten Island were obviously going to make it to the majors, even when they were newbies in single-A. I replied that there had been a couple on our teams—Chien-Ming Wang and Brett Gardner, for two who just seemed to have “it.”

“How about Melky Cabrera?” Eric asked, speaking of the former Yankee outfielder who was the MVP of the all star game this year, then a month later was suspended for the rest of the regular season when he tested positive for HGH.

I said that while he was the best player by far on a pretty much unwatchable Staten Island Yankees squad in 2003, we were all pretty surprised that he’d made it to the majors in a very quick two and a half years.

“Did you know he was juicing? Were you surprised?”

Those are actually very different questions, I said. I didn’t know he was taking HGH, that’s for sure. Yet, when he first made the Show as quickly as he did, then became a star (and seemingly quite a bit bigger, physically), it didn’t completely shock me that he had taken a shortcut.

The past couple of weeks has seen the uncovering of what seems to be an epidemic of literary “sock puppetting” and pay-per-review scandals, where authors are found to have created false identities on (mostly) Amazon in order to write glowing reviews of their own books to improve their rankings; or paid writers for hire to write raves for them (often without having read the book). John Locke, who’s sold more than a million books independently, was found to have paid for hundreds of reviews. While there was a certain amount of tsking and general outrage, it was nothing compared to this weekend. Then it came out that RJ Ellory, best-selling traditionally-published crime fiction writer and winner of best-book of the year in 2010 in the UK, not only created sock puppet IDs on Amazon to pump himself up, but also to slam and one-star books by many authors competing with him.

There was an avalanche of rebuke, and Ellory apologized for his “poor judgment.”It seems clear, however, that he’s just among the first to get caught, but certainly won’t be the last. It places into doubt the validity of reader reviews on Amazon etc, however, and it certainly feels like their records ought to have an asterisk next to them—kind of like Barry Bonds’s home run mark or Melky Cabrera’s all star game MVP award.

I think that much of the review-manipulation story relates pretty nicely to the Melky Cabrera juicing scandal—talented participants in a highly competitive field use dishonest methods to get ahead of their counterparts. But where the comparison breaks down, and where a lot of the outrage over Ellory in particular comes in, is in the fact that he used his false identities not just to build himself up, but very specifically to break his opponents down. So often when people talk about steroid users they say “well, he was dishonest, and what he did was dangerous—but only to himself. He’s not harming anyone else in the process.” (I know, that’s not really true, but the argument deals with future direct medical consequences of injecting yourself with hormones or rubbing on the Cream and the Clear.)

Ellroy, on the other hand, both raised himself up and brought down, say, Mark Billingham, and that goes over the line. I’m not saying he would have been excused. But the community would not have been so thoroughly angry with him for it had he “only” self-promoted. The author Keith Raffel posted the following on Facebook today, and I think it speaks for so many of us:

“I’m reluctant to pile on, but have you been following the scandal of authors anonymously praising their own books in reviews on Amazon, while savaging books by their colleagues? I can at least understand the impulse behind the former, but the latter seems particularly reprehensible. Sigh.”

Post script to the coda: I was just reading this to my wife, who said “Why are you being so even-handed? I just got back from my first day of school and all we heard about in the faculty meeting was how rigorous ethics must be. Why are you being so understanding of the people who do this, even when they are “merely” self-promoting. It messes it up for everyone and makes people who are working their butts off to make it think that the only way they can succeed is by cheating. It was true in baseball and it’s true here, and it’s true in high school. It’s just not OK.” 

Hey TED! No, Over Here!

Jeff Cohen

I have a new impossible goal in life. I know, I've already posted here about how I'd like to meet Mel Brooks someday, and how I would desperately love to be interviewed on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. But this is a new, different, clearly unobtainable goal that I can obsess about for a while until something else I can't do comes along.

I want to be invited to give a TED Talk.

If you've already come across these lovely little chats, covering a broad range of viewpoints and subjects, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, hit the link and take in a few. I'll still be here when you get back. But be forewarned: The suckers are addictive as all get out.

Back so soon? Okay: TED stands for "Technology, Entertainment and Design," and was in fact not started by Ted Turner in an effort to get his name on yet another thing that would be cooler without his name on it. (Turner Classic Movies, or the Classic Movie Channel--I ask you?) the lectures, opinions, personal stories, and explanations delivered at the TED conferences and available for free at the TED website are thought-provoking, entertaining, some maddening and others soothing. Some encouraging, others outrageous. 

One thing I've noticed in delving into the TED archives online is that I absolutely love listening to smart people talk. These are not dry lectures delivered with pompous certainty in an effort to prove that the speaker is so much smarter than, let's say, you are. These are impassioned, creative attempts to persuade or inform on a subject that is always abolutely vital to the speaker's sensibility. I couldn't get through high school biology, but I can listen to Juan Enriquez speak on the possibility that our great-grandchildren will actually be a different species than we are and not only understand, but start to think it's not such a bad thing.

The audiences at TED talks always seem so smart and eager, exactly the kind of people to whom it is best to speak. They want you to be brilliant, and so you can be. 

Of course, there are a few significant roadblocks in the way of my personal quest to speak at TED. For one, nobody has ever heard of me. That's sort of a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Rajesh Rao and Carolyn Porco aren't exactly household names (although I'm sure they're extremely well known within their chosen fields), and yet there they are on the TED site. 

Another potential problem is the fact that I am, in fact, not brilliant. I'm good, don't get me wrong; I'm not a person without some intelligence. But brilliant? Standing out among geniuses? Talented beyond all reasonable expectations? Looking in the mirror objectively, probably not.

There are few ways around that particular obstacle. The people at TED are smart; they're going to know I'm not brilliant. In order to convince them of my suitability for their program, I'll need an ace in the hole, and I think I have one.

I can tell a good story.

Honestly, that's the one thing I've always been able to do. And TED talks, no matter how technical or persuasive, need a story to propel them. Beeban Kidron is an accomplished filmmaker, but in telling her tale of creating a chain of clubs exposing young people to different types of films they might not have seen, she keeps the audience entranced with her own narrative, carefully weaving in details of her family history with the story of creating the clubs for young people in Britain. I almost skipped her talk, and now I'm glad I didn't.

The last thing you need for sure is a good topic, a wish, something that fulfills the TED slogan of "ideas worth spreading." And this I have. I'll even share it with you. I'd like to talk about the necessity of comedy in our lives. The idea that however dismissed as lightweight entertainment and overlooked by those who decide what is and is not significant in the world of art, comedy is the most difficult to conquer, the least often mastered, and the most emotionally healing. Talk about a "good cry" all you like; a few minutes of helpless laughter--this is scientifically proven--actually make you healthier.

Having made some study of the subject, I could offer examples, clips, sound bites, and observations of my own. I could (given a little time) compile research backing up my claim that comedy is underappreciated and actually therapeutic. Sure, Reader's Digest might have made "laughter is the best medicine" an insipid cliche, but that doesn't make the thought behind it any less true.

I might even get a few laughs. Maybe cure a mild sinus headache. Stranger things have happened.

TED, for all its genius, has yet to explore this topic. And while I'm not a scientist, a psychologist, a celebrated comedian or a novelist on the short list for the National Book Award (or even the Bob Award, which I'm pretty sure hasn't been invented yet), I think I could talk fairly intelligently on the subject for eighteen minutes.

Don't you think?

An Extraordinary Experience in Social Media

Josh Getzler

After the last few crazy weeks  of conferences, the launch of a significant book I represent, and my son’s bar mitzvah, I had anticipated that this week’s post would be a discussion of BEA and Deadweather and Sunrise (and maybe a word or two about a beautifully rendered Haftorah).

But then I got an email from my cousin Glen last Wednesday with the subject line “Holy Crap!” and the week went in a completely unexpected direction. I will get to BEA and books next week. For now I need to talk about my High School—the Horace Mann School in New York—and the aftermath of this past week’s cover story in The New York Times Magazine; its revelation of sexual abuse by faculty members of students during a period that included my high school years (and implicated teachers I knew). What I want to talk about is less the story itself (which you can read at http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/10/magazine/the-horace-mann-schools-secret-history-of-sexual-abuse.html?pagewanted=all) than about the extraordinary way alumni gathered on Facebook to discuss the Times story; their own high school experiences; and, at times, their own experiences—both good and bad—with these and other faculty members.

It started a few hours after the article appeared, after I’d already forwarded it to my friends around the country and we started a mini email discussion group. I was invited, as a Horace Mann alum, to join a closed Facebook group where other alums could safely and privately go through their feelings and help each other out. I went to it, expecting (I think) to take a look, shrug my shoulders, and log off. After all, I’d not been a victim. As far as I know, none of my close friends had been abused by their teachers.  I figured that looking in on the conversation would feel voyeuristic and uncomfortable. I also figured it would be a small, closed group of people in crisis, and I didn’t feel I had either the credibility or knowledge to provide solace.

It is now six days later. There are currently more than 2,000 alumni on the group. There have been thousands of posts. Person after person talks about how they are being completely inefficient at work and home because they are compulsively reading the posts. I have never seen anything remotely resembling this extended, intense, constructive, relevant, compelling conversation among an enormous group of people from around the world. And it’s not a group of teenagers gossiping, either. Rather, it’s a couple of thousand forty- and fifty-somethings working through decades-old issues together. And considering the population—largely cosmopolitan graduates of a New York prep school who were jaded in ninth grade and grew up with both pressure and privilege—there is an almost complete absence of snark. The writing is great, the emotions raw, the reminiscences sometimes surprising, sometimes funny, sometimes bitter.

I had a pretty institutionally unremarkable tenure at Horace Mann from 1981-1986. I was reasonably well-adjusted most of the time, and no more miserable than most teenagers when I was miserable. I was in some plays and on the tennis team, worked very hard all the time, formed a band with some other students, and went to college (in my mind) very well prepared academically. I made a good number of friends, many of whom I’ve stayed close to for more than 25 years. We talk a little about HM when we get together.

But I don’t think I’ve had a round-the-campfire discussion about kids and teachers, who’s cool (and who’s a jerk), where this was going to lead us, how are we going to make it through, social striving and resentment, in decades. Now it’s more likely to be about our own kids’ schools and issues, or our current professional angst. I haven’t thought in years about what it meant to sit on the left side of the cafeteria or get picked on by the chem teacher.

But for the last six days, as alum after alum has gathered on Facebook and just talked out issues of Crossed Lines and inappropriate gropes during drivers ed and fallen heroes and institutional responsibility, I’ve found myself riveted to the page. And I’ve found myself, guiltily, enjoying myself. It’s inappropriate, like when you see out-of-town relatives at a family funeral and make inside jokes at the cemetery or shiva, and are happy to be together even when you should be more solemn. I’ve made contact with old classmates and heard stories of 25-year-old hijinks. I’m constantly impressed with the intellect and sensitivity of the people on line—and of the varied and fascinating careers they’ve had, which have come out in their writing.

And the reason for all of this—the catharsis, the collective grief and healing and discussion and argument and reconciliation—has been Facebook, remarkably. So many of us use Facebook for either time wasting or business or keeping in touch with relatives or keeping track of old lovers, that it sometimes becomes a ubiquitous punchline. In this case, it’s become a virtual auditorium, self-policed but remarkably non-anarchic. The self-appointed administrators have been diligent and serious but not obtrusive.

We hear all the time about the dangers of the internet. Unlike my generation, which apparently had enough trouble policing predators in their midst, my kids’ generation has to deal with people they don’t even know looking them up on line and virtually abusing them. But most teachers are not child molesters, and schools like Horace Mann have implemented policies to work toward eliminating abuses like the ones the victims in the article endured. We talk to our kids about sex and safety in ways our parents had no reason to think about discussing with us. And when social media works, like it has so brilliantly these past six days, you can see carefully past the danger and to its almost limitless constructive potential. 

 

All Fair

Josh Getzler

Greetings from Cozy Single Room 17 of the London Lodge, otherwise known as the Cupboard Under the Stairs (Where's Hedwig?).

I'm here for the London Book Fair, having arrived Monday morning off the red-eye and leaving Thursday noon. So it's 2 1/2 days full of meetings, followed by beers and the occasional curry. Ive always said that, other than New York, the city I could most easily move to would be Rome. But after visiting with the family this summer and returning now, there really is no contest. I've taken to London--rain, expense, tiny hotel rooms and all--and...well, I guess I'll have to go to Rome soon to compare...

OK, so how is this Fair different from all other Fairs (sorry, Passover hangover)? Well, let me start by saying that my comparisons are the BEA in New York, writers conferences both regional and national, and professional baseball winter meetings from my other life. I've not yet been to Frankfurt or Bologna, which my sense is this most closely resembles. But from my experience, this is actually closest in atmosphere to a baseball winter meeting.

The first thing is that this doesn't at all resemble any writers conference, most notably because there simply aren't many authors visible. This is a working conference for publishing professionals--publishers, agents, international rights managers and reps, suppliers and other vendors. It's incredibly commercial--it's a trade show, where the product (sorry authors for using the word!) is books. In that respect, there are similarities to BEA--big convention center, with booths for all the publishers. But in New York, there's a real sense of the presence of writers, and also of the Public. Librarians, booksellers, and fans buy tickets and travel the floor, picking up ARC's (though fewer and fewer each year) and seeing what the publishers have to offer. Here everyone seems to be associated with a house, an agency or a supplier.

Another difference between this and every other conference I've attended is that I am constantly hearing other languages--moreso than at BEA. Of course, this is the first time I've attended a conference where I'm specifically selling translation rights. But the International Rights Center is very large and well-populated, and in any five square foot area I'm as likely to hear Chinese or German or Dutch, French, or Spanish. Today, for example, I met with (consecutively) a German publisher, our Italian co-agent, a Brazilian publisher, a foreign literary scout, a British editorial director, our British co-agents, an American editor and his British counterpart, our German co-agents, and another British editor. Yesterday I met with French agents, Korean agents, and had drinks with a bunch of film folks. Tomorrow is six more, plus an author schlepping in from Manchester for coffee.

I'm beat, but also exhilarated. The people have been simply wonderful--smart, productive, all excited to talk books. I've been pitching and re-pitching, seeing what's getting nods and what blank stares. I'll go through that analysis next week, when I've had the chance to recover and really consider what I've been hearing. And yes, there's lots of talk about ebook pricing and distribution, and belt-tightening etc that we always hear and complain about. And of course folks who've been to a bunch of these fairs say that it feels, you know, DIFFERENT from the good old days. But that's not the way I see it--and not simply because I am, as ever, looking for good things. It's because there IS a sense that books can sell--whether because of or despite the growth of e-publishing. Publishers are looking at opportunities to grow or expand lists to reflect and exploit this new reality. They are, among other things discussing launching e-original imprints (almost all the publishers are doing this, particularly for their genre fiction).

And the other reason I've been enjoying this trip so much is that it has given me a chance to meet people I've sometimes never even spoken with, but only communicated via email. There's a ton of two-cheek kissing and "so THERE you are" in the entrance to the rights center, and good-natured complaining about sore feet and inability to navigate the cavernous Earl's Court convention center.

I can't wait till tomorrow.

A Response, Not A Rebuttal

Josh Getzler

When Jeff told me that he was going to write his blog post this week on the relationship between author and agent, he made it sound dire. He gave me warning because he said that he wanted to give me the chance to rebut his post. I appreciated the opportunity, and waited quite apprehensively to see what he was going to say.

Ultimately, though, my response is hardly a rebuttal, but rather an expansion of sorts, from my perspective, of the relationship between writer and agent. I want to spend much of the time, actually, discussing an element of this relationship which has always been important but now, as the industry changes seemingly hourly, is even more so: Agent as expectation manager.

Yes, yes, Jeff is right that writers take the very blood out of their veins, give the outpouring to someone who (most of the time) isn't even related to them (and oftentimes not in the same city or state), and asks them to do right by them; to select the correct editor to submit to, to write the most pursuasive pitch, to negotiate the best contract, to stay on top of the publisher to ensure that the book gets the best possible chance to succeed. And the very vast majority of agents take that incredibly powerful responsibility very seriously and work hard to achieve the greatest success. As Jeff said, most of us are in this because we fundamentally love books and are excited to find something we think is terrific; so of course we want to see it reach its potential. It's also how we can pay the rent.

And there is the joke that we all hear that so much of our job is talking insecure and apprehensive artists off ledges that we ought to get degrees in Psychiatry rather than English (or business or writing, but you get the idea).

But now--and particularly in the past months--we have a new responsibility. It's now very important to alert our clients (whether current or potential) that being a writer no longer means, simply, Being a Writer. Rather, with the concurrent blossoming of social media and online communities along with the tightening of most publishers' purse strings in marketing and publicity, a writer is now responsible not just for writing his or her book, but also for getting word out.  And we've hit a tipping point recently, I think. Within the last year, I've seen writers who sign their contracts with a platform either in place  or planned out in detail exceed expectations regarding presales and early momentum. Conversely authors who don't--or who are either resistant or indifferent to this new paradigm--are unhappy, confused and resentful of the fact that simply writing something of quality is insufficient to success: They also need to go out and shill for it.

Both reactions--acceptance and enthusiasm on one side, rejection or grudging, half-hearted attempts on the other--are perfectly reasonable. I totally understand why an author would want to walk away from this crazy business rather than have to spend hours thinking of 140-character updates that might result in sales. I also see how a well thought-out strategy starting several months before publication and going a few months after pub can be both exciting and satisfying to an author who really buys in. (Incidentally, I'm not bringing up the publisher's role at all--that is the subject of a different post from this one.)

So my detour-filled addendum to Jeff is this: Not only do we need to manage an author's expectations on editors' responses, advance and print run sizes, sales figures, and subsequent contracts, we now also need to manage marketing and publicity expectations, and get into very detailed strategies as to how best to market the book on line--which the author needs to do whether he or she wants to or not. We need to do so early--on signing perhaps, and certainly on offer of contract. We need to understand each client's appetite for self-promotion, just how far we can or should push. We need to set up meetings with online consultants--or know enough to do it ourselves. We need to do our homework and learn from other writers' successes and failures. We are no longer "simply" first readers, shrinks, contract negotiators and cheerleaders, but marketing consultants as well. And we all need to get used to it.

PS--Initially when I read Jeff's post I was going to discuss how much work I do on manuscripts before submitting them, and whether I ever go out with a book I'm not 100% excited about or think isn't 100% done. It's a very reasonable question, and one I'll discuss next week. 

Oscar or Eagle?

Jeff Cohen

Think carefully, now:

Every four years, we have an interesting confluence of events in the United States, and particularly one that I think helps define the type of person you think you might be. Sure, you can look at the years whose numbers in the Roman Calendar are divisible by four and say, "Okay, there's Leap Day, but so what?" I will argue, however, that a deep psychological truth can be discovered if you are in the mood for self-reflection.

Consider: Every four years, we have a time when you can ask yourself a very telling, and in some cases, pivotal question. And the way you answer it can determine, if not the course of your life, at least the route you would prefer it take. Ready?

Which would you rather win: An Academy Award, or the Presidency of the United States?

Wait. Think before you answer. These are two races that will be dissected, scrutinized, analyzed and for all I know bowlderized before the year is over. Winners will be chosen by a select group (in the case of the presidency, too select because not enough people choose to participate) of voters. Losers will be shunted to the side, only to become the answers to trivia questions as the years pass. They will have to appear jovial and conciliatory at the moment their rivals are declared victors, and go home to lick their wounds in private, firing their closest advisors who brought upon this outrage, since the blame must certainly not be their own.

And how you answer the question will provide a window to... well, not your soul, necessarily, but certainly your megalomania. Which would you choose?

Personally, I'm going home with Oscar if I get the choice.

Every election year, voters complain that we only seem to get candidates who are out of touch with the average voter. They say the people who run for office see themselves as above the typical citizen, because of money or power or the seductive effects of both those things, coupled with the constant reinforcement they're given from sycophants who tell them everything they do is perfect.

Of course we get those people. Of course crazy people run for president. What sane person would want that job? What human being within driving distance of reality would think he or she is qualified to do it?

Nope, I'm getting an Academy Award. All that happens then is people who do the same thing you do tell you they think you did a good job. There's no responsibility. Everything that is required of the award is done BEFORE you campaign for it. After you win, you go to some parties, do some interviews, and go home (preferably) with your spouse to celebrate. Then next year, you show up to hand out the award to the next person in line, and wait for the next update of Trivial Pursuit to see if your name's made it in there yet.

Once you're elected president, you begin to age in dog years. Nobody has ever left that office looking as good as they did when they arrived. People start to complain--before you begin the job--that you're not doing it well enough. Everyone you've ever met wants a job, and will be incredibly peeved if they don't get the one they want--and a lot of them wanted to job you have now.

Then you get the first briefing from the security and defense people, where you find out what's REALLY going on, and if your hair wasn't grey before, it will be by eleven that morning. If it was grey before, it will start to fall out.

And here's how crazy most of these people are--after four years of that, they work like the Dickens to get it all AGAIN.

The presidency? You can keep it. I'd just like to get the envelope from which my name was read and the chance to thank people while Billy Crystal looks on. Or, if I don't achieve all my aspirations, a tape of the phone call when they let me know I'm in the running. I can fake not hating the winner as well as anybody, I'll bet. Just give me the chance, I say.

After all, it's an honor just to be nominated.

Which one would YOU choose?

P.S. Pitchers and catchers reported yesterday. There is hope.

Yes, I'm a Valentine's Scrooge, As Well

Jeff Cohen

Tomorrow, in case you haven't seen enough card, candy, and jewelry commercials yet, is Valentine's Day, and I'm going to let you in on the secret, romantic plan my wife and I have made for the day.

We're not doing anything special.

I know; you're envious. Especially if you're a man, and the pressure on you to provide "her" (they never say who "she" is, which confused the hell out of me when I was single, because I figured they knew and weren't telling) with a romantic gesture that will knock "her" socks--and probably other garments--off is tremendous.

This year, the two of us will be marking a number of significant milestones in our lives and our relationship. And we've decided mutually that being told when we should feel especially romantic about each other is, in a word, stupid. We're not paying extra at a restaurant because it's February 14. We're not indulging in gifts to remind each other how we feel--if we can't do that on our own, perhaps our relationship has bigger problems. And we're not succumbing to the conventions of a society that bases all its emotions on a profit margin for some retailer or another.

Besides, I teach in Philadelphia on Tuesdays, and I'm not home until late.

Personally, I've always resented the idea that the calendar should dictate my mood. I'm not jolly in December, for any number of reasons that make perfect sense to me. I'm not especially spooked out at the end of October, but I do enjoy candy. I don't have a particular taste for turkey in late November, but I'll go along with the crowd on that one because not much is expected of me. Patriotism in July? It's too hot. But I do like fireworks; they're fun to look at.

I love my wife pretty much all the time. She knows it, or she really hasn't been paying attention, and she's too smart for that. There is no point in indulging in anything with a red ribbon on it, or flowers that were half the price on February 13 and will be again on February 15. 

We're not completely ignoring the sentiment, but we're bending it to our own preferences. If you're looking for us on May 12, you'll probably get voice mail.

That's the anniversary of the day we met. A considerably more significant date in our history.

Happy February 13, everybody. Feel free to feel any way you feel today.

Because tomorrow, they don't want you to have the choice. 

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 6 days.

A Word Can Be A Powerful Thing... Unfortunately

Jeff Cohen

This is completely off-topic, but important enough that I beg your indulgence: Some of you might know (and if not, you're about to find out) that I have a son who was diagnosed at the age of six with Asperger's syndrome, classified as a "high-functioning" form of autism. He is now 22 years old, a senior in college and making his first serious student film.

He could not have gotten this far and done this well without the help of dedicated teachers, paraprofessionals, school psychologists, social skills therapists, occupational therapists, and no doubt an army of other people I'm blanking on at the moment. And all that was made possible by his classification, when in kindergarten, as a "special needs" child, specifically one with a disorder on the autism spectrum. Most of it was paid for by our local school system, which was a major plus, since we would not have been able to afford it otherwise.

And now, due to a proposed change in semantics, people like my son might not be able to access any of that assistance.

As we speak, the collected list of accepted mental health diagnoses, known as the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) V (the fifth time this has been issued) is being compiled. And one of the changes being considered is to eliminate the diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome and fold it into the overall category of autism. That's a semantic change, and in and of itself, does no harm.

The problem is that it also makes it necessary for those who exhibit Asperger's tendencies to exhibit a majority of the criteria for--get ready for what they're calling it--"classic" autism. Many won't--it's estimated as many as 75%--and therefore won't be classified as having autism.

And that means they won't get the support they need. One of the members of the Yale University Child Study team, and an author of the coming DSM V, was quoted in the New York Times last week as saying the change could, and I'm paraphrasing here, nip the autism epidemic "in the bud." This is tantamount to saying that if we say leukemia isn't cancer, we can cut those who have cancer by a large percentage.

It's not going to be a huge thing for my son; he's gotten the support he needed and has done well. He'll continue to do well.

But the DSM IV, the first one to have included Asperger's as a diagnosis, was published in 1994. My son was diagnosed in 1995. Is his generation going to the only one that gets the help it needs?

I sincerely hope not.

You might not have a child who is diagnosed with Asperger's or one of the other diagnoses about to be eliminated. But I'll bet a dollar you know someone who is diagnosed, or has someone in the family who is diagnosed.

Changing the name of the disorder doesn't eliminate the disorder. It eliminates only the funding that provides support for those who have it, and that would be an outrage, a tragedy. This is not something that's going to go away because we decide to call it something else.

You can get in touch with the authors of the DSM V at dsm5@psych.org or apa@psych.org. I've already done so. I'd urge you to add your voice.

Next week, it'll be one day before the release of OLD HAUNTS when I post. You can bet cash money I'll be on the topic of crime fiction then.

Pitchers and catchers report in 20 days.

State of the Union

Josh Getzler

I just spent the last hour and a half watching the State of the Union address (and pregame, and DVRed the postgame show), and I have to say, I simply love the pomp of the event. We are an amazing political experiment in the country, and while the system is broken in so many ways (regardless of what side of the aisle you sit), this is one of those nights that transfixes me amidst the political mishegas of congressional gridlock and an election year.

This time, for the first time, we watched with the kids, two of whom have the strep I generously shared with them last week. As is the case with all kids, they were very impressed with the entrance and the introduction and the first, oh, ten or so words of the speech, then wanted to know if they could switch to Victorious. But then I told them I used to work there, and they perked up (albeit briefly).

"You worked in the United Nations?"

"Congress, Sweetie, this is the Capitol Building."

"My class visited the UN last year." Then she turned back to J-14.

There was a notable, if subtle, change in the look of the House chamber this year: No teenagers kneeling near the podium in polyester ties and grey slacks (or skirts). That's because a few months ago, the congressional page program, expensive and long since redundent from the use of cell phones and email, had been abolished. And it was one of those understandable shames.

I worked as a page in the House during the summer of 1985, before my senior year of high school. I lived in a dorm in one of the House Office Buildings with 17 year-olds from all over the country, and spent my days running from the House floor to assorted office buildings, carrying messages and (much of the time) boxes containing folded American flags to be raised on top of the Capitol. (Actually--spoiler alert!--there is a little flagpole on the side of the Capitol roof where a fellow spends his entire day raising and lowering flags in order to send them back to assorted districts with certificates that the flag few "Over the Capitol." And you know what? I think that's just fine.)

I spent those eight weeks meeting and becoming friends with kids from all over the country, from my West Virginia-bred roommate who'd never met a Jew before to the page from Utah who was the first Mormon I'd met. The entire gamut of political views was represented, and we spent huge numbers of hours geeking out over whose office was nicest, which Members were most respected (Jack Kemp in the House, Ted Kennedy in the Senate, judging by the number of people who showed up when they spoke, as opposed to the nearly empty chambers most of the rest of the time). It was a program that was only incidentally valuable in terms of actually running the Capitol efficiently (it WAS 17 year-olds!), but there was something else great about it: It was an incubator for future public servants, a first step for the politically interested (or just well-connected...). It was an unforgettable summer.

I've stayed in touch with several of my fellow pages over the ensuing 26 years (Jeez!), and when the announcement came that the program was going to be disbanded, the budget saved, we posted for a while on Facebook and were wistful. Because while, of course it was a relic of a bygone era, it's sure a pity to see it go.  

 

 

Theatre, Writing, and Pictures of My Dog

Jeff Cohen

New York: One day we Garden Staters are going to be condescended to one time too many, remember you live on an island, and cut you off. I'm just saying.

First of all, for those who have been asking, we went to see THE ARTIST on Christmas Day. It was very good, different (clearly), inventive. My life did not change in a significant way, but I enjoyed it, and that's enough. Later in the week we went to see Lysistrata Jones on Broadway. Fun, breezy, very well performed. Not getting nearly enough press.

On to new business:

*I'm writing something new, without a contract, just for myself (until I finish it and send it to Josh). Not a mystery, not like anything that's come before. And it's scaring the living hell out of me. (No, it's not horror. It won't scare YOU...)

*I've been listening to music lately by Paul Melancon and The Goldbergs. Leave it to me that my "new music" is five-to-eight years old.

*Far too many of the artists I listen to are now dead. Last year I lost Gerry Rafferty and Phoebe Snow. To go with George Harrison, John Lennon, Jim Croce, Eric Woolfson, Harry Chapin, Harry Nilsson, Elliot Smith and Cass Elliott (among others), that's just too much. This is part of getting older, and like most of getting older, I could do without it.

*I can't wait for Wednesday, just so I won't have to hear about Iowa again for another four years. Except when my wife talks about her college years.

*On January 1, the New York Times printed a special section on the Oscars. Dear New York Times: That's too soon. I can still remember who won some of the awards last year.

*I won't be going to Malice Domestic this year. I'm sorry about that; I wish I could go, but it's not possible. The travel budget won't allow it, and it happens to fall on the weekend of my 25th wedding anniversary. I like being married more than I like being an author, so I'll be back at Malice in 2013. Probably not as the guest of honor, but that's understandable.

*Winter break is just long enough to get used to having the kids back home. They they go back to school and we go through the whole "empty nest" thing again. It's cruel, in a weird way.

*Dear Dick Clark: Retire.

*I've been digitizing family photos, and therefore have been looking through every picture we've pretty much ever taken. What's interesting is how the dog has aged. His snout is now almost all white. It's a preview of coming attractions for my beard.

*Where's Old Zealand? (If this is to be believed, it's an island off Denmark.) 

*To Whomever is in charge of weather: What we're getting in the Northeast right now is just fine. Don't change a thing. Until April.

*Just to mention it: OLD HAUNTS by E.J. Copperman will be published five weeks from tomorrow. A to-the-second countdown can be found here. But who's counting?

*Pitchers and catchers report in 49 days. 

*Getting ready to teach again, starting next week. I always get nervous ahead of time. Isn't that odd?

*Got an amplifier for my acoustic 12-string as a gift. Had no idea how frightening it would be to actually hear what it sounds like when I play.

*I don't understand the animosity toward the Post Office. Who else is going to carry something of yours across the country for 45 cents?

*My son's enthusiasm is persuading me that I should take a look at DOCTOR WHO. Not sure if or when I will, but his opinion is usually pretty valid.

*Josh Getzler is a really good agent. Shannon Jamieson Vazquez is an incredibly talented editor. The readers I hear from are enthusiastic and intelligent. I am really lucky.

*For those who responded: My son Josh's film SCAVENGERS has exceeded the budget amount he was hoping for--we're blown away by the response. Thank you all. Shooting will begin right after OLD HAUNTS publishes in February.

Herding Cats

Jeff Cohen

It's that week again.

Every year, my family--that is, myself, my wife, and our children, who are now young adults--look forward to Christmas. This is because it's a day we set aside (you should pardon the expression) religiously for two things: Chinese food and a movie.

We're Jews. It's the law.

And as the children got older, there were two evolutionary effects to this tradition: First, we could stop going to the current "family" film, which quite often was charming and just as often excruciating for the parents attending. Second, each year it gets a little more difficult to find a film everyone will agree to see.

No, I'm not asking for suggestions. We do know what films are available and no, we're not just going to stay home and watch a video. We're Jews. It's the law.

This year is no exception. Negotiations similar to those which averted the fictional government shutdown have been going on since roughly August. December 25 is, as of this posting, six days away, and no agreement has been reached yet. Keep in mind that a single "nay" vote, unless the voter is swayed to changing it, can eliminate a film from consideration.

Here are the choices, and the dramatis personae involved:

1. Me. 

2. My wife.

3. Our son.

4. Our daughter.

Films:

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. No. I never drank the Kool Aid on this series, saw the first Swedish film made from it, thought it was an okay, fairly standard thriller, and am not the least bit interested in seeing this one. Do me a favor and don't comment about how "yummy" Daniel Craig is, or I'll have to banish you from the blog.

Voting against: 

War Horse. I'm a Spielberg fan, so I'll follow him almost anywhere, but the ladies in the family are concerned that the horse of the title--not the people, mind you, who cares what happens to them--might be mistreated in the story. 

Voting against: 

Tin Tin. Again, Spielberg. Action, adventure, in an Indiana Jones kind of mood. Sign me up. But there's a holdout against motion capture animation who thinks it looks "stupid." Move on.

Voting against: 

Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows. Saw the first one a couple of Christmases ago and thought it was an okay action movie, more "James Bond Wakes Up in 1886" than Sherlock Holmes. No problem with waiting for Netflix on this one. Feel like we've done it already.

Voting against: 

The Artist. A black-and-white, almost entirely silent, drama about the beginning of the sound era in film. Gotten great reviews. Sure Oscar contender. Might even be interesting to watch.

Voting against:   and the film's distributor, which has not made it available in the state of New Jersey. Apparently we here in the provinces are too stupid to understand it until next year.

The Iron Lady. I'm not going to see a movie about Margaret Thatcher or J. Edgar Hoover. I don't care how good the performances are. I'd be squirming in my seat for two hours. No.

Voting against: 

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: A 9/11 movie in which Tom Hanks, although his name is above the title, plays someone who doesn't make it out of the towers. How much do you think Tom is in the movie? I'm sure it's very uplifting. Pass.

Voting against: 

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: An adaptation of a John LeCarre novel that Alec Guinness already did really well on television decades ago. Great reviews, impressive cast, possibly not the most uplifting ever made, few laughs. Also might not be available in the Garden State.

Voting against: 

We Bought a Zoo: Good for you. Cameron Crowe. Treacly family "fun" about a widower who's so distraught he unwittingly buys--yup--a zoo. Luckily, Scarlett Johansson lives next door.

Voting against: 

My Week With Marilyn: Never been a huge fan of Marilyn Monroe. Don't really care what it was like to spend a week with her. Think the guy who wrote the book is trying to cash in on 15 minutes (or 7 days) of fame.

Voting against: 

Mission Impossible--Ghost Protocol: If I don't even understand the title, what chance do I have with the movie? Didn't care much for the first three. Am indifferent toward Tom Cruise. I like movies that have characters. Call me crazy.

Voting against: 

Young Adult: I don't like Diablo Cody.

Voting against: 

New Year's Eve: Don't be ridiculous.

Voting against: 

Already seen (by at least one family member): Hugo, The Descendants

The Chinese food is the easy part.

My Fellow Americans--Buy My Book

Jeff Cohen

There was a Page One story in the New York Times last week suggesting that one candidate for U.S. president (I'm not naming names, but the candidate in question is named for something John Cleese once claimed to have been turned into by a witch) was in fact squeezing the whole running-for-office thing in around his book signings. It was also speculated earlier in the campaign (when a certain ex-pizza-executive was still in the running) that another was selling books while making stump speeches and doing national TV interviews.

What a brilliant maneuver. You sell your books while making a half-hearted effort at running for office, getting your name, your face (and your book) all over the media and selling a whole bunch of hardcovers in the process. You face ridiculously high odds against ever taking office, but your book will hit the bestseller list in no time flat.

So today, my fellow Americans (and those dropping in from any other point on the globe, or Venus, or wherever), I am announcing my candidacy for the presidency of the United States. And while we're at it, why not take a look at the Haunted Guesthouse Mystery series and a few others? You can find them here at the official campaign site. 

My platform is simple: I have no chance at all to win. Part of the problem (beyond the fact that I've never held any elected office nor sought one, and that nobody on the planet has ever heard of me, and that I am uniquely unqualified for the job) is that when asked a question, I will generally answer, and that apparently is taboo in the politics biz. I also have actual positions on issues, which I will not detail here because people get prickly about such things, but I'll tell anybody who asks exactly what they are.

Some planks in my platform:

1. Buy my books.
2. Everybody should be treated fairly.
3. Bad people shouldn't be treated as fairly as everyone else.
4. Buy my books.

Simple, understated, and yet without substance whatsover. But like I said, I have no chance of winning and don't really want the job, so it's no harm, no foul. Also, unless they move the White House to New Jersey, it's unlikely my family and I will move. My daughter goes to Rutgers, and we need those in-state tuition rates.

At every campaign stop, I will be happy to sign any copy of any of my books that anybody wishes to buy. And please, if you feel the need to donate to the campaign, go ahead and buy some books. You won't just be helping the future of our great country--you'll be contributing to the American higher education system. Believe me.

It's about time we had a president with a stronger sense of humor. I like the current guy but hey, his books don't need any help. So I'll be starting off my campaign in February--a trifle late, but publishing is a tricky game--once OLD HAUNTS (and you can read the first chapter here) is published. Date and time to be determined. 

God bless you and god bless the United States of America. (When you're running for president, you have to say that wherever you go: "Here are the keys, valet. God bless you, and god bless the United States of America").

No, These Are NOT Opinions.

Jeff Cohen

1. Best Enterprise captain? Kirk.

2. Best band? Beatles.

3. Best Bond? Connery.

4. Best director? Hitchcock.

5. Best team? Yankees (I'll allow for bias here, plus 27 championships).

6. Best Yankee? Gehrig. Seriously. Look up the numbers; they're frightening.

7. Best computer? Apple.

8. Best state? The one you live in.

9. Best religion? No such thing.

10. Best political party? Independent.

11. Best American president? Lincoln.

12. Best stand-up comedian? Cosby.

13. Best television comedy? The Dick Van Dyke Show.

14. Best writing method? Yours.

15. Best American novel? That's a stupid question.

16. Best novel ever? See previous answer.

17. Best movie? There are literally hundreds.

18. Best Beatles album? Rubber Soul.

19. Best Marx Brother? Harpo. 

20. Second best (very close to being best) Marx Brother? Groucho.

21. Best Marx Brothers movie? Any from ANIMAL CRACKERS to DUCK SOUP.

22. Best current screenwriter? Aaron Sorkin.

23. Best screenwriter ever? Bill Goldman or Ernest Lehman.

24. Best action movie? RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK.

25. Best STAR WARS movie? STAR WARS. No, there's no such thing as A NEW HOPE.

26. Best sport? Baseball.

27. Best sexual position? In favor.

28. Best actor? Bogart.

29. Best actress? Not sure there's just one. Hepburn (K.), Jean Arthur, Blythe Danner... I could go on. 

30. Best TV drama? The West Wing.

31. Best Hitchcock movie? NORTH BY NORTHWEST.

32. Best ice cream? Why, is there a bad one?

33. Best current TV show? The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

 

I'm sure no one disagrees. Right?

Well Deserved Kudos (Updated a tiny bit)

Jeff Cohen

I've got to tell you about my friend Linda.

I first met Linda six years ago, but I've known her much longer than that. So have you. 

This is not me showing off that I have a friend who is a famous person. If you look hard enough, everybody is in one way or another connected to someone who has achieved some notoriety. Imagine all those people walking around with ties to Kevin Bacon. No. This is not about that. Rather, it falls into the category of "Overdue Appreciation Expressed." 

I know it's been six years since I met Linda because it was the book AS DOG IS MY WITNESS that preciptated the meeting, and that came out six years ago. I'd decided to contact Linda to ask if she's be interested in reading the book, then in ARC form, to possibly contribute a blurb which the publisher and I could then milk for all its publicity value.

That was an uncharacteristically bold request for me at the time. I've since gotten bolder because I've discovered that those who are timid are generally well thought of when they're thought of at all, but not really all that successful in getting their agendas met. I was 48 years old at the time, and felt that waiting for an agenda was probably not the best tactic if I wanted to make a living as a novelist.

While I was a fan of her work--I owned her memoir AND SO IT GOES (which I must get autographed one of these days; thanks for reminding me), and had just bought her later memoir/food book TAKE BIG BITES, and of course knew her from her television work (including an unfairly forgotten program called OUR WORLD which deserved more viewers)--I was really moved to contact Linda because my wife, who is not easy to impress, had mentioned her name when I asked whose blurb would impress her on a book.

Linda had spent at that time 14 years as writer, producer and presenter of NICK NEWS, the only network television program bringing the news of serious issues to the most important demographic there can be--the people who will inherit the mess our generation has made of this world. It is a huge task, and one I can't imagine being done more deftly than the way Linda does it. She doesn't ever talk down to children (she says she never talks down to adults either) and she doesn't shy away from topics kids are not used to considering--HIV/AIDS, war, terrorism, discrimination.

It was fairly easy to find an email address for Linda, which told me something about her. She's not afraid to talk to people. I crafted a very careful email, told her about the book, suggested it might be amusing, and held my breath as I hit "Send".

Within an hour, there was an email. Not from an assistant or a publicist; from Linda. She had found the letter amusing, and agreed to take a look at the book. Long story not as short as I should have made it, she liked the book, bought the other two Aaron Tucker novels on her own, and sent a blurb that I still read when I'm having a bad day. Then she sent an email asking me to come visit her at her Lucky Duck Productions company office in New York.

So that's when we met. And she turned out to be charming, engaging, warm, and interested. We sat and chatted for a while before she asked, "Okay, what do you want? Everybody who comes here has something to ask about. What's yours?"

I told her: One of the things Linda had commented on in DOG was the portrayal of Aspgerger's Syndrome, a "mild" form of autism. I used that as an opening. "I'm here because there must be an episode of NICK NEWS that tells the viewers why that kid in their class acts differently from everyone else," I said.

And so, a year or so later, there was. It was done beautifully, intelligently, honestly and deftly, much as I expected it would be. I'm not alone in my admiration for that segment: It won an Emmy award in 2007. (And no, I had no hand in it at all.)

We've met only a few times since then, but we do email fairly frequently about other things. Linda is interested in how mystery writers work--turns out she loves the genre--and we talk about that. My son, who in the interest of full disclosure has Asperger's Syndrome, spent two summers interning at Lucky Duck, and gained a great deal of much-needed confidence and experience in his chosen field, as well as an associate producer credit on a show he pitched called "Webstars". 

Last Thursday, Linda was honored at the Paley Center for Media in New York City commemorating 20 years of NICK NEWS and her amazing career (she became a network journalist when that was anything but the norm for women, and did it better than most anyone before or since). She was kind enough to extend an invitation to the event to my entire family. Only my daughter, who is a very active college sophomore, couldn't make it.

It was wonderful to see her again, and an honor to be among a relatively small group of people (I'm bad at estimating crowds, so I'll venture no guess) who were invited. And she displayed a capacity to make every person there seem like THE ONE she was hoping would show up. It is a great talent, and one that is elusive and sincere at the same time. We chatted a few minutes, I reminded her that my last book had a character named after her, and she said she was taking it with her on vacation, and would read it soon. (So you're on notice, Linda!)

(It was also a treat to see my son greeted by so many of the people he'd met at Lucky Duck, who seemed genuinely happy to see him. For the parent of a young man with AS, that's a real misty-eyed kind of thing; it doesn't happen a lot.)

It was truly something to be there for the event, and has been even more to get to know this remarkable woman. I'm glad I decided to be bold six years ago. No, I haven't become a household name, but I've made a very good friend. 

That's better.

Naming Rights are Going Fast!

Jeff Cohen

I can't believe I've never thought of this before.

For years I've been a fan of the documentarian Morgan Spurlock. With an easy ingratiating charm, Spurlock has created films about the fast-food plague in America (and everywhere else) by eating nothing but McDonald's food in SuperSize Me; he's looked (obviously, before this year) for Osama bin Laden; he's created a very good docu-TV series, 30 Days, in which a person tests his or her belief system by living with someone of very opposite views, for a month. Of course, 30 Days has been cancelled. That's TV.

Last year, Spurlock made a movie about product placement in the entertainment business and financed it entirely through--you guessed it--product placement. He called it Pom Wonderful Presents the Greatest Movie Ever Sold. And the pre-mise was that by draw-ing atten-tion to the "subtle" ways in which companies get their products noticed in movies, perhaps he could best educate people to what they are seeing, even if they usually don't notice it.

At around the same time, it was reported that the New Meadowlands Stadium (a name that was destined to test truth-in-advertising laws in only a few years), the home of the New York Giants and Jets--yes, they play in New Jersey, which makes you wonder how they're the New York Giants and Jets--had sold "naming rights" to MetLife for a cool $400-million. So it gets to be the MetLife Stadium for the next 25 years (or so).

I got the point, in spades.

In fact, I did everything but smite myself in the forehead. I should have considered this years ago. If the one thing that holds a writer back is the financial end of the business--and it is--then there's one way to eliminate the unpredictability of publishing and guarantee artistic freedom and a steady income.

That's right--I'm selling the naming rights to my next book.

Now, I should be clear about this, for many legal and ethical reasons. My REAL next book, OLD HAUNTS, is already named (it's called OLD HAUNTS) and will be on a bookshelf hopefully near you in February, which isn't nearly as far off as it used to be. So start saving your pennies, all 799 of them. (That's $7.99, and only if you're paying full retail.) I'll do the math for you--if you start now, that's a little over a nickel a day. But that's not the book we're discussing here.

And no, it's not even the book I'm writing at the moment, um, along with my dear friend E.J. Copperman (oh, we're the same person--there, I said it!). That book is #4 in the Haunted Guesthouse series, to be followed by--you guessed it!--#5 in the Haunted Guesthouse series. Since those are already contracted with Berkley Prime Crime, I'm sure they'd have some say in the naming rights and--the nerve!--expect some of the money. Good luck with that.

If you or your multinational corporation is interested in having its name plastered all over the cover of a bona fide Jeff Cohen novel (and who wouldn't be?), you'll be talking about a project not yet contracted to a publisher. There are two such works currently extant, and my agent Josh Getzler will be thrilled to discuss the naming rights with you. If you don't like either of those, don't worry; I'll write more.

I have a few ethical standards (not many, but a few), so tobacco companies, weapons manufacturers and Tea Party candidates will not be considered. Wait. Maybe the Tea Party people can name the book. What the hell; by the time it comes out, the election will be over anyway.

Companies that I believe are a perfect fit (since I already use their products):Apple, Coca-Cola (Caffeine-free Diet Coke--no spokesperson yet!), Toyota, the New York Times, the New York Yankees, Disney (both Land and World), Takamine (look it up), NBC/Universal (distributors of Marx Brothers DVDs), Hershey's, Nintendo (I work out with the help of the Wii every day and have lost 30 lbs--an endorsement opportunity if ever I saw one!), and more locally, Thomas Sweets ice cream and Sonny's Bagels (those last two were two reasons I had initially gained the 30 lbs.).

But I'll discuss any company you'd like to promote on the cover of my novel. Following Spurlock's lead, if you'd like me to mention the product inside the book, we can talk about it, but that will be extra. If a character suddenly settles down behind the wheel of a Volkswagen Jetta and happens to mention the 15.5 cubic feet of cargo space, you'll know why, dear reader.

I'll be happy to appear as a spokesauthor for your product, if you like. I can drive your car (assuming you comp me out one), wear your clothes (that is, your company's; not your own--that'd be creepy), eat your ice cream, play your guitar or write my next novel on your computer, assuming you work for Apple. That Windows stuff simply doesn't make any sense.

Now, I know what you're thinking--this seems too good to be true! Authors only make a couple of bucks for each book; they're used to living on cereal (I can endorse your cereal!) and huddling around a trash-can fire for warmth. You think you can place your product on my next book for peanuts. Well, not in the new Naming Rights economy.

Consider this: I have two kids in college AT THE SAME TIME. I expect the naming company to at least cover that. So cough up. Money.

Josh will be entertaining bidders (and by that, I mean sitting eagerly by his phone; he doesn't tap dance or anything--do you, Josh?). Imagine: (Your Company's Name) Presents: A Novel by Jeff Cohen.

It doesn't get better than that. Get bidding!

Labor and Its Day

Jeff Cohen

Today is Labor Day in the United States. So let's think about labor (not the kind that ends with a baby).

Perhaps it's important for us to remember that Labor Day is not simply meant to be the "unofficial end of summer" or a day to have a cookout (where it's not raining) and a day off from work. Labor Day is meant to honor those who work for a living and also--this is important--to note the importance of those who struggled to help win the right for labor to organize.

That's right. Labor unions. Remember those?

Today's political climate is especially hostile to working people. And politicians like Our Beloved Governor Chris Christie (whose name is being whispered as a Republican presidential candidate again!) are clearly at war with unions, which they consider obstacles to economic progress and just too, you know, democratic (small "D") for comfort.

Labor unions began as a means to improve hideous working conditions for America's workers. To ban sweatshops, child labor and other lovely "traditions" that had characterized the workplace even into the early 20th century. Have some of them gotten a little out of hand? Certainly. Is there sometimes corruption within a union? Sure. Find me any organization that has none. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Does that mean we should "go after" (Our Beloved Governor's words) unions of teachers, public employees, and others? 

We are meant to honor labor and laborers today. Let's do so by defending them against hostile forces.

Putting my two penn'orth in

Lynne Patrick

Or two cents’ worth if you prefer.

Since libraries seem to be the subject du jour, I thought I’d throw my hat into the ring.

(OK, Patrick, enough with the mixed clichés. You didn’t learn those in any library.)

Life without libraries wouldn’t really be life at all. I don’t use my town’s as much as I should, or as much as I once did, but I do use it. Any attempt to close it will be met with strong opposition – and I’m getting good at that, ask anyone on the street where I live.

I can’t remember a time when one library or another didn’t play a role in my life. I joined the local public library for the first time when I was six; the official age was seven then (long, long ago – they sign babies up these days), but I escaped my mother’s clutches and went exploring while she disputed the issue with the librarian in charge, then while she filled in the form I made short work of a pile of picture books and demanded to know where they kept the big girls’ stories, so they realised they were on a loser insisting on the letter of the law.

I’d graduated to the adult library by the time I was eleven – again against the rules, but by then I’d read everything in the kids’ section except Biggles (definitely not for girls!) and the baby stuff (outgrown before I joined). And since Young Adult was a thing of the future (though not, apparently, in the US – see below), I needed access to Catherine Cookson and H E Bates.

At primary school I decided I wanted to be a librarian myself when I grew up, and at high school I took charge of junior library day when I was fifteen. I’m still not sure why I strayed from that path; a working day surrounded by books is still my idea of the right kind of working day. But when you’re at the age when you choose a career path, all kinds of influences kick in. I didn’t apply for jobs in publishing companies either; it took another ftymumble years to get there.

So what did libraries do for me?

At first they provided an escape from the real world. I was the skinny kid with glasses and a funny accent, so sometimes I needed somewhere to run from unwelcome attention in the school yard. The cool kids don’t follow you to the library.

Then they widened my horizons. Holidays abroad didn’t happen till my college days, and I didn’t visit the USA till I was in my late 30s. Cherry Ames and Kay Tracey (a precursor to Nancy Drew, and my introduction to mystery fiction) gave me a taste of a world where things weren’t at all like home (hey, showing my age or what?!).

Then came research. Essays and papers in my college years; background for fiction when I realised I was a writer. I still have pleasant memories of afternoons spent in the town library with a list of titles I needed to get the background right for a novel based in the First World War. I’m not sure which of us enjoyed those times more – me, or the librarian who hunted down every last one.

But mainly, from when I was six years old right up to last week, just losing myself in a world of someone else’s making, without running up a huge overdraft and wondering where to store all the books that won’t fit on the shelves. Or where to put more shelves...
These days, there’s the opportunity to try out new authors before parting with hard cash. I try to strike a balance between buying and borrowing; fortunately here in the UK we have something called Public Lending Right, which ensures authors get paid (though not a lot) when people borrow their books from public libraries, but I’m all too well aware that the only way to help writers keep writing is to buy them. So I try only to borrow books by unfamiliar authors, and buy all but the really hard to find titles by my favourite authors.

OK, so there’s nothing remarkable in any of that. I didn’t use the library to educate myself from the ground up; no chance of that, my mother was a teacher and achievement at school was not optional. I just used it, and still use it, the way most people do.
And the way most people want to go on using it.

Are you listening, politicians with eyes permanently on red alert for soft targets for your budget slashing?

Aaron Tucker is Back! For less than a buck!

Jeff Cohen

Okay, now that we've had an earthquake and a hurricane, let's get down to business:

Hot off the (e)-presses: The Aaron Tucker short story (and prequel to the book series) THE GUN ALSO RISES, which originally appeared in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine in the January/February issue this year (take note, Agatha nominators!) is now available as an e-book. 

You can find the story for your Kindle, for your Nook, or for any other e-reader, and if it's not available today, it will be tomorrow (some formatting issues apply). I'm pricing it cheap, at 99 cents, so anyone who wants to keep up with Aaron--or become acquainted with him--can do so without breaking the bank.

It's the first time I'm personally publishing a work for e-readers, and I'm not sure whether it's the first of many or the last of a kind. I haven't decided yet, and the publishing market might dictate later decisions. And I won't lie to you, if lots and lots of the 99-cent story sell, it will certainly influence my thought process going forward. If not, maybe not.

THE GUN ALSO RISES gives us a glimpse of a younger Aaron, father of six-year-old Ethan and two-year-old Leah, still trying to figure out why his son is acting diff-erently than the other kids, and still trying to make a living with words (Aaron's a freelance reporter). 

He starts off with a problem: Ethan has been framed for a dastardly crime--bringing a water pistol to his first-grade class--and Aaron needs to find the dirty little culprit who set up his son. But he has something else to investigate professionally: A baseball magazine has asked him to investigate the death of a minor league pitcher, who had just won the championship game and died under a pile of celebrating teammates.

Many of the series' popular characters appear, including Jeff Mahoney, Aaron's huge friend who lends him some muscle when the diminutive freelancer needs it, Anne Mignano, in this case the assistant principal of Ethan's school, and of course Aaron's beloved wife Abby, who offers him help and advice, when Aaron isn't actively lusting after her--which isn't often.

And Aaron as always narrates the story in his native New Jersey language: Sarcasm.

So if you didn't get a copy of AHMM in January or February (really November of 2010, but it says "January/February" on the cover) and you're interested in reading some more Aaron, this is your chance. Even if you don't own an e-reader, you can get Kindle for free on your Mac or PC and read it there.

Hey, it might be the beginning of a new venture. And if you like it enough, maybe Aaron will be back.

Take a look.

Smile, Mr. President!

Jeff Cohen

So far, I have no evidence that the President has seen this post. I'm shocked. I mean, it has his name in it and everything. Perhaps we need keywords.

This is not a political blog. Don't worry.

If there's one man (other than Muammar Gadaffi, who lost his country and can't even decide how to spell his own name) who really needs some cheering up these days, it must be President
Barack Obama. I mean, here's a guy who started out on such a high, good feelings, hope and, you know, change, and look how things have ended up so far. Some accomplishments, yes, but things are still a little challenging as we speak.

Imagine how he feels: The nation's (and, to be fair, the world's) economy is not exactly in great shape. Wars are being fought. A new political season is beginning, and his poll numbers (which are, at this point in time, meaningless) are not exactly sparkling. Here's a guy who truly must require a little bolstering.

And so I begrudge the President absolutely nothing in his choice of a time to go on vacation. Anybody who thinks he shouldn't take 10 days off and doesn't complain about Congress taking 30 days off simply isn't paying attention. 

But then comes this story, which chronicles the President's reading material--other than the work stuff he still has to carry around with him--during his "off days." And I have a message for Mr. Obama, which I sincerely hope he will see and take in the spirit in which it is being offered.

Mr. President: Lighten up.

Honestly. I understand that your job requires you to think deep thoughts, and that is your nature to begin with. But I got depressed just looking at the covers of the books you're reading. Not a smile in the bunch, and you're going to read them all in 10 days? That's pretty much a prescription for a cranky leader of the free world, and who benefits from that?

You see, Mr. President, I believe in the rejuvenative, therapeutic power of comedy. I think a good laugh does more for you than a ton of briefing memos (but keep reading those--I'm not suggesting you stop!) and "serious" novels. I think an amused mind is one that is more creative, more active, more useful than one burdened with problems both real--and you've got all of ours on top of yours to worry about--and fictional. 

Those fictional ones are the problems you can easily avoid. You need to do some REAL light reading, something that will lift your spirits and get you ready for the long slog ahead. 

So I am taking it upon myself to make a few modest suggestions for your vacation reading. Don't worry; it's not too late. Robin can have some of these to your Martha's Vineyard retreat in a flash. Others, well, I'm betting Bunch of Grapes has some, or can special order. You're the President. 

Suggested Reading for a Laugh or Two (Presidential Edition):

1. In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash, by Jean Shepherd. This collection of stories disguised as a novel is not only a nostalgic--but certainly not rose-colored--look at an earlier era, it's also hilarious. Shepherd could write like a dream and had total recall. If anyone asks, you can say you're reading it because the movie "A Christmas Story" was taken from one of its chapters.

2. Tilt-A-Whirl, by Chris Grabenstein. Introducing the stand-up, unassailable, absolutely perfect Officer John Ceepak and his slacker-ish but funny partner Danny Boyle, Grabenstein's first crime novel provides a strong mystery/thriller with the unmistakable New Jersey wit of its narrator. You need some more Jersey in you, Mr. President--take it from Ceepak and Danny.

3. Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Sometimes Zeppo, by Joe Adamson. I know; it's non-fiction and a professional biography at that. But Adamson writes about the Marx Brothers with such wit and in so close to the team's own style (very Groucho-influenced) that it's the fastest 443 pages you'll ever read. You can tell people you're boning up on military strategy by studying DUCK SOUP. No. Wait. Better not tell them that.

4. Flanagan's Run, by Tom McNab. Not strictly speaking a "comedy," in that it's not going for laughs, McNab's tall tale of an early-20th-Century footrace from Los Angeles to New York is a rollicking ride full of interesting characters, hairbreadth escapes, period detail and, just in case you're feeling homesick, a stop in Chicago. You won't laugh, but you'll smile. A lot.

5. Slugfest, by Rosemary Harris. Set not too far from where you are now, in Manhattan (and not the usual Connecticut setting), Harris's latest is a little more laugh-packed than her previous ones, and they weren't exactly downers, either. You can read her previous books on subsequent vacations, or on one of those nights when you inadvertantly watch Fox News and can't sleep (happens to me, too).

6. America: The Book, by Jon Stewart and the Writing Staff of the Daily Show. I know he's taken a few shots at you recently, but you have to admit, Stewart is without question the best political satirist at work today, and his "textbook" on the country is not only a dense, riotous parody, it also has some actual information you can use to wow them at cabinet meetings (the naked pictures of Supreme Court justices are probably best left unmentioned, though).

7. I could also recommend A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole, but it's not the history of the Tea Party you'd probably expect from the title, and I've never thought it was all that funny, to be honest.

Well, that ought to be enough to start with. But if you're REALLY in the need for a laugh, well, I'd be an idiot not to recommend that you click here or here. If you like the books you find there, please let everyone know. If not, well, say so, anyway. I don't mind selling books to Republicans.

Best of luck, Mr. President--Have a great vacation, and come back recharged! 

Not with a whimper

There I was, thinking August would be a quiet month when I could do some thinking, forward planning, maybe even a little writing – then famous last words syndrome kicks in and the world erupts around me.

Not just my own little world this time, either. First the Horn of Africa descends into famine, which, OK, happens every few years, but wouldn’t you think that will all the scientific advances we hear about we could have got it sorted by now? Then the US nearly goes bankrupt – sorry, guys, but that’s how it looked from out here, even though I think we knew deep down Obama wouldn’t let it happen and would find a way out somehow. Then global finance spirals into meltdown again, bringing back grey memories. Then the police in London shoot some bad guy whose name will probably be lost in the smoke and havoc of what ensued: riots, looting, arson and general mayhem in most of the UK’s big cities, out of all proportion to the spark that lit the tinder. One small mercy is that the smashers and looters seem to be ignoring bookshops. Maybe they’ve all got Kindles, quipped one observer. Nah – more likely they can’t read, quoth another. Whatever the rationale, long may it continue!

Once again real-life crime shows the fictional kind how it’s done. I suppose ‘twas ever thus, though when when you’re living through the Chinese-style interesting times it feels like all of history is revolving around what is actually only a passing moment.
A few years ago (eleven to be precise – the reason I remember that will be clear if you do the maths), I undertook a local history project which involved researching the big news stories in each decade of the 20th century, assessing which were the biggest and summing them up in a couple of paragraphs for a weekly feature. There was a lot of ‘oh, yes, I remember that!’ and ‘did that really make national headlines every day for a week?’; and not a little of ‘now, remind me what that was about again?’ and ‘my word, I’d forgotten all about that’. Distance lends perspective. And maybe a kind of misty sense of there-but-for-the-grace... After all, that’s in the past now; it can’t touch us.

I wonder if that’s one reason, apart from good stories and great characters, for reading crime fiction. (And maybe for watching the TV coverage of famine, riots and other symptoms of international breakdown.) Sitting in our own armchairs, protected by four strong walls, we can look at other people’s havoc-filled lives, real or fictional, with a kind of fascinated horror well laced with relief that we don’t actually have to go there and do that.

And once August’s over the hurricane season will be upon us. There are still reasons to be glad I live in the UK. I’ll be thinking of you, American friends.

Hell YES, I'm Angry!

Jeff Cohen

I am appalled.

June 30 saw the end of New Jersey Network, the public broadcasting entity run in part by the state of New Jersey. Some 40 years ago, someone smart decided that the Garden State, with its 8-million residents, might benefit from having television and radio stations that were not primarily concerned with our evil overlords, New York and Philadelphia. And so NJN was born, and there was a nightly newscast about--what do you know--New Jersey, among many other fine programs the ensuing four decades have brought.

On election nights, I would check in with Kent Manahan and her colleagues at NJN News for results and analysis. My pal the late Dusty McNichol was a frequent guest on some public affairs programming. The first time I saw The Road to Morocco it was on NJN. I actually own a DVD copy (which I made myself, because as far as I know a commercial one is not available) of an NJN special Jean Shepherd did for the network, "Jean Shepherd on Route One." Genius.

Enter Our Beloved Governor Chris Christie. 

Christie, with whom I agree on... let me check... nothing, decided that the budget crisis in our state was so bad that we needed to stop funding NJN. Now, I know that the budget crisis in New Jersey (and a lot of the other 49, truth be told) is pretty severe, but the total $4-million per year spent on NJN might have easily been offset--and then some, by a large margin--by increasing taxes on our millionaires, of whom we have quite a few. Not so, says Our Beloved Governor. Millionaires are "job creators." (If that's true, they've been doing a lousy job and don't deserve tax breaks.) We can't tax them. Better we should do without a presence on the public airwaves.

Of course, those who are more politically cynical than I might believe that Mr. Christie, like many in his party, believes that public broadcasting has a "liberal bias" which makes its funding unfair to people like, say, him. One tends to think that if Fox News had offered to provide a New Jersey newscast, Our Beloved Governor would have found the extra cash under the sofa cushions at Drumthwacket.

What I know is that since NJN's television signal has been effectively given to WNET (which is technically listed in Elizabeth, NJ, but is also known as Channel 13, New York's PBS station) and its radio signals to WHYY, both of which promised to include some New Jersey broadcasting (nice of 'em), all decisions on the programming we Jerseyans will get are to be made by executives in... wait for it... New York and Philadelphia.

Thanks, Chris. Nice work. As usual, you got what you wanted (and helped out a few of your wealthy pals) without actually considering what the people of your state want. Bravo.

Adding insult to injury was the fact that before NJN was officially killed off, a plea went out for donations to the station to keep things going, and I contributed. I hate to think one of Christie's pals dined out (albeit cheaply) on my dime.

Meanwhile, I'll be missing NJN, particularly its Nightly News. Somehow, reruns of Masterpiece Theater on yet another PBS station won't really fill the void.

Rest in peace, New Jersey Network. I--and a lot of other people--will miss you.

The Death of Borders

Josh Getzler

It came as little surprise yesterday that Borders announced that it was liquidating its stores and laying off all 11,000 of its workers. It’s been a company in death throes for a couple of years, and the question  was really when it was going to go, not as much if.

The press releases, and indeed much of the reportage about the cause of Borders’ decline, as been the all encompassing “because of ebooks.” And while certainly the growing market penetration of electronic distribution of books cost Borders market share, it’s not the only reason.  It also has to do with the price of real estate, and the fact that Borders decided to hitch its wagon to three forms of entertainment that would all be slammed by alternative distribution methods: Books AND video AND music. The trifecta.

Every time I went to the Borders near my parents’ home in New Jersey over the last 10 years or so, I was struck by how…empty the store seemed. There were large swaths of empty space between the three unintegrated sections of the store. It didn’t lend itself to shopping for multiple media—If I wanted a CD, I could go into the store, go to the music section, pick out my album, and go to the front and pay with a minimal need to pass a book or a DVD. On one hand, it led to an efficient purchase (when they actually had the album in stock, which was rarer and rarer). But they lost out, oftentimes, on the impulse book purchase. Now it’s not that I’m saying that they needed to put comedy DVDs next to rock CDs next to thrillers. But integrating the display tables, not the general racks, would have been useful.

But that, of course, is only part of it. As first the music industry, then the video market, became progressively more digital, both in its distribution forms with mp3’s and streaming video; and in its retail outlets, with itunes and Amazon in particular grabbing market share; the tripartite superstore became less efficient. When Borders didn’t really adjust, but rather simply made the other sections more barren while not contracting, their ultimate failure was assured. And this is where real estate came in—they simply couldn’t sell enough books to justify rent in superstores that were intended for revenue on books to only make up 1/3 of the total. And when you combine that with the fact that their in-store sales had plummeted because of the online distribution outlets (whether physical or digital), it was really over.

So what are the lessons? There will clearly be multitudes of articles about this, ranging from “forget it—first it was indies, then Borders, next it’ll be Barnes and Noble and you won’t be able to go anywhere but Target and WalMart to buy a book;” to “bookstores can survive if they play to niches—whether children’s stores, or outlets dealing with crime fiction or fantasy or romance.”

What’ll be correct? Too soon to tell. But one thing that appears certain is that the bricks-and-mortar businesses will need to integrate themselves with electronic distribution. That could mean, as some outlets are starting to do, that you can look through their books, then download right there through them onto your Kindle or iPad, with the store getting credit for the sale. Or perhaps they need to expand the “neighborhood bookstore” feel (particularly regarding children’s books) in order to drive greater foot traffic into perhaps somewhat smaller spaces. Or in fact it could mean a return to the indie model, if publishers will be willing to give smaller stores favorable rates (which could have an impact on royalties to authors, but which many authors I know would be willing to sacrifice if it meant the overall survival of bookstores). I had lunch last week with an editor at one of the biggest houses in New York, and he was saying “look, times are hard, but that’s partly because we haven’t figured it all out. We’re in an industry in flux. But it’s not a dead industry. Not as long as authors are still writing and people are still reading. We haven’t figured out how to deal with a new business paradigm that will take us more efficiently into the next 10 or 20 or 50 years. But that doesn’t mean that the world is coming to an end.”

That’s not a lot of comfort to the 11,000 laid-off Borders workers. But they’re not out of work because of publishers any more than the folks who worked for Blockbuster Video are out of work because of Warner Brothers. They are the victims of innovation, which is inexorable.

 

More Lists To Annoy You (Revised)

Jeff Cohen

A little while back, I got a new comment on my lists of best and not-best things. And since it seems at least some people are still interested in a post that went up last October, I figured I'd get the arguments started once again with a few new topics that might veer a bit from the subject of crime fiction writing in spots:

Again, these are in no particular order. #1 isn't necessarily better than #8 in any category.

Best Songs Built on a Guitar Run

1. Day Tripper
2. Up Around the Bend
3. I Feel Fine
4. Satisfaction
5. What Is Life?
6. A Hazy Shade of Winter
7. Born to Run (with obvious saxophone assist)
8. Oh, Pretty Woman
9. My Girl
10. Layla

Best Actors To Watch in Anything

1. Humphrey Bogart
2. Gene Wilder
3. Bob Hoskins
4. Cary Grant
5. Harpo Marx
6. James Stewart
7. Sidney Poitier
8. Peter O'Toole
9. Alan Arkin
10. Tom Hanks

Best Actors To Watch In Their Signature Roles

1. Alan Alda (Hawkeye Pierce)
2. Anthony Hopkins (Hannibal Lecter)
3. Harrison Ford (Indiana Jones)
4. Groucho Marx (Groucho Marx)
5. Alec Baldwin (Jack Donaghy)
6. Marty Feldman (Eye-gore)
7. Robert Vaughn (Napoleon Solo)
8. Martin Sheen (Josiah Bartlet)
9. Anthony Perkins (Norman Bates)
10. Kevin Costner (Ray Kinsella or Crash Davis)

Best Actors Not To Watch in Anything

1. Zeppo Marx
2. Stewart Granger
3. George Lazenby
4. Desi Arnaz
5. Keanu Reeves
6. Ben Affleck
7. Chris Farley
8. Leonardo di Caprio
9. Keir Dullea
10. Adam Sandler

 

Best Actresses To Watch in Anything

1. Katharine Hepburn
2. Frances de la Tour
3. Jean Arthur
4. Julie Andrews
5. Mary Louise Parker
6. Barbara Hershey (except Beaches)
7. Madeline Kahn
8. Cloris Leachman
9. Mary Tyler Moore
10. Karen Allen

 

Best Yankees I Have Seen Play Live (Go ahead--argue with THIS one!)

1. Mickey Mantle
2. Thurman Munson
3. Derek Jeter
4. Ron Guidry
5. Mariano Rivera
6. Reggie Jackson
7. Willie Randolph
8. Tino Martinez
9. Graig Nettles
10. Don Mattingly

 

English Phrases That Must Be Eliminated

1. Man up
2. But yet
3. Awesome
4. Instant classic
5. Death benefit
6. Hells yes
7. Folks (this is aimed at politicians, especially when referring to terrorists)
8. Hubby (Ask your spouse if he likes this one. But make it clear he can answer honestly.)
9. All-Star Game
10. Word (as if saying, "Yes, that is true. I agree.")

Movies That Could Be Watched Once A Week

1. Horse Feathers
2. North By Northwest
3. Galaxy Quest
4. The Stunt Man
5. Casablanca
6. A Hard Day's Night
7. Diner
8. Raiders of the Lost Ark
9. Young Frankenstein
10. The Maltese Falcon

Brilliant Comedians

1. Jon Stewart
2. Groucho Marx
3. Bill Cosby
4. Lewis Black
5. Elayne Boosler
6. Steve Martin
7. Richard Jeni
8. Robert Klein
9. Bugs Bunny
10. Mel Brooks

If It Wasn't "Weiner"...

Jeff Cohen

Anyone who thinks words don't make a difference should consider how this past week would have gone if we were now pondering the future of Rep. Anthony Malakovich. 

Yes, things still would have gone very badly this past week for our mythical Congressman, because the revelations would have still be awful and the backlash would have still been disproportionate. But think of how much harder the joke writers would have had to work. 

Words make a difference. And that's why choosing the right one can take up much of a writer's day. It's not Writer's Block (I stand firm in my belief that there is no such thing); it's a question of making a considered choice that will convey exactly the shading of meaning that one is trying to get across.

Consider: Here is a short segment from a book of mine already published. 

"'I was stupid enough to buy the Rialto and rename it Comedy Tonight, " I told him. 'I am the innovator who brought old movies back to a market flooded with DVDs. I am the genius who refuses to screen Academy Award contenders because the Academy is resolute in its failure to recognize comedy. I'm the marketing master whose theatre brought in two hundred and fifty-two patrons in a seven-day week. I have exactly one regular customer, a man with a life so full he shows up to watch old comedies seven nights a week. Exactly how much useful information do you think you'll be able to get from me?'"

It might not look like that particular passage was especially labor-intensive. Dialogue, especially, is meant to sound spontaneous and natural. If you see the choice of words as you're reading it, the writer hasn't done the job correctly. So it wouldn't be a huge stretch to think that when the words fly by unnoticed, the work is a decent accomplishment.

Consider the tone of the paragraph. The speaker is mocking himself to make a point to the listener. He uses words like "innovator" and "genius" sarcastically. Why? 1. Because he's from New Jersey, and that's what we do. 2. Because he wants the listener (in this case, a policeman he's met recently) to know that he's consciously going over the top with his words, and doesn't mean them literally. 3. Because the speech is meant to convince the listener that the speaker is not a really good witness and certainly not a criminal mastermind.

The first five sentences in the paragraph begin with the word "I" or a variation. It's not that the speaker is an egomaniac; it's a form of verbal punctuation getting to a point. Each time, the reader should hear the word emphasized just a little bit more fervently. The last sentence does not begin with the word "I" to set it off. This is where the point will be made.

The passage is meant to be read in a hurry. The speaker should sound, in the reader's mind's ear, like someone building up speed to a conclusion. If you're luxuriating over the words there, it won't work. They have to gather steam and hit a crescendo at the end. Read that paragraph slowly, savor the wordplay, and the effect is lost.

Words like "exactly" are meant to underline the emotion. "Exactly one regular customer." If "exactly" were substituted with "about" or eliminated together, the literal point would be roughly the same, but the feeling would be lost. "Exactly how much useful information" is, to be honest, a mistake. It's a repetition of the word too soon after its last use. It should have been either "So how much useful information" or "Precisely how much useful information". Either way would work.

And the italics over "seven nights a week" are there, and not somewhere else in the passage, because the emphasis the reader should hear is the equivalent of the speaker's voice rising in pitch and then taking a breath.

That's just one random paragraph. Take any one out of any book you've ever read and liked, and you'll find similar examples. 

See, the words do matter. Ask this guy.

Detroit Dog Rescue Fundraiser

What I love the most about working in publishing is the community. I enjoy the people, the conversations, and most importantly, how everyone is able to work together.

A few weeks ago, Chantelle Osman from Sirens of Suspense contacted me for ideas about a fundraiser she was trying to get off the ground. The goal was to raise money for the Detroit Dog Rescue and do it in a way that can be beneficial to authors. Here's what we came up with:

In Detroit, entire neighborhoods have been abandoned. People aren’t the only casualties of this crisis. It is estimated that over 50,000 dogs, left behind by their families, roam the streets of the city.  Animal Control euthanizes 80% of the dogs they catch.  One organization has stepped up to help: Detroit Dog Rescue. DDR is trying to build the first no-kill shelter in the city, and we’re trying to help. You can too. 

 

Starting next week, I’ll be posting photos of authors with their dog (different photos, different days) on this website. For every “like” the photo receives here and on the author’s Facebook page, the author will donate $1 to DDR.

 

Participating in the Photos:

 

Sherrill Bodine & Alice, her Newfoundland.

Alafair Burke & Duffer, her French Bulldog.

Bryan Gruley & Jake, his brother’s dog.

Gregg Hurwitz & Simba, his Rhodesian Ridgeback.

Dana Kaye & Mrs. Dalloway, her Shih Poo.

Simon Wood & Royston, his Long Haired Dachshund.

 

There will also be an auction on e-bay, with all proceeds benefitting Detroit Dog Rescue.

 

Authors Donating to the Auction:

Avery Aames - Signed copies of The Long Quiche Goodbye and Lost and Fondue, a cheese board & cheese knife.

Sherrill Bodine - Signed copies of A Black Tie Affair and Talk of the Town and a box of chocolates.

Hilary Davidson - Signed copy of The Damage Done, and a character name in her third book.

Bryan Gruley - Signed copy of The Hanging Tree.

Thomas Hollowell - Signed copy of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Barefoot Running, a t-shirt and a pair of minimalist running shoes.

Julie Hyzy - Entire set of four White House Chef mysteries, signed.

Linda O. Johnston - Signed copies of Howl Deadly and Beaglemania.

Dana Kaye - One hour publicity and social media consultation.

Kris Neri - Signed hardcover copy of Dem Bones’ Revenge, a character name in a forthcoming novel, and a first chapter critique (up to 25 double-spaced pages).

Janet Rudolph - A year subscription to Mystery Readers Journal (.pdf or hardcopy).

Kelli Stanley - A character name in an upcoming book or story.

Simon Wood - Signed copies of Accidents Waiting to Happen and Paying the Piper.

 

So, keep an eye out beginning Monday for links to the photos and auction, bid, like, and pass it along!

 

The Big Show

Josh Getzler

First day of the post-BEA, post-Memorial Day early summer, and lots going on. This week’s going to be a bit of a topic-hopper, centered around the industry’s trade show last week.

First of all, I love trade shows, conferences, conventions. Always have. I love going to big halls and seeing huge displays of products, with members of companies standing there anxiously hoping that theirs will be viewed favorably. It’s colorful, energetic (even in down years), and for my own role, kind of a one-stop shopping to have meetings (or just schmooze) with people I typically interact with over email. And I love seeing librarians walking around with bags of ARCs, looking to see whom the publishers are promoting heavily; and reporters chatting up editors in chief next to blown-up book covers; and hearing people who spend their lives thinking about the industry give their opinions about its direction. I feel giddy when I enter the Javits Center (inevitably I also feel warm, as it’s always such a long walk to get there from the subway!). I know I like it an inordinate amount; more than I should, on some level.

And it was interesting: One of my clients sent me a link to a blog that vigorously posited that the publishing industry was still treating digital rights and companies specializing in digital rights as ugly stepchildren, as the white haired old men in charge kept their heads in the sand and pretended that their business was still where it was 20 or 30 years ago. Well there are a couple of issues I need to take with that idea. The first is that many of those decision makers are now women (and have been for quite a while now); and the second is that I feel like it’s an easy shot to say that the publishers are behind, rather than saying that they are starting to think about it.

The first part of this blogger’s problem is that he felt that digital companies, whether publishers or manufacturers, were  segregated into a silicon alley, away from the traditional publishers in their own section of the floor. He failed to mention that University Presses, self-published authors, a number of children’s book publishers, and, in fact, traditional publishers themselves, were somewhat clumped together as well. It’s easier to navigate a huge trade show when it’s organized this way. But I saw his point (a bit): digital publishing IS mainstream, and ought not appear to be relegated to a corner where the Boys with Toys can play while the serious business goes on in the main areas.

Except, of course, that everyone went to the digital area. And seminars—full days of seminars—were organized about the subject. And the biggest news of the show, from what I saw and heard, came out of Amazon, where the launch of its publishing unit under Larry Kirschbaum engendered the most animated discussions of the show. Yes, there is still a wariness among literary aesthetes about electronic readers and readings, an almost reflexive, elegiac  wistfulness when looking at a gorgeous ARC of a new novel and wondering if you’re holding a relic of an already overtaken version of an industry. And I think a lot of people still feel that they shouldn’t even admit enjoying and appreciating the experience of reading digitally, that it’s disloyal to Art to appreciate progress. But a huge number of people were using their tablets to find their way around the Javits floor, or responding to tweets reminding them that, say, the new Captain Underpants ARC was being given away (I became a rock star when I brought that home), or that Duff McKagen from Guns n Roses was signing ARC’s.

Ultimately, this was a transitional BEA, almost a high school school social, where the traditional publishers and digital folk looked at each other across the gym floor and waited for someone to ask someone else to dance in public, even though they all knew they were going to be steaming up their windows together at the end of the night.

Well, THAT went far afield…

Till next week!

Hang On, Snooki. Snooki, Hang On

Jeff Cohen

There has been considerable brouhaha in my area lately over the fact that Rutgers, the state university of New Jersey (and my alma mater, where my daughter is finishing her freshman year as we speak) decided to spend $32,000 of student activity money on one program.

The program was an evening with Snooki.

Yup, Nicole Pilozzi, "star" of Jersey Shore, a "reality" TV show on MTV, best known for drinking a lot and being short, spent an evening doing two "shows" at the public university of the Garden State, talking with a comedian about... stuff, I guess.

Now, I realize that the student activity fee is technically something that I helped pay with my daughter's tuition, so in some extremely detached way, I am partially responsible for the expenditure. And yeah, I'm concerned that this is simply another PR disaster for my home state, which is generally believed by outsiders to be a toxic waste dump run by the Mafia.

But the fact is, I don't care that Snooki walked away with some of my cash (and a lot of other people's) by providing Rutgers students with a little taste of her "celebrity." (And forget that Snooki is actually from New York State, and NOT Jersey.) The poor girl's going to be in the upholstery business by the age of 30 anyway, and college students, who chose to have the program, are SUPPOSED to make stupid selections like that. I have no problem with it.

What bothers me, and I'll admit it, is that this happened after I--that is, after last week's guest blogger E.J. Copperman--wrote AN UNINVITED GHOST.

See, part of AN UNINVITED GHOST (for the uninitiated, the second in the Haunted Guesthouse Mystery series, and you really should get a copy for yourself, your mom, your friend, your cousin Bob...) deals with the invasion of Alison Kerby's home by a reality TV crew filming the second season of Down the Shore, a television program that some believe bears some passing resemblance to Jersey Shore. Naturally, I don't see the comparison, but then, I'm just the author...'s close friend.

 And boy, would a controversy revolving around a "cast member" of the fictional Down the Shore have come in handy! This one, absolutely ready made and all set to go, would have been a doozy. But no, they had to wait until right before the book (that is, AN UNINVITED GHOST, only $7.99 or less at your local bookstore and online!) was published last Tuesday. My... that is, E.J.'s luck.

Writers have to keep coming up with new plots, new scenarios, new situations for their characters to confront. So when something that ripe falls into one's lap, it's frustrating not being able to use it (you get to understand how the LAW AND ORDER guys love a good "ripped-from-the-headlines" storyline). I mean, there were so many ways to go with the Snooki-at-Rutgers-for-32-grand business.

I... E.J. write[s] murder mysteries, too. Imagine the possibilities. A cast member resented for taking a bunch of money from a public university during a politically charged budget season is found murdered. Who could be responsible? A university official whose salary has been cut? A politician trying to deflect attention from budget cuts to the school system so he can make the teacher's union look bad (gee, where could I have gotten THAT one?)? A disgruntled (that goes without saying--gruntled people don't generally commit murder) parent upset about the spending of his/her hard-earned tuition payment?

Or a fellow cast member?

Or: The reality star is the suspect when someone who has been loudly protesting her appearance for, oh, let's say $32,000 is put into jeopardy and she really needs to money for implants, or something?

The possibilities are endless. And the opportunity has passed, alas.

Of course, I... that is, E.J. is supposed to start another Haunted Guesthouse book soon. Maybe the reality TV crew from AN UNINVITED GHOST (also available on Kindle and other e-readers!) comes back, and the new star of the show is about to appear at a local college amid a storm of protest by parents, teachers, even some students...

Hang on. I need to get a pen. Um, for E.J. to jot something down. 

Mania in Manhattan

By Dana Kaye

I just returned from a fun and productive trip in New York City. Of course, of all the days I could have taken meetings with agents, editors, and publicists, I chose the week that Borders announced that they were filing chapter 11.

While many of the stores will remain open, dozens are closing and many of the distributors are refusing to ship books. Author events are being cancelled, stock is dwindling, and it’s safe to assume the remaining stores won’t be in existence much longer.

Readers may not consider the impact of Borders filing, maybe it just means fewer places to buy books. But for many authors, editors, and publicists, the impact is far greater.

Romance. Of the two big-box chains, Borders was the bigger supporter of Romance novels. They had lots of shelf space and dedicated book buyers. Barnes and Noble’s Romance section consists of one, maybe two, shelves. Without the support of Borders, Romance sales are going to take a big hit.

Independent Publishers. Right now, Borders doesn’t have the ability to pay their accounts. Publishers are not being paid for the books being sold. The bankruptcy claim will assist paying the big publishers (Random House, Harper Collins, etc.) but I suspect the independent publishers aren’t going to see anything. Borders stocked many small press titles, so not only will the small presses lose their shelf space, they’ll lose a chunk of their profits as well. 

Less Options. Readers have a choice where they shop for books, and since B&N and Borders are similar types of stores, each of the chains was in constant competition for customers. This included price wars, sale incentives, and loyalty programs. With only one major big box chain, there is less competition, and they have less incentive to keep prices down and sales up. (This happens to be great for independent bookstores and I hope that more people will patron the indies.)

Less Shelf Space. There are hundreds of books published each month, and with fewer stores able to stock books, there is less shelf space available. Stores can only order so many titles, but before, if you’re book wasn’t available in one store it would likely be available in another. B&N won’t be able to stock every book that comes out. Neither will the independents. Less shelf space means fewer titles readily available.

These are just a few of the things the Borders bankruptcy will impact. As readers and writers, how will the Borders collapse affect you?

This is the Dawning of the Age of... Ophiuchus?

Jeff Cohen

Hey, what's your sign?

Are you sure?

Turns out, all the time we were wandering around singles bars in the Seventies and using that cheesy pickup line, we were being lied to with every response, even if the responder didn't know it.

Apparently, the pull of the moon on the earth is stronger, or less strong, or something, than we originally knew, and that means that the 13-sign Zodiac calendar is now in play, replacing the 12-sign Zodiac calendar that gave us all so much comfort despite offering advice that could apply to any person in the history of civilization every day in the newspaper.

I used to be a Libra. Now, apparently, I'm a Virgo. Which opens up the tricky question: Is it better to be a virgin, or a scale?

Now, I place as much faith in astrology as I do in Tarot cards, tea leaves and fortune cookies, which is to say that I think they're very interesting diversions having no real effect on anyone's life other than those who practice the art for fun and, hopefully, profit. If you believe otherwise, more power to you. Feel free to ream me out in your comments below. I will grin sheepishly (you'll have to take me on faith with that) and nod my head. And then we can both go back to believing what we believe and get on with the day.

Personally, moon or no moon, I've decided to stay a Libra. It's a nice, balanced thing that supposedly has some bearing on creativity (a commodity I can use in whatever quantity I can get) and puts me in the same category as Groucho Marx. So if someone asks, I'll say I'm a Libra, and not a Virgo. That's my choice. 

The question then poses itself: What if I'm wrong? What if I really AM a Virgo, and whatever edge I had in creativity and balanced-ness is shot to hell? Do I need to go into some other line of work? Was everything I did up until we were told about Ophiuchus (the new sign, shoehorned in at the end of November into December), which apparently astrologists have known about for millennia and haven't bothered to mention, bogus?

Luckily, I no longer habituate singles bars--the fact is, I NEVER habituated singles bars--and so the question is unlikely to come up unless leisure suits and disco make comebacks as well, in which case the world would probably be coming rapidly to an end anyway, and what sign I am would be the least of my troubles. So I'm not going to lose a lot of sleep over whether I'm a Libra or a Virgo.

But if I sit down to write my next novel and I can't think of anything new, but instead am overcome with an urge to be practical and diligent, I'm going to sue whatever clown at the University of Minnesota got this particular ball rolling this year.

And if my wife, who used to be a Gemini and is now a Taurus, decides she's not compatible with a Virgo, I'm coming after that guy with a baseball bat.

I am Libra. Hear me weigh.

 

 

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 28 days.

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right

By Dana Kaye

For those of you who tune out all financial news, don’t have a twitter account, and don’t read any publishing blogs (except this one of course) Borders is considering buying out B&N.

Now that we’re all up to date, I know I’m not the only one who sees how ridiculous this is. Merging two struggling companies with bad business plans will not create one successful company. In fact, I see it as the end to both big chains, creating a world where indies rule all…

But that’s not what I want to talk about.

In an alternative universe where this would work, where every B&N and Borders would suddenly become Barnes & Borders or BB&N, what would that mean for authors and consumers?

The first thing that would happen is that the consumer would have fewer options, which usually leads to higher prices. Right now, B&N and Borders compete with each other. B&N has a member program, Borders has rewards, B&N has 30-40% off many new hardcovers, Borders has buy 2 get 1 free, etc. If they merged, there would be less incentive for them to keep lowering prices.

For authors, it means less distribution options. How many of your books were available at Borders, but not B&N (or vice versa)? That’s because, for whatever reason, one of the buyers wasn’t interested or didn’t see it as a bestseller. Thank goodness decisions like that don’t only fall on one person and you have other options…oh, wait…

If there is only one big-box chain, your chances for not making the cut increase dramatically. How would you feel telling people your book was only available at certain independent bookstores and on Amazon.com?

While it’s still too early to tell how this is all going to play out, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that these corporations reach a different conclusion.

What are your thoughts on this potential merger? How would it affect you as a reader? As an author?

A Simple Quiz For Aspiring Writers

Jeff Cohen

Too much of what a writer does is singular and nebulous (which sounds like a cell phone service provider, but isn't). That is, we work by ourselves, largely, and don't really have any idea if anything we write is good, bad, or just plain regular.

For aspiring writers, the problem is compounded by the fact that you've never done it before. Sure, you can show your work to your spouse (always a bad idea), your mother (good for the ego, lousy for objectivity) or your writing group (each of whom is secretly thinking that their work is better), but that won't necessarily help.

So, how do you know if you have what it takes to be a professional writer?

We at DEAD GUY are here to help. Take the following quiz, answer each question honestly--without checking the correct answers at the end--and we will give you an objective, quantifiable means of knowing if you should pursue your dream or go back to beautician school. Don't bother to thank us; it's all part of the service.

Remember: The correct answer is the one you WILL do, not the one you SHOULD do!

The Professional Writer's Aptitude Quiz

1. On your desktop you have: your editor's notes on your next book, which must be back to the publisher within a week to meet your projected publication date; the barely started manuscript of its sequel, which is due in three months; the half-written manuscript for the novel your agent wants to market as soon as possible; a proposal for a ghostwriting gig whose author is getting antsy; that screenplay you wanted to write when you were 22. The first thing you do is:

• a. Get on the revisions, because you don't want to miss the deadline;
• b. Write 2000 more words in the sequel, which is actual paying work;
• c. Go after the new novel, the ghostwriting job or the screenplay;
• d. Come up with a brilliant marketing ploy for your current book;
• e. Check your Facebook page.

2. The cover art for your upcoming novel is emailed to you, and it has lovely artwork featuring a gorgeous blonde wearing a barely there negligee while making an omelet. This worries you, since your heroine is a man who works in a bicycle shop and wears flannel shirts and jeans, and there are exactly zero eggs in the book. You:

• a. Check your Facebook page;
• b. Make a frantic call to your editor;
• c. Try to write a curvy blonde with a penchant for eggs into Chapter Three;
• d. Drive to the artist's house and throw eggs at it;
• e. Complain to friends on a Yahoo list for authors.

3. You read over your last sentence and realize you don't know the difference between your and you're. You: 

• a. Figure your editor will catch it, and do nothing;
• b. Consult seven dictionaries and Wikipedia;
• c. Ask a fourth-grade English student;
• d. Check your Facebook page;
• e. Decide you have no business working in the English language and take up lapidary.

4. You get a 1-star review from an Amazon reader. You:

• a. Write a public response detailing each and every error the reviewer made;
• b. Go into the bathroom and weep silently into a sofa cushion you bring with you;
• c. Check your Facebook page;
• d. Laugh it off as the work of a petty, envious cretin;
• e. Agree with every criticism, realize you're a terrible writer and apply to dentistry school.

5. You have a can't-miss idea for your next book, one that will rank up there with giving one's main female character a dragon tattoo. Then you discover it's already been done. You: 

• a. Go into the bathroom and weep silently into a sofa cushion you bring with you;
• b. Check your Facebook page;
• c. Write the damn book anyway, because you'll do it better;
• d. Change the dragon tattoo to a lizard tattoo, which is way different;
• e. Call your agent.

6. Your book comes out today! You:

• a. Throw yourself a huge party that costs more than your advance;
• b. Spend the entire day watching your Amazon sales rank;
• c. Check your Facebook page;
• d. Spend the entire day Googling your title;
• e. Have a cupcake and work on something else.

7. You're writing an especially difficult scene. You:

• a. Put on your iPod and blast Procol Harem;
• b. Have an entire box of cupcakes and work on nothing;
• c. Picture yourself as your main character, get scared, and hide under the covers;
• d. Go see what you have stored on TiVo;
• e. Check your Facebook page.

8. You have two book ideas. One will be satisfying artistically and the other will sell easily. You:

• a. Work on the artistic challenge because you have to be true to yourself;
• b. Work on the sure-seller, because you have to be true to your landlord;
• c. Call your agent and ask his/her advice;
• d. Check your Facebook page;
• e. Write something else entirely.

9. You just sent your manuscript to a potential agent. You set your email to check for new messages:

• a. Once a day;
• b. Once an hour;
• c. Once a month;
• d. Once a minute;
• e. Check your Facebook page.

10. Your book lands on the New York Times Extended Bestseller list! You:

• a. Call your spouse to come home from work for a "matinee";
• b. Send out an email blast to everyone in the known universe;
• c. Grouse over the word "Extended";
• d. Play it cool and wait for others to notice;
• e. Make it your Facebook status.

 

Correct answers: 1-e; 2-d; 3-e; 4-b; 5-c; 6-b; 7-a; 8-b; 9-d; 10-c.

Scores:

• 1-2: Lapidary's looking good
• 3-4: Maybe "draw this deer" on a matchbook from 1976 is more up your alley
• 5-6: Write a children's pop-up book and get a really good artist to do the pictures
• 7-8: With a few revisions...
• 9-10: Welcome to low advances and no respect! You've made it!

 

P.S. Today is Labor Day in the U.S.. It's not about backyard cookouts or the "end of summer." It's about celebrating the rights of the American worker, such as the one to organize, and the dignity of American workers who make our part of the world work. Something certain Garden State governors should reflect upon before deciding which public union to "go after" next.

 

Slightly revised: Things I Don't Care About

Jeff Cohen

1. Tiger Woods, on the golf course or off;

2. Every reality show ever produced;

3. What you need to prevail in your Facebook game;

4. Who judges on American Idol;

5. American Idol;

6. Lady Gaga;

7. Chelsea Clinton's wedding;

8. The angry flight attendant;

9. The Twilight series;

10. Romantic vampires generally;

11. Mad Men;

12. Eat, Pray, Whatever (movie OR book);

13. Crocheting;

14. Levi Johnston and/or Bristol Palin;

15. Whether or not that guy found Ansel Adams's negatives;

16. Inception and/or Avatar;

17. Watching movies on your phone;

18. The Chicago White Sox;

19. Every beauty pageant in history;

20. Who gets cast in the Stephanie Plum movie;

21. Whether or not the James Bond franchise survives;

22. Derek Jeter passing Babe Ruth on the all-time hit list (for #38?);

23. Any ice cream that doesn't have at least some chocolate in it;

24. The impending football season;

25. Al Pacino in The Merchant of Venice.

Bonus: Every sport except baseball.

What do YOU not care about? (Keep in mind, I'm not saying these are things I dislike, just that I don't care about them. Well, to be fair, there are a number of them I don't like. But not all.)