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

Take Me Out to the Thesaurus

Jeff Cohen

Abner Doubleday did not invent the game of baseball. He also did not publish books. That was Frank Doubleday.

I know; you're surprised. But on a recent trip (immediately post-storm, when refugees were leaving New Jersey to find electrical power) to Gettysburg, PA, it was revealed to me that Doubleday was in fact at the battle of Gettysburg, but his only connection to America's budding national pastime was that he tried to requisition some baseball bats and other equipment for former slaves under his command, and was denied. Apparently even that far back, African Americans were being banned from playing baseball.

This comes as no shock. I knew Doubleday was only the mythical inventor of the game, that it was a sort of bastardization of a game called Rounders from England, mixed with Cricket, or something like that. But hey, America did what it does, which is to take stuff from other places and make it our own. 

So consider the differences in the English language (particularly American English) if the game of baseball had not been invented, by Doubleday or anybody else. We would have lost the expressions:

Throw a curve ball at you;

Out of left field;

Doubleheader;

Swing for the fences;

Go for the no-hitter;

Waiting on deck;

Warming up in the bullpen;

Going, going, gone (with a possible exception for auctions);

Pinch hit for;

Take one for the team;

I could go on.

Then, there are the expressions that one hears during a baseball game and wishes would go away:

"He left his feet making that catch";

"First basemens";

"Tonight's starting lineups, brought to you by Lexus";

"Our good friends at the Fox News Channel";

What it really means when they say:

"He's struggling a little lately" (He couldn't hit a beach ball at this point);

"He had a really good swing at that one" (He missed);

"That was a great piece of hitting" (He accidentally hit one safely when he was trying to hit a home run);

"He's a veteran presence" (He's old);

"That got a piece of the catcher" (The catcher may never be able to have children now);

"The umpire has a wide strike zone tonight" (The umpire has early dinner reservations);

"The manager is getting his money's worth in this argument" (He's trying to get thrown out of the game);

"The team is in rebuilding mode" (You're lucky if they stay out of last place);

"We'll be seeing you tomorrow night" (You'll be seeing us tomorrow night, if you choose to watch).

 

Can you tell I'm going through baseball withdrawal? 

Pitchers and catchers report in 88 days.

Ruminations on CSN and Tony Gwynn

Josh Getzler

So it's 11:34 and I'm in danger of missing another week's blog day. This time it was not a Jewish holiday and not a conference and not a literary reading, but a Crosby Stills and Nash concert. I was skeptical when we bought ticket--the last time we saw them was 10 years ago, when my wife was pregnant with child #3(who got a great in utero contact high), and they were OLD. But terrific. And we left happy and satisfied that we'd gotten to see them, kind of like when we saw Tony Gwynn in the last year he played for the Padres and we'd shlepped out to Shea to see him just so we could say we saw him. But I digress.

So CSN (without Young, or Tony Gwynn for that matter) was back, at the Beacon Theater (very appropriate now, and Winchester Cathedral was perfect there, just saying), and they are now at least seven years past OLD. And they were fabulous. OK, so after nine months of touring (this is the last set of shows) Stills is finished and could barely croak out Love the One You're With. But the surprise MVP was David Crosby, who could have been MVP for being able to stand at this point. But he has a voice like an angel (still), and was thin(ner) and fit(ter), and the group wisely centered the playlist around his proggy stuff. So we got Guinevere and Winchester and Deja Vu and Stills could play guitar and all the happy fogies like us got to sit back and relax.

As we were leaving we both realized that the upshot was this: We spend so much time listening to top 40 these days because of our kids, it was nice to go to an old school rock concert with black t-shirts and guitars and Hammond organs and singers who allowed themselves to be ragged.

Of course, we're also kind of excited that next week brings us Ke$ha's new album. (Don't be a hater, now!)

 

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.” 

It's Hot Out, Mr. Kuryakin

Jeff Cohen

Under the "it's hot out" umbrella:

Believe it or not, I found a copy of the Man From U.N.C.L.E. novel I was discussing last week, on eBay of all places. It's called "The Affair of the Gentle Saboteur," and while my memory of the writing wasn't as accurate as I'd hoped, I can now quote the passages I was citing in the last post:

Page 31: (Taking place not in a cab but in a tobacco shop) "Hot," Waverly said grumpily. "Beastly hot, this town."

"Awfully hot, sir,This isn't our best season of the year in Washington, is it?"

"July--definitely not. Quite an inferno out there."

So not quite as long an exchange as I'd thought, but wait! Two pages later, Waverly DOES get into a cab, and the following action-packed exchange takes place:

"Hot," the cab driver said.

"Yes," Waverly said.

"July in Washington--but the hottest," the cab driver said.

"Hot," Waverly said, puffing contentedly.

(Do you get the feeling it was a little warm when the guy was writing this?)

I paid $8 including shipping. That's the kind of sacrifice I'll make for you, dear reader.

But that's not why I asked you here today:

A few days ago, the MLB Network (home for those of us who are obsessed with what once was our National Pastime, leading me to wonder if, say, Indonesia has a National Pastime?) aired a special in which Bob Costas spent a half hour interviewing Jerry Seinfeld specifically on the Abbott & Costello classic "Who's On First?". If you haven't seen the special, I recommend it. Costas really isn't the guy for this interview, but he's the closest MLB has. But Seinfeld is EXACTLY the guy to talk to about this. He's a comedian who really studies the craft and can talk about it for hours.

It's rare that I feel a rush of ego--life is good at reminding you that you're not that big a deal--but every once in a while when I see really intelligent comedians discussing the craft, I think, "I could hang with those guys. I can speak that language. I understand funny, and how it works." All of which might be true, but there's one big difference that bursts my ego balloon before it really gets a chance to inflate.

There ain't no way I could ever do stand-up comedy.

Keep in mind, I write funny on purpose. I see how it works when someone truly gifted has an audience in the palm of his/her hand. I get the rhythm, and I know comedy is closer to music than literature. I even have a good deal of experience speaking in front of "crowds". I have no terror of public speaking.

But I couldn't begin to write myself more than twelve seconds of material, let alone the hour or more the really big comedians have to create on a regular basis. Build a joke and then build it more and then hope that after you build it even more than that, not only will you not forget what you have to say, but that you'll say it the right way, and the audience will be in the right mood to get it (and that no dishes will be dropped during a punchline or a heckler drowning out the necessary set-up)? Um... thanks, but no. I'll be here in the audience, trying to think of something to write in a book. 

I don't think there's a job as hard as being consistently funny armed with nothing but your mind and a microphone (sometimes just your mind). I really don't. President of the United States? Look at some of the dolts who've held that position, and you have to conclude that the world might be worse off for them, but it's still spinning. Nuclear physicist? Yeah, that's tough, but you know what? Those people are really well educated in their craft. A comedian has to be self-taught. How many genius comics can you name who came out of the odd Learning Annex course on stand-up?

Geniuses of comedy like Seinfeld, Bill Cosby, Robin Williams and the current rage Louis C.K. take the gifts they're given genetically and they figure out what to do with them. And do it better than everybody else. 

I was talking recently to a friend I had not seen in quite some time, and one of the things she said was, "You should do stand-up! You're funny, and you know how to talk in front of an audience." And I hope I'm not being obnoxious in saying that's not the first time it's been said to me.

Like the other times, I shook the suggestion off, perhaps more vehemently than was expected. "I'm not nearly brave enough," I said, which is true. Because I'm sure I couldn't do it well.

So I'll stand in the back, appreciate the art and the craft, and I'll write my books. And maybe some day I'll be in a room with one or more of those great comic minds, and we'll have a good talk about how it all works. 

That's really the most I could ever hope for, and I'm fine with that.

 

By the way, today is "Buy Books For Steve" day, trying to help an author without health insurance pay for his bone marrow transplant. Please take a look here and buy something if you can, or just donate.

If Books Were Baseball Broadcasts

Jeff Cohen

She turned to face him, livid with rage. "You're a beast!" she cried. "You tried to run me over with your car!" (It was the 17th time someone had been run over with a car in a book whose title begins with the letter "M" that year.)

Don't run someone over with your car, but if you do, make it a Volvo. Volvo's crash test ratings show it's the safest vehicle on the road. So while we never recommend you hit innocent bystanders, rest assured that you'll survive the attempt if you're driving a Volvo.

"Don't be so sanctimonious," he answered. "I had to protect myself. After all, you knew that I had a history of drunk driving, and I couldn't let you walk around with that knowledge."

If you drink, drink responsibly. This message brought to you by the Coors Brewing Company of Golden, Colorado.

She raised an eyebrow, calculating. "You still can't afford it, can you?" she asked, her voice trembling only slightly.

If something were to happen to you, would your family still be financially secure? State Farm Insurance offers plans that protect your family if, for example, you have information that might make you an obstacle to a deranged killer. So talk to a State Farm agent today.

By the way, the margins in this book are brought to you by our good friends at Lexus, including the all-new 2013 RX-F Sport. Lexus. A cut above. Or something.

"No," he said flatly. "I can't." He reached into his pocket and pulled out--

It's about 15 pages until the murderer is revealed. A 15 minute phone call can help you save 15 percent or more on your car insurance with Geico.

--a cigarette case, from which he extracted two filter tips, and offered her one. "Marlboro?" he asked. (The Elias Book Bureau reports that smoking in murder mysteries has declined by 38 percent in the past two years.)

Hey, fans: Smoking doubles your risk of heart attack and stroke. Call the New York State Smoker's Quitline for information that can start you on the way to quitting for good. Call now, or we'll show you another TV commercial featuring lung surgery.

And the typeface in this book is brought to you by our good friends at Toyota. Toyota: Moving Forward.

"I don't smoke," she lied. He shrugged and lit the cigarette in his hand, then put the other back in the case. "What are you planning to do now?"

He smiled, and her blood ran cold.

Coors Light is cold filtered, so every can brings you the cold hard taste of the Rockies. Coors Light, for a cold hard blast of refreshment.

"If I told you," he said with no hint of sympathy, "that would ruin the surprise."

Are you considering flowers or lingerie as a surprise for her next birthday? What will really get you in her good favors is a Vermont Teddy Bear. The Vermont Teddy Bear company offers any number of personalized bears, and will deliver them directly to her along with a Bear-O-Gram if you choose. Vermont Teddy Bears. Because maple syrup will make her look fat.

She grabbed the letter opener on the desk and lunged toward him, intending to stab him in the heart, but he caught the movement and stopped her hand inches from his chest. Then he pushed her back, disarming her and dropping her onto the freshly vacuumed Persian rug.

This piece of action was brought to you by the new action film The Amazing Spider-man, opening Tuesday night at a theater near you.

And the acknowledgements at the end of the book are courtesy of our very good friends at the Fox News Channel. Fox News. Even we can't say "fair and balanced" with a straight face anymore.

"Don't be absurd," he told her. "That was far too crude a gesture. When I decide to deal with you, rest assured the attack will have more subtlety and the pain will go on for a long, long time."

Do you have pain that's lasted a long, long time? Chiropractic Associates of Long Island might be able to help. Call their caring staff any time, as long as it's during working hours, and make an appointment for an examination and adjustment. Chiropractic Associates of Long Island. Because we were too lazy to look up a real chiropractor who advertises during baseball games.

She was still weeping quietly when he turned on his heel and left the room.

So that ends this chapter. We'll be back with the next chapter, right after this, in the latest mystery novel you've already bought, driven by Jeep.

But first, these words from our sponsors...

London Report, part 2

Josh Getzler

So when last I wrote, I’d had two days at the London Book Fair, with another to go. And so I did, and it was terrific, and a wonderful experience. I feel like it’s a great idea for an agent—even one whose role is not to sell foreign rights—to go and take meetings in the International rights bullpen at Earl’s Court. Part of the reason is just because it’s a good idea to inhale the atmosphere—of camaraderie and commerce, professionals jacked up on caffeine extremely focused on meeting their schedules. It’s a bit like when I spent a few summers working on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. If you look from above, or on TV, it looks like chaos. But really it’s a bunch of collegial folks doing business.

So last week I said that I’d go through some of what I heard in London; what markets were wanting and hesitant to take; eager to see and backing off. Here goes (realizing that these are gross generalities, and others might have heard different):

1)      Europe’s economic struggles are clearly affecting its publishers. Spain and Eastern Europe in particular were very frank in saying that previous aggressive buying has been curtailed. I went with fifteen or so books at the front of my list; my Eastern European co-agent said that they could only see being successful with around three—two of which already had buzz and several other foreign sales; the third was Anne Tyler. With Spain it was somewhat less specific, and more sad smiles and “times are hard.”

2)      On the other hand, Brazil seems to be very healthy. Whether from not being in Europe or from having a large population with burgeoning readership, the word from Brazil was “lay it on us.”

3)       France is…unique. I have three British historical novels (my joke is that I’m looking for one novel set in every century—to date I’m good with the 11^th, 12^th, 16^th, 17^th, 19^th, 20^th and 21^st Centuries. So if you have a good thriller set around Edward III, I’m your man!). A French editor smiled, shrugged, and said “what else do you have?” She was very pleased, however, when I said that I thought the French Revolution could be the next Tudors, and was looking for a good novel set around the storming of the Bastille.

4)      Everyone wants a “tentpost thriller” with a Franchise protagonist. Yes, well…

5)      Nobody wants to see any more dystopian YA, particularly paranormal. Unless, of course, you know…it’s good. But that’s glib. It’s really that from the YA side, there’s a sense that we’re ready for a next trend, to come after the Hunger Games followers are exhausted, which came after the Twilight followers were exhausted. There was a bit of a sense it could simply be realistic fiction, a la John Green; or perhaps witches or angels or new shapeshifters. Zombies are finishing their cycle too, it would appear. The amazing thing, of course, is that it’s going to be the one incredible story, rather than any industry-wide desire for a trend, that will ultimately determine what will be the next Big Thing.

On Wednesday night, after the nice announcer lady kicked everyone out of Earl’s Court, I went to a pub and had my last supper in London, while I read a manuscript. While I was eating, I noticed that the pub was becoming more and more crowded, and the predominant color being worn by the locals was blue. I discovered that the Chelsea Football Club was playing a Champions League semifinals match against the powerful first-seeded Barcelona club, and the match was about to start. I almost stayed to watch, but knew it was going to become extremely crowded, and I was going to be leaving for the airport early the next morning. So I went back to my cupboard under the stairs, petted Scabbers, and watched while I packed. I’m a very big sports fan with a wide range of likes. I’d never watched a high-level soccer match of this type before, though. It was exhilarating. And Chelsea, which won 1-0, had precisely ONE shot on goal in 90 minutes. And I couldn’t take my eyes off it. This evening I saw on my friend Mark James’ Facebook page that Chelsea had—almost miraculously—defeated Barca again to advance to the finals. All I can say is Go Blues! And next time I’ll watch from the pub.  

 

A Few Short Takes

Josh Getzler

Today's post is short after the last couple, because I am sitting with my wife and kids, watching the NCAA Women's Basketball championship game. The eight year-old, our future scrappy point guard, is in pretty much awe of Baylor's Brittney Griner, who's 6"8 and dunks (and is brilliant). If our Ita REALLY grows, she'll be a foot shorter. But she can ball, so watch out Title IX! I mean of course she first has to conquer the NYC Yeshiva League, but we're all pretty ambitious.

But I did want to mention that I had the opportunity late this afternoon for a real Holy Cow moment. An email came in as I was about to leave the office from Jen Besser, the editor of Geoff Rodkey's brilliant Chronicles of Egg: Deadweather and Sunrise. It had a wonderful subject line: HOORAY!. There was no message, only a link: http://rickriordan.blogspot.com/2012/04/deadweather-and-sunrise-avast-ye.html . Click the link and you'll know why my beer at Ear Inn taasted particularly good.

Next week I'll be blogging from Orlando, where the family will be having seder with Mickey, Donald, and Harry and Ron and Hermione. I wonder if Butterbeer is kosher for Passover...

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.

Greenest Post Ever (Recycled!)

Jeff Cohen

Well, now that that's out of the way...

It's late December, in case you've been living away from a calendar for the past twenty-five days. And in the style of all entertainment options, I feel that this week's blog should follow a time-honored tradition.

In December--and at other times when they've run out of ideas--television programs especially will provide their viewers with what is termed "a special celebration" of the program, to reward them for being loyal viewers. Sometimes, this is also called "a retrospective." 

It's a clip show.

Eschewing "reruns," (remember, kids?) which used to be utterly reviled as cheap programming and cheating by the professionals (and are now sold on DVD and Blu-Ray so that you can program them yourself whenever you feel like it) the clip show provides "highlights" from past episodes, which are meant to recall the best of the best. It also gives the writers, actors and directors a week off. Which, in December, is something pretty much everybody should get. Just because we're about to face another winter, and anything that gives you a break before that is worthwhile.

Don't get me started on "the holiday season."

So here's the first-ever DEAD GUY clip show, which I've borrowed only from my own posts, because I'm in such a lazy mood (closing in on the end of Book #4 in the Copperman series and starting something really out of my comfort zone) that I didn't even ask any of the other DEAD GUYs for their permission. So, enjoy or... come back next week. I promise it'll be all new stuff then. After all, then it'll be 2012 and everything will be way different.

Assume that each of the following entries is in quotes. Here are my personal highlights from 2011:

Reading "said" all the time, even when it's being done by a master like Robert B. Parker, who was addicted to the word, is like being hit lightly over the head with a hammer every few seconds. It's like listening to a story being told by Sgt. Joe Friday. Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts. If I want to hear just the facts, I can tune in to  The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

 

To me, the character IS the book, no two ways around it. I write mystery novels, and I put quite a bit of work into figuring out who did what to whom and why. I look for places to include plot twists and red herrings. I can misdirect with the best of them. The top 46 of them, anyway. And yeah, you might find a joke or two going on in my pages. You'd better.

But without a character I care about, I won't even type the first word.

 

"Do you realize how hard it would be to move a whole house?" I asked my six-year-old.

Without so much as a giveaway grin, she replied, "Daddy. You call a professional."

 

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.

 

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. 

 

If people read my books and come away thinking deep thoughts about the nature of life and how it's all hopeless, complex, depressing and above all, serious, I have badly screwed up the mission with to which I have assigned myself.

 

Contrary to popular belief, most of us who are without religion are not necessarily trying to strip you of yours. Personally, I think you should believe what you believe, and I'll continue to believe what I believe. As long as you don't try to convince me otherwise, I'll do the same in return.

 

See, laughter is not an intellectual process. It's emotional and elemental. Nothing in your brain says, "Why, that's quite amusing! I believe I'll make a sound like this--ha, ha, ha!" Laughter is much more reflexive; it's like sneezing. And it is the only emotional response that actually makes you feel better. (Yes, there is a hormone released when one is feeling love, but that's not what I'm talking about.) Laughter really IS the best medicine, except when you need an antibiotic.

 

Sung to the tune of: 

I Am the Walrus

Kindle, e-book, Barnes & Noble, Sony Reader, iBook in an iPad/

Some say that all books' gooses are cooked; I disagree/

I'm smiling.

 

Books can be on paper/

Or they can be on a Nook/

Authors write for readers, not for certain formats; read me any way you like and I will shake your hand.

You are the reader/ (Whoo!)

You are the leaders/ (Whoo!)

I'm just the writer!

Goo goog a joob!

 

 

Oscars: How soon before the Academy announces a comedian will host next year? (Ed. note: Just so I have it on the record, this was posted last Feb. 28.)

 

More often than I'm asked about my books, I'm asked if I am the actor who played "the fat kid" in Goonies  because his name is... Jeff Cohen. Um, no.

 

Personally, I resent FTD, Hallmark, 800-FLOWERS and the entire chocolate industry telling me when I should feel romantic. And since, in modern America, Romance=Sex (go ahead, prove me wrong), frankly I think it's my own business. Well, and my wife's.

 

Dunstan McNichol, an extraordinary investigative reporter covering the New Jersey Statehouse for something like the last 30 years, died last week very suddenly at the age of 54. Those who care about the state of journalism in the Garden State are understandably mourning the loss as one that cripples the free press' first responsibility--keeping government accountable to the people it represents--unexpectedly and severely.

Those of us who knew Dusty are more upset at losing his insights, his wit, his talent and his compassion.

 

In one book, I had a large number of people crowd into a room that had been described, in three books running, as extremely small. And I was called on it by a reader who believed that the square footage would not hold that many human bodies. I referred the reader to the stateroom scene in A Night At The Opera. 

 

Those are the clips I've chosen from the year 2011. If you had favorites I might have overlooked, feel free. Otherwise, we'll be back next week with an ALL NEW show!

The Paradox of the Strong Female Protagonist

Josh Getzler

 

My assistant Maddie tells me that every time I tell her I'm loving a submission, she looks at it and assumes she's going to find a strong female lead. I've got a 16th-century nun, a 17th-century midwife, a post-apocalyptic 15 year-old zombie killer, an unhappily-virginal 18 year-old zombyre lover, as well as a lawyer, a slayer, a trucker, a dog trainer, a bargain hunter and an innkeeper (and I've left some out!).

 

You could get into why I like strong women so much (hello mother, wife, daughters, partners, etc), but that's not challenging. What I find interesting is something Maddie said to me this afternoon as we were discussing yet another manuscript with a strong female voice:

 

"Why is it," she said, "that so many of these girls and women, regardless of age and also regardless of competence or capability, tend to the unsympathetic?" (Note to clients reading this--it's obviously not about all the female characters we have :))

 

Hmm...now that made me think, particularly in the context of the crime and adventure novels I work on. Then she continued:

 

"And why is that not a problem with most of the male protagonists we work with?" Even better. A real gender studies question, and not manufactured, and without agenda.

 

What's it all about? Is it a question of writers trying so hard to make their female protagonists hard or strong that they make them unfriendly? Or is it that they are concentrating so hard on plotting (which is often fast-paced and frenetic in the kinds of procedurals and adventures we work on) that character development and personality might sometimes be sacrificed. And possibly because--particularly in historical novels--in order for a woman to rise above her typical place and be the kind of person who would solve crimes or take part in adventures she would need to be very strong and possibly threatening to the men who would deal with her. Are authors overcompensating, then needing to dial back some of the aggression? Are we, as readers, equating feminine strength with being unsympathetic or unpleasant, while we are more accepting of a male protagonist exuding machismo; or think of a quiet, brooding...unpleasant man as darkly sexy?

 

Ultimately it simply doesn't bother me terribly much. I like the strength of my bad-ass ladies and don't apologize for them. I understand the need for a reader to root for a heroine, but I don't like weak women any more than I like incompetent men--and I don't think you need to sacrifice strength for attractiveness. I have two daughters who love Cappie Pondexter, the shooting guard for the WNBA's New York Liberty. Cappie is hard and she's aggressive and she fights and she takes over games and runs the offense. My girls think she's awesome, and don't care that she fouls overly hard sometimes, or whines to the refs or yaps at the opponents or pouts when she doesn't get the call. She's our bad-ass heroine, and we love her.      

 

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?

Tuesdays in August

Josh Getzler

When I was working in baseball, when we would discuss our attendance projections before the season, we used to say, “Well, we know we are going to do well on Saturday nights, or fireworks nights, or games against the Mets affiliate, or Opening Day. But how are we going to do on Tuesdays in August?” That was code for “just another game,” when there wasn’t any special promotion, when it’s the middle of the week in the middle of the season, and attendance reflected the core market.

Tuesdays in August became such an ingrained part of my thought process that I ended up using it in other contexts. When I ran my synagogue for example, and we needed to plan how much food to get for the post-services reception, we had the High Attendance spread and the Tuesdays in August spread. When my wife and I would get up—even in the middle of winter—to discuss what was going on during a day that didn’t need unusual pickups or babysitting, we’d say “Eh, it’s a Tuesday in August.”

I thought of this when I got up this morning, obviously, because it is a Tuesday in August, and theoretically should be a grind-it-out, not-much-going-on kind of day. But it’s not. This whole summer hasn’t been, really. I’ve been able to start a new business, sell books of wide variety and great interest (and submit, but not yet sell, a good number more to a good number of publishers), read an enormous number of manuscripts, send two children to camp, and watch my father recover remarkably from serious illness. There is no such thing in my life any more as Tuesdays in August in the metaphorical sense.

And yet, I think I’m the happiest I’ve been in years (as long as I don’t look at things like partisan politics, my dwindling investment portfolio, print runs for non-best-sellers, and the fact that there are nightly riots in the city I’m visiting with my wife and children in two weeks). And today also marks another milestone, another non-Tuesday-in-August event: Today is the first day, as I write this later than usual at my desk in my office, that I look around our area and see the whole of Hannigan Salky Getzler Agency in one place for the first time. The Bar Exam is over for Jess, Carrie is back from her vacation and I still have time before mine, and Maddie is drinking her third cup of coffee while trying vainly to keep me organized and the HSG trains running on time. We just got logos for the company that we’re excited about, and our website is, at last, in the works. I even registered for Bouchercon, one of my favorite weeks of the year.

And tonight, I’m going with my family to see the New York Liberty (I’ll write an evangelistic post about the WNBA another time!), and it’s both breast cancer awareness night (so pink jerseys) and a night where the team is placing their former center Rebecca Lobo in their Ring of Honor. I look forward to sitting with my beer and watching the game, and wondering whether, six months ago when the marketing department was planning their promotions, they looked at the calendar at this game and said “well, we better do something fun for this one—after all, it’s a Tuesday in August…”

 

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

That's Funny?

Jeff Cohen

Let me be very clear about this: I did not go to see The Hangover Part 2 this past weekend. Mostly, I did not go because I found about 1.5 seconds of The Hangover (now Part 1, I guess) amusing.

But I don't think people who liked this particular tale of drunken men in arrested stages of adolescence are stupid. I don't. I will readily concede that comedy is without question the most subjective of art forms, and is in my opinion hard-wired into your head when you're born. There are things you're going to find funny, and things you're not, and there is no power on Earth that will ever be able to change your mind.

See, laughter is not an intellectual process. It's emotional and elemental. Nothing in your brain says, "Why, that's quite amusing! I believe I'll make a sound like this--ha, ha, ha!" Laughter is much more reflexive; it's like sneezing. And it is the only emotional response that actually makes you feel better. (Yes, there is a hormone released when one is feeling love, but that's not what I'm talking about.) Laughter really IS the best medicine, except when you need an antibiotic.

So I understand when some readers don't think what I write is funny. I disagree with them; don't get me wrong. I think what I write can be hilarious at times. That's why I sat down to write it in the first place (that, and because writing an entire novel standing up would be murder on my lower back). But if it doesn't hit you the right way, honestly, I get that. 

What strikes me is the way some people think they can convince me that I'm not funny. They (and this doesn't happen very often, but once in a while) sincerely seem to believe that they can show me the error in my ways, explain in no uncertain terms why my prose is not the lease bit amusing, and that will be it. I'll simply smite myself in the forehead and turn to more worthy pursuits like writing something that will make me want to slash my own wrists.

Here's the thing, America (and anywhere else): You can't convince me. No more than I can convince you, displaying charts, dictionary definitions and quotes from scripture, that I have written something funny. I'll continue to think of stuff I think is funny and you can read it or not. In a Democracy (and almost every other system of government), nobody is required to read my books. 

By the same token, I'm not required to write something serious. It's a win-win.

As part of my screenwriting class, I show clips to illustrate points. One of them is from a Laurel and Hardy feature called Way Out West, one of the few of their features I think is really funny (others have varying opinions). The clip includes quite some time of Stan Laurel being tickled, and laughing hysterically.

After the clip was shown, one of my students looked up, blinked, and asked, "What's with that guy with the hat?"

It's subjective.

So I don't have to go see The Hangover Part 2. 

Opinions Guaranteed To Annoy You

Jeff Cohen

In no particular order:

 

The Ten Funniest Comedies Ever Made

1. Duck Soup
2. Young Frankenstein
3. Horse Feathers
4. My Favorite Year
5. Bringing Up Baby
6. Tootsie
7. A Shot in the Dark
8. The Producers
9. Singin' in the Rain
10. Sullivan's Travels

NOT:

1. Some Like It Hot
2. There's Something About Mary
3. The Hangover
4. The Pink Panther
5. Look Who's Talking
6. A Day at the Races
7. Knocked Up
8. Dr. Strangelove
9. It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World
10. Caddyshack

The Ten Best TV Shows Ever

1. Hill Street Blues
2. The Dick Van Dyke Show
3. The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (first two seasons)
4. The West Wing (first four seasons)
5. Homicide--Life on the Street
6. Star Trek (NOT the third season)
7. NBC's Saturday Night (Live)
8. M*A*S*H (first four seasons)
9. Sesame Street
10. The Daily Show with Jon Stewart

NOT:

1. The Sopranos
2. I Love Lucy
3. Star Trek--The Next Generation
4. Law and Order
5. All in the Family
6. E.R.
7. Seinfeld
8. Lost
9. Murder, She Wrote
10. Mad Men

The Ten Best Mystery Novels Ever Written

1. Yeah, like I'm going to list those.

The Ten Most Overrated Movies Ever Made

1. Gone With the Wind
2. The Wizard of Oz
3. The Hurt Locker
4. Titanic
5. Citizen Kane (dies after its terrific first hour)
6. Lawrence of Arabia
7. Schindler's List
8. The Empire Strikes Back
9. Vertigo
10. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

(You should have seen the "Most Underrated" List I deleted because even I didn't agree with it.)

 

Unrecognized National Treasures

1. Gene Wilder
2. Jim Croce
3. Phoebe Snow
4. Laraine Newman
5. Susan Werner

Recognized, But Treasures Nonetheless

1. Jon Stewart
2. Paul Simon
3. Robert B. Parker
4. Derek Jeter
5. Carole King

Greatest Acoustic Guitar Performances

1. George Harrison--"Here Comes the Sun"
2. Maury Meuhleisen--"One Less Set Of Footsteps"
3. Paul Simon--"Peace Like A River"
4. Phoebe Snow, Jimmy Vivino--"Big Leg Blues"
5. Paul McCartney, "Blackbird"

 

Go ahead, feel free to argue. I don't even agree with them all myself.

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.)

The Flip Side

Jeff Cohen

Things I Hate That Other People Love

1. Football: I realize millions of people adore watching this simulated warfare. I just don't happen to be one of them. No, this doesn't impugn my manhood or make me un-American. It means I couldn't care less who wins a football game, and can find other things to do when it's on TV. Baseball, on the other hand, is an elegant sport that requires a whole set of skills football players don't need, and I adore it. If Baseball is a Hitchcock movie, Football is something by Michael Bay. I choose Alfred, myself. 

1a: NASCAR: They drive in a circle. Oh, boy.

2. SUVs: I've never understood the American love affair with big, ugly, gas-guzzling vehicles that are built to drive off-road and always seem to be in front of me on the New Jersey Turnpike. And I'm sorry, but the Hummer is the stupidest car ever to drive down a highway. Ever. 

3. Depressing art: Isn't it just possible that critics call something "daring" and "dark" because they're afraid they'll be wrong if they just say it's a downer? It's easy to spot a bad comedy--nobody laughs. With the more "serious" forms of entertainment, I think there's a distinct possibility that most of the stuff we're informed is bold and adult is actually just drab and awful, but there's a naked Emperor in there someplace nobody wants to annoy.

4. Rap music: You're a great musician? Write a tune and sing it. 

5. American Idol: Am I crazy, or did this used to be called "Ted Mack's Amateur Hour?" And is it not encouraging more people to trill and perform aural gymnastics instead of trying to communicate through music? 

6. In fact, all reality TV: It's just as close to "reality" as Star Trek, but Captain Kirk had better writers. What you're watching in "reality" shows is a scripted scenario usually intended to find the worst in people and splash it all over worldwide television. THAT'S entertainment! Not to mention, it seems like the only thing you have to do to be a "star" on one of these shows is show up in a bikini (mostly for women) or have more than the average allotment of children, and a desire to exploit them so you can eventually host a talk show (both genders). Someone once advised against voting since "it just encourages them." Until you stop watching, they'll think you want more of this stuff. And yes, I'm including "Dancing With the Slightly Notable."

7. The term "literary fiction": What kind of fiction (assuming it's written on paper) ISN'T literary? Does this mean that authors like Charles Dickens (who surely wrote for the masses) wasn't literary? Or that someone like Mitch Albom is? I'm a writer; I use words for a living--we need a better term, people. Get to work!

8. Political talk radio: Sports talk radio is equally stupid, but everybody KNOWS it's stupid, and it does no appreciable harm. But believe it or not, there are people out there who actually BELIEVE what Rush Limbaugh says every day, and that's not just astonishing, it's frightening as a barometer of our collective intelligence.

9. Seafood and fish: Enjoy your ocean-based dinners, fish lovers. Just don't look at me funny because I don't share your taste. Yeah, it's all kinds of good for you (as long as you stay away from the mercury), and it does wonders for your cholesterol, but you know what? I'm not eating fish. Ever. Except for the occasional tuna sandwich, which doesn't really count.

10. Christmas songs: Yes, even your favorite. There are radio stations that play nothing but Christmas songs from Thanksgiving until the first week of January. Is there any wonder there are more suicides during the holiday season than any other time of the year? And the scary part: Most of the more famous ones were written by Jewish songwriters. Go figure it out.