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

4000 Holes in Blackburn, Lancashire

Jeff Cohen

A few weeks ago, I asked not for suggestions on topics, but more in the area of feedback on categories that I post about here at DEAD GUY. I asked for said feedback to be posted at the DEAD GUY Facebook page as a clever way of steering loyal (and even disloyal) readers there, and because I do wonder sometimes what those who visit each week are hoping to see here.

What I got, of course, were suggestions for future posts, which were made here and not at the Facebook page. I truly do need to work on my clarity.

Nonetheless. Since one of the few topics suggested more than once was a look at the average day of the fairly average author (as far as I know; I rarely watch other authors during an average day and have no point of reference), I thought I would take a look at that idea today. I truly do want to give readers here what they come here to see... up to a point.

So let's see what the average day (not spent teaching, which is a whole other day) is like, shall we?

7 a.m. (or thereabouts): stumble out of bed vowing to work through the day, go downstairs and look at the overnight emails. This consists mostly of deleting spam. About 1% of the email you get overnight is relevant to your life. This practice is followed by going through a scan of the daily web sites, which includes seeing what Garry Trudeau has thought up today, how things are going in Major League Baseball, who the guest on The Daily Show might be tonight, and whether or not my daughter is available for a Facebook chat. (She comes home in 12 days, but am I counting?)

7:30 (all times approximates, just to save us the trouble): Check the bank statement to see what I've foolishly bought in the past 24 hours. Sometimes I forget. Also a quick check on Chance of a Ghost to see whether I can afford what I've bought in the past 24 hours. Of course, check in on DEAD GUY and the DEAD GUY Facebook page.

7:45: The New York Times. Yes, an actual tree-killing newspaper. Delivered to my home, every day. This is not a page-by-page read because it gets too depressing or infuriating depending on the day. Also because a full read would take me into somewhere around noon. Scan headlines, read articles that interest. Definitely check sports (during baseball season), the Arts (all the time) and the business section on Mondays (media and publishing). 

8:15: The New York Times crossword puzzle. Do not try to contact me then. And as the week goes on, the time spent on it will only increase. After finishing, check with Rex Parker to see whether he and I agree on the puzzle (we usually don't, because he is infinitely better at it than I am).

Let's say 8:45: Exercise with the Wii. This is considerably more arduous than you think, so wipe that giggle out of your mouth. I use a fairly strenuous program, especially for someone as massively uninterested in exercise as I am. Also spend this time listening to music, because listening to a computer-generated "trainer" tell you what to do is an intolerable activity for anyone with a functioning neurological system.

9:45: Shower (believe me, you want me to) and change clothes.

10:15: Respond to emails, particularly business related ones. If there's a newspaper assignment, make phone calls. If not, don't.

10:30: Rouse son from sleep. This is not time-consuming (for me).

10:31: Usually there's some teaching stuff to do, like grading papers or preparing for this week's classes. If not, think about writing. Don't write.

Noon: Lunch. Usually spent while flipping around channels to see if TCM has a really weird "classic" movie on or if MLB Network is counting down the 9 best lefthanded relievers whose names begin with an "L." (I hold out hope for Sparky Lyle.)

12:30 p.m.: Give serious consideration to a nap. More likely, watch a TED Talk. And fall asleep for 15 minutes. Not because the talk is boring; it isn't.

12:45: First time checking for mail today. Find none (the mail comes every day between 2:30 and 3 p.m., and you'd think I'd allow for that--I don't). If there are telephone interviews to do for a newspaper article, do them. (Time on this is flexible, like if the phone rings at anytime during the day.)

12:45 and 30 seconds: Read over what I wrote yesterday, decide it isn't as bad as I thought, and do a little editing. 

1:30: Look for daughter on Facebook again. This leads to Internet procrastination. When not actually trying to lose weight, it's possible a snack will be involved. If there is a newspaper deadline, write newspaper article.

3:00: Write beyond yesterday's installment. Probably not very much. Procrastination is so much easier when you think you have time. Read mail, which has arrived. Throw out 95 percent of it.

4:00: Get out guitar by way of "clearing my head." Play as long as nobody can hear me, possibly with headphones on, listening to real musicians and pretending I'm 1/30th as good as them.

5:15: Greet wife at door. Discuss dinner, Decide who will prepare it. Watch wife go out for a run, to show off that she cares more about exercise than I do (but then, who doesn't?).

6:00 Prepare dinner, unless wife has lost argument. Wife never loses argument, but sometimes wants to prepare dinner anyway.

7:00: Dinner with wife and son, unless son is working.

7:30: Watch last night's Daily Show. Laugh uproariously. Possibly check out other television or Netflix movie. If during baseball season, check in on game.

10:00: Get serious about writing 1000 words. Actually write 1000 words.

10:30: Say goodnight to wife, promise to be up in "five minutes."

11:30: Head upstairs vowing to work all the way through tomorrow. After exercising.

7:00 a.m. Repeat.

How To Escape--Or Not

Jeff Cohen

I notice I've been blogging a lot lately about respect for "light" entertainment, like the books I write but also about television and movies that aren't necessarily considered the most "important" examples of their medium.

There is a certain "middle child syndrome" that comes from growing up in New Jersey, constantly stuck between our evil overlords in New York and the cocksure wiseguys in Philadelphia (they boo their own teams there!). But this isn't simply about feeling unappreciated--I have it pretty good, myself, and I have what I think is a reasonably clear picture of the kind of thing I do. I'm fine with it.

But. There is a tendency among critics, media reporters and in some cases those in the industry to look at the supposed "light" entertainments and dismiss them as simple, empty-headed (get ready for the word of the week) "escapism." The idea is that entertainment like books, theater, film and TV (and one assumes now online things like cats on skateboards or something) help the reader, viewer, or absorber--I love it when they talk about us "consuming" entertainment; I can eat pretty prodigiously, but I don't think I could handle that--mentally break with reality and provide some way to avoid dealing with the horrors of everday life.

Let's see how many different things are wrong with that idea, shall we?

First: ALL fiction is some form of escape, in that it insists that the audience member (and that's the term we'll use for all media, okay?) suspend thinking about his/her current circumstance and pay some attention to one of the creator's design. In order for "Crime and Punishment" to work, the reader has to stop thinking about his life and start participating in the ones Dostoyevsky dreamed up. And anyone who thinks "Crime and Punishment" is "light escapism" should be kept away from sharp objects.

Beyond that, though, is the assumption that light entertainment (which is code for "anything that's not depressing or, heaven forbid, might try to be funny") is in some way secondary or inferior because it bears no resemblance to the dark, hideous truth that is human existence. 

If your view of life is that it is all misery, you should stop reading this blog immediately and seek out someone who can help you. (Or go make another movie, Woody.) And if you think that comic or "light" forms of entertainment can succeed if they don't reflect reality, you don't understand the concept of entertainment.

In order for a story, a joke, or a piece of music to be successful, it has to connect with an audience. It has to reach people, and they have to find something in it that relates to their lives. That's basic. You can write a book from the perspective of a house plant if you feel like it, but the story had better be about human emotions and human interaction, even if it's reflected in plants. Do you think "Animal Farm" is about, you know, animals?

So if Blazing Saddles makes you laugh, at least part of that laughter will be a form of recognition: "I get that because I know people who might act like that, or think that way." Sure, it's exaggerated, but don't tell me it isn't true.

Do people sometimes need a way to distract themselves from their troubles? Of course they do. Some of my favorite emails from readers have been from people who read my book in hospital rooms with desperately ill relatives or after a loved one's death. They say the book takes their mind off difficult thoughts sometimes, and thank me for that.

One of my favorite booksellers (besides you, Marilyn!) recently told me that she'd sold a copy of one of the Haunted Guesthouse books to a special customer, one who had managed to escape (not without injury) from the World Trade Center in 2001. She said her customer had been having a hard time dealing with people, but showed up for a book club meeting to discuss my book.

She said my book was the first one--almost 12 years later--this customer had read all the way through since 9/11.

Escapism? Maybe. But don't you dare tell me it's not important.

How Women Actually Put on Bras: It's Not a Mystery

Jessy Randall

Women on screens are usually shown taking their clothes off rather than putting them on, but I have a complaint about the Hollywood bra-putting-on-method. In movies and TV, women are always putting on bras using the reach-around-the-back method. Up until this week, I believed this was a completely unrealistic depiction of the actual way women put on bras. What? A lack of verisimilitude in Hollywood?

I now believe I was only half right. An informal email and Facebook poll of about sixty people who wear back-hook bras suggests that about half of us use the Hollywood method and the other half, my half, prefer to hook the hooks where we can see them, in front, and then twist the bra around. 26 responders said they use the Hollywood method; 28 use the twist-around method; 4 said it depends; and 2 use a different method altogether (they pull the already-attached bra over their heads).

When one is trying to solve an interesting mystery, one often gets interesting results. Here are some quotes from the responses:

HOLLYWOOD

"Note that I am not particularly chesty, thus the hooks are not elaborate or extensive. Also, I have fairly flexible rotator cuffs which make this an easy maneuver."

"I am sure I learned this from watching my mother, and while I'm not going to go into details, I can attest that our place further in the alphabet is not a problem here."

"Hollywood style, but I can say that I have never gotten up from my bed and wrapped the sheet around myself."

"Me neither, nor have I ever sat on the toilet going #2 for eons with the door open whilst having a pleasant chat with my girlfriends."

NON-HOLLYWOOD

"Lately I noticed I've been putting both arms through the straps simultaneously -- like I'm trying to work fast and save time! My life is too damn frantic."

"The other way is only for Bond girls. Or ninjas."

"Women put their bras on that other way in movies because we all look weird and awkward twisting it around on ourselves."

"I think that men must find it sexier if women stick their arms through and hook the back, but I’ve never known a woman dexterous enough to pull that off."

"From time to time I try hooking it in the back just to see if I can do it, but find it too hard to get three hooks into the right loops. Maybe if I only had to hook one, I'd do it, but that's a fantasy!"

"DEFINITELY hook first, spin, put arms through. Not sexy? Perhaps. Possible? Yes!"

"For those of us larger women a bit farther in the bra alphabet, the non Hollywood way would be very difficult. Mine has 4 hooks and underwire."

"Despite having very bendy arms, I do it the non-hollywood way. And it's become so automatic that front-hooking models always throw me for a loop."

IT DEPENDS

"Depends on the bra. One hook, no worries. Two hooks, might take one or two misses. The three hook ones? Forget it. It's like solving a Rubik's cube."

"Back. Except when I was nursing and needed an 'I' cup bra (I! as in 'Ice Cream!') and then needed a special construction bra made by the Army Corps of Engineers. It came with a six-step set of instructions..."

OTHER

"Verisimilitude would be a good brand name for a push-up bra."

What Michael Nesmith Teaches Us About Writing

Jeff Cohen

There's wings to the thought behind fancy;

There's wings to the thought behind play

--Michael Nesmith, "Rio"

 

Those of us who traffic in "lighter" fare are used to a certain level of condescension. After all, books that might make you laugh are rarely called "important" or included on Best of the Year lists. Even the terms associated with comedy based writing--"light," "breezy," "humorous" (ugh!) or "comfortable"--are backhanded compliments. 

But by far, my least favorite is "effortless."

Let's sum that one up: An author comes up with a story idea. That is developed into a full plot, given characters to populate it, twists to its plot and words for its people to say. It is expected to have the same depth of character, intrigue of plot, pacing, believability and level of involvement that a "serious" book would have.

Now, add laughs. Legitimate ones. Not the cheap stuff that any writer might concoct. We're talking professional comedy that is aimed at a readership that could be comprised of just about anyone. And those of us who do that hope that we're reaching you with all those elements at once.

Effortless?

Believe me, there's effort involved. 

Now. When a reviewer or other observer says that the work "reads effortlessly," or "seems effortless," I am flattered. That's the goal--comedy shouldn't show the sweat; it should feel like it's spontaneous and natural. That's a good thing.

But when "effortless" is used independently--"the comedy is effortless"--that is insulting. There was effort; the craft is in not showing it. But it should be acknowledged.

Nitpicking? Maybe I am; I do tend to get defensive about this stuff. That doesn't mean the observation isn't legitimate. Respect the effort by noting its invisibility. End of sermon.

 

I don't believe in Writer's Block. I DO believe in another ailment, however: Blogger's Block. The only time I ever spend staring at a blank screen with no idea what's coming next is on some occasions when I'm facing a posting date and I don't know what I'm going to be writing about. I don't know what regular readers of this space (on Mondays) want to see, necessarily: Personal insights? Writing tips? Humor? Recipes (don't ask for recipes!)?

So I'm asking visitors who have suggestions--and I know you have suggestions--to drop by our Facebook page and offer them. Drop us a line. Let us know what you like, what you get from DEAD GUY, what you'd like to see. I can't speak for anyone from Tuesday to Sunday, but let me know what you want to see on Monday, and I'll TRY to provide it.

Just don't expect that it'll be effortless.

More thoughts on Top of the Lake

Jessy Randall

I kind of have a crush on Elisabeth Moss's character in Top of the Lake, so I was disappointed when Robin Griffin started falling apart in the most recent episode. I wanted her to be as tough as Jodie Foster's Clarice Starling, obviously. Or Gillian Anderson's Dana Scully on The X-Files (to whom Moss bears a passing resemblance). I wondered if Moss had anything to say on the subject and started digging around. I found out three things:

1. Moss was briefly married to Fred Armisen! WHAT?!
http://thinkprogress.org/alyssa/2013/03/20/1740751/top-of-the-lake-mad-men-and-how-elisabeth-moss-embodies-female-anger/

2. She enjoyed the beer-bottle-attack scene.
http://nymag.com/arts/tv/features/elisabeth-moss-2013-4/

3. She was in Girl, Interrupted and a bunch of other things.
http://www.sundancechannel.com/series/top-of-the-lake/top-ten/top-ten-alter-egos-of-mad-men-star-elisabeth-moss

As I dug deeper, I was forcibly reminded that actors are not the characters they play. Apparently, Moss is a Scientologist. And she made fun of Fred Armisen for not being a normal person. So I guess she and I aren't getting together any time soon for a soda.

Well, I still have David Tennant's Doctor Who, Michelle Dockery's Mary Crawley, and James Marsters's Spike (my true fake love).

Top of the Lake and how good it is

Jessy Randall

Are you guys watching Top of the Lake? (Sundance, Mondays, 8 p.m. Rocky Mountain Standard Time, which is my time. 10:00 for you Easterners.) I read about it in Entertainment Weekly and thought it might be worth a try, mainly because Elisabeth Moss (of Mad Men) plays the main character. Two episodes in, it's REALLY good.

According to Troy Patterson in Slate, "Top of the Lake is a curiosity among crime dramas. It’s a mood piece posing as a detective thriller—and simultaneously deconstructing its genre like a feminist essay." Well, if you say so, and Jane Campion is certainly known for that sort of thing, but so far for me it's just a really good thriller.

I don't normally let out small screams of terror during TV programs, but when my husband and I sat down to watch this show and saw a little girl riding her bike shakily down a road, I started making whimpering sounds. Something bad is going to happen, that's clear, but what? When? To whom? I'm not sure if it's the camera work, the music, or what, but man, you know you are in for it from the get-go. What's the story behind this girl's pregnancy and disappearance? What is UP with her scary family? What terrible thing is her dad going to do next, and to whom?

I have no idea what's going to happen, but I feel like I'm in good hands -- and that's really all I ever want out of a mystery.

 

Real-world unsolved mysteries involving authors

Jessy Randall

This week I thought I'd get a little meta on y'all. Instead of talking about fictional mysteries, I'm going to talk about real-world unsolved mysteries involving authors and literature.

"Theophanes" has done a good job summarizing the three biggest mysteries in literary history: the death of Edgar Allan Poe, the disappearance and death of Ambrose Bierce, and the ten-day disappearance of Agatha Christie. Read all about those here.

In "The Unicorn and the Wasp," Doctor Who fans received a possible explanation for what happened to Christie. (It won't surprise you to hear that aliens and time travel are involved.) And, guess what, Edgar Allan Poe's death figures in two Doctor Who novels published in 2004: The Algebra of Ice and The Deadstone Memorial. That leaves Ambrose Bierce's story available, BBC writers -- you should get on that!

 

 

An eight-year-old weighs in on favorite mysteries

Jessy Randall

My daughter Celie is eight years old, just about to turn nine. Here are her answers to my questions about a mystery series she likes, Archie's Weird Mysteries, which are comic book versions of a television series of the same name. They are available as paperback books and as ebooks for the iPad and iPhone.

What do you like about these books?

I like the characters, because they are the same ones as in my favorite comic books. I also like the setting, Riverdale.

At what age did you first one of these?

8

Are they too scary for little kids? What age do you think they would be best for?

They would be good for all ages.

Do you need to read the books in order?

No.

What else would you say about these books?

You always want to read on.

 

So Your Thoughts Are Your Own, Are They?

Jeff Cohen

Inspiration is a funny thing. It is a drug, a trick, a lie, a story you tell yourself. That doesn't mean you shouldn't act on your inspiration. It means you should have no illusions about it.

Consider the concept of the Original Idea. It doesn't exist.

You want proof? I'll give you proof.

In 1989, I was a (very) struggling aspiring screenwriter. I'd written a number of screenplays, gotten a little bit of encouragement--and when I say a little bit, I mean a LITTLE bit--and was plugging away, something I'd do for another 10 years before stumbling into the mystery book writing biz, but that's another story.

I had just finished putting the finishing touches on my latest opus, a broad farce and spy spoof called CAR TROUBLE, in which a Russian translator for the State Department is unlucky enough to find a murdered person in the trunk of her car, and I'm not telling you any more. Hey, if you're that interested, the rights are (strikingly) still available.

Suffice it to say this was not a script especially grounded in gritty dark reality. And at one point, a character is thrust into that hoariest of old thriller cliches--he is being pursued by the bad guys and the police, and ends up mistaken for the guest of honor at a public function, forced in front of an audience and expected to perform.

The twist at the time was that my character had bumbled his way onto the stage of a rap concert, assumed to be the star attraction. And he knows nothing about rap music other than the basics. So he stands there speechless for a while, the band gets nervous, the DJ is staring, and eventually, SOMETHING has to happen, so it does.

He raps the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies.

Now, at the time I thought that was the very definition of an original idea. I thought I'd hit the joke right on the nose, and if nothing else worked in that script, that joke was sure to kill. I thought it was certainly proof that I could do this comedy writing thing professionally.

Perhaps it was, but not in the way I anticipated.

I gave the script to my wife, as is my habit, and she read through it and told me the usual--"it's good." That doesn't tell a writer much. But she made a point of singling out the Beverly Hillbillies rap as the best thing in the script.

And then--I swear to you--less than a week after I finished my script, and maybe a day after I'd mailed it (man, those were the old days!) to my agent, who was based in the entertainment capital of the world, Pittsburgh PA (is there any wonder I didn't become Aaron Sorkin before Aaron Sorkin did?), this was broadcast on the ABC television network.(No copyright infringement intended.)

Jessica and I looked at each other and our jaws dropped open to the point that I, at least, resembled a snake about to snack on a baby elephant. 

I have learned, since then, not to worry if someone else has an idea that might be considered similar to mine. Writing is about personality. Each writer brings his/her/its perspective to the work. That's the difference we offer. If it's strictly the plot material or the situation, trust me. It's been done before.

And if you don't think so, I will be happy to ask John Goodman to prove it to you. Oh, wait. He already has.

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.

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.

Scooby-Doo, A Review of the Literature

Jessy Randall

After last week’s post, I thought I’d see what the scholars had to say about Scooby-Doo. Strangely, I find very little academic work on the topic. (It really is strange. There are reams of books and articles and conference presentations on pop culture phenomena from Bugs Bunny to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but almost nothing on Scooby.)

Richard M. Levinson’s “From Olive Oyl to Sweet Polly Purebread: Sex Role Stereotypes and Televised Cartoons” (Journal of Popular Culture, Volume IX, Issue 3, Winter 1975, pages 561–572) may contain the first appearance of the Scoob in an academic journal. The article is a study of gender in Saturday morning cartoons of the period (the mid-1970s). Levinson makes many find points, but I suspect he didn’t actually watch any cartoons; he refers to a character named “Bella” on Scooby-Doo, describing her as a “Superbrain” (presumably he means Velma). He appreciates that the Scooby gang is “somewhat balanced” in its gender roles.

In scientific papers, I find many references to the Mars Mission of 1997, when scientists gave rocks funny names including Scooby-Doo, Casper, Zaphod, and Marvin the Martian. (See this NASA page for more information and this one for a view of all the named rocks in the Northeast quadrant.)

Megan Arnott’s paper, “Saturday Morning Medieval: Medievalisms and Children’s Television Programming,” presented May 11, 2012 at the International Congress of Medieval Studies, looks at the way Scooby-Doo and other cartoon programs have incorporated castles, knights, and other medieval tropes over the decades. This may be the only academic paper in the known universe to include the phrase “Scoobra Kadoobra,” the title of a 1985 episode involving a warlock.

Liz Laidlaw’s “In Defense of Scooby-Doo” (Relational Child & Youth Care Practice, Vol. 22, Issue 3, Fall 2009, pages 42-43) ruminates on what children learn from cartoons. In her opinion, the more recent series What’s New, Scooby-Doo “makes an effort to be a little more politically correct and switch up the stale stereotypes.” Nevertheless, she says, “no matter what happens in the beginning, I know exactly how it will end. The monster will be revealed as the angry janitor, rival hotel owner, grumpy steam boat captain or adversarial skate-board champion, uttering the words: ‘I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those meddling kids.’”

This makes me think how awesome it would be if someone on the show – probably Velma – would say, in a new episode, “You know, every other time we’ve investigated a monster, ghost, or other supernatural being, it has turned out not to exist, so, Shaggy and Scooby, how about if you operate on that premise instead of running in place while funny music plays,” which is a good metaphor for this whole series, actually.

Scooby-Doo, What the Hell Is Wrong With You

Jessy Randall

I watched re-runs of Scooby-Doo in the 1980s. Who hasn't seen that show? I mean, if you were a kid in the 1970s or later, you are familiar with that show. Now my children watch the program, and sometimes I watch with them. This week, for example, we watched Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated Season 1, Episode 4, “Revenge of the Man Crab” (first aired August 9, 2010).

WTF, people. Scooby-Doo is no longer just a mystery show where villains would have gotten away with it if not for those meddling kids. It is now also an instructional program for heteronormativity. Boys and girls can learn from Scooby-Doo that girls only care about boys and romance, and boys don’t care about romance because they have their minds on other things, like solving mysteries.

Remember how, in the original show, it was usually Velma who figured stuff out and solved mysteries despite Shaggy and Scooby being obsessed with Scooby snacks? Well, now, instead, Velma is obsessed with Shaggy. In "Man Crab," Velma can’t seem to think or talk about anything but Shaggy. She sulks when he doesn’t respond to her advances. She looks different than the old Velma, too: her breasts are bigger, or maybe her sweater is just tighter. She also has a bow in her short hair – in case you weren’t sure if she was a girl or not. (I know these pictures don't look THAT different, but in the program you'd notice a change.)

Daphne’s main concern in "Man Crab" is whether or not Fred capital-L Likes her. When girls in bikinis play volleyball, the show calls our attention to the sexual side of things: Daphne thinks Fred is ogling the girls, so she puts on her own bikini to get his attention. She then, of course, has to spend a good chunk of the episode in the bikini. She’s wearing it when the Man Crab captures her and puts her in a hanging cage. (The Man Crab is only interested in females, by the way. After all, it's a man. Um ... and a crab.)

Thanks, Scooby-Doo, for going BACKWARD as far as sexism is concerned. If you’d just stayed the same, I could still plan to name my imaginary girl band The Velmas. But now I don’t want to any more. The Man Crab episode has made me crabby. (But at least it didn't give me crabs.) Scooby-Doo plots have always been repetitive, but now we also have dull, repetitive fake intrigue about ... romantic relationships? Really?

Luckily, Scooby fans still have their imaginations. When TV feeds us sexism and gender norms, we don’t swallow them whole. If you Google around you can find multiple interpretations of the Scooby gang, including a lesbian Velma and a gay Fred and, I’m sure, additional romantic combinations and crossovers, like Fred and George Weasley hitting on Daphne. So I will not despair: no matter how much heteronormative bullshit TV throws at us, at any age, we still remain our own whatevernormative selves and form our own diverse Scooby gangs of friendship and romance.

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--

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--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.

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Interview Answers, Self-promotion, and a Sappy Love Letter

Jeff Cohen

A couple of weeks ago, in a post about interviewing, I invited readers to post their own questions to me about interviewing, and promised to answer them. We got a few, and this is a good time to address them, so let's begin, shall we?

Robin Minnick asked: Okay, Jeff, you said you don't like to lob softball questions, and I agree, those are boring to answer. You've interviewed several celebrated people. What question, or perhaps type of question, do you consider the hardest for you to ask an interviewee? What question is either difficult to get past your lips or has you fretting about the answer in advance? 

Good question (or questions), Robin. I don't like to ask personal questions; when I pitch an interview to a publication, it is generally of a person whose work I admire and respect, and the interview will be about the work. When I interviewed Phoebe Snow, for example, I wanted to talk about music. The magazine I was writing for (which I ended up suing for other reasons) wanted me to ask about her life. I was not comfortable asking about her daughter, who was born with a severe brain injury, and when I started to say, "I wish I didn't have to ask this," the late Ms. Snow replied gently, "Just say, fine."

Cindy Smith asked: You say you don't like to ask the ho-hum typical questions when doing an interview, but do you have a favorite question that you always ask because you figure it will generate an interesting answer?

I've already sort of addressed this in comments to you, Cindy, but let me elaborate. No, I don't have one question I'll always ask, because I think the interview should be specific to the subject. I can't think of two people I'd interview whose questions would be exactly the same. But having said that, I do have a few that I'll ask of more than one person if I think it applies to their work. For example, I like to finish an interview by asking, "What do you know now that you wish you'd known then?" I've gotten some interesting answers, and if I could remember one, I'd tell it to you.

Elaine Charton asked: Is there anything you absolutely refuse to ask in an interview?

Again, Elaine, I try to stay away from personal questions, because I don't think they're relevant and I don't find them interesting. But when the publication that's paying me insists on some things being covered, I'll cover those things. I don't remember ever flat-out refusing to ask a question, but that's because I don't remember being asked to use a question I found absolutely inappropriate or offensive. 

After I mentioned that the favorite interview for which I was the subject was conducted by famed journalist Linda Ellerbee, Donald A. Coffin asked: What did she do that leads you to list her as the best interviewer you've encountered? Was it her prepared questions? Her ability to follow-up on your answers? Some combination of things that are difficult to disentangle?

First, I was flattered Linda accepted the invitation to conduct the interview. But I found her questions to be insightful, she had obviously read my books, which is a refreshing change of pace, and her questions were about process but were also fun and interesting to the reader. They were not so "inside baseball" that someone who wasn't a crime fiction writer wouldn't care. She had obviously put thought into the interview, and that was what made it a good experience. Another really good interviewer who talked to me was David Skibbins, a fellow author and life coach, and we did a half-hour telephone interview that was a ton of fun. 

Brenda asked: Is there anything on your bucket list that (a) your readers can't imagine that you'd care to share or (b) that you are anxious to share?

My bucket list? I'm not sure I have one, but one thing is to have a novel published outside the crime fiction category, just to see if I can. Working on that. Something my readers (both of them) can't imagine I'd care to share? Read on to the bottom of this post.

ROCCO asked: What made you decide to switch gears and go from a trilogy about a guy who ran a 'comedy-only' theatre to writing about a woman who owns a Jersey Shore home? Did your love of classic movies (ala TOPPER) figure into it, or were other factors involved?

Thanks for asking, Rocco. I was persuaded to "switch gears" when my publisher informed me that Elliot Freed's services at the comedy movie theater Comedy Tonight would no longer be desired, and then asked if I'd like to do something else, using a name other than the one on my birth certificate. I was glad they asked, and from that came the Haunted Guesthouse series, and yes, the TOPPER films and TV show were an inspiration. 

Any more questions? It's an easy post for me, and maybe a chance for you to hone your interview skills...?

 

P.S. I'll be at the Malice Domestic conference this coming weekend, and on the panel "Dirty Little Secrets: An Inside Look at the Writer’s Life” with Laura Bradford (Elizabeth Lynn Casey), Kate Gallison, Robin Hathaway and Toni L.P. Kelner. Sunday April 29 at 9:45. PLEASE drop on by, and if you see me roaming the halls, walk up and say hello--it's why we authors show up! (That, and the free tote bag.)

P.P.S. There is a woman out there (or in here, depending on how you look at it) who is among the most understanding and patient on the planet, who has inspired pretty much every novel I've ever written and maybe a few more things, who never fails to get my jokes, even if she doesn't find them funny all the time, and who once was in fact, an interview subject for this blog. And when Thursday comes around this week--the very day before I will hop into a car and drive to Bethesda for Malice Domestic--she and I will be married for exactly 25 years. I don't believe in miracles, but that comes close.

Happy anniversary, honey. Let's hope 25 years is just the warm-up.

Female Dog. That's It.

Jeff Cohen

It absolutely cracks me up that (at least this week) ABC is airing a sitcom called "Don't Trust the B____ in Apt. 23." (That's the real name; I'm not censoring it.) I only saw a minute of the show, and it wasn't funny, but the title is hilarious.

Words have never offended me. I can't think of a word that's been used in my presence that, strictly based on its existence, has bothered me. I understand that other people consider certain words "bad," but I don't get that. George Carlin said, "There are no bad words. There are bad thoughts," but then, we can't get upset about what someone is thinking until they say it, and the words take the brunt of our displeasure.

Sure, I get that some people don't like to hear some words. They've been taught all their lives that these are offensive things, that the people who use them are trying to insult them, and that anyone who stoops to "such language" has run out of more sophisticated ways of expressing the thought involved.

I don't buy into that. There are words--chiefly ethnic slurs--that are considered acceptable within the group and violently incendiary outside of it. It's the same word. Context creates insult. In that case, it's the thought and not the word, isn't it?

When a neighbor of mine--long ago, before we moved to this town--took a look at my infant daughter in my arms and suggested that "she really has a Hebe face, doesn't she?", I wasn't offended by the word; I was horrified by the thought being expressed. And I asked him if he understood why there was, in fact, a For Sale sign in front of my house. He didn't. We left a few months later.

So the little TV show about the "B" in Apt. 23, I'll admit, simultaneously amuses and baffles me. Because I'll be damned if I can figure out how the expression "bitch" became a curse word.

It's a female dog. That's what the word means. And yet, say it out loud in front of many people, and they will look as if you've suggested they are of a sexual deviance so lurid and perverse that to identify oneself in such a way would be to have committed a crime against society. All you've done is compare a woman, presumably, to a female dog.

Try it with a man: "You dog, you." "He's a real hound." "He follows her around like a Golden Retriever." Where's the offense? It might not be the most complimentary term imaginable, but a vulgarity? Hardly. My dog doesn't mind when we call him a dog. Of course, he has no idea what the heck we're talking about, but even if he did, I don't think it would bother him much.

So what is the big deal with "bitch"? The fact that it's a female dog? That's it? Nobody seems to have a problem with it during the Westminster Dog Show every year.

Try calling a woman a "ewe," or a "doe," or a "filly." Probably not going to endear you to them, but it won't get your face slapped. It doesn't add up. "Bitch" isn't even a four-letter word, and we've clearly decided that is the requisite number of letters for a really offensive word. Call someone "reprehensible" or "contemptible," and nobody blinks. Why? Too many letters. (Also, there's a decent possibility they don't know what you mean.)

The same network has another show--which I have been assiduously avoiding in the sincere hope I will never have to spend a minute thinking about it--called "GCB." That used to stand for "Good Christian Bitches," which apparently was the title of the book upon which the series was based. And once again, ABC (perhaps noting that it already has the letter "B" in its name) chickened out and created an acronym that absolutely no one recognized. When the show was being promoted before its premiere, I assumed the letters stood for "George Carver Bridge," and that it was about a span named after the world's most famous peanut scientist.

We assign, sometimes, too much responsibility to individual words. Perhaps it's time to consider the thoughts behind them and let people--in the interest of free speech--use any word that fits the thought. Then we'll know what people really think.

Assuming that's something we actually want to know.

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...

Adapt Or Die

Jeff Cohen

It's my  half-birthday! Which is... totally meaningless. Forget I said anything.

A LONG time ago, I remember seeing a cartoon: People are seated in a large movie theater (remember those?), the lights are out, and the screen is filled with a black-and-white image of a large fancy party. People stand around in dress clothes, wait staff walk through with trays of canopes and champagne. In the foreground, someone is holding another tray, with a large book open to a page in its midsection. A woman in the audience leans over to whisper to the man next to her:

"It follows the book rather closely."

Reading Marilyn's post on Saturday, I was struck by a few things about the task of adapting a work from another medium to film or television. It's something I teach my screenwriting students about on a regular basis (more on that in a later post), and the one thing you can be sure of when you take on such an assignment is: Somebody's going to hate you for it.

Not, I should point out, that I've ever actually adapted someone else's material. I've had enough trouble adapting my own work. But I've read enough of it and done enough of it that I know what the dangers are. The fact is, those who worship the book will hate the movie if you change so much as a detail. Those who are indifferent or unfamiliar with the book will picket your house if you keep in extraneous material or quote large sections of the text, especially if it is done in voice-over narration.

Casting is beyond control of the writer, but people will blame you for that anyway. Marilyn said she'll have trouble with Tom Cruise as Lee Child's iconic Jack Reacher. Many share this opinion, although some are less thoughtful than Marilyn and simply grouse about Cruise being short. This, without anyone having seen as much as a foot of exposed film. Similar ire is being aimed at the casting of Debbie Reynolds as Janet Evanovich's Grandma Masur, which seems to be based on the opinion that as Hollywood's official Old Lady, Betty White should have had the part by acclimation. Forget that she was 89 at the time of shooting, and they were hoping to set up a film franchise that so far has sustained 19 books.

(Never mind, also, that Dashiell Hammett described Sam Spade as tall and blonde, and yet nobody seems to have a problem with Humphrey Bogart's portrayal, despite his being not so much on both accounts.)

But forget casting. The writer is responsible for the material that is handed to the director, who will ignore whatever s/he wants to and create a film. That's the director's job.

So if you're hoping to adapt a book, play or series of educational filmstrips into a movie on the big or almost-as-big screen, block out any idea of pleasing the masses. Simply follow the steps below:

1. Read the material you're adapting carefully and pay attention what makes you respond. If you write it well enough, the film will encourage others to respond similarly. If you lose sight of what you like about the original work--and you'll have plenty of opportunity to do so during the adaptation process--you're cooked.

2. Give up any allegiance you have to the original writer(s). If they were good at screenwriting, they'd be doing this themselves. You're here to write a movie, not a translated book.

3. Include the things that make this a good movie and only those. The subtext of the book was fine, but you'd need seventeen hours of film time to show them all, and you don't have that unless you work for the BBC and everybody wears way too much clothing. Cut down to the plotline. You're lucky if you can fit all that in.

4. You can make stuff up that's not in the book if it clarifies the plot or gives the audience a better read on the characters. You're creative; it's what you're supposed to do.

5. People who want the book will still have the book. They can read it whenever they want. People who go to the movie or watch on TV have only what you give them. Make it the best version of the story in a visual, moving medium. That's the job.

6. If you are successful at your task, some people who see your version will then go on to read the original book. They will find things that they didn't know existed in the story, and note that there are differences between the two. Some will be pleased. Others will be upset that the book is not the same as the movie, and will consider the screen version superior. They will be upset with the author of the original book for not sticking to the story that didn't exist when the book was written. There's no pleasing some people. 

If you're an audience member, keep this in mind: This is a movie. It's not the book. If you loved the book and want to see it translated exactly, don't go to the movie. Read the book again. There will be differences and they'll annoy you. Avoid annoyance when you can. Life is short.

Why Not Be Both?

Jeff Cohen

Are you a series, or a standalone?

What the hell, I can steal from the Mac/PC commercials. I'm shameless.

I just finished writing my first standalone book. For the uninitiated, a standalone is a book whose entire story is told in one volume, as opposed to a series, which has a new story in every book but whose characters will "recur," meaning they show up every time with something else to do.

In short, a standalone is a feature film, and a series is, well, a television series.

Think of how it works: In a feature film, the characters are all new (except for sequels, which now account for about 104% of all movies), the situations immediate and generally extreme. I tell my screenwriting students that they should be telling the story of the most important thing that's ever happened in their characters' lives. Because if there's something more important, why aren't they telling that one?

On a TV series, it would be entertainment suicide to tell the most important story in the first episode. Do that, and what reason does anyone have to tune in next week? The story here is a  much longer, more episodic, being, a thing that will take (hopefully) a very long time to tell in a tremendously huge number of installments. The story really becomes the journey, then, and those who are loyal to the series will see payoffs in a late episode that might come from seeds planted very early on. Keep reading, Haunted Guesthouse fans!

For example, throughout the three books in the Double Feature series (remember that, both of you who read it?), I made jokes about how small Elliot Freed's office was, and I did so because I knew that at some point--as it turned out, in the third and final book--I would want to include a scene in which the size of Elliot's office was the whole point. Readers who started with book one (which included a reference to book two so obscure I think my editor and I were the only ones who got it) would be rewarded in book three by the small-office scene. But it was important that new readers wouldn't feel like they didn't know what was going on.

A standalone, however, raises the stakes. Anything can happen, no future book is guaranteed, so the ending is The Ending. The reader might have a tiny bit more suspense reading a standalone because the characters won't have to recur, if you catch my drift (and if you don't, I recommend more drift practice after school). 

So there are pleasures, for the writer and one hopes the reader, in both. A standalone heightens the tension but a series provides a somewhat deeper experience for the character's development. Someone who is an irritant in book one might be a trusted ally by the time book four rolls around. You never know.

The standalone was an eye-opening experience for me. Even books I've written that haven't sold (yet) had until now been considered part of a series; I had future installments in mind while writing them and was deciding on recurring characters, threads that could be picked up later, and possible plot strands that could color the first book without even being mentioned, but would show up in later volumes so the reader would go, "Oh! So THAT'S what all that was about!"

In a standalone, there's none of that. The story is about this one incident in the character's life, and it can have all the implications I want, because there will be no sequel. Unless, of course, the book-buying public insists on one. I wouldn't want to disappoint my readers, after all.

It is also said that standalones appeal to men, while series are more popular with women. Personally, I find that an appalling generalization, but then, I know as much about marketing as the next guy, assuming the next guy doesn't know much about marketing. So perhaps writing a standalone for me was a baldfaced appeal to get more male readers. Although women have faces that are generally more bald than men, so perhaps not.

Writing a standalone was in some ways liberating as a writer--as I mentioned here last week, it was emotionally difficult because it was more intense. But I'm not at all interested in giving up series writing; I do love to see characters in new and different situations to find out how they'll react. So returning to characters I know is... I wouldn't say comforting, because it's never comfortable to write a book. But it is a way to test myself, see how much I really know about these people I made up, and find out whether readers will go with them in a new direction with each installment.

The next book I write will be #5 in the Haunted Guesthouse series, and after the standalone, it will be something of a relief to get back to Alison and her merry band. But I bet after that, I'll have the itch to write a one-and-out again. There's an exhilaration that goes with it that might just become addictive.

But first, we have to find someone to publish the one I just wrote. Stay tuned!

The Writer's Rollercoaster

Jeff Cohen

What about those Academy Awards, huh? Could you believe she won? I mean, that last thing was sure a surprise, wasn't it?

Okay, I admit it; I'm writing this before the Academy Awards airs, in fact a whole day before. I'm guessing Billy Crystal was funny and classy, the middle 90 minutes were tedious, Whitney Houston got the biggest ovation in the Memorium crawl, and The Artist won best picture (I promise I won't change that if I'm wrong). But I honestly have no idea.

Addition after Academy Awards: I had no idea when I wrote "Could you believe she won?" that Ms. Streep of the Jersey roots would take home her third over Viola Davis et al. Go figure. And there was NO applause during the Memorium crawl--you got the feeling the audience had been asked to refrain. All in all, I thought it was a pretty good Oscar show. Could have used more Chris Rock, less Ben Stiller, and Billy Crystal, while miles above last year's fiasco, looked annoyed a lot of the time. Hope he'll be back next year, though. I will.

But that's not what we'll be talking about this week. (Aside to Josh G: Don't read the rest of this post. You'll understand why when you read it.)

My wife and I went out to dinner with friends a couple of weeks ago, and I'm sure everyone was wondering why I was in such a bad mood. There was no question about it; I was grumpy. Yes, more than usual. (Very funny, wiseguy.) I didn't talk much, I wasn't trying very hard to be amusing, and when the evening was over, I just sort of shook hands, got back in the car and left.

I wasn't trying to be antisocial, but I was going through a difficult moment emotionally, one that writers have and rational people don't. I had left the character in the book I was writing in a very unsettling situation, one that was absolutely agonizing for him, and I was feeling the effects.

This is not an isolated incident, although it doesn't happen with every book. Quite some time ago when my children were small, my parents and my brother treated us to an anniversary gift: a long weekend in Bermuda. It was incredibly generous of them and we had a very lovely time. 

But I remember leaving Newark that Friday morning in a funk: I was writing a screenplay and my character and his son were in an extremely precarious position I had not been able to resolve before we left. I won't say I was grouchy the whole time we were in Bermuda, but it took me a little while to shake it.

Writers go through an emotional roller coaster when we're working. To do the job right, we have to really experience--mentally--the situations we write. For me, it's more a sense of tension when things (in the story) are going badly for the main character, even when I know how I'm going to resolve it. Once I get to the ending, there's a relaxed sensation, a satisfaction that comes and stays. Until I start the next story.

This past opus, the one I just finished (which is not part of any series and doesn't feature any character you might have read from me before) was a tough one. It's scary to start anything new, particularly in an area you haven't explored before--it's not a mystery at all--and the character I was writing had to go through some really harrowing life moments, ones that caused him a lot of grief.

It was a difficult couple of months, and I don't think anyone--not even Jessica--realized it. The draft is now done and if it is what I believe it to be, anyone who ever reads it will not imagine for one second that the author was a complete lunatic while writing it. 

Now, I'll be on tenterhooks until someone reads the damn thing and tells me if it's any good. And I don't want it to be an obligation (I'm serious about that; I don't--that's why I told you not to read this, Josh!), so I'm waiting patiently.

Except for the grumpiness. But nobody will notice that.

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.

Some more random thoughts about television and books

Dale Spindel

    I just finished watching season 2 of Justified, the FX television series based on Elmore Leonard's short story, "Fire in the Hole,"  before sitting down to write this and I've suddenly come to realize what has probably been obvious to almost everybody else - that there is a definite affinity between literary and television series.   First and foremost is that each is character driven; to be successful, there must be a strongly compelling central character who is surrounded by supporting characters whose quirks and eccentricities provide additional strokes of color and interest to the story.  For the series to be successful, there must also be a specific setting, be it geographic, occupational or a combination of the two.   Think Minneapolis and the newsroom for Mary Richards, Sherlock Holmes and Baker Street,   and Miami and vice for well, you know.  ( By the way, for those of you who, like me, had only a lukewarm response to season 1 of Justified, all I can say is that season 2 was exponentially better and I can't wait to start watching season 3 which just premiered this week.)

    Now that I have gotten this all figured out, I'm mystified that Janet Evanovich chose to opt for a feature film  rather than go the premium cable  series route for her Stephanie Plum books.  A good cable series can run for six or seven years but movie sequels are rarely successful after parts 2 or 3 and very often take significant nosedives in quality after that  - Rocky 5, anyone?

    Which leads me to the subject of the Jersey Shore (no, it's not what you think this time), a certain beach side guest house, and a couple of ghosts.   Yes, I decided to read Night of the Living Deed, the first  in a  series of three "Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries" written by E.J. Copperman, a writer who is not totally unfamiliar with the goings on at Dead Guy.   If I am not mistaken, by naming one the main character Alison Kerby, E.J.'s intent was to pay homage to  Topper, a series of three classic movies spanning the years 1937-1941 and followed, not coincidently, by a television series which originally ran from 1953-1957 but which had an extended life in reruns for several years after that.   It was during Topper's  non prime time rerun years that I became acquainted with the show; I had forgotten how much I had enjoyed it as a kid, even though there were so many aspects of the show that I was  really too young to understand.

    But back to Night of the Living Deed.  Alison Kerby, the proprietor of the soon to open guesthouse in the fictional NJ shore town of Harbor Haven certainly qualifies as a sympathetic character around which to base a series.  In the aftermath of her divorce from her ex-husband (usually referred to only as "The Swine"), Alison is counting on the operation of the guest house to bring financial stability - if not security -  for herself and her nine year old daughter Melissa.   Other characters include a couple of  Alison's friends, an attractively single elementary school history teacher, a couple of obnoxious realtors and Paul and Maxie (short for Maxine), a couple of ghosts who inhabit the guest house and who enlist Alison's help in trying to find out who killed them and why.  Although I have not yet read the next two books in the Haunted Guesthouse series, I can see that the door has  perhaps been left open for the intriguing possibility of a human/ghost romantic attraction which has the potential to be great fun.

        As a Jersey native, I do have some quibbles with E. J. regarding the affordability  of even a rundown piece of beachfront property for a person in Alison's circumstances; I also found an act of extreme altruisim that comes late in the story  to be almost reckless given the circumstances of the donor.   Other than that, Night of the Living Deed proves that it is possible for an author to provide a fun reading experience without having to rely on either snark or double entendres of the "wink wink" variety. 

        Also, kudos to E.J. for this example of what I refer to as "cross writing" - that is writing from the perspecitve of the gender of which the author is not a member.

        Finally, it occurs to me that Haunted Guesthouse would be a great foundation on which to base a television series - are you listening HBO?

 

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!

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!

It's All Bill Cosby's Fault

Jeff Cohen

When I was 10 years old, I discovered Bill Cosby.

Don't take me wrong--Cosby had been discovered a good number of years before that, and was already quite a successful comedian and actor. But the year I turned 10, I stumbled across a TV special he'd done and immediately became devoted to his comedy, particularly his album To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With, which absolutely changed my perceptions in any number of different ways.

I don't think I'd ever listened to a standup comedy album before. My parents had some Allan Sherman albums, and I loved them, but they were song parodies, and not just a man talking. This opened my eyes (actually, my ears) to comedy possibilities.

And it wasn't long before my mother would have to remind me every once in a while, "I don't mind if you listen to those Bill Cosby records" (they had by this time multiplied in my collection), "but stop talking like him!"

That was my problem. The rhythms of Cosby's storytelling, his timing, his choice of words--all those things were so ingrained in my head that I would unconsciously pick them up and use them in my own conversation. I wasn't so much a sponge as a mirror. If it worked for him, it would work for me. And to some extent it did; I would actually recite Cosby records at parties for my friends and match him inflection for inflection. I couldn't think of the stuff myself, but I sure could mimic it. Catch me on a good day even now and I can give you a decent approximation of "Chicken Heart" or "$75 Car."

This has recurred a few times in my life. When my wife and I would watch Mad About You early in our marriage, it would take me a half hour or so to stop talking like Paul Reiser afterward. Today, my daughter is a huge West Wing fan, so we watch quite a bit of it (thank you, inventor of DVDs!) when she's home. And the Aaron Sorkin dialogue is hard to leave alone. That man can write dialogue, and those actors sure could deliver it. It's a trial not to walk and talk when I'm taking the dog out after a few viewings.

I won't even discuss what happened when I started watching the Marx Brothers.

People ask me which mystery authors I read. And I lie most of the time, and name people I know or people I like. I do read a few, but I won't tell you which ones. And most of them, I honestly don't read. At least, not when I writing something, which I am almost all the time. 

I can't be sure I won't accidentally appropriate something. Not a storyline or a character, but a style, a rhythm. I read biographies, histories, non-fiction; that I can do. I'll read anything that doesn't bear even a slight resemblance to what I'm working on, which is generally a mystery book with laughs.

And I've had readers and other authors tell me not to worry: "You have your own voice," they say. "You won't steal something." Of course I won't. Stealing is intentional; I'd rather quit the business than appropriate something from another writer who thought of it first. What I'm talking about is subconscious. It's something that I wouldn't know I was doing, and possibly wouldn't recognize even after reading the work over again. 

I don't want to risk it. It's not an experience I ever want to have.

But if Bill Cosby ever writes a mystery novel, I'm going to be in a ton of trouble.

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.

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

Just Say No to a "Wire" Re-up

Sharon Wheeler

Filling in for Dale Spindel

I adored The Wire. Every single minute of it. But a plea this week from the US attorney general brought me out in a cold sweat.

Eric Holder wants the writers to come up with more episodes or a film. His request got fairly short shrift from David Simon – and quite right too. You can't improve on perfection.

Sadly, a lot of shows (or books or bands for that matter) hang on well past their sell-by date, or attempt unfortunate comebacks. I was scarred for life by being dragged to a Sham 69 gig at Wolverhampton Wulfrun Hall some years back. Old punks never die – they just squeeze themselves into inappropriately tight jeans and whine a lot at the audience. Oh, and Sham 69 were bollocks in the first place!

Taggart has finally been buried, though. For those of you on the other side of the Pond who may have missed this particular Scottish delight, all you need to know is that DCI Jim "there's been a mrrrrdr" Taggart died 17 years ago. In fact, the show ran for longer without him that it did with him. The show was memorable for keeping the Scottish members of Equity, the actors' union, gainfully employed, and for having the most impenetrable plots ever. You could guarantee you'd sit through two hours of it and not have the foggiest what had happened, except that a lot of blood and guts would be involved and that Taggart and his later replacements would be exceedingly morose and grumpy.

And you thought Morse would come to an end once actor John Thaw had died? Not exactly … Some bright spark at ITV came up with the idea of a spin-off for loyal sidekick Lewis, the man who looks more like an accountant for a north eastern council than an Oxford copper. They've paired him with the constipated-looking DS Hathaway, who has an Enigmatic Past. Whatever, two hours of them trolling round Oxford and dealing with snotty university dons and snippy students, and you lose the will to live.

Maybe the home-grown cop shows just aren't hip any more. Rufus Sewell smouldered beautifully in the BBC adaptation of Michael Dibdin's Aurelio Zen books. That and the Italian setting didn't save him from the chop, though, after just three shows.

The real McCoy European crime drama is the new black, though. Denmark's The Killing, complete with enviable sweaters, picked up a cult following in the UK, as has gritty French cop show Spiral, now into its third series. And it's wall to wall Henning Mankell on BBC4, with Kenneth Branagh staring moodily into the middle distance ("Trees! Snow! Angst!) Better by far, though, is the Swedish TV version with the wonderfully rumped Krister Henriksson as Wallander ("More trees! Deeper snow! Angstier angst!")

Now please excuse me. I lapped up The Wire box set. I now have The Killing one waiting for me …

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. 

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. 

Just wondering...

Jeff Cohen

1. Does Charlie Sheen have ANY idea how crazy he is?

2. When a TV show advertises an "all-new" episode, does that mean some of them are only PARTIALLY new?

3. What about the scenes at the beginning when they say "previously on..."? THOSE aren't new!

4. Oscars: How soon before the Academy announces a comedian will host next year?

5. By the way, Randy Newman: They didn't need more song nominations--they needed LESS! Maybe none!

6. It's a good thing they expanded to 10 best movie noms, because that way I got to see 3 of them.

7. I'm not saying which three.

8. I know I'm old--the biggest thrills for me last night were seeing Billy Crystal and Kirk Douglas.

9. No Jack Nicholson. No Robert DeNiro. No Dustin Hoffman. No Susan Sarandon. No Clint Eastwood.

10. Just a bunch of adolescents with spiky hair. I TOLD you I was old!

Odds, Bodkins, and Even Odder Bodkins

Jeff Cohen

I've figured out how to fix the economy, and it can't possibly fail: Let's turn the financial stewardship of the country over to the people who run the New York Yankees. Think about it: Every year they spend money like drunken sailors, and still manage to make a profit so huge they can continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Isn't that the kind of leadership we need?

A word of warning: Don't expect coherency this week. That said, let's on, shall we?

What's a bodkin, and what makes them so odd? (Hint: the picture to the right is of a bodkin.)

Okay, here's the deal, people: Whether you think the country went to Hell in a handbasket in 2008 or the beginning of this month, the fact of the matter is that there will probably still be a United States of America in four years or so. Will it be perfect? Of course not. Could it be better? Hell yeah. But is the end coming? Not anytime soon. Cool your jets.

When I see reviews of a book or a movie that uses the word "devastating" or the word "shattering," I wonder what those critics think we look for in entertainment. "Let's go out tonight, honey--I understand this movie will completely shatter me emotionally and leave me a devastated wreck." "Sounds great; I'll get my purse!"

Bill Maher, whose opinions I share more often than not but whose persona leaves me somewhat cold, called out Jon Stewart for not being biased enough at the Rally to Restore Sanity. That's sort of like Dr. Sanjay Gupta complaining that Gregory House is unfairly cold to his patients. It wasn't a real political rally, Bill!

People ask me if I prefer they buy my books on paper or in e-book form. If you want to read my book, I don't care if you buy it as a series of adorable samplers. Just buy the book!

I'm cranky because it's no longer baseball season. I'm 53 years old and the lack of the Yankees on my TV screen every night unnerves me. Can therapy help ?

I have a story in the current issue of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine (it's called THE GUN ALSO RISES, and starts on page 130, but hey, no pressure). Now, I'm aware that Alfred has been dead for quite some time now, and that he never really had much to do with the magazine even while still breathing, but having my work in anything with his name on it is a kick. I have been a Hitch fan since I was about 11 years old.

Is it ominous that reading my own writing makes me sleepy?

I practice regularly and try very hard. I enjoy the experience and I have improved. But the fact remains that I could take lessons and work day and night at my playing for the next 20 years, and I would end up as a decent amateur guitarist who can't just make the instrument make whatever sound is in my head. I remind myself of this whenever I read writing by people who do something else for a living because that other thing is what they're good at.

I'll get rid of my landline when they make a cell phone that sounds as clear and is as reliable as a landline. Or when they stop making landlines.

Every year my family goes to a movie and for Chinese food on Christmas day. The jockeying for choice of movie usually starts around Labor Day. This year, nobody's so much as suggested a title yet. Uh-oh.

By the way, on a holiday note: Chanukah starts on DECEMBER FIRST? Whose idea was THAT?

And when Santa Claus starts showing up in TV commercials before the end of the World Series, something has gone seriously wrong in this world. I realize I'm on the outside looking in, but Christians, you need to scale back. Having a 12-month holiday season would not be a healthy thing.

On the topic of baseball, this is the time of year when free agents are being wooed. They will tell you it's not about the money. It's about the money. They will tell you they have to consult their families. It's about the money. They will tell you it's always been their dream to play for this franchise. It's about the money.

They will take the money, and then some of them will be truly awful no matter what they're paid. But it was about the money.

And just to clarify--if publishers were waving tens, in some cases hundreds of millions of dollars in my face to write a book, I will tell you directly--it would be about the money. Yes, it would. And I'd be happy to cash the check.

I'm done with The Office. It's become a show about people who are serially unpleasant to each other for no discernible reason. Enough. I've just freed up 22 minutes of my week.

You should take a look at The Good Men Project Magazine. Not only is it a terrific idea that sends its revenues to excellent causes, they let me write for them on occasion, as well.

I'm writing two books at the same time, and I've never done that with two novels before. One's a spec book, so naturally I'm closer to finishing that one. And it's always exciting when you're coming in for a landing. Hopefully I'll be able to do that twice in the next six weeks.

Pitchers and catchers report in 91 days.

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.)

Welcome to Orientation

Jeff Cohen

Welcome! So you've entered the publishing process and now, things look a little scary. You've heard about agents who have tiny hearts, editors who only buy one book a century, bookstores that won't buy anything without the name "Patterson" on the front cover, and cover art with unnecessary cats. So maybe you're a little overwhelmed as you enter the business for the first time.

We know it's hard to do, but relax. Things aren't as difficult as they seem. They're worse than that, but you have talent, you have determination, and you have something nobody would have predicted before--a support group of other authors who, instead of viewing you as the competition, will try to help you through the rough spots. 

Here's your orientation check list. Pay careful attention to it, and make sure you don't take the points out of order. Check each one before moving on to the next. And above all, good luck! Because you're gonna need it.

Orientation Checklist

1. Don't write a lousy book. Oh yes, we know you've turned very cliche on its ear, punctured every expectation, and written the most original book since the King James Bible. But first of all, no you haven't, and second, it had better be readable, too. 
2. Show it to people who don't love you already. Your mom thinks everything you do is terrific; she's still bragging about your fingerpainting skills from kindergarten. You think you're going to get objective criticism from your spouse? Who might want to, you know, keep living with you? Find readers who know you, but won't care about dashing your hopes and pointing out the rough spots. Friends don't let friends write bad.
3. Don't believe what you've heard about agents. They like reading good books, and will champion good books. If you think agents are mean to you, maybe you have to go back to Step #1.
4. Talk to your editor. Don't write 350 pages of something and then have the editor who bought it based on a 50-page proposal tell you that it's not what you'd agreed up. Maybe you don't need to send out 50-page chunks for perusal (the editor probably doesn't have that kind of time anyway), but at least keep in touch.
5. You're not perfect. You will receive criticism and edits from your editor (you'll recall "edit" is part of the job title). They're not always right, but they often are. Get over yourself. Sometimes, things need fixing.
6. Don't always do the easy thing. Yeah, you can fix problems with one word or one sentence--but is that the best way to do it? Sometimes it is... and sometimes it's not. Be objective in deciding which this is.
7. If you have a great premise, remember that sometime soon, you'll be stuck in the middle. And whether there are clowns to the left and you and jokers to the right, you still have to get through it. Plan ahead. That doesn't mean you have to outline every last plot point until you're blue in the pencil. It means you have to have at least an exit strategy. Know where you want to go, and then see if you end up there.
8. You don't have to do EVERYTHING your editor says, either. Sometimes, you'll find that you like your original idea just fine, and you don't see the problem. Yes, be open to suggestion. Yes, put in the work when there's a real problem. But if you think the way you wrote it the first time really does work the best, stand up for your work.
9. Have a cover suggestion ready. If you don't, you can't really complain when the artist comes up with something, you know, else. When you're asked, don't say, "Oh, I don't know. That's not my area of expertise." Think ahead.
10. Help other authors when they need it, if they ask or not. At least offer. This is a good fraternity/sorority. Don't screw it up by being selfish.

All right, you're on your way--now get out there and conquer the publishing world!

By the way: If you REALLY want the final update on the LP-(and singles)-to-Digital Conversion Project, click here. The list is complete, until I add more.

R.I.P. Kim Malo

We at DEAD GUY mourn the passing of our friend and colleague Kim Malo, who died early this week at her home near Boston, MA. You'll be hearing more from us about Kim in coming days, but for now, suffice it to say she will be sorely missed.

Rest in peace, Kim. 

Catch This Phrase, Buddy!

Jeff Cohen

Stephen King wrote a column for Entertainment Weekly magazine (remember magazines?) a while back in which he divided the world into two kinds of families: Those that employ catch phrases from popular culture, and those that don't.

My family definitely falls into the former category. So I think Mr. King would find us passable, or something. (Steve, if you're out there reading this, first of all, hi! But also, feel free to drop on by sometime and we'll swap catch phrases.)

A good catch phrase is one that serves two purposes, at least: 1. It helps to clarify a current situation through a reference to a fictional one everyone involved will remember; and 2. It creates unity among those who "get" the reference, thereby bonding them together (and, better, excluding those who don't). That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.

Here are a few of my family's catch phrases:

1. When one of us believes another has, perhaps, gone a little heavy on the salt or something at dinner: "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?" 
2. When a situation takes a turn in an unfavorable direction: "Could be worse. Could be raining."
3. When we're planning a family activity (even an errand we have to see to together): "We're not going there. We just put it 'round we're going there."
4. When some detail of the day needs to be coordinated: "I have a plan. A very famous plan."
5. When someone uses the phrase, "Whatever it is," it is necessary in my family to respond, "I'm against it."
6. I don't think there's a family left in America that can ask the question, "Is it safe?" without employing a German accent.
7. By the same token, words like "bump," "room," and "solved" are all to be said with a bad French accent.
8. When pointing out something incredibly obvious: "What hump?"
9. When a bon mot falls flat: "It's a joke!" (Bad Scottish accent necessary)
10. When someone orders a BLT at the diner: "You can't! There's Jews here!"
11. When getting a little agitated: "I'm hysterical! I'm wet and I'm hysterical!" This can be followed by "I'm in pain, and I'm still hysterical," if the situation is really grim.
12. When being asked to do something you don't usually do: "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a (fill in the profession)!"
13. When disappointed: "You make me sad. Come, Patsy!"
14. When in need of a hug: "Firm embrace!" (This is best said with a slight Brooklyn accent.)
15. And of course, whenever sitting in a swivel chair and turning to face someone: "So, Meestah Bond..." (Best when pretending to stroke a cat.)

What are some of your catch phrases?

1. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid 
2. Young Frankenstein
3. Help!
4. Help! 
5. Horse Feathers (We are all Marx Brothers fans, and I could have added six or seven more from the freres, including "Atsa fine," "Get tough," "Upstart!" "Chevalier, eh?" and "              ", which quotes Harpo.)
6. Marathon Man. Duh!
7. The Pink Panther series
8. Young Frankenstein, again. I could have added "Behind ze bookcase," "werewolf--there wolf!," or a horse whinny, but I was exhibiting restraint
9. The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson (whose Scottish accent is anything but bad)
10. My Favorite Year
11. The Producers (1968)
12. Star Trek (another candidate: "You canna change the laws of physics!" and in this case the Scottish accent really does have to be bad)
13. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
14. A specific reference to Mel Brooks's appearances on Mad About You as Uncle Phil
15. I won't insult your intelligence.

The LP-to-Digital Conversion Project is over. Probably. I still have to check with my brother and my mother to make sure I didn't leave any stragglers with them when I moved out of the house 30 years ago. But if you want to see a list of all the albums now converted to CD in my collection, click here.While there, feel free to hit "follow" and find out when there's a new post. Next week, I'll post all the singles already converted.

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.