2 Heads: Not Necessarily Better

Armistace Day, Armistace Day/That's all I really wanted to say--Paul Simon

The very gracious Becke Martin Davis was kind enough to invite me to be the featured author at the Barnes & Noble mystery forum on Facebook the last week in October. And Becke, being the incredibly efficient and thorough person she is, recreated a piece I posted here a few years ago that dealt with my uncomfortable feelings about using a pseudonym, how I'd always assumed that authors who did so were somehow broadcasting their lack of pride in their work by using a name other than their own on the front cover.

I have had four years and seven titles--and counting--to reconsider those thoughts, and I'm here to tell you, E.J. Copperman is a dear friend of mine today.

Sure, there have been times that it bothered me my own name wasn't proudly listed on the Haunted Guesthouse mysteries (like THE THRILL OF THE HAUNT, which published last week), and there have been times when someone at a conference will call "E.J.," and I'll have to remember that's me. But those are minor things compared to what having E.J. Copperman as a friend, an inspiration and best of all, a dodge for bookseller computer algorithms has meant to me.

But in a weird way (as if there were another), I've started to think of E.J. as a separate person.

Those of you who know me should not be alarmed to the point of intervention; I don't mean that I'm ever unaware E.J. is not a physical, walking aorund human being. Far from it. But E.J. has sort of taken on the status of a fictional character in my head, someone I might be writing about if I weren't writing books by that person.

If you know what I mean.

I can tell you what E.J. will do in any situation, what E.J. likes and dislikes, probably how E.J. voted in the last election (although we don't discuss such things out of politeness). I can certainly tell you how E.J. writes, and while we are similar, it's not exactly the same thing.

I'm usually looking for the joke. I'm the writer who wants there to be a laugh in every sentence and will continue to look for one until it's found. I'm a little less focused on the mechanics of the story, leading to problems with timelines and motivations. I forget who characters are. I lead up to great revelations and then forget to explain them later on. (Keep in mind, this is all in the first draft, before the miraculous Shannon Jamieson Vazquez gets to point me back in a reasonable direction.)

E.J. is more foucsed. There is a stronger sense of delicacy, a juggling of characters and plot that I don't usually maintain, although I always aim for it. E.J.--and I don't believe this is simply because the narrator is female--is more concerned with keeping everyone comfortable (except Alison Kerby) and catering to the needs of the story. The asides in the narration are more to-the-point, less looking for a cheap (or expensive, for that matter) laugh.

Writing with E.J., as with the coming Samuel Hoenig Asperger's series, is different than writing by myself. E.J. won't let me make sorry puns or stray off the story to get a laugh. E.J. makes sure that Samuel, who tells the story himself, doesn't become a wiseguy; it's not in his nature. He's working much harder at "pretending to be normal" (there is a book with that title on the subject, and I didn't write it) and is not confident enough in his own humor to try for laughs. He's most often trying not to be noticed unless he's discovered something that can be useful.

Much of that comes from E.J., who is watching the story. I'm there for some character stuff and to make sure the chapters have snappy endings, to drive things forward and keep the pacing tight. E.J. handles the rest.

It's an odd partnership, since we're both in the same head. But hey, one head is better than two, right?

Sorry. That was me. Not E.J.E.J. would say something more sensible, but still sharp, like, "Get your head in the game. Preferably Jeopardy!"

Welcome, pal. Sit down. Let's write something.

U.S. readers: Today is Veteran's Day. It is, as one might infer, the day we set aside (can you set aside a day?) to honor those who have served the country in the military, but I prefer to think of it as a day we deplore the idea of warfare altogether and hope that someday as a species we will outgrow it. Still, those who have served deserve our respect, and I humbly offer that. Also: Today differs from Memorial Day in that we are not spending our time remembering those who have died in service to the country, but those who served and came back. My hat is off to all in both those categories, if I wore a hat. All I ask is that we please manage to refrain from playing any Kate Smith recordings today. Veterans deserve something with a little more "oomph." Suggestion: Click here. (With apologies to our Japanese friends.)