Jun 172013
 

Jeff Cohen

Oh, relax. This post isn't about religion.

Having spent the past few weeks revising and then re-revising both a full-length book and a novella (don't ask), and now preparing to stare Book #6 in the Haunted Guesthouse series in the face, I have come to a really disturbing conclusion about my own mind.

I am incapable of remembering what I've written. Well, not all of it, anyway.

Now, this would not be a very serious problem at all if I'd written what we lovingly call "standalones," books that begin and end and are not intended to be continued in any way. But I don't; I write series books. So the characters and their travails are meant to go on for as long as the reading public and the publisher wish for them to do so.

Therein lies the rub, dear reader: I don't always remember what the hell I've written before. So details can get by, and when I decide to write something new, it's inconsistent with what has come before. For Chance coverCHANCE OF A GHOST, the current novel, in which Alison's father re-enters her life after being dead for five years, it took a half-day of research to find out if I'd ever mentioned his name before, and if so, what it might be.

It's Jack, but that's not the point.

So in a conversation with my editor, the luminous Shannon Jamieson Vazquez, the subject of writing a bible for the series was broached.

A bible, you say? Yes. That's a term probably taken from the television industry, in which the creator of a series writes up all the relevant data about the main character, the premise, all the other charactes and any signficant events, dates, characteristics or opinions ("I hate herring!") that might become relevant, or at least should be consistent, when the next episode in the series is produced. This avoids problems like, for example, having Mr. Spock fall in love with Lt. Uhura, because he's a logical, unemotional Vulcan and that could never happen. It'd just be silly.

So a bible for the Haunted Gueshouse series seems like a very good idea. It would help to centralize all the information about Alison Kerby and her family and friends, to keep facts straight and avoid emails from angry readers (oh, you'd be amazed) who found something on p. 194 three books back that indicates Alison doesn't like to eat tuna fish sandwiches on Wednesdays. And it would help me, going forward, not say things I'll just have to rewrite once the aforementioned Ms. Jamieson Vazquez gets her hands on it, or the proofreader decides to take matters into his/her own hands.

There's just one problem: I don't want to write the bible. Not the one(s) that people like to quote chapter and verse, and not one for my own series.

First, it would require that I re-read each story I've written in the series. I know, you're saying, "Hey, you wrote them, so that's not such a chore," and "it's only four books." Well, the part about the four books forget, because there are also two novellas (one coming in October) and Thrillone more book (almost) completely done (coming November 5). So, seven stories altogether.

But the bigger problem is that I cringe at the thought of reading that much of my work all in a row. I see every tiny problem, every line of dialogue I'd write in another way now, every question I had to answer, every silly plot device I thought was a great idea at the time, and every nutty murderer I wrote who really could have solved his/her problem in some other way much more easily. (Not to be too grandiose, but) Picasso probably looked at Guernica and said, "Black and white? What was I thinking?"

Worse, that much reading, even (or perhaps especially) of my own work makes me sleepy. To be fair, if it's the right time of the day, any amount of reading will make me sleepy. About 3 in the afternoon, you can walk up to me with a STOP sign to read, and I'll nod off just before the "O".

Then there's the whole issue of writing down EVERYTHING that might eventually be relevant. How do I know what's going to be relevant two books from now? I don't. So I'll have to write down every possible detail in every sentence. Why not just keep re-reading the books? All I'll have cut out is all the "I"s and the "she said"s. 

There's a certain hubris among authors--we designed these characters, these places, these plots. We have created universes. How dare it be assumed that we can't change whatever we want? Well, it's fine when we remember what we've done before and make choices to change things given the new circumstances we conjure up. If Alison's 11-year-old daughter Melissa has a new friend, that's okay; she doesn't have to spend all her time with Wendy. But if suddenly Alison referred to her daughter as "Melinda," that would be a problem.

So I imagine the bible is an inevitability. But it's not going to happen anytime soon, trust me. Book #6 must come first. 

If I ask you what someone's name was in Book #2, just indulge me. My memory isn't what it used to be.

Jun 122013
 

(NOTE FROM JOSH: I was sitting down to write this evening when the Boy, two days done with Middle School but not yet a Freshman, tells me to step aside. “You’re tired,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

Clearly he has been. And he’s not shy about discussing it. I hope I miss the train to Weenieville.

JG)

Classics, Inc.

By Joe Newman-Getzler

                What is a “classic”? Depending on whom you ask the answers could vary wildly. For some, a classic could be a book like Murder on the Orient Express, a movie like Casablanca, or a song like “Let It Be”. To others, a classic could be a book like Diary of a Wimpy Kid, a movie like Johnny Dangerously, or a song like “Boom! Shake the Room." This need not only apply to books. The term “classic” can also be applied to anything from a good joke to a memorable sports play. But what, indeed, is a classic? And how does it unify these many different things?

                To most people, a classic is merely a thing that stays in their head for a long time, usually for a positive reason. But to some, the name goes much deeper than that. A classic means a piece of cultural significance, something considered a great thing that all should love and cherish for its greatness. Typically, there is a predetermined set of “classics” for any kind of genre or type. For example, if you want a “classic” book, the names that’ll probably come up would be books like Animal Farm, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, or Gone with the Wind. A “classic” movie? You’d probably see names like Citizen Kane, Some Like it Hot, or Singin’ in the Rain. But should we have our classics defined for us? Or should we form our own opinions on what is classic and what’s not?

                This is a question that has been troubling me for a while now: what’s a classic and what’s not? The reason this has been rumbling through my mind is because lately I have been trying to give myself a “classical” film and literary experience. Summer’s just begun, and now that I have gobs upon gobs of time to spend, I want to fill them with great books and great movies. For the former, my family has been supplying me with tons of great books like To Kill a Mockingbird and The Catcher in the Rye. And yes, they are great. But I will admit, my standards for classics are pretty low. The whole school year was peppered with classic books in my English class, like The Woman Warrior, The Chosen, Animal Farm, you name it. But my ideas of classics are Dave Barry is Not Making This Up, Bugs Bunny: 50 Years and Only One Gray Hare, and There Is No Dog. And yet, Mom and Dad say not to read those over and over. Read The Hobbit. Come on! It’s only 500 pages long, you wuss!

                Movies are another area of “classics” that drive me crazy, though for a different reason. While I would consider myself a rather decent film lover, there are still so many movies I haven’t seen that I feel pressured by myself to watch. Seriously?, I ask myself. You haven’t seen Citizen Kane? Jaws? The Dark Knight? You, sir, are on the train straight to Weenieville. And even my gym teacher’s let into me about my lack of film exposure: he spent 10 minutes telling me how I simply must watch The Empire Strikes Back in order to truly deem myself a Star Wars fan (BTW, I’ve only seen A New Hope and Return of the Jedi. That fact led to not only the aforementioned monologue, but another about how I should watch the prequels because, yeah, they suck, but I MUST have the complete Star Wars experience.) And yet, I also feel that there are a great many films that I truly love and yet many don’t even think of in the same league as “classics.” Seriously, does nobody but me consider UHF a classic? Charlie and the Chocolate Factory better than the Gene Wilder one? I feel so lonely.

                It’s times like this when I start to think about how subjective a term “classic” is. Can only what has been previously called a classic be a classic? Can others come up with their own “classic” films to share with the world? That is my hope. While, naturally, classic books and movies are to be revered and respected, they aren’t the only good books and movies out there! I wish more people would realize that. And YES, I am going to watch The Empire Strikes Back this summer. But the prequels? Hmm. Maybe. But for now…keep on readin’.                                                                                                    
Jun 102013
 

Jeff Cohen

This is NOT an attempt to step on Erin's feet. I am by no means an expert in publicity or promotion, as is evidenced by the fact that you probably stumbled on this post by accident, or because you've read one of Josh's or Lynne's (or any of the other brilliant bloggers' here) posts and just kept coming back.

But for the past 10 years or so, since I've been a published author, I've observed other published authors, both more financially successful and about the same as myself. And one of the key things I've noticed is that these days (and this will come as news to absolutely no one), an author must have an online presence to establish his/herself in the minds of readers.

And that, after a while, leads to Twitter_icon4Twitter.

The 140-character sensation/punchline/end-of-civilization-as-we-know-it is both a potential boon to writers and an equally likely downfall wrapped in chocolate. For an author hoping to become better known among readers, Twitter offers virtually unlimited promotional opportunities. It has a number of drawbacks as well, including the fact that only those who already know about the author are likely to "follow" the Twitter feed of that writer to begin with. 

I'll leave it up to Erin to explain how a writer might go about building his/her number of Twitter followers, and whether she thinks it's a good idea (okay, Erin?). I have about 1000 followers, which is the Twitter equivalent of going out to a restaurant and reserving a table for one. But I will note a few observations on what you might want to include in your (and I grimace even as I use the word) tweets:

1. Don't always be tweeting about your book. This is the equivalent of never updating your Facebook status except to say that people should purchase a copy of your latest tome. It becomes annoying so fast that you'll lose followers quickly, and frankly, nobody's going to buy your book based on a 140-character pitch anyway. 

2. Don't Imagestweet as your character. That's so cutesy it's probably illegal to do without actually dispensing insulin to your followers. And, it comes across as violating Rule #1.

3. If you write under a pseudonym, tweet under the pseudonym. I write both ways, so I have one account as myself, and one as E.J. Copperman. E.J., despite having a huge lead in Facebook friends, enjoys far fewer Twitter followers than I have. One possible reason: E.J. often violates Rule #1, and doesn't tweet very often at all, thereby killing any potential momentum. (We are falling here into "do as I say, not as I do" territory.) I never claimed to be an expert. On anything.

4. Tweet often, but not every minute. It's a delicate balance. Authors who don't go on Twitter more than once a month and then tweet something like, "Buy my book" are asking for failure. On the other hand, authors who tweet--about anything--every few minutes and won't leave their followers alone run the risk of becoming annoying. Risk? Ha! They'll definitely become annoying.

5. Definitely Screen Shot 2013-06-10 at 1.56.53 PMretweet others, but only when you like what they said. Twitter is about social networking and having a conversation, not just about you. So when you think someone else--even, yes, a competing author--says something you think is witty, or true, or simply worth repeating, hit the "retweet" button. It costs you nothing. However, just retweeting random comments so you can show someone more famous is following you is just a way of showing off and will not impress anybody, since they're probably being followed by the President. In more ways than one. Which leads me to...

6. Give serious thought before tweeting anything about politics or religion. And then, probably don't do it. I understand the temptation, believe me. My blood boils at the same temperature as yours, and I have not been 100% perfect on this score myself. But it does you no good in the popularity annals, and strikingly, the world remains largely unchanged despite your pontification.

7. Don't expect Twitter to make you famous. Unless you're the Bronx Zoo Cobra, it's highly unlikely that any social network alone will turn you into an overnight sensation. Those who have gained unusual levels of fame through what they tweet or post on Facebook would probably love to have back the second before they hit the "Send" button (ask Anthony Weiner). What Twitter or anything else online can do for you is raise your profile a little, get out news when there's news to get out, and maybe provide a little communication between you and your readers, which is almost never a bad thing. So get out there and (you should pardon the expression) tweet!

But don't ask me to explain that thing on Fridays where people just tweet lists of other people's Twitter names. I think it's sweet when someone includes me, but I haven't a clue what it's all about.

 

Jon Stewart will return to The Daily Show in 85 days.

Jun 032013
 

Jeff Cohen

A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

It's always fun to get questions from readers. Really. When a reader asks an author a question, it shows an interest in the work that's gratifying. And to be honest, there are few things that are as fragile and hungry as an author's ego. So all in all, it's a win/win situation when a reader asks an author something about a book.

The most frequently asked question I hear is the one that's most difficult to answer. Readers who read any of my books, from Minivancoversmallthe first Aaron Tucker novel to the latest Haunted Guesthouse mystery will ask, "Is the character you?" or "Did you really..." about any given incident or action in the book.

And when asked, I always answer that no, nothing in the book has ever really happened, and I make up every word that appears in every piece of fiction I have ever written. And that is entirely true. Is the character actually a version of me? 

Now, that question is trickier.

Let me begin by saying that, no, none of the characters I have ever written is me. Not entirely. I have never set out to write myself into any of the stories I've concocted. I don't consider myself either an especially heroic or villainous person, and wouldn't ever portray myself in fiction as unimportant nor mediocre (see comment above re: ego).

But to say that an author can ever create a character who is not part of his/her own mind is to misunderstand the process of creative writing. In order to make a character breathe on the page, no matter how successful one is to do so, a writer has to think for that character, to understand what the character's purpose in the scene might be, and what that character would think its purpose might be, and what wants and needs the character would bring to the moment.

In other words, if you can't get into the character's head, you can't possibly write the character convincingly.

Remember this: Every character an author writes--EVERY character--thinks the story is about THEM. Characters, after all, don't know they're in a book. They think they're living their lives and dealing with the situations thrown at them. Any time a character acts in a way that betrays it's at the author's convenience, that the plot is driving the character's actions (and not the other way around), the author doesn't know the character well enough and, frankly, isn't doing his/her job.

Every story you've ever written and every character is each of those stories is the product of an author's imagination. And if you think that's anything other than an act of amazing, idiotic bravery, you've never tried it.

Any person who has ever been silly enough to write down his/her imaginings and then dared to ask others to read it has taken a chance. We all fantasize; we all daydream. Chance coverEverybody asks, "What if..." inside his/her mind at some point or another. It's those of us who feel the inexplicable urge to communicate those fancies to others who must be in some way demented. We are asking total strangers to understand those thoughts we have that we don't completely understand ourselves, and to love them.

So is that me on the page? Sure it is. Because there's no way I could have written those words if I hadn't thought of them first. It's not possible to create characters who have no relation to your own thinking. Do we act on all the thoughts we write down? I hope not--Hannibal Lecter is a fictional character, after all--but don't think for a moment that the characters we write are completely outside our own selves. 

Because they have to come from somewhere.

Jun 022013
 

Jessy Randall

Last week I posted my 2012 poetry submission statistics, which were better than I expected (34% acceptance rate, 68 submissions). So I looked at earlier years for a reality check.

Poetrycomic44badgraph
In 2011, I submitted 69 bundles of poems, collaborations, poetry comics, and short stories to various journals. 19 journals accepted my work, which makes for a 28% acceptance rate. According to my records, I received 43 rejections. (One of these arrived within an hour of my submitting; a couple others arrived within a day. Others took 18 months or more.) Seven journals never replied. Interruptions: Collaborative Poems (with Daniel M. Shapiro) came out in 2011, but I can't count the manuscript as a 2011 submission -- it was accepted for publication in 2009. 

In 2010, I submitted 62 bundles of poems, collaborations, poetry comics, and short stories. I got 14 acceptances (23%), 39 rejections, and nine no reply.

In 2005, I submitted 60 bundles and got 13 acceptances (22%), 43 rejections, four no reply.

What strikes me about these numbers is that the number of submission bundles each year is about the same. That totally amazes me. I guess the lesson here is that no one should trust my estimates of anything. I would have guessed that my acceptance rate was lower than 10% and that I sent an average of about twenty submissions a year with a wide variance. 

And by the way, I wouldn't interpret my increase in acceptance rate as evidence I've become a better poet (much as I'd like to think that were true). I think the increase probably comes from submitting more carefully, knowing the magazines better and thinking in terms of where do I want to be, with whom do I want to be associated, rather than what magazine is the most famous.

May 292013
 

Josh Getzler

An article appeared in today’s New York Times about the “instant bestsellers” created by Amazon’s Kindle Deals of the Day (and parallel deals on Nook etc). The story described the immediate, material effect on a book’s sales when it is discounted for a day and advertised as a “Daily deal” in email blasts and on front pages. For the sake of ease (and because of my own experience) I am going to use the Amazon version throughout this post. There must be some differences, but the idea is the same.

The article in the Times simplified the event to its most easily digestible ingredients: Amazon lowers the price on a book from, say, $3.99 to $1.99, sends out an email, and Boom! goes the dynamite. Then the price goes back up, and the event is over.

Except that’s not what happens. What happens—unusual for an event in Publishing—is better. Because these deals are sticky. Let me explain, using a real-life example.

E. M. Powell’s historical thriller The Fifth Knight, which I’ve discussed before in this blog, is one of my little engines that Can. It sold steadily, first in its serialized form and then, when the serialization was complete, had a lovely eight-or-so-week run of steady, strong sales. The book had sold a good number of copies—low five figures, very nice. We were happy, but (as happens inevitably) sales began to slide. Where The Fifth Knight had spent twelve weeks hovering between 1,500 and 3,500 in the Amazon rankings, it then dropped below 10,000, 15,000…It was time to start regrouping for book 2.

Then, one Sunday morning in March, I get an email from the author. “What on earth is happening to my book?” What do you mean? “It’s going crazy—the rankings are in the hundreds.”

What had happened was that that day, without a heads-up (Ahem, Thomas and Mercer…), The Fifth Knight was made a Kindle Deal of the Day. The price had gone to $1.99. I watched, stunned, as the rankings hit 300, 100, 50, 25…all the way to 6. We doubled our sales.

But something else happened, which the Times didn’t discuss, and which to my mind is the genius of the Daily Deal. As a large number of copies sold during the course of that Sunday, the rankings for The Fifth Knight improved not just in the overall Kindle list (which was, of course, lovely), but also in Fiction, mystery, thriller, historical fiction, romance, historical romance, hot movers and shakers…you get the idea. And each of these lists showed a thumbnail of The Fifth Knight. Thumbnails with links to the book’s page, where you can buy it.

So in one day, The Fifth Knight went from having a negligible presence on Amazon.com to one you pretty much can’t buy—it was on at least ten separate “landing pages,” where you go when you want to browse, for example, Historical Fiction. It’s akin to being face out in ten different areas of a bookstore, so wherever you look, there is the book. It begins to be bundled more frequently with other books with similar themes, starts to be included in “if you like ___ then you will like The Fifth Knight” emails. It works the algorithm, as it were.

THAT is the genius of the Daily Deal. Because then, once the price of the ebook had risen back to 3.99, people still bought The Fifth Knight because it was Hot. The fire, which had become a merely warm ember, restarted, and burned brighter. The second run lasted another six weeks before sputtering again—having sold another significant number of books.

And the stickiness of this deal doesn’t end there. When the author’s next book comes out, anyone who bought The Fifth Knight will hear about it, whether the copy was on deep discount or regular price. The bar will be set higher for book 2, with greater expectations for sales leading (we can hope) for more marketing coops, perhaps a higher advance…and maybe, maybe, another Daily Deal.

 

PS—Early this afternoon we received word that Dana Cameron’s Seven Kinds of Hell will be the Science Fiction Daily Deal on Kindle tomorrow. It will be fascinating to see how that plays out. But I will say, we whooped a bit on West 80th Street.

May 272013
 

Jeff Cohen

 I love hearing from readers. Truly, I do. Every one of them, even the ones who send emails to tell you how disappointed they were while reading your book (Really? You had to take time out of your day to inform me of that?). They ask questions, many of them say nice things about the work, and sometimes they try to get you to read their work, something I never do, for legal and otherwise common sense reasons.

But the emails that come in through the account for ThrillE.J. Copperman are special. They do pretty much the same things as the others, but the readers who get in touch are dealing with an unknown, as very little personal information on E.J. exists, mostly because there isn't any.

The best part is that they think E.J. is a woman. 

I've posted here before on my delight at that assumption; it means that the illusion is working and the voice of the Haunted Guesthouse novels is authentic enough, which is very pleasing. Much of the credit goes to the series editor, Shannon Jamieson Vazquez, who is a bona fide woman and nudges me back in line when I make Alison sound too guy-y.

But the interesting reactions come when people find out that E.J. is indeed more a man than, you know, not. They are, in some cases, astounded. Again, I take that as a compliment. The questions one gets, however, are a little baffling.

"How can you possibly write from a woman's point of view?"

Roughly half the people on the planet are female. If, as a writer of fiction, I can't imagine their point of view, I had better restrict myself to stories in men's correctional institutions or look for another line of work. 

Spencer Quinn (aka Peter Abrahams, not to spoil your illusion) writes a series of mystery novels in which the narrator is the detective's dog. I'll give you a moment, if you haven't read Chet and Bernie (and you should). A dog. And he's the narrator.

Now, a number of questions might leap to the mind of the astute reader. For example, can the dog type? Does he write these things while his human counterpart is asleep? Has Bernie read the books? Does Chet dictate them to a person who can decipher barking into human English? None of these issues are addressed in the books.

But nobody bats an eye when Quinn/Abrahams writes from the dog's point of view. I write from a female character's viewpoint, and it's amazing? 

I know it's hard to fathom, but I've met a number of Chance coverwomen in my life. I'm married to one of them. We've been living together for 26 years.  Another was one of the two people who raised me. I lived in her house for 20 years. Writers observe other people and use what they observe to create fiction. I have observed women. (When I was younger, I observed women a LOT, but I'm married now. To a woman.)

If I wasn't able to at least speculate about what a female human might think in any given situation, I'd be a pretty bad writer. So the astonishment at being able to create believable characters who are women eludes me. 

Of course I can write women. I can write men, or children. Or dogs, if I decide to put my mind to it. I've written beings from other planets (not in books). I've written movie stars. Soldiers. Police officers. Ghosts. Never been any of those things, either. 

It doesn't seem to bother anybody that I can write at least somewhat believable murderers without having killed anyone (that I can discuss). But a woman! Amazing! How does he do it?

I imagine stuff and write it down. That's my job. Thanks for being shocked that I can fool you sometimes; it means I must be doing something right.

May 262013
 

Jessy Randall

The inimitable Jessie Carty recently posted her 2012 poetry submission statistics, and I gobbled up that post, so I thought I'd do something similar. If you'd like to chime in with your own dirty submission secrets on your own site or blog, feel free to put the URL in the comments.

In 2012, I submitted 68 bundles of poems, collaborations, poetry comics, and short stories to various journals. 23 journals accepted my work, which makes for a 34% acceptance rate. I received 35 rejections. Ten journals never replied.

My collection of poems, Injecting Dreams into Cows, came out in 2012, but I can't count the manuscript as a 2012 submission -- I submitted it in 2009 and signed the contract in 2010. I did submit a book-length manuscript in 2012, a collection of diagram poem things I did with Daniel M. Shapiro. No answer yet.

DecompWhat's that? You're wondering how much money I made? My total grosses for journal publications in 2012: three dollars. (This is Star*Line's minimum payment for short poems. Longer poems yield three cents a word.)

I did make some money from poetry, though, because I got paid about $250 for readings and presentations, plus I got a bottle of home-made vanilla extract, a re-usable iced coffee travel cup, a notebook made from recycled paper, and several free meals. I consider that a bang-up year. Yes, I spent more than $250 to support my habit, but I don't consider myself to be operating at a loss; I arranged all travel to coincide with things I was going to do anyway, or things I wanted to do, like visit faraway friends. And anyway, it would be a very foolish poet who went into it for the money.

Years ago I took a weekend writing workshop at the University of Iowa's Summer Writing Festival. Our instructor, Timothy Liu, said that he considered 33% to be a decent acceptance rate for poems. At the time, this seemed impossibly high to me, especially since Liu was submitting to the more prestigious, long-lived literary journals. I'm rather pleased -- and surprised -- to see that I got there in 2012. I doubt the journals that publish me would impress Liu, but they made me very happy -- my beloved Red Lightbulbs, for example, now defunct, and Menacing Hedge, and Arsenic Lobster.

 

May 222013
 

Lynne Patrick

We did get to Guernsey, for four delicious days. We walked on the cliff path, explored old haunts, found one or two new ones, watched a sunset, walked some more, ate far too many scrumptious things that weren’t at all good for us and came home yesterday feeling relaxed and recharged. I love Guernsey.

Something else I did was indulge in a long catch-up chat with a friend who lives there, and today’s post comes out of that conversation, albeit in an oblique kind of way.

She’s working on a project that relies heavily on her knowledge of Guernsey, which is encyclopaedic and all-enveloping. And talking about it with her made me think about the way so many TV crime dramas rely on evoking the place in which they’re set and the particular characteristics of the people who live there.

It became something of a cliché for British crime writers a decade or so ago: set your series in a beautiful place and selling it for TV serialization will be a doddle.
Midsomer Murders, based in a kind of generic Cotswold village location, is still going strong, even though it hasn’t had much to do with Caroline Graham’s novels since the first series. Wycliffe, set on the stunningly beautiful Cornish coast, pops up regularly on satellite channels, dated by the huge monitors on the computers and the brick-sized mobile phones. I’ve never seen one of W J Burley’s novels even in the library, but he gets a credit on every episode.

And of course there’s Morse and his spinoff Lewis, set among the ancient dreaming spires of Oxford with its conveniently ever-changing population of students and academics.
There’s even a Morse walking tour now, taking in the picturesque city centre locations the cameras lapped up.

I’ll probably be shot down in flames, or possibly sued, for saying this, but I do wonder if the books would have gained the fame and fortune they did without the TV adaptations. Moving pictures on the TV have a way of getting inside your head and making you come back for more, especially when they’re counterpointed by murder and mayhem in the plot.

That said, creating those pictures in words on the page is a talent some authors have in abundance. I’ve just finished reading a mystery set in the Dordogne (south-west France for the benefit of geographically challenged blog-followers), and I really felt as if I was there. And when I extrapolated on that thought, I began to wonder if one reason I can’t get along with Scandinavian crime fiction is that the authors are too damn good at getting it right; they make it feel so grey and depressing that I simply don’t want to know!

I’m conscious that, aside from the above para, I’ve focused on British crime writers and locations here. That’s because all the examples I could think of of novels turned into picturesque TV series happened to be British. And also because I know them better than their American equivalents: certainly not because America lacks beautiful places. Or writers who set crime novels in them; Tony Hillerman is well represented on my bookshelves, and a certain E J Copperman has introduced me to the Jersey Shore, which I plan to visit one of these fine years.

So now we come to the point I’ve been leading to. I may have said this before, so apologies if I’m repeating myself, but what worries me a little about gory crime set in beautiful places is the credibility factor. It was with a sharp intake of breath that I saw that Ann Cleeves, one of my favourite Brit crime writers, had been persuaded to write a fifth Shetland novel. I heard Ann speak about the Shetland Quartet several times, and she always said that crime in general and murder in particular is so rare in the Shetland islands that even four books pushed credibility a little far. And now there’s a fifth. Will there be a sixth, seventh and eighth? Do I hear the rattle of shekels in the counting house? Who said publishing was run by accountants?

Enough for now, lest I use my soapbox as a ladder to climb on my high horse.

May 202013
 

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 UnknownGarry 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 Unknown-1crossword 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_talksTED 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 The_Daily_Show_logo.800w_600h1Daily 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.

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