crime writing Archives

Left Coast Crime report

Alexandra Sokoloff, Bloody Scotland, Craig Robertson, crime writing, Gordon Brown, Jack Chapple, John Rector, Keith Raffel, Laura Lippman, Left Coast Crime, mystery conference, Twist Phelan Comments Off

Mar 292013

by Alexandra Sokoloff

I'm back from Left Coast Crime and I always try to do the con wrap-up for anyone who can't be there in person and so that I can sort out my own memories of the whirlwind that a conference always is. LCC is one of my favorite smaller cons, as laid-back as its name implies and one of the friendliest out there.

The actual conference was in Colorado Springs, but my con experience started in Denver, the night before, because mystery powerhouse and sweetheart Twist Phelan and her wonderful other half, Jack Chapple, were getting married and had arranged the wedding to coincide with LCC so that all their author friends could come (and also to say their vows on the Equinox, don’t think I didn’t notice that excellence of timing).

I’ll set the stage: Denver is a fairly good-sized city in a great bowl of plains, surrounded by a ring of very high snowy mountains. Gorgeous. Downtown is very funky – there’s a Gold Rush feel to it and an instant sense of eccentricity – in the layout of the streets (narrow and veering wildly all over the place, coming to strange triangles everywhere), in the buildings (many of which are built in strange triangles to fit the strange triangular intersections), and the overall dress is Wild West: lots of cowboy hats and boots and fur vests. The people – well, the people are a trip. As in San Francisco (another Gold Rush town – think about it), Denverites cultivate their eccentricities. One of my favorite sightings was a homeless guy perched on a bridge with a sign that read: SPACESHIP BROKE DOWN – NEED MONEY FOR PARTS. And from the look of him, he wasn’t kidding.

I shared a shuttle to the wedding with always amazing Guest of Honor Laura Lippman, superfun debut author Leslie Silbert, conference organizer/goddess Christine Goff, and the debonair Reed Farrel Coleman, who was liking the gender balance very much. Then the women somehow got into a appallingly detailed discussion of rape statistics and Reed had to explain to the suddenly very quiet male shuttle driver, “Crime writers, what can you do?”

The mood lightened immediately upon arrival at the Space Art Gallery. Knowing their friends, Twist and Jack had an open bar before the ceremony got started. The industrial style space was a great backdrop for all the red attire we had been requested to wear, which also matched the paintings. The latent production designer in me approved. And of course crime writers create their own special blend of drama everywhere they go: the vows and Twist’s dress got locked in an upstairs storage room- with a steel door. But that's where your law enforcement/author friends come in handy - the bride and groom had retired police detective Robin Burcell trying to break in to retrieve everything to get the wedding started.

I’m not usually one to cry at weddings (partly because I’ve often been the minister and that would be bad), but I shocked all my friends by starting in the moment Twist started down the stairs (to "Tonight's Gonna Be a Good Night") in a shimmery pale gold dress that was worth breaking down a door for and being in every way the definition of radiance. I loved her little dance in the aisle. Then when minister Jan Burke (who was rocking her vestments) stepped up and opened the ceremony with a reading from The Velveteen Rabbit, well, it was all over for me – I don’t think I stopped crying, all through the speeches by Harley Jane Kozak and Reed Farrel Coleman, straight through the most excellent vows. I think Jack actually might have outwritten Twist… he started deceptively simply and then killed it at the end (when I told him so after he said, “You do learn SOMETHING about structure, hanging out with you guys…)

It was all perfect loveliness, so wonderful to share an experience like that with the tribe.

As we moved on to Colorado Spings and the Cheyenne Mountain Resort, a storm front moved in. Now, rational people understand that any conference in the winter is going to be dicey, but I am famous for forgetting that outside of California they have this thing called “weather.” As usual I showed up with a suitcase of clothes far better suited to the Bahamas than the Rockies. I had checked Weather.com, but too far in advance to have gotten the latest snow warning.

Still, there are worse things than being confined to a gorgeous resort hotel with stunning views outside and all your favorite people inside. This hotel was probably the best con venue I’ve ever been in as far as views go. Every level of the place had floor-to-ceiling windows. Those of us from California were permanently parked in front of them; we could sit in any number of luxurious armchairs and sofas and watch the snow falling, or blowing, outside, while having conversations that ranged from comparing the storytelling intricacies of Stephen King and Ira Levin (with John Rector) to a howlingly funny discussion of toilet – um, etiquette (with Naomi Hirahara, Keith Raffel, and sparkling Catriona McPherson, who I'm pleased to say won the Bruce Alexander Historical Mystery Award), to the pleasurable challenge of deciphering the accents of designated Scotsmen Craig Robertson and Gordon Brown, Tartan Noir authors and organizers of Bloody Scotland, a brand-new international crime writing festival that is looking to be unmissable. And of course the inevitable ongoing e book marketing conversation (with LJ Sellers, Keith Raffel, and Elle Lothlorien).

There was work involved, too – I did a paranormal panel, the established author breakfast, and my Screenwriting Tricks for Authors workshop, which I am thinking of retitling The Author's Guide to Great Climaxes. It was more of a challenge than usual - Denver is the Mile High City and altitude sickness is always a problem for me and it’s an actual miracle I got through the workshop without passing out. Just walking across a room was winding for a lot of attendees, not just me. Still, even though I had just 45 minutes to do what I have learned never to attempt in less than a two-hour block, it turned out to be one of the most rewarding workshops I’ve ever taught, on a multitude of levels. I was surprised by how many readers (non-writing) were in the audience and really got a charge out of it. One man I spoke to afterward said he had no interest in writing but he came to conferences, and workshops like mine, to improve his reading ability. I thought that was lovely, and heartening, and it answered a question I asked here on this blog just two weeks ago.

I was pondering how valid the conference experience is going to be in the future, now that authors can reach so many more people at once, and without cost, through online promotions, and Facebook has made it so possible and so much fun to have ongoing conversations between readers and writers. But obviously I had no idea what I was talking about.

A lot of people I know have been freaking out about piracy recently and panicking about how it will cut into authors’ royalties. Well, maybe. And as was to be expected, panels like “The Future of Publishing” generated some friction (she said diplomatically) between authors, booksellers, and publishers.

But there is nothing like a conference to demonstrate that readers are savvy, loyal and intensely interested in preserving “their” authors’ welfares. They know they have to buy us for us to keep writing for them. And we really don’t have to reach a million readers to make a comfortable living at this; a writing career can also be sustained by a much smaller, hardcore core, many of whom you meet and bond with at these conferences. It’s a symbiotic relationship that is fed by these magical encounters. We are a tribe, and I have every confidence that no matter how rough the publishing waters get, the tribe is going to have our backs.

Thanks a million to conference goddesses Christine Goff and Suzanne Proulx and all the fabulous volunteers for throwing a spectacular party!

In other news, as I’m sure people are hearing, Amazon has bought Goodreads, and everyone's atwitter (sorry...) Others here are far more active on GR than I am, so I wondered what you all thought.

http://www.nydailynews.com/blogs/pageviews/2013/03/amazon-buys-goodreads-twittersphere-upset

And on the subject of Amazon, there's this new wrinkle that authors need to be aware of.

http://janefriedman.com/2013/03/26/amazon-white-glove-program/

- Alex

WORDS MATTER

crime writing, dialogue, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery Comments Off

Mar 272013

by Gar Anthony Haywood

"I can't believe I did that!" Harry shrieked horrifically.

"I can't believe it either!" Jane emphatically agreed.

"It was so stupid. What was I thinking!"

"I don't know. Two thousand exclamation points, and seven hundred adverbs!" Jane cried. "What are we supposed to do with two thousand exclamation points and seven hundred adverbs!"

"Don't forget the twelve hundred replacements for 'said' and 'asked' the guy threw in for free. I'm telling you, this was the telemarketer from hell!"

"I know what to do!" Jane exclaimed after a moment of thought. "We could write a mystery, and use exclamation points in place of periods wherever the slightest bit of excitement needs to be conveyed! Sometimes, we could even use them in place of question marks!"

"What!"

"You heard me. And instead of all those boring 'saids' when people speak---"

"We could use the replacements and adverbs I bought instead!" Harry chuckled gleefully. "And what a great read our mystery will be. All that emotion and drama!"

"Which we couldn't possibly convey any other way..."

Okay, had enough? I have. In case you haven't already guessed, the subject of my post this week is dialogue, and I've led off with an example of the worst kind imaginable.

In this author's opinion, great dialogue, which both sings and moves your story forward simultaneously, has the following characteristics:

It sounds like real people talking. Over-stylized dialogue may win Tony awards on Broadway, but all it does in fiction is take the reader out of your story. Go easy on the clever repartee and only use as much ethnic or professional jargon as realism demands. Otherwise, every time a character opens his or her mouth, your novel will read like a playwriting exercise in Theater 101.

It flows like fine wine. Great dialogue hums with a natural rhythm, similar to a perfectly tuned car engine at idle. To achieve this effect, it's often necessary to rewrite an exchange of dialogue over and over again, until every note sounds just right.

It suits the situation. I just read a thriller that was humming along just fine until a firefight broke out. The two characters ducking for cover were facing almost certain death --- and one was talking nonsense while the other was cracking wise. Neither was saying anything befitting someone afraid for his life. Clearly, the author failed to ask (and adequately answer) a critical question before he opened his characters' mouths: "What would real people say to each other under these circumstances?"
It's light on attribution and adverbs. A simple "said" is fine here and there, if only to keep the reader straight on who's speaking, but that's it. Anything else draws attention to yourself and what you're attempting to accomplish.

It's consistent with the people involved. A character who drops her Gs and says "ain't" instead of "isn't" on page eleven shouldn't abruptly start speaking like a Rhodes scholar on page 44. Keep track of the speech patterns you assign every character and make sure they maintain them throughout your novel.

It's lean and fast. A long paragraph of unbroken speech coming from a single character isn't dialogue---it's a monologue. And just as interminable, droning speeches cause your attention to wander in real life, so do they have the same deadly effect on someone reading a novel. Ever hear of the KISS rule? That's "Keep It Simple, Stupid." Well, here's a new rule for you, strictly pertaining to dialogue: KISSS (Keep It Short and Sweet, Stupid.)

It's almost totally devoid of expository information. Believe me, I know how hard it can be to deliver 10,000 words of crucial data in only 400 pages so that your plot will make perfect sense to the reader in the end---but that's not your characters' problem, it's yours. Charge the men and women in your book with the task of conveying the hows and whys of it through verbal exchanges and a reader will suddenly see them for exactly what they are: Not real people, but imaginary conduits for a writer struggling to lay the groundwork of his story.

Not everybody sounds alike. Patterns of speech are one of the most powerful devices with which to differentiate the people in your novel. If you've given them adequate color in this area, you should be able to eliminate all attribution in a stretch of dialogue and still know who is saying what to whom.

Not everybody sounds like you. This is similar to the problem above, except that it's worse. Don't ever kid yourself or anyone else who might ask: At least one character in every book you'll ever write is going to be you, in one thinly veiled disguise or another. I mean, we don't invent the worlds we write about just so other people can walk around in them, do we? So naturally, a character here or there is going to sound a lot like you when he speaks, and that's okay. What's not okay is affixing this particular trait to your entire cast, especially if your pattern of speech happens to be jarringly distinctive.
Not everybody is a comedian. There's room for at least one smart-aleck in every story, especially if he or she is funny. But invite more than one clown to a party and watch your guests start hitting the exits. As noted in the previous two bullet-points, each of your characters should have their own set of personality traits, and among those traits should be a unique sense of humor (or total lack thereof). Two people constantly trading wisecracks is a bore, but two people trading the same kind of wisecrack is both a bore and a crock. Be careful here.

Exclamations are practically non-existent. Anything less than total outrage or sheer terror is insufficient grounds for an exclamation point. Try to use them only when your character is responding to something along the lines of having just accidentally sliced his thumb off with a steak knife.

Question for the Class: What authors do you most admire for their dialogue, in particular?

Give A Good Guy A Really Bad Bad Guy

Crime Pulp, crime story, crime writing, Fiction, fiction writing, Robert W. Fisher, suspense, thrillers, thrillers and mysteries, Uncategorized, writer tips 2 Responses »

Mar 262013

Interception City, Published by Black Mask, March 15, 2013

The best thing any crime writer can do to make his protagonist more sympathetic and far stronger is to provide a worthy (think: very strong, horribly bad or genuinely psychotic) antagonist in the mix.

Endlessly taught in most of the creative writing classes I’ve had, the villain provides the steel spine to any good thriller or action piece. You can make the protagonist as pure or as interesting or even as damaged as you like, but his adversary in evil better be virtually unstoppable.

And evil in ways most of us would rather not even imagine. But as crime or thriller writers, we must. Ask Stephen King.

Anyway, looking back quite a few years, the most obvious example of this to me is the first Dirty Harry movie, called (unsurprisingly) Dirty Harry.

In it, a young Clint Eastwood is excellent as rogue cop Harry Callahan, a legalized killer with a .44 Magnum, but his stature was greatly elevated (as far as the audience was concerned) when he came up against the shockingly savage villainy of the psychotic Scorpio Killer, played with manic intensity by Andy Robinson.

Andy Robinson did such a great job, in fact, playing a murderous and almost-unstoppable lunatic, that it was said producers and casting directors in Hollywood wouldn’t meet with him for a long time afterward, fearing he was too much in real life like the part he’d so brilliantly played.

And when he was blasted away by Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum in the last act, it was a feeling, I’ll admit, of great satisfaction. The Scorpio Killer finally, after getting away with so damn much, paid for his horrifying sins with his life.

Justice. Or just a need on the audience’s part for a form of simple revenge. For being such a terrible person. Seriously.

The bad guy’s antics are, after all, much of the reason (unsavory or not) that we continue to watch, or to turn the page, waiting for that final moment when the villain’s either blasted into oblivion or, at the very least, arrested and hauled away.

In other words, something inside of each of us can’t stand to see the son of a bitch get away with it.

Ten years later, another of the great bad guys, also played with brilliant savagery, was James Remar as Albert Ganz, the psychopath of 48 Hours (the violent but hilarious feature film debut of Eddie Murphy, not the TV news show).

Ganz killed as easily as he breathed, and went off like a Chinese firecracker at the slightest provocation, again providing all of us in the audience with a great sense of relief when Nick Nolte eventually shot him multiple times.

Which brings us, in my opinion, to one of the greatest feat(s) of film villainy in many a year, performed by the superb actor Alan Rickman.

Within four years, Rickman managed to play three of the coldest, yet wittiest, villains the screen has ever seen, thus adding that steel spine to three great thrillers.

In the original Die Hard, 1988, as Hans Gruber, he was the brilliant but murderous killer who masterminded the almost-murder of an entire office building full of people, thus giving Bruce Willis a chance to be exactly what a real hero should be.

In Quigley Down Under, 1990, as Elliot Marston, he was the evil Australian ranch owner who was systematically committing genocide against the aborigines until American gunman Tom Selleck shot him down, along with his two evil cohorts, in Marston’s own front yard.

And last, but not least, in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, 1991, Rickman was the mercilessly evil but wisecracking Sheriff of Nottingham, a part played to the hilt by a truly gifted actor, until Kevin Costner ran him through. And through again, I think.

It’s been a while.

In any case, none of the movies above would’ve been as thrilling, or would’ve played out or ended as strongly, had it not been for the superb villains that each provided.

Which reminds me.

When it comes to superb villains, I have to mention the greatest recent villain to calmly (and sometimes humorously) murder his way across a huge expanse of silver screen:

Javier Bardem as the epitome of heartless and pure evil, Anton Chigurh, in the Coen Brothers’ masterpiece, No Country For Old Men, 2007.

A terrifyingly realistic but somehow subdued performance in every way, Javier Bardem’s bad guy even terrified all the other bad guys in the film. And rightly so. And at the same time gave the film such brilliant forward momentum that it rocketed through to the shocking end.

And if you haven’t seen it yet: shocking is the right word.

In any case, my newest crime thriller, Interception City, written under my pseudonym Parker T. Mattson, is now out in paperback, published by the great folks at Black Mask, and will soon be available as an e-Book as well.

And, yes, I’ve tried to make the bad guys very, very bad, heartless and genuinely evil, even hatefully so, just in case some bad things finally happen to them in the final chapters.

Which would be justice, believe me. And will probably happen, but I’m giving away nothing here. It’s a thriller, after all, and I might’ve (or might not have) broken some rules.

Here’s the link on Amazon, in case you’re interested: http://www.amazon.com/Interception-City-Parker-T-Mattson/dp/1608726894/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364324620&sr=1-1&keywords=Interception+City

If you read it, let me know what you think.

THE 110% SOLUTION

crime writing, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery fiction Comments Off

Feb 272013

by Gar Anthony Haywood

One of the things I have struggled with throughout my writing career is the nagging fear that I may not be working hard enough. People who realize great success in this world tend to fight their way to the top, they don't simply ascend to it, so working extremely hard to get what I want has always been part of my great Master Plan.

For the most part, I think I have worked hard: I've put in long hours, rewritten my work endlessly, and cultivated relationships with dozens of people capable of moving my career forward. I've done things to promote my writing that have forced me completely out of my comfort zone, and I've done scores of readings and signings for no other reason than to avoid the bad karma of declining.

But I don't work sixteen-hour days.

I don't Tweet.

I don't push myself to write X number of books in Y number of months.

I don't do cold calls seeking reviews or reads or meetings.

I don't blog on multiple websites.

I don't follow book-industry news on a daily basis just to keep up with the latest developments in e-publishing.

I don't attempt to sell myself to anyone I don't have reason to believe will be at least vaguely interested in buying.

I have my reasons for all these "don'ts," of course:

I'm a married father of two pre-teen children who needs his sleep.

I'm on a very limited budget.

Self-promotion makes me feel like an ass.

I have a low tolerance for rejection.

All of the above would be fine if I were selling my work in decent numbers regardless, but I'm not. As I've alluded to here on occasion, I've been writing from the depths of a career downtrend for a while now, so if ever there was a time to pull out all the stops to get ahead, this would be it. The trouble is, I feel like I am pulling out all the stops. The effort I'm making now to grow my career feels like everything I've got to give, despite all the things I'm not doing that so many writers today are.

But maybe I'm just kidding myself. Maybe I'm in denial. Lazy slackers are always the last to realize they are lazy slackers, so maybe I have a lot more to give in terms of elbow grease than I've simply been willing to admit.

Maybe what feels like 110% effort to me is in fact only about 85 percent, relative to the real ass-kickers in our business.

If so, I've got to find that extra 25% somewhere, and fast. Because my desire to succeed as an author is as strong today as it's ever been. Despite all the seeming evidence of sloth and indifference to the contrary.

CAREER BUILDING(S)

crime writing, Fiction, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery, writing career Comments Off

Feb 132013

by Gar Anthony Haywood

As I've mentioned several times recently, the family and I are the proud owners of a new home. We moved into a classic "fixer-upper" in the Glassell Park area of Los Angeles last October, and I've been plenty busy ever since putting the Humpty-Dumpty its previous owners had reduced the place to back together again (with the help of a few fine contractors, plumbers, electricians, etc., of course).

Not long after we moved in, in keeping with a promise the wife and I made our two kids, we bought a family dog. Our first family dog. His name is Bruno, and he was just a twelve-week-old boxer-slash-fill-in-the-blank (Mastiff? Pit bull?) puppy when we first got him --- but look at him now:

As the dog owners among you well know, owning a dog is a lot of work, and much of that work involves walking. Lots and lots of walking. I personally take Bruno out walking at least two times a day. As Glassell Park is almost all hills, depending on the distance I choose to cover, these walks can be a real workout. But I love them. One, because I need the exercise, and two, because telling an author to go out walking his dog is essentially giving him a license to plot. I solve more writing problems in Bruno's company than I do sitting at my computer desk.

But there's one other reason I enjoy walking the dog: Discovering my new neighborhood. Exploring all its twists and turns, the "not-a-through-streets" and "no-outlets." Seeing and meeting the community's diverse mix of people and marveling at its wild array of architectural styles. In doing all this exploring two, sometimes three times a day, a curious thought has occurred to me: A house is a lot like a writing career.

Every author starts out here: On a vacant plot of land, peering into a future that seems vast and full of endless possibilities.

You sell a book, maybe two. A foundation is built. From that foundation, some authors --- good, lucky, or a combination of the two --- will go on to construct a veritable mansion . . .

. . . while others will build the foundation of a career and nothing more.

Some writing careers grow slow and steady, one floor at a time . . .

. . . and some either come to a screeching halt somewhere in the construction process, or simply peter out, like an old alarm clock winding gradually, inexorably down.

All too often, when a writing career falters before it can be made whole, it fades away to nothing, leaving little in the way of a mark behind to indicate it ever existed at all.

And then there are writing careers that wane but refuse to die. Work picks up again, the once-dormant build site starts to hum with new life . . .

. . . and another mansion --- or comfy cottage --- eventually rises toward the heavens.

Or a new plot of ground is staked out upon which to start the construction process all over again.

Funny, the things a writer thinks about while walking his dog, isn't it?

THE FUN FACTOR

crime writing, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery Comments Off

Jan 302013

by Gar Anthony Haywood

The book I'm writing at present is not the one I should be writing. The book I should be writing is one far more likely to sell. A book with a high concept, or one featuring a new character around whom I could build a "franchise." Instead, I'm writing the seventh book in my Aaron Gunner private eye series, a novel that fits the description of a can't-miss bestseller about as well I fit that of an Osmond brother.

Why? Because I want to.

Sorry, but that's the only real reason I've got. I haven't written a book about Gunner in ages and I miss the man. I had a great idea for an opening that turned into a great idea for a Gunner novel and I simply couldn't find the will to put off writing it. I've been far more calculating about my book projects than this in the past, on a number of occasions, but for the most part, this is how I've always operated: chasing the joy, not the dime.

I know I'm not alone in taking this ass-backwards route to success, but I wonder just how many bestselling authors have had it pay off? Is anybody making real money and having fun writing at the same time? Doing only what they want to do, without exception?

God, I hope so.

Because I can't write worth a damn if I'm not having fun. I've tried writing like an adult, with the detached efficiency of a plumber running pipe or an insurance salesman hawking life-term policies, and I hate it. Writing for me is a slog under the best circumstances, and having fun --- yes, fun --- is the only way I get through it. My need to write is all about the stories I feel compelled to tell, not the bills I'm obligated to pay. The long-term dream for me has never been as simple as to make a living writing; the dream has always been to someday have it both ways: to write exactly what I want to write, each and every time out of the box, and make a damn good living doing it.

Evidence to date would suggest I'm just kidding myself, but that's okay. Hope springs eternal.

So I'm writing Gunner Number 7 and loving it. It's hard work, and some days it feels like I'm trying to pull a cow on a leash through a field of quicksand --- but I don't mind.

It's my cow, and it makes me feel good.

FULL SPEED BEHIND

crime writing, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery, NPR, Peace Pilgrim, This American Life Comments Off

Jan 162013

by Gar Anthony Haywood

My middle daughter Erin is going through a bit of a rough time right now. Nothing earth-shattering or health-related, thank God, just the usual fallout from a young adult making a few poor decisions regarding --- what else? --- money. We've talked about her situation together and we both agree that the best way out of the mess she's in is the one that is often the most difficult path of all to take: retreat. Facing up to the fact that pushing forward, rather than falling back post-haste, would only make her problems worse, and acting accordingly.

Taking this tack will be embarassing for her, and will impact others. It will involve admitting her mistake to friends and family, exposing herself as someone who isn't quite as mature and put together as appearances might otherwise indicate. In other words, it's going to be painful as hell. But it has to be done.

In the process of offering her my fatherly advice that she cut her losses now while she still can, before the brown stuff really hits the fan, I told her about a story I'd just recently heard on This American Life, the NPR radio program. The story was titled "Self-Improvement Kick," and it dealt with a young guy named Daryl Watson who, lost in life and looking for purpose, was inspired in 2009 to become the new Peace Pilgrim.

Who the hell was the first "Peace Pilgrim" you ask? Well, it was a woman named Mildred Norman, who in 1953, at the age of 44, took it upon herself to walk across the length of America to promote the cause of peace. From the start of her pilgrimage in Pasadena, California, to her death in Knox, Indiana, 28 years later, Norman logged over 40,000 miles on foot, carrying as her only possessions a pen, a comb, a toothbrush and a map. She was entirely dependent on the kindness of others to keep going; everything she received in the way of food, drink and shelter was freely given. She never asked for anything.

Wow, right?

Anyway, 28 years after her death, young Daryl Watson heard Norman's story and decided he'd just found his purpose in life. He was going to become the world's new Peace Pilgrim. He chucked his career in children's television, sold off all his belongings and cashed out his savings account. Every bridge connecting him to the life he knew was dismantled; Watson not only tore up his driver's license, the aspiring playwright erased every play he had written in the last eight years.

Before he set off from Cape Henlopen State Park in Delaware for San Francisco, California --- a trip he estimated would take him around six months to complete --- he created a blog site dedicated to his journey and emailed a very public goodbye to all his friends and loved ones, explaining as best he could what he was about to do and why. He then started walking . . .

. . . and gave the whole thing up three days later.

Here's how Watson describes what happened just after he'd crossed into the state of Maryland, a mere 40 miles into his trip:

". . . I'm tired, I'm hungry, my feet are killing me, I'm really thirsty, I'm freezing. And I saw this billboard. And it said, 'It's OK to make mistakes --- as long as they're new ones.' And I was like, hmm, I wonder if I made a mistake."

Watson soon decided he had indeed made a mistake and pulled the plug on his grand experiment. Which meant he had to go back home and start his life all over again, but only after telling all those people to whom he'd bid farewell that the Peace Pilgrim, circa 2009, had fallen just 23 1/2 weeks and 2,880 miles short of duplicating the amazing perambulatory feat of the original.

Talk about humiliation.

The impulse to soldier on, even at the risk of ruining his health or, worse, losing his life, must have been incredible. How to admit to all those people that you've failed so miserably, so completely? Wouldn't perishing in the cold almost seem preferable to enduring such mortification? And consider that what Watson was returning to was nothing less (greater?) than Square One, the giant crater of nothingness --- no job, no home, no earthly possessions --- he'd deliberately made of his existence.

Yet he did what had to be done. He admitted defeat and reversed his field, saving himself, and all the good works he may very well do in the future, in the process.

I related this story to Erin because I think it beautifully illustrates the lesson I wanted to impart to her, which is that sometimes, the only way to go forward is to stand on the brakes and go back to where you started, no matter the cost to your ego.

I've been working on a short story over the last several weeks that I'm overdue turning in to my editor. The reason the story's late is that I stopped midway through to rewrite much of what I'd already written, having realized --- or, more to the point, having lost the will to deny --- that the story just flat out wasn't working as it was. I hated to do it. I wanted the damn story over with. But just as Daryl Watson was cosmically advised by a billboard to rethink what he was doing and turn back, I am occasionally the recipient of similar warning messages, and this one told me to bite the bullet, double-back, and fix what was broken in my short story.

It was the right thing to do. The story works flawlessly now.

When deadlines loom, anything short of forward momentum feels like failure. But there are times that moving forward, intead of backward, is precisely the wrong approach to take.

I think Erin understands this now, and I suspect the man who once sought to become Peace Pilgrim, ver. 2.0, does as well.

WITH ALL UNDUE RESPECT, PT. 2

crime writing, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery, road rage Comments Off

Jan 152013

Gar Anthony Haywood

I greatly enjoyed Zoë's most recent post here on the subject of respect and the lack thereof so many people these days show to others. I enjoyed her post so much, in fact, that I've decided to riff on it today on this, my Wildcard Tuesday.

This probably isn't anything you haven't already noticed, but nowhere is the widespread disrespect Zoe wrote about more apparent than on the streets and byways of America. When civilization completely breaks down, I firmly believe the fuse will be lit somewhere on the 405 freeway here in Los Angeles.

Angelenos treat the rules and regulations of the road like mild suggestions no one is really expected to take seriously. Funny, but when I read a "NO RIGHT TURN" sign, I take it very literally, while others...well, let's just say they must see some fine print on there somewhere that's invisible to me.

Here, then, are a few common road signs, and the ways they are interpreted by some of the numbskulls who risk our lives daily driving any damn well they please:

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "Make a half-assed effort to slow down momentarily, then watch for opposing traffic as you blow through the intersection."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "Park here only it you have a need to, and only for the amount of time it will take you to leisurely conduct your business."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "Please don't turn left here unless it would inconvenience you in some way not to do so."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "Right-of-way doesn't mean jack if you can't beat me to the spot, sister. Let's go!"

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "If they didn't want people making U-turns here, they would never have put this opening in the island. Besides, you're nuts if you think I'm going to drive a block out of my way to turn around legally, instead."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "Relax! I'm gonna run into the store, fill my cart to the max, than start a huge argument with a cashier when I attempt to get 68 items through the Express Line. Should only take me a minute."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "You say your lane's going away and you need to merge into mine? Sounds like a personal problem to me, pal. Get lost."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "If you watch for opposing traffic very, very carefully, and do it really quick, you should be able to continue on past this sign for another block or two to reach your destination. Beats the hell out of going around."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "First of all, I'm not stopping, I'm parking. Secondly, I left my kids in the car so you know I'm not going to be here long. And third, there's no place else to park that's not at least a block away and my damn feet hurt."

THE A-HOLE'S INTERPRETATION: "So I'm supposed to hang back and miss the next green up ahead just so some shmuck I don't know can make his left turn in front of me? I don't think so."

DAMN YOU, STEPHEN JAY SCHWARTZ!

crime writing, Gar Anthony Haywood, mystery, New Years Resolutions Comments Off

Jan 022013

by Gar Anthony Haywood

Actually, that blog post title's a little harsh, because all SJS did to deserve it was blog about New Year's resolutions here before I could. Oh, well. How about the next best thing, i.e., a list of all the things I resolve to stop doing in 2013?

Because the key to being happy and successful, it seems to me, is not only a matter of developing a host of new, constructive behaviors, but putting an end to those things we habitually do to sabotage ourselves. For instance, I am promising here and now that I will try my damndest not to do the following things in 2013:

- Procrastinate

Putting things off that need doing is a sure-fire way to guarantee they'll either get done poorly at the last minute, or won't get done at all. In 2013, I'm going to take care of business now, not later, no matter how boring or inconvenient it may be to do so.

- Make excuses

There are no doubt several reasons your latest manuscript failed to sell, or the last six agents you queried turned you down, but using them as a rationale for not working harder is a recipe for disaster. Nike may have turned the expression "Just do it" into the punch line of many a joke, but as a philosophy, it's sound as hell. Don't obsess over why you can't do something; just do the damn thing already.

- Work without a plan

Zoë touched on this subject last week, and it really struck a nerve with me. Creating a work schedule that you're absolutely, positively committed to following has always sounded to me like a great way to make widgets, not write a book. We creative types need to be free from such conventions, right? To do our best work, we need to allow it to come naturally, not in accordance to some predefined set of parameters.

At least, that's how I've been approaching my writing up to now, and the results would suggest it may be time to re-think things. Structure is not a four-letter word. Neither is discipline. Writing like a free spirit is okay if you're a poet with no career ambitions whatsoever, but if you expect to make a decent living as a writer, attention must be paid to output. This year, I'm going to write as if my life depends on my making a daily page quota --- because it just might.

- Devote more time to social networking than is necessary

Yes, I've made a lot of professional contacts and brought more than a few new readers into the fold via Facebook. But more than half my FB time of late is spent on highly entertaining nonsense, and that's time I can't afford to waste any more. In 2013, I'll continue to have a strong and regular FB presence, because dropping off the site completely would run counter to contemporary laws of productive self-promotion, but anybody expecting to find me "liking" this or commenting on that thirty-five times a day is destined to be gravely disappointed.

- Renege on any of the above

Making promises is easy. Keeping promises is hard. Highly successful people do what they say they're going to do, when they say they're going to do it.

You guys are my witnesses. If any of you catches me making a liar of myself, please don't hesitate to call me on it.

Happy New Year!

NEXT? YES. BIG? JESUS, I HOPE SO.

Bruce DeSilva, crime writing, Gar Anthony Haywood, Gary Phillips, mystery, next big thing, Paul Bishop Comments Off

Dec 052012

by Gar Anthony Haywood

You know how, when you're playing paintball (if you don't play paintball, just roll with me for a minute and pretend you do) and you're lurking around a corner, sniffing out the enemy, weapon at the ready, and you turn just three inches to your right and . . .

SPLAT! You're dead. Shot right between the eyes. And your first thought is, "Ugh. They got me."

Well, that just happened to me. They got me. Only in this case, it wasn't a paintball game, it was an email from Naomi Hirahara. Wonderful writer, wonderful friend. Who could have guessed she would draw me into participating in the latest self-promotional time suck known as "The Next Big Thing"?

By now, you have to know what this is (even though I somehow didn't), because even the lovely Zoe Sharp has done an NBT blog.

Here's the deal: I answer a bunch of questions about myself and my latest work-in-progress, trying to avoid coming off as a self-absorbed drone in the process, and then I point you to the blog sites of some other suckers, er, writers, whom I either honestly believe you should be reading, or simply found to be dumb enough to agree to be named when asked. I'll let you decide which of the two is the case, respectively.

So enough with the introduction, it's time to get on with the show. Remember: This wasn't my idea. I'm just going along because I'm a man of my word, and such a man never knows what will sell a copy or two of his books.

What is the working title of your next book?

GOOD MAN GONE BAD

Where did the idea come from?

This is the long-awaited (well, at least I like to think so) seventh novel in my Aaron Gunner P.I. series, and the genesis of the plot sprang from an epiphany I had while sitting on a crowded Los Angeles freeway listening to a police helicopter drone overhead. That's essentially how the book opens, with Gunner stuck on that crowded freeway instead of me --- and more than that, I'm not gonna tell ya.

What genre best defines your book?

Hardboiled detective, though I'd like to think the book is a little more complex than that label would suggest.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

As the character of Gunner is over 20 years old, the answer to this question is constantly changing. But as of this moment, I think the best fit for Gunner would be Idris Elba.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

In the wake of an apparent murder-suicide that claims the lives of his cousin Del Curry and Curry's wife, and leaves their daughter on the brink of death, Central Los Angeles private investigator Aaron Gunner tries to determine what chain of events led Curry to pull the trigger --- if in fact, he did.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

That remains to be seen, though it will certainly be shopped by an agent initially.

How long did it take you to write the first draft?

I can only wish I was finished with a first draft. A completed first draft is probably another five or six months away.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Can't think of any. I'm a complete original.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

It's been over 13 years since I last took Gunner out for a full-length spin, and I miss him. It was time to spend some quality time with him again.

What else about the book might pique the reader's interest?

Uh, good writing, hopefully?

And there you have it. My Next Big Thing. Curious as to what some other fine writers might be doing for their Next Big Thing? Drop in at the blogs of the following people next Wednesday, December 12, and find out. And by the way --- I was just pulling your leg earlier. All of these guys are terrific writers you should be reading right now, if you aren't already.

Bruce DeSilva

http://brucedesilva.wordpress.com/

Paul Bishop

http://bishsbeat.blogspot.com/

Gary Phillips

http://7criminalminds.blogspot.com/

(NOTE: Gary's NBT post won't run until Friday, December 14. Why? Because he's a contrarian, and who the hell is gonna argue with him, that's why.)

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