Stephen Jay Schwartz Archives

AND IN THE END

Abbey Road, Blogging, end of an era, mystery authors, Stephen Jay Schwartz, thriller authors Comments Off

Apr 192013

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

And in the end

the love you take

is equal to

the love

you make

These powerful words

from the Beatles

Their last statement, on their final album, Abbey Road.

Let it Be was released later, but recorded earlier.

Abbey Road, their final thoughts. Life and music and politics and love. Kinda like the final thoughts of a bunch of authors I know.

And what a beautiful, complex set of songs the Beatles left for us in Abbey Road. From the whimsical Octopus's Garden to the dark, atonal Because, and the long medley that begins with You Never Give Me Your Money and climaxes at The End, with wild tangents along the way, growing, evolving, escalating toward those final words, the words that sum it all up, that boil it down to the essential truth: "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."

Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

When I was in college, in music school, I used to skip my sight-singing & ear-training class and hide in the campus music library where I listened to Abbey Road, over and over and over again. Upon receiving my D in the class, my instructor asked me why I rarely showed up. I told him what I'd been doing. He stared into space for a moment, then nodded. "I can see that," he said. "You picked good teachers."

The Beatles were diverse, ever-changing, impossible to categorize, and full of surprises.

When I look at the seven-year life of Murderati I can't help but think about the music of The Beatles. Billed as a site where mystery-thriller authors marketed their books and shared stories about their adventures in publishing, Murderati grew into something more, a collection of diverse voices sharing their opinions on everything under the stars. Filled with surprises, Murderati was diverse, ever-changing and impossible to categorize. Exactly the kind of organization/disorganization I can relate to. And, like The Beatles, the members of Murderati are deliciously talented. I've sat amazed and overwhelmed by the insightful discussion I've read here. The dialogue and dialectic. It's the Algonquin Round Table of the mystery sect, and I feel fortunate and honored to have had a spot in the room.

I'm lucky I got in when I did, to have a few years to write my 111 blogs. A number, by the way, that has always been magical for me. Three ones. It has become a tradition in my family to wish each other "Happy Anniversary!" each time we see the clock change to 1:11. It began with my wife and I after we took a romantic trip to Santa Fe and spent an evening at Ten Thousand Waves in a hot tub under the stars. The number on the door to our private room was 111. The "Happy Anniversary" was our little ritual and it spread to the kids when the kids came 'round.

So, it's seems symbolic that my final blog for Murderati is 111.

I've always loved the fact that Murderati was a living thing, a place where artists moved into and out of. Authors came and went, but their words remained. It's refreshing to know that the words will always be there, archived, for us to reference years into the future. Murderati remains as a testament to our time, to the world of publishing as it was. It's a fascinating freeze-frame of the state of our art as things moved into the digital age. The excitement and fear of this moment are captured in our postings. Murderati exists as an historical reference to one of the greatest times of change ever experienced in the world of publishing.

I'm glad a number of past authors have come by to say goodbye. These are the folks who were here before and during my time, and I've missed their voices on the blog. It feels like a family reunion.

I only feel sorry that the site can't continue as it has these past seven years, so that current readers of the blog could experience the joy of becoming Murderati bloggers themselves. It seems unfair to them, most of all.

I will miss this place.

But it doesn't have to be so serious and sad. Even The Beatles, with their heavy message at the end, let us know that the final word, after the final word, was something else entirely.

Fourteen seconds after the end of The End comes the strike of a chord and the start of a silly little ditty called Her Majesty. A slap-happy, tongue-in-cheek drinking song that ends on the upbeat of an incomplete measure and reminds us that The Beatles, as deep and inventive as they were, simply wanted to have fun.

Because, if you're not having fun, what's the point?

I hope you've all had fun here. I have. I hope you've allowed yourself the opportunity to be silly and whimsical. I certainly have. Sometimes humor offers the greatest insight. After all, it's the flip-side of tragedy, and no one knows that better than the authors and readers of the mystery-thriller community.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the yellow submarine has arrived, and there's room for one more.

Happy Anniversary!

* * *

(Remember to pop by this weekend for postings by past-Murderati authors)

* * *

Oh, and if you're going to attend the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books at USC this weekend, I'll be moderating a panel called "Crime Fiction: Secrets and Spies" with Philip Kerr, Eric Van Lustbader and Tom Epperson on Sunday at 12:30. And I'll be signing at the Book Soup booth, also on Sunday, at 3:00 pm. Hope to see you there!

PENULTIMATE

murderati, Stephen Jay Schwartz Comments Off

Apr 052013

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

It's not quite the last but almost the last. It's the second to last. Penultimate.

I've always loved the word and yet never fully utilized it. Well, it gets its due today.

I was thinking about writing something entirely different. Something to keep us from dwelling on the fate of Murderati.

Then I thought, no.

Let's talk about Murderati. It doesn't have to be sad. It can be nostalgic.

I don't know what I'll write about next week, in my ultimate blog entry. I'll save that for next Thursday night. I hope I leave something to be said.

What I can say now, what I want to say now, is that I'll miss this place. It's been very, very good to me. My entire author journey began here and a good part of the reason my opinion means something somewhere is due to the fact that I have a platform here on Murderati.

When I started on Murderati, when JT asked me to split her time, when Alex and Brett and others voted to bring me on, I wasn't even published. I was set to be published and the above-mentioned authors had read and blurbed my ARC. But no one knew who the hell I was. So I had about three full months to do this thing called "blog" before Boulevard was released. And that blogging helped create a fan base for my work that resulted in some pretty hefty pre-sales numbers. I remember one comment I received on Murderati - still a month or so before my release date. The commenter said, "If Schwartz's novel is as good as his blog I'm going to love it!" Murderati gave me a community before I even entered the scene.

And, along the way, Murderati created some amazing opportunities. The PR person for James Ellroy's TV show found me and Allison Brennan through Murderati and invited us both to join Ellroy on his bus tour of historic, L.A. crime scenes. We spent three hours in a bus with fifteen journalists (we were the only authors) while Ellroy led our private tour. I was also invited to speak at the Omega Institute by an administrator who read our blogs. I've been invited to speak all over the country by readers who found my voice through Murderati.

I've met heros and personal saviors through Murderati as well, like Allison Davis, who helped me out of a serious bind when I was caught between jobs, and Toni McGee Causey, who recently arrived to help me through yet another fine mess I found myself in. Murderati brought me together with my old friend and past college RA Brett Battles, who became quite the mentor during my debut year.

Murderati has also allowed me to celebrate the work of some very good artists through Wild Card Tuesday interviews. I've introduced friends like film director Blair Hayes, film director Kevin Lewis, author Sean Black, photographer Eraj Asadi, film and TV manager David Baird and many others to our unique readership. I hope in some way these interviews have benefitted them, as they've certainly benefitted us.

I've also had the opportunity to work alongside such wonderful, wonderful, talented individuals as David, Gar, Zoe, PD, Alex, Pari, Martyn, JT, Brett, Dusty, Rob, Tess, Alafair, Cornelia, Jonathan, Toni, and the lovely Louise. And not just the other authors, but the readers, too. Reine, Lisa Alper, KD, Larry Gasper, Richard Maguire, Shizuka, Sarah W, Allison Davis, Fran, Stacy, Stephen D. Rogers, Philip, Lil, Susan Shea, Susan from SF, and so many others...I apologize if I didn't include everyone's name. You guys have been my sounding-board and first-responders.

Murderati is also where I've done some of my very best work. It has allowed me to stretch my fingers a bit, to write outside of the "dark, sex-addicted homicide detective" box. Here I can be fun, playful, autobiographical, snarky, and sometimes downright silly. I've had the opportunity to explore the growth of my children and to celebrate the daily wisdoms they pass my way. I've explored my attitude towards society and examined the weight it brings on the writer's soul. Murderati has been my soap box and forum. Overall, the exercise of writing two blogs a month has made me a better writer. I really can't thank you enough.

And yet, the blog has blogged me down, too. It comes down to available time. Juggling a day job, a family, various writing projects, and running from the law takes most everything I have. Sometimes I have to choose between writing my book and writing my blog, and that's when it gets tough. I have so little time for creative endeavors, I've got to make each moment count. Of course, now I won't have any excuse not to write another novel. Hayden Glass Part III, coming your way.

And so....it wasn't an April Fool's joke after all.

I love you guys...I'll be here until the end. I'll save the tears for my final blog, Friday, April 19th. See you then.

WHY I LIKE WRITERS

Career paths, Stephen Jay Schwartz, Workplace rivalries Comments Off

Mar 082013

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

Before I became an author and joined the community of authors I felt very much alone. Not so much in college, where I shared the artist dream with a community of dreamers who dreamed big because, well, they were in college and the world held so much possibility. No, it came after college when the dream began to fade, when the priority was to support first myself and then myself and my family through a variety of day jobs that others called "careers."

I watched as my college peers took their own deconstructive paths, becoming car salesmen or temp workers or salesmen of one sort or another. I was the long hold-out for a long while, finding employment "within" the industry, in marketing and distribution at Disney Studios, in film development for Wolfgang Petersen. I seemed to be succeeding, but I wasn't living my dream. I was still doing the "day job" while writing the dream at night and on weekends. The development gig was so invasive that I finally had to give it up. In roughly five years as a development executive I didn't get any significant writing done. I had to leave the "creative" job and find a "normal" day job so I could create some time to write. Because, in the end, that's what I do. I write. Writing is my career, even if it doesn't pay my bills.

It took a lot to give up that high-profile film job. I had to really come to terms with what and who I was, and what the ultimate cost would be if I didn't make the time to write. I had to realize that the ups and downs of the film business meant nothing to me. My head was somewhere else.

My head was in the story. The story that began when I woke up in the morning and paused when I went to work. The story that resumed after 5:00 pm and escalated into the night, until sleeping paused it again, or rather, shifted it into another gear, because dreaming was another form of writing. The story dominated my weekends and paused again at 9:00 Monday morning.

Why I like writers is they're like-minded.

At all the day jobs I've had I've witnessed the petty machinations of office politics at work. It seems the more people involved in the process--customer service, inside sales, accounting, engineering, technical support, shipping--the more opportunity there is for back-biting, gossip and general chaos. People seem to need drama in their lives. People seem to need to be seen and heard and voice their opinions when their feelings are hurt, and then step on toes to assert their dominance. It's high school all over again. It can be a full-time job just keeping up with who has the power and whose favor must be curried to stay in the game.

I've never participated in such office politics. It's a drain on my creative energy. I don't need the drama, because the drama is waiting for me when the work day is done. It's on the page. It's real drama, life-and-death drama, and the best thing about it is no one gets hurt.

Writers have more important things to do than dwell on their workplace version of Game of Thrones. And I think that tends to make us targets at the office. Because we won't play the game. We're outsiders, by definition. We sit on the outside and observe human behavior and translate our observations into believable, fictional characters. And sometimes we exact our revenge on characters who closely resemble characters in our daily lives, in our daily jobs. But it's a private victory, and no one gets hurt.

The authors I've met since being published have instilled in me the confidence that I lacked when I was merely the "weird writer guy" at the office. I didn't know a single author before I was published, and now I know thousands. It's a community that gives me strength. I realize that I'm not the lonely dreamer, that there are tens of thousands of us, and each and every one has had to find his or her own way in a world where success is measured in dollars earned.

Writers live in the present and the future simultaneously. We sit at our computers presently, writing the story that will find it's time in the future. We do our daily jobs in the present, but write an insurance policy for future happiness, when the book comes out and our dreams become reality.

Maybe the people who sit bickering at their day jobs, who ally themselves with others against a common enemy, who devour a co-worker's reputation through continued picking and pecking, maybe these people see their day jobs as careers, and the hopeless realization of this truth is simply too much to bear. It would be too much for me. I, too, would be angry if I had to give up the dream. Because most people, when they're kids, dream big. They want to be astronauts or firemen or super heros. When they become the tech support guy or customer sales associate for this or that company and realize that the road to NASA is closed, well, it can be a bitter pill. Then every little upset that occurs in the course of their day means the end of their world. Often they choose to bring others down with them, especially those who haven't yet learned to let go of their dreams.

A writer's world never ends. There's always another story to be told. We'll never live long enough to tell the stories we have to tell.

Our stories are simply more important than the workplace dramas that consume those around us.

And that's why I like writers.

SELLING OUT

Clapton, Stephen Jay Schwartz, The Doors Comments Off

Feb 222013

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

I grew up in the Seventies and in the Seventies artists didn't expect to get rich being artists unless the artistic value of their work was magically discovered by the world or they did what most artists would never, ever consider doing: sell out.

Selling out meant they went commercial.

I remember my first encounter with the concept. It was in 1988, when Eric Clapton played "After Midnight" in the famous Michelob commercial that turned many of his fans against him. What was he thinking? Did he really need the money? Didn't he have any integrity? These were the questions people were asking at the time.

I remember the scene in the movie The Doors. Jim Morrison came back from one of his black-out drinking binges to discover that the rest of the band sold the rights for "Light My Fire" to a car commercial. Jim was incensed. How could his bandmates have sold out like that? Nowadays, most bands would kill to sell their music rights to a television commercial.

The late Sixties, the Seventies. Antiestablishment years. Us against the man. The Man, represented by the cops, the politicians, and corporate America.

The Eighties saw the rise of a different kind of attitude. In the movie business the corporations took over and started developing content. Star Wars and Jaws began the trend, while films like Flashdance sealed the deal. Gone were the days of Apocalypse Now and Midnight Cowboy. At some point, making a big, popular movie wasn't considered "selling out," it was considered "making it."

I'm not sure artists struggle with the concept anymore. I don't hear people complaining about how their favorite musician, film-maker or author "sold out." The only guy that comes to mind for me is Kenny G, who I mentioned in my last blog. He went from being a brilliant, unknown jazz fusion artist to a hugely successful brand name, playing simple, sappy elevator music for the masses. I really don't believe he was playing the music he loved, I think he was playing the music that sold. In my humble opinion, of course.

I suppose it's really up to the artist involved. If an author writes a purely commercial novel that he hates to write, just so he can widen his readership and make some money, has he "sold out?" Or has he simply given himself some breathing room, so the next time he can write the "special" novel that may or may not have a chance at gaining commercial success?

I tend to think that most authors I know write exactly the type of novels they want to write. Some try different genres in an effort to gain a foothold in new readership, but I don't know if they see themselves as "selling out" when they do this.

Most authors I know just want to write for a living. They'll write anything and everything in an effort to turn that dream into a reality. I do, however, know an author who turned down a high-paying ghostwriting assignment because the employer was a highly-annoying radio talk show host who didn't share the author's political views. I don't know if the author would have considered himself a sell-out if he'd taken the job; I think he just realized that the money wasn't worth the headache it would cause.

Personally, I'd love to only write books that I'm passionate about writing. I was passionate about writing Boulevard and Beat. When my agent told me to write a "bigger book," something more "international in scope," I struggled to find my way. It felt like I was trying to write for the market. And no one can predict the market. It felt like I was writing Hollywood screenplays again. I had to come back to myself to determine what I really wanted to write, something that may or may not be considered commercial or marketable. I only have so much time to devote to my writing and, in the end, I want to know that I really love what I've written. Maybe this is what keeps me from getting those juicy ghostwriting gigs. Not that I wouldn't take them--because it's work and I want to be a working writer. But if ghostwriting doesn't pay enough to quit the day job, if all it does is take time from the projects I love, well, I'd rather let those opportunities go. I'll keep the boring day job and write passionately, for myself, after hours. I guess these are the choices we make. As far as "selling out," I don't think I've found myself in a position where I can make a choice either way. I first have to establish a career from which to sell out. I'm working on that.

So, what do you think? Are there any authors, painters, dancers, musicians, actors, or film makers that you feel "sold out" in order to advance their careers? Does it even matter?

FACING THE MIRROR

Stephen Jay Schwartz, Top Ten Life Questions, Wild Card Tuesday Comments Off

Feb 122013

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

It's always good to do a little self-reflection now and again. I decided to Google questions about life, something to get me thinking about my priorities and how they've changed over the years. I found this little ditty on a site called TottalyTop10.com, under the title, Top Ten Questions for Discovering Your Life Purpose.

Q: If failure or money were not an issue, what would you do?

Schwartz: This is a great question because it removes the two biggest obstacles that keep us from following our dreams - fear of failure, and the fear that we can't make a living doing the things we want to do in life.

When I was younger I would have answered that all I want to do is direct films. Now I'm not sure I'd want to play the Hollywood game, even if I could afford it. As they say, it's lonely at the top. That said, I wouldn't mind being an actor. I mean, if it were handed to me. If I didn't have to suffer for it, year after year. And if I could act.

But the thing I long for, the thing that would provide me with a real sense of completeness...I'd love to work with gorillas in a nature preserve designed to help reintegrate them into the wild. I'd do the same with orangutans and Bonobo apes (the Bonobo is probably the smartest ape you'll ever see, and the closest relative to humankind, sharing more than 98% of our DNA). All I ever really wanted to do as a kid was hang around animals. At my core, that's still all I want to do. However, I don't want to be murdered by poachers and I don't want to see the wonderful animals I care for murdered by poachers and I'm not really sure I want to live in Rwanda or the Democratic Republic of the Congo. So, what I'm really looking for is a gorilla sanctuary located in Palos Verdes, California.

Q: What do people compliment you on or say you are good at?

Schwartz: Communicating. Whether in writing, on the phone or in person. It spills over into the arts as well - communicating through music, writing and film making. I guess I love people about as much as I love animals. I've always loved hearing peoples' stories and discovering the details of their journies through life.

Q: What do you enjoy doing in your free time?

Schwartz: Reading books, watching movies. Hanging out with my wife and kids. Going to dog parks - sometimes I go to the dog park without my dog, just to watch and play with other dogs. Everything is great until the dog owners realize I don't have a dog in the park. And then they give me the "weird" look.

Q: What do you like learning about?

Schwartz: Science. From astronomy to String Theory. I also like learning about peoples' lives through reading biographies and watching documentaries, or through direct interviews. And I do like history, which is really like saying I'm interested in everything that's ever occurred in human existence.

Q: If you could teach something, what would it be?

Schwartz: It seems the obvious answer is that I would teach creative writing or screenwriting. There was a time when I wanted to do that. But not so much anymore. I wouldn't mind teaching Literature - basically turning people on to some of the great writers of our time. Sharing my passion for the discovery of great minds through great story-telling. But I'm kind-of tired of talking about three-act structure and character development. I don't want to examine the process anymore - I just want to enjoy the results.

Q. What things make you feel happy and good about yourself?

Schwartz: Spending time with friends, which I hardly ever do anymore. But I remember my days in college - the best times I had were the all-nighters with friends, screaming passionately about films, books and politics. I think this is why I'm so drawn to the Beat Generation writers and the artists of the Lost Generation. They talked and talked and talked and created and dreamed and it was all so vibrant.

Q: In what areas do people seek your counsel?

Schwartz: I'm usually asked to help resolve conflicts between others. I was the VP of Sales and Marketing at my last job and I travelled a lot. When I came back in town and went to the office the employees would put a sign on the door that said, "The Doctor is In." I was the only guy who would listen to everyone and try to resolve their interpersonal problems.

Q: What would you regret not doing at the end of your life?

Schwartz: Ain't that a tough one. I would regret not living in Ireland for a few years. I would also regret not living in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I would regret not working at that gorilla sanctuary. I might regret not doing at least one sky dive, unless of course that sky dive is the very last thing I do in my life.

Q: What do you value in life?

Schwartz: My family. They are the most important thing in my life. My writing and film career used to take priority over my family and, over the years, I've made an effort to change that. Now family comes first, even if it means I don't get as much writing done as I used to. I can always write when my kids are in college. If I miss these crucial years with my kids it'll be "Cat's in the Cradle" for the rest of our lives.

Q: What causes or beliefs do you feel strongly about?

Schwartz: I'm not a big joiner of causes. I don't like much of anything if it's organized. And yet some really good, charitable work is done through the efforts of others and organizations that exist. I support Best Friends Animal Sanctuary and I'm behind the actions of Captain Paul Watson and the Sea Shepherds. I still feel like there's a lot more I can do to get involved in charitable works. I mostly just subscribe to the dictum, "Can't we all just get along?"

Pretty good questions, eh? How would you answer them? Go ahead, give it a shot.

FYI - I'm on the road today from 5:00 am to 6:00 pm and I won't get a chance to respond to comments until early evening. But don't let that stop you from speaking your mind. I'm looking forward to reading your answers tonight.

UCK MANGIONE

jazz, Sound Warehouse, Stephen Jay Schwartz Comments Off

Feb 082013

by Stephen Jay Schwartz

As I look back I remember it as an idyllic time. Nineteen eighty-one. I was seventeen and working at the largest record store in Albuquerque.

Sound Warehouse was the coolest place in town and you couldn't even think of getting a job interview if you didn't know someone. I didn't know a soul and there was nothing useful I could put on my resume. Until then I'd only had a few jobs: working with Arabian horses when I was thirteen (and by "working with" I mean shoveling horse manure and doing embarrassing clean-up chores after breedings that would haunt me forever), a summer landscaping job (still have my herniated disc from swinging a pick-ax into hard concrete and carrying 200-pound railroad ties) and one eight-month nightmare as a waiter for Bob's Big Boy (the previous jobs were a dream compared to this).

Sound Warehouse gave music-lovers the same feeling book-lovers get when they go to Powell's Bookstore in Portland - rows and rows of classic vinyl (before it was considered "classic"), foreign special editions, laser discs, New Wave, rock, acid rock, experimental. It was big on popular rock, but all styles of music were represented. There was even a large, glassed-in section for classical purists and, as a customer, I often hid there to escape the cacophony of life and soothe my own teenage angst.

There weren't really specialists at the store. Just the classical guy, who'd been there for a decade. The rest of the employees catered to what was hot in the rock scene. Every high school kid who could carry a tune wanted to work there. The competition was fierce for a new guy without any references.

I took a different tack. I targeted their lonely jazz section and told the manager that, if he gave me a job, I'd build it into an enviable collection. This was before Kenny G single-handedly turned jazz into the syrupy, elevator goop we hear today. At the time, Kenny G still played for The Jeff Lorber Fusion, a kick-ass fusion band with chops. When I was in college I saw Kenny perform with Jeff Lorber in Dallas at the Kool Jazz Festival and he was nothing short of brilliant. A few years later he became the Pied Piper of sap, forcing the death of hard-core fusion under an avalanche of C-grade "soft" jazz artists.

In 1981 the jazz scene rocked with new music from innovators like Chick Corea, Weather Report, Return to Forever, Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, The Dixie Dregs, Jean Luc-Ponty, The Brecker Brothers, Spyro Gyra, Manhattan Transfer, John McLaughlin, Pat Metheny, Dexter Gordon, Jan Hammer, Jeff Beck, Keith Jarrett, Chuck Mangione, Gary Burton, Tom Scott and the L.A. Express, George Benson, David Sanborn...and so many more. I'd been introduced to this music by my high school jazz band instructor, who boasted a huge collection of the above and would play these records on a classic Bang and Olufsen stereo system which he babied like a baby, only more so.

Unfortunately, Sound Warehouse wasn't begging for a "jazz guy" to come onboard. But I figured it gave me an edge, or at least something to differentiate me from the other high school kids who dropped their applications at the front counter every day.

I targeted the manager responsible for writing the work schedule and hassled him every week. And always the same response - "Try again later."

Finally the day came when I had to quit stalling. I picked up an application for McDonalds and prepared myself for the worst senior year I could imagine.

Although I'd been disappointed every time, I decided to swing by Sound Warehouse one last time before making the fast-food commitment. The moment I stepped in the manager looked up from his paperwork and said, "I think I can use you." I'll always remember those words, because they saved me from the embarrassment of working for McDonalds. (However, in college I broke down and took a job at Jack-in-the-Box. Never say never, I guess. I still can't say I'll never be a minimum-wage fast-food worker again - I am a writer, after all).

I began the job the very next day.

Over the months that followed I used my employee discount to build a personal jazz collection that rivaled the ever-growing jazz section I managed at the store. At that time I was dating a girl who performed in her high school's modern dance ensemble. She was always looking for unique music to set their routines to. I volunteered to schlep my giant stereo and speaker system, along with a hundred or so albums, to her school where I introduced the girls to the kind of music they never would have heard on the radio. I think they settled on Kraftwerk and Manheim Steamroller as the soundtrack to their state championship dance routine. Suddenly, I found myself popping up at the different high schools around town to "do my thing" for the modern dance troupes, drill teams and cheerleading squads. What a perk!

I worked at Sound Warehouse for over a year, chalking up loads of memorable experiences. Like the night Lisa, my manager, encouraged me to try Skoal. I liked the buzz until the retching began. I spent the next three hours with a paper bag taped to my mouth. Or the time she accidentally kicked the silent alarm switch under the cash register and the parking lot filled with members of the Albuquerque Police Department, their guns drawn. I answered the phone to the voice of a police negotiator saying, "Send one representative into the parking lot with his hands in the air..."

The place was filled with the drama of young love, fast cars, faster music, alcohol and pot. It was "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" with a time-clock. It would've been "Footloose" if any one of us could dance.

Sound Warehouse also subjected me to my first polygraph test. It was discovered that the Ticketmaster cash register had been relieved of a couple dozen concert tickets and everyone was a suspect. Bigwigs from the corporate office in Dallas showed up to polygraph all twenty-five employees, including the managers. They never discovered who took the tickets, but they were surprised by the amount of slippage that occurred in the form of pens, pencils, t-shirts, pins, and other merchandizing paraphernalia.

Every night at closing we played touch football, knocking over cardboard displays and racks of cassette tapes. The ceiling was probably three stories high and the walls were filled with giant styrofoam images of musical artists and band logos. The company actually employed an artist who designed and cut the styrofoam images using a specialty heating tool and a selection of spray paints. One of these giant renderings featured an image of Chuck Mangione playing his trademark flugelhorn. Beneath the image was his name, in bold, green letters.

A week before I left for college, a week into my two-week notice, our nightly football game resulted in a direct hit on the Mangione display. A large, styrofoam "Ch" fell from the sky.

The temptation was too, well, tempting.

I slipped into the artist's work-space and disappeared from the scene. I rummaged through discarded sheets of styrofoam until I found a usable sample. I plugged in the heating rod and let it warm up. I cut a jagged form and softened the rough edges with a piece of dull sandpaper. I shook the spray paints, tried a few greens until I found the one that was used on the sign before.

I dragged the largest ladder in the building to a spot under the broken display and climbed to the top. I carefully glued my work of art into the space where Chuck lost his "Ch."

I did all this under my manager Lisa's watchful eye. She was a Southern rebel, a lesbian Texan who didn't mind kicking the establishment in the balls. She was taking a risk, but she knew that life was short and it didn't pay to play by the rules. And, personally, I think she was pissed about having to take that polygraph test along with everyone else.

"Fuck Mangione" stayed up for two full weeks before Lisa's nerves got the best of her.

And yet no one noticed a thing. It even survived a surprise inspection when the company bigwigs came into town. Lisa watched as their eyes scanned the store, gazing past my work and settling on the Ted Nugent display to its right.

That night, she dragged the ladder under the display and removed the "F." She placed a work order with the company artist for a new "Ch" and things were back to normal the very next day.

Was it all so fun because I was young and stupid, or was it all just so fun?

THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT

Short Stories, Stephen Jay Schwartz Comments Off

Jan 252013

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

So, I've been reading short stories lately. Hundreds of them. All contemporary, mystery-thrillers. I'm judging another competition, so I'm deep in it.

I kind-of forgot about the short story format. Like many of you, the short story is where my writing career began. It started with "Sammy the Dinosaur," the four-page story I pecked out on our Selectric typewriter when I was eight years old. "Sammy the Dinosaur" was new and original to me, though I've heard that there was some other series with the same name that preceded me. My wife mentioned this recently, saying she assumed I stole the idea from the original author. This is simply not the case, however. When pressed, she softened her accusation, suggesting that my eight year-old mind was merely susceptible to ideas originated by others and that I imagined the story as my own. What she doesn't know is that "Sammy" was the name of every pet I had as a child. Every fish, whether it was a beta or catfish, was "Sammy." For a short time I had a salamander named Sammy. "Sammy" actually became something of a cursed name, since each fish never survived more than a month and the salamander disappeared after a massive, New Mexico dust storm lifted its cardboard home into the sky.

After the salamander debacle I began naming my pets with "B" names, a tradition that continued all the way to our recently deceased (seven years ago) dog Bandit and ultimately to the names of my ultimate pets, Boulevard and Beat.

It started with my first bullsnake, which was given the amazingly original name, "Bull." The snake was a gift from my father, who brought him home to face the violent protests of my mother and sister. My dad held his ground and, for this, I gave him the honor of choosing its name. My father was a doctor and this moment proved that he was a man of great skill and no imagination. "Bull," he said. "You know, for Bullsnake." As though it needed an explanation.

Ultimately I had four bullsnakes: Bull, Belle, Billie and Bess. Bull was the only male in the group, so the rest was his harem. I had other pets during this time, too. They were the mice my snakes didn't eat. It was weird, but if a mouse looked at them wrong, or if one accidentally kicked a snake in the jaw before the fatal strike, the snake turned tail and ran. The mouse went from pastry to pet.

I've been a vegetarian since I was seven years old, so feeding mice to snakes became pretty hypocritical after a while. One day I tried to get Bull to eat an egg. I dropped the egg out of the familiar "feeding container" (a Folgers Coffee can punctured with air holes) and watched as the snake crawled OVER the egg to get a better view into the empty can. I then had the bright idea of picking up the egg and dancing it around the cage so that it would appear "mouse-like." Needless to say, my hand became that night's meal.

When I got older I bought an iguana. Because iguanas eat salads.

It's time to stop this tangent. We were talking about short stories.

After "Sammy the Dinosaur" I graduated to long form. When I was fourteen I wrote my first screenplay, with my writing partner Seth Gardenswartz. Together we were Schwartz & Gardenswartz Productions. He wanted us to be Gardenswartz and Schwartz Productions, but I told him it sounded clunky. Schwartz & Gardenswartz worked because it was "two Schwartzes separated by a Garden." It took a full afternoon to convince him that my intentions were good and that I wasn't trying to steal the spotlight. Finally, he agreed. I remember snickering softly, within earshot, "My name is fi-irst, my name is fi-irst..."

So we wrote that screenplay, a sci-fi thriller called "Battle of the Gods." Written in long-hand, because neither of us typed. We gave it to my sister, who turned it into a typing class pet project. It came back as a 65-page paragraph. Really. All the dialogue, descriptions, name slugs, transitions, everything, wrapped into one gigantic paragraph. Thanks, Sis.

High school was four years without thinking about stories or writing. High school was four years of thinking about girls. I can't remember if I read a thing. Wait, there was Steinbeck's "The Pearl." I remember hating it. They could have at least assigned Nabokov's "Lolita."

College came around and I started reading, and appreciating, good writing. The first writings that caught my attention were short stories. Flannery O'Connor. Katherine Anne Porter. "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall." Fantastic stuff. And then there was Hemmingway, and "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber."

And Amy Hempel. My God, have you read Amy Hempel?

Stories by Bernard Malamud. Stories that lit the fire.

After college I got lost in screenplays, writing at least ten feature scripts before ditching the film world to set my sites on the novel. I began by tackling the short story. I wrote seven or eight pieces that I kept to myself. Just getting used to the process. Then I dove into long-form with my first novel, Boulevard.

And now I'm studying the short story. Again. A good short story is a whole little novel in an itty-bitty space. I'm more intimidated now than ever. I've been asked to contribute to a short story collection for Red Hen Press, with some pretty impressive authors in the mix. I'm trying not to let it scare me. But it does. I've gotten used to the long format and, as exhausting as it is to write a novel, at least I have the comfort of knowing that I'm never really expected to finish one. Then there's that great surprise at the end, when I actually do finish. (I assume I'll experience that feeling again, someday). But these short stories...geez, there's simply no excuse to not get one done.

I guess it's fortuitous that I'm judging a short-story contest the same time I'm supposed to write a story for publication. I'm learning what works and why. And what doesn't work, and what to avoid.

Short stories open a whole new world for me - at their best they're magnificent dishes meant to be consumed in one sitting, yet remembered forever for their satisfying taste. At their best they influence our styles and give us something to emulate. And, as authors, they give us an opportunity to experiment with different styles and points-of-view and tense, without committing our careers to the kind of "risky" change that scares agents and editors. And, if a new style works as a short story it might signal a new direction for the course of our books. Or it might signal exactly what we shouldn't do in our books; the canary in the coal mine. Something to think about.

What are your favorite short stories? Which ones have influenced your style? Do you prefer writing short stories or novels? Do you prefer reading short stories or novels? Why?

STIRRINGS…

Stephen Jay Schwartz Comments Off

Jan 112013

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

Oh, I'm up. It's my turn again. Blog Time.

Blog Time ain't exactly Miller Time, you know, where the point of the thing is to kick back and relax, raise the beer to the lips and press "play" on the remote. No, Blog Time requires effort. It requires that I have some kind of opinion on some matter of the day that means something to someone, including me.

Maybe I've said everything I have to say. Did you ever consider that?

No, that's ridiculous. I'll never have said everything I need to say. Although there's still a chance I could make that move to Tibet, don the orange jumpsuit and meditate my way to Nirvana. And if there ever comes a time when you don't hear from me, that's a good place to look. It sounds oddly comforting - no Facebook, no outward communication, no blogs. I remember studying Japanese literature and religion in college and I was struck by one faction's belief that the only purpose to life was to meditate oneself to a higher plane. Something like that - I mean, really, do not quote me on this stuff. But part of the discussion was that the poet or the artist should remain silent, too, because to engage in writing poetry or doing one's art is an act of selfishness that ties one to the flesh. That is, it is a projection of self into the world. Why write poetry or anything if not for the satisfaction it brings us when others read our words? So, it comes back to self, ultimately. I'm sure David Corbett will have something to say about this - in fact, I invite him to jump in now and finish my education on the subject. Because, as we know, a little education is a dangerous thing - and I've only had a little education here.

Still, the concept strikes me as truthful, the concept that the writing is meant to fulfill a sense of self-satisfaction. Not that that's a bad thing - do it if it makes you feel good. But so much of the time I see people writing in an effort to get "successful" or "famous" or to finally "get respect" from others. And, I admit, that's been a big motivator for me, through the years.

But all along there's been that nagging thought, that voice from my Japanese Literature and Religion class saying that the purpose of life is to focus on elevating our connection to the universe through meditation, and that even the act of writing is something that distracts us from this goal. It kind of freaks me out, that this should resonate with me. Because I don't want to stop writing. I've always felt that writing is at the core of me. It's my essence. So, why do I entertain this notion that writing is a masturbatory process? Was I just in a really susceptible place when I took that class? Corbett, help me out here.

My relationship to writing has changed over the years. I sacrificed everything so that I could produce writing that would get me that recognition, that "respect." Is it worth it? Was it worth it? Yes, for me, in my experience, it was. However, I've had to do some repair work in its wake - I've made a point of spending more time with the family I ignored while I wrote those books and screenplays. I left the day job and spent a year writing at home so I could really be with them. But dwindling finances required a return to the work-force, which put me in the tough spot of having to prioritize my time again, which in the past has meant that the family gets the short end of the stick. And now I'm not willing to drop those precious relationships back to the third-tier, behind the day job and writing.

I no longer need to prove anything to myself. I no longer need to win an Academy Award, or to have the most successful book series in publication. These things would be nice, but I no longer live for them.

Instead, I've grown to appreciate this ability to express my views in writing for its own sake. The ability tell a story. This, in itself, is a prize. And I know that I can tell a story when the time for telling stories presents itself. I've discovered, in the process, that I'm a different kind of writer. I'm not a one or two book a year guy. I think my agent discovered this long before I did.

I think of all the experiences in life I've missed by sitting at a desk writing about the experience of life.

I wonder if it's in me to sit silent and watch the world move about without the narration of my words. Maybe, someday. But I doubt it. I think I'm the guy who steps back and observes, then jumps in and produces, then steps back and observes. I've always been a sprinter, not a long-distance runner.

It's nice to know the mountain is there. For the day I have nothing to say.

Which isn't today.

See, I found something to blog about.

The Wildcard Tuesday New Year Interrogation

Alexandra Sokoloff, Allison Brennan, Brett Battles, David Corbett, Gar Anthony Haywood, JT Ellison, Martyn Waites, P.D. Martin, Pari Noskin Taichert, PD Martin, Stephen Jay Schwartz, Tania Carver, Tess Gerritsen, Zoë Sharp Comments Off

Jan 012013

Zoë Sharp

The first moon of 2013

Welcome to the first Wildcard Tuesday blog of 2013, and an enormously Happy New Year to you all. For this I asked a few lighthearted questions of fellow ‘Rati past and present, and below are their answers. I hope you find them worthy of a giggle.

(As a small aside, I started off searching for sensible author pix, but what I’ve actually ended up going for are the silliest pix that came up on the first page of a Google Images search on that author’s name.)

ALLISON BRENNAN

Where did you choose to celebrate the holiday season this year?

Home, as usual.

What would have been your ideal location?

Home! (Though, I would have liked to have gone to Disneyland right after Christmas ... maybe next year!)

What was the best—or worst—gift you've ever received?

My husband once gave me an electric grout cleaner. Needless to say, I never used it.

The best—or worst—meal or item of food you've been served—or served to others?

The absolute best Christmas dinner we've had was when I decided to cook prime rib instead of the standard turkey or ham. It was pricey, but oh-so-delicious! I think that was back in 1997 ...

What's your idea of the Christmas From Hell?

Traveling for Christmas.

Looking back, what was your favourite moment from 2012?

Watching my oldest daughter graduate from high school—and hearing her and the Seraphim Choir sing the National Anthem. They were amazing.

I'm not going to ask about New Year's resolutions, but do you have one ambition, large or small, you'd like to achieve in 2013?

Walk daily, meet my deadlines, don't sweat the small stuff.

And finally, what book(s) have you brought out this year?

Two Lucy Kincaid books from Minotaur/SMP—SILENCED and STALKED; a short story in the anthology LOVE IS MURDER; an indie published novella MURDER IN THE RIVER CITY.

And what's on the cards for the early part of 2013?

A Lucy Kincaid novella in March (RECKLESS), and two more book STOLEN and COLD SNAP. Plus a short story for the NINC anthology and maybe another indie novella. If I have time.

DAVID CORBETT

Where did you choose to celebrate the holiday season this year?

Home alone, if "choose" and "celebrate" are the correct verbs. Mette arrives on the 28th, so things should get merrier at that point.

What would have been your ideal location?

Buenos Aires. Ireland. A beach in Mexico.

What was the best—or worst—gift you've ever received?

Best gift I ever "received" was one I gave. As a gag gift I bought my late wife a red flannel union suit with a button seat flap that she absolutely loved. Slept in it all the time. Cozy as hell. Damn, she was happy.

The best—or worst—meal or item of food you've been served—or served to others?

When I was a kid one of my classmates' families came over during the holidays and brought cookies that literally made me gag. I picked one up, sniffed it like a cocker spaniel, recoiled, and put it back. My brother started bellowing, "You touched it, you have to eat it." Unfortunately, King Solomon (my father) agreed. I almost upchucked trying to get it down.

What's your idea of the Christmas From Hell?

Oh, let's not go there.

Looking back, what was your favourite moment from 2012?

A weekend in San Antonio for the wedding of one of Mette's dearest friends, when I got introduced to the inner circle. Also, the moments when I read the cover quotes I received for THE ART OF CHARACTER. I was incredibly humbled and grateful so many writers I respect said so many kind and generous things.

One ambition, large or small, you'd like to achieve in 2013?

Make the new book a success, and wrap up the novel I'm working on to my own persnickety satisfaction.

And finally, what book(s) have you brought out this year?

Open Road Media and Mysterious Press re-issued all four of my novels in ebook format in 2012, with a brand new short story collection titled KILLING YOURSELF TO SURVIVE.

And what's on the cards for the early part of 2013?

The new book, THE ART OF CHARACTER, comes out on January 29th, 2013 from Penguin.

ALEXANDRA SOKOLOFF

Where?

New Orleans.

Ideal location?

It's hard to top New Orleans.

Best/worst gift?

Well, there's this pretty spectacular amethyst necklace...

Best/worst food?

I've served many a bad meal to others. For everyone's sake I stopped trying to cook long ago. Personally I don't care much what food gets served, but I do remember one Christmas morning in London with blackberry jam on waffles and whisky for breakfast. The blackberry jam ended up all sorts of places and it was all very lovely. I could do that again.

Christmas From Hell?

It's hard to narrow that down, actually. Endless scenarios spring to mind. I hate being cold, though, so winter is perilous.

Favourite moment from 2012?

For public consumption, you mean? The general reader response to HUNTRESS MOON has been a real high.

One ambition in 2013?

I'd like to find a really wonderful place to live.

Books this year?

My crime thriller HUNTRESS MOON, a boxed set of three of my supernatural thrillers called HAUNTED, a novella called D-GIRL ON DOOMSDAY in an interconnected anthology with three other dark fantasy female author friends: APOCALYPSE: YEAR ZERO. And I got several backlist titles back and put them out as e books at wonderfully affordable prices: THE UNSEEN, BOOK OF SHADOWS, THE HARROWING and THE PRICE.

And for 2013?

The next book in my Huntress series comes out in late January: BLOOD MOON. My next book in the paranormal Keepers series, KEEPER OF THE SHADOWS, comes out in May.

I'm selling my house in January and buying another as soon as possible, probably in California.

PD MARTIN

Where?

Every year we have Christmas Day at our home (in Melbourne) and then go down to the Mornington Peninsula (seaside) for most of January. It's the hottest time of year here in Oz, so it's great to be near the beach. We stay in a 1970s holiday house my grandparents bought in 1972, and given I spent summers down there as a kid it's particularly special to now be going down there with my children.

Ideal location?

The Peninsula is pretty good :) Although we've always said that one year we'll do a white/winter Christmas in New York or something.

Best/worst gift ever received?

Best gift I ever received was actually for my birthday this year—my Kindle. I'm a complete convert to the point where I can't imagine ever reading a 'real' book again. I prefer the Kindle reading experience for some reason.

Best meal?

I am biased, but I make a mean Tira Misu. I got the recipe from a chef and it's divine! And great because you make it a day or two before, so it's one thing to cross off the food preparation list early.

Christmas From Hell?

Mmm....I guess having to run around. You know, multiple visits. We do that a bit on Christmas Eve, but I enjoy the fact that then on Christmas Day we just kick back. We start with oysters at midday, then it's prawns (yes, on the BBQ), then an Asian style salmon fillet dish then Tira Misu (at about 4pm). Then a movie!

Favourite moment from 2012?

That's easy for me—picking up our son, Liam, from Korea and making our family of three a family of four :)

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

I've got a few books I'd like to finish. And hey, a best seller or a lotto win wouldn't go astray either.

Book(s) this year?

THE MISSING (two short stories), WHEN JUSTICE FAILS (two short true-crime pieces), HELL'S FURY (new book in spy thriller series), and two novels for younger readers that I've released under the pen name Pippa Dee—GROUNDED SPIRITS and THE WANDERER.

What’s next?

Probably what I've been doing the past few months—juggling motherhood and writing...and feeling like I'm going to crack under the pressure!

JT ELLISON

Where?

Nashville and Florida.

Ideal location?

A family trip to Italy would have been fun.

Best gift you've ever received?

I got engaged during Christmas 1994, so that ranks up there....

Worst meal?

Italy, Cinque Terre, a large full fish the size of a cat, with its baleful eye staring up at me... I swear the thing was still breathing. Ugh!

Christmas From Hell?

There's no such thing. I love Christmas.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Seeing my DH in his gorgeous new kilt for the first time. *fans self*

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

I want to learn how to paint. In oil, large canvas abstracts.

Book(s) last year?

A DEEPER DARKNESS, EDGE OF BLACK, STORM SEASON

And for 2013?

Writing, writing and more writing. Deadline January 30!

MARTYN WAITES (half of Tania Carver)

Where?

At my in-laws. The kids wanted to go to see all their cousins. They love a big family get together. As for me, I'm pretty bah humbug about it. I don't care where I go or what I do or whether I get any presents or not. As long as I get to see Doctor Who, I'm happy.

Ideal location?

Somewhere abroad. Morocco would be good. If they were showing Doctor Who.

Best/worst gift ever received?

I've been lucky enough to get plenty of presents. I can't think of specifics in terms of best or worst, but for me the worst kind of gift is the thoughtless kind that someone has put no effort, time or care into. The best ones are the ones you absolutely want. Even if you don't know you do until you get them. I was lucky enough to get one of those this Christmas.

Best/worst meal?

At Christmas? It's all the same. I'm not a fan of Christmas dinner. Or any roast dinner for that matter. I eat it, but that's because it's what you do at Christmas. Like getting into water and swimming. The best meal I was ever served was at a Persian restaurant in Birmingham in 1988. It involved chicken and pomegranates and I've never tasted anything like it to this day. The restaurant disappeared soon afterwards in a kind of Brigadoon fashion and I sometimes wonder whether I actually went there. As for bad food . . . loads. In fact, it probably outnumbers the good food. That's why I try to remember the good ones.

Christmas From Hell?

Being forced to spend time with people I hate. That goes for the rest of the year as well. And not seeing Doctor Who.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Well, I wrote about my favourite cultural things on the last Murderati post—Y Niwl and the Hammer films retrospective—so they would be there in a big way. But other than that, it was something very small and personal that I'm afraid I couldn't share and that I doubt anyone would be particularly interested in.

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

I do. I can't say anything about it in case I jinx it, but it will be the culmination of a lifetime's ambition. Or at least I hope it will.

Book(s) this year?

CHOKED, the fourth Tania Carver book came out in September in the UK. THE CREEPER, the second one, came out in the States. There have been other editions round the world and I think Russia finally got round to publishing my 2006 novel, THE MERCY SEAT.

And 2013?

Finishing the new Tania, THE DOLL'S HOUSE, which I'm uncharacteristically quite pleased with. Although it could all go horribly wrong. And then there's the afore(not)mentioned secret project . . .

GAR ANTHONY HAYWOOD

Where?

At the family's new home in Glassell Park, which we moved into in October.

Ideal location?

At the family's new home in Aspen, Colorado, which doesn't exist.

Best/worst gift ever received?

The best was a dictionary. It was given to me many years ago by a wonderful woman who at the time was my mother-in-law to be. She knew I was an aspiring writer and gifted me accordingly, which, oddly enough, no one in my immediate family had ever thought to attempt before. I still own that dictionary, too.

Don't get me started on the worst gifts I've ever received.

Best/worst food?

The best, far and away, is the egg nog my godfather makes over the holidays. It tastes great and man, does it have a kick to it.

Never been given a fruitcake as a gift, and I pray I never am.

Christmas From Hell?

I think I actually experienced it last year. Attended the worst Catholic midnight Mass possible: cornball music, pointless sermon, and theatre lighting (the service was being video-taped) that would make a mole cover its eyes. Awful.

Favourite moment from 2012?

The family's spring break vacation in the Galapagos. Unbelievable!

One ambition for 2013?

Completion of a manuscript that a conventional publisher buys for a tidy sum.

Book(s) last year?

Didn't have a book published this year, though my Aaron Gunner novels were re-released as e-books by Mysterious Press/Open Road.

And for the early part of 2013?

Early? Maybe my first book for middle-graders, which my agent is shopping now. Later in the year? With the grace of God, a publication deal for my first Aaron Gunner novel in almost 10 years.

STEPHEN JAY SCHWARTZ

Where?

Stayed at home with the wife and kids—enjoyed the beach and the beautiful Southern California weather. Played Scrabble and hung out in cafés. Enjoyed a big meal of matzoh ball soup and tofurky.

Ideal location?

Ireland. Clifton or Dingle, to be precise.

Best/worst gift ever received?

I haven't paid attention to holiday gifts for a long time. I think the worst gift I ever got was for my bar mitzvah—it was a belt buckle. No, actually, perhaps the worst was the beer stein my father gave me for my high school graduation. This, instead of the car I had my eyes on.

Best/worst item of food?

Probably that tofurky we had last week.

Christmas From Hell?

Again, tofurky takes the price.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Seeing my son come back healthy and happy after a two-month hospital stay in Wisconsin.

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

Main ambition—work to live a creative life, 24/7.

Book(s) this year?

Move along, nothing to see here.

What's on the cards for the early part of 2013?

Move along, nothing to see here either...

BRETT BATTLES

Where?

The first half I spent in a hot, tropical location with my feet in the water, a beer nearby, and a Kindle in my hand; the second half at home in L.A. with my kids, my parents, and my sister and her kids.

Ideal location?

Nailed it this year.

Best gift ever received?

This year I got the complete set of Calvin & Hobbs from my parents. It was perfect!

Best food?

I made a pretty awesome ham this year that was juicy and delicious. Hmmm, I'm craving leftovers right now!

Christmas From Hell?

Not being able to spend time with my family.

Favourite moment from 2012?

It was a pretty good year all around, so one event...? Going to San Diego for a week with my kids and parents was pretty damn fun!

One ambition for 2013?

Just more of the same ... write, travel, and spend time with friends and family.

Book(s) last year?

2012: THE DESTROYED (Quinn #5), PALE HORSE (Project Eden #3), THE COLLECTED (Quinn #6), and ASHES (Project #Eden #4)

And for 2013?

At least four more novels (hopefully five), including a secret collaboration I can't quite talk about yet.

TESS GERRITSEN

Where?

At home. With family.

Ideal location?

Exactly the same place.

Worst gift you've ever received?

An orange pantsuit. I mean, really. My husband has not bought me anything orange ever since. (I’m guessing it didn’t look like this, then, Tess? ZS)

Best/worst meal?

For Christmas? Not one bad meal sticks out. On Christmas, everything tastes wonderful.

Christmas From Hell?

Being stuck in an airport. Far from family.

Favourite moment from 2012?

Standing on the Great Wall of China, with my husband and sons.

One ambition, for 2013?

To finally plant a vegetable garden that the deer can't demolish.

Book(s) out last year?

LAST TO DIE was published this past summer.

And what's on the cards for 2013?

Early 2013, I am headed to the Amazon River.

PARI NOSKIN TAICHERT

Where?

At home in peace. No requirements, no expectations. I just let myself be.

Ideal location?

The only other place I can imagine being this calm and relaxed would be Antibes . . .

Best gift?

Probably the best gift I've received so far is an essay my younger teen wrote about a difficult incident we shared last year and how it has taught her empathy. Made me cry, it touched my heart so.

Best/worst meal?

The best meal remains one brunch I had in Puerto Rico: fresh flying fish brought in that morning from a catch in Barbados, steamed bread fruit, Barbadian yellow hot sauce, fresh mangos picked minutes before from a tree just steps from where we ate.

Christmas From Hell?

I think it would be one filled with efforts to make it perfect, so many efforts that they'd hit the tipping point and tumble down to the other side of happiness.

Favourite moment from 2012?

The one where I finally realized I'm going to be all right, that the trials of this last year may continue . . . but they're not going to pull me down into the depths of despair anymore.

One ambition, large or small, for 2013?

Yes.

1. I'd like to e-publish the book that "almost" sold to NYC. It's the first in a new series and I'd like my character to meet readers and vice versa.

2. To continue to explore my creativity in whatever ways it's now manifesting, to give myself permission to let it fly.

Book(s) last year?

Nothing in 2012. I've been in hibernation for many reasons including the whole copyright issue and the divorce.

And for 2013?

To begin writing again and to enjoy it . . .

ZOË SHARP

As for me, I also spent Christmas this year with my family, which was where I wanted to be.

My ideal would probably have been a ski-in/ski-out chalet somewhere with plenty of snow. Not necessarily for skiing, but definitely for sculpting. I never did get to finish that Sphinx …

As for my ambitions for 2013, to find a life/work balance and to continue to improve my craft.

And books? In 2012 I brought out two e-boxed sets of the first six Charlie Fox novels, plus several short stories, and of course, DIE EASY: Charlie Fox book ten.

In 2013, DIE EASY is hot off the press in the States. I’m also editing two new projects—a supernatural thriller called CARNIFEX, and a standalone crime thriller called THE BLOOD WHISPERER, as well as working on the first in a new trilogy, the first in what I hope will be a new series, a novella project I can’t say too much about yet, and—of course—Charlie Fox book eleven. That should keep me going for a bit :)

So, it only remains for me to wish you all an incredibly Happy New Year, and to thank you for your comments and your feedback during 2012.

I AM RESOLVED

New Years Resolutions, Stephen Jay Schwartz Comments Off

Dec 282012

By Stephen Jay Schwartz

As 2012 rolls to an end I find myself contemplating plans for surviving 2013. That might not be the best way to look at it - surviving, as opposed to conquering the new year, or simply relaxing and enjoying it - but experience has taught me that survival comes first.

That's dramatic, of course. I'm really doing much better than surviving, especially when compared to about 98% of the world's population. Living basically middle class in Southern California, despite the small apartment and a mountain of debt, is a huge life achievement.

Things were a bit scary around this time last year. I had left my day job to write the-movie-that-seems-never-to-be-made and tackle my third novel, the-book-that-seems-never-to-be-finished. The screenplay money didn't last, and soon my savings ran out, and the panic set in.

With a family of four to house and feed, I went into survival mode. It was a tough time and help came from friends both near and far. One woman in particular jumped in to make sure my rent and utilities were paid while I searched for the job that would keep me afloat. Paying her back remains on my "resolutions" list to this day.

2012 was also a year of health challenges, as one of my sons required medical treatment in another state and was required to leave our home for two months. While it was difficult to see him go, the moment revealed itself as the resolution to a problem that had been growing for years. His departure and treatment marked the beginning of what has become the best thing that ever happened to the Schwartz Family. We are reunited and healthy, and close, and thankful.

So I've been in this day job for almost eight months and it feels good to be paying my way, to be standing on my own two feet again. The only great challenge ahead is to find a way to manage the demanding day job, the precious family time (which I refuse to sacrifice), and still be a productive author, screenwriter, and poet.

And while it's been great being a judge for two major writing competitions this year, I've learned that a commitment like this means something has to give, and unfortunately what gave was my writing. In the future I'll have to be more protective of my time, because, as writers, time is our greatest resource.

As I look towards 2013, I make the following resolutions:

Learn to say no. Protect my three major objectives: work, family and writing. Don't commit to anything if it derails any of the three.

Write the next Hayden Glass novel. Commit to it. Finish it.

Finish the standalone project. No excuses.

Save a little money every month. Build a safety net.

Similarly, put some money into paying down the debts I've accrued. Don't be a dependent, don't be a flake.

Look around. Keep looking for a way to support myself as a creative individual, 24/7. I shouldn't have to live two separate lives.

Don't live beyond my means.

Plan for a future as a working writer. Write spec TV episodes in an effort to get staffed on a show.

Work out at the gym with Ryen and the boys. Get the body I had when I was nineteen.

Stay connected to my wife. We're taking this journey together.

Don't dwell in the darkness. Remember that things are good. Stay positive and appreciate what I've got.

Read more Bukowski. Read more Updike. See more movies. Return to my roots.

And, if there's time, pick up that saxophone and wail.

That's about all I can think to write. What are your resolutions for the new year? Care to share?

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