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Catching up, giving back, giving up

by Donna

I've been catching up on my email. I get behind on email during the final throes of meeting a book deadline.  Actually, I get behind on a whole lot of things, but the email bothers me most, because email’s supposed to be fast.  Almost immediate.  And feeling on the hook for an immediate response to every single request anyone sends you isn't good for a writer on a deadline.

So since I'm about to dive into revisions, I'll probably procrastinate for another week or two on some of the stuff piled up in my email inbox.

Maybe after I turn in my book, I'll figure out what to say to the teenager who asked me to tell her how she can become a writer.  It would never have occurred to me, at thirteen, to write to an author asking how to follow in her footsteps.  I don't know whether to admire her initiative or throw up my hands in dismay: does she realize what an enormous question that is? Helping her out would be a lovely thing to do, but I have no idea what to tell her, apart from "read and write as much as you can."  And attempting to write a thoughtful, useful, helpful answer would take time.  Like an hour or two.  So I just put out a feeler to one of my writers' lists, asking if anyone knows a book or website I can recommend.  And if no one has one, maybe I'll write an answer when I have the time and turn it into a page on my website, so the next time I get a query like this, all I have to do is say, "look here!"

I don't seem to have any "How can I find an agent" queries in my mailbox right now, which is a pity, because they're easy to handle.  I blogged about the subject for the Femmes Fatales a while back.  When I think of something I didn't already cover, I'll revise the text of my blog and create a page about agent-finding on my website.  For now, I send people to the blog entry.  Is this impersonal? Yes.  But people who ask me that question get an answer that contains my best advice on the subject, and they usually get it pretty quickly. If they had to wait until I had time to write a thoughtful, helpful, personal email . . . I don't know how long they'd have to wait. I'm not sure I want to know how long the thirteen-year-old's email has been waiting.

And I also have a request from someone to read her unpublished manuscript.  I've been procrastinating about finding a gentle way to say no.  A lot of writers I know have blogged about why they don't read unpublished manuscripts or posted something on the subject in their FAQs.  That's probably in my future.

"What?  You don't read unpublished manuscripts?"  Of course I do.  I belong to two critique groups and run an open writing group at my local bookstore.  I do teaching sessions and panels at conferences and libraries.  I'm co-editor of an anthology series.  I've occasionally judged contests. I already read a hell of a lot of unpublished manuscripts. But I only get 24 hours in my days, same as everyone else, and taking on more just isn't doable.

Writer Laura Resnick has a fabulous section for writers on her website.  I particularly like her FAQ, which not only lists why she doesn't read unpublished manuscripts but links to explanations by John Scalzi, Orson Scott Card, Robin McKinley, David Gerrold, Tess Gerritson, and Jennifer Roberson.  Maybe until I get my own page written, I should just send people these links.

And I know, once I put up that helpful, informative page politely declining to read anything anyone wants to send to me and suggesting helpful alternatives, some people will put me into the category of writers have become too concerned with their own careers to help others.  I've seen discussions on this very subject erupt into flame wars on several listservs that include both published and unpublished writers.  "Published writers have become selfish.  They are no longer interested in giving back to the community."

"Giving back."  It has become almost a cliché.  But clichés often become clichés because they express exactly how we all feel in a given situation.  Yes, those of us who have succeeded in getting published often feel that we want to give back something to the community.  To pass along to the next crop of aspiring writers some of the help and wisdom we received when we were aspiring writers.  

Problem is that all too often what we want to--or can--give back isn’t what many aspiring writers want to receive.  Maybe this is a new development; maybe it’s always been that way.  

What is definitely a new development is that published writers are more accessible than they’ve ever been before.  We have emails on our websites; we participate in lists; we post on blogs like this.  Someone who wants to ask us to do something can probably find us. And more and more, aspiring writers find us with questions and requests.

And we do what we can.  If we're smart, we do it after we've done our own writing and taken care of the business of our own lives.

I could go on, but I've got revisions due in a few weeks, some work to do for MWA and Sisters in Crime, and a couple of stories to read for tonight's writing group meeting at the bookstore.

DOES ANYBODY REALLY KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?

by Hank Phillippi Ryan

 

It’s a semi-annual (does that mean twice a year? Or is it biennial?) struggle. My brain simply will not handle it. Spring forward, fall back, yes, I understand that part. Every fall and spring we change the clocks here on the east coast in order to—what? Make it lighter in the morning and darker sooner? Whatever. I just can’t comprehend it.

 

My brain has fogged over this issue for years. I once anchored the weekend news in Atlanta, where we also switched to daylight savings. (Or something.) The weather guy turned to me on the anchor desk, and said, all serious, “Remember, Hank, this is the night the time changes.”

I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. “Well, actually.” I said. “The time doesn’t really change. The time stays the same. It’s a continuum, and the time just keeps relentlessly going. But WE change. We change the clocks. But the time, well, that stays the same.”

 

The next day I got called into the General Manager’s office. What was that time stuff all about? he asked. He was not happy. I tried to explain the time continuum to him, but he did not care.

“Listen,” he said. “That was ridiculous.”

 

(And then he said, and I promise you this is a direct quote.)  “You’re gonna have to practice your ad libs.”

It’s not just the clock change thing that flummoxes me. It’s time zones. 

 

There was the time my cat was at the vet. I was supposed to call the vet by 6 pm to get the update on Lola’s condition. But there had been breaking news, and by the time I was off the air, it was past 6.

 

Rats, I thought. I’ve missed talking to the vet. But then, I realized I had a solution. I thought  “My boyfriend is in California. And there it’s only 3 pm! So HE could call!”

It took me a few moments to realize the flaw in that. 

 

And now , today, we change the clocks. At least, some of them. I’m even more completely confused, because the automatic clocks, the ones connected to the computer and the cable TV, change themselves. (Don’t they? What time is it now, anyway?) The battery-operated one in my bathroom and the antiquated one on the oven, I have to change myself.

 

But then there was the year that my husband changed all the clocks. But I didn’t know that. So I decided to change them, too. Which I did. So that made us two hours off. Behind. Or ahead. Or maybe we were the same.

 

I have no idea.

 

Is this a problem of Einsteinian  proportions? Or is it just me?

Gaining Something in Translation

by Toni L.P. Kelner

Today I got copies of DTV's German translation of Wolfsbane and Mistletoe, edited by Femme Charlaine and myself. (And including stories by Femmes Donna and Dana.) Or should I say Werwölfe zu Weihnachten. Except that "Werwölfe zu Weihnachten" doesn't actually mean "wolfsbane and mistletoe." It translates literally to something like "Werewolves at Christmas."  My story in the collection is "Keeping Watch Over HIs Flock," but the German version is "Denn siehe, er hütet seine Herde," which translates literally to "for behold, he guards his flock."

Looking at this, it strikes me how difficult a job translating a piece of fiction must be. It's never going to be an exact translation because the phrases just won't mean the same thing in both languages.  Take the title Wolfsbane and Mistletoe.  I don't really know why they didn't literally translate it, but I can make some guesses.  Maybe the idea of wolfsbane being associated with werewolves isn't common in German.  Maybe mistletoe isn't associated with Christmas.  Or maybe both words have other associations in German.  Or maybe it's just a matter of taste--German audiences don't like titles with "and" in the middle. 

Then there's the title of my story, which is based on a verse from the Book of Luke: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night."  Except that's the King James version of the Bible, and I have to wonder if the DTV translator used the same verse as it is used in German Bibles. Or maybe it just has the same resonance.

Other titles in the anthology must have been just tricky to translate.  Nancy Pickard had "You Better Not Pyout," which is a funny title if you know the song "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," and how a Russian accent sounds to American ears. Does "Besser nicht schmjollen" have the same humor value?

And that's just the titles! How could they translate references to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the Salvation Army, KY jelly, and Waffle House? My mind just boggles.

I admit I've never given a lot of thought to how much work translation would be, but I should have. After all, I remember from my days as an English major one of Goethe's claims to fame was his translation of Shakespeare's works. More recently, at Bouchercon in Indianapolis a few weeks ago, the late author Stieg Larsson won several awards for his book The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which was originally translated in Swedish as Män som hatar kvinnor, which is literally "men who hate women." At both ceremonies, the translator came up to the stage to be recognized, and rightfully so.

So let me take a moment to salute the translators of the world. And a particular shout-out to the translators who worked on Wolfsbane... I mean, Werwölfe zu Weihnachten:  Barbara Ostrop, Christine Blum, Britta Mümmler, and Ute Brammertz. Danke schoen!

Some Danger Involved

This morning I finished reading an excellent book, SOME DANGER INVOLVED by Will Thomas. If I had to come up with a blurb for the book cover it might be, "Like Sherlock Holmes only much better."

 

As I write, that looks like blasphemy. Arthur Conan Doyle's special writing style is such a joy to read. No one can top it. There's no doubt that his creation is one of the most beloved characters in all of fiction. Perhaps a more accurate blurb would be, "If Doyle was alive and writing today, and had read modern action adventures and watched lots of action movies, his books might be very much like SOME DANGER INVOLVED." Not very pithy, but you get the idea.

Will Thomas didn't try to re-create or improve Sherlock Holmes. What he did was take elements that readers loved about the Holmes books and came up with new views and a new feel of London in the 1880s. It helped that Mr. Thomas is an expert on Victorian novels. But for me, the success of this book is in some of the other writing choices he made, things that we writers may already know but could revisit every now and then. 

The Trusty Sidekick - It took Watson to appreciate Holmes for the superior human he was. Readers wouldn't have appreciated their escapades so much if Holmes had been the one to tell us what happened. Thomas used this well with his narrator, Thomas Llewelyn, a young Welshman down on his luck, who tells the story of how he came to work for the pre-eminent private enquiry agent of London.

The Intellectually Superior Detective - Llewelyn's boss, Cyrus Barker, has brains like Holmes and like him, his world travels deepened his intellect. Thomas goes farther and gives Barker extensive defensive capabilites and a background of poverty and struggling to survive, with both things making him a stronger and more life-like character.

Start When The Action Begins - A book doesn't have to begin with gunfire or explosions or a body smacking the floor within the first few seconds. But it does need to start when the first thing relevant to the rest of the book happens. Here, the story opens with Llewelyn standing in line for a job interview at Barker's house. While there we learn a lot about him, his abilities, and a bit about why he needs this job.

Keep It Moving - In Conan Doyle's day, he had the leisure of padding stories with long descriptive passages. Thomas manages to capture the feel of the time period in his dialog and descriptions without getting all flowery. He takes no side trips but keeps the action moving. More important, he keeps the story action in focus. Don't lose your readers with paragraphs about other fascinating trivia that isn't in the line of the forward movement of your story. 

Surprise And Delight - Throughout the book, Barker and Llewelyn uncover new, interesting places and people. I found these especially delightful. Even minor characters without much page time can be made useful and memorable with a little extra thought. Don't rely on a quirky characteristic or two. Thomas uses his knowledge of the Jewish community in London at the time and creates people of different backgrounds who broaden the story, so much more than cut-out stereotypes.

I hope you'll give this series a try. And while I'm in a Holmes mood, I have to also mention two other authors who give the great detective a spin:

  Lyndsay Faye's novel DUST AND SHADOW is a terrific debut. Holmes and Watson help Lestrade to find Jack The Ripper. Don't let the Ripper put you off. Faye stays true to Conan Doyle form and does an excellent job.

 

THE BEEKEEPER'S APPRENTICE is the first book in one of my favorite mystery series. Laurie King is a master storyteller who has made Holmes more fully himself. These books are told by Mary Russell, first his apprentice and later his wife. A must read series.

Femmes rock Indy Bouchercon!

posted by Dana

As Donna mentioned last week, there was a flock of Femmes at Bouchercon—six out of the eight of us!  We covered a lot of ground and had more fun than humanly possible and are here to report. 

Hank will set the stage for our adventures:

Hank:
Bouchercon Day One:  It was 8am in Indianapolis, and felt to us East Coasters like 7 am. Because Indy is close to the central time zone, the mornings are really dark!   But the opening session was full of delighted Bouchercon newbies, eager to meet and greet and get the scoop. My assignment –welcome the group to the convention.  (The amazing Kaye Barley was my room captain; how lucky can I get?)  The wonderful Lynn from the organizing group gave a PowerPoint what-where-when presentation to make sure Con-goers got to the right place at the right time—and then she introduced me for the rest of the program! What could I do?  I  remembered my first Bouchercon—overwhelming. Huge.  Intimidating.  And what I wished someone had told me. So I offered my five Bouchercon secrets—ending with the promise of Bouchercon Magic.

And throughout the rest of the convention, people came up to me and told me the wonderful thing that had happened to them—as promised! So that was my Bouchercon magic—getting to hear everyone’s wonderful stories.

Now. Cue the Jaws music…I was the moderator of a panel called “What do you need to know to write a crime novel.”  Fun, huh? Well, the panelists I was supposed to moderate” were the incredibly talented Gary Phillips and David Fulmer, David Levien (who wrote the screenplay for “Ocean’s 13” and “Runaway Jury” and two acclaimed thrillers) and Harlan Coben.  Who some of you may have heard of.  I burst out laughing when I got the assignment—and decided it needed more the talents of a wrangler than a moderator. The SRO audience was enchanted, and the panelists were fantastic—hilarious and very wise. And they only got out of hand a few times.

Quick scenes: Chatting with the lovely (and iconic) Sue Grafton, and then Sara Paretsky.  The wonderful tea given by Sisters in Crime—with Haviland china and finger sandwiches,  and a charming panel  (including our own Charlaine) on library memories. Molly McRae wrangling me and fellow panelists as we revealed the pitfalls of writing about those like ourselves! Lee Child’s elbow-to-elbow party at a downtown club—raucous rock and roll and talking til my voice gave out.  Cheering for Dana’s wonderful win!  Meeting so many people I knew only from the internet—there was always a moment of name-tag recognition and I’d want to hug them—then I’d realize, I don’t really know you! I just know you from on line.

It was my birthday! And my dear mom and sister sent a HUGE cake! So Sunday morning, as conventioneers were lining up for the book fair (what a crush!) my cake got wheeled out into the lobby, and everyone sang Happy Birthday! How hilarious is that? And I cut the cake. Yes, it was 9am, not a usual chocolate cake time. But it was all part of the Bouchercon magic.

Donna: 
On Thursday I enjoyed the SinC librarian tea, since I was at a table that included not only a wonderful group of librarians but also fellow Femme Charlaine and the  delightful Katherine Hall Page. That evening I did a signing at the Greenwood, Indiana Barnes & Noble, along with Chelsea Cain, William Kent Krueger, Louise Penny, and Wendelin Van Draanen. The staff and readers in Greenwood really know how to show visiting writers a great time.

On Friday, I did a meet and greet at the Mystery  News/Mystery Scene booth. Alas, this was my last chance to do so, since Mystery News is ending publication. Many thanks to Chris Aldrich and Lynn Kaczmarek for ten years of wonderful coverage of the mystery field. (If you missed their interview of me in the August/September 2009 issue, you can order a back issue!) And let's all support Mystery Scene, CrimeSpree, The Strand, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock mystery Magazine, and any others I'm forgetting, so they'll stay around.  Friday evening I attended the tenth anniversary party for Minotaur, the St. Martins mystery imprint. My panel was on Saturday--the humor panel, with Chris Grabenstein, Harley Jane Kozak, and ace moderator Alan Gordon. Alan's a fellow member of the Wolfsbane Pack--the contributors to Wolfsbane and Mistletoe--as well as the author of a series I wish I'd  thought of (the Twelfth Night series). And Saturday evening, Chris Grabenstein and I had a lot of fun as auctioneers and helped raise $8800 for Indy Reads, an adult literacy program. In short, a busy and enjoyable Bouchercon indeed!

Mary:
Jim Huang and company put on such a great con in Indy. The funniest event was the charity auction, where Femme Donna Andrews and Chris Grabenstein had the audience in stitches with their unusual ploys to elicit higher bids. My best star-struck moment was meeting idols Liza Cody and Sara Paretsky. If there had been an award for Best Comedy Routine, it would've gone to SJ Rozan for her opening remarks at the Anthony Awards. What a delight. As always, the real draw for Bouchercon is knowing I'll get to spend quality time with friends I don't see often. I'm already looking forward to next year!

Charlaine:
This was definitely an excellent Bouchercon. Well-organized, great location, interesting panels . . . and NO BANQUET! I was the host of a group of 12 people as part of the MWA Hot Ticket programming. People put their names in to be in your group, and their names were drawn at random to determine who got to come. Two other writers came in before the designated Hot Ticket person, and they got to pitch their stuff briefly. Then the Hot Ticket host came in and sat with the group, and they talked about whatever came up. In my case, the group had questions about my work in particular and my writing methods, and they were all a pleasure to talk with. I was on the “Paranormal” panel with Carolyn Hart, Deborah LeBlanc, and Heather Graham, and it was moderated by Judy Clemens. It was really a standout panel, because we are all such different writers. “How I Met My Protagonist” was a lot of fun, too. Maybe the most entertaining (because it was the least pressure) was the Liars panel, ably led by champion liar S.J. Rozan. I’ll have you know I was the second-to-best liar, and I really think I deserved the replica NYC police car that went to Ed Lin. I was robbed!  Our own Dana Cameron was an able liar. Eric Stone, however, must have looked unreliable to the audience. They seemed to think he was not telling the truth, no matter what he said. It was a good way to end the conference.

Toni:
I'm trying to decided my favorite Bouchercon moment.  Seeing Dana win the Macavity for Best Short Story was definitely a high point.  Then there was the party with the Charlatans, Charlaine's devoted fans, and breakfast with the Mystery Babes.  My short story panel was great fun, with excellent panelists and sharp moderating from Simon Wood.  Several of the others I saw were just as entertaining.  The Anthony Awards ceremony was particularly posh this year--instead of a hotel banquet, it was held in a theater with a reception afterward.  I loved the Book Bazaar--I understand it was awfully crowded for those getting books, but it sure did my heart good to see people eager to get copies of my latest.  But when it comes down to it, the best part of Bouchercon was seeing old friends--Femmes Charlaine, Dana, Donna, Hank, and Mary among them--and talking to them about books and the book business.  The fact that these encounters often took place around food and/or drink is purely a coincidence.

Dana:
Without echoing precisely what the Femmes have already stated, B’con Indy was  a blast!  It seemed that there was always at least three things going on I wanted to check out—the mark of an excellent conference.  Thanks, Jim and the Bouchercon organizers.  Thanks especially to the members of Mystery Readers International and Janet Rudolph for honoring my short story, “The Night Things Changed,” with a Macavity Award.  I was, as we say Nawtha Boston, wicked surprised and wicked happy.  I can’t wait to hold it in my hot little hands!

I had two panels, which were huge fun.  I adored the short story panel for the Anthony nominees (including Femme Toni), because I love talking to writers about writing.  The second was the liars panel, hosted by my Evil Twin, S.J. Rozan and featuring Femme Charlaine.  Not only did S.J. do a boffo job wrangling us unreliable types, she killed as toastmistress at her interview and the Anthony Awards.  I was able to see Donna, Hank, and Mary briefly, as we all tore around the hotel, and was able to catch up with the Charlatans and Mystery Babes—the best part of any event.

And now I turn it over to you, gentle readers:  What was your favorite Bouchercon experience?

The Femmes do Bouchercon

by Donna

This weekend in Indianapolis, Indiana, a rare event occurs: six of the eight Femmes Fatales are not only in the same time zone but in the same city and the same hotel. 

Bouchercon, the world's largest annual mystery convention, is named after Anthony Boucher, a distinguished writer and critic of mystery and speculative fiction.  (Just for the record, Boucher rhymes with voucher.)  Every year the convention moves to a different city.  Last year, Baltimore.  Next year, San Francisco. But this year, the week, Indianapolis.  Can the city survive hosting Donna, Dana, Charlaine, Toni, Hank, and Mary?  Maybe it's a good thing Elaine has a book deadline to meet and Kris a bookstore to run.

Here's a rundown on what the Femmes Fatales are up to during our long weekend here in Indianapolis.

Thursday

At 8:15, Hank Phillipi Ryan is celebrating her return to her hometown by sponsoring the welcome to Bouchercon coffee.  So if you're at the convention, come chat and get the scoop on what to do and where to go. She's bringing free books and other goodies! And of course, coffee.

At 1:15 Hank will join Andrew Peterson and Jeremiah Healy as part of the CONTINUOUS CONVERSATION, which starts every day of the convention at 9 a.m., with one writer departing and another arriving every fifteen minutes.

At 4:30, Donna Andrews, Toni Kelner, Hank, and Mary Saums are attending the Librarian's Tea, sponsored by Sisters in Crime, at 4:30 on Thursday. (Librarians are always high on any writer's list of favorite people.)

At 6 p.m., Toni and Dana will be attending the presentation of the Barry, Macavity, Derringer and Crime Spree awards--they're both nominated for the Macavity Award for best short story.

And at 7 p.m. Donna will be joining Chelsea Cain, William Kent Krueger, Louise Penny, and Wendelin Van Draanen at the Barnes and Noble at Greenwood Park.

Friday

Hank and Mary will be up in time for the 7 a.m. Sisters in Crime breakfast.  Maybe some of the other Femmes will, too. (Donna hopes to be still snoozing.)

At 9 a.m. Toni and Dana will appear on the Short, Dark, and Good Reading panel, moderated by Simon Wood, and featuring Sean Chercover, Jane K. Cleland, and Kristine Kathryn Rausch, their fellow  featuring the nominees for the 2009 Anthony award for best short story,

At 3 p.m., Charlaine Harris will be on the HOW I MET MY PROTAGONIST panel with Julie Kramer (moderator), P.J. Parrish, Barry Eisler, and Martyn Waites.

At 4 p.m., Donna will be doing a Meet and Greet at the Mystery News booth in the dealer's room.

At 4:30, Hank will be on a panel called YOU TALKING ABOUT ME? The advantages and dangers of modeling characters on self, family, and friends, with Molly MacRae (moderator), Ken Isaacson, C.J. Lyons,  and Twist Phelan,

At 5:30, Hank will be attending the Indiana Author's party at the Marion County Public Library.

Saturday

At 1 p.m. Hank will be moderating WHAT DO YOU NEED TO KNOW IN ORDER TO WRITE A CRIME NOVEL? --with Harlan Coben, David Levien, David Fulmer, and Gary Phillips.

Also at 1 p.m. is Mary's panel, Geezer Lit, with Mike Befeler (moderator), Chester Campbell, Naomi Hirahara, and Patricia Stoltey.

At 2:30, Donna will be on THE HUMOR PANEL, moderated by Alan Gordon and featuring Chris Grabenstein, Harley Jane Kozak, and Allyson Roy.

Also at 2:30, Charlaine will be on the RULES FOR THE PARANORMAL MYSTERY panel with Judy Clemens (moderator) , Heather Graham, Carolyn Hart, and Deborah LeBlanc.

At 4:15 p.m., most if not all of the Femmes will be on hand at the Anthony Awards Ceremony to root for Toni and Dana.

At 7 p.m. Donna and Chris Grabenstein will be auctioneers at the charity auction, whose proceeds will benefit Indy reads, an Indianapolis-base agency that provides adult literacy tutoring to adults who read below the sixth-grade level.

Sunday

From 9 am to 11 Sunday morning, Toni will be attending the book bazaar.

At 10 am, Charlaine and Dana will be on the WOULD I LIKE TO YOU? panel with Ed Lin and Eric Stone, moderated by S.J. Rozan

And at some point Sunday or Monday, all the Femmes will head to their various homes after another hectic yet fun-filled convention.  We'll probably all be a little sad.  Farmers track the cycle of the year by the change of the seasons and the progress of their crops.  Mystery writers measure theirs by deadlines, publication dates, and conventions.  The convention season starts in February or March with Left Coast Crime.  My own schedule usually includes Malice Domestic at the beginning of May and Mayhem in the Midlands over Memorial Day weekend.  Some of us might be attending Murder in the Grove, Love is Murder, Deadly Ink, Bloody Words--mystery conventions have the best names.  But Bouchercon is not only the biggest but usually the last convention of our year.  We'll all be heading home for a long winter of slogging away on our deadlines and keeping in touch with our fellow scribes by email instead of having lively conversations at the convention bar.

And reminding ourselves that it's only a few months till Left Coast Crime in LA.

My Life in the World of Books

by Kris

I served as one of the Guests of the Honor, along with regional author and former Newsweek reporter James Bishop, Jr., of the First Annual Sedona Book Festival (October 2-3). Although my new urban fantasy novel, High Crimes on the Magical Plane, isn’t officially published until October 15, my publisher made copies available for the festival, so we were able to introduce it that night. He’s the speech I gave when I received my honor.

It occurred to me recently that my relationship with books is one of the longest ones in my life. Longer even than my relationship with my husband, Joe, and we were married in kindergarten. Or so I tell people.

Though I’ve taken some detours in my life — some planned, others complete surprises — it astounds me that my life continues to weave a path through the world of books.

The most profound moment in my relationship with books came when I was around three-and- a-half. I didn’t have access to many books. Occasionally, we got some from the library, or sometimes people loaned them to us. On very rare occasions, my parents would buy me one, but not often.

It was on one of those times when they did buy me a book, that a profound revelation struck me. It hit me for the first time what it meant to actually own something, that I owned that book, that I never had to give it up.

I never felt that sense of ownership with anything else. Not with my toys, or even my dog. Just a book. Owning that book made me feel as if I possessed incredible riches. It felt that special.

I couldn’t have put it into words then, but a book isn’t just a pair of cardboard covers and some pages. Books contain adventures, enlightenment, journeys far beyond the limits of our lives. They connects us to other minds and hearts as nothing else does. That’s what books gave me then, and it’s what they give me now.

Despite the depth of the epiphany I experienced, it saddens me that I don’t remember the title of the book that brought it about. I know it was a Golden Book. Perhaps I understood even then that I would come to own many, many books in my life, and I would guard them all the way a miser guards gold.

The funny part was, when I felt that astounding sense of good fortune because I’d become the owner of a book — I didn’t know how to read yet.

But I didn’t let it bother me. I simply ignored the words written on the page, and made up stories to go with the illustrations. I could go through the same book a dozen times and make up a dozen different stories.

My sister was born shortly after I turned three, and my parents discovered they had their own in-house baby entertainer. They propped the baby beside me and handed me something with words and pictures, and I became our family storyteller.

I was already a writer, I just didn’t know it then.

I wouldn’t know it for some years to come, but at that tender age, my life’s path had already been chartered. Every writer has a story of how she came to the calling of stringing words together, and that is mine. 

As a toddler, naturally, I didn’t question that stories came to me in voices that I heard — all kids have imaginary friends.

But now I’m grown, and I still have imaginary friends. Writers and schizophrenics are the only adults who get to hear voices. The difference is that writers have to figure out how to make it work for them. It’s all that writing and editing and rewriting, and even rejection, and all the other things that grown-up writers face, that keep us relatively sane.

Everything I’ve written has come to me first as a voice I’ve heard in my head. It’s always been a strong voice, with a really robust personality, but only the barest sketch of that voice’s circumstances or traits.

Initially, I always feel a great surge of excitement when a new voice speaks to me.

But then, I resist it. It never seems possible to spin out the few lines a voice might spout into everything that will be needed to fill a book. It takes more than a dash of personality to sustain a whole novel. It takes immense work and imagination and stamina. To go from those few lines to a whole book is like trying to build a bird from a feather. Even though I’ve completed quite a few novels now, and they’ve all started the same way, I’m never convinced I can do it.

But the best characters come back at me harder, with more and better material. The thing that’s most significant about the really good ones is that while they’re still only showing me the tiniest part of themselves, they speak as if they’re already a fully developed character. It’s as if they exist somewhere already, even though I haven’t written them yet.

Really determined voices carry me along, until my hope matches theirs, until I’m as certain as they are that we can create something memorable together.


























And as fabulous as that sense of ownership was that I felt about a book as a toddler — it’s thousands of times greater when that’s your own name on the cover of a book.

Despite the role books have played in my life, some people say we’re living in a post-literate society today — I’m sure glad my husband, Joe, and I picked such a good time to open our bookstore and to engage ourselves in another aspect of the book world.

I don’t believe it, though — people will always divide their times with other forms of entertainment, and the techier-types will find new and better forms of downloading.

But books will always be as essential to some people as they are to me. I see these people every day, I see how their faces light up when they find the most perfect one. I see how they enjoy just holding the physical object in their hands.

And when they tell me they’re planning to read that night in bed, or the bath — well  a book makes a better companion in those settings than a hand-held device. Unless you want that bath to be your last.

Especially gratifying to me are the kids we see in our store. When I look at the faces of the boys and girls who carry their books to the register, often unwilling to hand them over so they can be scanned because they just don’t want to be parted from them, I see myself in those children. I see the girl who felt that profound sense of wealth simply because she owned a book.

I’m still amazed at the degree to which my life has been entwined with books. And when I look at those kids who already love reading, I have to wonder whether some of them might find their lives totally immersed in the various aspects of the world of books as well.

From where I stand, a life spent with books can be a pretty great one.

The Wedding Planner...er, Writer

Hank Phillippi Ryan invites a guest blogger

 

 

You never know when the universe will teach you something about writing.

 

Mark Arsenault is a Shamus-nominated mystery writer, a journalist, a runner, hiker, political junkie and eBay fanatic who collects memorabilia from the 1939 New York World’s Fair.

 

 His new novel is LOOT THE MOON, the second book in the Billy Povich series that began with GRAVEWRITER, a noir thriller praised for a fusion of suspense, humor and human tenderness. But Mark has learned to take lessons where they are offered. This one came in Ireland.

 

 

Wedding Toast Blues

Wearing a gray tuxedo, formal white buttoned vest, mint green ascot and rosebud boutonnière, I felt extremely overdressed to be running down the street of a small Irish village this past July.

But I was about to give a toast at my brother’s wedding, and I had the flu.

 

I ran to a pharmacist, who sold me liquid Actifed, a drug I had taken in pill form many times for colds. It would make me drowsy, I knew, but I needed relief. Back in the car, I chugged two gulps straight from the medicine bottle.

 

Then I noticed the bottle had come with a teeny-tiny measuring spoon.

Whoops. I had exceeded recommended dosage by about 1,200 percent.

 

This toast wasn’t starting well.

 

Bridesmaids have to worry about hitting their cues, supporting the bride and quietly handling whatever wedding day crises crop up. Important stuff, for sure. But I’d argue the best man has the harder job. The best man must deliver the groom sober to the ceremony (despite a Guinness tap on every corner), avoid stepping on the bride’s gown (while wearing slippery rented shoes), and give a public toast that will be remembered—for good or for ill—for the couple’s entire marriage.

 

There’s even more pressure in Ireland. You just don’t want to mess up the speaking portion at a real Irish wedding. The locals take these speeches—they call them speeches, not toasts—very seriously. They even wager on them. Wedding guests lay bets on how many minutes the speeches will last. Cagey gamblers pumped me for information ahead of time. What did I have to say? Did I write it out? How long?

 

Yes, I did write it out. And looking back now a few months later, I can see how the experience verified several cardinal rules of writing. But first, the scene at the reception just before my toast:

 

Seated to my left was Paul, the 39-year-old groom, with bride Kara, a native of Wicklow, a rolling green county south of Dublin on the Irish Sea. Standing to my right was my other brother and co-best man, Ryan. He delivered funny remarks to the crowd, which was slightly smaller than the average U-2 concert.

 

By this point, the cold medicine was disconnecting my circuits one-by-one, the way the HAL 9000 was deactivated in the Stanley Kubrick movie.

But suddenly, Ryan closed his toast with a sober reference to how we brothers pulled together when he—Ryan—was diagnosed with cancer in his 20s.

Our father, also a cancer survivor, dropped his head in tears.

 

A ball of razor blades appeared in my throat. And right then, it was my turn to speak. At least I had the writing. In crafting my speech I had followed three important rules.

 

Rule No. 1: Know your audience.

I had written the first draft at home in Massachusetts. It was a very serious tribute to my brother, my new sister-in-law, the love they share…

Gaaaa!

I would’ve been eaten alive had I started that way!

Luckily, the locals had warned me that wedding guests in Ireland expect a few wisecracks about the bride and groom. I had to roast them before the weepy stuff.

 

 

Rule No. 2: Get some good editing.

Once I realized I needed some jokes, I wrote a few and tested them privately on select people, to be sure they were funny without going over the line.

Here’s a tip: No potato famine jokes at an Irish wedding. It’s still too soon.

 

 

Rule No. 3: Don’t write past the end.

Endings can be hard to recognize. I write past them sometimes, like a meandering Sunday sermon that takes one too many turns.

 

With several paragraphs still to go in delivering my speech, I played on my theme that the bride and groom were like a once-divided soul, now reunited despite growing up with the Atlantic Ocean between them. Speaking slowly past the knot in my throat, I said: “The reunion of this remarkable soul proves that the international borders, which we pretend separate one kind of people from another kind, exist only in our imaginations.”

 

When I paused to collect myself I noticed people were nodding. Even overdosed on cold medicine, I realized that should be the end. So I stopped.

 

Raise a glass and pass the Actifed.

 

Best man toasts can range from beautiful to cringe worthy. What’s the best or worse thing you’ve ever heard a best man (or a maid-of-honor) say during a wedding toast?

*************************** 

  With 20 years of experience as a print reporter, Arsenault is one of those weird cranks who still prefers to read the news on paper. His Web site is: www.markarsenault.net

I've got good news and bad news...

by Toni L.P. Kelner

I spent yesterday at NEIBA, the trade show for the New England Independent Booksellers Association. This is an outing I've been enjoying once a year for over a decade. My husband Steve and I always volunteer to work at the Sisters in Crime/Mystery Writers of America booth, and some years sign and give away books, too. Plus we get to wander around taking notes about the books coming out, and picking up ARCs and other giveaways. As our daughters Maggie and Valerie have gotten older, it's become a family event. We always look forward to it. But this year, it was kind of depressing.

First off, it's always a bit daunting for a small fish like myself to see how many, many books I'm competing against. Thousands of books are released every month, many with great fanfare, ecstatic reviews, huge print runs, and fancy binding. Even if I just limit it to the mystery field, I saw new books by Fellow Femme Charlaine Harris, Robert Crais, Louise Penny, Archer Mayor, and Charles Todd. Dennis Lehane's much-anticipated anthology Boston Noir is coming out any minute, and includes a story by Femme Dana Cameron. It's enough to make me feel invisible.

But that's a perennial personal issue. The more meaningful observation was how quiet the show was. This year the trade show was only running for one day, instead of the traditional two, and I expected the place to be hopping. Nope. In all the years I've been going to NEIBA, it was the smallest excuse for a crowd I'd ever seen. What in previous years had been long likes for free books from attending authors was no more than a trickle, and I saw big stacks of autographed books by incredibly talented, popular authors that nobody picked up.

I don't know why that was. Obviously, the economy is still in the tank, and this was a new venue for NEIBA. (In years past, it's either been in Boston, MA or Providence, RI.) Plus we're lost a lot of the indie bookstores that would be likely to send people to the show. And of course, there are the various doom-n-gloom predictions about the book biz: e-books are taking over, the big box stores are taking over, nobody reads anymore, and so on. I imagine much more knowledgeable industry observers will be be diagnosing the situation. All I know is that it was depressing.

But...

There was good news, too. Maybe attendance was low, but the booksellers there were still excited about finding good books to sell, and several of them said mysteries were a huge part of their business. In talking to the ever-charming Doug Mendini, sales director at Kensington, I learned that attendance and activity at SEBA was great, which was good to hear. Best of all, publishers are still in the game swinging, bringing out excellent new books and doing their best to bring them to booksellers.

I had some encouragement on the personal level, too. I did give out almost all of the copies of Curse of the Kissing Cousins from the case I had brought to sign. I chatted with a lot of booksellers, one of whom is interested in hosting an event for me, and met some new writers. I passed on some industry gossip, and picked up more. And I picked up some wonderful books to try--including Boston Noir with Dana's story.

But perhaps the most encouraging sign was going on behind my back. Literally. While I was signing books at the SinC/MWA table, Maggie and Valerie were sharing a chair behind me, reading the books they'd picked up. In the middle of a trade show filled with distractions, they were reading. Even though they had Nintendo DS games, sketch pads, and iPhones available, they were reading. 

And isn't reading is what NEIBA is all about?

Violence for Peaceniks?

I'm a little torn. Technically, that's not possible because either something is torn or it's not. No little about it. That touch of impossibility in word usage, though, relates to my dilemma of the day, something that other crime novel fans probably understand.

See if this has happened to you. Just when you're really enjoying a book, with horrible, perfectly wonderful violent acts and even some humor thrown in, and you're cheering on the violent booty-kicker and wishing it was you dishing it out to the kick-ee, and right then, somebody comes along and ruins the whole thing.

 

Yeah, that's right. Gandhi ruined my day. He couldn't help it, I guess, since he had no idea people all over the world would be celebrating his birthday today. But we have to, don't we? What other person has stood up to The Man like he did? And for peace, for Ganesh's sake. He led a remarkable life, one dedicated to helping the human race see that we can create a peaceful world if we try.

Ahem. And yet, on this same day of peaceful reflection, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the beginning of Sophie LIttlefield's new book A BAD DAY FOR SORRY and identifying with her main character, Stella Hardesty, a self-appointed probation officer for hire. Her clientele of battered women are sworn to secrecy about Stella's doings, which are somewhat on the unconventional side.    

When I say probation officer, it's just to give a general idea. No real probation officers I know of carry out their duties with firearms and contraptions of restraint normally (?) used by sexual deviants. What Stella lacks in professional law enforcement training, she makes up for in imagination and plain old guts. In this story, a little boy is missing, one whose step-father has suffered/improved under Stella's guidance.

Okay, so what she does isn't sanctioned by the law. Does that mean she's a bad person, or that the law is bad? It definitely means she's a criminal, no matter how righteous the payback or what a good citizen she is, other than when she's convincing a repeat offender he really shouldn't beat his wife again, of course.

Stella is one-of-a-kind and I love her, head-busting and all. I love peace and an orderly world, too, and feel really, really bad about disappointing Gandhi on his birthday with my pro-vigilante feelings about Stella's side job.

Ah, well. Violence in order to create peace has always been a weird concept. It takes a special person to step out and actually change things for the better. In Stella's case, it's the human way. Gandhi did it the super-human way.  The Gandhi in us craves the justice, the Tony Soprano in us enjoys the hands-on delivery of the justice.