To market, to market, to buy a fat book

When I first started, long, long ago, I sent bad plays to the BBC, which returned them with personalised (not standard) rejection letters which told me they weren’t quite right for them. But always, somewhere in the letter, there was some sort of encouragement – with some they liked the dialogue or characters, saw promise in the plot of others, praised my sense of humour. It was always enough to make me think ‘OK, I’ll try again’. And, one day, it worked and they broadcast the next five. Then came the novels and, once again, I sent the first one I wrote to an agent, who liked it and signed me up. He didn’t manage to place it but I wrote another and he liked that, too. But still there were no takers. And (unbelievably to me now), I changed agents – just like that. And the second agent got my third and fourth novels published.

So that’s what it was like in the good old days.

Today, the planet is full of writers, some of whom should definitely not quit the day job but thousands more who are very, very good and deserve to be published. But driven, understandably, by the need to make a living, agents and publishers don’t seem to have the time, patience or courage to take on individuals who have no proven track record. I was told that, if an agent tells a publisher ‘My client has already had books published’, the response is not ‘Are they any good?’ but ‘Did they sell?’ And so the whole climate is forcing writers to become PR and marketing specialists and generally whore themselves around.

Which is fine. In the halcyon days, many writers were unrealistic. They assumed that society owed them a living. Today, however, we have to resort to different stratagems such as the FaceBook fan page. I’m not sure how long this has been going on but there’s now a fad for them. I’m a fan of lots of writers whom I admire there and I started wondering whether I should start a fan page myself but realised that all I was doing was duplicating the page I already had.

Instead, I’ve taken to a marketing strategy which is probably backfiring badly, in part because of the differences between British and American humour. Brits, as I may have said before, find it hard to blow their own trumpets, wave flags and generally talk up things they’ve done, so my way of overcoming that was to accentuate the negative. For example, for my spoof crime novel, The Sparrow Conundrum, I quoted some actual comments taken from a peer review of it on a website. They were:

“Your adverbs look corny and misplaced.”

“Your story does not stand up in this century.”

“You show clearly you know nothing about IT, mobile phones or modern crime.”

“My personal opinion of your story is that it is not particularly funny or even marketable.”

The idea of course, was to suggest that my willingness to relay these opinions was evidence of how confident I was that they’re wrong. In fact, the book has done rather well and, at the end of last year, won first prize in the Forward National Literature Awards for Humor. But I’m still not sure that a marketing campaign based on bad-mouthing your own product is effective, except in ensuring that no-one buys it.

Lies My Teacher Told Me

I just finished reading Lies My Teacher Told Me by James Loewen. This is a very thought-provoking book about how history and social studies are taught in our high schools. The basic premise is that high school American history texts are dumbed down, kept vanilla and don’t introduce controversy that could provoke interesting discussion in school. Through publishers walking the political line to get texts accepted in schools, to teachers not having time to check original sources to augment text books, the picture portrayed by Loewen shows high school students getting a bland picture of American history that primarily promotes a “feel good” image of the United States being the “good guy.” One-sided heroes are portrayed. One example: Woodrow Wilson is described as a promoter of peace without his other side of starting a number of wars in Central America and instigating racist policies in the Federal government. Another example: Helen Keller’s struggle to overcome blindness and deafness is portrayed without describing her adult life. She went on to become a radical socialist, a side of her character that is not covered in high school history books.

With the polarization in politics in our country, an implied message to me is it would be useful to have high school students exposed to different viewpoints and discuss both the positive and negative of historical people and the impact they have had on our country. Rather than rote memorization, it would be constructive to have text books that challenge our students to think and give them an opportunity to do research to understand opposing positions on critical topics.

Loewan gives five questions that should be considered in research. These apply equally to writers as to history students:

1. When and why was this written?
2. Whose viewpoint is presented?
3. Is the account believable?
4. Is the account backed up by other sources?
5. How is someone supposed to feel about the image portrayed?

 Likewise, the message I took away from this book also applies to mystery writing. As authors we need to have characters with dimension. We can’t have protagonist that are only good and antagonist that are only evil. Our heroes need flaws and our bad guys need to have redeeming virtues. This makes the conflict in the story compelling and not just a melodrama.


Mike Befeler

Samba

by Leighton Gage

I have heard many explanations for the birth of the word samba.

And, since, I can’t be sure which one is most likely to be correct, I will refrain from mentioning any of them.

One thing we know for sure is that samba was developed in urban Rio de Janeiro in the closing years if the nineteenth century.

And that like American jazz both the music, and the dance that evolved out of it, is strongly influenced by the rhythms and movements of Africa.

Many people associate it with Carnival in Rio.

They’re right.

Others associate it with Carnival throughout Brazil.

They’re wrong.

In Holinda, for example, the music of Carnival is the frevo.

In Salvador, it’s the axé.

The first samba to be recorded was Pelo Telefone, back in 1917.

Since then, the samba has evolved into many sub-genres, each of which has earned a particular name.

There’s the samba canção (canção means “song”). I'll be featuring a good example of one of those in my next post -- Samba #2 -- two weeks from now.

Then there’s  the samba enredo, performed by the great samba schools of Rio and São Paulo during Carnival. (Samba schools are large organizations of up to 5000 people which compete annually with thematic floats, elaborate costumes and original music.) I'll tell you more about them at Carnival time.

Other forms of the samba include the partido aldo, the samba de gafieira, the samba de breque, the pagoda and the bossa nova.

The last of these was inaugurated by João Gilberto, Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Morais, men who spawned a generation of disciples.

But no one did it better than the masters themselves.

Here are Tom and João performing Desafinado. (Out of Tune.)

About the dance:

You can spot a Brazilian dancing the samba from a kilometer away.

They learn it young.

Watch the rotational hip movement and the footwork.

My wife can do it.

I can’t.

The Rat Review

by Jaden Terrell

Shamus's Baby Picture (Photo by breeder Amy Epperly)

 The last time I wrote about my rat boys was when they were babies. I had never owned rats, and I was excited and a little bit terrified. Excited, because I'd read about how smart they are, and how people-oriented, and how a lot of rat owners call them pocket dogs. Terrified, because I'd spent a lot of time on the rat forums reading posts with titles like, "My Rat Won't Stop Biting!" and "My Rat Bit Me and I Had to Get Stitches!" Some were accompanied by photos apparently designed to remind the reader that a rat can chew through a cinder block.

I was also terrified that, in my ignorance, I would do something to hurt or traumatize them, so I pored over books and articles on rat care. I scoured pet rat websites and found this amazing guidebook. I found a good rat breeder and got a waiting list, set up my "nursery," and drove several hours to Atlanta to get the boys and bring them home.  I spent several hours there getting acclimated to them and pumping the breeder for information.

I knew they'd been well bred and handled well, so based on my reading, I thought they would warm to me in a matter of days--weeks at the most. But weeks passed, and they still acted like they were terrified of my hands. They would climb all over me and take treats from me, but they did not want to petted or picked up. The breeder reassured me that this was normal, that it might take months for them to really bond with me.

Sergei's Baby Picture (Photo by breeder Amy Epperly)

So I kept trying. I made them a big play area and loaded it with places for them to play and hide, and every few days, I'd give them a pan of water so they could fish for frozen peas and blueberries. I read up on ways to enrich their environment and make their lives happier. But I couldn't get all those Rat Bite stories out of my head. I didn't think my boys would be aggressive, but they would sometimes mouth my hands or give a light pinch, and I didn't know enough about rat behavior and body language to know if they were playing or being aggressive. Very frustrating. And yet, I already loved them. They were cute and funny, and I could tell they were very bright little creatures.

Soren's Baby Picture (he's on the left - Photo by breeder Amy Epperly

Someone on the rat forum told me not to worry. They were still young, she said, and they would get cuddlier when they got a little older. Another post said that, if a rat means to bite, it will draw blood. Those little nibbles were grooming and affection.

Finally, I went to YouTube and watched about a dozen videos of people playing with and interacting with their rats. Here's one. And here's another. You have to scroll down for this one, but it's worth it. The next day, while the boys were in their play area, Shamus (the Black Irish) came up to me and nibbled my hand. Instead of curling my fingers into my palm, I said to myself, Okay, I'm just going to have to trust him. And I let him explore my hand. He took each of my fingers very gently in his mouth, then let me scratch his ears and stroke his back. Later, when I put him back in the cage, he gently grabbed my thumb in his mouth and held it there with his little paws while I rubbed his cheeks and tummy. He closed his eyes. If a rat could look blissful, he did. I fell helplessly in love.

Since then, he and Sergei climb up to my shoulders and happily let me pet them. (Soren is a little more reserved, but he's coming along.) I'm beginning to see those dog-like qualities I'd hoped for all along.

 Yep, looks like it's official. I've become a genuine rat lover.

On writing more than one series Pt II

By Carola Dunn

In Part I, I wrote that I doubted my second mystery series, the Cornish Mysteries, would ever be as popular as the Daisy Dalrymple mysteries.

I still think that's probably true, but in the last couple of days I've had a lot of positive response after posting the cover art and copy on Facebook:

The Valley of the Shadow 

After many years of living and working in the far corners of the world, Eleanor Trewynn recently retired and moved to the small town of Port Mabyn in Cornwall. There, close to friends and family – particularly her niece Megan Pencarrow, a Detective Sergeant with the local police - Eleanor planned a quiet life for herself and dog Teazle, Though, through no fault of her own, it hasn’t quite worked out that way.

On one beautiful September day, while out for a walk along the seaside cliffs nearby, Eleanor, Megan, and Eleanor’s artist neighbor Nick spot a half-drowned Indian man floating in the water. Unconscious and barely alive, without any papers or identification on him, the young man is whisked away to a hospital. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Megan try to find out who he is and how he ended up in the water in such a remote area. While they have very little information to go on, circumstances suggest that the man may not have been alone and that many lives may depend on their finding the people he left behind.

Lots of readers say they love the series. What's more, though it won't be out in the US till December (UK April), several people have already preordered! It's very encouraging.

In the meantime, the first in the series, Manna from Hades, is coming out in  trade paperback in October, with a new cover to match Valley of the Shadow.

 It's not really fair to compare the two series when one has been out in paperback for ages and the other hasn't. On the other hand, the two Cornish books have been on Kindle and Nook since they came out, whereas the first four Daisy books have only been e-booked for a few weeks...

To tell the truth, with 55 books published, I long ago gave up trying to keep track of numbers.

So what is the biggest problem with writing two series? As far as mine are concerned, it's that they're set in different periods, Daisy in the 1920s and the Cornish books around 1970. Different clothes, different slang, different expectations for women--Megan couldn't conceivably have been a police detective in the '20s, and contrariwise, in 1970 no one would have expected Daisy to give up working just because she was married (On the other hand, Daisy has a nanny to look after her children and a housekeeper to look after the dog while she's busy catching murderers). I spend a lot of time researching the forensic capabilities of the police in the 1920s and then have to readjust to what was possible in 1970. 

It's fun and interesting and one reason I started the new series. I'd enjoyed the process before when I switched periods from Regencies (early 1800s) to Daisy and the 1920s.

As well as the time change, I moved from a main character in her twenties (age) to one in her sixties. I thought it was about time I caught up with myself!

Independence Day

By Mark W. Danielson

On July 4^th, our nation celebrated its 236th anniversary from British rule.  Independence Day, as it’s known, became a national holiday in 1870 so that it would forever be recognized.  Much has changed since 1776, particularly during my lifetime.  There is no doubt we are still an evolving nation.

Depending upon one’s point of view, “independence” has many definitions.  Country singer Martina McBride’s song Independence Day concerned a battered woman freeing herself from her abusive husband.  Hollywood made a movie of the same title about an alien invasion.  For parents and their children, independence may be declared when a child moves out and becomes self-sufficient.  But for our country in present day, true independence will only be regained once we are debt free and no longer involved in overseas conflicts.

The USA Today recently ran an article about the last two soldiers killed in Vietnam.  Most people have no recollection of the rocket attack on Saigon’s airport on April 29, 1975, that killed two Marines, but these men died for the country suddenly and without notoriety.  This article also compared our ten-year conflict in Afghanistan to Vietnam as another war with unclear goals where we are negotiating with undefined leaders.  And while we are discussing retreating from this impoverished region, things are heating up in Syria, Iran, Israel, and Egypt.  Meanwhile our national debt continues to soar while the notion of independence dwindles.  Sadly, most Americans have no concerns over this war.  After all, the grocery stores are full, gas prices are falling, and life is good while the names of those who have died or been maimed for their country fail to register except for those who knew them.

To most, Independence Day is a celebration – a day off to drink beer and grill tube steaks and burgers on the barbie.  They watch the fireworks with awe without any thought to the wars we fought to retain our freedom.  Although the first public fireworks display was on July 4, 1777, it was Francis Scott Key’s “bombs bursting in air” phrase from in his poem about the 1814 Fort McHenry attack that brought meaning to our colorful pyrotechnics.  And when the National Anthem in sung at public events, it is unlikely that most who are mouthing the words understand their significance.  Considering that the majority of Americans, particularly our nation’s leaders, have never served in the military, this disconnect is understandable, but no one can appreciate the true price of freedom without first recognizing our struggles and losses.

Perhaps the greatest thing about celebrating the 4^th of July is that for one brief moment we become “one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”  Our Forefathers welcomed people of all races and countries as Americans.  People became united under one flag.  So if for one day out of each year, people can set their former country’s flags aside to salute our own Stars and Stripes, then the grill parties are worthwhile.  Just remember that there is still a war going on and our volunteer military force is out there willing to die for the freedom our Forefathers believed in.         

(Photo courtesy USCG)

Writing About Places We've Never Been

For most of my fiction writing career, I have stuck with the idea of only taking my characters to locations I have visited. Even that can be problematic if you aren't careful. When I wrote my first Post-Cold War thriller in 1990-91, I had visited Hong Kong. But when I revised Beware the Jabberwock for publication recently, I discovered I had used a hospital that was too far from where my character had an accident.

While revising the second book in the trilogy set just after the Cold War, The Poksu Conspiracy, due for publication soon, I realized I had broken the familiarization rule. I had a few scenes set in Berlin and Budapest. These are places I've never been. I depended on some maps of Berlin and online information for the German capital, but not much was required since it only involved a drive in from the airport to a downtown office.

The Hungarian part was a bit more complicated. I had Burke and Lori Hill spending several days there. Budapest was Lori's birthplace. Luckily, National Geographic Traveler ran a feature on the city around this time. It included great pictures of various sites and an article that provided lots of information. I also read a book by someone who had lived there several years that gave an inside look at the area.

Among the places described in the magazine was a restaurant that had been restored to its pre-Soviet satellite name, the Cafe New York. It occupied two levels of the old New York Insurance Company building, and the Communists had renamed it Cafe Hungaria. The lavishly decorated upper level was a balcony that looked down on the lower level called Melyviz, or Deep Water. In the old days, the affluent gathered on the upper level to peer down disdainfully on the writers and artists who subsisted on the cheaper fare of Deep Water. Burke and Lori made an important contact there.

My work was validated when I submitted those chapters to my writers group. Turns out one of my colleagues had lived in Budapest while her husband was there with the U.S. military. She said my descriptions were right on.

I haven't begun revising the third book, which was originally written around 1993. Titled Overture to Disaster, it is the longest of the three, currently clocking in at 165,000 words. And much of it is set in locations that I've never visited. I was well versed in the activities of the CIA and KGB back in those days, and I did a great deal of research on areas where the story is set. In the early part of the book, I have scenes in Minsk and Kiev, capitals of two of the new countries that were formerly Soviet republics.

It was only later in my fiction career that I decided to stick with locations I've visited. I'm pleased with what I did in these first three books. I'll be surprised if any of my readers takes me to task for the way I described these places nearly a quarter of a century ago.