By Jaden Terrell
Several years ago, I attended my first Bouchercon. It was wonderful, yet overwhelming. Somehow, in my mind, it expanded to a convention of 7,000 people, a vast swarm of humanity I could hardly even fathom. Today, I arrived at the St. Louis Bouchercon. Turns out it's about 1500 people and has ALWAYS been about 1500 people. Somehow, the huge, scary con became a huge, not-so-scary con in just a few years.
I was lucky enough to share the drive from Nashville and a hotel room with another Nashville author, Jennie Bentley )aka Jenna Bennett). Jennie writes a cozy series for Berkley Prime Crime and an e-series of real estate mysteries. If you like well-written, well-crafted light mysteries, you'll like Jennie's books.
I started the day at a panel called "Laughter of the Clowns," moderated by Jerry Healy and featuring Allan Ansorge, Alan Orloff, Gary Alexander, Jack Frederickson, and Robin Spano. Parnell Hall, one of my all-time favorite writers of humor, wasn't on the panel but got a tip of the hat from the panelists. If you've never seen his videos about the writing life, check out "Signing in a Waldenbooks," "Kill 'Em," and "The King of Kindle." Funny guy. Funny panel. I've read Allan Ansorge's books, since he's a beloved member of the Killer Nashville family, but I hadn't read the others. Obviously, I'll have to remedy that.
The panel by the guests of honor was remarkable--at times serious, at times hilarious, at times enlightening. At one point, a humorous and slightly off-color anecdote by Val McDermid rendered the panel speechless as the room erupted in laughter. Add Colin Cotterill, Charlaine Harris, Robert Crais (I heart Joe Pike), and moderator Oline Cogdill, and it was one of the most entertaining panels I've seen. I also enjoyed seeing Charles Todd on the military panel moderated by Matthew Funk.
I've heard a lot of Irish, English, and Scottish accents already and am looking forward to the panel of Irish authors on Saturday. I'd like to pin some of these folks down and just have them talk to me for about a year. Especially John Connolly, whose Charlie Parker series is among my favorites. I just finished The Reapers a few weeks ago and am in awe of the man's talent. And did I mention the accent?
I also got to see one of my favorite authors in the world, Timothy Hallinan. Tim's graciously agreed to let me pump him for information for my third book. As several people today have said, "Mystery writers are some of the nicest people in the world."
To top it off, I finally got to meet our own Leighton Gage. After reading so many of his charming posts, it was a pleasure to see him in person.
Having a great time. Wish you were here!
Showing posts with label Bouchercon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bouchercon. Show all posts
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Free Association (or How Writers Think)
By Beth Terrell
"Where do you get your ideas?" people ask. I know I've written about this before, but last night I discovered a prime example of how a writer's mind works.
Last night, my husband, Mike, and I were watching an Animal Planet show about people who keep dangerous exotic animals as pets. One woman was admitted to the hospital suffering from the bite of a poisonous snake. Despite doctors' attempts to save her, the woman died. When police went to her home, one turned over a basket he saw in the living room; there was a live cobra beneath it. A moment later, they realized that there were almost a dozen poisonous snakes roaming freely through the house. Since discretion is the better part of valor, they carefully backed out of the house and called in specialists. I don't know where you find venomous-snake-removal experts, but apparently they're out there. All I know is, I couldn't find one in the Yellow Pages.
The second story on the show was about a man who had a house full of monitor lizards, some of which were six or seven feet long. Again, the animals were roaming freely through the house. You probably know that lizards carry salmonella and that the saliva of monitors harbors bacteria that is potentially deadly to humans. Komodo dragons are the deadliest, but even the bites of smaller lizards can carry deadly infections. This man had been bitten multiple times by his lizards and failed to seek medical attention for his injuries. Instead, he waited until he started to feel sick, then took some antibiotics he had in the medicine cabinets. By then it was too late. Weakened by his illness, he collapsed on his living room floor, where the pets he loved so much...ate him. Or parts of him.
These stories reminded me a panel I attended at a Bouchercon several years ago. It was a conversation with John Connolly and Lee Child, two of my favorite authors. I don't remember everything they said, because I spent more time than I should probably admit swooning over their accents and thinking, My gosh. I'm breathing the same air as JOHN CONNOLLY!!!!!" I did my best, though, which is why I remember that one of the moderator's questions led to a discussion of cat mysteries.
"I never quite got cat mysteries," Connolly said. "If you were going to have an animal solve a mystery, why not pick something that might actually care that someone had been murdered? Like, say, a golden retriever? Why pick an animal that, if it were to find its owner lying dead on the kitchen floor, would probably feed on the soft bits?" (Not OUR cat, of course. Edgar, would be above such base instincts.)
Anyway, that memory led me to think about how dangerous and exotic reptiles might be used in a mystery. There's the obvious answer, of course--that a deadly snake or monitor lizard could be used as a murder weapon--but how about other possibilities? What about a guy who collects or studies these animals? I can't see a Komodo Dragon being as engaging as Rita Mae Brown's feline sleuth, Sneaky Pie Brown, but my quirky side finds the idea appealing. Our detective would have to be an eccentric fellow, probably something of a loner, so what sort of crime would it take to engage him in the plot? Well, what if a half-eaten body were found in his lizard enclosure, and police were convinced that his lizards were to blame for the death? Our reluctant hero would have to find proof that someone else killed the victim and dumped him in the enclosure.
I'll probably never write a book about this guy (though he's beginning to appeal to me, so I may end up writing a short story about him--or her), but I think going through the thought process exercises my writing muscles. Ideas beget ideas; creation begets creation.
Where do you get your ideas?
"Where do you get your ideas?" people ask. I know I've written about this before, but last night I discovered a prime example of how a writer's mind works.
Last night, my husband, Mike, and I were watching an Animal Planet show about people who keep dangerous exotic animals as pets. One woman was admitted to the hospital suffering from the bite of a poisonous snake. Despite doctors' attempts to save her, the woman died. When police went to her home, one turned over a basket he saw in the living room; there was a live cobra beneath it. A moment later, they realized that there were almost a dozen poisonous snakes roaming freely through the house. Since discretion is the better part of valor, they carefully backed out of the house and called in specialists. I don't know where you find venomous-snake-removal experts, but apparently they're out there. All I know is, I couldn't find one in the Yellow Pages.
The second story on the show was about a man who had a house full of monitor lizards, some of which were six or seven feet long. Again, the animals were roaming freely through the house. You probably know that lizards carry salmonella and that the saliva of monitors harbors bacteria that is potentially deadly to humans. Komodo dragons are the deadliest, but even the bites of smaller lizards can carry deadly infections. This man had been bitten multiple times by his lizards and failed to seek medical attention for his injuries. Instead, he waited until he started to feel sick, then took some antibiotics he had in the medicine cabinets. By then it was too late. Weakened by his illness, he collapsed on his living room floor, where the pets he loved so much...ate him. Or parts of him.
These stories reminded me a panel I attended at a Bouchercon several years ago. It was a conversation with John Connolly and Lee Child, two of my favorite authors. I don't remember everything they said, because I spent more time than I should probably admit swooning over their accents and thinking, My gosh. I'm breathing the same air as JOHN CONNOLLY!!!!!" I did my best, though, which is why I remember that one of the moderator's questions led to a discussion of cat mysteries.
"I never quite got cat mysteries," Connolly said. "If you were going to have an animal solve a mystery, why not pick something that might actually care that someone had been murdered? Like, say, a golden retriever? Why pick an animal that, if it were to find its owner lying dead on the kitchen floor, would probably feed on the soft bits?" (Not OUR cat, of course. Edgar, would be above such base instincts.)
Anyway, that memory led me to think about how dangerous and exotic reptiles might be used in a mystery. There's the obvious answer, of course--that a deadly snake or monitor lizard could be used as a murder weapon--but how about other possibilities? What about a guy who collects or studies these animals? I can't see a Komodo Dragon being as engaging as Rita Mae Brown's feline sleuth, Sneaky Pie Brown, but my quirky side finds the idea appealing. Our detective would have to be an eccentric fellow, probably something of a loner, so what sort of crime would it take to engage him in the plot? Well, what if a half-eaten body were found in his lizard enclosure, and police were convinced that his lizards were to blame for the death? Our reluctant hero would have to find proof that someone else killed the victim and dumped him in the enclosure.
I'll probably never write a book about this guy (though he's beginning to appeal to me, so I may end up writing a short story about him--or her), but I think going through the thought process exercises my writing muscles. Ideas beget ideas; creation begets creation.
Where do you get your ideas?
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
On Being a Pro-Crastinator
By Chester Campbell
My wife calls me a procrastinator. I say, heck, it's good to be a "pro" at something. But I suppose she's right in one respect. I should be writing on my current WIP (Work in Progress, for the uninitiated), but here I sit chatting up the blogosphere.
My Murderous Musings colleague Beth Terrell is getting ready to take part in NaNoWriMo, pounding out 50,000 words during the month of November. If I could mirror that feat with my fifth Greg McKenzie mystery, I'd be in high cotton, as they say in these parts. Since I'm currently at the 18,423-word mark, that would take me almost to 70,000 words. My books don't usually run much longer than that.
NaNoWriMo, as you may or may not know, is National Novel Writing Month, when authors around the globe are challenged to turn out 50,000 words of fiction in 30 days. The object is to take an idea and plug away at it, just to get all the words on paper, or in the computer. There's no time for editing. Just keep the pot (or plot) boiling. After all is done, you can go back and clean it up, patching the holes and prettying up the language.
As a procrastinator, I can't work like that. Each time I sit down, I have to go back over what I wrote last time out and make it sound better. Chances are I've had a new thought that requires me to go back and add something I neglected to do earlier. Like the other day I thought of a question the detective should have asked, so I backtracked to the proper spot in the story and beefed up the dialogue. Keeps readers from thinking why didn't the idiot pursue such-and-such?
My daily, when I can arrange it, walk at the mall provides a fertile time for thinking about the plot and searching out those holes that need to be filled. Sometimes I come up with ideas on new twists to put more strain on my poor protagonists. I'm a remorseless taskmaster. They don't get time to procrastinate.
But me? I have an excuse. I spent the past five days, including travel, atternding Bouchercon 2009, pushing my published work and trying to convince the good folks who read mysteries that I'm working on more to come. And I am. As soon as I finish this little tome, I'm heading for the living room and my laptop to plunge headlong into Chapter 13. Hmm, that's an ominous note. But what's even more ominous is that it will probably be nearly ten o'clock. That means local news, followed by a DVD recording of the early evening national news. Than it'll be bedtime. We have to arise at 6:15 to get grandson ready for school.
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