Murderati

Flying Chairs

by Pari Noskin Taichert

"If Hell exists, it's filled with old boyfriends . . . and a cat."

So begins the manuscript I'm editing right now in which Sasha Solomon, my protagonist, is plagued by nightmares about relationships gone bad. Because I'm thinking so much about her life, I'm remembering fragments of my own.

Many years ago, I had a boyfriend who was an artist. Since our first interactions neglected talking in favor of aerobics, we didn't get to know each other much until we were well into being "a couple."

One day, he showed me his art.

I broke up with him that night.

You see, I didn't get it -- his art, I mean. He spent hours with pastels and watercolors creating images of flying chairs. These weren't chairs with wings; I think I would have liked that. No, his renditions were chairs moving through the air -- white background, slightly bent chrome or wooden legs, and blah upholstery. Like I said, I didn't get it.

I broke up with him because I felt our relationship had no future if something so important, something that tagged his essence as a human being, evoked mocking emotions in me.

As writers, we know writers. Every convention, every trip to the bookstore or library, offers oppportunities to read friends' works.

What do you do when you care for the person, but not for his story -- or craft?

I'm not thinking of anyone in particular here -- not when it comes to mystery authors -- but I know it's happened to me. I've picked up a book by someone I like, wanted to love it, and haven't.

It's an uncomfortable, incomplete, and slightly treacherous response -- and it needles me when I see that person later.

Right now, I can imagine several of you are wondering if I'm writing about you.

Don't go there.

I'm not thinking of anyone in particular.

Honest.

I simply want to explore this uneasy subject because it's one of those things we don't talk about -- and it stymies forthright communication and makes us cringe internally.

So, I want to know: How do you handle it when a friend asks you to read his book -- or expects that you have -- and you have . . . but you don't want to talk about it because you couldn't get past p. 40?

Me?

I've begun to search for the good in every work -- something I can praise or admire. But it can be difficult and I still feel like a traitor for not adoring the entire tome, the baby that it took a friend or acquaintance so much effort to create.

Has this ever happened to you?

How have you handled it?

What Do You Read? Huh?

Jeffrey Cohen

I am a bad mystery author.

Quite often (okay, once every few months, but for me, that's often), I'm asked by a reader, an interviewer, or just this guy who always follows me into the Stop & Shop, "what do YOU like to read?" The guy at the supermarket asks everybody that question, so I'll discount his participation, but the others seem to think that, as a published author, my taste in reading is in some way more relevant than their own, which it's not.

Because I have a reputation, and a very minor one, for including humor in my writing, I can get away with a snappy comeback like "I read graffiti," "I read my wife's moods, in order to stay alive," "who said I could read?" or "I read grocery lists," which really only works on the supermarket guy. But the truth is, I'm embarrassed to say what I really read, because it's not what they want to hear.

I'll confess it here: I'm a mystery author. I don't really read mysteries all that much.

It's not that I don't find the form interesting. It's not that I don't ENJOY the odd mystery book here and there. But the sad fact is, after a day of toiling away at my own meager work, it's depressing to read someone who does it better, and whose book is, after all, finished. It all seems so easy for those other authors--even though I know it's really not, their work is between covers and has a copyright date on it, and everything, so it feels like they're just flaunting their success at me.

Besides, I've seen enough words for one day. Spending hours staring at a screen with words on it, I believe, has a finite capacity. After a certain number of words, my brain goes into a fetal position and gives up for the day. I just can't deal with any more, especially if the words are actually challenging.

And the sad fact is, when I do read for pleasure, I tend more toward non-fiction than fiction. I'm currently listening to an audiobook of Manhunt, a description of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and the pursuit of John Wilkes Booth, by James L. Swanson. Booth has just gotten to the home of Dr. Samuel A. Mudd to get his broken leg set, and at the rate I'm going, it'll be a lot more than twelve days before they shoot him in a barn in Virginia.

Why don't I read more mysteries? Well, for one, I don't want to steal stuff inadvertently (or even advertently) from other authors, and there's sure to be some morsel of plot that will make me go: "oh yeah, that would work perfectly with the story I'm working on now!" I'd have to suppress that impulse, and would do so, but it's just too upsetting to go through the process.

There are certain authors I can't read when I'm writing. For days, my work will sound like a bad imitation of theirs. Scarier than that, I've been told at least once (okay, once) that at least one (okay, one) author can't read me while writing. I assume reading too much of my writing while working on one's own would lead to an upset stomach. Lord knows, that's what happens to me.

On the other hand, I do sometimes read mysteries by friends I've met through this adventure of an industry. For example, this week I read the ARC of Julia Spencer-Fleming's upcoming All Mortal Flesh, and I've gotta tell ya, it's dynamite. Luckily, Julia and I don't write on similar themes--her heroine is an Episcopal priest, and my characters are about as not an Episcopal priest as you can get without actually being a different species. But Julia writes with humor, with emotion and with an evil sense of plot and pacing that will keep you turning pages, which is what this business is all about. I'd ask her how she does it, but then she'd just tell me, and I still wouldn't do it as well, and that would be the waste of an afternoon.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, what I read.

A few years ago, an interviewer asked me what my favorite book was, and I said, Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Sometimes Zeppo: A Celebration of the Marx Brothers and a Satire on the Rest of the World, by Joe Adamson. For some reason, the interviewer thought I was kidding. I wasn't. Concerning itself with one (well, four) of my favorite subjects, this is the book that I would have written if Adamson hadn't gotten there first. It's out of print now, but you can find a copy. The information is copious, and it's a funny, funny book.

I know what I was supposed to say. I should have looked thoughtful and said, "you know, my real influences have been Chandler and Hammett, but I'd have to say my favorite book is The Canterbury Tales. What a depth and breadth of character!" Of course, I wouldn't have a clue what I was talking about, and I wouldn't know one Canterbury Tale from another, but that's what you're supposed to say. (Although you can substitute Moby-Dick or Ulysses for The Canterbury Tales and still be considered acceptable.

A lot of people cite Dickens, Shakespeare, Salinger or (god help us) James Joyce as influences. For me, it was Joe Adamson for how to make non-fiction entertaining, and for storytelling, I had to go to Irwin Shaw. A storyteller beyond compare, Shaw's novels had lots of juicy plot to chew on, and characters who weren't stupid, which is a plus. If you haven't, check out Nightwork, in which a hotel clerk's life changes when he comes across a tube filled with money one night. Some would say shallow; I say, ahh.

You don't get to choose your influences, or everybody would be writing in iambic pentameter, and wearing accordion collars. And those would chafe like crazy in this heat.

What it comes down to is, it doesn't matter what an author reads. It matters what an author writes. And you should read what you want to read. Assuming, of course, that my books are included on that list.

After all, a guy's got to have priorities.

ON THE BUBBLE WITH CHASSIE WEST

I must confess that I adore this woman so much, I'm having one hell of a time coming up with an intro that doesn's sound soppy.  It's hard to describe so warm a heart, so giving a soul, or so fine a writer, but more - so fine a lady.  I mean, you all know Chassie is beloved by so many in our mystery community, so I'd merely be shouting to the chorus.  Maybe a recap of her writing prowess would be a good place to begin. 

Chassie got her feet wet in the young adult genre, then on to teen romance and adventures and then two Nancy Drew's!  Add to that - three romantic suspense novels for Silhouette as Joyce McGil -Through The Looking Glass and Unforgivable made Waldenbooks bestsellers list and that one was the very first adult romance to feature an African American protagonist.  It wasn't any wonder she received the 1989-1990 Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times for New Series Author, and then to top that off - the 1990-1991 Career Achievement Certificate of Excellence for Series Romantic Fantasy!  Foreign rights offers arrived faster than the Concorde.

From those wonderful achievements, Chassie went on to mystery.  And thank God she did!  Else we would never have met her wonderful Leigh Ann Warren.  Leigh Ann arrived in Sunrise - this one snagged an Edgar nomination.  Then came Killing Kin - Edgar and Anthony nomination.  And on to Killer Riches and her latest, Killer Chameleon - a pick of the week by Sarah Weinman.  Out now for Chassie, is a new anthology from Avon - Bark M For Murder - with J.A.Jance, Virginia Lanier and Lee Charles Kelly.  Chassies story is Nightmare In Nowhere.  And, at the moment, Chassie is working on a standalone that will leave you breathless!

Oh, one last thing - before we chat with Chassie - I have to tell you that were it not for this incredible woman, I'd not be writing.  But don't hold that against her, okay?   Chassie believed in me, and kept me rowing in that damn boat that often felt like it was ready to sink or capsize.  And I'm not the only published writer who can lay claim to that - you'd be surprised who some of the NYT bestsellers are who got a 'green light' from an editor because of Chassie West.

Now come have fun with us!

EE:  At what point in your career, Chassie, did you find it necessary to tell Otto Penzler you didn't write cozies - and that Leigh Ann Warren is a cop?

CW:  Hey, hey, hey!  No way are you getting me in Dutch with the Otto Penzler.  I've never met him, at least as far as I know.  I do remembe reminding a certain reviewer who shall remain nameless taht he hadn't felt that KILLING KIN, the second in the Leigh Warren series, was worth of an Edgar nomination.  Since I hadn't the foggiest who he was at the time, it didn't have much of an impact.  Besides, it was obvious that the Edgar judges disagreed with him.

Oh, man!  If Otto is reading this - he's gonna be ticked that you don't remember him.  But, okay - if you say so.

EE:  Is it really true you listen to Bach whilst you write? 

CW:  Occasionally, but Rachmanioff's my man.  Just leaves me in puddles.  And the Swingle Singers.  Used to listen to Gregorian chants until I realized I was falling asleep in front of my computer.  And Lou Rawls until I realized I was getting horny.  Definitely counterproductive when you're trying to write.

Lou Rawls?  Oh, yes!!  He was THE ONE!  Remember 'You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine'?, or hey - what about 'At Last'?, or "After The Lights Go Down Low'?, and then there was...oh, excuse us.  Back to the interview.

EE:  Whew.  Where those hot flashes, Chassie, or what?  Okay - uh, next question.  Everyone has a Walter Mitty dream, what's yours?  50,000 words or less, and keep it clean, okay?

CW:  Well, hell, if I've got to keep it clean, I can't answer it.  Next!

Clever you!  Okay, you get a free pass on that one.

EE:  Word on the street is that Halle Barry was going to option one of your Leigh Warren books, but she didn't think she was beautiful enough to portray her on the screen.

CW:  I should be so lucky!  Besides, Leigh Ann isn't beautiful; even she will admit that.  A notch or two above average, according to her.  Of course if Barry wants to mess her up a little to take on the role, that's fine with me.

Can I tell Halle that?  I'm supposed to get back to her. I mean, I told her that myself, but hearing it from you would make all the difference.  Sit tight - leave it up to me...we'll be in LaLa Land before you know it.  You are taking me along, aren't you?  I promise to be good.  Honest.

EE:  Rumor has it that you're working on a standalone that will make that TV show 'Medium' look like a kid's picnic.  How about an advance hint?  Just between us here, okay?  Our lips are sealed.  Sorta.

CW:  I thought somebody was hacking into my computer!  Well, now that you've spread my work in progress all over the Internet, yeah, I'm working on a standalone.  And yeah, it deals with psychic stuff.  But no spooky dreams.  I mean, when does the poor woman on 'Medium' get any therapeutic sleep?  She needs one of those by-the-numbers mattresses.  Mine is a more who-dunnit with a tad of interference from the Other Side confusing the issue and mucking up the works.  I may never see it on a store bookshelf, but there are some books you've just got to write, and this was mine.

Hehehehe! That was moi hacking into your computer.  And I'm waiting for more!  So get with it, okay?  It's got legs, kiddo!  Even Halle thinks so, she said...ooops.  Scratch that.  I didn't tell her a thing.  Really.  We were talking about something else.  Er, someone else.  That Brit actor, Sean Bean.  Yeah, that's what it was. 

EE:  My favorite little spy told me that you get weak in the knees over a certain actor.  Uh, care to share here, Chassie?

CW:  Look, lady, the last thing I need is Denzel's wife putting out a contract on me!  Everybody lusts in their hearts every now and again.  Don't they?

Uh, yeah.  Sure.  We'll talk.  But not here, okay?

EE:  Okay, Chassie, after clueing us in about chants, what's your favorite retreat and what do you do there?

CW:  Any place it's 80 degrees or better, near water and if there are mountains as well, I'm in heaven.  Hawaii does it for me.  Think I must have been Hawaiian in a previous incarnation.  And what do I do there? Besides sitting overlooking the water and pounding my laptop?  As much as nothing as I can beside just wallowing in being there.

Oh, I can relate to that!  My heart still lives there too.  Da kine Islands pono!  Maybe I lived there too in another life and meeting you on Maui back in 2000 was a 'reunion' of sorts?  And maybe we were sistahs?  Must be.

EE:  Mysteryville is abuzz about that dinner you had last week in D.C. with a guy that could be Stedman's twin.  Is this true?  Are you the reason for his split with Ophra?

CW:  You really are trying to get me killed, aren't you?  There's not a word of truth in the rumor.  Well, maybe a syllable or two.  But that's all.  Honest.  Ophra used to live in my condo development.  That's the closest I am to anything of hers.  I'm in no way responsible for who looks like who.  Or should that be whom?  Never mind.  It ain't true!

Killed?  What?  I'm only passing on rumors here. Damn, but you're a cagey one!  Okay, I believe you.  Sorta.

EE:  I understand you have a bad habit of crossing your eyes at birds when they land on that huge deck of yours.  I mean, come on, Chassie! That's just not fair.

CW:  Look, I like birds as much as the next person, but bird poop is another matter.  Besides, I'm doing it for their own protection.  I've got cats.  Get it?

Uh, yup.  Loud and clear.  Actually, that's really very creative of you.  Hmmm.  Might try it myself.

EE:  Here's an easy one finally - who would be your ideal panel mates?

CW:  Uh-uh.  Ain't going there.  Too many of my friends are writers.  Let's just say I feel most comfortable with panel membes who make me and the audience laugh.  And think.  Not necessarily at the same time.

Damn!  You're a hard nut to crack.  Diplomatic as all get out.  But then, I already knew that. But hey, I tried.

EE:  Whispers are rampant that the CIA wants you back in the fold.  What's with that?

CW:  You bring this up considering what's going on in D.C. with the special investigator and civil suits and stuff?  I know nothing.  I repeat, nothing!

Well done, Ms. West.  A representative from our office will be contacting you soon to begin re-entry into the system.  Until that time, please be careful what you say to Evil E.  We've got her on our radar, and keeping a close watch.

EE:  Ignore that man.  I don't know how the hell he got in here.  Anyway, which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at the next ThrillerFest?

CW:  No contest there.  Lee Child.  I'd love to pick his brains about Jack Reacher and how he came to be.  I'm heavily into character and Reacher's one complex so-and-so.

Lee Child and Reacher again???  Why does that duo keep cropping up here?  I'm gonna have to get them both On The Bubble.

EE:  God forbid - but what would you be doing if you weren't writing?

CW:  To paraphrase the son, 'rolling around heaven all day'.  I can't envision life without writing.  It's like oxygen.  A necessity.  I can't not write.  Period.

Thank heaven (no pun intended) for that!  Can you hear the hallelujah's from your thousands of fans?  I can.

EE:  Who would be your ideal book tour mate?

CW:  I'm gonna take the easy road on this one: you.  How's that for sucking up?

Excellent!  But then, I knew you couldn't stay mad at me even though I've asked you some pretty dumb questions.  But you drive, okay?  You know I'm direction challenged.  Hell, you still have to point me in the right direction when we get out of elevators.

EE:  Okay, now that we're best buds again, here's the last question, and the easiest.  Hehehe.  You're having six guests for dinner.  Who would they be, and what would you serve?

CW:  Sorry, this needs revising.  I'd be willing to take guests out for dinner and they could like it or lump it, but I don't cook.  And for six?  You jest.  As for who, if you insist:  Stephen King, Grace Edwards, Kay Hooper, Walter Mosley, Suzanne Brockmann and Nora Roberts.  In payment, all I'd want them to answer is: how in the world do you do that?  There are qualities about their writing I'd love to master.  It would be worth having to declare bankruptcy after the dinner to get those answers.

Au contraire, dear, dear Chassie.  How in the world do YOU do it is more like it! 

And Chassie?  Aloha Kaua - A hui hou kakou!   

Mahalo nui loa,

xoxo Ileina

On Discipline by Paul Guyot

It is my honor to welcome a phenomenal writer, friend, and all around great guy to guest blog today. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...

Paul Guyot!!

I can’t write.

I want to write, but I can’t. I woke up, showered, dressed, went straight to the office, fired up the Mac, and then nothing.

Everything’s in place, everything’s in order, all systems go.

But the words won’t come.

Mind you, this is not writer’s block. First, I don’t believe in writer’s block, but secondly, that thing people call writer’s block is when you’re actively inside your story, trying to come up with the next scene, or next line of dialogue, or the denouement, and you’re stuck.

Writer’s block is NOT sitting in front of your keyboard and doing nothing.

I haven’t even opened my screenwriting program.

Oh, yeah. By the way, I’m a screenwriter. Television. I’m supposed to be writing a pilot (for a new one-hour drama series) for Sony Pictures Television.

But I’m not. Because I can’t write.

Can’t. Is that accurate? No. More like – I am not writing. I mean, it’s not like I’ve lost feeling in my fingers, nor have I gouged my eyes out upon seeing Joe Konrath and a canine from Berlin. No. I’m just not doing it.

I am not writing.

My wife thinks I’m writing. Or I should say working. Because I have made it very clear to her that I’m working even when it appears I’m not.

I will take Burton Rascoe’s quote to my grave. I’m paraphrasing, but it’s basically, “What no spouse of a writer will ever understand is that when the writer is sitting, staring out the window, he or she is actually working.”

But I’m not working. I’m not staring out the window. I’m staring at this very nice fifteen inch screen.

I am not writing.

What is it that causes this? Why do some writers not write? I’m sure there’s dozens, if not hundreds of theories. No, probably just dozens. But most of them are excuses created by non-writing writers to feel better about themselves.

I am not writing for one reason. I am not disciplined.

Discipline. The single greatest asset a writer can own. Better than talent, better than imagination, better than anything.

If you have discipline, you are light-years ahead of anyone trying to write without discipline. It is no coincidence that the best writers I know – both prose and screen – are also some of the most disciplined.

And it’s no coincidence that the majority of people I know who have yet to taste any real success as a writer lack discipline. And most of them don’t even know it.

Discipline. Stephen J. Cannell, of TV and multiple novels, is disciplined. Up at 4:30am EVERY day, works out for an hour to an hour, showers, eats and WRITES. Every day.

Sheldon Turner, one of the “hottest” screenwriters working in Hollywood, is up at 3:57am every day. Yes, 3:57. Like the gun. He writes for ninety minutes, then works out for an hour, then back to the keyboard. Every day.

Ridley Pearson, Nora Roberts, Michael Connelly, John Grisham. Disciplined. I was going to write “extremely disciplined,” but realized that is wrong. There are no levels of discipline. You are or you aren’t. It is black and white, despite what your ego may be telling you.

And it’s not simply sitting in front of the keyboard every day. I do that and I have the discipline of a six-week-old Irish Setter. It’s getting up at the same time every day, and doing the same thing every day. A job. Sometimes I’m at my keyboard at seven, sometimes eighty-thirty (like today), or sometimes nine or even ten. If I did that at a regular job, I’d be fired.

I should fire myself.

If I were disciplined, I would have already finished that novel I’ve been blathering about for three years. Three years. How embarrassing. If I were disciplined, I would have finished the two film scripts I’ve “started.”

But I’m not.

What I am is lucky. Very lucky. To have made a reasonable success of myself without discipline. Sure it can be done, but it will always bite you in that writer’s ass you’re sitting on.

My ass is being bitten right now. And not in a good way. My lack of discipline is not only keeping me from writing today, but its domino effect on my entire process is awful. Because my deadline doesn’t care. It continues toward me. Like a freight train. And losing one day of writing means that when I do turn in my pilot, it will not be as good as it could be. Because I lost roughly six or seven hours that could have, most likely would have, been spent making the thing better.

And this isn’t the first day I have not written. Because I lack discipline, this is one of many, many days in my writing career that have been spent not writing. Not staring out the window working, those days count as writing days. I mean simply not doing anything.

I hurt myself. I hurt my family. By not being disciplined. So, I’m trying to fix it. Right now. This very second.

See, I’m writing this because, one, I love JT and would do anything for her. But also because I’m trying to jumpstart myself. Get my bitten ass in gear. Because writing something, anything, is better than not writing.

I urge any of you reading this, pros or amateurs, to get disciplined. Force yourself to learn discipline. Do whatever it takes. I’m trying. Believe it or not, I am much more disciplined now than I have ever been.

I’m writing more now than ever. This year I’ve written four short stories. Not just bullshit stuff – they’ll all be published – two online, two in anthologies. I also wrote the first draft of this pilot, and five drafts of the outline.

Five. Freaking. Drafts. Of an outline. Those of you that deal only with editors and publishers – trust me, when you hit your knees tonight, thank your God that you don’t have to endure the seed of Satan known as the studio executive. But that’s for another post, another non-writing day.

So, for six and half months, that ain’t bad body of work. For me, that is. For Connelly or Cannell, it’s about a week’s work.

Forgive the stream-of-consciousness of this post. But as stated, I’m trying to work through some heavy shit, people.

You – right this very second – are getting a look inside the mind of a professional writer. Not necessarily a very good one, but someone who gets paid lots of dough for putting words to paper. And it’s a mess, isn’t it? If I knew you were coming, I would have picked up a little.

But yes, right now, you are in my mind, as I try and write my way out of this pit. I literally have no idea what the next sentence will be – I’m just writing, so as to keep from not writing. Because if you’re not writing what you should be, then write something. Don’t check email, don’t read blogs, don’t download Filipino bird porn. . . write. Anything.

I have no idea how long this post will be. JT may find it so boring that she edits sixty percent of it, and you may not even be reading this sentence right now. But a writer is like a shark – if we stop moving, we drown.

Always. Be. Writing.

I must keep typing. It’s all muscle memory, like working out or anything else. If, IF, you get disciplined enough where you write, not just every day, but AT THE SAME TIME EVERY DAY, then it comes much easier. A disciplined writer does not encounter days like I’m having. If you think you’re disciplined, but still have days where you don’t write – guess what? You ain’t disciplined.

Want to be a good, successful writer? Do this:

1. Learn how to write. Meaning, learn all the rules of writing – so you will be able to intelligently break them later.

2. Get disciplined. I have no idea if this can be learned or not. I’m inching my way there, year by year. If I do learn discipline, I will let you know it can be done.

Now, unfortunately, I know there are some of you out there who only care about the “successful” part, and not the “good” part. Well, you’re in luck. As the shelves at Barnes & Noble can attest, you don’t have to be good to be successful.

But you do have to be disciplined. So, for you folks, skip the learning how to write part, and just get disciplined.

Oh.

I almost had it. There was a pause of maybe thirty seconds or so between that last sentence and “Oh.” I was almost out of it, almost ready to open my screenwriting program.

But it didn’t happen.

I’m still here. You better put a pot of coffee on, grab your fuzzy slippers, and order some kung pao, cuz we may be here a while. Let’s check back in with my mind.

Right now I’m actively trying to think about my pilot. Even as I type this. I’m thinking about my characters and where I left them. Thinking about what comes next for them. If I can get my head inside their heads, I’ll be good to go.

Some of you who know me may be wondering where my music is in all this. Why not crank the pilot’s playlist on your iPod and go? Yeah, well, I haven’t. Not one note so far today. Why? Because I’m not disciplined. If I were, I would sat down, opened up iTunes, and started writing.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t do anything associated with writing this morning. Or, I should say, I chose not to do anything. Like turn my music on.

Okay, I’m going to try it. After this sentence I will go and open my iTunes.

Okay, there. Bad Company by Bad Company is playing now. The working title for my pilot is BAD COMPANY. Let me know what you think of that title – because the studio execs hate it. Are they correct? I’m too close to tell.

All right, I’m just about where I need to be. Take heart – this is almost over. I can feel it. If you’re thinking I should have put the music on hours ago, well, like I said, lack of discipline.

Bad Company, and I can’t deny. . . Bad Company, till the day I die. . . till the day I die.

Thanks for hanging with me through this. Thanks to JT and all at Murderati.

Be disciplined, people. It will make your lives much easier. Trust me.

Write well.

ANATOMY OF A STORY

Maybe it’s my engineering background that compels me to take things apart.  I treat my writing no differently.  Before I sat down to write my first novel, I picked out four novels in the same genre and I dissected them.  I had no background in creative writing and this seemed like the best approach for me.  I broke down each story into component parts: action and reaction scenes, characters, their entrances and exits, and their motivations, changes in points of view, the plots and subplots, etc.  I did this chapter by chapter.  I read a chapter and made my notes.  When I reached the end I had a complete guide on how each book was created.  I could look over my notes and see how the threads pulled together and how all the parts connected to make a seamless narrative.  This exercise gave me a lot of confidence when I started outlining my novel.  It forced me to think about all the components that make a good book and helped me avoid the common errors of a novice writer.

I still analyze my favorite books every time I begin a new book.  I find it puts me in the mood to write my story and sharpens my mind.  I use unabridged audio books now.  It allows me to make notes while I listen.

Writing is an art, but it’s not all instinctual.  There’s a mechanical side to good storytelling and to master it, you need to know how it works.

Simon Wood

PS: Apologies for the brevity of this entry, but I had a death in the family this week and I'm busy with family matters.

Last POV Standing

NAOMI HIRAHARA

I love books with multiple POVs, especially those that mix first person with third. They range from upmarket women’s books, including Ann Darby’s The Orphan Game and Mary Sharratt’s The Real Minerva to Japanese classics (Natsume Soseki’s Kokoro) to literary fiction (Barbara Kingsolver’s Poisonwood Bible, Suzan Lori-Park’s Getting Mother’s Body, and my favorite of all time, Louise Erdrich’s Love Medicine).

My debut mystery SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI started off with two POVs–my main character Mas Arai and a Japanese doctor named Yukikazu Kimura. I ended up killing off Kimura’s voice and morphing the character into a red-haired journalist slacker in his early twenties. Mas was the last POV standing.

With my second mystery in the series, GASA-GASA GIRL, again I attempted to add other voices to the mix, including Mas’s good friend, Tug Yamada, a World War II vet with a shortened finger. My dear editor at the time suggested that I stick to the most interesting voice, Mas’s, and I complied. She was right.

I don’t know why I gravitate towards storytelling in multiple voices. Perhaps it’s because I love to look at things from different points of view. A psychoanalyst may posit it’s because I’m the first child of an immigrant and had to understand and interpret multiple worlds for my parents. It may be because I worked as a journalist and had to question people on opposite sides of an issue. Or it just may be my natural predisposition.

With my present project, I’m running into the same conundrum. I was envisioning a women’s book like Whitney Otto’s How to Make an American Quilt or Terry McMillan’s Waiting to Exhale. Again, a combination of first person and third.

Of course, the mystery genre, especially thrillers, implement this method of storyline all the time. I asked members of various mystery listservs about what books they feel did a good job of mixing first person with multiple third-person perspectives.

Here’s a compilation of suggestions I received:

• Donna Andrew’s Turing series
• James Lee Burke’s books
• Jan Burke’s BONES and other books
• Harlan Coben’s standalones
• Robert Crais’s L.A. REQUIEM
• Sue Grafton’s S IS FOR SILENCE
• Joan Hess’s Maggody series
• Joseph Hone’s spy books
• Margaret Maron’s Deborah Knott books
• James Patterson’s Alex Cross books

But in spite of all these models, as I wrestle with my crocodile of a manuscript, I realize that I have to heed my book’s inner voice. One single voice: my main character’s. Unlike my Mas Arai series, which is third person throughout, I’m using a first-person POV of the same character during two different time periods.

And that story with multiple voices–it’ll happen someday with a book I write, but apparently not this one.

WEDNESDAY’S WORD: bakatare (GASA-GASA GIRL, page 84)

Bakatare, pronounced ba-ka-TA-re, can have different versions--bakayaro or just plain baka. They all mean essentially the same thing: stupid or foolish. In high school, I somehow convinced my junior varsity basketball team to yell "BAKATARE" before we started an official game. S.J. Rozan, what do you think?

GO, JANET RUDOLPH, GO: If you haven’t ever read Janet Rudolph’s Mystery Readers Journal, this is definitely the time to do it. Mystery Readers International’s latest issue is titled Murder in the Far East and it’s a doozy. There are articles on Japanese mystery fiction, the four leading Japanese female mystery writers, Asian fact crime, Judge Dee, and author essays. I contributed an essay, and so did Colin Cotterill, Barry Eisler, Dale Furutani, G. Miki Hayden, Peter May, I.J. Parker, Laura Joh Rowland, Eric Stone, and so many others. It’s really outstanding. To subscribe, see the Mystery Readers International website.

SADDEST MOVIE EVER: I recently viewed a DVD with one of the saddest and most infuriating storylines ever. It’s a Japanese movie called NOBODY KNOWS, inspired by a true incident that occurred in Tokyo in the 1980s. Beautifully made with an exquisite performance by a 14-year-old boy who captured Cannes Film Festival’s best actor award in 2004. Also saw CACHÉ , starring Juliette Binoche. This one’s also foreign–French. This film received rave reviews from critics; I thought it was pretty good, but not quite up to the critical buzz. The most interesting feature was actually the director’s interview, in which he expressed that he tries to enter a scene as late as possible and then leave as soon as possible. A great tip for writers. Both these films have a much slower pace and rhythm than most American movies, so if you’re used to a lot of talking and fast cuts, you may find them utterly boring. For me, however, watching NOBODY KNOWS confirmed that deep within my American soul resides a strong Japanese aesthetic.

AND A SAD FAREWELL: I always pictured him playing Mas in a film or play, and now he's gone.

QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

"Hi, my name is Denise Dietz Rubenstein Sourdellia Wiley Aalborg---"

"We don't use last names here."

"Oh. Okay. Hi, my name is Deni, and I'm a blogaholic."

Hi, Deni."

Do you want to hear how my addiction started? I'll tell you how my addiction started. Slowly.

Once upon a few weeks ago, when I was miraculously in between [free-lance] edits, I clicked on one of the Murderati blog links. I believe it was Naked Authors...

And I haven't stopped.

Clicking from link to link, I've found that several blogs talk about Serious Pub Biz Issues and/or Important Author Issues, and that's a Good Thing. Despite what passes for humour and my occasional [ahem] irreverence, I, too, have addressed Serious Issues. But recently my friend
Lynn Whitacre said, "Deni, why don't you write a blog just for fun?" [Hah! I told Lynn I'd put her name on my blog and she didn't believe me - hah!]

So, since it's summer and hot as hell and all the editors are on vacation (except me), my blog designation for today is: JUST FOR FUN

Subtitled: MY SISTER EILEEN

Yes, I know. My Sister Eileen is a 1955 movie, a musical remake starring Betty Garrett, Janet Leigh, and a very young Bob Fosse (first, it was a non-musical with Rosalind Russell and Janet Blair).  But I'm talking about my sister Eileen Dietz, who has been an inspiration to me since the day I decided I wanted to be a "real live author."

My sister Eileen Dietz is a "real live actress." She was a series regular on General Hospital [which inspired me to write a glitzy mystery called SOAP BUBBLES].

Eileen played The Demon and many of the possession scenes [for Linda Blair] in The Exorcist. Eileen was, of course, the inspiration for my black-comedy novel, FIFTY CENTS FOR YOUR SOUL ["Horror and Hollywood noir...who can resist?" said Publisher's Weekly], which revolves around events that occurred during the filming of The Exorcist.

More recently, Eileen starred in Exorcism and had supporting roles in Sin-Jin Smyth and Creepshow III. Eileen was also featured in Constantine, Doglover's Symphony and Tracing Cowboys. 

I've seen my sister Eileen in several plays. My favorite was the original Steambath at the Turck & Warehouse Theatre in NYC. Written by Bruce Jay Freidman, Steambath was directed by Tony Perkins. Hey, let me tell you, it's always a blast to see your little sister run naked across the stage. Almost as much fun as seeing her spew pea soup and spin her head.

Here is a composite, except I haven't learned how to make pictures big.

Here Eileen auditions for a lucrative Cover Girl contract. It finally came down to Eileen or Christie Brinkley.

When a producer/director friend of Eileen's said she planned to shoot an Indie film in Victoria, on Vancouver Island, Eileen volunteered to play a small role. She had never been to Canada, thus had never met my husband Gordon or seen my house, so she and another beautiful actress, Promise LaMarco, stayed with me the whole shoot.When the director needed a house interior to film a murder, Gordon and I volunteered our home.

1-Eileen at my kitchen table. 2- Eileen gets bopped on the head by the killer. 3-Eileen and promise. 4- Eileen with the two teenage stars.

Although my dog Pandora might disagree, it was fascinating to watch the filming. I especially loved watching Eileen improvise. The director said she wantedEileen to sing or hum something as she entered the (my) kitchen, so she sang, "The lord is good to me, and so I thank the lord, for giving me the things I need, the sun and rain and the apple seed..." from Johnny Appleseed. I forget how many times Eileen sang it, as they shot the scene over and over, or how many times she "died" in my upstairs hallway, but the director said cut-and-print just before the take-out Chinese restaurant closed. As you can see, Eileen "died" before she could finish reading THE SPECIALIST by Gordon Aalborg. I'm told that the final cut will have framed posters of my book covers on the wall.

Here's a poster of SIBLING RIVALRY,  just in case it appears any time soon at your neighbourhood theatre or in your neighbourhood video store.

Eileen will start shooting her next movie in a few weeks. She told me it's "Sunset Boulevard meets Carrie." I love that. And I love the title: THE QUEEN OF SCREAM

Meanwhile, if you can rent a video of Helter-Skelter, you can see what my sister Eileen looks like bald. Personally, I think that, even bald, she's much prettier than either of the Janets (Leigh and Blair).

Eileen humors me by pretending to be a Denver Broncos fan. She's such a good little sister.

Over and Out,
Deni

The Pros of Small Cons

by Pari Noskin Taichert

2006 has been the year of small mystery conventions for me. Since February, I've gone to Murder in the Magic City, Malice Domestic, Mayhem in the Midlands, Murder in the Grove and Con Misterio. My last convention in this cycle will be Magna Cum Murder in October. In past years, I've gone to Left Coast Crime and Bouchercon, too. That's a lot of out-of-pocket expense, a lot of travel -- and a lot of experience from which to draw a few conclusions.

Sure, conventions are promotional opportunities. That's the excuse I give my husband.

On a quieter, private level, they offer community and companionship with people who share my passion.

I've loved every single mystery convention I've ever attended -- including the Bouchercon in Las Vegas. As finances and time allow, I'll continue to go to as many as I can.

But smaller cons have a special place in my heart.

The biggest difference between attending conventions such as Bouchercon (and Malice Domestic) and smaller venues  -- is the members. At the biggies, you get more editors, agents and super-successful authors (an exception might be ITW's first foray this year). But, I've found that they don't tend to mix with others.

Sure, if you've got an NYC publisher, you'll be invited to the parties, but don't expect to hang out with the biggies beyond that. I don't think this is a function of snobbery; it's more that these people have business to do -- and it's not with you.

However, I believe that if you work large conventions right, they provide opportunities to make meaningful, influential connections.

So, why attend a small one -- where you know you won't run into that publisher who might change your life? Or that author whose blurb will propel you into the big leagues (yeah, right)?

As a fan, why would you spend money to go where all of the authors -- but the Guests of Honor-- are unknown to you?

1. Small conventions encourage mixing.
I don't know if it's because these conventions are more relaxed or because of the mix of attendees, but they always encourage cross-genre interaction. I believe one reason -- especially for authors -- is that many of us don't have our usual friends around. As a result, there's more mingling. The Boys in Black will sit with the Girls in Pink in the bar -- and they'll converse. Also, readers don't have as much competition for authors' attention.

2. Small conventions allow more per person, face-to-face impact.
Murder in the Magic City limits attendees to 135. However, since there are no concurrent sessions, each author who attends has an audience of 135. How many other cons provide that? Smaller conventions also tend to allow authors more than one panel. That makes a big difference, too. And, I'd argue that without as many huge names competing in concurrent sessions, attendees will try more new authors than they would if they were intent on seeing their big-draw favorites.

3. Small conventions' per-author, per-book sales probably equal those at bigger ones.
Rarely will any convention pay for itself (for an author) through book sales. For me, I'd have to sell hundreds of books in order to cover the hotel expenses alone. But, I've noticed that I've signed basically the same amount of books at most conventions I attend . . . period.

**********************************    

Con Misterio
What a wonderful event! I hope attendance increases by 50+ people so that it can become viable economically for the organizers. Frankly, it's a great addition to our mystery convention calendar -- and Austin in July is lovely when you're in an air-conditioned, pleasant hotel.

Lousy Photos Presented with Lots of Love
Apologies first: None of these authors have red eyes. Forgive me. Believe me, I spent time trying to fix them. Then, I couldn't import those fixes into this post. Argh. Also, I realize the text wraps around the photos in an odd, erratic way; I tried to fix that, too.

Nevertheless, in an effort to promote my fellow authors, I'm including these lousy examples of photographic prowess and layout -- along with author website links (or whatever I could find) -- with the hopes that if someone interests you, you'll click on his or her name and get to a location where there is a good picture.

We had a lovely reception at Con Misterio. Here, Reed Coleman and Jane Cleland ham it up. Notice how PR savvy Reed is. He's got his books in hand . . .

John Maddox Roberts has written more books than I thought humanly possible -- and he's still going strong. He's embracing the lovely (her eyes are gorgeous, btw) and talented Karen MacInerney (pronounced "Mac and Ernie").

Sean Doolittle is one of the nicest guys you'll meet. I doubt I would have met him but for attending smaller conventions and having the time to compare notes about parenthood, our careers and life. He's now beginning to gain some real national attention and I couldn't be happier for him.

These three would probably always run in different crowds than little ol' me, but thanks to smaller cons I've met them all.
From l to r: Anthony Neil Smith, Victor Gischler, Harry Hunsicker

Oh, this is a terrible picture. I want to hide . . . but, it contains some of my favorite people. Troy Cook at the far left is a new author who is already getting tremendous kudos. Next to him is the deceptively gentle Lono Waiwaiole. And, in the foreground is Troy's dad, Bruce Cook. Don't let daddy Cook's nice demeanor fool you. He knows more about the L.A. movie scene -- about the inner workings of movies and their production, than most of us could ever learn.

Mr. James Crumley in his office.
Actually, I got to spend some quality time with Jim. He was totally unassuming and could drink most of us under the table. (I hope the link takes you to an article about him.)

l to r: Dean James, Lillian Stewart Carl, Karen Macinerney.

They're all much better looking than this photo indicates. Hey, I'm a writer, obviously not a photographer.

Notice the lights emanating from Karen's head? Could it be her aura? Or, maybe it's because all of these fine authors deal with the supernatural?

l to r: authors Kaye George and Marilyn Meredith. Kaye is also a violinist. I've known Marilyn since my very first panel at my very first con -- LCC Pasadena.

Ah, the lovely bar. Great conversations happen just because of proximity.

l to r: Laura Elveback, Leann Sweeney, Sara Weiss. I couldn't find any url for Laura -- darn it.

Um, welcome to the bar again. On the left is Keith Raffel -- a brand new author from Sillicon Valley. Next to him is a pro -- Mark Troy. I had the honor of being on a panel with each of them.

Should I identify them from top to bottom? The lady in the back is Katharine Eliska Kimbriel -- author of both science fiction/fantasy and mystery. Because this convention was small, I had the joy of dining with Margaret Maron more than once. What a kind, intelligent woman. Jan Grape (seated) also generously shared her experiences as an author with me.

The wild-worded, wild-minded author Jim Nisbet and Con Misterio organizer and tireless worker Karen Meschke.

What would any convention be without food? Con Misterio fed us very well (the hotel was great, too). The hospitality room served its purpose with elan. We also had fresh fruit and veggies, good drinks and other wonderfulnesses throughout each day. Wow.

This is a box of breakfast treats from author Sharon Wildwind (oh, I hope I have the right url!) who was unable to attend the con but found a way to have an impact on our grateful stomachs one morning. I really liked those cookies with the powered sugar.

Well, that's enough for today.

cheers.

Hitchhiker's Guide to Mystery Fests

Jeffrey Cohen

If you spend enough time reading online listservs about mystery books (yes, DorothyL, but others, as well), you can get the impression that authors spend most of their time attending mystery conventions. Conversation generally begins with "how will we know each other at B'Con (Bouchercon, to the uninformed)?" and moves on to "did you go to Mayhem in the Midlands?" with such stops along the way as "just got back from Left Coast Crime (LCC to the really hip) or "was that Lee Child I spotted at Deadly Ink?" (Can you tell I just learned how to link?)

That's the tiniest tip of the iceberg. There are mystery conventions, it would seem, every 20 minutes, in every corner of the globe. Yesterday, I attended the Backspace Conference in New York City (not limited to mystery, but about writing generally), and it was lovely--not to mention less than an hour from my house. Each and every one of these conferences seems to attract some of the most respected and famous names in the mystery biz (the aforementioned Mr. Child was in attendance, for example). As a fledgling mid-list author, I have some questions:

1. Where do these people get the money to travel all over the place so frequently?

I have been a mystery author (of sorts) for about six years, and my first book was published just a hair short of four years ago. In that time, I have traveled to exactly one mystery convention by air: Bouchercon 2004, in Toronto, CA. Other than that, I've attended three Malice Domestic conferences ("Malices" to the in crowd) in Arlington, VA, because I can drive there in about four hours, two Deadly Inks in Parsippany, NJ, my home state (sorry I couldn't make it this year--ironically, because I was flying into Newark Airport that day--but I promise I'll be back in 2007) and have considered, and abandoned, plans to go to Left Coast Crime twice, through no fault of the convention organizers.

According to a quick search on Expedia, a flight from Newark, NJ (near where I live) to Madison, WI (home of this year's Bouchercon) on the dates necessary (a day before the convention begins, returning on the day the convention ends) would cost at least $276. Now, that doesn't sound too bad. Then, add the hotel--and while it's an extravagance, I always (always! Four times so far in my life!) try to stay at the convention hotel, just to give me a place to recharge my batteries during the day--which in this case would be about $115 per night for three nights, or $345. Again, not enough to break the bank.

Convention registration for this year's Bouchercon is $185. So add the expenses together, and the bill is $806. Okay, it's a bit of a bite, but not outrageous. Except I haven't eaten yet. Nor paid for parking at the airport. Nor gotten myself from the Madison airport to the hotel (rent-a-car? airport shuttle?). Nor bought drinks for friends at the bar, which is where one must see and be seen at such events. So, let's say $1200, going on the cheap all the way around, for a convention that's not terribly far from my home.

Now, multiply that by, again conservatively (a word which doesn't flow freely from my keypad), six times a year. That's $7,200. And they're not all going to be close to home. In 2006, Left Coast Crime was held in Bristol, England. In 2007, Bouchercon will take place in Anchorage, Alaska. Those airfares are considerably higher.

Where are these authors getting this money? Sure, the bestselling authors can afford it, and good for them, but the rest of us aren't exactly putting extra wings on our homes with book advances. How can someone afford to be an author these days?

2. Where do they find the time to write?

Seems like a lot of authors are at every single mystery convention. I realize this is physically impossible, but every time you look up, they're there. Since this is a time-consuming process, I can't figure out when they have the time to write books.

Here's my theory: Lee Child is actually a fat, short, slavish man who sits in a cramped garret in a less-than-fashionable area of Manhattan and crafts his novels 365 days a year. He rarely leaves the house, has food sent in and has no friends. But he writes really well, and takes time out to watch the occasional Yankees game, his only source of joy (until this week, but that's another whole blog).

In order to keep the myth alive, he has hired a tall, handsome Englishman to wear nice suits, drive a flashy car and attend mystery conventions, film premieres and perhaps awards ceremonies. This guy probably can't write a word (other than to autograph books with Child's name), and for all I know can't read, but he's personable as all get-out and can speak very eloquently on writing and Lee Child's books.

Other authors are probably into this impersonation gambit, as well. Robert B. Parker has three (!) series going at once, and writes the occasional standalone while waiting on line at the movies. He doesn't have time to, you know, live. You know that guy who shows up at Kate's in Cambridge MA every once in a while is an impersonator. Parker's at home trying to figure out how Spenser and Hawk can still beat everyone up despite being over 70.

3. How do they know which convention they're at?

Now, I'm not saying all mystery conventions are the same. First, as I've noted, I haven't been to enough to say so intelligently. Also, each one definitely has its own personality. But if you go to enough of any type of event in a short period of time, you start to lose perspective. Hotels tend to look alike, hotel bars definitely look alike, and if you keep running into the same authors (and sometimes the same fans) in hotels and hotel bars, I don't care how well-run the convention is, you're going to forget where you are.

Bestselling authors have assistants (or escorts) who guide them on book tours and, assumedly, to conventions. The rest of us have the airport shuttle, and that's not a big help. So, how do authors know where they are?

My guess: they have crib sheets written on their cuffs, like in school. Or on their arms. Or, for all I know, on the insides of their eyelids, which they see by closing their eyes are tilting their heads toward bright lights. But there's some trick to it, for sure.

Next year, when my first book from a large publisher is released, I'm going to make an effort to attend a few more conventions. I'm starting to save up now. But if you see me at one, and I seem disoriented, like I don't recognize you or can't remember your name, please don't take it personally.

I'm like that at home, too.

ON THE BUBBLE WITH ALEX KAVA

Touted (and rightfuly so) as the master of psychological suspense - with six blockbuster books-a short story in 'Thriller's (ITW Anthology) - over three million books and published in twenty-two countries - could it happen to a nicer gal?   If you don't believe me - just pick up Alex's newest - A NECESSARY EVIL and when you can't turn off the lights when you go to bed - just don't blame it on me.

We had a little chat , and here's what Alex had to say:

EE:  I was wondering if that music on your website is what you play whilst you scare the heck out of us.

AK:  It's absolutely impossible for me to write with any music playing or I start singing along, humming,tapping, dancing - none of which is a pretty sight.  I prefer silence or I can't hear the voices.  We all hear voices, right?

Uh, yes ...but not quite as scary as you hear!

EE:  Word is, Alex, that Ralph Lauren has been badgering you to be his new' Florida Face', but you'be been putting him off.  What's the lowdown on that?

AK:  Ralph refused to replace that little embroidred polo player with a Westie.  How can you reason with a man who doesn't see that trend coming?  (By the way, I happen to have three Westies.)

Well, hells bells, I don't blame you at all.  No sense in being behind the curve.  Three Westies?  Oh, I love those little critters!   

EE:  Other than writing those mega-best sellers, which talent would you most like to have?  Don't tell us you're still hoping to go on the poker tour either, okay?

AK:  Scorpion killer!  I actually tried it at this year's ThrillerFest.  (Seriously, I found one in my cottage.) But I was told squeezing a scorpion between a Kleenex with your bare fingers is NOT the way it's done.  In my defense, it was the closest weapon I had available at the time.

You could have shown the scorpion the cover of your new book - it would have keeled over with fright!

EE:  We all have a fiction heroine, or hero - so other than Mrs. Danvers and Heathcliff, who might they be?

AK:  Scout Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird.

Ohh, yes.  Wonderful choice!

EE:  Here's a killer question - who would be your ideal panel mates?

AK:  That's a tough one.  Over the years I've had the privilege of being on panels with some incredible authors.  Maybe it'd be fun to take some of my favorites and combine them into one panel: Peter Robinson, Laura Lippman, William Kent Krueger, Gregg Hurwitz and Lee Child.

We could sell tickets to that one!

EE:  My new spy hit me with a real juicy tidbit.  He swears up and down he saw you and Tess Gerritsen in a huddle with Dominick Dunne at ThrillerFest.  So...what was that all about, hmmm?

AK:  For those who might not know, Tess did an autopsy at this year's ThrillerFest.  Now just think on those same lines for next year but add Dominick to the mix...well, I hate to spoil the surprise.  As a hint I'll tell you that Tess needed to use some of my research I did for SPLIT SECOND on putting body parts in take-out containers.  Which by the way, a few weeks ago when the New York Times reviewed the ITW anthology, Thriller - that was my short story's "Pie Topped With Spleen" that made it into the headline.  I couldn't have been prouder.

Oh.

EE:  Excuse me for a minute.  I need to take a deep breath.  Okay.  I'm fine now.  Uh, so, Alex, uh...I'm almost afraid to ask, but which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar?

AK:  Jack Reacher.  And don't tell me he wasn't there this year, because I know I saw him.  Oh, wait, you said writer, not character.  Hmmm....I'll have to think on that one.

Whew.  Lee?  Pssst...think 'Pie Topped With Spleen' if she finds you, okay?

EE:  We all have a Walter Mitty dream or two - what's yours?  Keep it clean, and under 50,000 words.

AK:  But I thought I just answered that in the question above?  Jack Reacher all to myself in a cozy corner of the bar.

Oh, right.  Sorry.  Yes, you did say Reacher.  Well, I'm sure he'd be delighted.

EE:  Okay, Alex - get serious, okay?  So - if you were to plan a special dinner party, say - six guests - dead or alive - who would they be and what would you serve?

AK:  Me prepare dinner for six guests?  What are you, nuts?

Thank God you don't cook!  I was ready for you to say 'Pie Topped With Spleen'!!

EE:  What book do you wish you'd written?

AK:  To Kill A Mockingbird - it's still my all-time favorite.

You had me scared for a minute there.  I was afraid you were gonna say The Silence of the Lambs.

EE:  Rumors running around Thrillerville is that you turned down a small part in The Soprano's.  Uh, why?  I mean, here you had an opportunity to play Tony's biographer and you said 'no'???

AK:  Umm...are you saying I didn't get the part?  Because no one's called me yet.

Uh, gosh, do you think it might be they read your short story in Thrillers?

EE:  Okay - last probing question, Alex:  Who would you love to do a book tour with?

AK:  You have to ask?  Jack Reacher.

I shoulda known!

Ladies and Gents of On The Bubble: A huge round of applause for Alex Kava!  A terrific writer, an absolutely delightful gal with a wacky sense of humor and more - and I didn't even have to drag her here screaming and stomping her feet.  But, I must confess - the minute I found out she had three Westies - I decided to go easy on her.  I mean, Westies are cute as hell - but they can be very protective! 

Oh, by the way - check out Alex's website!  It has to be one of the most creative author sites on the web!  It is truly a knock out.  http://www.alexkava.com

And - if you're a member of International Thriller Writers - Alex is the Chief Award boss this year.  A call has gone out for judge volunteers for next year's Thriller Award - so give her an email if you'd like to be considered.