Murderati

For Crying Out Loud

by Robert Gregory Browne

I'm going to admit something here that few men are willing to cop to.  At least publicly.

I cry sometimes.

Yes, I know.  You look at that handsome, macho photo of me on the left of your screen -- the one that says, he's all man (come on, keep looking, you'll find it), and you'll have a hard time believing that that particular hunk of granite ever cried a day in his life. 

But it's true.  I cry sometimes.

In fact, not only do I cry -- I outright blubber. 

If you happened to be anywhere near me in the theater as I watched The Joy Luck Club or Awakenings or Sophie's Choice, you undoubtedly had to dig through your (or your wife's) handbag and pull out an umbrella.  I'm talking deep, wracking sobs.  The kind you try so hard to keep in because you're embarrassing the hell out of yourself.  But you can't.  Because the movie is just so damn sad.

A woman writer friend once said to me, "Rob, what I've noticed about your books is that they're chock full of emotion.  A lot of thrillers written by men are more about events than feelings."

I think it was a compliment.  At least, I certainly hope it was.  And her words stuck with me because, to my mind, the best books, the best stories, the best movies, the best songs -- are all about feelings.  Love.  Fear.  Sadness.  Joy.  And the more we know about how a character is feeling, the more we can identify with that character.  The more we become invested in his or her story.

There's no better way to get to know the people around us than to find out what makes them laugh or cry or gets them angry or sends them dancing in the streets or forces them to scream in terror.  These moments usually hit without warning -- an unrehearsed reaction triggered by the unexpected -- and when we experience them, we are revealing our naked, unvarnished selves to the world.

The ability -- or inability -- to turn on the water works at the appropriate (or inappropriate) time, tells us a lot about our friends and family.  And the same goes for the characters we create. 

And because emotion is so universally understood, crossing all cultural and religious boundaries, utilizing it in our stories is a good way to draw readers in.  To make them care about and believe in our creations.

So when he's caught in a firefight, I'm less concerned about what type of gun my hero is shooting than I am about what he's feeling when he shoots it.  About the adrenaline pumping through him, about his concern for the woman or child or friend that he's protecting or trying to save.  And if he's faced with a devastating loss, I confess that I feel that loss as much as he does -- and will often find myself crying at the keyboard as I write the scene.

Yes, it's true.  And I'm sure I'm not the only writer in this crazy crowd who experiences this.

So you readers and writers out there, tell me what makes you cry.  What song, what movie, what book brings on tears so strong you find yourself sobbing.  We all have at least one.

I have several.  And I'm not ashamed to admit it.

----------------
HOUSE CLEANING:

A couple of weeks back I played a video created by Tess and me for Thrillefest Arizona.  A couple of you had guesses to the solution of the mystery and one of you actually got it right.  Here's the entire video now, from start to finish, with the solution intact.

The winner, who will know who he is, can email me at rob at robertgregorybrowne.com, or simply click on my name above, hit "email me" on my website and fill in the blanks.

Here it is:

Good Books, Bad Movies

by Rob Gregory Browne

Dusty's off today, so I'm filling in.  He'll pick things up next week.  In the meantime:

Like many of my writer friends, I absolutely love movies.  Almost as much as I love books.  And after years of watching movies, writing screenplays and, of course, reading and writing books, if there's one bit of wisdom I've always lived by, it's this:

Let's face it.  How many times have you read a truly wonderful book, only to see it destroyed by Hollywood?  Sometimes they get it right (Mystic River, Godfather, Gone Baby Gone), and sometimes they do it better (ha, you thought I was going to tell you the titles and insult some poor novelist?  Think again.) 

But most of the time, Hollywood screws it up.  Badly.

People who read my books often say to me, "Oh, this would make a wonderful movie."  Now, I agree that it would nice to see my books turned into movies, partially because of the financial rewards, but also because it would be exciting to see the books in a form I so love.  But chances are fairly good that my books would wind up unrecognizable on the screen.

And who would get the blame?  I'm guessing me.  A bad movie version of your book can, I believe, kill books sales.  Because, after all, if the movie stinks, the book must, too, right?

In fact, I was told recently that one very well-known author's career was severely damaged by the god-awful excuse for a movie they made of her book.  I have no verification of this bit of gossip, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were true.

What follows are a few book to movie translations that I think completely missed the mark.  I had a lot more, but for the sake of space, I pared it down to what I think are three of Hollywood's most egregious sins.  And I might as well start big.

.........

THE SHINING

Yes, you read that right.  This is one of Stephen King's most popular books and there have been two versions of it made for the screen.  But I'm not talking about the mini-series version.  I haven't seen it.  What I'm talking about is Kubrick's completely f'd up interpretation of the book.

I love Kubrick.  Paths of Glory is one of my favorite war movies.  Barry Lyndon another favorite.  A Clockwork Orange changed my life.  I even loved Eyes Wide Shut.  And I know there are people out there who absolutely love Kubrick's version of The Shining.   

But I just hated it.  What was supposed to be a suspensful, nerve-shattering horror story turned out to be a complete and utter bore.  Except for a nice reveal ("All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy"), and the last fifteen or so minutes when wife and son are being chased through the maze by crazy dad, this movie completely fails to deliver. 

Nicholson chews the hell out of the scenery and half the time Kubrick seems to be snoozing behind the camera.  If you're gonna do King, please, please, please give Rob Reiner, William Goldman or Frank Darabount a call.

BLACK DAHLIA

I don't even know where to begin with this one.  James Ellroy wrote the book.  Considered a masterpiece by many.  And when I heard Brian DePalma was doing the movie adaptation, I thought, hmmm, this might actually work.  DePalma is known for doing over-the-top set pieces, but it's usually over-the-top in a good way.

But Black Dahlia?  Brian, Brian, Brian -- what the hell were you thinking?  This movie wasn't just bad, it made no sense whatsoever.  Disjointed scenes.  Weird changes of tone.   Characters played as if they were all in different eras.  Scarlet Johanssen delivered her lines as if she were straight out of a really bad forties noir film, while Josh Hartnet seemed to be a fugitive from CSI Miami, minus the red hair.  And I don't put blame on the actors.  They're both normally very good.  But they were betrayed by De Palma and an unworkable screenplay.  (Sorry, Brian -- I love you, but...)

The Black Dahlia is a mess from beginning to end.  When it was over, my wife and daughter and I turned to one another and said, "WTF was that?" 

We still haven't gotten an answer.  I don't know how Ellroy felt about it, but I would've been crying.

FLETCH

This one is my biggest book to movie pet peeve of all. 

I absolutely love Gregory McDonald's dialog heavy mystery/thriller Fletch.  It moves quickly,  is a real page turner, and the plot is as clever as it is hip.  Fletch Is a tall, tanned, smart-ass beach bum reporter who gets tangled up in a murder plot. 

The first time I read it, back in the late seventies, I kept envisioning William Hurt or Jeff Bridges in the lead.  Today I could see Pitt or possibly even Clooney doing it.  But, of course, when Hollywood got hold of it, who got the role of Fletch?

Chevy Chase.   Chevy f'ing Chase.  And Chase played Fletch as if he were...well... I think you can figure it out.  With Chase at the wheel, Fletch became a buffoon.  Who wore outlandish disguises.   And never said or did anything remotely clever.

The ONLY thing that saved the movie was that they stayed fairly true to the plot.  And the sad thing about it?  Whenever you mention the book Fletch, the first thing that pops into people's mind is Chase.  Ugh.

I firmly believe that anyone who loved the movie -- and there are more than a few -- has never read the book.  Or, if they have, they read it AFTER they saw the movie.

Now I hear talk of a remake.  Ahh, finally, Hollywood gets a chance to redeem itself on this one.

So who's up for the role?  Zach Braff.  Zach Braff?  I mean, sure it's an improvement, but he isn't the Fletch I know and love.

........

So that's it.  It was tough to pare it down to just those three -- I could go on and on -- and I'm sure a lot of you could, too.

So tell me what books you think have been destroyed by Hollywood.  And while you're at it, tell us the ones you think worked.

HOUSEKEEPING

No, I haven't forgotten about the solution to the Gerritsen/Browne video mystery.  Due to technical difficulties, however, I'll have to show it next time.  But I can say that of the eight or so people who actually commented on the first part, one of them got the answer right.  So we have a winner -- to be revealed...

Videorati #3

by Rob Gregory Browne

In my short time in publishing, one of the great things I've discovered about the business is that you get to meet a lot of wonderful people.  People you never dreamed you'd get a chance to meet.

Years ago, while I was in the midst of my Hollywood phase, I longed to write a novel.  But I was one of those wannabes who are always planning to write that novel "some day" while never bothering to lift a finger to actually do it.

During a vacation to visit family in Hawaii, I was in the Honolulu Bookstore (which, sadly, no longer exists), browsing the magazine rack, when I saw an ad for a hot new thriller coming out by an author named Tess Gerritsen.  I looked at the photo and was pleasantly surprised.  Ms. Gerritsen looked like a "local girl," someone you might bump into at Ala Moana Shopping Center. 

Intrigued, I sought out her book, Harvest, and found myself falling instantly in love with her writing.  And I can't tell you what that did to my spirit.  Her obvious talent, along with the fact that she wrote the kind of book I loved, AND looked like someone I could have grown up with in Honolulu, gave me hope that I might one day do exactly what she had done.

Of course, it took me many years to get off my okole and finally do it.  But once I got my book deal with SMP, I sent Tess an email and she responded immediately and the next thing I knew, she was reading and blurbing my first book.   I discovered that Ms. Gerritsen was as classy as she looked in that author photo and I was thrilled to be exchanging emails with her.  I also found out that she had actually LIVED in Hawaii for many years and practiced medicine there.  So I actually COULD have bumped into her at Ala Moana.

I finally met Tess in the flesh at Thrillerfest Arizona.  And she's as much of a class act in person as she is via email.  Just prior to that meeting, she had contacted me about a presentation she was planning and I volunteered to help her put together a video segment.  It was a bit of a rush job, Tess writing the script, her husband shooting some of the witness footage and recording some audio, which they then sent to me. 

I shot more footage, added music, sound effects and some graphics and the video made its debut at that very first Thrillerfest.

The presentation was well attended, but I'm sure there are a lot of you out there who never got a chance to see it.  So, as a way of welcoming Tess to Murderati, I decided to show you the video here.  I've made a few changes.  Blurred out some of the autopsy images that made the Thrillerfest audience cringe, and changed another small section, but it's pretty much what Tess showed during that presentation.

Oh, and don't expect Emmy award winning material.  Far, far from it.  The guy who plays the cop is probably the worst actor on the planet, but he told me he had a lot of fun doing it.  Think of it as the neighborhood kids putting on a play.

What you'll see here was merely the beginning of Tess's wonderful presentation.  After you watch, skip down below for a follow-up and a chance to win something.   

Here we go:

Gerritsen-Browne Project

Okay, now that you've seen it, I hope you were paying attention, because the medical examiner at the end of the video was dead wrong about cause of death.

So your job?  Tell us what really killed this poor guy.  Yeah, I know, the clues are a bit sketchy -- most of it was filled out by Tess and Doug Lyle's follow-up, but take a guess anyway.

The first person who gets it right, wins a copy of my just released paperback KISS HER GOODBYE, along with the trade version of my recent UK release, WHISPER IN THE DARK.

Oh, and no cheating.  Anyone who saw the video at Tess's presentation or read the solution later is ineligible for the prize.  So, feel free to comment, but please refrain from giving away the answer. Next week, I'll show you the very brief ending, along with all the credits, and announce the winner.

And, answer or not, I hope you'll all join me in welcoming the lovely and talented Ms. Tess Gerritsen to Murderati.

Legacy

by Rob Gregory Browne

The last time I saw him, he looked as if he were sleeping.

But then I realized that there was an unnatural stillness there.  No gentle rise and fall of the chest, no sounds but the muffled cacophony of the hospital ICU unit just beyond the closed door.

What struck me was how small my father looked.  He was naked, except for a tiny modesty cloth draped over his midsection.  The tubes and wires that had been attached to him for the last few days had been removed, but he was still surrounded by machinery that dwarfed him.

I kept looking at his shoulders, thinking how long it had been since he had hoisted me onto them with an "Upsy-daisy," telling me to duck as we passed through the doorway into my room, where he'd deposit me onto the bed and tuck me in.  But the shoulders I was looking at weren't really my father's.  This wasn't really my father at all.  He was gone.  Had vacated the premises, leaving behind only this oddly childlike shell, a familiar but soulless vessel that would never again open its eyes and smile at me.

Now, here it is, over thirty years later and three days past Mother's Day, and as much as I love my mother, it's my father I'm thinking about.   Mostly because of what he's missed since the day he died.  What I've missed sharing with him.

My marriage.  My children.  My successes and failures.

Pretty much my entire life.

My father had a gift that I've always envied:  the ability to walk up to anyone, anytime, and start a conversation.  The ability to be instantly charming, never forced, always genuine, with a warmth and humor that made whoever was in his company feel accepted.  He was an unpretentious man, not a deep thinker but always interesting.  He spent the last years of his life -- his late fifties -- struggling with emphysema, unable to cross a room without huffing for breath. 

And thanks to a neglectful doctor, the disease finally took him.

When I was seventeen years old, I wrote my first television script.  I had long wanted to be a novelist, but had somehow gotten it into my head that I should write for TV.  Probably because the scripts were short and full of white space, and dialog came naturally to me.

When I was done with that script -- an episode of Harry-O -- my father read it, loved it and immediately started making phone calls. 

Anyone who has ever tried to break into Hollywood, especially the world of television, knows that it's nearly impossible to get someone to read your screenplay.  Yet two days later, my father had the name and address of one of Harry-O's producers, along with a promise to take a look at what I'd written. Within a few weeks, I got a letter back from the producer telling me that he thought my work had a lot of potential but that I had to be careful not to "overwrite."  Keep it lean.  Shorten the dialog.  Have your characters get to the point as quickly as possible.  And don't try to explain everything.

This was wonderful advice and encouragement that I never would have received if it hadn't been for my father.

A few months later, I finished my one and only attempt at writing an episode of The Rockford Files, and my father once again went to work.  This time, while at the local race track, he ran into one of the Rockford co-stars and convinced him to read it.  Nothing ever came of the gesture, but to this day I marvel at my father's salesmanship.

What I'll always carry with me, however, is how proud of me he was.  I can think of no greater gift a parent can give a child than the gift of pride.

Which is why it's so hard whenever I reach another milestone in my career.  He would have been so proud when I won the Nicholl.  Would have been bursting with it when I made my first deal with Showtime.  Would even have been excited to know I was writing episodes of Spider-Man for Fox Kids. 

And all these years later, working on my fourth book for St. Martin's, my father would be calling everyone he knows just to boast about me.

My father's pride is his legacy.  The part of him that most resonates with me whenever I think of him, even when I have a hard time picturing him beyond the small, still figure on that hospital bed.

I suppose I could have waited until Father's Day to say all of this.  Especially when we're still so close to the day we're supposed to be celebrating mothers.  But my mother is alive and well and has always shared in my successes --  and for that I'm grateful.

But this morning I'm compelled to talk about my dad.  Because, for me, every day is father's day.

And my only hope is that when I'm gone, my children will feel the same.

Lost in Translation

by Rob Gregory Browne

You know you've made it when you suck in German.

Last week Dusty talked about Amazon reviews and author reactions to them that are sometimes misguided if not downright crazy.  Dusty mentioned Tess Gerritsen, who has also written about negative reviews on her blog a few times, and she and I recently agreed via email that a good old fashion EXPLETIVE DELETED to an empty room can do a lot to cleanse the soul.

Good reviews are wonderful and make me momentarily feel as if I might actually know what I'm doing when I sit down to write a book, but the key word here is "momentarily." 

Bad reviews, however, seem to settle in deep and simmer for awhile -- perhaps even forever -- a constant reminder that I truly, truly suck and should probably give up this fantasy of ever being a "real" writer.

I like to pretend that I can simply shrug them off, but I think I'm fooling myself.  What's worse is that I can't find it within me to ignore the particularly depressing one-star monstrosities.  They're the proverbial train wreck that I can't stop gaping at -- except that I don't just happen upon them.  I actually seek them out.

Seem hard to believe?

I subscribe to a service called Google Alerts.  It's a pretty spotty little service, but the idea behind it is that every time your name is mentioned on the web, Google notifies you and gives you a link to the page that mentions you.

Last week, I got a notification that my name was mentioned on Audible Germany.  This isn't all that surprising considering I have an audio version of my book for sale there called DEVIL'S KISS (the German title for KISS HER GOODBYE).  When I went to the page, I discovered I had a few reviews for the book  and, surprise, surprise, one of them was a one-star.

So what did I do?  Did I shake my head and just walk away?

Ha.

Believe it or not, being the glutton for punishment I am, I actually copied the one-star review, written in German, took it over to my favorite translation website, Babelfish, and pasted it into the translator.

This is what popped out:

A book of point of zero, which was to be borne only by the speaker at all. A completely not-saying banal mixture of likewise banal already Trade Union of German Employees nature works such as Sutherlands/Roberts Flatliners (this nevertheless importantly more excitingly) and Steven Kings pseudophilosophical blood Erguessen...Completely unclearly that this ' work ' found at all a publisher and then even still into the lists of sales of Audibel succeeded, in order to bore our brains... Recommend the money to save!

Now, there's enough in that ridiculous "translation" to pretty much get the point across.  This guy thought my book sucked, big time. 

So what exactly was I thinking here?  Why on earth did I take it upon myself to translate this review in the first place?  Am I a complete masochist or what?

Fortunately, the same website had a couple of five-stars, one of which I feel duty bound to reprint here:

This ' Hoer' book has still somewhat differently than most of them, because according to my opinion reality, dream, fantasy, its and Nichtsein devoured so closely with one another is that one can become dizzy and the own imaginative power thus no borders are set. It works still for a very long time after...

Outstanding read. The individual characters come super more rueber and before the mental eye run off the book than film proper. For people, which do not only believe in the things those it see can, must. Much pleasure.

I'm not sure what a "Hoer" book is (it sounds a bit like a Long Island working girl), but the final words, "Much pleasure" are enough to give me that momentary reprieve from literary self-loathing I crave.

Yet despite my own pleasure, the phrase Recommend the money to save! (complete with exclamation point) from the one-star review keeps creeping back into my brain and, let's face it, it's my own goddamn fault for translating the sucker in the first place.

The saving grace here is something that all of us who have managed to get into print have to remember:  we have reviews.

Good or bad, it's truly a wonderful thing that we have reviews at all, and I'll take a bad review any day over not being published at all.  A bad review is proof that I've made it.  A bad review in German is proof that I've REALLY made it, because I can thank my lucky stars that people in Germany are actually reading my book.  In fact, I just got a royalty check from that amazing country, so you definitely won't hear me complaining.

So, go ahead, bring on those bad reviews.  Because no matter what they say, I know I am blessed to be doing what I love...........

So now, for the writers in the crowd, it's your turn.  Post a Bablefish translation of your favorite review, good or bad.  I just love to read those things.

Oh, and while I'm here, I guess I should plug KISS HER GOODBYE, which was released in mass market paperback here in the U.S. yesterday and can be found at your favorite bookstores and, I'm told, your local Walmart.

I guess I should brace myself for more reviews...

Random Chatter

by Rob Gregory Browne

Okay.  I got so caught up in getting the taxes ready, then my wife and I went through the lost-box-of-checks disaster Monday night, and Murderati completely slipped my mind.

The good news -- for me at least -- is that I had to pay enough taxes to make me feel like a real writer.  The bad news is that the Random Chatter banner above means I have nothing prepared for this week's entry, so I'll just throw a bunch of stuff out there and hope something sticks.

And my apologies to my fellow Murderati bloggers if I duplicate anything you've posted about lately.

CASTING YOUR BOOK

Marshal Zeringue is always doing interesting experiments with blogs and websites.  Over the last couple of years he has been doing The Page 69 Test, which I participated in last year.  The idea is for authors to post page 69 of their book and give a little back story on it.

Now Marshal has My Book, The Movie, which invites authors to come up with a dream cast for the movie version of their books.  It's actually a pretty great idea, especially for promotion, and I whole-heartedly agreed to participate.

The problem is, I have no idea who should play the lead in my book.  I love movies and can think of a lot of great actors out there who would do the part justice, but somehow NONE of them really seem to work for me.  Or maybe ALL of them do.

So while I struggle to come up with my own cast, I invite you to cast your book in the comments section --  although I don't want to step on Marshal's toes, so if you have any plans of posting on his blog, don't spoil it here.

RADIO ADS

Yesterday, I was looking into radio ads and discovered that I could hit 20 cities on a fairly popular radio talk show for about $600 for a week.  I'd get one 30 second spot per show, with a few extras thrown in.

Coming up with an audio spot would be no problem, since I have a background in production.  And since the paperback of KISS HER GOODBYE is coming out this month (shameless plug: April 29), I thought it might be a good idea to run one the first week of May.

The question however is this:  do radio spots work?  I've spoken to some who think they don't unless you're James Patterson or Michael Connelly.  What do you guys think?

THE THRILL OF A NEW BABY

Not the flesh and blood kind.  The new baby is WHISPER IN THE DARK, which is being released next month by Macmillan in the UK (the US version comes out in January 2009).

Anyway, a nice hardcover and trade version arrived in the mail yesterday and I have to say it's a wonderful thing.  A beautiful baby. 

So I thought I'd show it off here. 

I've been doing this for over two years now, but when I open the package and see that wonderful thing with my name on it, I have to say the thrill is as big as it ever was.  I've achieved the dream.  And I'm living proof that it's never too late to try.

But as I said, this is the UK version.  The U.S. cover will be completely different in color and style, but just as beautiful (I've seen it and love it, too!) -- and I'll, of course, be anxious to show it off when the time comes...

I'm rambling.  I will leave you now with promises for something much better next time.

A Cold Dark Place - Gregg Olsen

by Robert Gregory Browne

Ahhh.  Second novels.  What lovely thing.  This week we're doing something a little different here in Murderati land.  My friend and fellow Killer Year crew member, Gregg Olsen, celebrates the release of his second novel, A COLD DARK PLACE.  Taking place in the Pacific Northwest, A COLD DARK PLACE focuses on cop Emily Kenyon, a single mother whose teenage daughter, Jenna, becomes entangled in her current investigation. A family is murdered and the teenage son disappears. Jenna knows the boy and wants to help him. Emily finds herself investigating a murder and struggling to keep her daughter safe from a killer.

To help Gregg celebrate, I'm taking part in what he's calling a "progressive" interview.  Many of you have linked here from Karen Olson's post over at First Offenders and once Gregg is done answering my question, I'll be sending you over to another site for another question. Make sense? 

Here's my question to Gregg:

I love the title, A COLD DARK PLACE, which strikes me as a state of mind more than anything else.  I think everyone has a cold, dark place.  What's yours?

"I've never been diagnosed, but I'm sure my family would say there's a touch of the oh-so-chic bi-polar lurking somewhere inside my psyche. I think that's true of so many writers, artists, and Wal-Mart greeters, don't you? I wonder how many other writers out there share my feeling of hope, then despair, over and over on a loop that drives everyone around you just a little crazy, too?

Most of the things that see-saw my state of mind deal with elements beyond my control and most of them, oddly, deal with the business of publishing. How many books were printed? Shipped? Was there any promotion? How much? Being a success in terms of sales has more to do with those furthest from the creative endeavor. That drives me UP AND DOWN. What about you?"

Thanks, Gregg.  My own cold, dark place is actually reflected in the recurring theme throughout my work, which is the fear of losing a loved one, particularly my children.  I think every parent has that fear, but I feel it pretty deeply sometimes, so deep, apparently, that I feel the need to write about it a lot.

Now, before you shoot over to  Laura James's blog, why don't you in the peanut gallery tell me what YOUR cold, dark place is?

 

Up the Down Elevator

by Robert Gregory Browne

Whenever somebody asks me what one of my books is about, I find myself having a pretty tough time coming up with a concise answer to the question.  Usually, I mumble and stammer as I try to plow my way through a short synopsis of the story and the reaction is often glazed eyes.

There's something that just seems WRONG about having to boil your story down to a few sentences. 

A couple years back, when I was gearing up to do a panel at Bouchercon, I knew I'd have to come up with a quick pitch for my book, KISS HER GOODBYE, so I struggled for awhile and finally went with this:

"It's about an ATF agent whose daughter is kidnapped and buried alive, and the very unusual lengths he has to go to in order to save her."

Like I said.  Glazed eyes.   

I had an even tougher time with my next book, WHISPER IN THE DARK (coming out on May 2 in the UK!):  "A young psychiatrist agrees to examine a patient believed to be a witness to a savage killing, only to discover that she's a dead ringer for his recently murdered wife."

Crickets.

The thing is, both of these stories are too complex to be summed up in a couple lines.  Especially WHISPER.  But I try.

When I was at Left Coast Crime a couple weeks ago -- yes, Pari, I was there, but unofficially, so I mostly hung out in the bar -- I took along my video camera to get a few elevator pitches from my fellow authors.

Here are a few.  And my apologies to those of you who are missing from this video.  I had some technical difficulties (screwed up sound) that forced me to exclude you. 

The Art of the Elevator Pitch from Robert Gregory Browne on Vimeo.

Now it's everyone else's turn.  Published or unpublished, give me your best elevator pitch for your latest book.

The Great Beyond

by Robert Gregory Browne

When I was fifteen years old, my uncle had a heart attack and died.

A few minutes later, a stubborn doctor brought him back to life.

When he was asked about those few minutes, my uncle refused to talk about them. I sensed that whatever happened to him “out there” must have scared the hell out of him.

This was the beginning of my fascination with the near-death experience.

NDE is not uncommon. Millions of people around the world claim to have experienced it, most of them reporting the usual trappings we’ve all heard about:

Out of body travel. Tunnel. Bright light. The presence of long-departed loved ones.

Many tie this to a religious experience, but these elements cross all cultural and spiritual boundaries. Scientists have suggested that what NDE survivors go through is merely a kind of death dream caused by chemicals in the brain, but it seems odd to me that most survivors dream pretty much the same thing.

It also seems odd that many of the survivors are able to report what doctors and loved ones have said in the room – after they were clinically dead.

Based on my uncle’s refusal to talk about his trip to the great beyond, however, I’ve long had the feeling that the experience as described is not universal. For some of us, there is a darker version of the journey. A scarier version.

And that idea, of course, attracted me as a writer.

When I think of my book, KISS HER GOODBYE, which comes out in paperback next month, I look at it as essentially a crime thriller. It’s the story of an ATF agent whose daughter is kidnapped and buried alive, and the unusual lengths a desperate father has to go to in order to save her.

All the elements of a crime thriller are there, but I also wanted to give the reader a slightly different experience, one that allowed me to explore some of the questions about near-death and the afterlife.

These are questions we all think about from time to time. What’s out there? How will it affect me? Will it be painful? Exhilarating? Scary?

Most people are frightened by it. Call me weird, but I think of Death as simply another step in the adventure, wherever it may lead. And while I don’t look forward to any pain associated with dying, I do think Death itself will be an amazing journey.

But that’s me.

I’m curious to know what you think. What’s waiting out there for you?

How Far is Too Far?

by Robert Gregory Browne

I read a lot of books. I read whole books and parts of books. I read two and three books at a time. Walk around my house and you’re likely to see a number of them cracked open and waiting for me to pick them up.

Recently I started a reading a new book, but suddenly had to quit.   I couldn't go forward.  And I want to tell you why.

What follows is not meant to be a criticism of this particular book. I haven’t read the whole thing, so how can I possibly criticize? I will say this, however: the person who wrote it can write. I mean, REALLY write.

And while what he’s writing would likely be characterized as melodrama, there is nothing melodramatic about his writing. There is a certain minimalist grace to his prose that I wish I could manage.

I was immediately swept up by his style, his tone and his story. And, judging by the critical attention the book has gotten, I’d say that I’m one of the few who actually stopped reading.

But now to the why.

I don’t want to risk giving anything away, so I’ll be fairly vague about the storyline. But let me boil it down to its essence — at least what I know of the story.

It’s about a man who has an affair and how that affair causes his life to take a sudden and devastating wrong turn. It all hums along at a good clip, keeping the reader intrigued. They meet, they flirt, they fall in lust… Then there is an incident about forty or so pages into the book that is so awful, so invasive, so repellent that I simply had to put it down.

I can’t describe that incident to you.  But let’s just say you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy.

And as I set the book down, telling myself that I didn’t think I’d continue reading, I had to ask why? (Yes, I’m getting to it.)

Was it because the incident in question was too intense? Too graphic? No, I don’t think so. I’m not particularly bothered by graphic scenes and, frankly, as far as graphic goes, my own mind did most of the work — a sign that I’m dealing with a very good writer.

But here’s the thing: no matter what happens in the rest of the book, no matter how happy the ending might be, no matter who lives or dies, who kisses and makes up, who is rescued from evil —

– it’s all too late.

Because once the incident in question happens, nothing any of the characters might do from that moment forward can change that fact. No matter how wonderful everything turns out in the end — and I’m assuming it will — there is nothing the author can do to erase that awful, awful moment and somehow make it better.

Well, there is ONE thing the author could do. Probably what I would do, if I were writing the book. A major twist could change everything --

-- But I can’t count on that happening. And because I was so devastated by that one act, that one scene, that one irrevocable moment, I lost all desire to go forward, even if a major twist will change it all.  The damage has been done.

So I have to ask, how far is too far? 

While I’d never say we’re obligated as writers to make everything smiley and happy — quite the opposite if you want to write readable books — I do think that we take a huge risk when we treat a character so brutally that the smiley happy moments can’t erase what we’ve done.

As I said, I think the author is a wonderful writer.  In fact, I just picked up another of his books.

But that one scene just killed it for me. Maybe I cared too much. Maybe it’s because the writer has done his job. But it got to me and I felt sick to my stomach and just didn’t want to go forward.

I won't name the book here, because I don't think it would be fair to the author.

But I'm curious to know if any of you have ever had a similar experience, where you felt the author had somehow crossed the line and you just couldn't read any further?