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![[IMAGE]](images/newsltr4.jpg) Winter, 2003 - Vol. 2, Number 1
ALL POINTS BULLETIN
By Carl Brookins
Bob Dylan said it, "the times they are a-changin'." Tart Noir, Femmes Fatales, Deadly Divas, Minnesota Crime Wave. Costumes, web sites, touring groups, newsletters, schtick. What's happening is a small revolution. Once upon a time a relatively few individuals, know as authors, labored away in semi-isolation and sold their work to publishers who first determined what would be published, then produced, distributed and marketed the books. Today, with the changes in technology almost anyone can produce a book. Whether they should is a different topic. Publishers now expect the author to play a major role in bringing her book to public notice. And with more and more books being published each year, the difficulties of separating oneself and one's book from the crowd becomes more difficult.
Successful authors hire publicists, school themselves in public appearances and develop new personas, all to help sell their work. It is necessary. In the last decade the publishing world has both contracted and expanded, due in part to changing economics and to changes as well in technology, technology that makes it possible to produce e-books, and POD books and economical short runs. Bookstores must make choices among thousands of new books each year. Even established authors have to help bookstores make those choices, have to demonstrate a willingness and an ability to call attention to themselves. In the new millennium more changes will occur, apparently at an ever more rapid pace. But do not mistake the frivolity and the laughter or the costume for lack of professionalism or an absence of serious purpose. This is not your father's publishing enterprise. Bobby Dylan had it right. The times they are most definitely changing.
DAVID HOUSEWRIGHT
Interviewed by Ellen Hart
Ellen: First off, what caused you to become a crime writer?
David: I didn't actually plan on writing crime novels, it just worked out that way. I suspect it's because of every four books I read, three fit the genre. You write what you know.
Ellen: What writers have influenced you?
David: Jarnes M. Cain and Ross Thomas are my heroes—Cain for the efficiency of his prose (he put more in 100 pages than the rest of us do in 300) and Thomas because of the complexity of his plots and eccentricity of his characters.
Ellen: What surprised you—negatively and positively—about "the writing life"?
David: On the positive side, the pure pleasure of walking into a book store and seeing your titles on the shelf has never lessened. The negatives, on the other hand, are almost too numerous to list. To put it simply, I've discovered in the past six years that publishing is barely a business and any writer who depends on his publisher for anything—including a comfortable living—is headed for disappointment.
![[cover]](images/housewright.jpg) Ellen: Is Holland Taylor, the sleuth in your series, based on you?
David: Not really. Taylor, as well as new characters Rushmore McKenzie and Genevieve Bonalay certainly have many of my sensibilities, interests, and what a friend calls my "smart-assness." But they're not based on me (although you could argue that ALL of my characters are based on me, including the evil-doers). After my first book was published, an acquaintance suggested my life-long dream was to be Travis McGee. Actually, my life-long dream was to be John D. MacDonald. Think of it that way.
Ellen: What was it like to win the Edgar, the biggest award in mystery fiction?
David: My relationship with the Edgar keeps changing. It gave me instant (if undeserved) credibility as a writer and certainly "Edgar winner" looks nice on book jackets and in press releases. On the other hand, if I really was the coolest thing since individually wrapped cheese slices, why am I having such a tough time getting my fourth book published? Still, like I told my wife on the plane coming home from New York, the first sentence of my obituary has now been written—"Edgar-Award winning mystery novelist David Housewright died..." So, I have that going for me.
Ellen: You teach a class at the Loft on fiction writing. Can you tell us a little about the course?
David: The course I teach is the one I would have taken when I was in school if it had been offered. It's a craft-based course (as opposed to "art"—don't get me started) that deals with the basic elements that go into a successful book—plotting, character development, dialogue, etc. I tell students not to worry about theme. First learn how to put two interesting, coherent sentences together, then worry about theme.
Ellen: What advice would you give to young writers?
David: Write the damn book! No excuses. Just write it. I must have met a thousand people in the past half dozen years who would be on the NY Times best-seller list today if only yada, yada, yada.The chief difference between me (you, Kent, Deborah, Carl) and all those novelist wannabees is that I will find a way to finish the book while they will find a way not to.
Ellen: What are you currently working on?
David: I am shopping three new series (since Norton seems to have lost interest in Holland Taylor) featuring a Travis McGee-like adventurer (Rushmore McKenzie), a 23-year-old female private detective (Rebecca Blade) and her 70-something mentor, and a young, rich, jazz clarinet-playing criminal lawyer (Genevieve Bonalay)—think of her as a female Peter Gunn. My agent has very high hopes for McKenzie (she says A Hard Ticket Home is the best thing I've ever done). As for the others, we'll see.
THE WAVIE: THE MINNESOTA CRIME WAVE AWARD OF DISTINCTION
Welcome the Wavie! In our never-ending quest for fun and frolic, we instituted our own award of distinction in the crime genre: the Wavie. The Wavie will be given in recognition of outstanding achievement by a genre author in any one of a number of esoteric categories. The first Wavie was awarded in January 2003 in the category of "Best Last Lines." The winner is:
"I rode down to the street floor and went out on the steps of the City Hall. It was a cool day and very clear. You could see a long way—but not as far as Velma had gone."
—Raymond Chandler, Farewell, My Lovely
Honorable mentions:
"'At least there are no pelicans to do me damage here,' I said, moments before the hawk attacked."
—Peter Guttridge, Foiled Again
"Fuckin' endings, man, they weren't as easy as they looked."
—Elmore Leonard, Get Shorty
The next Wavie will be given for "Most Hilarious Dedication." Nominations are due by the end of April. Don't miss this opportunity to dig through every book you have and see your name and opinion honored in this prestigious publication. E-mail your nomination to: minnesotacrimewave@yahoo.com or write us at 1239 Edmund Avenue, St. Paul, MN, 55104.
EXPANDING YOUR M.O.: STARTING A SECOND SERIES
By Deborah Woodworth
Okay, I admit it. I'm the kind of person who automatically locates the exits when entering a room full of people I don't know. Especially when they all know each other. And I wore the wrong thing, and they've turned en masse to stare at me, the corners of their lips quivering with barely suppressed laughter. You get the point. So beginning to write a second series has been a special challenge for me; the characters are strangers, and I'm not yet convinced I like them. On the other hand, it's proving to be a lot of fun—and I'm learning a thing or two, as well. I love writing the Shaker series, and Sister Rose and I have come to be quite comfortable with one another.
Maybe too comfortable. Like all series writers—well, most anyway—I worry about getting stale, from which it is a short step to achingly boring. Naively, I thought starting a new and very different series would be just the thing to freshen the writing process for me. Going back and forth between two series sounded stimulating. I forgot to take into account a few minor details like commercial publishing time, which is comparable to the speed of light. Publishers expect, at minimum, a book a year per series. That means two books a year if you write two series, three a year for three series... You do the math. If, as often happens, each series has a different publisher, you might find yourself with two books due the same month. For those of us—and we know who we are—who live by the principles of procrastination, this can be a real shock.
Characters tend to develop over the course of a series, and the setting becomes second nature. Beginning the next book is like visiting old friends; the conversation takes off quickly and tensions pop up right on cue. It's easier to think about writing two books a year when you've forgotten what it's like to create a whole new world, with new characters, a different setting, and maybe a very different voice. My new protagonist is quirkier, funnier (I hope), and more "of the world" than Sister Rose, and the story is told in first person. Establishing her character took weeks and several rewrites, and she is still emerging. If you hate getting uninvited advice, stop reading here.
For the rest of you... By all means, start a second series. It really does stir up the old gray matter, probably even prevents Alzheimer's, though don't quote me on that. Flex those writing muscles, and have some fun doing it. However, give yourself some time to develop your story and characters, maybe even draft half a manuscript or more, before you pitch it. If the series idea is underdeveloped, it is more likely to elicit those pesky rejections. If it's accepted based on a sketchy few sentences and your past record, you might find yourself sleeping on your keyboard as you try to make the deadline—and you might turn in your draft only to find that your editor was expecting something other than what you wrote. Give yourself and your idea some time. On the other hand, if the rent is due and you're living on ketchup soup, just go for it.
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
By William Kent Krueger
I'm about to go on tour. Again. This time it's to promote my new stand-alone thriller, The Devil's Bed. I've toured nationally with every book I've written. Sometimes I've put the tour together myself, sometimes my publisher has helped. It doesn't make much difference who does the work (although it does make a big difference who foots the bill), there are circumstances on every tour that are always the same, and that, over the years, I've learned to deal with. So, let me offer you a bit of what I've learned. Here are six pearls of wisdom to keep in mind when facing the long road of a promotional tour.
1. It's okay to drive several hours to an independent bookstore event only to find that your audience consists solely of the bookseller and the bookseller's cat. It happens to every author. There's an upside. Be gracious. Pet the cat. Sign all the stock. And I guarantee that the bookseller will twist the arm of every customer who comes after you've gone to ensure that all your signed books sell.
2. Smile a lot. Even when a well-meaning bookseller or fan tells you what's wrong with your most recent novel, simply smile and nod and promise absolutely that next time you will put a cat in the story.
3. Take a good book to read. A tour is the perfect opportunity to catch up on all the reading that didn't get done while you were working furiously against your last deadline. Not only is a book good company in a lonely hotel room, but you can use it on a plane to avoid having to talk to Ed, the insurance salesman in the seat next to you, whose breath could warp a steel plate.
4. Send confirmation letters to every bookstore at which you will appear. Fail to do this and you risk arriving at a store where they don't expect you, or worse, have never heard of you or your books. Embarrassing. For everybody.
5. Be prepared to show your driver's license to prove you're you. Dust jacket photos are either glamour shots, and nobody ever really looks that way; or they're hideous, and none of us wants to admit we look that way. Or, if you've submitted to your publisher a dust jacket photo taken twenty years ago in your prime, you will probably have to prove that the feeble, gray-haired person who has arrived to sign books is really you, the author.
6. Whenever possible, travel with another author or two. It makes the trip far more interesting. If you get along with one another, fine. If not, it becomes a wonderful opportunity to think up new methods of murder.
In truth, I get a kick out of touring, in company or alone. I enjoy visiting with booksellers and with fans. It's hard work, exhausting and often lonely, but it's part of the business, a business I happen to love. So, here's hoping I see you on the road somewhere.
Read back issues:
Winter, 2002 - Vol. 1, Number 1
Spring, 2002 - Vol. 1, Number 2
Fall, 2002 - Vol. 1, Number 3
Winter, 2003 - Vol. 2, Number 1
Spring, 2003 - Vol. 2, Number 2
Fall, 2003 - Vol. 2, Number 3
Spring, 2004 - Vol. 3, Number 1
Fall, 2004 - Vol. 3, Number 2
Spring, 2005 - Vol. 3, Number 3
Fall, 2005 - Vol. 3, Number 4
Spring, 2006 - Vol. 4, Number 1
Fall, 2006 - Vol. 4, Number 2
Spring, 2007 - Vol. 5, Number 1 |
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