The Man With No Shame

By Jay "The Nature Boy" Stringer

Something a bit different this week. I'm here to talk about the glory of me.

Only Joking. But no, really.

I've actually been pretty light on the self promotion since we started this here site. Truth is I'm not very good at it. The quickest way to get me to shut up at a party is to ask me about my writing. For some reason, I just can't do it. I am the king of one or two word answers, which probably gives off the impression that I'm a lousy writer. What do you write about? "Oh, I dunno, crime, stuff." Oh, I like crime, is it like Martina Cole? "No." And that's about my lot.

Truth is, the more I've become a writer, the less I've wanted to talk about it. Part of it it the writing process, I think. A wit will think of a funny thing to say on the spot. A writer will think of the perfect thing to say an hour later. And then talk to himself about it.

I cant be pretentious and put it all down to being a 'writer' though, because there are plenty of fine writers out there who are good at the hustle. In fact in the modern world a writer needs to have that about them. They need to be their own campaign manager in an election race. They need to be a rainmaker as much as a page turner.

And I have a lot of respect for the writers who can do that, because each time I try, I fail. My greatest concern about my own career, whatever that is, rests with the fact that I'm most comfortable being allowed to sit and work on my stories. The hustle side of things is a struggle for me, and my attempts to develop it never go well.

How about you guys? Lets hear about how you learned the hustle, or how difficult you find it. What are the best examples of writers who've found the right balance in the modern day?

And now back to the glory of me. I have a few news tidbits to throw out there, so here goes.

Firstly, as of April next year you will be able to plonk down some of your hard earned cash on a book that has by name in it. One of my shorts is being collected in The Mammoth Book Of Best British Crime 8. I'm very proud to be published in the anthology alongside writers like Ian Rankin, Ray Banks, Al Guthrie and Stuart MacBride.

If you check out the full list, you'll also see a few names regular to the comments here at DSD and on 'the circuit,' like Nigel Bird and Paul D. Brazil. It's great to be alongside them. Thanks go to Maxim Jakubowski for putting it all together, and to the tartan ninja for the push.

How to follow that up?

Well, with another one I guess. Coming very soon from Untreed Reads is the ebook anthology Discount Noir. I get to share a billing with more of my favourite writers. Hell, that's McFet over there. And Weddle. And that shifty Bryon Q fella. Looking at the list of contributors really is something, over the next few years that's going to become a who's who of great crime writers.

Thanks on that one go to Patti Abbott and Weddle for their hard work, to Untreed Reads for joining in on the heist, and to worlds best agent Stacia Decker for making it all work.

Yes, that's right, we're taking over.

And one final plug. The good folks over at Matinee Idles let me sit in on another show, this one focusing on Chris Nolan's first film Following. It was a lot of fun, and I think we covered a lot of ground. Give it a listen, and check out the website. You might see a familiar writer on there. Cough. Cough.

And this one's not really self promotion. Mr Banks put me onto some good music and, against my best snobbish instincts, I'm going to share. Going to see C.W.Stoneking live was an absolute blast, it felt somehow like being in the middle of an episode of Treme. So check him out if you haven't already.

Labor Daze

By Steve Weddle

Today is Labor Day, the day we set aside to honour the recent contribution to letters made by Tony Blair, former prime minister of the Britains.

Hahaha. Yeah. It's the day we in the colonies set aside to let our work pile up in order to make Tuesday the Following more of a hell.

So you're not supposed to do work on Labor Day. But the Pharisees said I could work on Labor Day if I pull my ox out of the ditch.

And speaking of work and reading and writing, here's something you can help me with -- um, with which you can help me, Mr Prime Minister.

You know when you finish a novel and then lean back in your chair as you set the book aside? That perfect moment in which you savor the moment of completion? The beginning of that opportunity, that beautiful land of openness in which you can now read whatever book you want. That moment, that's what makes life worth living, isn't it? Kinda like when you started a new year at school and you had all your notebooks and you hadn't messed them up with IRON MAIDEN RULES pen-carved into the covers.

The brightness of possibility.

That's why I love reading. I can pick up someone I've never read and find out why everyone loves this writer. I can hit the latest cool thing and join in on the discussion. I can crack open some Chekov I haven't read before and find out what really happened on the Starship Enterprise.

And then, every so often, the pain comes. That awful moment when you realize the book is crap. That you like this and that, but can't stand such-and-such. And you have to decide whether it's worth it to read the book.

The first 100 pages of DRAGON TATTOO, for example.

The first day on the job, the finding where the doughnuts are kept, the fresh office supplies -- suddenly this becomes work.

What do you do then?

Whether it's reading or writing, at some point, sometimes this becomes work. Maybe it's when the publisher sends the edits back. Maybe it's book tours. Maybe it's plotting.

For readers, maybe the first thirty pages are work for you. Maybe starting a book is tough. Or maybe it's getting lost in all the characters.

When does the book -- whether reading or writing -- become work for you? Does it happen often or rarely?

For me, hand-writing ideas is never work. I like to scrawl out thoughts and characters and dialogue on paper. When it becomes work is when I have to move one scene to the next, when I have to accomplish all I wanted to. When I have to get all the little pieces to meet, like a jigsaw puzzle when I don't yet have all the pieces -- or any idea what the picture is supposed to be.

And that point when I'm reading that I force myself to get to page such-and-such. Another 20 pages and if it doesn't get better, I'm giving up.

Sometimes there's nothing better than reading and writing through the holiday. And sometimes, you know, it's like pulling an ox out of a ditch.
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Bonus: Contest at NEEDLE.

A Rose By Any Other Name

by Joelle Charbonneau

Okay. I’m confused. I’m hoping some of you can help me out. This week, I saw a moniker for the first time that made me blink. Maybe it’s been out there for a while and I’m lagging behind the pack. With the impending release, I tend to be less plugged in. (Who am I kidding – I’m always lagging behind, but the release gives me a great excuse so I’m using it.) Anyway, this week, several self-published authors have begun using the term “independently published” to describe their publishing path.

Up front, let me say that I am not against self-publishing. I think every author has to decide what is right for his or her own career and make a choice as to how best to pursue it. Self-publishing has and always will be a viable option. Some argue that the rise of the e-book has made it a better option than traditional publishing. Hey – it might be. It gives authors total control of their books (which freaks me out – because I am not certain I should ever have total control of anything) and the right to set pricing. It also gives authors a way to connect with readers without going through a middleman. If this option feels right to an author, I say go for it.

But the thing I don’t get is the new “indie published” label. Saying a book is indie published doesn’t change that it has been self-published. It’s kind of like saying a duck isn’t a duck if I call it a goose. Changing the name doesn’t change the content. So why do it at all?

I’ve also noticed that some of the authors using this new label are very aggressive in pushing back when someone questions it. They are offended if someone calls them self-published. Why? If you act as your own publisher, you have self-published a book. Why would someone be offended by that term?

The only thing I can come up with is that these authors think that changing “self-published” to “independently published” is going to make people take their work more seriously. Personally, I think the content will do that more than the label. If a book is well-written, well-edited and entertaining, I don't care what you call it. Do you?

So, help me out here. What is the logic that I’m missing behind saying you are independently published versus self-published? What am I missing?

Comic Review: Joker by Brian Azzerello and Lee Bermejo

by Scott D. Parker

Of all the things Heath Ledger did for the character of the Joker, making the Clown Prince of Crime a thug tops my list. I’ll not go so far as to say that the comic book version of Joker was genteel. He was always a murderous character, more so in the last twenty-five years. But you always got the sense that the Comic Book Joker didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Sure, he’s shoot you but he’s leave it up to someone else to clean up the mess.

Not so with Ledger’s Joker. He’s a thug. He’s dirty. He’s vicious. And he’d just as soon stab you with a knife and have you bleed on his hand as shoot you. It was a characteristic of Joker that I welcomed. It’s the difference between noir and pulp. Pulp is fun, gritty at times, but, in the end, kinda light. Noir is dark, brutal, always gritty, seamy, unsettling.

With the original graphic novel, Joker, that sensibility is alive and well. Joker is noir.

The graphic novel is about Joker but it’s also about Jonny Frost. He’s the narrator, a young punk who doesn’t know what he’s getting into when he agrees to go pick up Joker from Arkham Asylum. It seems someone thought the Joker cured and got him released. Wonder if that doctor isn’t an inmate in the asylum. Nonetheless, Frost picks up Joker and starts his crash course in revenge, Joker-style.

Another difference with Ledger’s Joker is his obsession with controlling the crime in Gotham. As that stack of money burns, Ledger’s Joker announces he controls Gotham now. In the comics, you never really got the sense that Joker was after power or control. He was just out to have some demented fun at everyone else’s expense. Azzerello’s Joker is, again, more in the Ledger vein than previous incarnations. Joker, upon his release, discovers that his organization has gone to the crapper. And he’s out to fix that situation no matter how many bodies pile up.

The first body is that of Monty, the man who is a lieutenant in Joker’s army who didn’t please the master well during the master's absence. Literally, Monty is skinned alive. Frost is shocked (as are we readers) but then Joker gives a little speech. And Frost is…awestruck. The artwork by Lee Bermejo is painted, not your typical four-color art. Every frame is beautiful despite its occasional grisly nature. The frame with a starstruck Jonny Frost tells more than an hundred words. Jonny Frost is in the spell of the Joker.

The story progresses as we watch Joker, Frost, and Harley Quinn (a stripper) go see various members of Gotham’s rouges gallery. “Killer” Croc is a big-ass black man with acne scars. Croc is drawn so huge on the page that it feels like the white frames surrounding the artwork won’t be enough to hold him in. Abner (aka Penguin) is the moneyman of Gotham, something Joker doesn’t have enough of and something that he craves. Two-Face is here and he seems to be as vain as Harvey Dent used to be before a punk threw acid on his face. He’s the big cheese, too. It’s all about Joker getting back what’s his from Two-Face. And the Riddler, er, Edward Nigma, is here and he’s, well, weird.

All this is to say that this is almost an alternate universe kind of thing but it speaks to what makes the Joker tick just as good as 1988's The Killing Joke or other famous Joker-centric stories. There’s a few scenes of honest empathy if you’ll allow yourself to feel for a psychopath. In one crucial four-page sequence, Joker takes a broken bottle to the face of another thug, blows up a building, and then, is seen crying and hugging on Harley. This is almost as shocking as the violence.

If Joker’s involved, you just know Batman will eventually make an appearance. For the most part, however, he's merely a looming presence off-screen. To be honest, the way the story moves, I didn’t need Batman to show up. I knew he was coming...and I almost didn't want him to. Just as I enjoy the Gotham Central comics (featuring the police officer of the G. C. P. D.), I was quite enjoying all the criminals without the hero. But he’s called (you’ll never guess by whom and how) and dispatched. Quick as lightening, the story wraps up.

A bit too quickly for my tastes. The ending, while decent, wasn’t the gee-whiz ending of, say, The Killing Joke or Branded Woman by Wade Miller. It was just an ending. It spoke to why the Joker was released from the asylum but never really answered the question why he was released. Unless the answer is in some subtext, I missed it.

Azzarello can do believable dialogue with the best of’em. It’s fun seeing these hardened, yet flamboyant criminals talk trash to each other. In a cast full of insanity, it’s even fun to read two of them joke about a third person:

Abner/Penguin: Someone is very sore at you.
Joker: Really? That’s wonderful news. I just like to make him sore. It’s what drags me out of bed.
Abner/Penguin: No, not him. Though I’m certain he’s not very happy about what you’ve been up to either. I’m speaking of Dent.
Joker: Harvey’s mad? Which one?
Abner/Penguin: Ha!
Joker: You think it’s funny, Abner?
Abner/Penguin: I think it’s a fair question. I don’t know how to answer it.

What about Jonny Frost? Well, let’s just say he’s us. He’s the “us” who looks at the movies and comics and sees all the havoc created by a man who looks like a clown and thinks “That’s cool. I want to be like the Joker.” Jonny Frost thinks that, too, at the beginning. He gets his first row seat to the madness that is Joker. Jonny looks into the abyss and makes a decision. It’s the most crucial decision of his life.

What this book boils down to, for me, is this: it’s a kind-of sequel to 2008's “The Dark Knight.” Visually, Joker is drawn as the perfect blend of Ledger’s Joker with the comic book Joker. Characteristically, he’s more Ledger’s Joker than the gentlemanly version from the comics. You get in the head of a killer. And you see things you never expected. Just be sure to go into the story with an open mind. It’s a good story and well worth your time.

Coming to America...

By Russel D McLean

First time I went to the states I was 12. My memories are a hazy blur, if I'm honest, but more than a few images stick in my mind. Food mostly. My first proper buffet experience, Denny's breakfasts (hey, I was tweleve and breakfast here is like, a bowl of cereal), tacos the size of my head and so many other delights.

Since then I've been back several times... once during an unsuccesful application to NYU (I was going to my PhD there and foolishly decided Bristol uni offered a better course) and again for Bouchercons in Chicago, Madison and then Baltimore. I've been to NYC twice now, and still love the city, because it lived up to everything I imagined and then some. Something in the air excites me about the place. Its the people, too. I've made so many friends over the course of these trips, and one of the reasons I love going back is to see them and also to see who else I can bump into. Also, I dig the US indy bookstores, and maybe it says something that after the Madison Bouchercon I was followed home by seven large boxes of books that came via the mail.

"So, Russel," I hear you say, "What is the rambling of your love for the US leading us to?"

Oh, you're well ahead of me, you terrible smart people. Yes, I'm just wrapping things up now, but I am proud to announce a small US tour prior to what will be a wonderful event in San Francisco, this year's Bouchercon.

Its only a few dates, but I'd like to thank all the stores who have been willing to let me invade their premises. So if you're in the US and find yourself in need of coming to see a beardy Scotsman, then check out these locales:

7 October, I'll be kicking things off with the lovely folks at Once Upon a Crime in Minneapolis. I've never been to Minneapolis before, but let me tell you this: I'm looking forward to it. Come along and hear me ramble at 7pm.

On October 8, I'll be heading out early to make a beeline for Texas where in the evening, I'll be appearing at Houston's wonderful Murder by the Book. Again, I've never been to Houston, but they tell me its fairly hot out that way. This means I will not be wearing my big leather jacket.

A few days rest (I'll be seeing some friends at this point, more than likely) means I'll be in Scottsdale, Arizona for an event at The Poisoned Pen on 11 October. This last gig thanks to a wonderful reader I met at this year's Harrogate who pleaded the case for my appearance at the store.

And then?

Well, then its San Fran, baby, where it'll be a blowout for Bouchercon, baby. Although I'll be very nervous about going in any cars through the city just in case this happens:



So if you find yourself at any of these places on any of these dates, do come along and say hello. I'll look forward to seeing you! And do keep an eye on my other blog just in case some other dates appear (or I can give you info on places where I'll be simply leaving behind signed stock)

It's Been a Busy Week

And now school's starting, so I'm going to repost and old Dave White Blog post and see what you guys think:

From 2009:

What Movie Got Your Into Writing?



One of the questions I often ask writers is: What book got you into writing?

There are a lot of answers, naturally. Writers range from Lehane to Chandler to Mosely to Hemingway to Shakespeare.

And all are understandable.

But I've been thinking about it, and while there are several books that got me into writing (and I'm sure I've mentioned them here), I can only think of one movie.

I saw In the Line of Fire in the theaters with my parents. It was probably in the summer between 8th and 9th grade. I also remember seeing the preview for it when I saw GROUNDHOG DAY.

The preview was John Malkovich, in a voice over, talking about killing the President. While that was happening, all you saw on screen was 1963. The sound of a ticking clock. The "6" spun around to become a "9." At the end of the voice over, Clint Eastwood slams down the phone and says "That's not gonna happen."

I was all in.

We saw it in the theater, and my heart was in my throat as Clint looked through the SEATING CHART (!!) to find Malkovich. When he got dragged on to the elevator at the end. Hell, the rooftop chase. Learning the correct way to spell "ukulele."

Great movie. Still holds up.

And I remember renting the movie and watching it again with my family. And I remember a scene--a montage--late in the film where the Secret Service is planning for the President's arrival and Malkovich is putting on his fatsuit disguise.

And I absently said, "I wonder how this would read in a book."

My parents started talking about how they'd do it, chapter by chapter with about twenty pages of description. How it would be all about building suspense and pacing. I started to play with it in my mind. How would I word those two scenes? Would I try to intertwine them or split them up? Had I read a book like that?

Afterwards, I started to track down political thrillers. I remember reading a book by Jefferey Archer about Saddam Hussein stealing the Declaration of Independence. Something by Christopher Hyde. Trying to get through PATRIOT GAMES by Clancy.

None of them brought the same feel that the movie did. At least not to my freshman mind.

So... now I'm trying to write a book with that feel.

What about you? What movies have inspired you?

Stephen King

by
John McFetridge

This week I'm on a family vacation and tonight we're stopping in Maine so that makes me think of Stephen King -- and Patrick Shawn Bagley, but mostly Stephen King.

I haven't read every Stephen King novel but I've read a lot of them and I really like them. When we talk about writing we always say it's really about the characters and Stephen King gets into the hearts and souls of more characters than any other writer. And these are characters I can relate to, characters we might call, "everday." When the world ends in a Stephen King novel the survivors are never black belt, super secret assasins who've been in deep cover, they're a nerdy kid with pimples and a truck driver and a waitress.

As we drove through Maine today my wife and I were telling our two sons the story of The Stand but then I told them the story of when I first read The Stand.

It was the late 70's and I was working as a night shift security guard in an office building in Calgary (I was very young, like a six year old secuirty guard, really, someone should have called a social worker). I clocked in at 11pm and was the only person in the building until 7am. So one night I arrived and sat at my desk in the quiet lobby and started reading The Stand. On the first page the car crashes at the garage and the virus is let loose. By three o'clock in the morning when I was supposed to do my rounds of the empty building most of the people in the world had died and the survivors were moving west.

I put the book down and walked through the lobby, my footsteps echoing like they nevr had before and I pressed the button for the elevator. Of course the damned thing was already on the main floor so the bell rang right away and I just about dropped a load. The doors opened and I got on the elevator. I rode up to the top floor. I was supposed to get off the elevator and check every floor but the top couple floors of the building were still being finished and looked like the constuction site they were. Or, they looked as if they'd been trashed.

And from the elevator I could see all the way out the windows and at that time Calgary was going through one of its boom periods and was very much a work in progress. There were a dozen half-built highrises and a dozen more like the one I was working in that were half-filled. So the whole city looked half-built.

Or half destroyed.

I decided the the whole building was fine and rode the elevator straight down to the lobby.

In fact, for the next month I decided the building was fine and never left the lobby.

Right up until the day I left at 7am and got called by my boss a couple hours later wanting to know why I didn't know a homeless guy was sleeping on the couch in the lobby of a law firm. Apparently he'd been in the bathroom when the building closed and he made himself at home.

It was time I looked for another job anyway.

That effect Stephen King has on readers is why he's a great writer.

So, anyone else care to share a story about reading Stephen King?