Another Year, Another Book, a Whole New World of Self-Promotion

Donis here,  kicking off my new year. My tenth Alafair Tucker Mystery, Forty Dead Men, will hit the streets on February 6, 2018. You can pre-order here. I am particularly proud of this book, which deals with the psychological effects of warfare on a veteran of the First World War. They called it shell shock back then. Now we call it PTSD. The early reviews have been stellar. Publishers’ Weekly starred review of Forty Dead Men says “Casey expertly nails the extended Tucker family—some 20 people—and combines these convincing characters, a superb sense of time and place, and a solid plot in this marvelously atmospheric historical.”

The official launch party for Forty Dead Men will be at Poisoned Pen Bookstore in Scottsdale, Arizona, on February 24 at 2:00 p.m., when Poisoned Pen Press hosts Yours Truly, Dennis Palumbo (signing Head Wounds, A Daniel Rinaldi Mystery) and Priscilla Royal (signing Wild Justice, A Medieval Mystery) for a three author signing party! We will also be remembering another wonderful Poisoned Pen author, Fred Ramsay, who passed away late last year.

Trying to publicize a new book is a new adventure for me every time. Forty Dead Men is my tenth book in almost thirteen years, and just in that short time things have changed so much that I have to re-learn how to do it with each release.

Do you remember, Dear Reader, when authors had hard-copy press kits that they used to give to prospective agents and editors and to bookstore managers? That is a photo of mine, above. This is a left-over from the press kit batch I used to publicize of my third book, The Drop Edge of Yonder, a mere 10 years ago. NOBODY that I am aware of uses a physical booklet like this anymore. No, now it's either promote yourself on line or in person, and in person is becoming harder and harder to arrange. I have a website and a blog. I don't know how much either helps, but it can't hurt, right? This time I’m doing something most authors these days do automatically, and that is set up an author page on Facebook. It’s hard to believe, but Facebook was less than a year old when my first book was published in 2005, and nobody had an author page. I was finally convinced to create one because I can use it to push promotions and announcements. We shall see how this turns out. In the meantime, Dear Reader, if you would be so kind as to visit my Facebook author page, here, and give it a “Like”, I would be most appreciative.

Also, please remember that especially if you like a book, it is very helpful to the author if you write a nice review for it in Goodreads or on Amazon.

This writing game is tough. And when it comes to publicity, you just have to put your head down and go. What works for one may not work for you, so you try everything you can manage and do the best you can. The really important thing, though, is to do the best you can without making yourself miserable. Life is too short.

Forks and roundabouts; navigating multiple series

At the beginning of this new year, fresh and cold and full of possibilities, I find myself standing at a fork in the road. What choice to make? Which way to go? I have just submitted the third manuscript in my new Amanda Doucette series to my publisher, and although I have a few months of edits and such ahead, I have completed my three-book contract for this series. I do have one contractual obligation left to fulfill – the fourth book in my Rapid Reads Cedric O'Toole series, the deadline for which is in June – but beyond that, I have no major writing commitments on the horizon.

I began my published writing career in 1994 with a short story in a local anthology, and published quite a few short stories before publishing my first mystery novel, Do or Die, in 2000. In the subsequent fourteen years, I published ten novels in the Inspector Green series, which works out to more than a book every one and a half years. During that time I also wrote short stories and three Rapid Reads novellas. It was a busy pace.

During its ten-book run, the Inspector Green series garnered four Arthur Ellis Best Novel nominations, including two wins, and developed a loyal fan base. As with all long-running series, readers enjoyed spending time with the exasperating, hard-driving detective and his collection of regulars both on the police force and in his family. They followed his ups and downs and watched him grow as a character and a man, as did I.

Ten books seemed like a nice round number for me to give the series a rest and spread my wings with new characters, new settings, and new story styles. I'd spent fifteen years of my life with Inspector Green and as a writer, I didn't want the series or my writing to grow stale. So I proposed a new series to my publisher and was given a three-book contract to develop the Amanda Doucette series. New character – a woman for the first time – new cast of supporting characters, a different setting for each book, and a story style with far less inherent structure (police procedurals, no matter how you vary them, are essentially murder investigations).

At first I found it surprisingly difficult to switch gears. I couldn't hear Amanda's voice or get a handle on her reactions. After you've lived with a cast of characters for fifteen years, their voices come easily and you slip into their skins almost the moment you pick up your pen. Not so with Amanda. It's taken me three books to get to know her and to feel her from the inside as I write her scenes. I also found the looser story structure, with no clear forward momentum and a need to motivate Amanda's every move (why on earth would she do that instead of just calling 911?), much more of a challenge than I had expected. I am not a fan of thrillers, but found myself creating stories with thriller-like elements just to motivate Amanda's continued involvement. I still love traditional "unpeeling the onion" whodunits, but why on earth would Amanda unpeel the onion in the first place?

The Amanda Doucette series has received positive reaction from readers and reviewers, and I believe it has picked up some readers that Green did not. But some readers who love Inspector Green were upset by the change and wanted him back. Even now, although most are enjoying Amanda'a antics, they still hope I write another Green book. It's a dilemma that all writers of multiple series face. Each series has its fans, and often readers prefer one over the other. And now that I've written all three books in the Doucette contract, a new book in either series would probably be at least two years out. Six years after the last Inspector Green novel or two year after the last Doucette, Prisoners of Hope.

I love both my series, and would happily write either. Ideally I would like to alternate series, but there are practical questions to be asked. Can a series survive six years' absence? Does the Amanda Doucette series have a firm enough fan base that readers who love it will wait at least three years for the next installment? Do I know her well enough to put her on the shelf for a year or two and have her still come when called?

My instinct says that, after three books, Amanda may not be well enough established in readers' hearts and thoughts, especially if there is a three-year gap before the next. Four books may be enough, but that leaves an even longer gap before the next Green. I can't write more than one book a year and still retain my sanity. In fact, one book a year feels like a straitjacket sometimes, as other fun things like travel and grandchildren beckon.

So these are my thoughts as I stand on the threshold of the new year, facing a fork in the road. I'd be interested to hear what other writers have experienced, and what readers like. All this dithering may be moot, of course, if for some reason the publisher wants neither series, but that's a whole other fork in the road! Perhaps more like a roundabout.

Some random thoughts from the depths of winter

by Rick Blechta

It can get to be a pretty daunting task to sit down and write a blog post every week. I’ve been doing it here since 2006! Well, most weeks… Sometimes you’re fired up by something you’ve read or seen or responding to a fellow blogger’s post. Other times you sit down and think, “What the heck am I going to write about this week?”

Today is one of the latter.

So rather than cruise the internet for ideas or stare at an unforgivingly blank computer screen (or play a couple of hands of computer solitaire), I’m going to just bounce some of my pet rants around:

Why do we have the word “sometimes” (see first paragraph), a logical amalgam of two words, and not a word like “othertimes”? Seems to me it would be very handy and also logical. Anyone (See? There’s another one!) with me on using othertimes as much as possible to see if it catches on and the Oxford Dictionary notices and makes it an Official Word?

Why is it in this time of instant electronic communication that it takes several working days to transfer money from one bank to another? Does someone have to check over each transfer to make sure it’s legitimate and correct? Based on my experience, nobody looks over anything in banks these days.

Why do people caught in traffic on highways sit right on the bumper of the car in front of them instead of leaving adequate room to stop? Do they think those hundred or so feet are going to get them to where they’re going so much faster? Think of it this way: How long does it take to travel 100 feet at, say, 50 MPH? That’s how much faster you’re going to get to your destination. So you save about one second, but risk an accident. Is that a smart risk to take?

And finally my current forehead slapper: Why didn’t I go with my initial idea and title one of my novels (I’ll let you guess which one) Fire and Fury? A professor here in Canada did, and his book — all about the Allied bombing of German cities in WWII — has surprisingly wound up on the bestsellers list on Amazon ten years after its publication! (Damn! Missed another great opportunity — even though my novel eventually got what I thought was an excellent title.)


Now, loyal readers of Type M, I ask you to please add your random thought(s) and let’s expand this discussion.

Who knows? It might do some good. And at the very least, you’ll feel better for sharing your pet rant.

The Back Story

Recently in The Author there was an article by David Williams about the world's shortest stories. He quoted the tale that Ernest Hemingway was asked to produce one, on the promise of having his bar bill paid, and he came up with, 'For sale: baby shoes, never worn.'

Whether he wrote it or not, what a wealth of human tragedy lies in those few words! Margaret Atwood's attempt was a rather more cynical, 'Longed for him. Got him. Shit.'

Williams also quoted one of his own from his book, HE and SHE: 1000 stories in 1000 tweets, that I particularly liked: 'A Lasting Hand: Their marriage started with two hearts and a diamond. It ended with a club and a spade.' A crime novel in miniature.

They're all clever. They whet the curiosity and the answer to the questions the reader wants to ask could be a short story, or even a whole novel.

Wanting to know the back story is a fundamental human instinct. When we first meet someone we all ask what I call 'establishing' questions. Where do you live? What do you do? What family do you have? What books do you read? What films do you like? It's the way a meeting proceeds to a friendship.

When we introduce a main character to our readers, they need to know a bit about the back story if they're going to feel involved. The trouble is that we can't set down a list of attributes and tastes and a lot of personal history without slowing up the story and boring everyone rigid as well.

To be convincing, I need to know the answer to all these questions, even though I'll never actually write everything down. It's a gradual process, like getting to know a real person, but it's what makes them take on a life of their own. I sometimes found myself saying about DI Marjory Fleming, 'I didn't know she'd done that!' I hope that's what percolates through to the reader.

In the past months I've spent a lot of time learning the back story of a new detective, DI Kelso Strang. What drew me to write about him wasn't exactly a shortest-story-style tweet, but it was a very brief image that came into my head: a young man, his adored wife and their unborn baby fatally injured in a car accident, signing the paper to switch off her life-support.

Somehow the idea took possession of my mind and the new book, Human Face, comes out this month. I'll be writing about it in my next post.

It's Here!!!

I am truly a January Junkie. I love the beginning of a New Year. One would think at my age that the thrill would be gone. But no. I imagine myself capable of achieving all kinds of things. It's the hope that springs eternal.

Mainly my goals are financial (to keep better track of stuff) and to spend a lot more time writing.

I have spent most of my life in very small towns. One of the liabilities/assets of small communities is the consciousness that projects for the good of the whole depends on a lot of participation. So I end up doing my part in an awfully lot of groups.

 I need to pare down and concentrate on my writing.

As to the merits of resolutions--they do me a lot of good. Last year, one of my goals was to get more exercise and I did. There were a number of interruptions, but on the whole I can say that was a resolution kept. I go regularly now to Miramont and am stronger and have increased energy.

My greatest blessing this past year has been friends and family. The sister relationships among my three daughters have always been close. So are the cousin ties with their children. And I'm included in so many family festivities. It's wonderful.

Type M is still going great guns after twelve years.

Here's to a terrific 2018 to one and all.     

New Year Resolutions and Musings

It’s that time again. You know what I’m talking about –– that time each winter where you (and I) promise to lose weight, exercise more, read a book a week, write six days a week, start that new project . . .

You get the idea. Christmas and New Year’s Eve have come and gone. We both spent too much money and ate badly. Now it’s time to be better human beings. For at least three weeks. Or maybe that’s just me being cynical. Maybe it’s just me who’s the bad human being. I apologize for dragging you down with me.

Regardless, I’m going to use my New Year Resolutions to set some straightforward and hopefully reachable goals. Here they are:

1. Writing and exercising go hand-in-hand for me. When I’m exercising, my writing is better, so I’ll shoot for getting to the gym four days a week in the cold weather. 
2. Finish the second draft of the work-in-progress before my birthday (Feb. 24) 
3. Write and sell a short story this year

That’s the list. Pretty simple. I’ll let you know how it goes.

In the for-what-it’s-worth category, here are some titles I’m either reading or just finished:

Between The World and Me by Ta-Nahisi Coates, Winter’s Bone, by Daniel Woodrell, and Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexi. Loved them all.

And as we freeze on the East Coast, here are some pictures from Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where we spent part of the holiday season.

Coptic, anyone?

Happy New Year, everyone!

I was planning on doing a post on my favorite of books from 2017, but right now I am begrumpled and blutterbunged. (See my previous post on these and other fun words.) For some unknown reason, I lost an entire folder from my desktop. Luckily, not my current WIP, but some important docs for something else I do. I can recreate most of it, but it’s still leaving me a bit out of sorts.

So right now, you’re getting a completely different topic – Coptic. I enjoyed Rick’s post yesterday on Latin pronunciation so I thought I’d share a video I found on YouTube where someone reads the Lord’s prayer in two dialects of Coptic: Sahidic and Bohairic.

As long time readers of Type M know, I’ve been studying Ancient Egyptian and Sahidic Coptic for many years now. Coptic is the last trace of Ancient Egyptian. It emerged around the 2nd century AD and was spoken in Egypt until Arabic came along. Now it exists as a liturgical language only. The Bohairic dialect is what is used in the Coptic Christian church today.

The script might look a bit familiar to you all. It’s basically the Greek alphabet plus several new characters for sounds that didn’t exist in Greek.

Happy New Year's Resolution!

Have you made a New Year's resolution – apparently, we humans have been making them for over 4000 years? I usually make the same one: to try to be more gracious. This year I have a new one. My resolution is to learn Latin, or at least relearn it. Latin was my favourite subject at school.  I adored translating Ovid and Virgil and Cicero. I didn't carry on studying Latin after I left school because my mother said it was a frivolous subject.  My new classes start on the 5th of this month. Bring on the frivolity!

Happy 2018!

PS: It goes without saying I will continue to try to be more gracious 😉

Brooklyn Wars

 
Weekend guest Triss Stein is a small–town girl from New York farm country who has spent most of her adult life in Brooklyn. She writes mysteries about different Brooklyn neighborhoods and their unique histories, in her ever-fascinating, ever-changing, ever-challenging adopted home. In the new book, Brooklyn Wars, murder gets in the way as heroine Erica Donato researches the proud history and slow death of the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

My current book, Brooklyn Wars, was released in August so now I am deep into writing the next book in the series. There are writers who plan out an entire book before writing begins. I am not one of them. Every new book has a few surprises for me.

My amateur sleuth is a historian, a specialist in Brooklyn history, and her writing about Brooklyn’s varied neighborhoods gives her a reason to ask questions. She regularly stumbles across people who don’t want some questions answered. Or even asked.

So every book starts with a real place, a neighborhood that has interesting potential. I begin in the Brooklyn history room of the public library. I sit down with a stack of clipping files and a stack of books. Brooklyn Wars is set against the background of the renowned Brooklyn Navy Yard. It was already more than a century old when World Ward ii began, but that became its finest hour. I fully intended to build a book around it. It was the largest shipyard in the world in those years, employing more than 70, 000 people, many of them women doing what had been “men’s” jobs.

New York in wartime? Spies on the waterfront? The mob on the waterfront? Women’s changing expectations? The never-solved burning of the French ship, Normandie? There was a story possibility in every article.

But wait. I soon realized that the generation that lived those stories is mostly gone now. A contemporary mystery with roots in that past would be hard to pull off.

But wait. Those files told a few more stories, including the devastating closing of the yard in 1966, the long downhill slide of the property and its surprising current rebirth. And there was an entire dissertation in the library files, with a new plot idea on every page. In the end, I did manage to layer a bit of the wartime story in there too.
The work in progress is about Brooklyn Heights, one of the oldest parts of Brooklyn, the first suburb, the home of Brooklyn high society, and the scene of an important Revolutionary War battle. (Washingon lost). It was also the first Historic District in New York. I expected to learn a lot about that civic battle, with city planners/developers on one side and preservationists on the other.

What I did not expect to find was a third player, a somewhat mysterious religious organization which owns a large stake in the neighborhood. Hmmm. What can I do with that?

Stay tuned.

My 2018 Wish for You

Wishing you the best for 2018, from my house to yours 

Donis here. Boy, 2017 was something, wasn’t it? I’m not saying what. I don’t use that kind of language (much). But it is almost over now, and we can at least look forward to a new start. Perhaps some comfort, maybe some healing. I hope.

Since my birthday falls between Christmas and New Year, the end of the year is the literal end of another year of life for me. At the beginning of this year I find myself toggling between anticipation and a certain amount of dread. My husband will be having another operation on January 9. This will be his ninth operation in nine years. It should be a relatively minor operation, as these things go, but Don has had so many health problems over the last decade that minor procedures tend to be a little more complicated for him. Still, the surgeon says things should go well, so I keep a good attitude and try not to borrow trouble beforehand. My tenth mystery novel, Forty Dead Men, will launch in February and thus far, the early reviews have been very good. That is something to feel good about. If all goes as planned there are some upcoming trips to which I look forward, so all in all I hold out hope for a pleasant 2018.

I used to make New Year’s resolutions. I vowed to strive for improvement, to become a better person in the upcoming year, to write more. But I gave it up some years ago. Not because I suddenly am without flaw, but because after living through a substantial chunk of my life, it dawned on me that I can resolve to do all kinds of things, but none of my resolutions are going to make any difference in the end. Now, I'm not suggesting that we never make plans or set goals, I'm only saying that we shouldn't be disappointed if things don't go the way we want them to. Because as one Allen Saunders said back in the 1950s, "Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans."

You just don't know. Have you ever been walking along on a winter's day and slipped on the ice? You find yourself on you back gazing up at the sky thinking, "What just happened?" Thirteen years ago, I called my mother in Tulsa to wish her a happy New Year and had a nice long conversation that ended with "I love you and will talk to you tomorrow." The next morning my sister-in-law called to tell me between sobs that she had gone to my mother's house and found that she'd passed away in her sleep. The longer you live the more of those moments you get to have.

The future is out of my hands. I'll go ahead and make my plans, but the only thing I can actually control is this very moment. Yet that is something quite powerful. Hemingway knew it, too. "Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be," he said. "But what will happen in all the other days that ever come can depend on what you do today."

So here is my Ultimate New Year's Resolution, the only resolution I have made for the last several years and the only one I expect I'll ever make again:

I will try to live this moment well.

And to all you Dear Readers, I wish the same.

Looking back, peering ahead

by Rick Blechta

First, I hope everyone is enjoying a terrific holiday season, regardless of what you might be celebrating. Heck! With the way the world is right now, we should certainly all celebrate still being here!

A funny thing has been happening here at Type M. Last month we had a huge spike in the number of people who visited our page, 74,964 of them to be precise. That's a heck of a lot of people, more than we see in four or five normal months.

From the little bit I can discover, the vast majority of these new viewers came from either Brazil or France. That's a bit of a head-scratcher too since we only occasionally use the odd French phrase and I don’t think there’s been a single word in Portuguese on our site. I know! All those new people who visited have heard how fine our writing in English is and so they’re coming here to hone their language skills!

Or not.

After some slow days earlier this month, the daily number of visitors is spiking again, this time pretty well confined to France. I wish I could figure out what’s going on.

All of this leads me to the fact that sometime in the first half of 2018, Type M for Murder will celebrate its one millionth visitor, and that’s pretty darn special. First of all, most blogs don’t last as long as we have (nearly 12 years and counting), and second, having been here since the beginning (as has Vicki D), we’ve had some tremendous bloggers appearing on this Little Mystery Blog That Could.

So looking back, we’ve got a huge (or should I say yuge?) archive of crime writing wit and wisdom, over 3000 posts’ worth. You should look it over sometime. And looking ahead at 2018, we’re going to have something really worth celebrating. I’ve checked to see if we could identify guest 1,000,000 and single them out for some sort of prize pack or something. Alas, there’s no way to do that, but it will be a wonderful day when that counter ticks over, won’t it?

Lastly, I’d like to wish each and every one of you the very best for the coming year. I hope it will be your best ever.

Happy New Year!

Happy Christmas

Today I hope that all of you are far too busy enjoying the blessing of being with people you love to be sitting in front of a screen reading this.

Happy Christmas and may 2018 bring peace, health, happiness and success to you all.

My Christmas Prezzie-Writing Advice Repackaged and Regifted

For this, my last post this year on Type M, I wanted to give you all a present. In going through my archives, I discovered this forgotten little essay that I first posted on Jim Born's blog way back a few years. So I decided to offer it to yuz guys. Enjoy. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. See you in 2018!

Jim has been after me for some time to contribute an article with writing advice to his blog. It’s taken me this long to submit something for a couple of reasons.

First, I have been busy. I mean like work busy, not like watching Narcos on Netflix busy. Second, I couldn’t think of anything to add about writing that hasn’t been written a bazillion times already. If you’re a newbie writer, then you tend to soak up all the writer advice you can and hope it’ll stick. Maybe, you’ll get an A-Ha! moment.

But mostly I get the impression that writers are always on the prowl--like raccoons scrounging through a Dumpster--in search of that one morsel of advice that will carry you over that elusive threshold from unpublished to published, from unwashed to still dirty, but at least with credentials! As for any advice that might help, other than keep writing and stay positive and all that, here are my two centavos:

POV doesn’t matter. 

I can hear a collective sucking of breath on that one. Again, Point-of-View doesn’t matter. I say that because I can’t think of a novel where violating the Commandment Thou Shall Not Head-Hop made one difference (measured in WTF’s) in terms of sales or acclaim. And I can’t think of one reader who ever said, “The story was great. The characters were amazing. The plot, compelling. But I put the book down because of the shifts in Point-of-View.”

What confuses the new writer is to get back a sample chapter and have it redlined up by a teacher or a critique partner with notes admonishing you of POV shifts within a scene. But wait, you protest, here’s my beloved international bestseller, rock-star-rich author and he, she, hops POV like a frog on a hot George Foreman and that hasn’t hurt their career. “But,” the teacher/critique partner replies, “the different are rules because those writers are published.”

Advice like that is enough to make you go from head-hopping to head-lopping.

However, before you go all nutzo with head-hopping, I’ll admit that at first, you have to understand POV. A tight POV helps you develop what’s going on in the character’s head, whether you write First Person or Third Person. Newbie writers who skim from head-to-head miss opportunities for dramatic immersion. But at one point, you’ll figure it out. So why not vary POV?

Old hands will tell you, okay, but if you shift POV, then you must either rely on a chapter break or a paragraph drop-down. You see, they argue, readers are morons with the attention span of bottle flies. You can’t depend on them to keep track of anything. Even though you might have introduced a huge roster of characters and a plot so intricate that readers need index cards and a highlighter to follow the story, if you hop one head, BOOM! you’ve lost them.

So why the writer witch-hunts on POV? Because a POV shift is easy to spot. It’s easy to criticize. It’s easy to say, POV shift! bad writer. 

In my critique group (all old hands at this writer game), anytime one of us introduces an abrupt POV shift, the others act as if the offender has written kiddie porn and killed puppies. Shame on you! Then when we discuss the latest book we’ve read, we’re all: “It was awesome. The prose, so colorful. The characters were magic.” What about POV shifts? “Like a crazy mo-fo, but it didn’t make a difference. I loved the story.”

So here’s my advice to you. Go ahead, remove the shackles. Indulge in head-hopping. Have fun. Merry Christmas.

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Today I've been thinking about Christmases from my childhood and some of my most bittersweet experiences.

One Christmas eve my family (my parents and my younger sister, Phyllis) had gone to Garnett to visit my Aunt Aura Lee and Uncle Nappy. They had one child--our beloved Cousin Rosemary. She was the youngest of us three.

Roads were miserable in those days and as luck would have it we got snowed in. What normally would have been a treat--spending all night with the Galloways--was a miserable experience for me. I didn't sleep well.

For of course Santa Claus would by-pass us. When he found we were not at home sleeping in our beds, a whole year of being good would go to waste. Phiz and I had redoubled our efforts when it came close to Christmas.

Finally Christmas morning came and when we awoke Santa had showered gifts on Cousin Rosemary. She was an only child and Phiz and I thought such largess was really uncalled for. She was not that good! Honestly, the things we could tell Santa. If we were inclined to snitch, which we were not.

The snow was over and we were able to drive home. My heart pounded the closer we came to our farm. We dashed into the house and crest-fallen realized that the worst had happened. Santa had indeed by-passed us.

Then my father found a note. We gathered around while he read it. Santa explained that he was worried about the safety of our presents since the house was cold and dark. He wished us a merry Christmas and urged us to check the woodshed because he certainly hadn't forgotten us. Daddy immediately led us out to the woodshed and much to our joy there were two identical precious dolls, each in their own high chairs.

Our joy was unbounded. Especially since our good behavior had not gone unnoticed. My faith in Santa and the goodness of the Universe was restored.

Until it wasn't.

Lone Elm was a very small community. Grades 1-3 were in the same room. As Christmas approached the next year there was a vicious rumor afloat that there was no Santa Claus. It was really just our parents. I think it was started by the truly offensive big kids in the third grade.

It finally made sense to me. I simply could not understand why Santa treated one miserably poor family so cruelly when they were good as gold. They got gifts like tooth paste and a pair of socks. The despicable daughters in another family who were not good were lavished with all kinds of treats. It was nearly intolerable when school resumed after Christmas to hear them tell of all they had found under their tree.

But seared on my memory was the shocked sobbing of one of the daughters in the poor family when she realized if Santa was truly her own parents there was no hope. They were already doing the best they good.

For me, understanding the tragedy of loss of hope, and my initiation into complexity was one of the most important lessons of childhood.

I think of that, the weeks when our church helps host homeless families. I was shocked when one of the fathers had three jobs, but housing was still beyond his reach.

Churches redouble their efforts during the Christmas season to let families know that someone cares. May Christmas always be a time of generosity when communities give food and special presents to struggling families.

And give the gift of hope to those who need it most!

Merry Christmas from Charlotte Hinger.

Christmas Lights and Second Drafts

Christmas is upon us –– the season of good cheer, good food and drink, and time spent with close friends and family. For me, it’s also a time to regroup: I’m between semesters and chipping away on the second draft of a novel.

No two writers work the same way, and finding one’s process is like discovering how to tie a tie: You can hear about how to do it, even see it done, but until you actually finish a novel, you might as well stand before the mirror and try to do it backwards. Some writers outline. (Jeffery Deaver gave a keynote address I heard saying he spends eight months writing the outline, three writing the book.) Others say writing is like driving at night –– you can see only as far as your headlights, writing and plotting as you go. Other writers fall somewhere in between.

Part of developing a writing process is knowing your strengths and weaknesses. I do well to focus on character and dialogue, aspects that have always come easily. I’m never going to plot like Dan Brown. It’s simply not in my DNA. Moreover, I believe all writers, to some degree, write what we read. I grew up on series novels –– Parker, MacDonald, Chandler, Grafton, Paretsky, Burke (both Jan and James Lee) –– and I have no real interest in writing one-and-dones, stand-alones. Character interests me. I want to learn more about their lives in the vein Michael Connelly describes in his essay “The Mystery of Mystery Writing”: “The mystery has evolved in recent decades to be as much an investigation of the investigator as an inquiry of the crime at hand. Investigators now look inward for the solutions and means of restoring order. In the content of their own character, they find the clues” (Walden Book Report, September, 1998). I like to have a large canvas when I’m creating the arc of a character, a canvas that might span several books. I enjoy following a character, see her grow and develop and take on new challenges, and I enjoy books whose ill deeds expose moral ambiguity. All of this means the human condition is front and center in my plots: people do things, then, for relatively simple reasons.

So as I near the halfway point in draft No. 2, I’m taking inventory. The characters have come to life and are, fingers crossed, consistent and believable. Ditto the setting. The plot, though, has to be reeled in, simplified. I’m always looking for a way to find a twist at the end while honoring Poe’s and Chandler’s mandates that a mystery not only play fair with readers but also conclude with all necessary clues being front and center, unlike real-world crimes where aspects of the case always go unexplained. But much like the box marked “Christmas Lights” in my garage, this storyline needs someone to untangle it, and like that box in the garage, no amount of money will get my kids to do it for me. That means cutting and adding –– eliminating some red herrings, punching up other characters’ roles.

In the end, all I really want for Christmas is to not face draft No. 3.

Happy holidays!

Feminism, Youthquake and Complicit

As Rick noted in his post yesterday, this is the time of year when we look back at what’s happened over the past year. It also means dictionaries select a word of the year.

Merriam-Webster selected “feminism” as its 2017 Word of the Year. They give this designation to the word that’s been “looked up on Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary disproportionately more than in previous years.”

Merriam-Webster’s definition: “the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes” and “organized activity in support of women’s rights and interests.”

Spikes in look-ups occurred during the Women’s March on Washington the day after the U.S. presidential inauguration, then when the movie Wonder Woman and the Hulu series The Handmaid’s Tale were released.

Across the pond, Oxford Dictionaries chose “youthquake” as their word of the year. It’s defined as “a significant cultural, political, or social change arising from the actions or influence of young people.” They chose it because there’s been a fivefold increase in usage in 2017 compared to 2016. The UK’s general election in June apparently caused a big spike in its usage.

I haven’t heard this in the U.S. I gather it’s quite popular in the UK. Probably only a matter of time before it makes its way here. Even though I’m not familiar with it, youthquake has been around since 1965 when the editor-in-chief of Vogue declared it “the year of the youthquake.”

You can read more here. In the article, there’s also a link to a behind-the-scene post on how the word was selected. "Milkshake duck” was also considered. Really, “milkshake duck”. I definitely haven’t heard that one.

Dictionary.com got in on the act and chose “complicit” as its word of the year. The dictionary.com definition: “choosing to be involved in an illegal or questionable act, especially with others; having partnership or involvement in wrongdoing."

A spike in searches for the word occurred on March 12 after Saturday Night Live featured an “ad” with Scarlett Johansson as Ivanka Trump selling a perfume called Complicit: “the fragrance for the woman who could stop all this but won’t.” Another spike on dictionary.com occurred on April 5 after an interview with the real Ivanka aired where she talked about the word.

So there you have it, the words of the year for 2017. What do you think of these words? What word would you use to describe 2017?

Maybe now, more than ever, the world needs crime fiction

by Rick Blechta

At this festive time of the year, we tend to look back at what’s happened since the previous end-of-year celebrations. It’s unavoidable, really, since everyone is feeling the wear and tear of getting through another 365 days. We need to make sense of where we’ve been and where we hope to go in the next year.

2017 was not a good year for the world. I’m sure I don’t need to enumerate all the bad things that happened (although certainly bad things happen every year), but I do want to single out one “trending” thing (to use a trendy term): criminal actions are becoming more and more “normalized” or even dismissed as being inconsequential.

Now it’s pretty obvious that the folks trying to accomplish this sea change in our perceptions are the guilty parties, so this movement is certainly self-serving to them, but it really is a frightening thing. Corporations do it. Government organizations do it (I’m thinking law enforcement here). And even politicians do it.

I don’t know about you, but watching happen this leaves me despairing. How can people be hoodwinked so easily? Why aren’t we standing up and waving our fists, marching in the streets, demanding that it stop? Wrong is slowly becoming right. Our world is being turned on its head.

And this is where crime fiction comes in. In the imaginary worlds of crime novels wrongs are righted, the guilty are discovered and brought to justice, and evil is vanquished — most of the time. I’ve often finished novels that I really wasn’t enjoying simply because I wanted to see the bad guy get it in the end. One of the hardest things to pull off in writing crime fiction is those plots where the bad guy gets away with his/her dastardly deed. I’ve read some darn good novels that have this sort of ending, and no matter how much I’ve enjoyed it, I somehow feel cheated in the end.

So as truth crumbles around us, I think people need more than ever the comfort of a world where this sort of thing faces a challenge and is ultimately overcome. We need a place where truth prevails!

We’re certainly not getting it currently in the real world.

Is the digital age killing the novel?

The other day I woke up to the very un-festive headlines of “Books in Crisis!” and “Collapsing Fiction Sales!” Apparently, more and more readers prefer to pick up their smart phone than a book, choosing to stream films or hang out on social media – or both – than read a story. If this sounds a little familiar, it may be because I touched on this subject in the first piece I wrote for Type M for Murder (Are we losing the plot?). While it would be foolish to deny there isn't a problem, the arrival of the digital age doesn't have to be the death knell of the novel. In China, for example, millions of authors write their novels by installments, Charles Dickens like, publishing a new chapter every day, almost before the ink is dry on the previous one. And just as we might wait to download the next episode of True Detective or House of Cards, over 300 million young readers anxiously wait to download the hot-off-the press chapters onto their smart phones. 

And that's not all. Not unlike the fan sites of Goodreads and Smashwords, readers of China's “online literature” have their own web forums based around their favourite novels. Here they discuss at length all aspects of the stories they love and often chat with invited authors. In fact, readers can even tell authors what they would like to see happen in the stories and in many instances an author will shape the plot of his or her novel to include the changes. If a story doesn't get enough followers, even after making changes, the writer simply ditches the story and starts a new one. 

Why is “online literature” so big in China? It's believed that would-be writers, frustrated at China's strict censorship, turned to the internet to tell their stories. Writing online avoided State scrutiny and readers, bored with a diet of books full of state propaganda and self improvement, quickly discovered the online story gems. Regardless of how “online literature” came to be, however, it is very much a thing in China. The less good side of the phenomenon is that writers are not able to charge very much for their hastily scribbled chapters, some even write for free. But for those who succeed, it can be very profitable. Ambitious editors from China's new private publishing industry are always searching through the online installments to find the next big thing with the hope of selling lucrative spinoffs, such as movies and TV shows and video games. (Maybe not so different from here, after all?) 

Interestingly, online readers are not confined to China. There are four million overseas readers from more than 100 countries logging on daily to read the next chapter of novels such as the "Empress in the Palace," or "Scarlet Heart” – and North Americans make up about one third of that number. That's some readership.

What do you think about online literature, if anything? It's certainly a more sociable way to read – if sociable is what you want, although I prefer a more solitary reading experience. I also prefer a solitary writing experience. I can't imagine writing the present draft of my latest novel to demand, adapting it to suit the feedback of strangers. As for the idea of publishing daily installments online, that makes me feel weak at the knees. I am a slow, leisurely writer. Could this make me a dinosaur? Hm?

Weekend Guest J.A. Hennrikus

I'm delighted to welcome my friend J.A. Hennrikus to Type M. 

Julie writes the Theater Cop series for Midnight Ink. A Christmas Peril came out in September. As Julianne Holmes she writes the Clock Shop series. Julie can be found as www.JHAuthors.com on Twitter as @JHAuthors, and on Instagram as @jahenn. Julie also blogs with the Wicked Cozy Authors <wickedcozyauthors.com> and Killer Characters<killercharacters.com>.

In her post, Julie shares with us the inspiration for her holiday novel. 

The Spark

“How do you get your ideas?” is a favorite question at reader events. For my new Theater Cop series, with A Christmas Peril as the debut, the answer is complicatedly simple. 

The premise of the series, which is a soft-boiled traditional, is that Edwina “Sully” Sullivan was a cop for a long time, happily married to a lawyer, living in Boston. Five years ago, Sully was forced to retire from her job, found out her husband was having an affair, and had to move home to take care of her dying father. Home is Trevorton, MA, a (fictional) town on the north shore of Massachusetts. Sully decided if she couldn’t do her job in law enforcement, she was going to walk away. And so, she became the general manager of a small theater company. At the beginning of A Christmas Peril, Sully is trying to keep their production of A Christmas Carol on track, while at the same time dusting off her investigative skills to help exonerate her friend Eric, who is accused of killing his father. 

So how did I come up with all of that? 

I had a friend who had to retire as a state cop. I asked her if she was going to become a PI, and she told me if she couldn’t wear the badge, she wasn’t going to do the job. I’ve never forgotten that. 

I work in theater, so talking about that world is easy for me. I also love it, and love the folks I am blessed to work with every day.  And choosing to focus on a production of A Christmas Carol? Well, I’d suggest you do a search on theater companies in your area around the holidays. Here in Boston there are at least a half dozen excellent productions going on right now. But more than that? I love the story of A Christmas Carol. I read it every year, have watched dozens of movie and TV versions, and gone to many theatrical productions. The story resonates with me, more and more as I grow older. 

This entire series was born from a conversation with a friend who was heartbroken at having to retire. One idea that provided the gravitational pull for an entire series. 

Roles and Soundtracks

I've find this week's discussion fascinating. As someone who is an introvert and inclined to be a worrier, I am more negative than positive. But because I need to interact with people and connect -- and because I've become convinced I do no one any good by acting negative -- I've learned to engage in mood-shifting. This goes to sociologist Erving Goffman's theory about the roles we play in everyday life. As I experiment with showering the world with positive vibes, I've been dressing for my performance. This week, on a day when the weather was cold and raw, instead of dressing in all black and gray (my winter comfort colors), I put on a blue top and added a big blue and white silk scarf under my jacket. Sure enough, several people I met during the day glanced at the abstract scarf with its moon face and smiled and commented.

What I find as fascinating as people who create beauty or act in pro-social ways while being vile human-beings, is how much time we as humans spend engaged in impression management. We may feel gloomy or negative, but when we become socially savvy, we learn how to stop when the horrible tale we are telling the strangers we're chatting with at the holiday party is leaving their faces blank or an uncomfortable silence has fallen. We may not be a natural at chatting with people in check-out lines, but -- if we're lucky enough to grow up in a small town or in the South -- we learn what a social lubricant a comment can be. I saw this in action on Tuesday afternoon when the students in my class were standing at their stations waiting for people to come in and see their exhibit. The student nearest where I was sitting turned to me and asked about my cat -- Harry, the rescue Maine Coon who I had mentioned in class one day. It was a quiet exchange, but we started talking cats. And the other students began to join in with their own stories of cats and dogs. Our laughter floated down the hall. Hearing the laughter, the people coming to see the exhibit walked in smiling.

This brings me to what I've been thinking about my protagonists. Both Lizzie Stuart, crime historian, and Hannah McCabe, police detective, are introverts. They are self-protective. But Lizzie has learned to laugh, and Hannah appreciates humor. She can make a joke. But I'm finding that in my 1939 book, both my protagonist (who starts out believing in democracy and all of the virtues) is sliding toward the negative and my villain (antagonist) is wearing a mask of civility. But somewhere in that dark soul of his there is pain and sadness.

Last weekend, I made the mistake of beginning the day with the news. Luckily, as I was flipping through TV channels, I happened to re-discover all of the music channels (TV radio) at the top of the dial. I spent 5 minutes and then 10 and then half an hour dancing to reggae.

Now, I not naturally coordinated. I can only waltz well (because I imagine myself in a beautiful gown at a ball). But bopping around the room to reggae brought me right up.

As I was dancing, I also started to think about soundtracks. What kind of music would shake my characters in my 1939 book out of their gloom? What would make them smile? What would inspire them? And what is the soundtrack of the book itself? I don't know the answers to these questions yet, but it has shaken me out of my own down mood to think about it.

Does anyone else have a soundtrack for your book in progress? For your protagonist?