Excerpt: THE AMATEURS

by Marcus Sakey

Hey all,

I'm in Los Angeles researching my next novel, so today I thought I'd leave you with something a little different: an excerpt from my upcoming novel, THE AMATEURS, which hits August 6th. It's short, just a teaser prologue, but I thought you might enjoy.

Also, I did decide to give Twitter a try--if you're interested, follow me at http://twitter.com/MarcusSakey.

Cheers!

-Marcus

--

Later, Jenn Lacie would spend a lot of time trying to pinpoint the exact moment.

There was a time before, she was sure of that. When she was free and young and, on a good day, maybe even breezy. Looking back was like looking at the cover of a travel brochure for a tropical getaway, some island destination featuring a smiling girl in a cream sundress and a straw hat standing calf-deep in azure water. The kind of place she used to peddle but had never been.

And of course, there was the time after.

So it stood to reason that there had to be a moment when the one became the other. When blue skies bruised, the water turned cold and the undertow took her.

Had it been when they first met Johnny Love, that night in the bar?

Maybe. Though it felt more like when she’d opened the door at four a.m., bleary in a white T-shirt and faded cotton bottoms. She’d known it was Alex before she looked through the peephole. But the tiny glass lens hadn’t let her see his eyes, the mad energy in them. If she hadn’t opened the door, would everything be different?

Sometimes, feeling harder on herself, she decided, no, the moment came after the four of them did things that could never be taken back. Not just when they decided; not even when she felt the pistol, the oily heaviness of it making something below her belly squirm, a strange but not entirely uncomfortable feeling. Like any birth, maybe her new life had come through blood and pain. Only it hadn’t been an infant’s cry that marked the moment. It had been a crack so loud it made her ears hum, and a wet spattering cough, and the man shuddering and staring as his eyes zeroed out.

But late at night, the sheets a sweaty tangle, her mind turning relentless carnival loops, she wondered if all of that was nonsense. Maybe there hadn’t been a moment. Maybe that was just a lie she told herself to get through the day, the way some took Xanax and some drank scotch and some watched hour after numbing hour of sitcoms.

Maybe the problem hadn’t come from outside. Hadn’t been a single decision, a place where they could have gone left instead of right.

Maybe the road the four of them walked never had any forks to begin with.

Reality Check

I don’t usually talk about my current writing project. It’s a characteristic I developed back when I was writing my first novel over a three-year period while I toiled at a big downtown law firm. I basically kept my project to myself, not wanting to advertise an endeavor that could ultimately fail. I didn’t want the “Hey-what-happened-to-that-book-you-were-writing?” question. I have generally kept to this practice, developing and molding my latest novel in isolation.

But hey, this is a blog about writing, so here goes.

An interesting thing has happened to the current novel I am writing. Not the one coming out in September—The Hidden Man—but the one for 2010, with the working title Pretenders. I started writing that novel last summer and fall, with an eye toward finishing by year’s end and before the new General Assembly session in January, 2009. Then a funny thing happened: Rod Blagojevich was arrested on December 9, 2008, and I was thrust into the impeachment of our governor. The novel stopped in its tracks.

Ironically, the novel I was (am) writing is about political corruption. It was loosely based on what I saw happening around me. Pay-to-play corruption, that kind of thing. I thought it would be interesting for people to see how these things happen, from the viewpoint of someone who was watching it from a distance, but not much of a distance.

But selling a senate seat to the highest bidder? “I’ve got this thing and it’s f---in’ golden?” Extorting the Chicago Tribune to fire its editorial board? I mean, people, you can’t make this stuff up. Our idiot governor actually trumped me. He made the scandal I was writing about look like a jaywalking ticket.

That’s part of my problem, the effect of external circumstances. I'm the guy who convicted Blagojevich, so when I write a book about a crooked governor, people are going to be expecting to read about what I experienced. I have touched on political corruption in the past with my novels, but I have never gotten too close to fact. I write a fictional city, not Chicago and not Illinois, so I can distance my characters from real politicians, many of whom I know. I keep a distance, in short. And that’s going to be difficult here. If I write too close to truth, I violate my rule. If I don’t, I disappoint some readers.

But that’s only part of it. I mean, I’m a grown-up, I can work through that problem. The other problem is this write-what-you-know concept. I definitely know how to write about political corruption, but maybe I am too close to it. I am too demanding of myself when it comes to this topic. I want it to be too perfect. Tell me to write about a cop, and though I’ve never been one, I can research and ask questions and, frankly, avoid anything that I don’t know well enough and make it work. But political corruption—I have to do this just right, and I am struggling to hit it right on the head. I have hit the “delete” button and cussed like a truck driver more than ever before as a writer.

I am writing about this in part because it’s mildly cathartic, and I thank you for letting my lie on your couch. And don’t take this as self-pity. My assumption is that this roller coaster I am on will result in the best novel I have ever written. I’m not sure why I think that; something about the investment I have made in it, I suppose.

And as frustrating as this is for me, I also find this experience to be fascinating. It makes perfect sense to write about an area in which you have expertise; we authors do it all the time and I am no different. But how close is too close? How do you set boundaries? I have never confronted this before. It’s like I am at war with myself. I am competing with a real-life experience.

I wish I had a snappy conclusion to this blog. I don’t. I am fighting through it and probably boring my lovely wife to tears complaining about it. (When I say I don’t talk about existing writing projects, my wife is the exception; she has the good fortune of hearing me whine. I should nominate her for the Nobel Peace Prize.)

I have enjoyed reading the other authors on this blog, particularly when we talk about the craft. I have learned a lot, and I offer this as another experience of the wretched, the depraved, the lonely, the insane—the novelist. When I work through this, I promise (threaten?) to let you know. And if anyone has any thoughts for me, by all means …..

Tripping down Halsted St to study DNA

by Michael Dymmoch

On June 10th, the Illinois Academy of Criminology (IAC) held its Spring Institute at UIC. The program was on DNA, a subject dear to the hearts of many crime writers. Since the round-trip bus fare was less than half the parking fee, I let the CTA be my chauffeur.

I don’t do nothing well, so when I couldn’t see the # 65 bus coming down Grand Avenue, I started walking toward the Halsted Street bus stop. You always know when you do that, the bus will fly past you mid-block. Which is just what happened. But the walk gave me the chance to note a few interesting things along the way.

The view from the bridge over the Chicago River:
This could save your hero’s life if he/she fell/was pushed into the river. Or it could snag a corpse.





A pair of like-new shoes abandoned against the bridge railing:








← (shoes)

There’s a story there. Or at least a clue.

And who knows what might occur at the Funky Buddha Lounge?

As I expected, the #65 bus passed me midway between home and Halsted, but the #8 Halsted bus was waiting when I arrived at the stop.

Halsted is an interesting street. Farther North, it winds through Cabrini Green, Yuppie Lincoln Park and Guppie Lake View. From Grand south, it transects Greek Town, crosses I-290 and the Blue Line, and passes through the UIC campus on its way toward the South Side. You could do a series set just on Halsted, or at least Winesburg Ohio collection of shorts.

Spring Institute speakers Garry Bombard, Ph.D., Detective James Hennigan, retired CPD Superintendent Matt Rodriguez, ASA Mark Ertler, and Cecelia Doyle, ILSPCL.

The DNA seminar was hosted by former CPD Superintendent Matt Rodriguez, who told the audience that the FBI lab started in an old lounge in 1932 with a sink, a microscope and a machine for examining the threading in gun barrels. Today, the lab at Quantico VA employs more than 600 people and hosts the National DNA Index System (CODEX), the world’s largest repository of DNA samples. (Visitors are usually underwhelmed by the small room in which CODEX resides, with it’s banks of interconnected computers.) In 2002, the FBI processed 5,000 DNA samples per year. By 2010, they expect to process 90,000 per month.

Mark Ertler, the Assistant States Attorney who supervises Cook County’s DNA review, explained that DNA is involved in three areas of law enforcement. In investigations, it is especially useful in solving cold cases. In addition to exonerating persons wrongfully convicted of crimes, evidence collected before DNA analysis came into widespread use is now being tested and found to implicate offenders arrested for subsequent crimes.

DNA isn’t always the answer. During trials, DNA is useful if available, but “If you don’t have DNA in an assault case, you’d better be able to explain why.” The “CSI effect” is also a problem for prosecutors—jurors expect to hear DNA testimony. There is also a developing area of law connected with DNA databases. In Illinois, all convicted felons are required to submit DNA samples to CODIS, but if an individual’s DNA is in CODIS, will it prejudice the jury? Some prosecutors tell jurors the defendant’s DNA was found in a database without mentioning which database, allowing jurors to assume the reference is to CODIS. Defense attorneys are increasingly asking that DNA evidence be tested by their own labs or with a defense expert present. The former demand raises chain of custody issues, the latter shuts down the state lab for the time the independent expert observes. (For privacy reasons, no other testing can be done while outsiders are present.) Defendants’ rights are also a consideration when DNA testing comes up. A bill stalled in the Illinois legislature would require DNA testing of everyone arrested for a felony; some states have already enacted such laws. But since citizens are considered innocent until proven guilty, this raises constitutional and privacy concerns. In Illinois, the crime lab works for law enforcement agencies, but the question could be raised to whom does the evidence belong?

The latest hot uses of DNA in forensics are mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA), and Y-STR DNA, which is only contributed by the male chromosome and, consequently, is especially useful for solving rapes. In all DNA cases, the Frye test applies—a court must determine of the test is generally accepted in scientific communities. Y-STR testing has passed in Illinois.

Other issues that come up in DNA testimony are the use of abandoned DNA—DNA left somewhere by a suspect and not given to law enforcers voluntarily or by court order; Red herrings—DNA left at a scene earlier by someone not involved with the case; and opinion testimony by non-experts—testimony by managers of companies to which DNA testing was outsourced. These individuals may have supervised the testing but didn’t perform the tests themselves. Their testimony would seem to be unconstitutional, since defendants are guaranteed the right to cross-examine witnesses. Whoever testifies, outsourcing tests to a private lab is problematic because it may cost up to $2,000 per occurrence for the witness to testify.

Cecelia Doyle, Chief of the biochemistry Section or the Illinois State Police Crime Lab (ILSPCL), explained the difference between real life and TV with respect to DNA testing. In reality, DNA cannot “prove” a defendant guilty. DNA evidence can link a victim to a suspect or crime scene; a suspect to a victim; or two separate crime scenes to each other. It’s up to the prosecution to “prove” the defendant’s guilt.

Evidence comes to the lab as a “biology case” and is first examined to determine if it is likely to yield DNA. About 60% of items become DNA cases. Turnaround time for processing is affected by a number of factors: the number of samples; mixtures vs. straight profiles; the amount of sample provided. Rush/high priority cases (heater cases in CPD cop speak) can take two to three weeks for a small case (two samples + two standards). If the sample size is limited, the case may take two to three weeks. If numerous samples and standards are involved, the whole process will take longer. Every case is peer reviewed. Higher priority cases are supervisor reviewed. Very high priority cases are reviewed by special experts. All tests are done using clean techniques. Unlike on CSI, ILSPCL researchers wear gloves whenever they are in the lab. When processing evidence, they wear gloves, masks, and clean lab coats with sleeve covers. VISITORS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE LAB. ILSPCL has a ”scrape-down room” for examining clothes and bedding for body fluids.

Ms. Doyle reported that CODIS has state, local and National levels (ENDIS), which receive DNA data from 170 labs in 25 countries. The ILSPCL has its own case work data base. Other data bases to which law enforcement may refer are the convicted offender database (everyone convicted of a violent felony in IL); the missing persons database; the unidentified human remains database; the biological relatives of missing persons database; and (in some states) arrestees databases. CODIS hits are not part of the chain of evidence, so if someone in CODIS is implicated in a crime, a new sample must be collected from the individual with a chain of custody maintained. DNA casework is now automated; biological examinations cannot be. ILSPCL is working toward a 30 day turnaround for both.

The Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (MN BCA) does mtDNA testing (also used for paternity tests) where necessary, because they have the set-up for it. MtDNA testing is very labor intensive.

Crime lab quality assurance standards are set by the National Academy of Sciences. ILSPCL is audited annually for quality of data, integrity of testing results and interpretation, and qualifications of personnel. Before they are allowed to work on their own, employees must have a 4-year physical science degree; a clean life style (and pass drug and background tests); must pass a lie detector test; have one to three years of formal training; and a period of supervised casework analysis.

[Other IAC Spring Institute speakers were CPD cold case detective, James Hennigan, and Garry Bombard, Ph.D., Chief of forensics Studies at Loyola University about which more in a later blog.]

Walkie Talk and Tambourine

By Kevin Guilfoile

Several months after Cast of Shadows was published I was doing a signing and a woman approached with the (16-hour) unabridged audiobook version of the novel. She took an excited breath and grinned and I gave her a gracious smile in anticipation of the kind words she seemed to be assembling in her head.

She got to the table and pushed the box out for me to sign and said, "I can't wait to get to this book--I listen to everything Scott Brick reads."

In the following months I had many similar encounters with readers. Usually they would say something like, "How were you able to get Scott Brick to narrate your novel?" I had to tell them I had nothing to do with it, but I was certainly grateful the person who did sought out one of the legends of audiobooks to read my work. Scott reads for Harlan Coben, Nelson DeMille, Clive Cussler, Preston and Child, Joe Finder, Barry Eisler, Steve Berry, and David Baldacci. He did the audiobook for Michael Pollan's bestseller In Defense of Food and worked on the upcoming 40-hour version of Roberto Bolaño's 2666. He narrates the Dune series. Scott has recorded over 400 novels in just the last ten years, and won more than 40 Earphones Awards. I can't even estimate the number of readers who discovered my work only because they are a fan of Scott's.

This month, Scott is running an unusual and exciting contest over at his web site. To celebrate his tenth anniversary in the audiobook business, Scott is holding (for lack of a better term) Audiobook Idol.

Voice acting takes a special gift and audiobook narration is something like an Ironman competition--it requires a versatility and endurance not everyone has. I imagine it's a difficult field to break into. But for the rest of June, Scott is inviting aspiring narrators to send him a three-minute demo in the form of an MP3 file. The winner will receive personal instruction from Scott, followed by actual recording work from a number of major publishers. The judges will include representatives from some of the biggest publishers in the business, including Random House Audio, Audible.com, Harper Collins Audio, Books on Tape and more.

I produced hundreds of voiceovers in my advertising years and I can tell you that not everyone with a pleasing voice is cut out for this work. But if you think you might have the storytelling gift, I've never seen an opportunity quite like this.

Tell a good story well and it might change your life.

Follow Kevin on Twitter.

Born to Raise Hell

By Barbara D’Amato


For nearly twenty years researchers have described a link between antisocial behavior and low activity on the MAO-A gene. A defect in this gene produces an excessive breakdown of the neurotransmitter serotonin, a substance that makes humans calm. The defect increases anger and produces an urge to react with aggression to fear or threat. [MAO-A has been called the “warrior gene”].

A Florida State University study on the tendency to join gangs, released this week, goes further. In young men, low activity on the MAO-A allele was associated with a greater tendency to violence, to use weapons, and to join gangs.

The National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent Health, which began in 1994 and therefore has been able to follow subjects for many years, surveyed 2,500 young males between 7th and 12th grade. The findings: Compared with males with a high-active gene, males with a MAO-A allele with low activity were twice as likely to join a gang, and more than four times as likely to use a weapon, even compared with other gang members, if those other gang members has a high-active gene.

A British study found that a combination of low-active MAO-A and a history of being abused produced males who committed four times as many robberies, rapes, and assaults.

Males who had the high-active MAO-A gene seemed to survive childhood abuse, having no more violent history than the average male. As Joshua Buckholtz at Vanderbilt University’s Brain Institute puts it, the genes “do an important job in loading the gun. But it’s the environment that pulls the trigger.”

In a way, this is encouraging. A study at the University of Georgia, published this May, found that five years of enrollment in a prevention program reduced binge drinking, drug use, and other antisocial behaviors to levels average in the general population.

These studies, though, give us all another big question for the blame game. Sure, when a young man has engaged in violent behavior repeatedly, he needs to be put where he can’t hurt anybody else. But what about the question of punishment?

Do we punish when there is genetic evidence of diminished restraint coupled with childhood abuse the child certainly never asked for?

Officers Down, and Still Unsolved

By David Heinzmann

Just days after the recent murder of Chicago Police Officer Alejandro Valadez, detectives had tracked down two suspects and secured charges against them.

As Chicago cops mourned the loss of their promising 27-year-old colleague, an expectant father, they also breathed a small sigh of relief. This one appeared to be in the can for keeps. It hasn’t been so in the last two investigations of murdered police officers.

Two years ago, Jose Vazquez was shot dead in the snow-covered alley driveway behind his West Side townhouse. And detective Robert Soto and a woman friend were shot as they sat talking in his SUV outside her West Side home in the wee hours of a morning last August.

In both those killings, investigators were onto robbery suspects early, but the cases slipped away. In the Soto case, authorities actually charged a guy, only to have the case fall apart when grand jury witnesses flip-flopped and a key piece of security video from the neighborhood showed that the suspected getaway car was a different make from the suspect’s Buick.

The fact that both West Side murders remain unsolved has been a point of deep embarrassment for the Area 4 detectives charged with investigating the cases. (There have been a couple other police murders over the last year, but in both cases the killers were apprehended at the scene and the outcome of the investigation was obvious from the start.)

The big difference separating the Valadez case from the two that remain unsolved comes down to witnesses. When Vazquez was killed on a snowy February night there were no known witnesses. When Soto was murdered last August, a handful of people in the neighborhood said they saw the getaway car speeding off, and offered police a nickname, “J-Rock.” But their stories ultimately fell apart. Some said gang rivalries may have led to bogus indentifications.

However, when Valadez was shot in Englewood on the South Side, his partner witnessed the whole thing, and immediately called for help and gave an accurate description of the killers’ car. Within minutes, the car was abandoned, found by police—with the murder weapon in the trunk—and traced to a nearby address and owner. The evidence piled up and the gunman and driver were soon at Area 1 headquarters, giving videotaped confessions.

It was a very lucky break, because there was no real motive. The accused men, both Gangster Disciples, allegedly told police they didn’t even know Valadez was a cop. They claimed to believe they were shooting at rival Black Disciples, retaliation for earlier gunfire.

It was the lamest, most senseless brand of gang violence. But murders like this happen all the time in Chicago—street-gang nonsense, with no logical motive and no specific target. Add to that mix completely unreliable witnesses, who are either deeply mistrustful or openly hostile to the police, and you can understand why detectives solve only about half of the city’s murders in any given year.

As soon as I heard Valadez was killed, I contacted a source with whom I have had a long and fruitful relationship, asking for details. In a text message, the reply was apologetic: Sorry, the last two got screwed up; not going to do anything to mess this one up.

The source was talking about Vazquez and Soto. I understood and let it go. Then when charges were announced against the two Gangster Disciples from Englewood, I sent another text to the source saying the case seemed solid. Rock solid, came the reply.

The pride was obvious. Valadez’s colleagues would at least be able to offer his grieving family the promise of justice for his killers.

That’s a comfort the families of Jose Vazquez and Robert Soto are still waiting to feel.

Half Works, We Just Don't Know Which Half

by Marcus Sakey

Our regularly scheduled broadcast by Sean Chercover will return next time; today he's stuck on the road, so you're stuck with me.

And I'd like to put you to work.

Last week I asked you about Twitter, and whether you thought it was a helpful marketing tool. The results were interesting--and impassioned--and gave me a lot to consider. This time, I'd like to broaden the question.

What makes you buy books?

A softball, I know. Okay, so first of all, let's assume that the most common answer is "knowing I like the author," followed closely by "reviews or word of mouth." For me at least, those are the clearly leading contenders. After that I suspect we have "a great cover, with great reviews / blurbs / flap copy."

The thing is, the first two of those are not under our control as writers. For the third, I'm fortunate to have a publisher who does bad-ass work in that department, and who is open to my thoughts. But that's not actually marketing--it's packaging. It's also wrapped at this point.

My new book is out on August 6th, which means I'm heading into the promotional period. And as I do, I'm wondering where I should spend my time and money. And since people like you are the people I'm trying to reach, I'd really appreciate your thoughts. Should I focus on:

• Touring?
• Contests?
• Facebook advertising?
• Google advertising?
• Book trailers?
• Promotional swag?
• Book clubs?
• Blog tours?
• Literary festivals?
• A bigger, better web site?
• Email blasts?
• Something else? Digital or real world?

If I could ask all of you a favor, could you take one minute, just one, and think of the last thing that made you buy a book you were unfamiliar with? I'd really appreciate it.

As an incentive, I'd be happy to send a signed hardcover of THE AMATEURS to whomever presents the best-reasoned, most compelling suggestion.

The Other Hat

by Libby Hellmann

I loved Sara’s post on Friday. Eloquent as usual, she talked about the need for quiet… a sustained quiet in order to dig down and pull out the words and ideas and feelings that are burbling beneath our psyches. I long for those periods, too, and wish they came more frequently. Like her, I face many distractions, some of my own making, some not. But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.

The Printers Row Lit Fest was held this weekend, and for many authors, Printers Row represents the other hat we wear these days… the promotional one. Many of us appeared at booths, including Mystery Writers of America and the Society of Midland Authors, and Big Sleep Books, hoping to sell our books, because, after all, that’s what you do at a book fair.

I don’t mind doing promotion. But I’m certifiably schizophrenic. Promotion -- especially at a book festival -- is completely antithetical to writing. There I am at a booth, books stacked in front of me, watching hundreds of strangers pass by on their way to ... somewhere. I’m aware that a host of additional authors at other booths sit with their books stacked up in front of them, also eagerly hoping to sell. And that doesn’t include the dozens of author panels, which have their own signings.

This year was especially challenging. It was cold and rainy on Saturday, warm and rainy on Sunday. Last year, if you remember, it was so hot we were shvitzing all day. On top of the elements, someone was either singing or playing French ballads over and over. Very loud, very minor key, very depressing. Note to organizers: no more French songs or I may have to ask my friend Vinny to handle things. Vinny is the type of guy you do not want to meet in a dark alley.

In fact, Printers Row can be overwhelming to an author who is not an extrovert, which is most of us. We have to be enthusiastic, cheerful,and eager to talk, but we can’t be too pushy. We have to smile, knowing most of the people couldn’t care less about us and our books. As opposed to the sensitivity with which we pride ourselves in our books, at book fairs we have to have a thick skin. We have to toss off the dismissive waves of the hands, the “don’t-bother-me” glares when you ask passers by whether they read mysteries. We have to recognize that most people don’t read crime fiction and still think the only books worth buying are “literature.” And that more than half of the others don’t read at all and are just looking for posters, blank journals (someone asked me if I had any for sale) or gifts.

We have to be pleasant, even when they hold your book in their hands (marketing people say it’s a good sign if they pick up the product and actually examine it) but then put it back down. We have to realize that most of the flyers we printed up so carefully and expensively will end up in the trash. We have to understand that we’re competing, not just with other mystery authors, but every author who’s ever written a book. And while we may want to turn up our nose because none of them could possibly write as well as us, most fair-goers don’t know that. And we can’t say anything.

Given all those obstacles, it’s a wonder any author would willingly put themselves in this position. But I do, year after year, because of one reason: when I do sell a book, it’s magic. I am acutely aware that someone has parted with their hard-earned money because they think I might offer them something of value. Usually, it’s someone I don’t even know. Someone with whom I’ve chatted for only 30 seconds.

It’s amazing to me. Absolutely frigging amazing that a stranger is willing to take a gamble on an intangible idea that happens to be my story. I feel humbled, grateful, and slightly awed. It’s why I write in the first place. And if I feel that way, imagine how the hundreds of other authors feel who sell one of their books to strangers. It really is magic.

So thanks, Printers Row and the Tribune, for making the magic happen. I’ll be back again next year... assuming the French music is gone.

For now, though, I’m happy to take off the other hat for a while and along with Sara, hope for a golden day.

What do you think?

Sister Carol Ann O'Marie

I'm sorry to report that Sister Carol Ann has died. Everyone who knew her respected her for her commitment to social justice and loved her for her humor. For details please go to The Bunburyist.

Rules of the Road

A friend of mine with four adult children says there are a hundred ways to raise a child, and they're all wrong.  The same thing is probably true of writing, except I'd say, they're all right.  If it works for you, it's the right way to write.

Still, I think there are some basics that help or hinder.

If you want to write, you need to read.  Rapper Kanye West doesn't read, and despises people who do, but he just signed a "book" deal to give the world his philosophy of life.  "I have a childlike purity" brought about by not cluttering my mind with other people's words.  Couldn't have said it better--he has the purity of a 2-day-old infant, mind uncluttered.  The interesting conundrum here is that if his fans read his book, he will actually have done a mitzvah by getting someone who (probably) doesn't read to open a book.

Still, for you and me, other people's words are what drew us to the writing world to begin with.  Caught in the Web of Words--that's the title James A H Murray's granddaughter gave to her memoir of the the man who created the Oxford English Dictionary.  And here we all are, caught in the web of words.  We come to books because they open doors into other worlds, other experiences.  All writers need to keep reading: it's step one of how we learn to hone our craft.  We read for delight, for escape.  We read to see what we wish we could do and what we hope we won't do. 

Rule 2, of course, is writing.  You can only learn to write by writing.  And rewriting.

Rule 3, Nothing dates as fast as slang.  Authentic  speech comes more from considering the attitudes and behaviors of characters more than nailing today's slang--whether it's from the street or the courtroom.  Many of us, including me, get our speech patterns from TV.  Something slick that works in ad copy doesn't make the best writing.

Rule 4, you have to be willing to take the big risks: the risks of exposing yourself.  And you can only do that by cultivating the gift of empathy.  The more you understand yourself, the better you'll understand the people you live with--the ones in your head, the ones in your actual kitchen or bar.

You need quiet, you need what Melville called "the silent grass-growing mode," in order to create.  When you're using the foreground of your brain, answering e-mails, cruising the Net==posting to the blog, or Twitter, you're interrupting the grass-growing mode and it's hard to get back to it.  You can't do them both at once.

Nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble do we retire than into our own souls, Marcus Aurelius wrote some 1800 years ago.  And that's where our stories live.  It's where we need to spend most of our time.  And it's where I seldom find myself these days.  Every morning starts for me with a vow that today will be the day my writing is the most important thing in my life--but so far, the dog, the bills, the this, the that, keep pushing it to the rear of the line.  I hope today will be that golden day for me, and for you as well.

Sara Paretsky

The Joys of the Book Launch Party/Is This Character Too Much Like Me?

My last book launch party was with the esteemed Mr. Sakey at Landmark, a swank, fabulous bar/restaurant on Halsted, in which I'd set a scene in my novel. Marcus couldn't get his ass in gear and get a book out at the same time as me this year so I had to do a book launch on my own last night.

A book party is, in some ways, like a wedding. People from all walks of your life show up - a partner from my first law firm, Clausen Miller, a friend from college, someone I met at a fashion show a week ago. And like a wedding, you don't get to talk to anyone for very long, leaving you to say goodbyes with fierce hugs and promises to get together soon. I had the book signing at Lizzie McNeills, Chicago pub right on the Chicago River. It was just as fabulous, although different than the splashier and glitzier affair at Landmark. But Landmark had fit my previous book, The Good Liar, which was a splashier, glitzier international thriller. And my new book, Red Hot Lies, the start of my Chicago mystery trilogy is a little different.

For one thing the main character's named is Izzy McNeil. I had been working for years on a character named Izzy, long before Grey's Anatomy came out. After the show was released and a well known character was named Izzy, some people urged me to change my character's name, but it was HER name by that point. It couldn't be changed. When I sat down to figure out her last name, I knew she was part Irish and Italian on her dad's side. The last name of McNeil popped in my head and again I was struck by a feeling that that was HER name - Izzy McNeil. When my dad pointed out that it was sort of like the name of a bar owned by some family friends, we knew we would have to have the book signing at Lizzie McNeill's.

But more than just the name similarity, I wanted the book launch party that Izzy McNeil, herself, would go to. Izzy loves dive bars, especially ones with popcorn machines. While Lizzy McNeill's is more than just a dive bar, it is, quite simply, a good old Irish pub. With a popcorn machine. It was perfect. And so was the book launch party.

We quickly sold out of a hundred copies of Red Hot Lies, and as people flipped through the pages, I kept getting questions about whether Izzy was me. As most of my friends know I, too, love a good dive bar with a popcorn machine in the corner. Like Izzy, I'm a red head, I'm a lawyer, and it's been pointed out that I have a bit of a mouth on me. Izzy is different than me, though. I don't have her tragic family background. My fiance didn't take off 3 weeks before my wedding. My client/father-figure wasn't killed. I have never mooonlighted as a private detective. Izzy is younger, cooler, hotter and taller than me. But the answer was yes, she is a character more like me than any I have written.

Technically, this is a no-no in a literary world. Your fiction is not supposed to be loosely disguised, autobiographical material. And maybe I shouldn't have made her so much like me. Maybe I will be giving too much of myself away. But after 7 books, working very very hard to make none of the characters like me or anyone I knew, I was ready to go home, so to speak. So when a friend last year asked why I wasn't writing about a sassy red-head from Chicago who was a lawyer, I could only pause and say, "I dunno. But I think it's time." So, is it wrong? Should I have avoided writing about anyone even remotely like me? I know writing teachers who would take me to task for it. I'd like to know what you think.

The Last F%$&ing Thing I Want to Do

by Marcus Sakey

I know everyone's doing it.

I know it's the new thing.

I know about Ashton Kutcher's contest with CNN.

I know that I can link it to my Facebook profile.

I know that it's the modern form of haiku--which is a horrifying thought, by the way.

I still don't want to fucking Twitter.

There are a couple of reasons. First of all, while I know a lot of people make it funny, clever, and wry, the idea of broadcasting hour-to-hour "status updates" of my life still has a whiff of self-indulgence to me:


Second, and more important, is the amount of time it takes. If you're going to do it, the point is to make it entertaining, or at least clever--and that takes effort. Effort I should probably spend on my novels.

But still. Everybody seems to be doing it. A dozen people in the last week have asked me if I Twitter, and recommended that I start. My publicist has suggested it. And like it or not, self-promotion is part of the novelist gig these days.

I don't have a problem with that. I've toured extensively, usually on my dime; I have a regularly updated website filled with honest, hard-earned tips; I have a Facebook page, I go to conferences, I do drop-in signings, I speak at libraries and universities, I call in to book groups, and I am, of course, a member of The Outfit.

And truth be told, if I were to be convinced that Twittering is a valuable promotional tool, that it will bring me more readers or sell more books or make for more crowded signings, then, shit, I'm game.

Which is why I'm throwing it out to all of you. What do you think? Do you do it? Do you find it valuable? Who do you follow, and why, and does that make you feel more closely connected to them?

And if you Twitter yourself, do you dig it? Do you find it takes a lot of time? Or is it rewarding? I was reluctant to join Facebook too, and yet I do enjoy it...

Finding Time

The most common question I am asked about writing is, “When do you find the time?” It is unfortunate, and maybe ironic, that fiction writing (which I consider to be an escape from reality) is often interrupted by reality—by my other job or time commitments. But the truth is, I am “writing” much of the time when I am nowhere near a computer. I am observing and considering and creating all day. When I’m on my game, I have my trusty note pad or tape recorder with me to put the idea down—though most of the time the translation from my brain to the pad of paper loses something. Anyway, when I am really busy at my “other job” (January through May at least), this kind of loose “writing” is critical to me, because I have almost zero time in front of the laptop.

I also “write” whenever I am presented with art that I truly admire. Occasionally, I go to the symphony and listen to some of the world’s top musicians; same for the annual trip to the opera. Those things are not at the top of my list of favorite things to do, but they inspire me, if for no other reason than because these people are absolutely excellent at what they do. The more common example is exceptional prose. The inspiration comes from the brilliance of the artist. I find myself motivated to be as good at my art as they are at theirs. I often find myself reading prose and suddenly ideas are pouring out about things I want to put down on paper. And the thoughts usually have nothing to do with what I am reading—I’m not stealing their ideas or even touching upon the same topics I am reading. I just find a surge of adrenaline and then suddenly, the creative process is flowing.

I have to be alone when I’m writing—lost in my own world when among others, or more typically physically isolated from others. I don’t sit in a park or a Starbucks and observe others, or anything like that. I don’t consider the process interactive. I could see where others might disagree. I know a lot of my colleagues “workshop” their chapters and their ideas. I don’t really do that. Maybe I should. In other areas of writing—legal writing, for me—I do take into account the opinions of others when formulating my words. But not so with creative writing. It has to be inside my brain, churning and evolving and crystallizing without intrusion from others.

I would be very interested in hearing from others on this score. What inspires you to write? Do you find it helpful to bounce ideas off others, or simply isolate yourself in your twisted, dark inner worlds like me? I don’t pretend to have the answers, and I firmly believe it my responsibility as a writer to evolve. The longer I live, the more competing responsibilities I have, and the more efficient I have to be with my writing. So if anyone out there has some deep thoughts on this topic, I am all ears.

Found

by Michael Dymmoch

The idea of collecting found objects wasn’t new when Davy Rothbart first published Found: The Best Lost, Tossed, and Forgotten Items.

I personally have files of notes like “You are A Fucking ASShole. You Parked your car literally on top of MiNe.”

God! I just hate pink!!” (on a pink envelope)

And — “CALABRESE IS STUPID TO THE OSMUNT TRIBE JOYCE AND TOMMY” —???!

Occasionally a spammer will give you a line you couldn’t make up, like today’s subject line: Man selling life onn e-bay [sic]. You may be able to spin a short story, at least, from that.

Most writers have been doing something like Found in their heads all their lives. No one could make up the kind of lines that catch a writer’s ear—lines filed away or sometimes written down on the spot for futures use or reference. Sometimes we quote them verbatim—

“All they do is run they mouth. Talk, talk, talk.”

“Her boyfriend musta didn’t care nothing for her—all he gave her was a scarf.”

And from a lady complaining that the hair straightening solution used by her hairdresser was too strong— “I don’t like that girl. She don’t know to cut stuff down so it don’t be so strong, so it don’t burn me around the edges.”

Sometimes we paraphrase. A bus driver once mentioned to me that he’d never been as aware of time as he was since he’d taken the job. I borrowed the concept for a story about a man dealing with loss— "From the moment we heard the diagnosis, I had my eye on the clock. I'd never been so conscious of time. Before she died, it traveled faster than light; since then, it's stopped.”

There are wonderful, time-sucking blogs dedicated to the use of found items or ideas the ducks in the bathroom aren't mine.

and to things people don’t necessarily want to admit—Post Secret.

Sometimes you can spin a whole yarn from someone’s discarded note or throwaway line, but visuals are even better. I managed to spin a novel, M.I.A., off the bumper sticker on an old car.



This one probably has a story behind it—








And how many stories could be spun around this (spotted under a bridge)?




(KILLING PEOPLE IS RUDE)




Have you a favorite sign or overheard quote you’d like to share? Or are you saving them all for your novels?