What Makes An Anthology The Best?

The SleuthSayers anthology, Murder, Neat, edited by our own Michael Bracken and Barb Goffman, has had the distinction of being named one of the finalists for the inaugural Derringer Award for Best Anthology in an impressive field of 2024 short crime fiction anthologies. I've edited two anthologies and contributed stories to almost a dozen including my own. I've also had a story included as an "Other Distinguished Story" in a volume of Best American Mystery Stories—an honor that means the notoriously critical series editor picked it as one of fifty out of a field of several thousand, but that year's guest editor failed to select it as one of the twenty to include in the anthology. So I feel qualified at what seems a good moment to talk about some of the elements of excellence in an anthology.

Any anthology needs focus. This may be provided by a theme, restriction of the setting or authorship to a certain region, or limitation of submissions to a particular group or organization. All the contributors to Murder, Neat are current or former SleuthSayers. The theme, some aspect of alcohol, bars, and drinking, was chosen after much lively discussion among the blogfellas. The highly regarded Noir anthology series from Akashic Books was fresh when it began with Brooklyn Noir. It now runs to more than a hundred books. I've heard that the publisher is deeply committed to publishing stories on a variety of aspects of the chosen location as well as a genuine noir flavor. On the other hand, the concept of the "anthology noir" has been a runaway success far beyond the original publisher's series. I wrote a story for Jewish Noir II (2022). The stories ranged from Biblical to paranormal to historical to modern, the genres from noir to comic to speculative, the settings spanned the globe. Submissions were by invitation only, but not all of the contributors were Jewish.

Some editors choose to engage potential readers through a mix of beloved authors and fresh voices. Those are the anthologies in which half the stories are by invitation, the other half by open call. I've never made it into one of those. I tried to seed my own anthology, Me Too Short Stories, with a few well-known authors along with open submissions in hopes of attracting a better publishing contract. As it happened, a political issue was raging at the time, and the more courted authors were the first to abandon ship. I persisted and ended up with a book of wonderful stories that failed to get the attention it deserved.

Apart from market considerations, the best anthology is one in which every story is a winner. I got that in the end with Me Too Short Stories. All the stories adhered to the theme, but each of them did it in a different way. None of the writers was famous, but all were terrific at working cooperatively and appreciated a strong editor. Even when fifteen or twenty or two dozen stories are all about bars or all about Jewishness or all about crimes against women, they can be as different as each writer's voice and way of building a unique structure on the three-cornered foundation of plot, character, and writing or storytelling.

Once the editor or editors have selected the stories, they must put them in the best possible order. This is a creative act, akin to putting together a single-author collection of short stories or poetry, and I assure you it produces endorphins. A well arranged anthology starts with a pie in the face—a first story that grabs the your attention (especially in the library or bookstore or in the Amazon sample) and makes you want to read on. The second and third stories must also make you want to read on, and they must be entirely different from the first and from each other—dark and light, tragedy and humor, horror and cozy, snappy dialogue and brooding narrative. And one of the very best must be saved for last, so you close the book with a smile or a sigh of satisfaction.

Rat Paradise

You’ve heard and read a lot of doom and gloom asserting the population is declining thus leading to social and economic collapse. This is a follow-up to Eve’s article earlier this month, ‘What Nature Does Best’.

Growth is good, proselytizes the Chamber of Commerce. Growth is great, sayeth city fathers. No such thing as too much, blabs Peter Thiel, who likes to think he’s scary smart and who advocates for a global population of 1 trillion, a staggering 12,077% jump from 8.212 billion.

A surprising number of people don’t realize population isn’t declining but rather its rate of growth is leveling off. In other words, we’re easing off the accelerator but the bus is still picking up speed (differential calculus to you readers who snack on maths before breakfast). Even Elon Musk got it wrong in possibly a careless slip of the tongue.

Sexology 101

That’s subject to change about fifty years from now when predicted growth trends whisper to a halt and theoretically may start to rewind. Blame men. Worldwide male fertility has declined for decades. Researchers are convinced chemical air and water pollution is affecting male hormones.

In a climate change world of microplastics where wildlife and plant varieties are disappearing, that is worrisome. For the past three-quarters of a century, America’s Breadbasket, its farms and fields and groves, have been replanted with condos and strip malls. Our oceans are slowly turning to waste. A series of aerial photographs over Caracas illustrate the great jungles drying and dying.

Observers muse the planet is fighting back. Is Earth exerting a form of human pest control?

Inevitably, a question arises of men shunning sex: self-described incels, male separatist MGTOW, and that ilk, a phenomenon observed in many developed countries. I had surmised they represent an insignificant (apologies for the unfortunate word choice) percentage of the population, but I was wrong. Researcher Miriam Lindner estimates 39% of men choose to be single or celibate. However, she claims a staggering 62% of women are eschewing relationships with men. Can we spell WGTOW?

Sociology 201

As mentioned above, city fathers and urban mothers have long and loudly claimed ‘Growth is Good’ when promoting pet projects, which have a peculiar way of enriching those urban mothers and fathers. A balance can be good too, a robust, inflation-free economy can be a very good thing, especially when linked to discovery, technology development, and innovation. Those economic ideals are rare because of population growth. As we hatch new people, we need resources to feed them and places to put them.

Sections of New York University’s ‘soft science’ courses dealt with over-population, and a significant portion of related sociology and psychology delved into ‘prisonization’, the socialization process that occurs when individuals mold to the culture of the prison environment. Prison is an extremely hazardous and unnatural environment, a world of fear, a population of discards, an environment without the opposite sex, a large population day after day, decade after decade jammed within cold concrete walls with little mental stimulation. Professionals draw parallels with population imbalances in our world, where too many people who crunch into tight quarters exhibit extreme behaviors– psychological disorders, rape, loneliness, death, fear, disproportionate homosexuality, hopelessness, and in some jails, vile, moldy food despite federal requirements for nutrition and prohibitions against using food or lack thereof as punishment.

I can report on this only through study and research. Our true first-line heroine and expert is Eve Fisher, who lives and observes firsthand what I can only write about. The main point is that prisons offer a peek into ‘Stand of Zanzibar’ effects of overpopulation.

Rat Paradise 25.0

Eve’s description of John Calhoun’s work slightly differs in details from my long-ago reading, likely because Calhoun’s lab ran numerous population experiments with rats and mice. Mostly I refer to Universe 25, forty to fifty-some rodents in a 4⅓×3m enclosure. The gist remains the same: a rodent utopia in which creatures are provided with every conceivable comfort and protection. They were given a predator-free, temperature controlled enclosures with nesting a cornucopia of materials, nourishing foods, optional treats, and willing, fecund sex partners.

In this abundant environment, the critters fornicated like bunnies, gorged on food, and relished their perpetual vacation. As the population grew, aberrant behaviors broke out– violence, rape (eventually including same-sex assault), lack of mothering, signs of mental instability. At some point, rat residents lost interest in sex, socializing, even eating. They isolated until the colony died out. Poof! Gone, incels in the end.

A number of conclusions might be drawn beyond overpopulation. One might consider human’s need adversity to survive, goals to strive for. Progressives and conservatives (not necessarily left and right) might both be right in different ways, we need to advance but we need roots. We require wholesome, challenging work for our own well-being.

Am I suggesting a link between male and female incels, and a wind-down of population growth? No. Yes. Perhaps. Maybe. I don’t know. But I wouldn’t rule it out.

Wall-E © Disney

Behavioral Sink

The opening minutes of Disney’s 2008 Wall-E suggest Earth was devastated by an environmental disaster. However, as the movie transitions, the rest of the story reveals the underlying crisis, a storybook depiction of Calhoun’s mouse utopia.

Seriously? A couple of friends believe adult animation is intellectually demeaning for grownups, but I love a good story in any form. Apparently viewers and critics agree with a 95% approval. I highly recommend Wall-E for thought-provoking exercise and entertainment, with or without nourishing popcorn.

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Inspired by Barry and Stephen

 

We've talked before about the fact that more short-story anthologies seem to be published these days than in the past. Especially short mystery/crime anthologies and--again especially--crime anthologies based on singers and songs.

Two of these music-themed anthologies were published since I last posted here, two weeks ago, and I was fortunate enough to have stories in them.

A Fanilow of Manilow

The first of those was A Killing at the Copa: Crime Fiction Inspired by the Music of Barry Manilow. Published by White City Press and edited by old friend Jay Hartman, this anthology contains thirteen stories and was released on March 18. My story there is called "Lonely Together," which is also the title of the song that inspired it, from the 1980 Manilow album Barry. (I suspect the reason I'm a fanilow is that so many of his songs bring back good memories.)

My story involves a man and woman who meet by chance at the bar of a Moscow nightclub. One is American and one's Russian and both are single, a situation that seemed to me to fit both the title while offering lots of chances for mystery and deceit and a twisty plot--in fact, there are several complete reversals in the storyline during the course of the tale. The whole thing is written almost entirely in dialogue between these two people, and since I love writing dialogue, that made it even more fun for me. At 2000 words it's fairly short, and includes only two scenes.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Computer

The second music-themed anthology was Every Day a Little Death: Crime Fiction Inspired by the Songs of Stephen Sondheim, published by Level Short and edited by writer/editor/globetrotter Josh Pachter. (This is the fifth of Josh's music-based anthology projects that I've been involved with--each one has been great fun and interesting, and I think I'm more excited about this particular story of mine than I've been about any of the others.) Every Day a Little Death features twenty writers, many of whom (except me) were chosen because they're extremely familiar with, and active in, the world of the theatre. It was released on March 22.

My anthology story, "I Love to Travel," is once again based on a song with the same title, this one from the Sondheim musical Frogs. This wasn't my favorite of his songs (my faves are probably "Send in the Clowns" and some of the tunes from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum), but this one was fun to spin a story around. My story, about 3800 words, includes two hicks from the South Louisiana swamps who decide to rob the eccentric CEO of a chain of Walmart-like retail stores. These idiots put together a gang of misfits who travel to Florida to pull the heist, which--surprise, surprise!--doesn't go as planned. Now that I think of it, this probably was a case of sending in the clowns . . .

Questions

How do you, as a writer and/or a reader, feel about these "inspired-by-the-music-of" anthologies? Do you find them enjoyable to write stories for? To read? How does that compare to other themes? Do you tend to play the song that's represented by a certain story while you're writing it?--I know some folks do. Does it have to be music by an artist you like, for you to enjoy the anthology? Does it make no difference, so long as the stories are good? Which one(s) of these projects--there have been many--have you most enjoyed? Which have you contributed a story to? Do you have any suggestions for music on which future themed-anthologies should be based? NOTE: I'll be traveling today and might not be able to reply right away, but your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.

In closing, I hope that, wherever you are, spring has sprung. (Begone from me, coats, gloves, and longjohns.) Dust off the pollen, keep reading those anthology stories, and keep writing!

How Do You Prepare to Write?

Last year, I had a difficult time writing. Even the stuck list I discussed in a previous guest post wasn’t working for me. With deadlines approaching and no creative gas in the tank, I started to worry and reached out to a friend. 

She asked me a simple question. “How do you prepare to write?”

I told her about my perfectly fine-tuned scheduled, how I juggled writing between other commitments and my lengthy to-do list. When I had a window of time, I sat behind my desktop, laptop, cellphone (whatever electronic device I had at my disposal), and that’s when I would write.

She laughed (in a kind way) and said, “Maybe that's your problem.” 

She suggested I try meditation. It was my turn to laugh. I had tried meditation and thoughts bounced around my head like Tigger in the Hundred Acre Wood. She suggested journaling. (I didn’t laugh this time because it would have been rude.) I never liked journaling. It felt like an excuse not to put “real words” on the page. I thanked her, filed her recommendations away, and returned to my Barnum and Bailey’s approach to life, determined to do “all the things,” without success. Until one blessed morning I had a mental break through. 

Maybe it happened because it was still early. Maybe it happened because I was in the shower, and it was quiet. I was standing under the water, going through my mental checklist for the day (maximizing my time, and winning, right?), when it hit me, the note behind my friend’s advice. My problem was mental clutter.

Mental Clutter

I love the way Amarie writes about this idea in her article on Medium: “Imagine the mind is like a web browser. Each thought, task, and worry is an open tab screaming for your attention. Some tabs may be for work, others for personal stuff, and others may be random anxieties. When too many tabs are open, everything slows down, and it’s hard to get anything done.” 

My friend was right. My perfectly optimized schedule wasn’t optimized at all. My life had turned into a game of whack-a-mole. The fifteen minute windows I had taken so much pride in leveraging were opening more tabs, draining my focus, and slowing me down. More than that, it was suffocating my creativity because I didn’t have space to think, imagine, or let my mind wander.

I talked to Michael Bracken about the challenges I’d been experiencing, and he pointed me to Cal Newport’s book Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World.

Deep Work

Cal Newport defines deep work as “focusing without distraction on a cognitively demanding task.” Context shifts (interruptions, checking email, social media) degrade your cognitive effectiveness. He explains that deep work is important because deep efforts are what move the needle, especially in knowledge work like creative writing. 

To perform at an optimal level, he recommends the following: engage in deep work, embrace boredom, abandon social media, and eliminate unnecessary tasks. (He talks about this more on his YouTube Channel.) Armed with Cal Newport’s insights and recommendations from my friend, I decided my approach to writing in 2025 would be different. 

Time Blocking

In the evenings I mapped out my schedule for the following day, rearranging tasks, creating longer blocks of time to write, taking a mindful approach to deep work tasks and measuring their outcome. I discovered this focused approach helped reduce the chaos I felt in the past and helped me focus during writing windows. 

Strategically Check Email, Social Media, & the News

I also blocked time in my schedule for checking email, social media, and reading the news—trying my best to do these activities after deep work sessions knowing they would trigger “open tab, open tab moments” and weigh me down. I also blocked email and social media during writing windows and left my phone on a table outside my office door, close enough to hear if the school called but far enough away so I couldn’t reach for it reflexively.

Know My Why

Roni Loren, an amazing performance coach, reminded me that when I say “yes” to something, I say “no” to my writing. It was sobering, and it has stayed with me. I have tried to look at new opportunities and consider them with this outcome in mind.

Prepare to Write

In order to take advantage of deep work blocks of time, I started journaling—morning pages to clear away the noise. I will start a bigger project soon. As an experiment, I have decided to try evening pages—brainstorming scenes I intend to write the following morning to prepare. I also made reading a priority again. It had fallen to the wayside when things were soul-crushingly busy, and I needed to read in order to write. I tried meditation again, two minutes each morning before I started writing. I focused on my breathing, and the difference it made was remarkable.

White Space

I started prioritizing white space on my calendar. I took the dog for a walk in the woods, no headphones, no recording device. I went for a run. Some of the best ideas I’ve had this year came during moments when I left my productivity expectations behind.

How do you prepare to write? Have you tried deep work? What productivity tips do you have for writers? 

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My story “Mary Poppins Didn’t Have Tattoos” is now featured on Rabia Chaudry's acclaimed podcast, The Mystery Hour. At the end of the reading, Rabia skillfully connects elements of the story to real-life true crime events. I'm delighted with the final result. I hope you feel the same. Check it out on your favorite podcast app.

Crime Scene Comix Case 2024-03-028, Control Top Cop

Once again we highlight our criminally favorite cartoonist, Future Thought channel of YouTube. We love the sausage-shaped Shifty, a Minion gone bad.

Yikes! In this Crime Time episode, only one outcome is possible.

 

 

 

 

© www.FutureThought.tv

 

That’s today’s crime cinema. Hope you enjoyed the show. Be sure to visit Future Thought YouTube channel.

l'Art du Crime

The Art of Crime is another show I’ve discovered, streaming on MHz, and I like it, but…

It’s funny what pulls you in, and what waves you off.

Very often, you find a book series, or TV, to be an acquired taste. I wasn’t drawn in right away, for example, by Jackie Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs books. I loved her memoir, This Time Next Year We’ll Be Laughing, but it took me a couple of books to warm up to Maisie. (Once I was sold, I was sold.)

I’ve tried to read James Benn’s Billy Boyle series – I read two start to finish, and cracked the spine on a couple more, hoping my first impression was wrong – but I’m sorry, they leave me cold as a mackerel. (This is a private opinion, obviously; your math may differ.) 

A show it took me the entire first season to even tolerate was Brokenwood, and well you might ask why I bothered, but something kept pulling me back, and I’m glad it did: I think I had to get over my aggravation with DI Mike Shepherd, who just seemed like one of those guys you’d go out of your way to avoid in the workplace.

 A classic example of this is Death in Paradise, which is hands down the most annoying show on television. They had the inimitable Ben Miller for the first season, and he’s the reason I watched Primeval (along with Doug Henshall), but then they cast the utterly execrable Kris Marshall, and almost killed the show. Seriously, if not for the supporting characters and the Caribbean landscapes, I would have given up.

Speaking of, although I’m nuts about Deadly Tropics (which is a terrible and uninviting title), but like the cast more than the scripts, I’m crazy about the local scenery of Martinique. Here’s another one. I was on the fence about Signora Volpe, even if the hot ex-spy and her hot Italian love interest give it romantic appeal, what convinced me were the fabulous Umbrian backdrops. Which, circling back, is a big selling point of The Art of Crime.

It’s shot in Paris. Ça suffit. Some of the surrounding countryside ain’t too shabby, either. But mostly, it’s in the city itself, and often some unrecognizable alley, off the beaten path. It’s not always the Champs Elysées, although you get a lot of I.M. Pei’s pyramid at the Louvre. I think they shoot inside the Louvre, too, but staircases and hallways, not the galleries, apparently. I’m not actually sure. They obviously got permission to shoot interiors at the Musée d’Orsay, once famously a train station, serving the southwest of France. And certainly other locations I don’t recognize. This is a big plus for me,

I have to admit, and not just in this show. I love the genuinely terrible Armin Mueller-Stahl policier variously titled Midnight Cop, or Killing Blue, because they shot it in Berlin and never showed a single familiar landmark, like the Brandenburg Gate or the Memorial Church. The Art of Crime opened an episode at the Temple de la Sybille, an architectural folly on top of an artificial waterfall in the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, sixty-one acres of manicured grounds in the Nineteenth that I’m embarrassed to say I never heard of, or visited. And it’s clearly as famous to Parisians as the Bois de Boulogne. That’s exactly my point. When somebody who knows a place intimately uses the landscape as character, you see it with a fresh eye.

I don’t mean to damn The Art of Crime with faint praise. It’s got a cool premise, not necessarily art theft, but art adjacent crime. This is the French OCBC, not a fictional crew, that investigates cultural property trafficking – smuggling, counterfeits, money laundering – and our entrée is to team a streetwise plainclothes cop with an artwise academic. They expend a little too much nervous energy at the beginning, rubbing each other the wrong way, but you let it go. (It’s like Jonathan Frakes; you don’t take Riker seriously until he grows his beard.)

 The obligatory exasperated senior officer, on the other hand, is a much better character in this show, not a wet blanket but a full narrative partner. There’s also the trope where the art expert explains herself to her psychiatrist, not to mention explaining herself to imaginary artists, Toulouse-Lautrec, Hieronymus Bosch, da Vinci. The only superfluous character is the art expert’s dad, an unnecessary aggravation.

I should be clear, that I in fact find it quite charming, in spite of the occasional too-cutesiness.

You realize they established certain dynamics, but after the shakedown cruise, they didn’t throw the excess cargo overboard. Somebody on the team was too proprietary. Be that as it may. I’ve finished Season Three (out of an existing eight, but only two episodes a season), and I’ll finish them.

I think, as I’ve said before, that there’s a different rhythm to European cop shows. It’s an enlivening change of pace.

Literary Relationships

When we first have enough confidence in our writing—whether justified or not—to begin submitting our short stories, our goal is to find one editor—any editor—who likes our work well enough to publish it. Some of us achieve our first publication early and some of us grind for years before we break through.

If we’re lucky, we find an editor who likes our work well enough that it leads to multiple acceptances, and it may even lead to additional opportunities when that editor puts together invitation-only anthologies. This is a good thing.

Sort of.

Initially, it is wonderful to realize you have developed a strong working relationship with an editor and are confident that you have, through that relationship, a reliable home for your work. It’s a form of literary monogamy.

Me? I try to avoid literary monogamy because it can lead to heartbreak.

FEAR OF MISSING OUT

First, there’s the fear of missing out. There’s the fear that, had I tried harder, I might have developed a better relationship.

For example, if you review your list of published stories and discover that most of them have appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, with only the occasional dalliance with other publications, you probably aren’t missing out on much.

However, if most of your stories have appeared in Jim Bob’s Magazine of Mystery, you probably are missing out. It’s time to make a concerted effort to step up to the next level. Don’t abandon Jim Bob yet, but don’t make his publication the first place you submit a new story. Send that story to Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine or Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine first or to the publications that aren’t quite at their level but fall somewhere on the scale below them and above JBMoM.

Once you step up to the next level, and can do so consistently, it may be—to torture the metaphor a bit—time to practice literary serial monogamy. Leave Jim Bob behind. Devote your time and attention to your new, improved literary relationship.

I SPY A WANDERING EYE

Some of us—especially those who might be considered prolific—need to develop more than one literary relationship.

If you review your list of published stories and find that most have appeared in one or the other of two publications, you’re already on your way to literary polyamory. You have established that you can satisfy the needs of at least two editors, so it may be time to put some effort into developing a third relationship.

By diversifying your attention, you can alleviate the inevitable disappointments that come from investing too heavily in your relationship with a single editor. Editors, die, retire, and change jobs. Publications die or change focus. Publishers cut back or eliminate anthologies from their list.

If you don’t already have relationships with other editors, your writing career might come to a screeching halt.

I’ve experienced this several times during the many years I’ve been writing.

Magazine editors who liked my work were replaced by editors who didn’t. Editors who included my work in their anthologies stopped editing. Magazines and anthology lines ceased publication. All of which left me scrambling for new markets because I had not developed enough relationships.

Worst of all was when entire genres collapsed. Even though I developed multiple literary relationships within several genres, each time one of them imploded I lost every relationship in that genre at essentially the same time.

LITERARY MONOGAMY OR LITERARY POLYAMORY

As an editor, I enjoy relationships with several writers I count on to provide stories I want to publish, who deliver on time and on theme, and who are easy to work with through the editing process. I never ask if they think we have a monogamous relationship or polyamorous relationship.

Whether your goal is to be a literary serial monogamist, regularly stepping up to better and better markets, or your goal is to be a literary polyamorist, the path is essentially the same:

Keep your current editorial relationship(s) solid, but always, always, always, keep your eyes open for the next opportunity. Strive to improve your work. Diversify the genres (or subgenres) you write. Then submit, submit, submit.

And never take actual relationship advice from me.

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Reminder: Murder, Neat: A SleuthSayers Anthology (Level Short), which I coedited with Barb Goffman, is currently nominated for the Short Mystery Fiction Society’s inaugural Derringer Award for Best Anthology. There’s still time to order and read a copy before voting begins.

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