Scaring Myself: The Challenges of Writing a Dual Time-Line Thriller

It's always nice to know many fellow mystery authors, either personally or at least via social media, because then I often can contact someone to ask if they'd be kind enough to write an article for me.  It happened just the other day, after I'd finished reading Lee Goldberg's latest title, Calico.

As a writer I was fascinated by the idea of writing a story, involving two different genres, and two different timelines in the same book. With Calico he's done something I think maybe only a handful of authors today could do successfully.  
Lee's an amazing best selling book writer but is also a TV screen writer, producer and developer, from Diagnosis Murder to Monk, to Bond & Goldberg Terrorize a Nursing Home. Okay, he lied about that last one or perhaps I lied. Honestly, he's written numerous books, including five with Janet Evonavich. He is a two-time Edgar nominee from MWA, a Shamus nominee from PWA, and a 2024  SPur nominee for contemporary western from  Western Writers. He's also a book publisher. I just have no idea when he sleeps, eats or enjoys family time. Unless, he's like Asimov and has a basement of trained monkeys banging away on keyboards.

So when I contacted, my pal, he happened to already have written about the origins and evolving of writing Calico, and which he immediately sent to me. Now it's with great pleasure, I present Lee's article, "Scaring Myself."  - Jan Grape


Scaring Myself: The Challenges of Writing a Dual Time-Line Thriller 

by Lee Goldberg
 
My thriller Calico, out this week in a new paperback and deeply discounted ebook editions, is both a contemporary police procedural…and a traditional western set in 1883. What the two storylines share is a body, buried in a shallow grave in California’s desolate Mojave desert.

I’d been thinking about the story for years… but put off writing it because I had too many contractual commitments and not enough time in-between them to do it. Those are lies, of course, excuses I told myself to justify not writing the book.

The truth is, the story terrified me. Thrillers are hard enough to write without trying to balance two time-lines and, on top of that, two wildly different genres (actually, three genres, but talking about that would be a spoiler).

The challenge of telling two connected stories, one in the past and one in the present, is making sure the reader isn’t ahead of the characters in either time-line. Because if you fail, it will kill the suspense and the mystery. There will be no surprises. Yet, you also don’t want to withhold information from the reader, because that would be cheating. The trick is knowing when to cut away from one time-line to the other, so the reader is never quite sure how much they really know. Maintaining that delicate balancing act throughout the story is the sweet spot because, if you can pull it off, it creates a palpable tension that generates excitement… the thrill in thriller.

You also have to create two protagonists, one in each time-line, that the reader will find equally compelling and that will anchor the reader so they can endure the shifting POVs. In Calico, those characters are Beth McDade, a disgraced ex-LAPD cop, seeking redemption as a San Bernardino County Sheriff’s detective in the Mojave Desert in present day…and, in 1882, it’s unskilled wanderer Ben, desperately trying to survive in a silver mining camp located in a scorching, dry, desolate hell-scape. Ben’s choices in the past will have a profound impact on Beth’s life over 135 years later, when a homicide investigation will either redeem her… or destroy her.

I created a spreadsheet to track the two time lines…as well as the key plot moves/reveals which, if given away too soon or too late, could ruin the entire book. I also used the spread sheet to get a sense of the pacing, of when it would be the right time, emotionally or thematically, to shift time periods, to keep the narrative momentum moving at warp-speed.

Beyond telling a two-track story, I wanted to take the two genres (actually three) and, while delivering on the familiar tropes, also subvert all the baked-in cliches and expectations. So, I gave myself another delicate balancing act to perform: delivering a true police procedural and a western (and that other genre I’m not revealing), while also de-constructing them to create something new.

And if you’re crossing genres, and time-lines, it’s essential that you maintain the same tone and pacing across them both, so it doesn’t feel like two different books, but one relentlessly engaging thriller.

Calico was the hardest book I’ve ever written (out of nearly 40) but, in some ways, it’s been the most creatively rewarding. I’m glad I took the risk. Because I believe if I don’t occasionally scare or challenge myself, I’m going to fail anyway – because my writing will become formulaic and complacent. 

I hope you’ll read Calico… and that you’ll let me know if my high-wire act worked…or if I hit the ground with a sickening splat.  

In Memorium

I first met Susan Rogers Cooper, in 1990, when Elmer and I had the Grand Opening of our bookstore, Mysteries & More, in Austin, Texas. She had this gorgeous red hair and was wearing a white dress. She was beautiful and as we became friends I learned she was even more beautiful inside. We became BFFs, traveling to mystery cons together and rooming together each time we went.  

Our husbands hit it off and I can't remember how many holidays we spent together, mostly at Thanksgiving oy 4th of July. Usually at their house but a couple times at mine.

She and Don had a teen-age daughter, and by her Senior year, Evin, wanted to do a little part-time work in the store. She and Elmer worked that out, giving him some needed Tuesday afternoons off. 

Flash forward to 1998:

I really wish I had pictures from way back in the 1900s (circa 1998) when Susan & I went to New York City, but we didn't have cell phones back in those ancient times  to photograph everything right then and there. 1998  was the year we were both nominated for a Edgar award. That's the annual mystery writing prize given by The Mystery Writers of America, in case you might might not have heard of such things. Susan was nominated for Home Again, Home Again for Best Paperback Original while I was nominated for Best Critical/Biographical for Deadly Women, along with my Co-editors Dr. Dean James, and the late, Ellen Nehr.

 Naturally, we were astounded to be nominated, BUT in the same year? Fortunately, Susan's book is fiction and mine is non-fiction so we weren't in competition with each other. Neither Susan nor I won, but the nominees are forever etched in MWAs Edgar Awards database. And it did always looked good on our resumes. 

 Although, we admitted not winning was a bit of a let-down at the
Edgar Awards Banquet on Thursday  night, Susan and I had a great time in NYC. On Wednesday, we rode the ferry and saw the Statue Of Liberty. We didn't go up because we were meeting Carole Lee Benjamin, a fellow mystery writer who lives in Greenwich Village. The Village had been known as the epicenter of the 1960s counter-culture and Carole Lee graciously showed us around. 

On Friday, our last day before heading home on Saturday and while walking down one of the Avenues, trying to decide our plans for the day, I spotted the famous Waldorf Astoria. That hotel has been mentioned in so many books and movies, so I said, "let's go look it over." When we arrived I said, "Come on, let's go inside." We looked around, the lobby was quite elegant. I managed to coax Susan into the open bar. It was probably around 10:30 in the morning they were only serving cokes. So we sat, snacking on the these fabulous toasted walnuts and trying to figure out what other placed we might like to see. 

Susan said she'd always wanted to have lunch at Tavern On The Green in Central Park. Since I've never known to be shy, I jumped up, walked out of the bar and spotted the Concierge's desk. The gentleman there was quite busy with a couple of people ahead of me and the phone ringing, but when he asked if he could help, I said my friend Susan and I wanted to go to lunch at Tavern On The Green, and did we need reservations?  He said, "One moment."  He spoke quietly into a phone, then turned back to me, "You have a reservation at 11. I'll have one of the doormen get you a taxi."  He didn't ask if we were guests of the hotel. Guess he just assumed we were.

We had a great lunch then walked thru the little tavern shopping mall where I bought a pair of art deco grape earrings. We eventually walked back out the restaurant's front door.  It had a beautiful green awning portico and the young doorman asked if we'd like a ride through the park. We said yes and a white horse-drawn carriage stopped right in front of us. We climbed aboard and before we could even think twice, our tour guide was pointing out the lake and the Bow Bridge and the Dakota Building where many celebrities lived. It was where Yoko Ono still lived, and also was where John Lennon had been gunned down in 1980. Our tour guide then called our attention to the "IMAGINE," black and white tile mosaic circle made in John's honor and the Strawberry Fields garden.  After we got back to our hotel room, we talked way into the night and laughed about our crazy day. 

For years, on many mystery convention trips we would room together, but that NYC one was most memorable. 

Years later, we even took a cruise to Cancun, which included swimming with dolphins and high-lighted by my friends,  musician/singer/songwriters Mike Blakely and John Arthur Martinez both from Marble Falls. John even gave Susan his autographed straw sombrero. We always had a great time together, and we always laughed so much.

 I still can't imagine this world without, Susan,  my Best Friend Forever. But if there is a heaven, I can't help imagining Susan, along with Don Cooper and Elmer Grape lounging on a big cloud somewhere swearing they've been waiting on me. We'll be talking talking and laughing about leaving "Austin City Blue" and "Houston in the Rear View Mirror."

Time to Say Adios

Okay, I haven't known Marcia Muller for 47 years but perhaps a little closer to 37 years. I'm sorta on shaky ground but reasonably sure my first Bouchercon was 1989 when I met Ms Muller. By 1992, I knew her well enough to invite her to come do an author signing at Mysteries and More bookstore, which Elmer and I owned from 1990 to 1999. Or maybe it was 1995, when she and her husband Bill Pronzini came for a duo signing.

They drove to Austin from Houston where they had done an event earlier at Murder by the Book store. It was a Saturday and our event wasn't scheduled until Tuesday as our store was normally closed on Monday. The next day happened to be Easter Sunday when we understandly were closed. It all turned out fine as they joined us at Elmer's niece's house where we had family and a delicious Easter dinner.

The next day we took them to see our beloved Hill Country where the Texas bluebonnets and other wildflowers made it a fabulous weekend. Elmer and Bill bonded then which led to visits back and forth through the years. On one trip to CA, I was able to finagle a plane ride with Marcia and her flying instructor. Another time, a drive with Marcia along the coast, led to a visit to the "real week-end getaway belonging to Sharon McCone & Hy Ripinski."

I read EDWIN OF THE IRON SHOES soon after it came out and decided then and there I'd be friends with Sharon McCone through all her adventures. I am totally thrilled she found true love and is happy with her life. Although it makes me a little sad to know CIRCLE IN THE WATER is the last Sharon McCone book, as a fan and a friend, I can totally understand. I will advise you readers and fans to get your copy on the 24th. However, I'm also sure you can pre-order now.

— Jan Grape

TIME TO SAY ADIOS
by Marcia Muller

Creating a long-running series –47 years– has been a pleasure. Also frustrating. Maddening. Crazy-making. All those story lines to remember. All those characters to make toe the line. All those real-life locations to check out for changes.

Story lines: many of them in my Sharon McCone series are intertwined, dating back to 1977.

Characters: they've moved residences, switched jobs, married, divorced, even– *shock!* –changed their hairstyles.

Real-life locations: throughout California and many other areas, they're radically different from those I started out with, particularly in San Francisco.

Which all adds up to why, in my current and last McCone novel (Circle in the Water, Grand Central Books, April 23) I've written an afterword, bringing the reader up to date on where the characters are now and the good things their lives will lead them toward in the future.

I emphasize good things. After all, for 47 years they've been good to me. Why shouldn't I be good to them?

And of course, the book is dedicated in part to my readers, who have made my long career possible. Thanks to them all!

Adios!

The Murder of Mr. Ma

I'm not 100% sure when I first met SJ Rozan, but think it was while attending a Bouchercon, maybe San Diego in 1994 or '95. The night before the Shamus banquet, I had been invited to join a group, including SJ and her editor, and four or five other writers to go eat Chinese food. After we ate, everyone at the table read their fortune cookies out loud. SJ's read something to effect that she would soon be given a great honour.

The next night, at the banquet she and her book won the Shamus Award for Best First novel. I had to smile, because I had been on the committee reading for that award and knew we had voted to give it to SJ, for her first book, CHINA TRADE. Later that evening when she mentioned what the fortune cookie foretold, I said I'd had hardest time in my life to keep a straight face, knowing that she would indeed be given that award. Then in 1998, at Bouchercon in Philadelphia, when they announced Jan Grape had won the Anthony for Best Short Story, SJ found me and gave me a big hug before I even got to the stage to receive my award.

It has been 30+ years of admiration, affection and friendship as I have watched her growth from a novice into a top best-selling author.  Now she's stepping off into a new and thrilling adventure about the 1920s London along with co-author, John Shen Yen Nee. Here's a tidbit about SJ's latest title, MURDER OF MR. MA.

— Jan Grape

The Murder of Mr. Ma

The Murder of Mr. Ma, the start of a new series co-written by me and John Shen Yen Nee, comes out April 2^nd. It's been suggested that it would make a good post if John and I interviewed each other. However, getting John to sit down on a schedule is like trying to nail Jello to the wall. John's strength is also his weakness: his mind is like an explosion in a Roman candle factory, ideas whizzing off in all directions. Since we began working together it's been my job to organize, thin out, augment, and write those ideas into a book.

So instead of searching for my Jello hammer, I shall interview myself.

SJR: That's ridiculous.

SJR: Why? I talk to myself all the time.

SJR: Good point. So if John's so impossible to pin down, how did you manage to write this book?

SJR: The Murder of Mr. Ma, was based on a idea John had been thinking about for awhile. During the pandemic he had time to flesh it out. In fact he fleshed it out to a sixteen page single-spaced outline. Then he went looking for a writer.

 SJR: He set out writer traps -- cups of coffee, reams of paper?

SJR: That might have worked, but no. He called his friend Alex Segura, who recommended that he call Alex's agent, Josh Getzler. Josh is also my agent. When he heard the idea for Mr. Ma he thought I might be the right writer for it. He asked if I'd talk to John. Remember, this was a few months into the pandemic. I was talking to the walls. A stranger with a project? You bet I'd talk to him.

SJR: And the rest was history?

SJR: Lots of history. The Murder of Mr. Ma, is set in London, 1924. It involves the Chinese Labour Corps in France during World War One.

SJR: The what?

SJR: Exactly. The book's detecting duo are Judge Dee, made famous by Robert Van Gulik, and Lao She, an actual Chinese novelist. I was familiar with Judge Dee, and I'd heard of Lao She, but I'd never read him. John started sending me books, and more books. Also, my knowledge of London in the 1920's was vague -- transport, neighborhoods, clothes. I needed yet more books for that.  The learning curve, on my end, was steep.

SJR: But at least John's outline was perfect.

SJR: John's original outline contained not only the kitchen sink, but also all the appliances, cabinets, and original marble counters. We had to make some, er, judicious cuts.

SJR: And then -- ?

SJR: And then, after all that reading and cutting, I was ready to write. I sent John a sample chapter. This was a fraught moment. If the voice of Lao She as it sounded in my head wasn't the voice John hoped for, I was off the project. Not that John said that, but I did, because any writer will tell you once a voice comes to you, it can't be changed.

SJR: You actually hear voices in your head?

SJR: I'm talking to you, aren't I?

SJR: Another good point. But John must have liked it.

SJR: He loved it. We'd hit the same wavelength. And thus the writing began.

SJR: But there was another big roadblock, wasn't there?

SJR: There sure was. One of the features of this book and this series is action. A lot of changes of setting, and kung fu fighting. Neither John nor I are kung fu experts.

SJR: You needed a consultant.

SJR: And we found one! One of those miracle friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend stories, New York style. We were steered to Master Paul Koh of Bo Law Kung Fu in Chinatown. He loved the project and he's been everything we could hope for. His kung fu choreography and his sense of humor are fabulous.

SJR: Okay, all this sounds great. But you speak of this as a new series. I plaintively ask, What about Bill Smith and Lydia Chin?

SJR: Bill and Lydia are fine. The Mayors of New York, narrated by Bill Smith, came out 4 December. A new Lydia-Chin-narrated book is underway.

SJR: You can do two things at once?

SJR: Haven't we just proved that?

SJR: Another --

SJR: Good point.

SJR: While we're talking about your multitudinous personalities, you also teach. Talk about that.

SJR: I love to teach. I have students in NYC who've been with me for years. I also travel to do some workshops, and for years I've done one in Assisi, Italy, as part of Art Workshop International. Now I want to get serious for a minute.

SJR: Oh no.

SJR: Here's the thing. This year's Assisi workshop is June 27 -- July 12. Every year I have people who say, "You know, maybe next year I'll come." But do you remember 2019? All the things we were going to do "next year?" There was no next year. Everything was canceled. Pretty much true of the year after that, too. I want to say: If there's something you want to do, and you have the time and the money, do it now. It doesn't have to be Assisi -- though I hope it is so we can work on your book. But whatever it is, do it. Do it now!

SJR: You make yet another good point.

SJR: You know the great thing about interviewing myself? I'm always right.

Honorable Heroes

Jan Grape

Despite what some in our country have said or even still say, and despite the public's lack of remembrances on D-Day and Pearl Harbor Day, the 7^th of December, I still like to remember and honor WW-II veterans. Maybe because it's been over 82 years since Pearl Harbor was bombed. While the wars afterwards, like Korea, Viet Nam are in the distant, 70 and 48 years ago, respectively, too many people think of them as ancient history. My children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren should all know of those historical days and learn about things that happened during my father's life-time and my life-time.

You should know heroes come in all shapes and colors and religions and backgrounds and perhaps even other planets. Sometimes it might be a family member of some person you know and love. Like even a best friend's husband.

Like this young man, Courtenay Wright who was born and raised in Canada.

He was 16 when Germany declared war on Britain and France. He immediately wanted to enlist, but needed his mother's permission. She refused, saying he must finish his undergrad studies first. He immediately enrolled at the University of British Columbia, attending around the clock and finishing with a degree in physics at age 19.

A week later Courtenay, joined the Canadian Navy and almost was immediately seconded to the Royal Fleet. Canada had agreed to provide engineering and physics students to the British Navy to train in the new field of radar and work on British warships.

Courtenay Wright

At age 20, Courtenay was the radar officer on the HMS Apollo which took Eisenhower and Montgomery to Normandy beaches. He was the officer on duty when the coded signal came in from the Admiralty. He was the first person in the world to know the exact time and destination of the landing as he translated the radar message and hand carried it to the head of the fleet. This historical day, is also known as June 6, 1944 D-Day. The troops landing at Normandy, which was the beginning of the end of Germany and WW-II.

The BBC once interviewed Courtenay Wright, former Royal Navy Lieutenant, long-time professor physics at the University of Chicago, and if you haven't yet guessed, he was husband of mystery novelist Sara Paretsky. The young interviewer wanted to know what had it felt like, the thrill, the awe, whatever emotion Courtenay could remember from that moment.

Sara Paretsky

Courtenay kept saying, "It was my job. I was doing my duty." That overrode any sense of being special. No hero or glory in this man's mind or being.

Sara says, "Courtenay had the highest sense of duty and the highest level of integrity and morality of anyone I have ever known."

I personally never met Professor Wright, sadly he passed away in 2018 age age 95, but he was a hero. He certainly was not "a loser or a sucker" as an ex-President once said about soldiers or military persons.

We don't just have war heroes. They may be law enforcement, fire-fighters, first responders, life-guards or your own dad or wife or signifigent other. They seldom ever talk about it and if you ask them they usually smile. "I was just doing my job. Or I just happened to be there at the right time."

Professor Wright worked with scientists of his day, including Enrico Fermi, and was one of the scientists who wrote to the president advising against using atomic weapons in Southeast Asia. Men like Courtenay Wright are honorable heroes because of their life-long work to keep all of us safe.

May all your heroes know you care for them this Christmas Day. May Santa fill your stocking with acceptance letters and royalty checks and may we all have PEACE from wars wherever they may be waging. And bring home all hostages NOW, please, Santa.

---

Our Spook Houses

My late husband, Elmer Grape, loved Halloween as much as Christmas, maybe even a little more. He always said kids liked to be scared. Nothing to hurt them, just something fun scary. So when Halloween rolled around, he was like a little kid himself. Every October 31^st, I think of our Spook Houses in the mid-1970s. Our house in Houston had a sidewalk leading from the driveway to the front door located under an overhang eve, a little wider than the walkway. Elmer was a commercial construction superintendent and had access to rolls of black plastic, Visqueen. Like garbage bags but thicker and blacker. He hung the plastic from the overhang making a dark corridor to our front door where an evil looking Jack-O-Lantern sat. Kids would have to walk the ten feet to the front door and ring the doorbell. I dressed in a long black dress and ratted my dark hair out, giving me a witchy look as I opened the door. Kids were surprised that someone in costume greeted them.  

Elmer sat up in our dark garage, which had small glass windows where he could look out at the kids who walked up our driveway to ring the doorbell and say "Trick or Treat." He'd rigged up a PA system and with his normally deep voice he'd say, "Fee Fie Fo Fum, I Smell The Blood of an Englishman." Parents standing at the bottom of the driveway, were giggling and encouraging their kids to go to the front door. I usually had to open the front door and coax them to come up the walkway corridor to get candy. He would usually add, "I'll grind his bones to make my bread." 

One little boy about 6, was hesitant so I finally walked halfway to him to give him candy. The boy walked back to mom and safety. Then Elmer said, "I'll get him next year." The little boy looked up at mom and said, "Let's don't come back here next year." I could hear Elmer smothering laughter.

The next year we had moved to Memphis, Tennessee. We joined the PTA and discovered the PTA had a fall festival in mid-October, as a fund raiser, for school. It was their version of a Halloween Carnival. The previous year they'd had very successful a spook house. 

Without thinking twice about it, Elmer and I signed up to be the chairpersons for this one. I won't detail what all we did, because this article is about "OUR" spook houses, but I will say, Elmer built a wooden coffin to use in the school event. It was shaped like the ones you'd see in all those old Western movies. You know, with the angles at the top end. He painted it flat black, and it was long enough for him to lay his 6 foot, two inch body down inside. As kids came inside the room they saw the coffin, as they got near, he'd raise up, sometimes laughing maniacally. Our school spook house was a huge success, at 25 cents a ticket many kids came through multiple time.

Two weeks later was October 31^st, "Halloween." Mr. Grape had already planned for it with that coffin. Again using the black Visqueen, he turned our carport into a spooky room. Of course we didn't charge kids anything. I was once again dressed witchy, in my long black dress. 

I had a little story, inviting kids inside, telling them of my friend who had been killed in a horrible accident. If they wanted, they could view his body and his parts if they would just come inside. 

I had a box with for them to put their hand down into with a bowl of cold wet spaghetti to feel like guts. Another box held a bowl with cold peeled grapes for eyeballs and brains. 

E. had added one new feature to his coffin, which was resting on a couple of sawhorses and draped with the black plastic, he cut an opening in the coffin side in order to stick his arm out and pretend to grab at a kid's arms or hand. He was also wearing a horrible rubber mask with a plastic eyeball hanging out. It had slits in order from him to see. As a kid got close he could raise up or grab, whichever seemed to work.

As the doorkeeper, I would have 2 or 3 kids come in at once. Usually, they were traveling in groups. Kids had so much fun, they went home and got their mom and dad to come see the spook house. No one in this neighborhood had ever done such a thing. 

One mom got so shook at the coffin watching another mom scream and jump, she said, "I think I just wet my pants." 

Elmer heard this and when he raised up, was laughing so hard he had trouble making a scary sound.

The next year we had to change it all up. We set up our living room with the coffin against the far wall. We had put a large cloth dummy inside.

We also had big moving blankets on the floor so when you walked in the floor felt squishy to walk on. Dim lights barely lit the room. A carved, evil Jack-O-Lantern had a battery electric candle inside. As kids rang the doorbell, yelling “Trick or Treat,” I opened the door, letting only 2 or 3 inside, they could see the coffin across the room but couldn’t see inside it.

Elmer never dressed up for Halloween
but one time his little sister made him
up for her grandson's birthday party,
the only pic I have of him in costume.

I’d tell my little story of my friend who had the terrible accident and had the "guts and eyeballs" for them to feel. Then I’d steer them to the coffin and while they're concentrating expecting Elmer, he’d come out of the coat closet by the front door, moaning like a ghost. Wearing his horrible mask, and a flashlight in his belt shinning up towards his face, he was scary.

Some of the parents came inside, then neighbor lady started screaming, "Damn you, Elmer Grape, I thought you were in that coffin."

That year was when mean people put razor blades or poison in candy treats and it became too dangerous for kids. Elmer and I both were angry and disappointed. The fun of Halloween was dead.

However, in the nineties after we moved back Austin we had a few kids walking their own neighborhood with parents. Our niece Dona and her family lived behind us. Her young daughter Tiffany and Tiff's best friend, Amber would walk around the block with their moms. Somewhere along the way, Uncle Elmer would jump out and scare them.

Along the whole way, they were expecting him but never knowing exactly when or where. The girls are now adults with nearly grown kids of their own but at Halloween they always tell the story of being scared by Uncle Elmer.]

So is it any wonder I write mysteries? Or that we owned a mystery bookstore for nine years? It's just a shame there are no photos or videos. People didn't have cell phones or digital cameras then and even if I'd thought of it, I was too busy telling the story and handing out treats.

What Are You Reading?

It's been the hottest driest summer in TX that I can remember in 75+ years.

How hot is it? I saw a robin blowing on his worm before eating. 

How hot is it? Hotter than a ten-dollar pistol at a Saturday night jewelry store. 

How hot is it? Hotter than a witch's... uh wait, that's a colder than reference.

Oh, I remember this year, and oh that year, and oh yeah, that other year. Yet I'm talking now about 47 straight days of 100 plus and they often were 103 to 108 or 110. Then we had one day of ONLY 99, but the next day and week, and the next week after that was 100 plus for every day again.

I had the lovely idea of doing my best to read for escape. To get so lost in a book I wouldn't even think about the relentless heat outside. 

For my big escape journey I began rereading books by Dana Stabenow. I say rereading because I'd read most all before. All are set somewhere in Alaska. Almost all set in ice and snow with below freezing temperatures. So far, in the last couple of months, I've read 18 or 19 of the Kate Shugat series and I think maybe five of the Liam Campbell books. Which I'm not sure read one of those before. Nice benefit of getting older is forgetting a book you have read before. In Alaska, even when it's summer there, they're talking about 80 degrees in the daytime and it cools down to sweater or light jacket weather for evening.

If I'm lucky it will cool down here around about Thanksgiving. 

Thanks Ms Stabenow. You've really saved my life. 

A couple of other books I read lately is Countdown, a thriller by Brendan DuBois, with James Patterson. It's the kind of book that keeps you quickly turning pages and forgetting hot and dry.

And recently reread, To Hell and Gone in Texas by Russ Hall, a local Austin writer, I've known for years. This book came out in 2014 and is just re-released for all y'all who love reading about bullets and blood and brothers with several twists you never expect. 

All in all books have helped me make it through these hot days that only cool to around 75 at 3:00am.

So what are y'all reading and why?

Tired of Gun BS

I saw this piece on FB and it really struck a chord with me. Because we still have not passed even the simplest gun restrictions:

A-restrict ownership of AK-47, assault style, bumpstock, high-velocity rifles meant for warfare.

B-background checks for felonies or assaults with a weapon.

C-30 day delay in granting permits.

D-passing a gun safety class.

E-must be 21 before any gun purchase.

F-Gun shows & online sales follow same restrictions as gun shops.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY

Our children & young people are being slaughtered. No other way to say it.

- Jan Grape

TIRED OF GUN BS

by Leonidas Christian Mixon (used with permission)

We have a gun problem and a bullshit problem in the United States. Let me start by saying I am a gun owner. I have been since I was 6. I’ve had jobs that required me to carry a weapon. I’ve been shot at more than once. I’ve disarmed people who were trying to kill me. This isn’t coming from someone who doesn’t understand guns. It’s precisely because I do understand them that I’m going to call out the bullshit that stops us from having the reforms to gun laws that we needed years ago. If you want to debate any of the points below, I have no problem. These are simple facts.

1) I need an assault rifle for home defense. No, you don’t. A short barreled shotgun is the best tool for home defense. And that only counts if you’re insanely proficient with it and you get incredibly lucky. The likelihood you will get the chance to use it is next to zero. If you do, you’re very likely to kill a member of your family accidentally. In a REAL altercation, you don’t get to choose your field of fire. It happens incredibly fast, usually in the dark. If you’re popping off with a rifle, you are going to hit things you don’t intend to. Guns are tools. Period. Assault Rifles are intended to be used on a battlefield. Battlefield tactics don’t work in your house. It’s a bullshit argument.

2) I need to protect myself from a tyrannical Government... Holy Shit that’s stupid. That idea was from a time when the state of war was much more level. It isn’t now. At all. If an armored transport shows up on your front lawn with a 50 cal on the roof, you and your AK are fucking toast. Soldiers train, and their weapons are an extension of their body. You will instantly lose. And before you bring up guerrilla fighters in Afghanistan or Iraq... you need a reality check. Those people were born in a country that was at war, on their soil, for their entire lives. You don’t compare to that on your best day. And they die in FAR greater numbers than they kill.

3) Gun registration, background checks, etc are a slippery slope to confiscation. Bullshit. We register cars. We have to prove proficiency to operate them. We are required to have insurance in the event we cause damage with them. It’s been that way for decades, and no one is “coming to take your car”. Making sure people have the barest minimum of responsibility doesn’t lead to loss. Fear of loss leads to fundraising and bullshit. It’s not rational.

4) My gun is a right that can’t be modified. Again, utter bullshit. You can’t own a howitzer unless the barrel is full of concrete. You can’t own a cannon manufactured in the last century. You can’t own a fully automatic weapon without a FFL. That’s why those things are rarely used in crimes. And all of that is based on an amendment to our constitution that can be changed if we as a country see fit to do so. We have changed amendments before and we will again. If you don’t understand that you need a history lesson and a dictionary.

Creating common sense laws that put speed bumps in the way of lunatics helps. Every time. Automobile licenses, speed limits, etc don’t end accidents, but they make them less frequent and less deadly. It’s a proven concept. The time for bullshit excuses is over. It’s time to step up and take responsibility. Fuck this stupidity.

Off With Their Heads

Sounds really gruesome, huh? And I'm not a horror writer, but dang I have killed any number of  character. I'd hate like the devil to reread my books and short stories and do a body count.

We often dispatch a bad guy or two towards the end of a story. Give them their just desserts, so to speak.

But what about the opening? You can kill a character in the beginning, sometimes because it's a rather hateful person that needs to die. Then as a writer you can come up with several suspects in order to unravel the case.

Sometimes, to make it harder for your professional or your amateur sleuth to solve the murder, you knock off a character in an unusual way. Like perhaps nicotine poisoning. Gives a nice plot twist to your howdunnit.

How about the feeling of power you can get? Killing a character you've created.

Here's something my award winning mystery writer pal, Rick Helms wrote recently about killing.

I just spent fourteen pages building a fleshed-out, sympathetic, likable character.

Then I fridged that SOB and sacrificed him on the Altar of Plot, because I can.

Writers are like minor deities. We manifest whole worlds --nay, entire universes-- inside our heads and rule over them both lovingly and capriciously as it suits us. Then when suitably irritated, we smite thousands with guiltless abandon, but we also have the power to say, today, nobody in our world dies and everyone gets laid. We thrust perfect strangers together to become tortured lovers, and then, just for shits and giggles, we separate them for years. Sometimes, our own creations bring us to tears, even on the twentieth reading, despite our omniscient knowledge that they would do so, because that is exactly what we crafted them to do.

Writers are the creators and destroyers of worlds.

It's a pretty fucking awesome way to kill an afternoon.

Perhaps we destroy a character or scene or even a chapter. Many years ago, another award winning mystery writer pal, Max Allen Collins spoke at a con and if memory serves, he even wrote a book, titled: Kill Your Darlings.

The premise was sometimes you write a character or a scene, then upon rereading it, you know it doesn't work. It doesn't ring true.  Doesn't move the story along. And although you love, love, love the character. You just highlight that paragraph or scene and click "delete." Or if you just can't stand to kill the whole scene, copy, print it and put it in a "kill your darling" folder.

So tell me have you  chopped any heads off this week? Did you kill a darling? Or was it some despicable character who just needed killing?

 Or do you kill because you just love that feeling of power? Of playing God in a world you've created?

 Just confess and most likely I'll pardon you.

True Crime Confessions

Note: Jan is anything but a mystery guest but we had a little trouble setting up this column so her name doesn't appear in the usual spot.  Our apologies.  — Robert Lopresti 

 

TRUE CRIME CONFESSIONS

by Jan Grape

 As a crime writer have you ever committed a crime? You don't have to admit to any of these  minor...surely misdemeanor things.

Stealing as a kid? Candy, gum, baseball card? Lipstick. Prizes from a Cracker Jacks box. Yes, kids, there used to be prizes. Even money, up to a quarter, I think. I don't remember ever getting more than a nickel and maybe only two of those. I never pryed open a box but I shook at least fifty or so. Trying to guess if any box rattled like a quarter. 

As a teen-ager did you ever steal a car? Tires, money? Ever get caught? I didn't really steal a deputy's car, one evening about twilight time, but he left it running with the keys in it. I think I drove it around the courthouse square. Around the block in case you've never seen a small county courthouse square. What was I doing at the courthouse on an early spring evening? I have no memory of that.

As an adult? Have you ever swiped ashtrays, towels, blankets, pillows or one of those soft, fluffy robes  from a hotel? Or silverware? Or shot glasses from a bar or restaurant?

Have you done any crimes more serious?? Like maybe a DUI? You don't have to answer that either.

Did you ever write about or fictionalize your experience as a Juvenile? Or committing a felony? 

I know most if us have never committed a serious crime but we write about it often. Especially murder. Was it a joke that the heroine of Murder She Wrote was really a murderer because she always stumbled over a body?

If you've never done a crime then how do you research so confidently to write about a kidnapping, a bank heist, or a car bombing?  Do you talk to Police officers? FBI or CIA agents?

This looks huge and it's not.
See next photo for reference.

I once called the Security Chief at Dallas/Fort Worth Airport to ask if an idea I had for a story  was feasible. After I explained that I was a mystery writer he listened to my idea. 

Which was: Could a person flying from Los Angeles, eat dinner and slip the metal knife in the chair back pocket and the hostess who picked up trays didn't notice the missing knife. The bad guy retrieves the knife, goes to lavatory & sharpens the knife point and puts it in his pocket. The plane lands at Dallas/Fort Worth airport for say 30 minutes, half the passengers including our bad guy, stay on as it's a continuing flight to Miami. The passengers who stay onboard are not rescreened and it takes off again. So before the plane gets to Miami, the bad guy stabs another guy to death in the lavatory. The Security guy told me it was feasible but not very likely.

But I had already slipped a steel plated knife into my purse on such a flight. I got away with it. I think I wrote a story like that which was published but I don't remember what anthology where it was published. Have no memory of which one. I'm fairly sure the statue of limitations on both of my crimes have run out. I'll plead not-guilty if ever questioned. 

 Airline knife next to
kitchen knife & scissors.

This was back when security was fairly lax & you got meals on long flights and nice metal forks & knives.

If I'm not mistaken I heard recently some guy used a plastic knife which he'd broken & made a shiv which he used to stab a flight attendant. Hope he didn't read my story 40 years ago to get the idea.

The Austin police dept used to have a Citizen's Police Academy program and as a student you attended a 4 hour class one night a week for 10 weeks. Ours were held at the actual police academy location.  I took the training in 1991. Each week a department head would give an hour talk on their department . The training began for citizens interested in becoming a neighborhood watch captain. But I applied as a mystery writer wanting to be as accurate as possible when writing about police work and I was accepted. Programs covered: White Collar Crime, Robbery/Homocide, Burglary, Firearms, Drugs Victim Services.  Firearms Specialist gave a demo of different weapons & Canine dogs went through their routines, both outside. Fingerprinting got us on a school bus & driven downtown to APD headquarters where we were printed and shown  how they read and reported on fingerprints. We were photographed  and saw how ballistics were done. And shown insider views departments at HQ, including homicide & the Top Floor bosses offices. 

Our two final classes were special.  For one each person was shown a scenario on a big screen, where you had to pretend you were an officer who'd received a call out to a crime scene. You also held a computerized gun which you pointed at the screen, not knowing what you might find. You were then to decide if the scene was a "shoot or don't shoot" situation. You had only 3 seconds or so to decide. Mine was a "shoot" at first, but by the time I pulled the trigger I shot the bad guy in the butt, because he stopped pistol whipping a guy,  then turned and was running away, which then made it, a "don't shoot" situation. It had became a pursue, catch and arrest. It had changed before I could see, understand, then decide, to shoot or not. You just how slim the time margin can be as the deciding factor for an officer.

We had a real graduation ceremony with invited guest & the APD Chief gave us diplomas (certificate) and could join the Alumni Association , which I did.

The other final item was to go in a ride-along in patrol car with an officer for a full 8 hour shift if you wanted to and I wanted to. You could chose a busy or  reasonably quieter sector of town which I did. I was paired with a gruff sounding but very nice officer. We only had two or three potentially dangerous calls. Only one was scary but turned nothing happened he had had me stay in the car.

 

I enjoyed the whole program. My late husband, Elmer Grape attended CPA and graduated in 1992 and it ran for several more years that I'm aware of, just not sure if APD does the program anymore. I do know you can no longer go on patrol car ride alongs because of insurance, privacy and such nowadays. Next time I'll clue you in on my exciting days & nights as an APD alumni member and getting to be a bad guy. 

In view of mother's day and to honor my mother, aka PeeWee Pierce, I must mention, my adventure at the corner grocery store when I was about 8 years old. We lived about one block from the corner, think maybe 4 houses in the same sjde of the street. I was given a dollar and also permission to walk to store and buy a candy bar. But I could only buy that one chocolate bar and bring home all my change. Mom emphasized only that one candy bar. But while there & looking at all the goodies I decided I absolutely had to have a package of dentyne gum. Naturally I finally slipped the gum in my pocket. Naturally Mom knew by the way I was acting that I'd done something. And am sure she could see the bulge in my pocket. I didn't get a spanking but I got a "talking to" which was worse than a spanking any day. Then I had to walk back to the store and tell Mr Parish what I had done, return the gum and tell him that I was sorry and that I'd never steal from him again. Boy, did that ever hurt my soul. 

Thank you, Mom for keeping from a life of crime. However, she was always proud of my fictitious lies. She read  enjoyed several of my published short stories and thrilled when I won an Anthony Award in 1998. She passed away only 4 days later and my first book wasn't published until 2000. She had read the almost final draft.  I love and miss you, Mom.

Never Too Old

My birthday is February 28th, the end of our shortest month. I was born way back in the 1900s. I don't intend to tell you the exact year but it was after the Great Depression. What I will tell you is after having published over thirty-five short stories, three novels, co-editing two anthologies and co-editing two non-fiction books. After nominations for several mystery awards and winning a couple, I now have a new publishing credit. I've co-authored a song. 

 

My good friend, john Arthur martinez, singer/ songwriter/ guitar player/ musician/ producer and I wrote and published a song titled "The Phone Call." 

 

It's now out on his fifteenth CD, titled Three White Spanish Horses, yes 15th. This on the heels of number 14, For The Love of Western Swing which was awarded Western Swing Song of the Year in 2020, by The Academy of Western Artists. He also performs the song and if I'm in attendance at his gig,  gives me recognition as his co- writer. Which is nice.

I first became aware of john Arthur (and yes, he usually doesn't capitalize his first or last name) in 2003 when he was a contestant on Nashville Star, an American Idol-styled country artist television show, set in, you guessed correctly, Nashville TN. My husband, Elmer and I visited our daughter and family in Nashville and Karla asked if we had watched this television show. I said, "no." So happened it was playing and she turned on the TV while telling us about this young man from the Texas Hill Country. Actually, he'd said he was from Marble Falls. We were living in our RV and camphosting at a State Park twenty miles away. After we got back home, we continued watching the show and voted each week for john. He came in 2nd on the show, beating out 3rd place, who was a 19-year old Texas girl named Miranda Lambert. You may have heard of her because she is the one who became and still is really FAMOUS.

Flash forward to 2007, I was newly-widowed, had gone thru a mastectomy, 4 months of chemo, to insure against re-occurance, which worked because I am still cancer free after 17 years. I was still in my RV but was 10 miles closer to Marble Falls. A mystery writer friend, Russ Hall who  Elmer & I knew from our bookstore days,  knew of my Elmer's passing, knew of my cancer & chemo. He also knew I had recently fallen smashing my right humerus, which needed surgery, and that I was looking for ways to keep busy. 

 

Russ had encouraged me for a couple of months to go a local restaurant, he often attended, which featured local singer/songwriters. One, john Arthur, from the aforementioned television show, was gigging on Thursday nights, and the other Mike Blakely, also a western/historicalnovelist, sang on Tuesday nights. I had met Mike  several years before when he and I were on a writer's panel one night at Austin Community College.  We both had been invited, along three other writers of different genres to talk to a creative writing class. Plus when Elmer and I owned Mysteries & More bookstore in Austin, we had carried some of Mike's books.

I began attending both music nights at River City Grille and over time became fairly good friends with both Mike and john Arthur.  They each had previously been offered a record contract in Nashville but each had decided on their own to go the outlaw way of previous Texas outlaw singers, like Merle, Waylon and Willie. That meant some leaner times but they are free to write, sing and record their own work at their own pace. They were friends who wrote songs together and harmonized on each other's CDs. 

In 2011, I moved into a house in Cottonwood Shores and realized JAM lived five streets over and almost directly behind my house. I banked where one of  john's sisters is Vice-President, and where his mom also works. His wife, Yvonna, is my hair stylist. She  is one of my BFFs and the Martinezs are my Hill Country family.

For several years, JAM & I have talked about writing songs together, but it seemed as though the time was never right. He gigs in Central Texas locations, several afternoons or evenings each week, sometimes traveling to Fort Worth, Waco, or Austin. He also sings in New England, Florida, Montana, California or Arizona each year. Once a year he toured France, Germany, Austria & Switzerland until Covid shut down travel. European tours in 2020, 2021 & 2022 were cancelled. During that time, he upgraded his home studio becoming a producer for several central Texas artists. It also gave him more time for writing songs so we got serious about writing together. 

One song idea I had was about a person you loved who could sense your mood or thoughts. Sort of like a mindmeld.  JAM's creative brain sent him to remember a long ago friend who kept him on the phone one long night when he needed reassurance about his music. We chatted or texted & he wrote the music, then we had to rearrange or change some words to fit the rhythm or to make the words rhyme. 

"The Phone Call" is that song and just out on john's latest CD, titled Three White Spanish Horses  available now on his website; johnArthurmartinez.net.  Or you can buy the song for 99 cents here.

Our Spook House

© Design Bolts

Elmer Grape, my late husband, loved Halloween as much as Christmas, maybe even a little more. He always said kids liked to be scared. Nothing to hurt them, just something fun scary. And I guess he was right. Every time he jumped out at one of the kids or at me, we laughed. So when Halloween rolled around, he was like a little kid himself. Every October 31^st, I think of our Spook House in the mid-1970s.

Our house in Houston had a sidewalk leading from the driveway to the front door located under an overhang porch, a little wider than the walkway. He worked commercial construction and had access to rolls of black plastic, Visqueen. Like garbage bags but thicker and blacker. He hung the plastic from the overhang making a dark corridor to our front door where an evil looking Jack-O-Lantern sat. Kids would have to walk the ten feet to the front door, ring the doorbell. I dressed in a long black dress and ratted my dark hair out, giving me a witchy look.

Elmer sat in our dark garage, which had small windows where he could look out at the kids who walked up our driveway to ring the doorbell and say "Trick or Treat." He rigged up a PA system and with his normally deep voice he'd say, "Fee Fie Fo Fum, I Smell The Blood of an Englishman." Parents standing at the bottom of the driveway, were giggling and encouraging their kids to go to the front door. I usually had to open the front door and coax them to come up the walkway corridor to get candy. E would usually add, "I'll grind his bones to make my bread." One little boy about 6, was hesitant so I finally walked halfway to him to give him candy. Then Elmer said, "I'll get him next year." The little boy looked at his mom and said, "Let's don't come back here next year."

The next year we had moved to Memphis, Tennessee. In August before school stated our son Phil, who had been playing Little League football in Houston, still wanted to play and I thought this would be a good way for us to get acquainted with kids and parents. We signed Phil up. We discovered the PTA had a fall festival in mid-October, as a fund raiser, their version of a Halloween Carnival. The previous year they'd had very successful a spook house. Without thinking twice about it, Elmer and I signed up to be the chairpersons for that. I won't detail what all we did, because this is about "OUR" spook houses, but I will say, Elmer built a wooden coffin to use in the school event. It was shaped like the ones you'd see in all those old Western movies. You know, with the angles at the top end. He painted it flat black, and it was long enough for him to lay his 6 foot, two inch body down inside. As kids came inside the room they saw the coffin, as they got near, he'd raise up, sometimes laughing maniacally. Our spook house was a huge success, many kids coming through several times.

Two weeks later was October 31^st. "Halloween." Mr. Grape had already planned for it with that coffin. Again using the black Visqueen, he turned our carport into a spooky room and we didn't charge them anything. I once again dressed witchy, in my long black dress. I had my little story, inviting kids inside, telling them of my friend who had been killed in a horrible accident. If they wanted, they could view his body and his parts if they would just come inside.

I had a box with cold spaghetti for them to put their hand down in to feel. Another box & bowl with some peeled grapes for eyeballs. E had added one new feature to his coffin, which was resting on a couple of sawhorses and draped with the black plastic, he cut an opening in the coffin side in order to stick his arm out and pretend to grab at a kid's arms or hand. He was also wearing a horrible rubber mask with a plastic eyeball hanging out. It had slits in order from him to see. As a kid got close he could raise up or grab, whichever seemed to work.

As the doorkeeper, I would have 2 or 3 kids come in at once. Usually, they were traveling in groups. Kids had so much fun, they went home and got their mom and dad to come see the spook house. No one in this neighborhood had ever done such a thing. One mom got so shook at the coffin watching another mom scream jump, she said, "I think I just wet my pants." Elmer heard this and when he raised up, was laughing so hard he had trouble making a scary sound.

The next year we had to change it up. We set up our living room with the coffin against the far wall. We had a large cloth dummy we put inside. We had some big moving blankets on the floor so when you walked in floor felt funny to walk on. Dim lights in the room. The evil Jack-O-Lantern set up with electric candle inside. I told my little story of my friend who had the accident and had the "guts and eyeballs" for them to feel. And steered them towards the coffin and while they're concentrating there, E came out of the coat closet by the front door with his horrible mask, a flashlight in his belt shinning up towards his face, making a moaning noise.

Some of the parents came inside, one mom started screaming, "Damn you, Elmer Grape, I thought you were in that coffin."

Kids mostly stopped Trick or Treating soon after. Mean people put razor blades or poison in candy and it became too dangerous. However, in the nineties after we moved back to Texas, we lived in Austin where a few kids would walk their own neighborhood with parents. Our great niece, Tiffany, lived behind us. She and her best friend, Amber would walk around the block. Somewhere along the way, Uncle Elmer would jump out and scare them. So along the whole way they were expecting him but never knowing exactly when. The girls are now adults with nearly grown kids of their own but at Halloween they always tell the story of being scared and how much fun it always was.

So is it any wonder that I started writing murder mysteries? Or that we owned a mystery bookstore in Austin for nine years? It's just a shame there are no photos or videos. People didn't have cell phones or digital cameras then and even if I'd thought of it, I was too busy telling the story and handing out treats.

Working With James Patterson

APOLOGIES: This is Robert Lopresti apologizing for the fact that my name appears at the top.  It should be Jan Grape, but I had a problem setting up the entry and had to create a new file, which thinks I am responsible.  Can't change it.  My apologies to Jan.  Now, here she is...

I was a little shocked to learn my time for SleuthSayers was to be twice, for this the "witching month." Fortunately, my magical powers were already working. I had just finished listening to an awesome thriller, BLOWBACK written by my long-time pal, Brendan DuBois and his co-author, James Patterson. Maybe Bren would have time to write an article for one of my turns. I actually had asked if he might be interested a few days before Rob sent out the October calendar. Brendan readily agreed even though the topic I chose was the inane, "What is it like working with Mr. Patterson?"

I had known Brendan years before he became famous: as a JEOPARDY champion and meeting the late incomparable Alex Trebeck. Neither of us are exactly sure when we met, except we both remember partaking in never-ending MWA board member meetings as neophyte Vice-Presidents of our regional chapters and attending numerous Anthony banquets. However, most of our fondest memories are attending PWA dinners. Our most recent meeting was sharing a memorable cab ride in 2018, helping our driver locate an East Dallas restaurant where the PWA banquet was being held. Brendan also kindly helped me enter the SUV taxi the morning I was leaving. I had fallen in my room in the wee morning hours and cracked four posterior ribs. That's the definition of friend who becomes and stays a keeper.

Since I was scheduled for two times this month, 10/3 and 10/31, I gave him a choice.  My pal chose the third and here it is.

-Jan Grape


WORKING WITH JAMES PATTERSON
by Brendan DuBois

 What's it like to work with James Patterson?

     That’s a question I frequently get at conventions, book signings, and at diners, minding my own business over a cup of coffee.
    What’s it like to work with James Patterson, one of the most famous and bestselling authors in the world?
    It’s like walking on a tightrope.
    With no balancing pole.
    And with molten lava beneath you.
    Hah-hah-hah.
    No, just kidding.
    Working with James Patterson has been a wonderful experience, from A to Z, with no complaints whatsoever.
    My first short story was published in 1986, and my first novel in 1994.  When 2016 rolled around, my writing career had had its share of ups and downs --- more downs than ups --- and I was relatively at ease with my lot, that of a mid-list author struggling from one book and one publisher to another.
    Then came that proverbial phone call that changes one’s life.
    A call came in from a friend of mine in the mystery publishing field, who told me that James Patterson was starting a new publishing line, called BookShots, which were to be co-authored tales no longer than 40,000 words.
    James was looking for writers who could write fast, write well, and meet deadlines.
    I auditioned with James’ business partner, and soon found myself writing three BookShots, a fun and quick experience.  When it came time for the fourth BookShots, I developed an outline from James and submitted it as before.  
When the outline was finished, James called me up --- for the first time ever, since my only earlier correspondence was with him via an editor --- and basically said, ‘This outline could be used for a full-length novel.  Would you be interested in doing a novel with me?  I’ll give you a few days to think about it.’

“I said, ‘No, I’m good, I’d be thrilled to work on a novel with you.’  That became our first work, The First Lady, and later, we worked on another novel called The Cornwalls Are Gone, which was followed by The Summer House and this past September, Blowback.   This January, the sequel to The Cornwalls Are Gone --- Countdown --- is coming out.
    But then I get the other question…       
What’s it really, really, like to work with James Patterson?
    A lot of work.
    I mean, a lot of work, but also a lot of fun.  
    We start with the initial idea, and spend about a month or so working out a detailed outline which can run up to 40 pages, and then we get to the real work.  
    It’s an intensively collaborative process where I learned a lot from the beginning, and continue to learn to this day, with phone calls, pages sent back and forth,     As an example, with The First Lady, when I sent him the first draft of the early chapters, he called me and said, “The first three chapters are well-written, but I think they’d work better if you condensed them down to one.”
    At first I was a bit jarred --- was I failing already? --- but when I looked at them with a clear and cold eye, he was right.
    The first three chapters were condensed into one, and we were off to the races!    
    Over the years I’ve learned a lot from James, including his wicked sense of humor, his generosity, and his devotion to charitable causes.
    As a writer, I’ve learned more in the past six years than the previous sixteen.  How to cut to the chase.  Quickly set scenes.  Make each page and piece of dialogue to work.    
    A while ago I re-read a thriller I had written a few years earlier and…
    Oh my God, what a bloated piece of work!
    So I went through and cut about 30,000 words, making it a much better book.
    What’s it like to work with James Patterson?
    Every morning I pinch myself, considering how fortunate I am.
    How’s that for an answer?

Brendan DuBois is the award-winning New York Times bestselling author of twenty-six novels, including THE FIRST LADY and THE CORNWALLS ARE GONE (March 2019), co-authored with James Patterson, THE SUMMER HOUSE (June 2020), and BLOWBACK, which was just published in September.  He has also published 200 short stories.

His stories have won three Shamus Awards from the Private Eye Writers of America, two Barry Awards, two Derringer Awards, and the Ellery Queen Readers Award.
In 2021 he received the Edward D. Hoch Memorial Golden Derringer for Lifetime Achievement from the Short Mystery Fiction Society.

He is also a JEOPARDY! game show champion.