by Robert Lopresti
You may read mysteries for the plot, but if you RE-read them it is for something else, like language or characters. Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe novels had wonderful language, but I don't know any mystery series with a larger assortment of reappearing characters than Stout's. Watching them show up is like meeting old friends -- or enemies.
So, in honor of the Wolfe Pack's annual Black Orchid Banquet, which will be held this Saturday in New York, and celebrates the Rex Stout corpus...
Meet Nero Wolfe. Say how do you do.
He's gonna introduce you to the whole darn crew.
There's Cramer and Cather, Parker and Panzer,
Bonner and Brenner, and big Bill Gore,
Archie and Johnny, Purley and Mimi,
Sally and Bascom and Theodore.
Doctor Vollmer and Lily Rowan,
Fred and Felix and old Lon Cohen,
Tim Evarts the Churchill dick
Hitchcock in London, and Marko Vukcic,
Up in Westchester you'll find Ben Dykes,
And Lieutenant Con Noonan, whom nobody likes,
There's Hombert, Skinner, and Arnold Zeck,
And even old Rowcliffe, what the heck.
And Mandlebaum.
28 November 2012
Meet Nero Wolfe
27 November 2012
The Next Big Thing– Dean Version
by David Dean
As John Floyd has so ably explained in his post of the 24th, "The Next Big Thing" is a sort of promotional tag game being played by writers across the country, perhaps the world for all I know. I guess it can be described as a "grass roots" publicity gambit to which you, dear reader, are now being subjected. I didn't want to do this to you, but the alternative was breaking the "chain", and I'm sure you all have some idea what can happen when you do that. You know the urban legends, it's not pretty according to the films– the best you can hope for is to just painlessly disappear; the worst… well, it doesn't bear thinking about.
However, in order to make a clean getaway I've had to snare others into the scheme. Again, I didn't want to, but what choice did I have– to be the last in the chain? No, thank you. So I lured the redoubtable and deeply talented, Janice Law, as well as the rising literary star, Tara Laskowski, into my web, where they are now stuck fast, desperately trying to line up someone, anyone, to "tag" and be next in the chain. Sorry, ladies, but surely you can understand the predicament I found myself in. Blame Barb Goffman if you must; she snared me! In order to take the sting out I've included links to all of these writing dynamos at the conclusion of my own shameless self-promotion. Please do go to their sites on the appointed days and read their thoughts on their work. It will, undoubtedly, be both entertaining and illuminating, as I hope the following on my own is.
First, let me set the scene. Picture, if you will, a room full of clamoring reporters, and perhaps a scattering of ardent, young literature students, all attempting to gain my attention and ask the following, burning questions:
What is the working title of your new book, Mr. Dean? "Oh please, just call me David, we're all friends here (there's relieved chuckling; they didn't expect me to be so personable, so accessible). Well, the working title has come and gone, I'm afraid, as the book, "The Thirteenth Child" was released over a month ago. The publisher and I are expecting a sale any day now. The original title was more of a short story– "A Child Twixt Dusk And Dawning", it was called. My editor questioned the pithiness of my choice and suggested (strongly) I go with his recommendation, which I did in the end. We are no longer speaking, however."
Where did the idea for the book come from? "That's an excellent question, young lady, and one which I am anxious to answer. I was thinking of old legends, and ghost stories, concerning travelers meeting spirits and demons at lonely crossroads, then disappearing, dying, or having misfortune follow them from that moment on. These tales appear in a number of cultures (European, African,etc...), and sometimes concern the taking of children by these same fairies, trolls, or other supernatural beings. So, I took it one step further, I thought, what if this creature that waits on lonely paths was not supernatural at all, but very real, and no longer haunting forest and fields, but suburban streets and yards; forced out of its comfort zone by the steady encroachment of civilization? That was the beginning."
What genre does your book fall under? "Unquestionably horror, though it has an underpinning of police procedural and even a touch of romance."
What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? "I'll leave that to the experts, like Mr. Spielberg. He's done wonderfully well at that sort of thing. Undoubtedly, when hell freezes over and he decides to do a film version of my book, he'll make the right choices in casting."
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? (I chuckle tolerantly at this) "Obviously, my boy, you have not read my book. A book, such as mine, containing the depth of character and breadth of thought that it does, cannot be contained in a single sentence. However, since you've asked, I'll do my best to reduce it down so that everyone can understand it: When children begin to go missing from Wessex Township, disgraced professor, and now town drunk, Preston Howard, encounters something he wishes he hadn't, and soon faces a terrible decision--save the children...or his only daughter. How's that?"
Is your book self-published, or represented by an agency? "Neither, old man. I've somehow managed to get my book published by Genius Book Publishing of Encino, California without representation or payment of a fee."
How long did it take to write the first draft of your manuscript? "It took about six months for the first draft...and probably another three months in rewrites and edits, followed by several years of anxiety."
What other books would you compare this to in your genre? "Phantoms by Dean Koontz, Dracula by Bram Stoker, and the short story, Gabriel Earnest by H.H. Munro. How's that for reaching for the stars?"
Who or what inspired you to write this book? "I haven't usually written horror, but the idea behind "The Thirteenth Child" struck me as so original that I felt compelled to give it a go."
What else about your book might pique the reader's interest? "It contains a good deal of history and myth from southern New Jersey, including some Native American lore from the Lenape peoples of the region."
"Well, that's all the time I have now. I appreciate you press guys and gals turning out like you did; especially when you could have been covering something actually newsworthy." (This gets a big laugh, and a lot of shaking of heads– they had no idea how humble I am.) "Thanks so much for your time. But, before you go, I just want to throw a little something your way… in fact, I'm gonna give you guys the inside track on the next big thing times three!" (The scramble for the door ceases and a sudden quiet descends on the room, the pens and pads come back out in the expectant silence.) "Jot this down, boys and girls, and follow it up--you won't be sorry, let me tell ya; cause the three gals at the end of these links are hot and gettin' hotter in the writing field! Let me make the introductions:
"First there's my sponsor, Barb Goffman, who writes about her newest story, "Murder a la Mode" on the Women of Mystery blog.
"Next up is Janice Law, whose book, "The Fires Of London" is already garnering some rave reviews and a growing public. Read about the workings of her formidable talent on Dec. 3rd.
"And last, but never least, and brimming with originality, is Tara Laskowski, who will post about her newest collection of short stories, "Modern Manners For Your Inner Demons" on Dec. 5th. Don't you love that title? Well, read her post and, amongst other things, you'll find out how it got conjured up.
"Well that's the scoop– follow my lead on these stories you mugs, and maybe a few of you will be pulling down some Pulitzers. No… no… no more questions, I'm bushed. Besides, I've got to get to work. These books don't just write themselves you know!" (Big laugh on this one– who woulda thought the ol' man had such a great sense of humor?)
However, in order to make a clean getaway I've had to snare others into the scheme. Again, I didn't want to, but what choice did I have– to be the last in the chain? No, thank you. So I lured the redoubtable and deeply talented, Janice Law, as well as the rising literary star, Tara Laskowski, into my web, where they are now stuck fast, desperately trying to line up someone, anyone, to "tag" and be next in the chain. Sorry, ladies, but surely you can understand the predicament I found myself in. Blame Barb Goffman if you must; she snared me! In order to take the sting out I've included links to all of these writing dynamos at the conclusion of my own shameless self-promotion. Please do go to their sites on the appointed days and read their thoughts on their work. It will, undoubtedly, be both entertaining and illuminating, as I hope the following on my own is.
First, let me set the scene. Picture, if you will, a room full of clamoring reporters, and perhaps a scattering of ardent, young literature students, all attempting to gain my attention and ask the following, burning questions:
What is the working title of your new book, Mr. Dean? "Oh please, just call me David, we're all friends here (there's relieved chuckling; they didn't expect me to be so personable, so accessible). Well, the working title has come and gone, I'm afraid, as the book, "The Thirteenth Child" was released over a month ago. The publisher and I are expecting a sale any day now. The original title was more of a short story– "A Child Twixt Dusk And Dawning", it was called. My editor questioned the pithiness of my choice and suggested (strongly) I go with his recommendation, which I did in the end. We are no longer speaking, however."
Where did the idea for the book come from? "That's an excellent question, young lady, and one which I am anxious to answer. I was thinking of old legends, and ghost stories, concerning travelers meeting spirits and demons at lonely crossroads, then disappearing, dying, or having misfortune follow them from that moment on. These tales appear in a number of cultures (European, African,etc...), and sometimes concern the taking of children by these same fairies, trolls, or other supernatural beings. So, I took it one step further, I thought, what if this creature that waits on lonely paths was not supernatural at all, but very real, and no longer haunting forest and fields, but suburban streets and yards; forced out of its comfort zone by the steady encroachment of civilization? That was the beginning."
What genre does your book fall under? "Unquestionably horror, though it has an underpinning of police procedural and even a touch of romance."
What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? "I'll leave that to the experts, like Mr. Spielberg. He's done wonderfully well at that sort of thing. Undoubtedly, when hell freezes over and he decides to do a film version of my book, he'll make the right choices in casting."
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? (I chuckle tolerantly at this) "Obviously, my boy, you have not read my book. A book, such as mine, containing the depth of character and breadth of thought that it does, cannot be contained in a single sentence. However, since you've asked, I'll do my best to reduce it down so that everyone can understand it: When children begin to go missing from Wessex Township, disgraced professor, and now town drunk, Preston Howard, encounters something he wishes he hadn't, and soon faces a terrible decision--save the children...or his only daughter. How's that?"
Is your book self-published, or represented by an agency? "Neither, old man. I've somehow managed to get my book published by Genius Book Publishing of Encino, California without representation or payment of a fee."
How long did it take to write the first draft of your manuscript? "It took about six months for the first draft...and probably another three months in rewrites and edits, followed by several years of anxiety."
What other books would you compare this to in your genre? "Phantoms by Dean Koontz, Dracula by Bram Stoker, and the short story, Gabriel Earnest by H.H. Munro. How's that for reaching for the stars?"
Who or what inspired you to write this book? "I haven't usually written horror, but the idea behind "The Thirteenth Child" struck me as so original that I felt compelled to give it a go."
What else about your book might pique the reader's interest? "It contains a good deal of history and myth from southern New Jersey, including some Native American lore from the Lenape peoples of the region."
"Well, that's all the time I have now. I appreciate you press guys and gals turning out like you did; especially when you could have been covering something actually newsworthy." (This gets a big laugh, and a lot of shaking of heads– they had no idea how humble I am.) "Thanks so much for your time. But, before you go, I just want to throw a little something your way… in fact, I'm gonna give you guys the inside track on the next big thing times three!" (The scramble for the door ceases and a sudden quiet descends on the room, the pens and pads come back out in the expectant silence.) "Jot this down, boys and girls, and follow it up--you won't be sorry, let me tell ya; cause the three gals at the end of these links are hot and gettin' hotter in the writing field! Let me make the introductions:
"First there's my sponsor, Barb Goffman, who writes about her newest story, "Murder a la Mode" on the Women of Mystery blog.
"Next up is Janice Law, whose book, "The Fires Of London" is already garnering some rave reviews and a growing public. Read about the workings of her formidable talent on Dec. 3rd.
"And last, but never least, and brimming with originality, is Tara Laskowski, who will post about her newest collection of short stories, "Modern Manners For Your Inner Demons" on Dec. 5th. Don't you love that title? Well, read her post and, amongst other things, you'll find out how it got conjured up.
"Well that's the scoop– follow my lead on these stories you mugs, and maybe a few of you will be pulling down some Pulitzers. No… no… no more questions, I'm bushed. Besides, I've got to get to work. These books don't just write themselves you know!" (Big laugh on this one– who woulda thought the ol' man had such a great sense of humor?)
Labels:
Barb Goffman,
BSP,
David Dean,
horror,
Janice Law,
legend,
mystery,
promotion,
Tara Laskowski
Location:
Avalon, NJ 08202, USA
26 November 2012
Write Your Name Right Here
by Fran Rizer
Shannon as Callie, Fran as Fran, Barbie as Jane |
Since that first one in 2007, I've enjoyed signings in lots of places. They were all fun and they all gave me the opportunity to visit with some wonderful people. Today I want to share just a few of those events.
The Callielac |
My first book was written after I retired from teaching. At a signing at The Happy Bookseller (an indie that has closed and is dearly missed) a group of my former colleagues attended as a group. That was a special treat for me.
So booksignings were always fun experiences, but as the cliche goes, you ain't seen nothing yet! The McCormick, SC, Friends of the Library invited me to speak and sign books with a reception following the talk. Imagine my surprise when I stepped into the auditorium and saw a closed casket, complete with casket spray, in front of the podium! My protagonist, Callie Parrish, works as a cosmetician for Middleton's Mortuary. Friends of the Library were stationed around the room role-playing characters from the Callie Parrish mysteries.
The lady who portrayed Jane was sitting at a desk with a telephone. Of course she wore a red wig and dark glasses. A Victoria's Secret bag by her side spilled out all kinds of lingerie, especially Dixon's favorite color--sheer. Jane is Callie's BFF. She's visually impaired, or as Callie says, "to call a spade a flippin' shovel, she's totally blind." Leigh, you'll be glad to know that Jane gives up her wicked ways in the fifth book due out in spring, 2013. No, she hasn't quit her job as a telephone "fantasy actress," but she does stop shoplifting at Victoria's Secret and promise the sheriff she's quit for good.
My number one fan who is always at my signings is my grandson, Aeden. |
When I used to book rock 'n roll bands, we joked about someday being so famous that fans asked them to sign various body parts. I've been told, "Write your name right here," by folks who handed me a cocktail napkin, but not on any body parts (yet!)
What about you? Got any stories to share about book signings or launch parties? Or any ideas for my next one?
Until we meet again...take care of you!
Labels:
books,
bookstores,
cosies,
cozies,
Fran Rizer,
Libraries,
signings
Location:
Columbia, SC, USA
25 November 2012
Is Bigfoot In Tennessee?
I had a different article ready to post but changed my mind when I read in the local newspaper that those mythic hunters from the reality show “Finding Bigfoot” are coming to Knoxville for a week. Our esteem Knox County mayor, apparently a Bigfoot buff, declared Friday, November 16 “Knox County Bigfoot Day.” He and about 1000 citizens welcomed the cast of “Finding Bigfoot” to town. Cast members signed autographs and there was face painting for kids.
Ever the politician, the mayor didn’t say that he absolutely believes in Bigfoot. Like any professional politician, he hedged. He said he didn’t disbelieve, and pointed out that the publicity from the show might bring in a few extra dollars from visitors.
One hunter, an expert and a regular on the show, claimed that there have been 150 recorded sightings and several footprints pointing to the existence of Bigfoot here in East Tennessee. Of course he is withholding the location of the sightings until the show airs in February.
Bigfoot must be some where in the Appalachian Mountains because the most sightings in the entire United States have been recorded by our neighbor to the north, Kentucky, at least that’s what the Kentucky Bigfoot hunters claim on their web site. It’s possible Bigfoot and his family might have strolled down into the Great Smoky Mountains, and maybe even wandered down into the foothills of East Tennessee.
We human beings have seen, studied, and trapped just about every animal on earth and yet Bigfoot, Yeti, Sasquatch, abominable snowman or by whatever name we call it, who has been seen in every state in the Union, every nation, and every continent, has eluded us. How is it we can’t catch this missing link in human evolution? The dude or gal is big, standing some say 8 feet tall, so how can something so large be so elusive?
I bookmarked another Bigfoot hunting website in case that rascal is found here in East Tennessee, I’ll know almost immediately. If he is located in the mountains or foothills, I plan to join the Bigfoot Hunting Club to collect any reward that might be offered for his capture.
Above average rainfall this year produced lots of nuts and berries that in turn means there’s plenty of game in the mountains, so I know Bigfoot and his family had a good Thanksgiving.
I hope all of you did also.
24 November 2012
The Next Big Thing
by John Floyd
by John M. Floyd
A few weeks ago author B.K. Stevens invited me to participate in a "blog chain." It's called The Next Big Thing, in which writers share information about a future project--or, as one author called it, a current Work in Progress.
Here's the deal. Each writer posts a blog entry and answers ten questions about his or her upcoming book, story, or whatever, and provides links to similar pieces written by the inviter and the invitees (are those real words?). For me, participating was an easy decision because I needed to come up with a column for this Saturday anyhow, and since the subject of my post will be a collection of mystery/suspense stories, the "interview" seemed to fit SleuthSayers' crime-writer theme.
Anyhow, here goes . . .
1. What is the working title of your book (or story)?
Deception. It's a collection of short fiction--the book's title is also the title of one of the included stories.
2. Where did the idea come from for the book?
Since this is a collection of different stories, the ideas came from all over. But most of my ideas begin when I examine ordinary people or ordinary situations and ask myself "What if such-and-such happened?"
Mystery. There are a few other genres mixed in--fantasy, humor, Western, etc.--but almost all the stories include a crime of some kind, and every story involves suspense and deceit. (In fact I think deceit performs a double duty in a story or novel: when the characters are deceived, the reader is often deceived also--and if it's done well and done fairly, that's something I enjoy, as a reader.)
4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
That's something all writers like to think about and very few get to do, right? As for me and this project, it would take a hotel full of actors to play all the characters in thirty stories, so that question's hard to answer. But the title story features a resourceful and catburglary guy who's fairly young, so if I had my druthers I'd choose someone like Jude Law, Leo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg, etc.
Thirty stories of mystery, intrigue, and deception. (Make that a one-sentence-fragment synopsis.)
6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Neither. I have an agent who represents my novels, but not my short stories or collections. The book will be released in hardcover by a small, traditional publisher called Dogwood Press. DP also published my first three story collections.
7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
Again, this will be an unconventional answer to a conventional question. Since this is a group of stories, putting the book manuscript together didn't take a long time. Mostly, it involved arranging individual stories into a lineup that properly mixes settings, genres, types of crimes, longer stories vs. shorter, lighthearted stories vs. gritty, and so on. Each story's first draft probably took anything from several hours to several days to finish, and rewriting took from several days to several weeks.
If I weren't the modest fellow I am, I would compare it to similar collections by authors like Jeffery Deaver, Jack Ritchie, John D. MacDonald, Stephen King, Bill Pronzini, etc. Too bad I can't come right out and say that.
9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?
My publisher is the one who first suggested that I group some of my previously published stories into a collection, the first of which was called Rainbow's End (2006). After that book sold well, he encouraged me to follow it with other collections: Midnight (2008), Clockwork (2010), and now Deception. Authors who have inspired my fiction and my writing style are Steve Hamilton, Carl Hiaasen, Joe R. Lansdale, Harlan Coben, Nevada Barr, Stephen King, Nelson DeMille, Robert B. Parker, and others.
10. What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?
One thing all four of my books have in common is that each includes a handful of lighthearted "series" stories about retired schoolteacher Angela Potts and a former student of hers who is now the sheriff of their small southern town. Also, most of the 130 stories that are featured in the four books were previously published in places like The Strand Magazine, Woman's World, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, etc. If you like to read those publications, I think you might enjoy my stories as well.
Now it's time to pay my dues and keep my promise. Here are links to my host and to my invitees.
B.K. Stevens is a Derringer Award winner and author of stories in AHMM, Woman's World, and many other publications. Her Next Big Thing piece appears at the Untreed Reads blog.
Police officer and author Frank Zafiro is probably best known for his River City novel series. He will discuss his upcoming project at his blog.
Jan Christensen's fiction has appeared in many different publications and anthologies, as well as two novels. Her post is at her web site.
Please take a look at all those sneak prevews. BY THE WAY . . . my friend and SleuthSayers colleague David Dean will also be participating. Be sure to tune in for his answers to the ten interview questions on November 27, right here at SS.
And then get back to working on your Next Big Thing.
23 November 2012
The Unlikely Expert
by R.T. Lawton
Normally, I write a long blog article. Seems that it generally takes a lot of words for me to convey what's on my mind. Today's blog, however, is a short cautionary anecdote about the situation of becoming an unintended expert.
In the process of writing and editing another story in my Armenian series set in 1850's Chechnya along the Terek River, I paused over a Ukrainian word I had used in a couple of previous stories for a strong wine that the Cossacks made in their frontier villages. I intended to add some adjectives or other facts to go along with my wording about this wine, but needed to make sure I was correct in my description. However, rather than wade through several pages of my own background notes on Russians, Cossacks, Chechens and other peoples and their customs of that time period, I decided to take a shortcut and Google the word "chikhir" to see what more the experts had to say, which I could then use in my story.
To my surprise, I was my own expert reference. Some of the very few Google selections for that particular word quoted passages from two of my earlier Armenian stories and gave Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine as the print reference.
Just goes to show the power that writers have, therefore we must always take care to be correct in what we write on a subject, even if it's fiction.We never know when we might be the one quoted in the future.
I laughed so hard upon finding those references that my wife had to come into the study to see what was going on. Ah, well, humor is where you find it. I guess experts are too.
In the process of writing and editing another story in my Armenian series set in 1850's Chechnya along the Terek River, I paused over a Ukrainian word I had used in a couple of previous stories for a strong wine that the Cossacks made in their frontier villages. I intended to add some adjectives or other facts to go along with my wording about this wine, but needed to make sure I was correct in my description. However, rather than wade through several pages of my own background notes on Russians, Cossacks, Chechens and other peoples and their customs of that time period, I decided to take a shortcut and Google the word "chikhir" to see what more the experts had to say, which I could then use in my story.
To my surprise, I was my own expert reference. Some of the very few Google selections for that particular word quoted passages from two of my earlier Armenian stories and gave Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine as the print reference.
Just goes to show the power that writers have, therefore we must always take care to be correct in what we write on a subject, even if it's fiction.We never know when we might be the one quoted in the future.
I laughed so hard upon finding those references that my wife had to come into the study to see what was going on. Ah, well, humor is where you find it. I guess experts are too.
Labels:
Alfred Hitchcock,
mystery magazine,
R.T. Lawton
Location:
Colorado Springs, CO, USA
22 November 2012
"The Unicorn in the Garden", or God Bless You, Mr. Thurber
by Eve Fisher
I freely admit that Thanksgiving is not my favorite holiday. In my household, there were only the three of us, which meant that I was outnumbered. With neither church nor company, there was little occupation for my parents other than to eat, drink, and fight. In the immortal words of Laura Ingalls Wilder, "It was a queer, blank day," and sometimes more. The turkey was good, and the stuffing superlative, but I got the same at Christmas, and we had more variety in the way of entertainment.
But we all have our escape hatches, and mine was books, for which I give grateful and ever-lasting thanks. Especially humor. When I was a child, my grandfather found a copy of "The Thurber Carnival" lying on the street and gave it to me. At the same time, someone else gave me a copy of "The Benchley Roundup" and I was hooked - and warped - for life.
Here are some of my favorite quotes, just to warm us up:
Benchley - "A freelance writer is a man who is paid per word, per piece, or perhaps."
Thurber - “You can fool too many of the people too much of the time.”
Benchley - "Even nowadays a man can't step up and kill a woman without feeling just a bit unchivalrous."
Thurber - “With sixty staring me in the face, I have developed inflammation of the sentence structure and definite hardening of the paragraphs.”
Benchley's work was, 99% of the time, the classic humorous essay. Thurber's work ranged far more widely, from wistful to sardonic to straight-up reporting to literary analysis. (He wrote what I consider the best essay on Henry James' writing ever - "The Wings of Henry James", in the November 7, 1959 issue of the New Yorker.) And then there are his parables. Here, for our Thanksgiving entertainment, is "The Unicorn in the Garden", the obvious predecessor of "The Catbird Seat", and in both cases, one of the neatest ways of getting rid of someone unpleasant I have ever found. Not that any of us would be interested in that...
The Unicorn in the Garden
by James Thurber
reprinted from
Fables For Our Time
Have a Happy Thanksgiving, and may all your unicorns lead to high hearts.
Robert Benchley |
Here are some of my favorite quotes, just to warm us up:
Benchley - "A freelance writer is a man who is paid per word, per piece, or perhaps."
Thurber - “You can fool too many of the people too much of the time.”
James Thurber |
Benchley - "Even nowadays a man can't step up and kill a woman without feeling just a bit unchivalrous."
Thurber - “With sixty staring me in the face, I have developed inflammation of the sentence structure and definite hardening of the paragraphs.”
Benchley's work was, 99% of the time, the classic humorous essay. Thurber's work ranged far more widely, from wistful to sardonic to straight-up reporting to literary analysis. (He wrote what I consider the best essay on Henry James' writing ever - "The Wings of Henry James", in the November 7, 1959 issue of the New Yorker.) And then there are his parables. Here, for our Thanksgiving entertainment, is "The Unicorn in the Garden", the obvious predecessor of "The Catbird Seat", and in both cases, one of the neatest ways of getting rid of someone unpleasant I have ever found. Not that any of us would be interested in that...
by James Thurber
reprinted from
Fables For Our Time
Once upon a sunny morning a man who sat in a breakfast nook
looked up from his scrambled eggs to see a white unicorn with a golden
horn quietly cropping the roses in the garden. The man went up to the
bedroom where his wife was still asleep and woke her. "There's a
unicorn in the garden," he said. "Eating roses." She opened one
unfriendly eye and looked at him.
"The unicorn is a mythical beast," she said, and turned her back on him.
The man walked slowly downstairs and out into the garden. The unicorn
was still there; now he was browsing among the tulips. "Here,
unicorn," said the man, and he pulled up a lily and gave it to him. The
unicorn ate it gravely. With a high heart, because there was a unicorn
in his garden, the man went upstairs and roused his wife again. "The
unicorn," he said,"ate a lily." His wife sat up in bed and looked at
him coldly. "You are a booby," she said, "and I am going to have you
put in the booby-hatch."
The man, who had never liked the words "booby" and
"booby-hatch," and who liked them even less on a shining morning when
there was a unicorn in the garden, thought for a moment. "We'll see
about that," he said. He walked over to the door. "He has a golden
horn in the middle of his forehead," he told her. Then he went back to
the garden to watch the unicorn; but the unicorn had gone away. The man
sat down among the roses and went to sleep.
As soon as the husband had gone out of the house, the wife
got up and dressed as fast as she could. She was very excited and there
was a gloat in her eye. She telephoned the police and she telephoned a
psychiatrist; she told them to hurry to her house and bring a
strait-jacket. When the police and the psychiatrist arrived they sat
down in chairs and looked at her, with great interest.
"My husband," she said, "saw a unicorn this morning." The
police looked at the psychiatrist and the psychiatrist looked at the
police. "He told me it ate a lily," she said. The psychiatrist
looked at the police and the police looked at the psychiatrist. "He
told me it had a golden horn in the middle of its forehead," she said.
At a solemn signal from the psychiatrist, the police leaped from their
chairs and seized the wife. They had a hard time subduing her, for she
put up a terrific struggle, but they finally subdued her. Just as they
got her into the strait-jacket, the husband came back into the house.
"Did you tell your wife you saw a unicorn?" asked the
police. "Of course not," said the husband. "The unicorn is a mythical
beast." "That's all I wanted to know," said the psychiatrist. "Take
her away. I'm sorry, sir, but your wife is as crazy as a jaybird."
So they took her away, cursing and screaming, and shut her
up in an institution. The husband lived happily ever after.
Moral: Don't count your boobies until they are hatched.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving, and may all your unicorns lead to high hearts.
Labels:
Eve Fisher,
humor,
humour,
James Thurber,
Robert Benchley,
Thanksgiving
21 November 2012
Sometimes it's Magic
by Robert Lopresti
So, what is it like writing fiction?
Well, mostly it's hard work, that's all. You have to sit at a desk and think when it would be so much more fun to see what's happening on Facebook or Youtube. Turning a blank screen into deathless prose isn't easy.
If you're lucky you have a good idea in your head of what you are trying to create. Then all you have to do is to convert what you see in your head to words that will make the same picture in other people's skulls. Sometimes it's frustrating, when you can't make that translation.
And sometimes it is tedious. That's especially true when you really have no idea where a scene is going, but you know it has to be there so you slog through it. As my character Shanks puts it in one story, "sometimes you just pile the words together like bricks and hope nothing falls off."
All of that is true. But sometimes...
Sometimes...
I have been working on a novel and the novel has five parts. When I write a book I start with the sections I know best, hoping that writing them will reveal the parts that are less clear to me. So I have spent the past month on Part Four. I finished it and began slogging through Part Three, which I knew much less about.
Well. Part Three ends with my main character taking a bus back home. The scene needs to be there but there is no real action in it, so I had to keep the reader in my protagonist's head, letting his thoughts and memories become the action.
And what do you know? Right at the end, in the very last slogging, brick-after-brick paragraph, my character revealed his motive for everything he is about to do in Part Four. I didn't even know there was a motive that needed to be revealed, but there it was, waiting for me. I had written the effect, and suddenly, pow, I was looking at the cause.
So, what is it like writing fiction?
Sometimes, just occasionally, it's goddamned magic.
So, what is it like writing fiction?
Well, mostly it's hard work, that's all. You have to sit at a desk and think when it would be so much more fun to see what's happening on Facebook or Youtube. Turning a blank screen into deathless prose isn't easy.
If you're lucky you have a good idea in your head of what you are trying to create. Then all you have to do is to convert what you see in your head to words that will make the same picture in other people's skulls. Sometimes it's frustrating, when you can't make that translation.
And sometimes it is tedious. That's especially true when you really have no idea where a scene is going, but you know it has to be there so you slog through it. As my character Shanks puts it in one story, "sometimes you just pile the words together like bricks and hope nothing falls off."
All of that is true. But sometimes...
Sometimes...
I have been working on a novel and the novel has five parts. When I write a book I start with the sections I know best, hoping that writing them will reveal the parts that are less clear to me. So I have spent the past month on Part Four. I finished it and began slogging through Part Three, which I knew much less about.
Well. Part Three ends with my main character taking a bus back home. The scene needs to be there but there is no real action in it, so I had to keep the reader in my protagonist's head, letting his thoughts and memories become the action.
And what do you know? Right at the end, in the very last slogging, brick-after-brick paragraph, my character revealed his motive for everything he is about to do in Part Four. I didn't even know there was a motive that needed to be revealed, but there it was, waiting for me. I had written the effect, and suddenly, pow, I was looking at the cause.
So, what is it like writing fiction?
Sometimes, just occasionally, it's goddamned magic.
Location:
Bellingham, WA, USA
20 November 2012
Thanksgiving Ruminations
by Dale Andrews
Nora planned Thanksgiving with a sort of desperation -- a woman trying to hold on to her world as it growled and heaved about her.
There were two of Wiley Gallimard's fanciest toms, and chestnuts to be grated in absurd quantities, and cranberries from Bald Mountain to be mashed, and turnips and pumpkins and goodies galore . . . all requiring preparation, fuss, work, with and without Alberta Manaska's help . . . all requiring concentration. And while her house filled with savory odors, Nora would brook no assistance from Alberta -- not Pat, not Hermione, not even old Ludie, who went about muttering for days about "these snippy young know-it-all brides."
Hermy dabbed at her eyes. "It's the first Thanksgiving since we were married, John, that I haven't made the family dinner. Nora baby -- your table's beautiful!"
"Maybe this time, : chuckled John F., "I won't have indigestion. Bring on that turkey and stuffing!"Ellery Queen
Calamity Town, 1942
T. S. Eliot, in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock reflects on counting out one’s life in coffee spoons. For me, more and more, I find myself counting out my life in Thanksgivings. This is probably anchored in the fact that for the past thirty-some years Thanksgiving (by some thank-less tradition) has become my responsibility. I cook the whole thing. I used to have a real approach/avoidance conflict as the fateful day approached, but as the years have passed I seem to have fallen into a rhythm. More often than not everything comes out fine in the end.
The holiday hasn’t contributed a background to many mystery stories (although an internet search will reveal a fistful of cozies that use the day as backdrop). A notable exception to this is Calamity Town, Ellery Queen's first Wrightsville mystery, published in 1942. Calamity Town is the only Ellery Queen selected by H. R. F. Keating in his 100 Best Books of Crime and Mystery, and a poisonous (literally) Thanksgiving gathering figures prominently in the plot.
As Ellery discovered when he found himself interjected into the midst of the Wrights' family holiday get together in Calamity Town, sometimes one of the less predictable aspects of Thanksgiving is the people who will in fact be in attendance. One of the reasons Thanksgivings in our household are memorable is that they tend to have a completely different cast of characters each year, often comprised of folks who do not know each other, or who know each other just barely. Throughout the years Thanksgiving has been a day when we “take in strays.” We try to find acquaintances who otherwise have no one with whom to celebrate.
This year’s list of attendees has its own unique theme. The usual core group will be present – Pat, me, our elder son Devon and our younger son Colin. Colin’s significant other will also be dining with us, as usual on the holiday. I am reflecting on Dixon’s column last week as I type this, particularly his discussion of the gay sheriff in the next county over.
Kyle and Colin |
Anyway, all of the foregoing underscores what an important day Thanksgiving has become. All of this preparation, all of this travel, all of this anticipation over a meal. But the day-long preparation, coupled with throwing together people who often do not dine together at all except on that day, is bound to be the stuff of which family legends are made. We have many. Sometimes these have focused around mini-disasters, although none that can hold a candle to those experienced by Mr. Queen and the Wright clan in Calamity Town. Over the years our calamities have been much more prosaic -- a garbage disposal that has not once, but twice, clogged completely on potato peels on Thanksgiving, once with an insidious blockage so far down the line that, unbeknownst to us, the water backed up through a drain in the lower level of our house, leaving us to discover the lower rooms awash with greasy garbage disposal water just about the time we were otherwise ready for pie. And, again, not once, but twice, our refrigerator has gone out days before Thanksgiving.
But all Thanksgiving anecdotes in our family are not mini calamities. Like all theatre, they seem to break also toward the comedic. One of my favorite Thanksgiving yarns takes me back precisely 50 years, to 1962, when I was 13. Other than my younger brother and me, everyone else at that long ago Thanksgiving dinner, served at my maternal grandparents’ home in Creve Coeur, Missouri, is now no longer with us. But the memory lives.
Assembled around the table fifty years ago were my father and mother, my mother’s parents, affectionately known as Pop and Grandma Moelling, my father’s mother, known always as Grandmother Andrews, my mother’s sister Eunice and a great aunt, Aunt Ava, from Vandalia Illinois. My grandmothers, like many in-laws, smiled a lot but in fact grated a bit on each other. Grandma Moelling was sweet but a bit scattery. Grandmother Andrews, four foot eight when measured in any direction, had (it must be admitted) airs of pretension. One would never refer to her as “Grandma,” only as “Grandmother.” She aspired to matriarch but never could quite pull it off.
After we had all taken our seats at the thanksgiving table that day in 1962, Grandmother Andrews, as she had every year within my memory, turned to me with the air of a director raising the baton and said “Dale, say ‘Come Lord Jesus.’”
I squirmed in my chair. As noted above, I was 13 years old on that November day in 1962, and had already begun my long journey into agnosticism. But I had known what was coming, and I had a plan. I was going to make my stand that Thanksgiving. I cleared my throat and said “I don’t want to give the blessing this year.”
Grandmother Andrews gasped and stared across the table at me, eyes wide. Stunned silence otherwise reigned. Everyone looked at each other, uncertain how to proceed.
Finally my father cleared his throat, indicating that he was about to attempt a Deus ex Machina. “I know what we can do,” he said eying the already unconvinced family members staring back at him. “When we were at my boss’ house for dinner the other week we did something very special. We all clasped hands under the table, bowed our heads and quietly to ourselves each of us said grace.”
Well we had to do something, so all nine of us clasped hands, bowed our heads, and looked down at our plates.
The silence was broken when Grandma Moelling said “Grace.”
No one at the table knew what to do except my brother and me. We burst out laughing. Grandma Moelling just sat there flustered, trying to work out what she had done wrong.
Grandmother Andrews looked up, turned to my father, her son, and said “Wallace, that was nice.” Then she glared across the table at me and said “Now Dale, say ‘Come Lord Jesus.’”
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
Labels:
Dale C. Andrews,
Ellery Queen,
Thanksgiving
Location:
Chevy Chase, Washington, DC
19 November 2012
Random Thoughts
by Jan Grape
Seems like I've used the "Random Thoughts" as my article title before, but not sure and even if I have it's here again. Mainly, because I had a rather good idea earlier this week on what I was going to write and silly me didn't write it down or make notes and I've forgotten what it was. So all day today, I'm been searching my brain to remember and since I didn't remember you're stuck with my random notes.
I was watching Sixty Minutes a little earlier this evening and one segment was on thorough research being done with babies to see if they are able to show that their little brains are not exactly a blob or sponge. That they actually can think. The researchers had babies three and six months old watch little puppet shows with a Teddy bear in blue shirt and another bear in a yellow shirt. The bear in the blue shirt does a good action and the bear in the yellow shirt does a bad action. The researcher then would let the baby choose which bear they want. Over 84% of the babies chose the bear in the blue shirt. who had done the good deed. Strangely enough the three-month-old baby would look at the bear who did the bad thing for only about five seconds while the baby would look at the bear who did the good thing for 33 seconds. This showed that even the babies who couldn't reach for the bears, in fact, made a choice. In the test with the six-month-old babies, the baby would reach for the bear in the blue shirt...the one who had done the good thing in over 87% of the time.
More of the tests consisted of the babies choosing a bear who liked a certain food offered as the baby was offered. The baby would choose the bear who chose the same as he or she did. This test indicated the baby had some bias by wanting the same thing. Because it wanted the food object that the bear seemed to choose. These researchers in the Baby Lab have published their results so they may be examined and duplicated by other researchers.
I have no idea how this plays out in the future but the researchers did go on to say that babies do go on to learn likes and dislikes from parents, teachers, and religions, all the things making up their environments. I guess it is true that evil and hate can be taught but we are actually born with some prejudices and biases inside us from the beginning. We just learn right from wrong and suppress those wrong things if we become a "good person" and never do suppress them if we're a "bad person."
It was quite interesting and I may not have gotten all of the information exactly right but I imagine you can go to Sixty Minutes online for details. It does, however, seem to be something we might consider when writing our good guy and our bad guy characters. The old good verses evil and nature verses nurture comes into play. Someone being born bad to the bone. And where does empathy come in? Is that something we're born with or without? I also remember reading a while back about names defining a personality. I guess if you name your child Adolph Hitler or Judas or Jezebell you can expect him or her to grow up to be bad. But if you choose a name like Matthew, Mark, Mary or Esther you child will be good.
Yet here's another random thought about babies having some ability to think even when only three months or six months old. Is it possible that the baby is a old soul? A person who lived before? That reincarnation is real? Perhaps in the previous life they were "bad" and have to come back to earth, live again and try to learn to be "good." That you have to keep coming back until you learn the lessons of being "good" until you finally get it right and can evolve or go to heaven?
Like I said, random thoughts. And one final one...and it's a good thing I watched Sixty Minutes tonight so I'd have something to write about. (All because the Dallas Cowboys played an early game...which they won in overtime by the way.) Another segment on the TV show tonight was about ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents) taking down a strong, powerful, rich drug cartel which operated in South America. The leaders made billions of U.S. dollars and yet lived almost like someone without much of anything. That was one reason it was hard for the agents to identify them. Living it up with millions is somewhat of a give-away to agents. When the mastermind was captured, one of the agents asked him why he lived so frugally when he had all these millions of dollars? His answer..."Power." Remember that in your next story. Money, power and greed. To some people, POWER is what matters most.
I personally have much to be thankful for and I wish you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving.
Labels:
60 Minutes,
baby,
characters,
research,
Thanksgiving,
writing
Location:
Cottonwood Shores, TX, USA
18 November 2012
Florida News
by Leigh Lundin
Florida madness continues, not merely in the political arena. It's not the heat, it's the humidity. Read on, MacDuff.
Humans: 352 — Roaches: 1
Man wins roach-eating contest. The rest of the news: won contest, lost life. They said he was the life of the party; and then he wasn't.
Usually kids just carry the ring.
Two weeks before her marriage, 32-year old Destiny Witte had it all… dream wedding planned, three wonderful children, handsome fiancé, sparkling engagement ring, sex with a 14-year-old boy in a public toilet… Oops. (Psst, guys. She's available again.)
Just pay the bill, man!
Orlando police arrested Jeremie Calo not for having sex on a restaurant table but refusing to pay the bill. Meanwhile, off-duty Orlando police drove 115mph to arrive at the scene.
Inspector Javert's kin is alive and well in Sarasota
Sergeant Anthony Frangioni arrested a homeless man for theft of services when the out-of-work man charged his cell phone in a public park. The electrical socket is normally used by picnickers and maintenance. Electricity used? 1¢. Bail? $500. Arresting a homeless man in need? Priceless.
Happens in snowstorms, too.
Dumb and Dumber, two dim-witted teen burglars, got lost, circled back to scene of the crime.
Not cool, man. Didn't you watch Jurassic Park III?
Immigration and Customs Enforcement arrested Eric Prokopi, "commercial paleontologist", for smuggling dinosaurs into the US.
Mother-in-Law loses gambit, wins title.
Murderous MiL is back in the news again, winning the web site mom.me's Mother-in-Law from Hell award, although her entire family plotted the kill. These four linked videos indicate if her son-in-law had accepted her invitation to step inside her parlor, he probably wouldn't be alive.
With a twin, you're never alone.
[We’ve been asked by one of the parties to remove her name. Although we quoted police sources, we remind readers that parties are considered innocent until proven otherwise and it is not the intent of SleuthSayers to cause needless distress. For more information, see take-down request.]
Florida Governor Scott's hot phone sex line
You would think a man who committed the largest Medicare/Medicaid fraud in history would know the difference between meningitis and men in tight places, but not so. Maybe that's where Benjamin Ashauer went wrong. At least he wasn't like the Seattle perv who told police to wait.
Citizens Grand Jury
In Florida, politics is an ugly blood sport. Larry 'Ku Klux' Klayman (that's spelled with a 'y' and not an 'n' and that's an opinion, not his sobriquet) claims to be a former Justice Department prosecutor. He hit the internet with his "citizens grand jury" (a three-way oxymoron), a "true bill", which seeks to indict President Obama in the alternate universe of Ocala, Florida for bat-shit loony stuff like:
But hey, this is Florida. Come for the sunshine, stay for the madness.
Humans: 352 — Roaches: 1
Man wins roach-eating contest. The rest of the news: won contest, lost life. They said he was the life of the party; and then he wasn't.
Usually kids just carry the ring.
Two weeks before her marriage, 32-year old Destiny Witte had it all… dream wedding planned, three wonderful children, handsome fiancé, sparkling engagement ring, sex with a 14-year-old boy in a public toilet… Oops. (Psst, guys. She's available again.)
Just pay the bill, man!
Orlando police arrested Jeremie Calo not for having sex on a restaurant table but refusing to pay the bill. Meanwhile, off-duty Orlando police drove 115mph to arrive at the scene.
Inspector Javert's kin is alive and well in Sarasota
Sergeant Anthony Frangioni arrested a homeless man for theft of services when the out-of-work man charged his cell phone in a public park. The electrical socket is normally used by picnickers and maintenance. Electricity used? 1¢. Bail? $500. Arresting a homeless man in need? Priceless.
Happens in snowstorms, too.
Dumb and Dumber, two dim-witted teen burglars, got lost, circled back to scene of the crime.
Not cool, man. Didn't you watch Jurassic Park III?
Immigration and Customs Enforcement arrested Eric Prokopi, "commercial paleontologist", for smuggling dinosaurs into the US.
Mother-in-Law loses gambit, wins title.
Murderous MiL is back in the news again, winning the web site mom.me's Mother-in-Law from Hell award, although her entire family plotted the kill. These four linked videos indicate if her son-in-law had accepted her invitation to step inside her parlor, he probably wouldn't be alive.
With a twin, you're never alone.
[We’ve been asked by one of the parties to remove her name. Although we quoted police sources, we remind readers that parties are considered innocent until proven otherwise and it is not the intent of SleuthSayers to cause needless distress. For more information, see take-down request.]
Florida Governor Scott's hot phone sex line
You would think a man who committed the largest Medicare/Medicaid fraud in history would know the difference between meningitis and men in tight places, but not so. Maybe that's where Benjamin Ashauer went wrong. At least he wasn't like the Seattle perv who told police to wait.
Citizens Grand Jury
In Florida, politics is an ugly blood sport. Larry 'Ku Klux' Klayman (that's spelled with a 'y' and not an 'n' and that's an opinion, not his sobriquet) claims to be a former Justice Department prosecutor. He hit the internet with his "citizens grand jury" (a three-way oxymoron), a "true bill", which seeks to indict President Obama in the alternate universe of Ocala, Florida for bat-shit loony stuff like:
- treason against the US, Israel, and Arizona
- treason: nurturing the Arab Spring
- treason: sending foreign aid to Hamas
- revealing SEAL Team 6 got bin Laden
- financing the so-called Ground Zero mosque
- being financed by Iran's Revolutionary Guard
- falsifying his birth certificate and place of birth
- treason: a "black Muslim-in-chief" in "devilish whoredom"
But hey, this is Florida. Come for the sunshine, stay for the madness.
Labels:
Florida,
grand juries,
juries,
Leigh Lundin
Location:
KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa
17 November 2012
Big Words and Little Words
by Elizabeth Zelvin
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary."
- William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway).
"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"
- Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
Besides being clever, these two statements express a profound philosophical gulf between two kinds of writing. As a college English major in the early 1960s, I found Hemingway’s language too plain and Faulkner’s so ornamented as to make the stories he was telling incomprehensible.
That is not to say that I reject plain diction. As a poet for thirty years, I was proud that no reader ever said to me, “I didn’t understand your poem.” My second book of poetry, if I remember correctly, contained only seven words of four or more syllables. Nor have I ever been afraid of “big words.” As a kid, I could rattle off “antidisestablishmentarianism” with the best of them.
Since my college days, the English language and its literature has endured what I consider the toxic embrace of Deconstructionism, with its irritatingly opaque invented vocabulary. (Can you explain what “semiotics” means?) Thank goodness that instead of going on for my doctorate, I ran away and joined the Peace Corps—and discovered mysteries and other genre fiction. I’m told that Deconstructionism lasted longer in American academia than anywhere else. And yet it’s Hemingway whose approach to language has triumphed. With my own ears, I’ve heard Stephen King (very much a writer’s writer) declare that his advice to aspiring writers is, “Read, read, read; write, write, write—and lose the adverbs.”
In the past few years, in the process of developing my craft to the point where I realize that the ability to self-critique is a never-ending process, I have come to understand what’s wrong with adverbial writing. Those tough action verbs can serve the writer well. But I still think it’s pretty weird for the arbiters of language to shun an entire part of speech. I have enjoyed reading work in which adverbs are used deliciously and evocatively to enhance the meat and potatoes of nouns and verbs. So it’s a different style. So what? Why not?
Hemingway and Faulkner, like cozies and noir, are too often assumed to be the only alternatives. Let’s hear it for the middle ground. Language can be rich without losing the reader and strong without being stripped stark naked. But what’s really dangerous is allowing any one literary style to be considered the only right way to write. By all means, let expansive writers rein themselves in by deleting adverbs and replacing Latinate words with their Anglo-Saxon-based equivalents. But let’s also invite the hard-boiled heirs of Hemingway to spread themselves a little. Stick in a couple of adverbs on every page, if not every sentence. Go on, try it. You might find it’s fun.
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