Pom Poms for Sunshine

I'm just about ready to split Philly and head up the NJ Turnpike. It's Edgars Day, and I'll be at the banquet tonight cheerleading for Al "Sunshine" Guthrie, whose brilliant Kiss Her Goodbye is up for "best paperback original." No predictions here; don't want to jinx anything. All I've got to say is: This year, it's hot to be a Scot.

I'm also not going to make the mistake of promising I'll blog while I'm in New York, because every time I do that, something comes up and makes me eat my words. I'm bringing my laptop. I'll be in a hotel with Internet. We'll just see. No promises.

In the meantime, here are some odds and ends from this week's City Paper you might find amusing:

In my editor's letter, I discuss crime and punishment, backpack vacuum cleaners, and the dried blood of Christ.

Elsewhere, I had the chance to hurl some questions at noir legend Seymour Shubin, whose Witness to Myself is just out from Hard Case Crime.

Our own Brian Howard sits down with the members of Eyeball Skeleton for the most amusing rock and roll interview ever. (The members of Eyeball Skeleton are ages 31, 11 and "almost 10.")

Finally, if you've ever wanted to know what it was like to feast on an infant, we've got the story for you.

A Confession

It's probably time to finally admit that I cribbed most of The Wheelman from Megan McCafferty novels. Yep, the getaway plot, the mute Irish guy, the bloodshed, the beatings, the pipe... it's all from her books.

I apologize to my readers and to Ms. McCafferty. All I can say is that I must have internalized her fiction, which I've loved since I was a little girl. I mean, boy.

Oh, and The Blonde is a total rip-off of James Frey's My Friend Leonard, along with some portions of The Da Vinci Code.

For my next book, I am now splicing together pieces of Marley and Me and The Bhagavad Gita. It will ROCK.

City Paper Goodness

All of the stories in each issue of the Philadelphia City Paper are like my children. How could I possibly pick my favorites?

I just couldn't.

But I could point you in the direction of a few stories that I think Secret Dead Blog readers might especially dig.

Like:

The story about how a Russian gangster in Northeast Philly nicknamed "The Colonel" has imported ten "battle-hardened motherfuckers" to serve as local enforcers. "These guys are highly skilled killers," says one law enforcement source. "Smart and violent." Nice, eh? And you thought I made up the shit about the Russian mob in The Wheelman.

Then there's also the story about the young Irish flautist who MI-5 tried to turn into a spy. Hey, can you blame them for trying? I mean, I'm sure their marching band can't play for shite. Thankfully, the lad resisted. "I see myself as an Irishman all my life and you can't all of a sudden stop being an Irishman and start working for British intelligence and betray your people." (This one's for Ken.)

And finally, there's my own story about taking my daughter to the emergency room a week and a half ago. If nothing else, it'll teach you to avoid all things citrus.

The Skiatook Sessions, Pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo

When we left Victor Gischler yesterday (in "The Skiatook Sessions, Pt. 1") he'd just revealed that he'd pitched the concept of his latest crime thriller, Shotgun Opera, to Bantam Dell with just five sentences, a popsicle stick and a roll of Mentos. Naturally, I had to ask...

Secret Dead Blog: What were those five sentences?

Victor Gischler: Some people shoot each other. Then the characters say some swear words. More shooting after that. Characters contemplate fate while smoking cigarettes. Please pay me now.

Seriously, I have no idea where that pitch is, and even if I did save it, I'd pretend I didn't. I hate summarizing my work and I'm really bad at it anyway.

SDB: What's the hardest part of novel writing: starting, continuing, finishing, or editing?

VG: Yes.

SDB: When you were teaching, what did your students make of your crime fiction? Were they all over you, following you around after class, offering to Turtle Wax your car and stuff?

VG: I told them that I'd published novels and short stories so they could have confidence that I was legit, but I didn't tell them what flavor, and I never even hinted they should go out and buy my books. My job was to help them develop their own voice, style, etc. Some did take the time to find Gun Monkeys and read it. Some expressed their admiration -- mostly (but not always) young hip males with an appreciation for the edgy. Those who didn't admire my work were polite enough not to mention it. At least not to my face.

SDB: While we were hanging out in Birmingham, I was stunned by the number of people who asked you about "the lemurs." Clearly, they were fans of your "World's Worst Blog" (which is sorely missed), or at least, were influenced by fans of "World's Worst Blog." I think you underestimate its popularity. Okay, this isn't really a question. More of an observation. Feel free to comment as you wish.

VG: You never can tell what people will take a fancy to. The lemur thing was this throwaway gag to fill space on a new website. I ended up getting lemur e-mail quite frequently -- news stories, pictures, nice folks warning me not to see the animated film Madagascar because of the dangerous lemur content. I thought to myself, "Hmmmm, this website was meant to promote my books ... but people are only talking about the lemurs. Have I made a mistake here?" Hey, if it helps keep my name from fading into obscurity ... then what the hell?

SDB: What are you working on now?

VG: I might be trying my hand at a screenplay soon, but what I'm mostly working on is a short, edgy crazy novel called Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse. Sort of a Philip K. Dick/Kilgore Trout kind of thing. I'm calling it my Emerson LaSalle novel. Emerson LaSalle, as I'm sure you know, is the under-recognized pulp author of .38 Caliber Goth Girl, Battle Jesuits of Pope Town, and I Married a Teenage Old Man. Good stuff.

Sallis, Gran and Doolittle Owe Me a High Five

Amazon is always coming up with nifty statistic-type features to crush your soul... er, I mean, give writers insight into who's buying what kinds of books and why. Here's one I just noticed on the page for The Wheelman:

In other words, over a third of the people who check out The Wheelman go on to buy Jim Sallis' kick-ass getaway driver novel. Almost as many buy Sara Gran's sweet Dope. And look at lil' Sean Doolittle, more than doubling my own percentage.

I'm not sure what it is about The Wheelman that inspires people to go and buy other books, but hey: whatever works, right? I'm glad to be of service.

(And thank you, loyal 6%! I always liked you best.)

The Skiatook Sessions, Pt.1

Victor Gischler -- the only Edgar-nominated author in all of Skiatook, Oklahoma -- is no stranger to the silly blog interview. The man pioneered it, at least in crime fiction circles, in his much-missed "World's Worst Blog." So it is only appropriate that Gischler be forced to dance to his own music. As mystery fans in Birmingham, Albama once famously told Victor: "Dance, Monkey Man! Dance!"

Secret Dead Blog: Shotgun Opera is a great title. I was jealous the moment I heard it. Clearly, this Book Four in your "Gun Quartet" (Gun, Pistol, Squeeze). You've been planning this "gun title" thing since you were 12 years old, haven't you?

Victor Gischler: Actually, when I followed up Gun Monkeys with The Pistol Poets, the folks at Bantam Dell assumed I had a plan like that, so they were surprised when I turned in a novel called Mariachi Static. They said, "Uh .... where's the gun title?" We talked about it and settled on Suicide Squeeze as a "sort of" gun title. After all, sooner or later I'd run out of combinations. Uzi Bastards? Derringer Dudes? It would get tiresome after a while.

SDB: You've espoused "going Bruckheimer" whenever the going gets rough in a novel. Is this you being silly, or is there a glimmer of real advice in there?

VG: Was it Chandler who said if things get slow have a guy with a gun walk into the room? "going Bruckheimer" is the 21st Century version of that, I guess.

SDB: Rumor has it you were briefly a horror writer before moving into crime fiction. Well?

VG: Not in the "scary" horror sense, but yes. I have a book called Three on a Light which consists of very tightly connected short stories featuring private eye Dean Murphy. As the result of a cursed Zippo lighter, he finds himself involved with vampires, werewolves, zombies, etc. I found two small publishers for it on two differnet occasions but it seemed like something would always happen to flush the deal. Some of the individual stories are floating around the web. I'd love to find a publisher for the book but it' sort of a tough sell maybe ... mixed genre. Not quite a novel but more than just a collection. I've also written other horror, sci-fi, fantasy stories. Some were published, but many weren't. I definitely have some ideas for an eventual return to these genres.

SDB: Tell us another rumor about you that is completely true.

VG: Are there rumors about me? I haven't heard any. Let's start some. I need the publicity.

SDB: How did Shotgun evolve? I seem to remember you telling me, over beers, that you wrote a gonzo outline first, and then plowed in. (Then again, we *were* having beers.) Lift the hood and give us a glimpse at the Gischler Story Engine.

VG: Well, here's how it worked at Bantam Dell ... at least for me. They wanted to see a synopsis before I started writing. This was a complete creativity buzz kill. I like to jump into a novel and start writing. I hate to summarize and outline. But I'm a cooperative guy, so I sat down and spilled out a really good, really detailed outline. All they liked was the title. So I spent two weeks pulling other ideas out of my ass until they liked one. The final novel was based on a short paragraph about fives sentences long. They said, "That's the one. Write that." So then I had to sit down and figure out a novel to live up to those five sentences.

To be continued...

Hooray for the Bride!

Happy Birthday to my beautiful Bride. Who knew that a nerd like me would grow up to marry a former cheerleader? (Well, technically, a "banner carrier," but still.) This is an ultra-rare, early photo of the Bride, taken the day I proposed to her. I kid, I kid. People, she's eight in this photo! Come on, now! What do you think I am, Jerry Lee Lewis? But it is true we met when we were both impossibly young, and now that we've cracked the 30 barrier, we realize that we've known each other more than half our lives, which is more than a little weird. I'm just lucky to have celebrated so many birthdays with her. And all I want is to spent the rest of our birthdays together. (And maybe see if we can track down an adult version of that uniform.)

Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I'd carry your banner any day.

"Oh Yes. There Will Be Guns."

Just spent a good chunk of my Easter Sunday reading Shotgun Opera, Victor Gischler's latest. Let me show you Gischler's brilliance with a one-line excerpt. Now it's not the most important line; it isn't a spoiler, either. Come to think of it, Gischler himself would probably consider it a throwaway:

"All I want, Dr. Bryant, is to eat Lay's Jalapeno Kettle chips and to kill you."

But it demonstrates what I love about Gischler's work: the combination of menace and other-worldly humor. And one doesn't come at the expense of the other. There are funny writers. There are violent writers. There are precious few funny and violent writers. You try cracking a joke about a potato chip and making the reader the cringe at the same time. (Because when this line appears, you have no doubt that the speaker isn't kidding about the killing part.) And this balancing act makes Shotgun Opera the most gleefully sadistic, stylish, revenge-soaked, man-doin'-what-a-man's-gotta-do crime novel I've read all year.

Shotgun also features the most impressively weird cast of villains... like, ever. I hestiate to say more, because I don't want to cross over into Spoilerville, but trust me: Batman or James Bond or even Dick Tracy never faced off against opponents like these. There's even a bad guy named after a certain crime writer/TV screenwriter/blogger. (Go ahead and deny it, Victor.)

I don't want to make it sound like Shotgun is all satire; people get hurt, the pain is for real, and the tears sting. But at certain points you can almost hear Gischler cackling in the background, making him seem less like a crime novelist and more like a semi-insane demigod out of Greek legend.

You'll love Shotgun Opera. Pick it up in mass market paperback next next Tuesday (April 25th).

Hmm. Maybe you didn't hear me.

Pick it up in mass market paperback next next Tuesday. That's April 25th to you and me. This is not a suggestion, people.

Ken: The Early Years

For years now, fans of Ken Bruen have been tortured by the first three titles that usually appeared in his "other books by" rundown: Funeral. Shades of Grace. Martyrs. Some even list books called In the Time of Serena-May and Sherry: And Other Stories. What are these books? When did Ken write them? Are they available? Until now, the answer that last question has been a big fat resounding NO. I once caught a glimpse of In the Time of Serena-May during Edgars week two years ago, but before I could take that elusive dream-object into my hands, Ken smashed a bottle of Sam Adams over the table and placed the jagged business end directly below my chin, just by way of friendly Irish warning. The book was immediately removed from the premises and placed under the watch of Swiss guards. And the other titles? Please. I'd have better luck tracking down the Jackalope or growing a third nipple on my chest with the power of my mind.

All that has changed, though, with the publication of A Fifth in Bruen from our friends at Busted Flush Press (the same folks bringing you Damn Near Dead). Not just a single book... but all five rare-as-hell titles, in one ultra-affordable trade paperback, along with an intro from Al "Sunshine" Guthrie. And there's even a special bonus collectable--a Fifth of Bruen Zippo lighter--in limited quantities. Hit Busted Flush Press for more details and ordering info.

Update: Crikey. There's a SIXTH book in this collection. See Sunshine's note in "comments."

Close to the Edit

I can tell I'm a bit obsessed with the copyedit of The Blonde, because I'm dreaming about it.

No kidding. Last night, I dreamed that I was reading a page out of the finished book (don't ask me why, because I don't re-read my own books, other than to nervously scan for bone-headed errors). And I saw a mistake that made my imaginary jaw drop.

I'd misspelled "miasma."

It looked like:

miassama.

And I thought to myself (in my dream): Goddamnit. I can't believe I missed that! How the fuck did I miss that? That jumps right off the page and smacks you in the nose. How did I miss that!?

And I snapped awake, and was seriously relieved it was only a dream, and that I still had four more days to obsess over the manuscript.

Yes, my friends, I'm that far gone.

But the copyediting review process is going well. This copy editor is one of the good 'uns. She's made many a great save, including those annoying continuity errors that I always seem to miss (and Al "Sunshine" Guthrie loves to tease me about... oh, go ahead, just ask him about the cigarette that shows up in The Wheelman, despite the fact that Lennon tells us he's a non-smoker in the very first chapter). At left is an example of one of those great saves; my hospital of choice in The Blonde is Pennsylvania Hospital, but I let a reference to Jefferson slip in somehow. I don't know how this happens. I think my brain likes to play little jokes on me. In other part of the book, a character injures his right hand. I made sure it was his right hand, because he's right-handed. You'd think something like this would be easy to remember, right? Nope. Elsewhere in the manuscript, the guy is bitching about his left hand. Nice, Swierczynski. Nice.

However, there are other corrections I want to "stet." (For those of you playing at home, "stet" means you want the copy editor to leave it the way you had it.) For instance, at one point, a bunch of crack whores are making fun of a character, and they call him:

"Assclown."

The copy editor put a space mark (#) between "ass" and "clown," and noted:

As "ass master," etc., p. 18, because on the next page, the same crack whores call the guy "ass master." (As well as "ass bag.")

But I circled "assclown" and wrote "stet," because I don't think it should be:

"Ass clown."

Anyone who's hurled this particular insult knows it's:

"Assclown."

Right? I mean, c'mon, say it out loud. "Al, you're such an ass clown." Doesn't work, does it? That little pause takes the sting right out of it. Might as well be calling Al a "doody head." No. You want nothing coming between those twin whipcracks of blistering insult: "Al, you're such an assclown."

Sometimes, a suggested copy edit is well-intentioned, but kills a joke. For instance, in one section, there's an imagined newspaper headline about a decapitated head:

HOW TO GET A HEAD IN THE TAXI BUSINESS

and the copy editor wanted to make "a head" one word, as in

HOW TO GET AHEAD IN THE TAXI BUSINESS

which totally kills the pun. (Being a newspaper editor, I live and die for bad headline puns.)

So I stet that sucker, too.

But these are minor problems, when considering all of the great saves the copy editor has made. So I'm in no position to complain.

I just hope I stop dreaming about this shit.

The Saga of the Gay Mummer

You know how I've been on a semi-regular rant about people who make shit up and pass it off as the truth?

Well, in the past two weeks, people have started to call "bullshit" on me. They point to a story I wrote for Philadelphia Magazine that appeared in January 1999 about a "gay Mummer." (The Mummers Parade, for you non-Philadelphians, is a New Year's Day tradition in which grown men--and now, women--dress up in goose feathers and gold fabric, strap on elaborate backpieces, and march up Broad Street playing show tunes and other pop gems. It's big, it's weird, and I love it. I've even marched in two parades.)

Anyway, my "gay Mummer" story for Philly Mag was made up. Complete fiction, from top to bottom.

Thing is, it was meant to be fiction. You can read all about it in my editor's letter this week.

By way of follow-up, Philebrity just has clipped, scanned and posted the original article, so you can read it for yourself.

It's funnier than I remember. (And there are more than a few "this can't be real" moments.) Still, it's a failure as a parody, looking back on it now.

Gorman and Lankford Spill All

At long last, Ed Gorman turns that shockingly powerful laser beam of inquisitiveness --- his Pro-File series -- on himself. My favorite answer, detailing how Ed sold his first novel, should serve as encouragement to anyone trying to land their first sale:

I'd never been able to finish a novel until I met Max Allan Collins. I wouldn’t have been able to finish my first novel Rough Cut without his encouragement and advice. I mean that literally. We sent it to his agent, who is now my agent, but who passed on it because: “The most psychotic character in the novel is the narrator.” I then sent it to another agent who held it for several months. Whenever I’d contact him he’d say, “You write an awful lot like Dick Francis and I really don’t like Dick Francis.” I took it back and sent it to St. Martin’s where an assistant editor, now the enormously successful agent Brian DeFiore, picked it out of slush, liked it and embarked on a three-month battle to get it approved by committee. He called with the good word. Carol and I stayed high for a week.

It's that "three-month battle" thing that gets me. To be on the hook that long... my God. Even the folks at Abu Ghraib couldn't come up with a way to top that torture.

Meanwhile, over at author Nichelle Tramble's blog, there's a very fine Q&A; with my favorite Hollywood denizen and possum lover, Terrill Lankford. And he shares an anecdote that would chill any writer's blood. Here, he's taking about the book that would later become Earthquake Weather and Blonde Lightning:

I had it sold (as one big book) to William Morrow about five days before 9/11 occurred. Afterwards, all bets were off. My editor was let go and the book was up in the air again. The big breakthrough for that book was the realization that there were two books to be found there. That's when the real work began. Once I split it into two books, things moved pretty quickly from there. Four years later -- publication! A fourteen year journey to the remainder table.

I don't know about you, but if that happened to me... a book cancelled days after a sale... I'd be reaching for a cocktail glass, vermouth, olives and Liquid Drano.

Go read the whole interview, but more importantly, go read the excellent Earthquake Weather and Blonde Lightning, the two best Hollywood novels I've read since Richard Christian Matheson's Created By.

(Thanks to Kevin Burton Smith for pointing me to the interview.)

PointBlank 2.0

I've been sitting on this news for a while, but now it's official: the good folks at Wildside Press are relaunching PointBlank Press this fall, kicking off with two reprints and two original titles. The reprints: Allan "Sunshine" Guthrie's stunning debut Two-Way Split (October) and my own Secret Dead Men (December).

The main differences between these editions and the original hardcover/trade paperback releases? They'll be offset printed instead of POD (print-on-demand), which means they'll look (and feel) like usual trade paperbacks. Plus, they will be distributed through Diamond, which means you'll have a better chance of finding a copy at your local bookstore (and perhaps even comic shops). And they'll be a bit cheaper: $12.95 instead of $15.95.

And those original titles? Ed Lynskey's long-awaited PI thriller, The Blue Cheer (November), and the first installment of Best New Noir (September), a yearly anthology of crime fiction, edited this time out by Sunshine. Don't know the complete lineup... but I know Al has accepted a story of mine. And one from Dave "Giamatti" White. And I think that Banks guy, too.

I'm very happy about this relaunch, because it means I'll have affordable copies of Secret Dead Men on hand this fall as I venture out to promote The Blonde. The trade paperback edition of The Wheelman drops around the same time, too.

Let's hope that sales are strong enough to keep the reprints coming...