A Thrill of Books

51miDOzhkHL._SX333_BO1,204,203,200_A murder of crows. A quiver of cobras. A charm of finches. A mischief of mice. A tower of giraffes. A scurry of squirrels. To this list of wonderfully evocative group names, I’m adding “a thrill of books.”

When I was young, I used to love coming home from the bookstore or library with an armful of books. I’d study the covers, read the blurbs and acknowledgments, open the book and sample a few words. It was a special thrill, this stack of new worlds that would soon be a part of me. Where would I go? Who would I meet? What challenges would I have to overcome?

The years did their damage, as they always do. Or maybe the culprit wasn’t the passing years, perhaps it was too many trivial stories, too much homogenization of genre, too much corporate policy infringing on the art. For whatever reason, I lost the thrill of having new books to read, and I thought it was gone forever.

I mentioned in my previous blog that I offered to review a few books, and today I received two of them in the mail: Steel Waters and Toxic Shock Syndrome by Ken Coffman. I looked at the covers (okay, I did more than look, I ran my hand over them, savoring the feel of the brand new books). I read the back covers, the acknowledgements, the author’s signature — “To my friend and fellow writer, Pat Bertram. I wish you all the best with your work.”

Already I could feel the glimmer of that old familiar feeling. Then I opened Steel Waters to the middle and saw, “I looked and smelled like a Bolivian sewer rat.” From comments others had made, I knew this was no homogenized piece of corporate bilge, but right then I felt it — the thrill.

So thank you, Ken, for giving me — one more time — a thrill of books.

See also: Pat Bertram Introduces Glen Wilson, Hero of Five Ken Coffman Novels
On Writing: Style and Cadence by Ken Coffman
A Cheapskate Guide to Creating a Publishing Company by Ken Coffman

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

The Book Reviewers’ Lexicon

I seem to have sidled into the book review business. Well, not business exactly, because no one is going to pay me, but a few people asked me to review their books, and I volunteered to review a few others, thinking . . . Who knows what I was thinking — I don’t have the slightest idea of how to review a book.

After having read more than 20,000 books, few seem original to me, fewer captivate my interest. So why do I read? Better to ask why I breathe. Even polluted air is welcome to oxygen-deprived lungs. But that doesn’t help the author who wants a review. “Not quite as polluting as others I’ve read recently” isn’t the most endearing review an author can receive. I considered writing curmudgeonly reviews, but unless they become popular, which would give the author a reverse (or perverse) sort of respect, they could only hurt. And I don’t enjoy bestowing hurt. I also considered using my own rating system, perhaps one Z for every time I fell asleep while reading, so a ZZZZZ rating would be a great book for an insomniac. The problem with such a system is that it would make me seem a) old; b) tired; c) sleep disordered. And that is not the image I am trying to portray.

I am not an effusive person, and I especially can’t gush about a book that barely impinged on my consciousness (or lungs if we keep up the air metaphor). So how can I write a review? By cracking the reviewers’ code. Now I can write an honest review using all the typical buzzwords. For example: when reviewers say a book is funny, what they really mean is that they think it’s funny the book was picked for publishing when their own was rejected. Here are some other words from the reviewers’ lexicon:

Fast-paced — Flipped through the pages at a very fast pace so I could be done with it.

Good read — Like a good feed, a good read goes in one end and out the other with little discomfort.

Page-turner — Couldn’t turn the pages fast enough to get to the end and be done with the torment. (See also fast-paced.)

Side-splittingly funny — I’d rather commit seppuku than read one more strained quip.

Sizzling romance — It really burns me that I wasted my time reading such tripe.

Sharp dialogue — lots of white space on the page making it easy to cut through the trite comments.

Witty — full of remarks so obtuse that you know the writer was trying to be clever though he or she didn’t quite manage it.

So, if I write a review that says a book is a side-splittingly funny page-turner with sharp dialogue and sizzling romance, you will know what I mean.

And if I say simply that I like it, without any effusion, you will know that I mean it.

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Joe R. Lansdale’s Act of Kindness

The generosity of some writers never fails to amaze me. Yesterday I posted a bloggery called “Is Genre Writing an Endangered Species?” I quoted Andrew Vachss’s words from the foreward of the 1995 edition of Joe R. Lansdale’s novel, Act of Love, and today I found the following comment on my blog. I’m presuming it’s partly due to the wonders of Google Alerts, but it’s mostly due to Joe R. Lansdale. An act of kindness. Or an act of promotion. Either way, it impressed me. Joe Lansdale wrote:

Interesting to see Andrew’s kind words again. I have no idea who invented the serial killer novel, but my book has been cited by many as being the beginning of the type of novels that have become such a mainstay. I will also agree that it isn’t a great book. I was young when I wrote it, and I hope you’ll be kind enough to try some of the others, THE BOTTOMS, MUCHO MOJO, LEATHER MAIDEN, etc. But the bottom line is I think it blended a lot of things that are now thought of as the serial killer novel’s back bone. Actually, when I finished that book, I moved on. I’ve written about serial killers since, but never in that way, and never in any way as the heroes of a piece. Genre writing and mainstream writing are welding together, and sometimes in good and interesting ways. But the old fashioned genre writing is disappearing. Maybe it should. All things mutate. LONESOME DOVE was a Western, and a great one. SILENCE OF THE LAMBS is bestselling genre, and so on. It’s there. It won’t die, but it will mutate. As for ACT OF LOVE, I think there may be a thirty year anniversary volume, 2011, and then I retire it. The reason it doesn’t have the impact it had then is now so many people have done what I did, and better than when I did it. But it’s also dated, and probably, at this juncture, my worst novel. But man, I’m glad I wrote it. I’ve been amazed over the years at how many writers have told me it influenced them. Surprising. I was just trying to learn how to write a novel and have a good time at it and maybe discuss a few social issues, if in a superficial way. Anyway, Thanks for the space. Joe Lansdale

Thank you for commenting, Joe. I will definitely check out your other books.

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Is Genre Writing an Endangered Species?

I’m sure you’re all getting sick of me and my comments about the publishing industry, so today I thought I’d let someone else write about it. Andrew Vachss is guest blogging here blog today, though “ghost blogging” would probably be a better word for it. He doesn’t know he’s a guest and might not be happy if he finds out, so don’t be surprised if this post disappears.

I found this bit by Vachss in the foreword of Act of Love by Joe R. Lansdale, which might be the book that started the serial killer genre. (I always thought Thomas Harris started it, but this book predates his by several years.) I wasn’t impressed by the book (sorry Joe and Andrew) but I did find Vachss’s words interesting. He wrote:

Genre writing is an endangered species . . . for all the reasons any species starts to run out of road. Overpopulation, in-breeding, lack of natural predators, limited food supply. Words don’t work as stand-alones; they gather their power from juxtaposition . . . from context, from precision placement. But, in our game, words have become de-valued currency-you can’t count on them anymore. Our field is overdosed with flab: take some gratuitous, implausible violence, throw in some unrealistic sex, splatter some guts and hair on the nearest wall, sprinkle in a touch of mystical reference . . . and you’re walking on the “dark” side.

Sure.

The genres . . . horror, crime, fantasy, whatever . . . all have their built-in places to hide. Write something stupid, it’s a metaphor. Write something mean-spirited and small, it’s satire.

Getting published is pretty easy today. And that’s good. I’m all for an open admissions policy. But the sorting-out phase, the natural, organic process by which the strongest survive . . . that’s not happening. What we have instead is favor-trading, networking, and other sordid forms of insulation from the culling edge of the evolutionary razor. When the awards outnumber the candidates, we’re heading for the Wall. With no breaks and the steering locked.

Remember I told you that the genre market was in trouble? A dragon’s coming soon . . .coming down hard. It’s going to walk through the jungle, clearing out the dead vines with its breath, stomping on those that can’t get out of the way. A hard, cleansing wind is going to blow.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

De-Was-Ing a Manuscript and Other Editing Woes

I’ve spent the past ten days de-was-ing my third manuscript. It’s quite humbling. I think I’m finally getting the hang of writing, then I take on an editing chore like that and discover I still have much to learn.

First, I never knew there was anything wrong with “was.” (See? Wases proliferate when you aren’t paying attention. And what is the plural of was? Wases or wasses?)

Second, I have a hard time finding replacements. Some wases are easy to remove — change from passive to active voice. For example, this “was” was easy to fix: The gun was aimed at the old men. I merely switched to active voice: He aimed the gun at the old men. Eureka! One sentence de-was-ed. Sounds simple? Perhaps. Unless there are a thousand wases. I’ve found as many as a dozen on a single page, though to be fair, I’ve also found a page or two without any wases.

How many wases are acceptable? There is a philosophy of writing/speaking/thinking called E-prime (for English-prime) that says all form of the verb “to be” should be abolished. Nothing exists “out there” independent of a viewer, and all things are in a state of flux. To say the apple was red eliminates the witness, and not all witnesses see the apple as red. Does a color-blind person? Does a cat? Does a bee? Also, to say the apple was red ignores the stages of growth when the apple was green (unripe) or brown (rotten). But to say the apple looked red or some such makes a person/character sound uncertain about their ability to tell the color of the apple.

I’m not going to bore you with a discussion of E-prime (though if you understand E-prime, feel free to bore me; I’d like to understand it better). I just mentioned E-prime as one of the problems of de-was-ing a manuscript. Eliminating all wases seems impossible, yet which to keep? And how do you eliminate was in a sentence such as: He was a lawyer? You can change it to: He worked as a lawyer but that makes him sound as if perhaps he wasn’t really a lawyer. And how do you say: “When I was young, I liked to ride my bike”? Perhaps: “In my youth, I liked to ride my bike.” But few people talk like that, and it makes dialogue seem stilted and unreal.

So, I gradually de-was my manuscript the best way I know how, and hope that the remaining wases don’t detract from the story.

How do you deal with your wases?
What are your editing woes?

The group No Whine, Just Champagne will be discussing was and woes during our Live Chat on Thursday, March 12th at 9:00 p.m. ET. Hope to see you there! If you can’t make it, feel free to discuss them here.

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Today I am a Published Author. I think.

A couple of days ago I noticed that Second Wind Publishing, the company that will be releasing my books, has More Deaths Than One listed for sale as a download on their ebook page. How long had it been there? Did its availability mean that I was a published author?

My books still aren’t available in print form. I know publishing delays are nothing out of the ordinary, but I feel a bit foolish for having frequently announced the imminent publication of More Deaths Than One and A Spark of Heavenly Fire. It seems as if they are always two weeks away from being published. When they are finally released, I am going  throw a huge online “Hallelujah!” party. (You are all invited, of course.)

Which brings me back to the point of this bloggery. I wasn’t sure if having a book available as a download qualified as being published. And if it does, how odd that I didn’t know. Shouldn’t it have been a momentous occasion? Shouldn’t such a milestone have caused a ripple in my life, a change? But no. Here I sat, doggedly de-was-ing another manuscript, not knowing I’d been elevated to published status.

Well, I can now truly say that I am a published author –an online friend bought the ebook.  I received an email from her today. She wrote: “I got the prize! The first Ebook! I want the first book in print too! So see to it that someone sends me one first!”

So, not only am I a published author with one sale to my credit, I received my first fan letter.

Now this is a momentous occasion. I can already feels the ripples.

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The 600-Pound Gorilla in the Publishing Industry

When it comes to small presses today, there is a 600-pound gorilla sitting in the middle of the room, and everyone is trying to ignore it. They point to the pretty pictures on the wall and to the bright new books on the shelves, but there the gorilla sits, filling the place with its heavy breathing and strong animal scent.

What is this gorilla? POD. Print-on-demand. A technology for printing a single book at a time in a matter of minutes. Because of this new printing process, small presses with vision and little capital are able to publish good books that otherwise would never reach a readership. Just a few years ago, a small press would only be able to publish a book or two. They would have to print a thousand or five thousand copies and hope to break even somehow. And of course, they would have to find a place to store them. Now, with new technologies, they can publish many books and have them printed up as needed.

Traditional publishers who still print books the old way — in offset print runs of 5,000 or 20,000 for debut authors — have no advantage over the new presses, except, of course, when it comes to promotion and publicity. They can reach vast numbers of readers. Still, in the end, 25% of all books published this way end up as pulp, so it makes one wonder if they really know what they are doing. The publisher will save a few copies of each, of course, because that way they can keep the rights to the book indefinitely, even after they stop promoting it.

To me, print-on-demand is something to be embraced, not ignored. Small presses should brag that they print as demand requires. As long as the publisher and author agree, the book can be available to the public indefinitely, with no exorbitant upfront printing costs, no storage costs, no unsold books to be pulped.

If one mentions book burning, people get indignant. Books are sacred! One cannot burn books! But who besides me (and the traditional publishers’ accountants) cares about the books that are pulped? No one — it’s an acceptable part of the business, though it shouldn’t be. It’s wasteful and shameful. So you’d think small presses would brag about printing on demand. Instead, they try to hide it.

And there sits the 600-pound gorilla. You can ignore it, but you can’t hide it. The size of the book — trade paperback — is one giveaway. The cost is another. A POD book is more expensive than a traditional paperback (though not much more expensive than other trade paperbacks). That it’s not available in most bookstores is another tell.

A POD book is special — perhaps a book that only a few thousand would love, perhaps a regional story that no one in New York cares about, perhaps a book whose time has not yet come. And every single one of them has been filtered through the publisher’s submissions department, and every single one of them has been accepted on its merits. They are chosen.

Print books are not going to disappear any time soon, but how they are printed will change. POD will become the norm rather than the exception — it’s a much better way to conduct business.

So why the reluctance to admit small presses are POD? Because of the other POD — publish on demand. These POD people will publish anything — for a price. (Some POD companies and vanity presses are owned by the major publishers. A nice scam. But a lucrative one. Why not prey on the millions of authors who want to be published at any cost?) Since I don’t want to incur the wrath of all the self-published authors out there who are doing a good job, I’m going to stop here.

Except to say one more thing.

If one cannot hide the gorilla, change its name.

Since there are two distinct meanings to POD, I suggest calling publish-on-demand PLOD and print-on-demand PROD. That way no one will ever get them confused.

(March is Small Press Month. So, this month, let us pay tribute to all the PROD publishers out there.)

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Writing and Well-Meaning Friends

A friend — another writer — sent me an email, which she said I could post here on my blog. She asked:

How do you resist the efforts of (I hope) well-meaning friends who want to manage your writing career for you?  As an example, a friend of mine happened to see a copy of my novel on the bookshelf while she was over.  Questions arose–How many copies had I sold?  Why wasn’t available locally in the bookshops?  How did I expect to sell millions of copies if it wasn’t marketed?

I tried to explain that writing was an end to itself, and I had no expectations beyond that.  I don’t expect to make any serious money writing, and I don’t want to be well-known, especially in my home town.

She looked at me like I was crazy and then launched into a bunch of suggestions about what I “should” do — like visit the local bookstores and sell my book to them, or have a local autograph/book launch party.

No, no, no.

I’m a private person.  I HATE speaking in front of people I don’t know, or otherwise putting on a show.

And these well-meaning lectures happen all the time.  Basically to the point where I don’t want to tell people what I do anymore.  But my kids or my husband usually chime in–because they are proud of what I have accomplished.  So I am, but I am happy with the level of success I have achieved.

Any thoughts?

My response:

That’s an interesting question. My publisher (Second Wind) is new,  so for now the authors are pretty much on their own for promotion. Many are haunting bookstores, (or trying to get their courage up to do so) trying to line up booksignings, and they can’t see beyond that. But . . . 85% of books in a bookstore sell less than two copies. Most people who go to bookstores buy what they went in for (though they may browse) and usually what they buy is one of the 15%. Most people who impulse buy, buy online. Which makes sense when you think of it. When do people have time to kill? At work. And so they browse the internet.

I totally understand about being a private person. I may have to do a booksigning/talk at the local library (the librarians have been very good about getting me the books I needed) but I have no desire to be a local celebrity. Or a laughingstock.

Nor am I interested in traveling around doing booksignings — you spend more than you can make.

The way I see it, our books are available on the internet. (Or mine will be when I’m finally out of copy-editing hell.) So that’s what any promotion should be geared for.

One of the benefits of being published by a small press is that most do not expect you to become a public person. Most (especially if they publish on demand) are even willing to keep the book on their lists indefinitely, which is good. It takes three years for a book to take hold.

But this does not really answer your question. It just explains why the questioners don’t know what they are talking about.

I don’t know how to answer pushy people. Never have. Maybe the best thing is to put a smile over gritted teeth and say, “I’ll let you know when I do.”

Odd, when you were published as an e-book, you weren’t a real writer. Now that you’re in print, you’re not a real writer because you haven’t sold a million copies. But you know that you are a real writer, a real published writer. And no one can take that away from you.

How would you respond to the author’s question?

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The Wolf’s Side of the Story

I bet you didn’t know the wolf had a story; he’s always been the villain. But is he as black as he’s been portrayed? I just read a marvelous story by Laurie Foston, an American author of science fiction. She posted it in on her blog, and there it sits for all to read. “The Wolf’s Side” by Foston starts out:

They call me the big bad wolf. They have been calling me that forever, since that meanie, “Little Red Riding Hood”, and her grandmother told a story about me that was not true. But, as the old saying goes, “What goes around, comes around!”

I don’t have any reason to tell you a lie. I’m a good wolf.

One beautiful spring day while I was lying in a bed of wild flowers, safely guarding some nearby sheep when I heard a voice call to me.

“Good morning, Wolf!”

I turned my head in the direction of the voice and saw Little Red Riding Hood standing close by holding a basket on her arm. She was covering her face with her hood. I didn’t know why she was doing that then but now I realize she was just trying to hide the smirk on her face.

“Good morning!” I answered. I was honestly glad to see her. I picked a quick bouquet of flowers and put them between my fangs. Then I trotted over to her and dropped them into her basket. I had only the best of intentions.

“Where might you be headed today?” I asked, just to be friendly, of course.

“Oh, my grandmother is pretending to be sick again. So, I have to take her some cakes and honey. My mother told me to go straight to Granny’s house but when I saw you lying there among those flowers, it gave me an idea. I would rather eat these cakes, then lie down and go to sleep.” She said angrily.

How can you not love this story? If you’d like to read the rest of it, you can find it here: The Wolf’s Side.

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A Two-Ton Ice Cream Cone

I am having an online discussion about description based on my article “An Image Fit Only For a Horror Movie.” We’ve been talking about simile and metaphor, and how to create vibrant images. As you know, I’m not fond of similes and metaphors, so I look for the significant detail, the one detail that will give the whole, such as crayon scribbles on a wall to show . . . well, whatever the reader thinks it shows.

Sometimes this significant detail transcends mere description and becomes a metaphor. One participant in the discussion is Bruce DeSilva,  the writing coach at The Associated Press in New York City, whose agent is shopping his first novel, a crime story set in Providence, R.I.  Bruce  told a wonderful story that immediately captured my attention. Bruce wrote: 

In my experience, the best images spring not from the imagination but from careful observation. Let me tell you a story.

Several years ago, I went for a walk with a young reporter I was thinking of hiring. As we strolled through Times Square, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and said: “That’s amazing!”

What was? I didn’t see anything.

I watched as he whipped out his digital camera and started snapping pictures of a six-foot-tall, two-ton, concrete ice cream cone, painted up pretty, standing on the sidewalk in front of an ice cream parlor.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What’s amazing about that?”

“Bruce,” he said, his tone indicating he was disappointed in me. “Look at it!”

“I’m looking,” I said, ” but I still don’t get it.”

“Bruce,” he said, “it’s chained to the wall. We live in a city where you have to chain a six-foot-tall, two-ton ice cream cone to a wall so no one will steal it.”

Well, yeah. That was amazing.

But how many millions of people, me included, had walked passed it without ever noticing the chain, or, more importantly, what the chain represented?

You don’t see the chain unless you are a careful observer, and it takes a poet’s sensibility to make the leap from the chain to what it represents.

We never did write a story that used the ice cream cone as a symbol of crime in our city — but we could have.

I hired the young man on the spot.

See? Significant detail and metaphor all rolled into one. If you are on Facebook and would like to participate in the discussion, feel free to stop by the Suspense/Thriller Writers group discussion.

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