Hey, There's A Dead Guy....

Lynne Patrick

I like to get my weekly post up and running first thing on a Wednesday morning, but I’m running late today, mainly because things began to happen the moment I opened up the office and switched on the computer this morning, and I don’t seem to have stopped answering e-mails ever since.

The reason is I’ve started to put the word out about Criminal Tendencies, the anthology we’re bringing out next spring in support of a breast cancer charity. And people are being amazing.

I’ve discovered over and over again in the past five years that crime writers are thoroughly nice people. I’ve met a lot of writers over the years, and in general, I’ve always found they’re pretty much the same mix as the rest of the human race: most are great, some have an undeservedly high opinion of themselves, a few are not very nice at all. But crime writers… So far I haven’t met one I didn’t like. Maybe it’s that they put all the nasty stuff into their work? Who knows?

What I do know is that over the past couple of days I’ve asked everyone who has contributed a story to Criminal Tendencies if they’ll help promote it when it comes out. And so far every single one has answered yes, bring it on. They’ve offered to distribute leaflets in the UK and US, (one has even talked her son into printing them for free!), share their own experiences of breast cancer with the media, give themselves writers’ cramp signing copies, mention the anthology in radio interviews intended to promote their own book…

As I said, thoroughly nice people.

What I need now are some imaginative marketing ideas. We’ve no more money to put behind Criminal Tendencies than any of our other titles; imagination is our prime marketing tool. For all twenty-six authors in the book it’s a key component of the talent they all possess in abundance: the magnifying glass through which they filter that essential spark and turn it into a great roaring blaze of story, which takes on a life of its own and sometimes runs out of control. For me, it’s what can we do this time that’s new and different? How can we convince this magazine editor or that radio producer that we’ve got something that will add sparkle to their books page or popular culture slot?

Or the other side of the marketing coin: how do we make the book stay in people’s minds long enough to get them to the till with a copy in their hands?

This time it matters even more than usual, because there’s so much at stake. Breast cancer has affected just about everyone I know in one way or another. Most women, and not a few men, know someone who has had it. Two of my closest friends are survivors; we heard the other day of a family member who unfortunately wasn’t.

So come on, imagination, do your stuff.

I know that if I sit and stare at the screen for long enough, an idea or two will begin to develop. But how many hours can I actually afford to spend doing that? Answer: about as many as an author who has a new book to write and a family and often a day job (not to mention Christmas – aaaaargh, the C-word!) to fit in as well.

It’s already starting to happen. The spark has ignited. We have a major bookshop chain on board, with a six-week promotion. And Crème de la Crime’s charity anthology will be next spring’s must-have, must-read, must-talk-about hit.

You never know. This time it may just happen.

Janet Reid

Bonjour! Ca va? Avez-vous eu un bon week-end? Avez-vous manger trop? Ce que la vache sauter par-dessus la lune?

If, like me, you've squandered away some hours in French classes you can probably piece your way through the first four sentences above.  Hello! How are you? Did you have a nice weekend? Did you eat too much?

It's that fifth sentence. You recognize the words, but suddenly, you're not on firm ground about what they mean: The something sauteed the moon?  What the hell does that mean?

I was recently reminded of what it's like to parse out meaning in an unfamiliar language when I found myself explaining "publication date" does not mean the date the books come off the printing press.  "Pub date" is used among us Book Language speakers to mean the day the book is available for sale in stores. In other words, off the press, out of the warehouse, out of receiving and on the shelves.  You can intuit there might be a gap of four to six weeks between "published" off the press and "published and available for sale."

Mais, sacre bleu, how would anyone know that? Until you learn Book Language publishing is a foreign country. Like France. And like planning a trip to Paris, becoming acquainted with the publishing industry has stages. 

The first stage is you fall in love and want to go there. You love to read. You love to write, you want to be a writer.  Everything about writing and reading sounds great. Then you find out that people might actually pay you to do this, and sacre bleu, the vache saute sur la lune! (the cow jumps over the moon!)

Then you save up money for a ticket.  If you're a writer this means you spend some time learning how to write. High school, college, critique groups.  Some people are born knowing how to do this; some people have trust funds to pay for a ticket. Not many, not most. Probably not you. 

Then you decide where to go. You get a map.  This is when you write a novel.  You decide what you're going to write, and get it all down. An itinerary.

Then you book the plane tickets.  You query an agent. It helps if you know the difference between "business class" and "economy red eye" and "multiple stops" and "non stop" when you talk to the travel agent, but a good agent helps you sort out all that stuff, and helps you figure out what you can afford. And helps you get there.

And then you arrive, and you're published.  And you're standing there at Charles DeGaulle airport, valise in hand, and Sacre Bleu, what the HELL just happened here!  They're all speaking French! They're speaking French very FAST! And they are annoyed as hell that you are blocking the sidewalk, taking up space, speaking English, and looking clueless.

Even the French who work in tourist dependent industries are known to loathe the people who make their industry possible. Particularly if they don't speak the language. And more so if they don't even try.  As you might imagine, there are days I feel their pain. Why don't these people know what pub date means? How can you possibly think we will be doing just one more revision on a book that's been sent to the printer?

So, how do you learn about France before you go?  How do you learn Book Language before you're there?  Immersion. And one of the best ways to immerse yourself these days is simply read the blogs of people in the industry. There is an extraordinary wealth of information on the web about how publishing works. What pub date means. What SASE means. What "returns" mean.  What "literary agent from hell" means. 

I'm re-learning to sew right now.  I haven't had a class in sewing since 8th grade Home Ec, and that was more years ago than I care to reveal thank you.  Fabrics, machines, styles have ALL changed.  Yes I can sew a straight seam, and I know what a pattern is but after that, I count myself a novice.

It's been a bountiful education to discover sewing blogs. People who sew and write about what they made, what worked, what didn't, what patterns had instructions that made no sense, and what they did instead.  Those blogs are an extraordinary resource as I start out not knowing much other than "I want to sew a dress."

The only thing that makes it possible to read these blogs rather then keep thinking "I should be reading these blogs but I don't ever remember to" is GoogleReader.  I mentioned GoogleReader last week, and I'm back on the soapbox about it again.  

GoogleReader keeps track of all the blogs I've subscribed to. It tells me when the blogs have new posts. It lets me mark ones I want to re-read, ones I'm done reading, and best of all it has a suggestion feature. Based on what I've subscribed to already, it suggests other blogs.  If you're  starting out and just learning the lay of the land, this is invaluable. It's how I found at least six of my favorite sewing blogs (and I've found some amazing book blogs and reconnected with some old favorites as well.)

To get to google reader, go to google and type "google reader" in the search box. If you don't have a google account it will prompt you to create one. Once you're at the google reader site, there's a button that says "add subscription".  You can start by adding this blog. And my blog at jetreidliterary.blogspot.com

I subscribe to 117 blogs right now.  I don't read 117 every day. I don't have to remember to click on 117 every day. But when one of my favorite new friends The Abbeville Manual of Style has a rousing new battle with their formidably orange opponent The Chicago Manual of Style, I'm there! 

Or as they say in France: Aux armes, citoyens Formez vos bataillons, Marchons, marchons!

Jeff Cohen

Ever since Houghton Mifflin announced that it was placing a freeze on acquisitions, people have been tolling the death knell of publishing.  Books are dying, nobody has any money, yada yada yada.  OK, it's true that this is not a great season, and numbers are down all over...but I think books will stick around a while longer.

Houghton Mifflin's announcement was unusual, but what they're doing isn't actually so earth-shattering.  When times get tight, sales decline, and everyone looks at her submission pile with a gimlet eye.  Houghton hastily amended its initial statement to explain that it would still pursue truly special projects.  So essentially, their editors will still acquire manuscripts that are really good...which is what we all strive to do anyway.  I doubt that any houses are buying so-so books just to fill slots these days--we're all holding out for the best of the best, because it's so tough to make any book work in the marketplace.

Same with bookstores; despite closures and reductions in stock, many people still buy books.  And hey, maybe the current economic slump will give a boost to paperbacks, since they're cheaper.  Maybe the Kindle will get people to try more titles, since it's so easy to download on the go--I know I buy more music now that I use iTunes.  But all in all, I think it's too early to be bringing down the curtain on book publishing as we know it.  Sure, this Christmas may be a little thin, but I bet there'll still be books under the tree.

Too many would-be writers are looking at recent events as some sort of indication that they missed their chance to be a published author.  Trust me, you haven't.  Because there isn't just one chance, and you only control part of it--by writing a terrific book.  If you do your part, the "chance" will be there when you're ready for it, tumbling stock market or no.  So take a deep breath, get back to the computer, and finish your book.  I'm pretty sure we'll still be here to read it when it's ready. 

Robin Agnew

I know this portion of the blog is by me, about me, but usually it's more about my business, something that in a way I can hold at a comfortable remove.  It's about the store or about books I really like, not about me per se.  But I have something coming up this week I need to write about, as it's an exciting opportunity and at the very least a memorable weekend for me, my mother and sister.

I have always been a painter, just as many people have always been writers, published or not.  Many years ago I sold my watercolors at art fairs around the state, but then I had a second baby and we opened the store and painting fell by the wayside.  I never actually stopped painting, though for a few years I switched to colored pencil on the advice of a fellow artist who told me that's what he did when his children were small.

Over the years I was able to keep my hand in a bit - a friend for awhile owned her own ad agency in Mississippi, and we did some really fun projects together, notably for a lovely (now closed) heirloom sewing store called The Corner Stitch.  Jim Huang has been nice enough to allow me to do a few book covers for him, which has also been fun.  I also just kept on painting, sending out samples to greeting card companies and print companies and getting some nice responses - even a phone call once - but no offers.

So, this fall, turning 50 felt like time to maybe give this up.  I was going to visit my mother for the weekend and a friend of hers wanted some paintings to give as gifts - I was at the point where I was ready to give them away to someone who would enjoy them.  I took my portfolio up north with me, and my mother intercepted it.  She said she loved them and wanted to show them to a friend of hers.  To tell the truth, I forgot about it, as my expectations had become fairly low.

Imagine my surprise when I got a phone call a few weeks later and found that her friend was married to a gallery owner in New York - and he liked them so much he wanted to put them in a show!  So, next Thursday, December 4, my watercolors will be on display at Michael Steinberg Fine Arts in New York.  It's a show of contemporary women artists who work on paper - I'm filling the representational slot.  The show is called "Back to the Drawing Board".  I'm not sure how my paintings of rabbits wearing shoes are going to fit, but along with my mother and sister, I'm looking forward to finding out.  If you're in New York the month of December, doing a little gallery hopping, check it out yourself - and wish me luck!

Sharon Wheeler

I'm feeling whiny and sorry for myself, as I've been laid up for nearly a fortnight with a very grotty violence that has left me feeling like a woolly mammoth is sitting on my head and digging its tusks in . . .

And any smart-alec who says "oh, you must have caught up on soooo much reading" will need to side-step a jab in the ribs. I must be ill – I haven't wanted to read at all.

So I've been keeping in contact with the outside world via online and Teletext. And I spotted this story that made me very faintly nostalgic – if only for the memory of their pick and mix, which we always had as kids when we went to the cinema.

My first Saturday job when I was at school was in Woolworth's. I did my stint on the tills, including a ghastly Christmas Eve when the whole of town seemed to want to do their festive shopping at 5pm, but the cold meat and cheese counter and the staff canteen were the placements from hell. The former undoubtedly helped along my becoming a vegetarian, and I soon discovered with the latter that Woolie's staff were far more obnoxious that any of the customers. I never went as far as spitting in the food, but I kept schtum when I grated part of my fingernail into the cheese for the lunchtime salad . . .

The positively Victorian hierarchy between the mainly male management and mostly female shop floor staff was immensely depressing, so you couldn't see me for dust when I was offered a Saturday job in the town library.

I acquired so many useful skills through that library job. I now know where to look for information. I can break up fights (and that was just between two eccentric members of staff, although getting between battling OAPs and the new Catherine Cookson book should have involved danger money). I can prick the pomposity of any celebrity (we had one particular 1970s TV personality who wasn't in fact the avuncular old cove he seemed on the small screen and had a tendency to use the "don't you know who I am?" line to which the response was "no, and your book's overdue, so that'll be 25p please.") And I can arrange books just so on a shelf so that they come raining down on people's heads when they remove one.

The biggest perk of all, of course, was being able to take out as many books as we wanted. And we could convince ourselves that we were doing the librarian a favour, as the place was so over-crowded that you couldn't fit all the books onto the shelves. Mind you, I'll never forget the look on her face when half a dozen of the Saturday girls all returned about 30 books each the weekend after our A Level exams had ended. Sadly she got her revenge when we had to shelve them all …

Lynne Patrick

Credit crunch, recession, call it what you will: I don’t suppose any of us will emerge unscathed. But, with fingers firmly crossed and all propitiating gestures in place, I think maybe we won’t fare as badly as some, largely because we don’t borrow scary sums of money from banks which no longer have it to lend; and also because we don’t deal in big numbers, and may be able to duck under the darkest of the clouds. I realise I’m tempting fate just by thinking this, but, well, I try to be positive.

But other bits of the book trade aren’t in quite such good shape, and we have to consider how their problems will affect us.

I’m not a great follower of the financial markets – I’m a words person, and numbers don’t come easy to me. But even I can see when share prices go down, and down, and even further down. We don’t have share prices of our own, not in that way, but it’s interesting to see how other publishers are faring. Mostly it looks as if the bigger they are, the bigger the fall. We’re small. So a point in our favour, I think.

Bookshops, at the sharp end of retailing, should be catching the worst of it. But my local Waterstone’s had a long queue at the till when I called in the other day; and though their parent company, HMV, are showing a fall in share prices they seem to be doing OK. My theory about people buying themselves small treats (a bar of chocolate or a book) instead of a large one (a new dress or a weekend break) seems to be holding.

Maybe the biggest black cloud so far is that one of the UK’s two big book wholesalers is catching the backlash as its parent company, Woolworths, struggles for air. Ironically, the wholesaler is probably the healthiest part of the vast organisation it belongs to, but when there’s trouble at root level it can’t help but filter into the branches, even the smaller ones which are still producing fruit.

The problem is that they are main suppliers to a lot of bookshops, including the chains. They’re not the only source of supply, of course; the shops have at least two other options. But shops, especially chains,have procedures laid down. If a situation arises which means a bookseller can’t simply make one phone call to order a book, it’s possible that this close to Christmas they won’t take the trouble to look elsewhere.

Fortunately we don’t rely on big Christmas sales the way many of our larger competitors do, so if we do lose a few sales, it will only be a few. Another point in our favour. And looking further ahead: if that wholesaler really is the healthiest part of an ailing conglomerate, it will survive in one form or another.

OK, so I’m an incurable optimist. But maybe I have cause. Unlike the big financial institutions whose strange attitude to the issue of debt has to be at the root of all the problems (I’m at a loss to understand how you can lend more than you actually have); and unlike a whole lot of ordinary people for whom spending to the limit of a dozen credit cards is a way of life, I’ve always tried to live within my means – to earn a pound and spend ninety-nine pence, in a paraphrase of the Micawber principle. And I’m really not being smug or sanctimonious.

It’s just that living any other way is so unutterably scary that I wouldn’t dare.

Janet Reid

I'm thankful for Jeff Cohen who invited me to be a part of this blog and gave me the opportunity to talk about things that mean a lot to me, and the book publishing industry which I love beyond reason.  

Jeff Cohen

Abby Zidle

The holidays are almost upon us, and although my initial reaction is guilty panic ("Eek! How is it almost December?" "Gah! I've done no Christmas shopping." "Frink! I still have four books to edit before the end of the year."), I do look forward to a few days' vacation unsullied by editorial guilt.  Sometimes I even get to read books that already have the covers attached.

I have a big "To Be Read" stack at home, as does everyone I know.  Here are a few of the books I'm still hoping to get to...one of these days.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
I'm probably the only person who hasn't read this yet, even though a friend gave it to me...yikes, a year ago?  It seems to engender extreme reactions in everyone who has read it--either they love it or they hate it--so I look forward to discovering into which camp I fall.

The Fire by Katherine Neville
Katherine Neville wrote one of my favorite books ever, The Eight.  It's probably 20 years old by now, a wonderful thriller with puzzles about music and mathematics with chase scenes and a chess set that belonged to Charlemagne.  So when I saw that she'd written a new book, I immediately commenced the groveling process with a friend of mine, and procured a galley.  Have I had time to read it yet? No.  I suck.

The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen
I read Allen's debut novel, Garden Spells, on a long car trip--it was compelling enough to distract me from my husband's terrifying driving, which is saying something.  So I jumped on her next book...but I managed to read three pages and then had to set it down.  It's still on the list to be picked back up.

I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley
OK, I at least got through part of this one--but considering it's a collection of comic essays, that's not saying much.  And they're good!  I laughed!  I identified!  But...I didn't finish yet.

This is just a little of what I'm not keeping up with.  I could also have done posts on What Clothes I'm Not Laundering, What Rooms I'm Not Vacuuming, or What Calories I'm Not Burning at the Gym.  (Heck, I think I might have found my next blog...)

Robin Agnew

Lots of times I see determination in the relentless, and optimistic, marketing efforts of authors.  (Last week we got a wooden box with the book cover on it, inside, a scarf, sunglasses, a postcard and temporary tattoos).  As I look around the store I see many of the cool posters made from book covers that we have been sent over the years. My favorite at the moment is the one for Megan Abbot’s THE SONG IS YOU.   I see determination in the store owners around me, who are determined (as are we) to outlast this dreadful downturn.  And last weekend, I saw determination in another place.

As I think I’ve mentioned in the past on this blog, I am a giant figure skating fan.  Since ABC dropped figure skating coverage it was picked up by NBC – who are only broadcasting three events out of a long season.  (That’s like watching the Super Bowl without all the games leading up to it).  If you want to see some skating, you have to go online.  It has some advantages – it’s live, and if you don’t want to watch the

3 a.m.

Sometimes I pick & choose and don’t watch EVERY discipline, depending on which athletes are there, and I had skipped the pairs competition in

Paris

It started beautifully – and then (and I’m surprised this doesn’t happen more often) Buntin cut his hand on Duhamel’s skate blade as they were doing a fairly routine side by side spin.  Blood dripping from his fingers, they skated to the judge’s table, where they were given two minutes to get it fixed up and complete their program. 

A competent woman came out and bandaged Buntin up and, shaking his hand (this is the hand he uses to throw his partner and lift her over his head) they took a minute to pick up their music where they’d left off and finished their program, mistake free.  Meaghan’s dress had blood all over it but they ended up in second place for their free skate, only behind the defending world champions.  That’s determination. 

It’s also been my inspiration for the week.  And hopefully Meaghan will be able to clean the blood out of her dress!

PJ Nunn

Since I've been moving these last couple weeks and still have boxes piled high, not to mention the phone man working here today, drilling and making other obnoxious noises, I thought I'd pull from my list of favorite quotes that seem to apply to this biz we're in and share them with you.

“Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.”

Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)

“Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless.”

Thomas A. Edison (1847 - 1931)

"Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right, or doing it better."
-John Updike

"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a little better; whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is the meaning of success."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The problem is not that there are problems. The problem is expecting otherwise and thinking that having problems is a problem."
-Theodore Rubin

"The best way to escape from a problem is to solve it."
-Alan Saporta

“Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.”

-Kurt Vonnegut

"You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions."
-Mahfouz Naguib

"Hold yourself responsible for a higher standard than anybody expects of you. Never excuse yourself."
-Henry Ward Beecher

"The majority of men meet with failure because of their lack of persistence in creating new plans to take the place of those which fail."
- Napoleon Hill

"The indispensable first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: decide what you want."

–       Ben Stein

Maybe you have one you'd like to share?

Till next week,

Gordon Aalborg ... filling in for Sharon Wheeler.

Advice, 'tis often said, usually is worth about what you pay for it.

Which means I am not charging enough. Or explains why nobody ever listens to Gordo.

New and aspiring authors, it is a known fact, thrive on advice. They seek it here, they seek it there, they seek the shortcuts everywhere. They collect advice, swap it around like baseball cards, analyze it, dissect it, translate it, bend and form it to suit - and usually, in the end, ignore it.

Because, I often think, following genuinely *good* advice is just too easy. It is simple, and our minds trick us into believing that if it sounds that simple, it cannot be true, cannot be real.

I give you, just an example, my oft-quoted *Advice From the Bottom Drawer* - which I dispense often, and for FREE, to those {surprisingly many} knowledge-seekers who have finished their first book and now want to know what to do with it. 

1    MAKE SURE IT IS SPELL-CHECKED, PROOFED, AND PERFECT IN YOUR EYES. AS GOOD AS IT CAN BE!

2    PUT IT AWAY IN A BOTTOM DRAWER SOMEPLACE AND LEAVE IT THERE WHILE YOU WRITE YOUR *NEXT* BOOK, AND...

3    ONLY WHEN THE SECOND BOOK IS FINISHED AND PERFECT IN YOUR EYES IS IT TIME TO TAKE THAT FIRST BOOK OUT OF THE DRAWER, RE-READ IT, AND -- IF YOU HAVE ANY SENSE AT ALL -- REWRITE IT IN THE MANNER WHICH IT DEMANDS OF YOU. AS IT WILL, OR AT LEAST SHOULD.

4    THEN, AND ONLY THEN, SEND IT TO ME {WITH MONEY} AND I WILL TELL YOU WHY YOU NEED GLASSES, OR NEW GLASSES, OR A NEW EDITOR.

5    MEANWHILE, PLEASE LAUNCH INTO THE WRITING OF YOUR THIRD BOOK, BECAUSE YOUR SECOND BOOK MUST MATURE JUST LIKE THE FIRST ONE DID, AND THAT TAKES TIME!

I had occasion recently to evaluate a second novel from one of *my* authors, and was suitably impressed except for one aspect of the tale. So I sent her an email, asking that she give the ms a quick read-through -- "and when you're done, tell me please, briefly, how YOU feel about X as a person. Gut reaction, please, just your *feelings* - do you like her, feel sorry for her, hate her, commisserate with her, think she's a bit of a whinger, do you trust her, ...etc."

I made this request *knowing* she hadn't read this ms in quite a long time, and hoping she would see in her own work what I had seen, which was a less than sympathetic major character whom the reader was supposed to *like* - not loathe and despise and want murdered on the next page if not sooner.

As my author, not surprisingly, did - at least in part: "Especially in the first chapters, she makes such a big deal out of little things. I wanted to tell her to grow up and deal with life. I got impatient with her little nit-picking ways." And: "I felt like I was reading about a little teenage girl and not a grown woman." 

The result, for my author, was a fair amount of work: "I wrote a new first chapter and drastically re-vamped the next three. X is infinitely more heroic, compassionate and courageous and far less of a whining pansy."

And a far better book, in the end! As it would have been, without my help, if my hapless author had only followed - in the first place - my advice from the bottom drawer.

What a splendid result! What splendid advice, come to think of it. And before you ask, Matilda, the answer is, "No. I do not follow my own advice. I don't have time and because, at that price, how good could it be?"

Lynne Patrick

There’s an interesting phenomenon in the world of British reality TV at the moment. Not that I watch reality TV. Not much, anyway. But I think Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing With the Stars in the US) scrapes in there, and to that I confess I’m addicted.

The phenomenon I have in mind relates to pleasing the audience instead of the pundits; doing it entertainingly rather than skilfully; enjoyment over high cultural value.

(Do I hear a chorus of what the heck’s she talking about? from across the Atlantic? Hang in there; all is about to be revealed.)

A small, twinkly, tubby man with the proverbial two left feet, no sense of rhythm and immense charm has survived to week ten of the current series of Strictly Come Dancing by virtue of one simple fact: the viewers love him.

The judges are so rude about him that a lesser man would be reduced to floods of tears. Fortunately John Sergeant is not a lesser man; he has more guts, chutzpah and layers of skin than Len, Bruno, Arlene and Craig put together; as the BBC’s former political editor he probably needed them all, and he didn’t shed them when he retired.

Public opinion views him quite differently.

Every Saturday evening John and his amazingly talented dancing partner Kristina Rihanoff garner a measly handful of points from the four ‘experts’ – and every week the viewers’ votes snatch them firmly away from the dreaded dance-off. The lower the score and the more vitriolic the comments, the more votes they get. Last week the four judges seemed to get the message; the comments were milder, the scores less abysmal – but the viewers were wise to them, and saved the unlikely couple anyway. This week I have an awful feeling they’ll be doing the jive. John and the jive were never meant to exist on the same planet. But I'm willing to bet it will be business as usual.

All of this begs the question, what price 'expert' opinion? And who are the real experts anyway?

How often does a West End or Broadway show turn out to be the hit of the season –  after the critics have poured loathing on it?

And perhaps more relevant to my own audience, how many critically acclaimed, even award winning books make it to the top of the bestsellers? I can think of half a dozen names of people the pundits load with praise. But when I look at the top ten sellers in the weekend papers, it’s Danielle Steele, James Patterson, Jeffrey Archer, or some other shining star who is loved by the public but despised by the posh media.

Sometimes we need, with great regret, to let an author go, for the simple reason that his or her books haven’t sold well enough. Quality, whatever that means, has nothing at all to do with it; it’s all about capturing the public imagination.

John Sergeant has certainly done that.

If he could distil and bottle whatever he uses to achieve it, I’d buy a case a week.

Today is the first of a year of Tuesdays  I'm not going anywhere. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it.  I've been gone 20 of the last 60 days with travel and attendance at writing conferences and Bouchercon.

Jeff Cohen

Abby Zidle

OK, people, seriously now.  Just when I think blogs like this have finally eradicated the aspiring writer's urge to get "creative" with correspondence...something shows up in the mailbox to prove me wrong.  This time, it was an invitation--to a funeral.

My assistant brought in my mail the other day, and handed me an envelope with elaborate calligraphy on it, and a kiss stamp on the flap (as opposed to a KISS stamp, which I suppose would actually be a tongue).  It looked like a wedding invitation, but I think I'm finally out of friends who have yet to get married, so I couldn't imagine who it was from.  Opening the envelope, I saw that inside was, indeed, a formal invitation, complete with engraving, RSVP card, even the little piece of tissue paper that comes with such things.  This was nicer than my wedding invitations!

The invitation read as follows: " [Author's name redacted to protect the regrettable] invites you to attend the funeral for her failed novel [Title likewise]" and was followed by a date/time/place, and a website for more information.  Reading the title, I realized that I knew this book...I had seen this book, and indeed, rejected it.  But as I recalled, it hadn't come from the author, it had come from an agent, and I'd passed accordingly.  So what was this?  Was the author asking me to reconsider? Was there really a party?  Did their agent come up with this idea?

I was perplexed and annoyed--why was I having to expend all this mental energy on something I'd already dealt with through traditional channels?  What was the joke?  So I caved--I clicked on the website.  This author had designed an entire site (nicely done, I must admit) as a companion to her upcoming "funeral."  It included information about the book, the author, and the party.  It also pointed out that it had been rejected by sixteen different editors (rejections quoted on the site), and that the author did not intend to write another book--her vision of being a published author was declared dead, and we were invited (yes, she invited all the editors who rejected her) to celebrate.

I get that the author was trying to turn lemons into lemonade, and maybe to create a media event--perhaps if she built up some buzz, her book could get another shot.  But oh my best beloveds, listen well.  This author failed to understand her audience, and is paying the price for it.  She thought, in sending these invitations to editors who'd already rejected her, that she was presenting herself as Tireless Self-Promoter, and thus might cause us to reconsider.  But she came off to me as Loose Cannon--not someone I want to work with.  And not only was she damaging her own reputation, but she risked tarnishing her agent's, as well.  (As it happens, I called the agent and asked, "Um, did you know about this?" Turns out they'd parted company, surprise surprise.)

Look, if you want to take a depressing stack of rejections and have a bonfire party, that's great.  Invite your friends, your family, a host of oiled men with palm fronds, whatever you want.  But such a party is a personal, emotional event, and should be kept separate from business.  To me, it's not cute, it's not funny--it's passive-aggressive.  And it ensures that not only won't I reconsider this project, but I'll know better than to work with you in future.  But hey, do whatever you want--it's your funeral.

Robin Agnew

For me, November is the blah month of bookselling, usually until after Thanksgiving.  The weather takes a turn for the worse - the days are grey and it gets dark early - and this year, the economy is so stinky not too many people are shopping.  If they are they tend to ask how much they can get for the book they are buying when they bring it back for store credit.  This November is no different.

Because I'm not anticipating big Christmas sales this year (is anybody?) I did things on Thursday like respond to an e-mail from a publisher asking what the heck we were doing to stay afloat.  This e-mail wasn't addressed just to me, but to the slew of bookstores our particular rep for that particular publisher covers.

I also talked to a guy who wanted to rent 100 square feet of our space for $500 a month.  It sounded somewhat attractive though we're a bit squeezed for space as it is, but then I found out he had tried the same thing with another store and then backed out of it.  In this present economy, though, the Dr. Zhivago scenario of splitting up everyone's space, living and business wise, doesn't seem so far fetched.

I also took some of those old books I talked about last week that have sensational covers (I don't think cover art is as great as it used to be, and definitely not as deliciously colorful) but were falling apart and made greeting cards out of them.  Using a color xerox machine I'll have an endless supply and so far people seem to like them.  They are simple & fairly cheap to make.

Today it's raining, there's a football game (would YOU want to sit out in the rain for 3 hours?  Not me), and I don't have high hopes.  I do think our used books will carry us through this present economic downturn, as will being proactive in every way possible.   The thing that keeps me going are the terrific books I get to read.  It's a grey rainy day, as I mentioned - perfect for reading a good book!

Deni Dietz

My mystery novel EYE OF NEWT stars a "reluctant witch." The book goes back and forth between the present and 1692 Salem: "Practical Magic meets The Crucible." I then decided to write a crime fiction story starring a vampire. Having never met one face-to-face, I knew I had some intense research to do, and somehow I didn't think Google would fly. So I looked up Vampires in the Yellow Pages. It took 3 phone calls, after midnight, but I finally found one who was willing to talk to me.

Deni: Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me, Mr...what do I call you?

Vampire: Rice. My name is Rice.

Deni: Like, Anne Rice?

Vampire: Never heard of her. My name is Rex Rice, but most people just call me Rice.

Deni: Okay, um, Rice. Thanks again. I really do appreciate it.

Vampire: You're velcome. I'm glad you're a redhead. I love the color red.

Deni: Yes, well (looking down at notes), where are you from?

Vamp: California. But I'm always looking for new locales. I visited Salem's Lot once. Didn't like it.

Deni: Whoa. Wait. You're not from Transylvania?

Vamp: Never heard of the place.

Deni: I've read about vampires, of course, and seen movies. But I had no idea they ... you ... looked so ... well, normal. You could be the bachelor on one of those bachelor TV shows, especially with that chest. Do you wax it?

Vamp: I do.

Deni: And your dimples are to die for. I mean, live for.

Vamp: Thank you. Out of curiosity, vhat do you write?

Deni: Historical romances as Mary Ellen Dennis and crime fiction as Denise Dietz. I was thinking about creating a vampire detective. Why are you shaking your head?

Vamp: It wouldn't vork, unless he vorked the night shift. Or if he only vorked on cloudy days. Maybe if he lived in a Lincoln Continental. With tinted windows.

Deni: How about a vampire cop?

Vamp: Same problem.

Deni: I see your point. No offense. I mean, your fangs and all.

Vamp: Freudian slip. Happens all the time.

Deni: How about sunscreen? Maybe I could concoct a special, secret, government sunscreen, a la Dean Koontz.

Vamp: Sunscreen might vork, or maybe Mime makeup. If a Mime fell in the forest, would anyone know? (laughs) Do you have a title for your story?

Deni: I was thinking of calling it 'The Vampire Wore Prada,' but now I'm thinking 'The Lincoln Vampire' might fly.

Vamp: Yes.

Deni: Yes, vhat? I mean, what?

Vamp: I thought you were asking if I could fly. The answer is yes.

Deni: That's good to know. It could be an important plot element. Do you change into a bat, first?

Vamp: You've been vatching too much TV. Or too many Bela Lugosi movies. Vy vould I vant to be a bat? All that guano. Ick.

Deni: Sorry. I don't usually stereotype. So, no detective protagonist and no cop. What, exactly would you like to be?

Vamp: Your perp.

Deni: Perp? How do you know that word?

Vamp: Vhat? You think vampires can't read? Some of my best friends are librarians.

Deni: If you were my perp, who ... whom would you kill?

Vampire: Stephen King.

Anyone in the market for a story called THE VAMPIRE WORE SUNSCREEN?

Sharon Wheeler

I’ve been a sports writer – I know all about clichés, thank you. It’s a game of two halves, Brian, but at the end of the day the lads gave 110 per cent but I’m sick as a parrot that we didn’t sneak it early doors.

And now I’m peeved that I didn’t come up first with the idea for a book of irritating phrases! Researchers at Oxford University have put together the wonderfully-named Damp Squid, the result of monitoring books, papers, magazines, broadcast and the internet.

Apparently the top ten stinkers are as follows:

1. At the end of the day
2. Fairly unique
3. I personally
4. At this moment in time
5. With all due respect
6. Absolutely
7. It's a nightmare
8. Shouldn't of
9. 24/7
10. It's not rocket science

Yep, can’t disagree with most of those. Although I admit to using number six (usually with bloody in the middle of it for added emphasis) and I just stopped myself from using the last one in a lecture on Monday.

Numbers two and eight bring out my big grammar stick, and with number five I usually have to resist the temptation to jab the speaker on the nose, as you just know that the dreaded phrase presages something rude or snotty . . .

Incidentally, I found out not so long ago what rocket science is. Apparently where there’s a push, there’s got to be a pull. So maybe it’s not so complicated after all! Given the difficulties I’m having at the moment persuading some of my students to read theoretical textbooks (if any of them are reading this, You Know Who You Are!), maybe the phrase should become ‘it’s not print journalism.’

Speaking of which, I’m going to blame broadcasting for most of these horrors, rather than newspapers, magazines and the internet. You hear these phrases being trotted out, and they stick in people’s minds. And it’s a mix of the sound-bite generation, wanting to sum things up in a phrase, and people being interviewed wanting to sound important in front of the cameras (why else would you keep parroting something like “I personally, at this moment in time …”) If you’re ever interviewed for any part of the media, then remember the old KISS theory – keep it simple, stupid!

I assume this research from Oxford University is continuing, and no doubt in a couple of years’ time there will be some text message and email clichés to annoy us. I’d like to insist that the very wonderful OMGWTFBBQ is exempt from any list. Thanks to Live Journal, this is now my new expression of surprise. And at the end of the day, you’ve got to admit it’s fairly unique.

Lynne Patrick

A long time ago someone introduced me to the Pending Tray Theory. It goes like this:

Every project and task that lands on your desk goes straight into the pending tray. The ones that really matter float to the top; people hassle you for them, a deadline approaches (or passes), or somehow they demand attention and you deal with them. Everything else sinks to the bottom, and either wasn’t that important in the first place or isn’t missed if it doesn’t get done.

Well, it’s a point of view. I suspect it’s the way a lot of people work. If I’m honest, I do a lot of it myself.

The flaw in the system, two flaws in fact, is that urgent stuff gets priority, and everything is urgent when it first comes up; and urgent isn’t always the same as important.

So sometimes you need something to focus on, to translate important  into urgent.

One thing people learn about me very quickly is that I have no patience with business meetings: the kind of occasion at which various people from various bits of an organisation gather in a room and throw ideas around for a couple of hours. I’ve done it often enough to know that the useful decisions mostly get made elsewhere, and the idea-throwing and associated chatter invariably goes on far longer than the subject matter merits because everyone wants their say.

So when I was invited to a sales meeting by our distributors, I wasn’t exactly filled with joy.

The meeting was an opportunity to tell their sales reps about Criminal Tendencies, our charity anthology, which doesn’t come out till next April, but hey, I didn’t invent the system…

It meant five hours’ travelling for less than an hour for less than an hour with the sales team: effectively a whole day away from base. And it’s a busy time (not that’s there’s really any other kind) and plenty of stuff was demanding attention here in the office.

Though since they get a whole lot of information anyway, maybe the point was to get the sales team as fired up about it as I am myself.

So how was I going to do that? They spend a couple of days a month listening to publishers getting excited about their new titles; why would mine stand out?

They listened politely as I told them about the book, and what I’m planning to do by way of promotion; there were a few comments, a couple of suggestions. No one got excited or fired up. So on the face of it, nothing happened to change my opinion of the value of meetings.

But…

Going to the meeting at all gave me a focus. It me push some small and apparently urgent jobs to one side (so far no one has given me any flak about them so they can’t have been so very urgent) in order to apply my mind to how we’re going to promote the anthology, so that I could present an organised and reasonably detailed marketing plan to those reps. So it served a useful purpose after all.

Since books only sell if they’re visible, and it’s frighteningly easy for us little guys to get buried under a mountain of surefire bestsellers, promotion is arguably the most important job I have to do. But dreaming up innovative and eye-catching ideas doesn’t have a deadline, and no one comes looking for me to ask where they are; so it’s a job that’s rarely at the top of the pending tray.

And it’s far too easy to fill the working day with ‘urgent’ jobs.

Janet Reid

I walked by the book rack at Duane Reade on 34th Street a couple days ago, clutching a vat of face spackle and a bag of cotton balls.  I'm in Duane Reade almost every day buying one sort of something or another. Among the few things I haven't bought there are books. (Duane Reade is the NYC drugstore chain for those who live outside the area.)

I used to buy books at places like Duane Reade.  In fact much of my early book buying was at the grocery store: that was the store I was in most often.  I'd pore over the book rack and find an author I liked or a book that sounded good. I discovered Dick Francis at the grocery store, also Catherine Aird, Emma Lathen and Sue Grafton.

I chose books there the same way I chose them at the library: I'd look at the selection and pick several, then winnow them down to one or two; choices based most likely on cover price at the store or how many I could stuff in my bag at the library.

When I was buying books at the grocery store, or checking them out from the library I had to look at what was on the shelf to get an idea of what to select. Reviews didn't suggest choices or books to look for: mysteries didn't get review space in any paper or magazine I read. No one I knew read mysteries or if they did, we didn't talk about them.

But I've never bought a book at Duane Reade because how I select books has changed. It's changed from the years I actually set foot in grocery stores, to now, when I don't.

It's changed because twenty six blogs and three dozen websites cough up info about new or great or overlooked mysteries to my GoogleReader every single day. (If you don't know about GoogleReader go here.  It's great.)

I don't need to look at the selection on the shelves to get an idea of what's available or to know what I want to buy. More often now I'm buying online from Amazon because when I see something that looks good (from that myriad of sources) it's a whole lot easier to click once at Amazon and presto, magic have it delivered.

This does not bode well for my friends and boon companions who are running retail book operations.  

When Amazon first reared its head up in Seattle and started gnawing at the corners of the retail book market I was pretty sure it would get a belly ache and die of indigestion within a couple years.

Boy was I wrong.

I've never had much love for Amazon. Certainly not anywhere close to the warm feeling I have for my treasured bookstore friends: Twenty Third Avenue Books in Portland, Annie Blooms in Portland, Murder by the Book in Portland, and my general preference for pretty much any indie store in all the world instead of the faceless hulk that is T-Rex Amazonicus.

So, why do I buy from Amazon? Because when I know what I want, it's the easiest, fastest way to get it.  I'd buy from the indies if it was fast and easy too but it's not.

Then today, I went over to the Dark Side and actually became part of Amazon.  They snagged me the way all pushers do. They gave me something I needed, and they gave it to me for free.

If you look at my website, at the bottom of each page, you'll see what it is.

At the bottom of each page is a scrolling gallery of book covers.

We have a much more elegant version of this on our FinePrint website.

We also paid a website designer to create it and one of the godsends is tasked with updating it frequently. 

I wasn't willing to spend much time or any money to have a gallery like that.

But, I needed book covers on my website. I'd been trying to figure out how to post them as individual pictures for a while.  I had limited success largely because I'm witless about even the simplest template-based websites (such as mine), and because the book covers pictures I had all came in different sizes and some of them looked weird.

It was a half baked and unsatisfactory solution.

Today I was over at Bill Cameron's blog.