Beer and Roaming in Albany, Postscript

And so ends another Bouchercon. Personally, a success. I had a great time, made new friends (as always; that what Bouchercons are for), re-acquainted myself with some old friends (also what Bouchercons are for), “discovered” new writers I want to look into in more detail (what Bouchercon is for from a reader’s perspective), and became re-energized about my own writing (what Bouchercons are for from a writer’s perspective).

I was assigned to a great panel that lived up to its promise, and was well received at an author’s choice event. I learned several things I can’t wait to incorporate into my own writing, and validated a few things I’d wondered about I can now use with a clear conscience.

The dispersed conference was a nuisance, but not so much it spoiled anything. The shuttles ran frequently and quickly, though it did make returning to my room for any forgotten items (such as a nap) difficult during the times the shuttles did not run. Walking to the hotel was easy; walking back to the conference was not. (Little known fact: “Albany” is an Iroquois word meaning “There is no San Francisco yet, but these hills will wear your ass out until there is.”) The fact the food court in the conference center was closed on Saturday could have been worked around a little better, but barbecue from the truck outside was quite tasty; sucked to be you if you didn’t find it before the line grew too long.

Maybe it was because the Hilton wasn’t the official host hotel, and it’s bar was the unofficial official meeting place, but the service there left a lot to be desired, especially compared to last year in Cleveland. On the other hand, I didn’t meet a single person in Albany who was less than engaging and genuinely friendly. The wait staff I encountered in Monk’s, Legends, and the Hollow weren’t content to be competent and courteous; they were fun.

The same thing that always makes a Bouchercon successful was present here, too: the people. Many thanks to (alphabetically) Eric Beetner, James Benn, Reed Farrel Coleman, Mike Dennis, Jacques Filippi, Terrence and Rita McCauley, John McFetridge, Rick Ollerman, Tim O’Mara, Absolutely Kate Pilarcik, Todd “Big Daddy Thug” Robinson, Peter Rozovsky, Robin Spano, Holly West, Jonathan Woods, and various other folks whose names I didn’t catch who made it a pleasure for this introvert to spend time with other people.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

Breaking News

Two—count ‘em, two—pre-release reviews of Grind Joint are now available at Amazon, with five stars each. Check them out on Grind Joint’s Amazon page.

Bear and Roaming in Albany, Day Three

Saturday, September 21

9:00 (That’s right, nine in the morning) Big Man on Mulberry Street: Creating the perfect villain

This panel hit the ground running. None were of the “criminal mastermind/serial killer” school of villainy. Steve Hamilton called out Mags Bennett from Season 2 of Justified as the perfect villain. She poisons a man for talking to the police, then adopts his daughter, going so far as to side against her own sons to protect the girl.

Noteworthy comments came too fast for my note taking skills to keep up. Among the more memorable ideas expressed:

Every villain is the hero of his own story.

The panel’s consensus, first expressed by moderator Barbara Fister, is that the serial killer/dogged detective genre may have run its course. A lot of people are sick to death of them. (Me, for one.)

Joe Lansdale pointed out that villains are not made notable because they have an eye patch or a wooden leg, but by how they feel about having an eye patch or a wooden leg. Two books he recommends: They Don’t Dance Much, by James Ross; You Play the Black and the Red Comes Up, by Richard Hallas. (One of the great titles of all time.)

John McFetridge said most criminals understand they’re breaking the law, but they think of laws as being temporary. He noted the now-respectable fortunes made by Canadian alcoholic companies smuggling whisky and beer into the United States during Prohibition.

John also has a great idea to get all the James Bond villains together to write a book about how to succeed in nefarious enterprises. Rule Number One: Don’t tell Bond your plan.

10:20 You May Be Right: Law enforcement and crime fiction—serve, protect, and entertain

Moderator Colin Campbell ran the session as a mock interrogation and his panel was up to the task. He began by asking if anyone was faint of heart, upset by graphic descriptions, or offended by foul language, then told them they could fuck off right now.

Former New York detective Robert Knightley gave it to us straight:

· Cops are evaluated by how quickly they can get a confession. Means and method are secondary.

· In New York, they don’t bring in the video camera until everything has been agreed upon; they’re taping a performance, not an interrogation. The real work was done off camera. He’d been involved in interrogations that ran in shifts, going on so long one set of cops goes home for some sleep and their replacements are still at it when the original cops return.

· CSI evidence is nice, but it works best with a confession.

Something too many writers get wrong: suspects do not have to be read their Miranda warning upon arrest. It’s only when the police are about to ask questions. Patrol officers are sometimes told never to Mirandize suspects; leave that for the detectives, who may try to dance around it.

Tim O’Mara, the only non-cop on the panel—he does have cops in th family—had several entertaining tales of how life as a New York schoolteacher isn’t always mush differen from life as a cop, though his solutions to the resulting incidents were much different. And entertaining.

Connie Dial said she was rarely cursed at by a criminal without receiving an unsolicited apology.

The writers’ most frustrating inaccuracies in books and scripts:

· Calling for an ambulance instead of the medical examiner for an obviously dead body.

· Detectives working alone in situations where they clearly would not.

· Cops saying they’re “on the job.” Cops only say that when they’re pulled over for speeding.

· Unlike in Law & Order, people do not continue what they’re doing when police question them.

When asked by an audience member what police do when they find a false confession, Knightley replied there are no false confessions from their point of view. Once the guy confesses, they’re done with him; the case is closed. He also strongly recommended Ken Burns’s latest documentary, The Central Park Five, about the 1989 case of the Central Park jogger who was raped and murdered in an alleged “wilding” incident.

12:30 Famous Last Words: Writing multiple series/ending a series

Max Allan Collins began with the final word on when to definitively end a series: the publisher doesn’t want any more. Collins spoke of continuing and ending Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer series, at the behest of Hammer, with whom he worked closely late in Spillane’s life. (I was shocked to learn Spillane wrote only thirteen Mike Hammer novels; Collins has completed six more that Spillane had begun, thus completing the series.)

As might be expected, there was discussion about continuing a series someone else had started. Collins didn’t feel that was what he had done with Spillane, as Spillane had started all of the books Collins completed. He also didn’t see anything wrong with writers picking up where dead authors left off.

Reed Farrel Coleman is finishing his Moe Prager series, but also went back to write a Moe prequel. His money quote in setting stories in the past—in his case the late 60s—was not to take the easy way out and give everyone long hair, tie-dyed shirts, and bell bottoms. The great majority of people in every time period—well over 90%--get up every morning and go to work.

Laurie King named Josephine Tey as her most influential writer prior to 1995. I’ve been tripping over Tey references since I read Books to Die For; I need to track her down. (Congratulations to good friend Declan Burke and John Connolly for winning an Anthony for BTDF.)

2:30 Noir at the Bar

Well, sort of. Eric Beetner hosted a speed dating version of the popular series, giving each author one minute to read enough of his or her work to make the audience want to read more. All succeeded, though few so well as Les Edgerton with his fifteen-second poem. There was plenty of talent in the room to hold a crowd without the book giveaways, but giving away books is always a cool thing. A little hurried, but a rousing success, even though high winds caused the cancellation of the much-anticipated human sacrifices.

3:30 Terrence McCauley (with guest game show host Todd “Big Daddy Thug” Robinson)

Terrence picked up where Noir at the Bar left off, literally, re-convening half an hour later to continue the readings. This time was more of a slam, with anyone who had something to read encouraged to do so. Todd Robinson broke things up by awarding free books to anyone who could correctly answer Thuglit trivia questions. The talent level was considerable here—both for writing and trivia—and my copy of Todd’s short story collection, Dirty Words, will remind me we’ll always have Albany. (My correct answer: What was the UK title of Stuart Neville’s Ghosts of Belfast? The Twelve.}

Enormous thanks are due to Terrence McCauley for enticing most of his hard-earned crowd to stay for what had potential to be a drone-a-thon, a one-sided “discussion” of the modern relevance of Raymond Chandler’s ideal hero. The time and attention devoted by the audience are much appreciated.

Dinner: The Beloved Spouse returned from a family visit to make a good weekend even better, accompanying John McFetridge, Rick Ollerman, Jacques Filippi, and myself to The Hollow, where I had a bacon cheeseburger with egg yet again, though this time the egg was over easy. As was I, by that time.

Pennsylvania Man’s Tastes Get Him Into Trouble

Mike Adams, born Michael Adamski when Penns River still had a hospital; a/k/a Mike the Fence, Mike the Kike (for the small shylock business he ran on the side), and White Mike (to distinguish him from Black Mike, also a fence). Five-foot-ten, one-eighty. Worked more or less full-time as a bartender at Fat Jimmy’s, where Jimmy let him conduct business, so long as no cash or merchandise changed hands, and no drugs. His day off, so he ran errands and made collections. Home for a shower, then out to see if Luann Czekalski would make an appearance at Ricki’s Lime. With luck, bring her home and show off his new tattoo.

A hundred yards from his house he saw the light bars. Two Penns River patrol units, plus one unmarked. Two uniformed cops with their thumbs up their asses between the cars and his front door. Another uniform and two plainclothes coming and going from the unmarked to the house. Mike had seen search warrants served before. He drove by, never turned his head to look.

He had his Go bag in the trunk. Eight grand in tens, twenties, and fifties he collected and banded himself; no bank straps. An ID he bought in New York that came with a number prospective employers could call for a job reference, one call per ID. Fancied himself the incarnation of DeNiro in the movie Heat. “Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat.” Mike beat Bobby D by at least twenty seconds.

Almost stopped at Glen’s on Leechburg Road for frozen custard. Best ice cream in the world, even better than the Wisconsin Dells, where Mike made a detour during his long-haul trucking days just to try it. One last large Flavor of the Day would have been nice. Too risky. That self-righteous detective asshole—Dougherty?—knew about Mike’s ice cream jones, probably had someone there already.

Mike knew a guy in Chicago, said he could set him up in Rockford, and the way to get there was the PA Turnpike to I-80, then I-90. Eight, nine hours, depending on traffic. Nearest Turnpike interchange in Harmarville, next to Cheswick, home of the original Glen’s. Mike doubted Penns River would call neighboring jurisdictions to look for him. Or, he would have doubted it if he thought they wanted him for fencing or juice.

Jimmy had warned him not to mention the meth package at work. “Don’t even let on you have something else going,” how he said it. Jimmy tolerated what he called “victimless crimes” in his bar. He didn’t care who used drugs, so long as they didn’t use or sell on the premises and paid their tabs. No bones about it: Jimmy wasn’t losing his license so some toothless tweaker could ride a high.

The thing with Jimmy, he wasn’t so tolerant and open-minded he wouldn’t drop a dime if warnings went unheeded. The bent guys let him get away with it because Fat Jimmy’s worked so well as a clearinghouse to make connections; they told complainers not to shit where they ate, make their transactions elsewhere. The cops ignored the criminal element because he’d dish for the proper occasion. The sophomore at Penn State Penns River who ODed on speed from the package Mike brokered made for a borderline occasion; him dying pushed it over the line into a fucking Orthodox wedding. Mike assumed his warrant had Jimmy’s CI number on it.

Mike didn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned this Rockford thing to Jimmy. If he had, the cops might figure he’d go there, and the quickest way was through Harmarville.

So, no Glen’s.

He still had to get to Chicago, which meant I-80. Mike doubted they’d post a BOLO across state lines. Even if they did, the odds of a cop from Ohio or points west spotting this one car were slim and less than slim, if he behaved himself. PA-28 north would take him to 80 in Brookville. Mike took back roads through the Flats, the 356 bypass past Leechburg and hooked up with 28 the other side of Freeport.

Jordan’s Soft Serve never entered his mind until the expressway ended outside Kittanning and reminded him. Stopped there all the time coming back from his uncle’s camp in East Brady. No more than a mile from where he was, quick in and out, then on his way. Fifteen minutes, tops. Made the small detour past the par three golf course and parked along the side, next to an SUV that hid his car from the street.

A cop drove past as Mike came around the front of Jordan’s. He hesitated—almost went back—shook it off. This wasn’t even the metropolis of Kittanning, population 4,000; this was West Kittanning. A thousand people and two cops, tops. Town this size, a cop probably drove by once an hour.

Ordered a large chocolate cone, took a lick. Depending on his mood, this was as good as Glen’s. No cops in sight when he stepped out the door. Turned the corner back to his car, licking around the edge of the cone. Had his keys out, lock fob in his hand, when he passed the SUV and saw the West Kittanning cop leaning against Mike’s driver side door, his police car blocking any exit. Two state troopers rested on their own cars behind him.

The local cop smiled. “Mike Adamski, right?” Mike stared and swallowed. Took another lick. “Detective Dougherty in Penns River said you might stop here. He told me to let you finish your cone. Said the next one’s going to be a while.”

Beer and Roaming in Albany, Part Two

Friday, September 20

10:20 Goodnight, My Angel: Hard-boiled, noir, and the reader’s love affair with both.

For some reason I have no notes on this panel. I know I was there. I’d ask around, but Reed Farrel Coleman was moderating a panel on “The New Noir” with Hilary Davidson, Dick Lochte, John Rector, Todd Robinson, Jason Starr, and Duane Swierczynski at the same time, which siphoned off a lot of people I might otherwise have asked. Peter Rozovsky might know; he’s good about keeping up with stuff like that.

12:30 Until the Night: The art of writing the PI novel

PI pull me in the way road kill attracts a crow, especially with an A List moderator like Ali Karim, and one of my favorite PI writers (Jack Bludis) on the agenda. All of the writers had at least been nominated for a Shamus, and the audience was full of their peers. Definitely a meat and potatoes group in their tastes, citing Chandler, Hammett, John D. Macdonald, and Robert Parker among their primary influences. Baron Birtcher and Charles Salzman stood out to me as needing further investigation. The all-male panel gave props to standout female PI writers, notably Sara Paretsky and Julie Smith.

Funniest moment (at least for me) came when Baron Birtcher—who bears more than a passing resemblance to The Dude—made a comment that incorporated The Eagles when discussing the pros and cons of continuing series begun by others. Each writer had his own perspective. Most said they’d at least consider it, though they all made mention of pitfalls to be aware of.

1:50 Entertainer: Keeping the reader’s attention

Never borrow a coin from Terrence McCauley if you need it to decide which panel to attend. I lasted ten minutes in the room where his dime sent me—no, I’m not going to name the panel—before ending up standing near the back while Catriona McPherson led this group through a thoroughly enjoyable session. Standout moments came from Simon Wood, who, when asked to come up with a name for a badly conceived character, proposed “Jose Cuervo, MD.” Russell McLean told a great tale of finding the leather mask of a woman’s face attached to a closet wall in his new home, along with a note warning them not to remove it, and noting the McLeans were the fifth family to receive it. If you’re ever in doubt as to which panel to attend and Catriona McPherson is one of the moderators, don’t bother tossing a coin.

3:10 A Matter of Trust: Is all fair when it comes to keeping the reader guessing?

Maybe the best panel I saw. Megan Abbott, Laura Lippman, and the third author whose name I didn’t catch (either Jennifer McMahon or Lori Roy; one was absent the I was too far back to read the name cards) clearly knew and liked each other. Moderator Clair Lamb knew to kick off a topic and stand back to let the three talk among themselves. Informative, insightful, and laugh out loud funny.

Highlights:

Using a child’s point of view allows you to build suspense because the reader inherently when something that makes perfect sense to the character is a really bad idea.

Laura Lippman notes the only truly reliable narrators are the dead (Sunset Boulevard), and those who are confessing (Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice). Everyone else has their own perspectives and potential axes to grind.

Lippman considers the Hannibal Lector stories to be cozies in their way, as deep down everyone knows the chances of meeting such a man are nil. The stories that scare her are everyday things that might happen in her Baltimore neighborhood.

Everyone agreed that among the primary enticements of crime fiction is getting the reader to wonder what he or she would do in a similar situation. We all like to think we’d make better decisions, but would we cover up evidence of a crime our child had committed?

* * *

I kidded above, but it’s hard to imagine having more fun than I did in the 10:20 panel moderated. Peter Rozovsky ran the usual entertaining and informative operation, and Eric Beetner, Mike Dennis, Terrence McCauley, and Jonathan Woods were up to every challenge. I don’t know how panels are picked (stay tuned for interviews over the next few weeks that delve into that), but I’m grateful to whoever put me in with that fine and talented group.

The day concluded with the Three Ds of Bouchercon: Dining, Drinking, and Debauchery.

Dinner: Back to Legends for another Breakfast burger. Why else do I take those statins?

Beer and Roaming in Albany, Day One

Beer and Bouchercon go without explanation; “roaming” has to do with what one can only how was an experiment, the first Bouchercon anyone knows of where there was no “host” hotel. Logistical issues ensued—nap times were greatly curtailed—and the food court that provided the only truly convenient means of sustenance was closed on Saturday. People were roaming around Albany for various reasons.

Some have the energy to practically live blog Bouchercons, posting at least once a day; I envy them. I admire them. Time was when I would want to be them and would try to keep up.

I was so cute then.

Here at OBAAT, we’ll go over my notes a week later and a day at the time. If you don’t like it, please feel free to ask for your subscription fees back.

(Editor’s Note: I will make note from time to time of authors who made their way onto my To Be Read list after seeing them on panels. No offense is meant to those who are not mentioned. I sincerely did not listen to an author all week who made me think, “I’m not reading any of his shit.” Some stuck out and were added; some were already on the list.)

Thursday, September 19

12:00 Tell Her About It—Promotion: how do you know if it’s too much or too little?

What struck me most was how often panelists returned to the theme of working to make the author interesting, rather than directly flogging the book. This made resonated with me, as I discovered at least half of the writers I follow based on reading blog posts and interviews. What they said—and how they said it—appealed to me, so I investigated further. Using this as my sole research, I have tried the same approach, using this blog and Facebook as my primary promotional avenues. Not taking this too literally, but it was nice to get some validation I wasn’t completely off the mark.

Joelle Charbonneau took a position contrary to the traditional “all publicity is good publicity,” telling of turning down interview requests that arose after a piece she wrote on a controversial issue appeared in The Daily Beast. She had no trouble with TDB running her article; she knew what to expect. She declined interviews, as she did not know want to expect, and had no desire to become part of the story herself. This prompted a spirited discussion about whether such requests should be accepted, regardless of any perceived risks.

Getting people to request your book at the local library can result in more sales than you might think.

Be careful when using social media. Don’t try to be someone you’re not. You must come across as genuine; people won’t buy a phony’s books. Sure, it’s fiction; they expect you to make things up. No one likes to be lied to.

3:00 Author’s Choice—Robin Spano: Using life in fiction

Robin Spano, Hilary Davidson, and a gentleman whose name I can’t read in my notes led an entertaining interactive discussion about how things that happened to them worked—or wormed—their way in stories. (If anyone reading this has the name of my mystery panelist, please add it in comments and I’ll make the correction.) Hilary told a chilling story of a co-worker who disappeared on a business trip to Mexico, and how it provided the basis of her novel Evil in All Its Disguises.

This was one of those sessions that make Bouchercon worth going to. I had heard of Hilary, of course—I don’t spend all my time under rocks—but listening to her talk about how she used this story without overtly plugging the book got me to add her to my To Be Read list. (I was lucky enough to meet Hilary for a few minutes before the panel. Yeah, she is as nice as they say, one of those people who meets you for the first time, says hello, and you have the feeling she’s been waiting all day for this.)

I turned around to hear a comment and found Jack Getze sitting directly behind me. I’ve known Jack online for years, and thoroughly enjoy his Austin Carr series. Our first conversation went something like this:

Me: Jack Getze? I’m Dana King.

Jack: Dana! Wow. You don’t look at all like I expected.

Me: You thought I’d be younger, didn’t you?

Jack: Yeah, actually.

4:00 The Siegfried Line—WWII and Sons Offspring

Peter’s panels are always worth going to, even if the topic doesn’t seem like a grabber. This panel had me from the buildup, as criminal behavior during war time is a fascinating topic on multiple levels. All the authors had interesting takes and different perspectives, from a young officer on Eisenhower’s staff at SHAEF, to American forces in Korea during the 70s to members of the Sûreté and Gestapo working together to solve murders in occupied France. I could write a page on this panel alone, but became too engrossed to take worthwhile notes. Suffice to say James Benn, John Lawton, and Martin Limon made their way onto the TBR list.

I signed my first author’s autograph when I met Michelle Isler and her husband Tommy at the evening reception. Michelle is an avid reader and supporter of crime fiction in general, and has been very kind and enthusiastic in her support of my books. It was a treat to meet both of them and hope to see them again.

In addition to Michelle ad Tommy, I had a discussion with Walter Colby, a reader attending his first Bouchercon. Walter was great company, and, in a moment of weakness, consented to be interviewed about his impressions when things settle down.

Dinner was a Breakfast Burger at Legends sports bar: a hamburger topped with bacon, cheese, and scrambled egg. (Peter Rozovsky asked if I’d ordered a side of cholesterol.) Thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

Tomorrow: Peter Rozovsky and four new friends carry me through a panel.

Here it Is: The Final Bouchercon 2013 Promotional Announcement. You’re Welcome.

This is likely the only blog post this week. Tomorrow morning The Beloved Spouse and I leave for Bouchercon. We’ll spend Tuesday night with relatives before heading on to Albany. I may post from the conference if the planets align, but I’m there to attend, not to post; a full compendium of my activities will be provided next week. (Discretely redacted, as necessary.)

If you’re in the area, I’ll be part of two events:

Friday, September 20 at 10:20 in Room 2: “Goodnight, My Angel: Hard-boiled, Noir and the Reader's Love Affair With Both.” The moderator is Peter Rozovsky, of the award-winning blog Detectives Beyond Borders. The panelists are Eric Beetner, Mike Dennis, Terrence McCauley, and Jonathan Woods.

Saturday, September 21 at 4:00 in Room 5: “Is Chandler’s Concept of the Ideal Hero Still Relevant?” I have some comments prepared, but what I’m really hoping for is a discussion. Maybe an argument. A minor fistfight is okay, but no weapons, please.

If you’re in Albany and can’t make either event, please feel free to catch me in the hall or at the bar and say hello. Putting a face to a commenter’s name, or shaking the hand of someone who reads but does not comment is always fun.

See you there.