Going Down Yonder

 

The Beloved Spouse™ and I have wanted to go to an event at Yonder since it opened. Life (read: covid) conspired to prevent such an excursion until last week. It was worth the wait. (I’ll not get into the fact that we shouldn’t have had to wait so long. Thanks, you unvaccinated assholes.)

 

For those unaware, Yonder – Southern Cocktails and Brew, is a drinking establishment and meeting place in Hillsborough, NC that has been described as Hillsborough’s living room. Owned and operated by Eryk Pruitt and his lovely wife Lana Pierce (of whom Eryk is wholly undeserving), Yonder holds regular musical and literary events, including Noirs at Bars a few times a year. (If you unfamiliar with Noir at the Bar, look it up. This is One Bite at a Time, not fucking Wikipedia.)

 

Last Thursday (October 21) the good people at Yonder (and Eryk) held a special Noir at the Bar to commemorate Halloween by inviting several horror writers along with a top shelf cast of crime authors. The result was the best Noir at the Bar I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been to a goodly number. (Read at several, and hosted one, too. Yonder’s horror night was still best.)

 

A few general observations before I get specific.

·       Those typically associated with crime all had an element of crime in their stories, the horror writers, not so much.

·       Crime writers tend to tell their stories through dialog; horror writers are typically more narrative-based. This is not a hard and fast rule.

·       I have never been to a Noir at the Bar where the performance level was close to this high. Not only were all the stories outstanding (let’s face it, N@Bs are anthologies, so maintaining a uniform level of quality can be an issue), the readings were uniformly excellent. No one just read; they performed, and they all nailed it.

 

This was among the fastest two-and-a-half hours I ever spent.

 

Everyone deserves credit. I had three beers, so I don’t remember the exact sequence in which everyone read, so here’s the list in alphabetical order.

·       Nathan Ballingrud read the opening of a story about a bookseller who clearly deals more than paperbacks out of the back room. What, we don’t know. I’ve already ordered his book so I can see what happens next.

·       Natalia Barron’s excerpt was as dark as its subterranean setting would suggest, and left everyone wondering where the story would go.

·       Michele Tracy Berger read a cautionary tale of the potential dangers of moving from one fast food employer to another.

·       S.A. Cosby supplied a harrowing tale of the backstory to a horrific shooting binge.

·       Rob Hart told of a new restaurant experience in New York City that will give you pause before going to another potluck dinner.

·       Jamie Mason’s story talked about one supernatural entity rousing itself to fight another, more malevolent one.

·       Katy Munger took the Halloween theme seriously, telling a story that combined laugh out loud humor with a disquieting warning of who can hide in plain sight on Halloween.

·       Eryk Pruitt creeped everyone out with a tale of a side of dom/sub relationships people never think of.

·       Todd Robinson read of redemption and forgiveness after a horrific tragedy.

·       Cadwell Turnbull’s vampire story taught the dark side of eternal life.

 

I’m not a horror guy, so I was unfamiliar with the horror writers who read that night, and was profoundly impressed at the quality of their stories, and writing, compared to what I remembered from my young adulthood, when I read a fair amount of it. A personal re-assessment of the genre may be in order. They were also all new to the Noir at the Bar experience, so it was a treat to see how much fun they had in the company of people who love to write and read.

 

No assessment of the festivities would be complete without mention of the host, Tracey Reynolds. I’ve hosted a Noir at the Bar and can attest that, while it’s not particularly difficult, it’s not something you just roll out of bed and do. One must prepare, and an ability to read an audience and pace the performance is imperative. I’ve never seen anyone do it better than Tracey. (And no one – no one – handles a microphone condom better.)

 

In addition to all the above (like that wasn’t enough), this was an opportunity for The Beloved Spouse™ and me to reconnect with some good friends face-to-face. The trip would have been a success had the reading flopped, just so we could see Eryk, Lana, Todd, and Shawn to trade hugs, news, and insults. I knew Rob Hart slightly from social media, and it was a treat to get to meet him in person, as well.

 

As it was with everyone I met. I made a point of telling the writers I didn’t know beforehand how much I enjoyed their work, and not just because I know how good that feels after such an event. I genuinely did enjoy their stories, and I hope this becomes an annual event at Yonder.

A Conversation With Todd Robinson

In an effort to keep everyone from being bored with this blog (including me). Today marks the first installment of a new feature. I’ll still do some Twenty Questions interviews, but those are really only good one time around. Once people have answered them, there’s not a lot left, even though I make an effort to swap out the questions from time to time.

A good interview should be more of a conversation, so that’s what we having here today. And not just some boring conversation with some droog off the street. The break the cherry of this new feature, we got Todd Robinson, founder and editor of the late, lamented Thuglit, and internationally published author of the The Hard Bounce and its sequel Rough Trade. Most of you already know Todd, at least by reputation. For those of you who haven’t yet had the pleasure…well, there’s a lot I could tell you, but it’s better to hear it from Big Daddy Thug himself.

You’re a Boston boy through and through. How’d you end up in Yankeeland?

 

A series of bad decisions. Add on another twenty years of bad decisions, and I'm still here. New York is that unforgiving kind of town that grants a person enough of a living to stay here without allowing the means to accumulate enough to fucking leave. It's insidious.

But at this point, my boy is here, so I'm here. I'm raising a New Yorker, so the best I can do is accept a lifetime with a Mets fan.

Needless to say, he is being raised with the concrete belief that the Yankees represent all that is wrong in the world.

Thuglit was considered by many to be the premier neo-noir outlet in the country. A lot of now big names were published there before they became big deals. What gave you the idea to start it up?

I got tired of the shitty longstanding magazines tendency to publish bland crime lit suitable for Nana. They weren't representing the kind of writing I was doing, and they sure as shit weren't representing the shit I liked to read.

What do you like to read? Not necessarily who, but what keeps you going through a book and what will bring you back for more?

I'm reading a bunch of different stuff. As much as I love crime fiction, I'm a little burnt out after eleven years of reading submissions for the magazine. It's important for me both as a writer and a reader not to burn out any further on a single genre. I just finished Birdbox (horror) by Josh Malerman, Deer Hunting With Jesus (current affairs/non-fiction) by Joe Bageant, and just cracked open Utu by Caryl Ferey (crime fiction).

I have to admit my reading focuses a lot—maybe too much—on crime. What is it about crime fiction that drew you in originally? Is it the same as what keeps you there?

What drew me in was that I recognized the characters and lives as reflections of the world I lived in. I recognized the desperation and the lack of societal care for people who were hurting and how they lashed out in a fashion that was sometimes criminal. And I also recognized the humanity underneath the surface of the people others might classify as damaged.

I write about my people. I like stories that relate to those experiences and emotions. Sure, I take those characters and scenarios down some fantastical roads, but do my damnedest to keep the innate truths about the people themselves intact.

I hear you’re going back to France for another tour. Who’s your French publisher and how did you get hooked up with them?

Gallmeister Editions publish my books in France. They have a unique way of finding authors. They find an author they want to publish, then ask that author who they think they should look at—someone that they might not have heard about. This is how they've gotten their fingers on so many authors who are considered "underground" here, and help them find a broader audience in France. Their stable includes some of the bravest and most ferocious writers in neo-noir...and then there's me.

Benjamin Whitmer recommended me into the company. I owe that man at least a steak.

Are French author events different from those you’ve been to here in the States?

Yes. People show up.

Forgive me for this, but I don’t get out much and live vicariously through my more successful friends, and I have a question I’ve wondered about since your first trip to France. Are the events in French or English? If French, do you speak French, or is there a translator?

The events are in French with an interpreter. God help me if I didn't have one. I learned some key phrases to engage people, and apparently my accent was convincing enough for them to sometimes believe that I was a naturalized speaker—perhaps one who'd suffered a recent head injury. Nevertheless, often people would just continue the conversation in French...at least until they saw the panic in my eyes as I frantically searched the room for my interpreter.

Here’s the big thing I wanted to talk about today: You’re a respected voice in and for noir fiction. The late Roger Hobbs referred to you as “the most important name in contemporary American noir.” I’ve read all three of your books (Dirty Words, The Hard Bounce, and Rough Trade) and, while I find many of the short stories to be noir (especially “Peaches,” which I consider one of the handful of best short stories I’ve ever read), the novels strike be as black comedies not unlike some of Shane Black’s films, such as Kiss Kiss Bang and The Nice Guys. What does “noir” mean to you, and how noir do you think you are?

Meh. Noir has become such a malleable term so as to become almost meaningless. It just sounds good because it's French. How noir am I? Who the fuck knows? I'm just telling stories how I want to tell them. Some darker, some with more of tongue-in-cheek sensibility. I call my own style Idiot Noir. And I'm sure there are some who'd argue that what I do isn't classically noir at all, due to the humor. That said, my French publisher has included me in their Neo-Noir collection, so there's that. And those beautiful bastards coined the term. Ergo, the noir purists can suck it.

Whose Responsible This?

Conventional wisdom seems to be moving toward advising all aspiring authors to hire an editor, even before sending the book to an agent. I may not be wise, but I’m often unconventional: I think this is bullshit.

Whose book is it? Do you have a vision for it? If so, stick by it. If not, why are you showing it around? Is the editor supposed to provide that, too? What do you do when the editor differs about how something should go? Roll over? Look for another editor and go best two-of-three? Or stick to your guns, in which case you wasted your money on the editor.

This is not to say editors do not serve a valuable role, but it is best played after a relationship has been developed. Per-page editors may be good, and they may want the best for you and your book, but they cannot have the same investment you have. They edit your book, send the bill, and move onto the next author. That’s their job.

Editors also disagree. My first story submission went to Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, a short story about a man who may, or may not, have killed his wife. We don’t know, as the story is told through him talking to what we learn at the end is the priest who accompanies him to the death chamber. Hitchcock declined, but I did receive a note: it needed another character, if just for a second, to provide context.

I added a couple of brief paragraphs where the narrator speaks with a guard and sent that one to Ellery Queen. (The Hitchcock editor did not invite a resubmission. I probably should have tried again, but I was a virgin.) Ellery Queen also passed. Told me to lose the guard, he wasn’t needed. What I lost was interest.

Have I never been helped by an editor? Au contraire. (I like to throw in the occasional bit of French for The Sole Heir, so she knows I pay attention.) My first two agents were enormously helpful as editors, mainly by teaching me what to look for and how to fix things myself. Pam Strickler sent me copious notes on how to tighten my prose and, in retrospect, leave out the parts people tend to skip at a micro level. Barbara Braun provided tips on story structure that help me keep god as far away from my machines as possible.

My success with a purely editorial editor was with Todd Robinson. I submitted a short story to the original Thuglit, and he returned it with notes about the ending, and said he’d look at it again if I wanted to resubmit. (I’m paraphrasing. This is Big Daddy Thug we’re talking about. I’m pretty sure “fuck” was in there a few times.) I thought it over, re-crafted the ending, resubmitted, and—boom!—I had my first sale, and a tee shirt I wear to this day. Todd also picked “Green Gables” for one of the anthologies, thus providing my first paycheck as a writer. (And people wonder why I worship at the Church of Thug.)

The difference, to me, is to show your best effort around, then get editorial assistance if needed. No offense is meant to my many editor friends. Their best assistance may come when an agent or publisher has told you they like the book, but it needs work, and then you’re not sure what to do. Give the editor specifics. (“I can resubmit, but I need to punch up the dialog.” Or, “I’ve been told the setting is weak. What can I do?”) Don’t just send them a book, allegedly your book, and say, “Fix this.” If all you’re getting are generic rejections, your writing may well need more than an editor.

But you’re a fledgling writer, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Where to start? What do to? What do you want to write, and in what style? The answer is a lot easier than you think, and a lot harder than it sounds: read. All the time. Every spare moment, and make time to have those spare moments. That half an hour a day you spend watching television to wind down? Read instead. Which is more important today: weeding the garden or reading? That depends on which is more important to you, gardening or writing, if today’s schedule demands choosing one or the other? There is no wrong answer, but you can’t learn to write on your knees pulling things out of the dirt.

All good writers are good readers, and by that I don’t just mean copious readers. They know how to read. Don’t read to fall asleep on the beach. Read to learn how writers who are good or great at what you want to write get it done. Need help with dialog? Read Elmore Leonard and George V. Higgins. Want a more staccato, edgier writing style? James Ellroy. You’d like to be more poetic, yet not overly wordy? James Lee Burke or John Connolly. Not saying you have to write like them—you can’t, they’re geniuses—but pay attention to see how they get the effects you like and experiment with those techniques in your own fiction.

My dream was always to be a professional musician. I couldn’t make a living at it, and had to give it up. It broke my heart at the time, but the recovery was quick, because I knew I’d done everything I could. I’d wrung every last drop of talent out of myself, and it wasn’t enough. There’s honor in that; any shame would have come from less than a full effort.

That’s how writing is. You’re going to own whatever success you gain, though, to be sure, you’ll appreciate and acknowledge whatever help you had along the way. (Unless you’re a complete asshole, in which case get away from my blog.) Be prepared to own any failures as well. The way to do that is to be true to your vision of your work, and to give your best effort all the time. Your best effort. Don’t claim your well has run dry when you haven’t yet dug it deep enough. I can live with rejection. What I wouldn’t be able to live with is wondering if what I had written in the first place would have been good enough, when what I submitted was not.

Breaking News on Grind Joint; Noir at the Bar Baltimore

Relative quiet here has masked lots of activity on the Grind Joint front. To wit:

· An audio book, read by Mike Dennis, will be available through Amazon, audible.com, and iTunes, hopefully within the next week. Mike’s done a hell of a job, making subtle differences in the accents and inflections in a book with a shit ton of speaking parts, and, best of all, lets the reader decide what’s exciting and what isn’t. I’d never worked on an audio book before, and the process was enlightening. More details will be provided as the launch approaches.

(By the way, Mike’s a fine writer his own self. His work has appeared on more than one of my year end lists, with Setup on Front Street and the short story, “The Session” standing out for me. Check him out in more detail on his blog, http://mikedennisnoir.com.)

· A lot of people have asked when the e-book for Grind Joint will be available. (All right, two people have asked; one asked twice. “A lot” can mean different things to different people.) I now have an answer: soon. By “soon,” I mean by the end of the month. Weather permitting. (I have no idea why weather would not permit the publication of an e-book, but it sounds like something I could ascribe tardiness to, as the weather is entirely out of my control, thus leaving me blameless should the date slip.) Right now I have only the formatting to do, and am waiting on a cover design to be finalized. The good news is, it’s not one of those “the e-book is damn near as expensive as the print version.” Price for Kindle will be $3.99.

Kieran Shea, Nik Korpon, and Steve Weddle hosted Baltimore’s first Noir at the Bar at Slainte on Thames Street last Sunday. Weather held down the crowd a bit, but the writers who were able to make it were worth a snowy slog: Rob Hart and Todd Robinson (both drove all the way from New York, then back that night so Todd could work a double on Monday), Merry Jones, Jon McGoran, Art Taylor, Dennis Tafoya, Jen Conley, and Jeff Alphin displayed the wide variety of what crime fiction and noir are capable of though grit and humor and a severed penis in a jar. The Godfather of N@B, Peter Rozovsky, made the trip from Philadelphia to lend his imprimatur. This was the first such slam The Beloved Spouse and I have been able to attend; it will not be the last.

Twenty Questions With Todd Robinson

Twenty Questions comes heavy today; Big Daddy Thug is in the house.

Todd Robinson is best known as the publisher, editor, and general conscience (if that word can be used in this context) of Thuglit, possibly the premier website for neo-noir fiction. Thuglit has published three anthologies, and I have never felt prouder as a writer then when my story “Green Gables” was selected for the Blood, Guts, and Whiskey, given the respect I have for the work of those who suddenly became my peers in that one small way. Among the authors discover by Thuglit are Stuart Nevillle, Hilary Davidson, Jordan Harper, and Frank Bill.

Todd’s success as an editor has, somewhat unfairly, overshadowed his talent as a writer. His writing has appeared in Danger City, Demolition, Out Of The Gutter, Pulp Pusher, Crimespree and Writers Digest's The Years Best Writing 2003. He has won over six Honorable Mentions in various writing competitions/awards, making him the official bridesmaid of the form. (His short story, “Peaches” was nominated for an Anthony Award this year.)

Even with that resume, it may well be Todd’s longer form work that brings him greater renown as a writer. His first novel, The Hard Bounce, received the following review from Booklist: “Robinson, creator of the website Thuglit, peoples his first novel with a host of imaginatively drawn thugs, villains, victims, and rascals, and he has filled his story with top-shelf tough talk, mayhem, lots of raunch, some laughs, and a vivid sense of place. Readers who enjoy a good wallow in all of the above will feel right at home with The Hard Bounce.” Publisher’s Weekly wrote, [The Hard Bounce’s heroes] “wrap up their first case, neither tidily nor predictably, leaving enough setup for what may become a sturdy new crime fiction series."

Todd agreed to take time from his busy schedule of all of the above—plus a day job and life in general—to play Twenty Questions.

One Bite at a Time: Tell us about The Hard Bounce.

Todd Robinson: It's my long-suffering novel about two Boston bouncers (Boo & Junior) who are looking for a teenage runaway.

OBAAT: Where did you get this idea, and what made it worth developing for you? (Notice I didn’t ask “Where do you get your ideas?” I was careful to ask where you got this idea.)

TR: Came from a bunch of places. Mostly from the years I spent working the door at Boston's legendary Rathskeller. Different incidences, characters, etc. The place was a treasure trove.

OBAAT: How long did it take to write The Hard Bounce, start to finish?

TR: About two years. I learned to type along the way. I'm still not great. I only use four fingers.

OBAAT: What’s the back story on the main character or characters?

TR: Boo is mostly a reflection of myself, but younger, with better hair, better-looking and smoother with women. So…not me at all, really. I think most writers make their protagonists out of pieces of themselves, only grander—the people they kind of wish they were more like. Junior is a mixed bag of a couple people, but their interactions, their no-bullshit attitude towards one another is directly from my relationship with my oldest friend. When they're talking, it's me and Julius all the way.

OBAAT: In what time and place is The Hard Bounce set? How important is the setting to the book as a whole?

TR: Setting is incredibly important. I don’t know how I could tell that particular story in any place other than Boston. I've lived in New York for almost two decades now, and that story just wouldn't have worked here.

OBAAT: How did The Hard Bounce come to be published?

TR: Ten years, five agents and four publishers later, Tyrus Books saw fit to run with it.

OBAAT: What kinds of stories do you like to read? Who are your favorite authors, in or out of that area?

TR: I like a little bit of everything. I try to keep it varied. Obviously I read more crime fiction than anything else, what with Thuglit and all. All-time favorites are John D. Macdonald, Stephen King, Harry Crews, Joe Lansdale and Elmore Leonard.

OBAAT: Who are your greatest influences?

TR: The above-mentioned favorites. Of late, I really admire the work of Donald Ray Pollack, Daniel Woodrell and Scott Wolven. Scott's fallen off the map of late, but the guy is one of the greatest short story writers alive. If you read this, Scott come back to us!

OBAAT: Do you outline or fly by the seat of you pants? Do you even wear pants when you write?

TR: I outline in the mush between my ears. I like to keep it loose, because I want to see where the story takes me. Sometimes, you can surprise yourself in the middle of it all.

OBAAT: Give us an idea of your process. Do you edit as you go? Throw anything into a first draft knowing the hard work is in the revisions? Something in between?

TR: I try not to edit as I go. For me, therein lies madness. Madness!!! I try to muscle through, then go back and work the whole thing over again. Then it goes to my wife…then all over again.

OBAAT: If you could give a novice writer a single piece of advice, what would it be?

TR: Tell your story. It really is that simple. It might not be for everybody, but what is?

OBAAT: Favorite activity when you’re not reading or writing.

TR: Playing Superheroes with my kid.

OBAAT: Which do you take to bed at night, the money earned or the good review?

TR: Wait…there's money in this shit???

OBAAT: Would you stop writing if someone paid you enough money so you’d never have to work again, on the condition you could also never write again?

TR: Yup. I love writing almost more than anything else. But there is one thing that I will always love more:

Ass-play.

Just kidding. The answer is reading. Reading is still my greatest love.

OBAAT: If you were just starting out, which would you prefer: 1. Form your own indie publishing house and put your work out in paper and e-book yourself? 2. Go with a small or medium traditional house that offers very little or no advance, a royalty that is only a fraction of what you'd get on your own, and also makes no promise of any type of publicity push, keeping in mind that you also will lose the publishing rights for a period, sometimes indefinitely?

TR: That's a good question. I've worked both sides of that street. They both have distinct advantages and disadvantages. I think that starting out, a traditional route is still the best option. You can have access to reviewers and sales outlets that you don't have with e-books or self-pubbed manuscripts. most successful self-publishers started in the traditional machine and benefited greatly from that machine. Then they turn around and bite the hand that built them. Even worse, they convince new and desperate writers that they're idiots if they follow the same path that built them in the first place.

Publishing is fucking hard. I know this from the Thuglit. It's a loooooot of goddamn work to get it right.

The writing business is like any other. Break the rules after you learn the goddamn rules. I'm still learning the rules. I may choose to break them someday, but not right now.

OBAAT: Beer, mixed drinks, or hard liquor?

TR: I've been on a hard cider kick lately. I think it's a side-effect of my menopause.

OBAAT: Baseball or football?

TR: Baseball.

OBAAT: What question have you always wanted an interviewer to ask, but they never do?

TR: That one

OBAAT: What’s the answer?

TR: "That one"

(Editor’s Note: We may have to retire these two questions. No one is going to beat those responses.)

OBAAT: What are you working on now?

TR: The second Boo & Junior novel, work-titled Rough Trade. Taking my time with it. I'm terrified to disappoint all the people that have been so kind as to show their love to The Hard Bounce. It's a side-effect that I wasn't expecting. The response has been humbling, to put it mildly.

Based on what I’ve read of Todd’s work, he may have to get used to being humbled.

Don’t miss out on The Hard Bounce, or you’ll have no idea what the cool kids are talking about and will be forced to wear a pocket protector and find work as a wedgie mannequin. For the best short noir fiction, Thuglit is still the place to go.

Catching Up

I used to do a lot of reviews for the New Mystery Reader web site, upwards of twenty a year. Now I do a small handful, and almost always of books I’m probably going to like. There are several reasons for this, not the least being the time spent on doing a proper review cut into my own writing time. I also decided a few years ago not to finish books I didn’t like, and you can’t do that when you’ve promised a review. (Well, you shouldn’t. I’ve done it a couple of times and felt lousy about it.)

Now I confine myself to mentioning books I like, both here on my blog and on the book’s Amazon page. (I’ve promised myself to get busy on Goodreads, too, but Goodreads and I don’t seem to mesh well.) Having occupied myself with Bouchercon planning and shameless self-promotion over the past several weeks, I have let these recommendations lapse. Today we’ll start catching up. (Books are listed in the order in which I read them. No ranking is implied.)

Get Shorty, Elmore Leonard. Yes, it’s an old book; so what? Leonard’s satire of Hollywood has all the features his work is recognized for—quirky characters, slightly off-kilter plot, fantastic dialog—and is his funniest book, by far. Those of you who have read it know what I’m talking about. Those who have not read it really ought to. Not as dark as his earlier crime fiction (City Primeval, Split Images), and not quite as representative of his overall work as some others (Swag, Glitz), this may be the best entry point for someone not sure about Leonard. A writer like him will not soon pass this way again.

The Devil Doesn’t Want Me, Eric Beetner. Eric was interviewed about this book as part of my pre-Bouchercon run-up; now I’ll tell you why. Old hit man who may have lost an inch off his fastball is sent a younger hotshot to help him close an outstanding contract. They don’t get along, but they get together to do the job, which is where things go haywire. I’ll not spoil anything, but suffice to say the books starts with a dynamic that reminded me of Armand and Richie from Elmore Leonard’s Killshot (one of my Leonard favorites) and segues seamlessly into a smart chase/action movie where everything is believable.

Prohibition and Slow Burn, Terrence McCauley. McCauley may have the best idea on how to sustain a series: make the setting the consistent thing and rotate the characters. Prohibition follows Terry Quinn in his role of chief enforcer for Archie Doyle in Prohibition-era New York; NYPD detective Charlie Doherty is a subordinate character. Slow Burn is Doherty’s book, taking place after Franklin Roosevelt has taken over as governor and pledged to clean up the Tammany machine in the city. McCauley has a gift for capturing not just the period in which the books are set, but the style of writing used by many of the pulp writers of the day. Prohibition comes first, but I read them in reverse order and did not lose any enjoyment.

The Take, Mike Dennis. Dennis’s first, and a great start. Eddie Ryan is a sad sack bookie who gets in over his head so badly he has little choice but to step out of his comfort zone. Things go wrong—as we knew they would—not in the way we expected. Dennis has a good twist on the femme fatale, enough surprises to keep anyone interested but not confused, and he keeps track of them all so nothing is wasted. The ending would make Quentin Tarentino proud.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hunter S. Thompson. All right, all right, it took me 57 years to get to this; it was worth waiting for. I expect everyone reading this is hip to F&L; if you’re not and you follow the kinds of things I follow, you should be. I’d write more, but I have to get these goddamn bats out of my office.

Dad is Fat, Jim Gaffigan. The popular comic with bits about raising five kids in a two-bedroom New York apartment. Laugh out loud funny in places, smileworthy for the rest. Gaffigan has the knack of making fun of his kids while never leaving any doubt how much he loves them. He reads the audio book himself, which I expect adds a whole nuther level of entertainment.

“Peaches,” Todd Robinson. Nominated for a short story Anthony, and deservedly so. An underworld tough guy encounters his old babysitter in a bar. Where it goes from there, only Todd Robinson could take you. To say more will kill the effect. As good a short story as I’ve read in a couple of years.

Dirty Words, Todd Robinson. An anthology of stories, published before “Peaches.” As with any anthology, some stories are better than others; none are weak. “So Long, Johnnie Scumbag” gets things started with a bang. “Last Call,” “Angelo Death,” and “The Saint of Gunners” all stand out, but the highlights of this collection are two stories featuring the heroes of Robinson’s novel, The Hard Bounce: Boo Malone and his sidekick, Junior. Both stories have the pacing of The Hard Bounce, yet show there’s more than action and dirty words going on in Robinson’s writing.

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…

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.

The Hard Bounce

Todd Robinson has been known for years to those on the inside as Big Daddy Thug, the founder and driving force of Thuglit, one of the most respected noir fiction web sites. (Also the only man alive cool enough to close a rejection letter with, “I’ll go fuck myself now.”) Few have spent the time, effort, and dedication to create not only their own vision, but to help other writers create theirs. There had to be a book of his own in this guy somewhere.

You bet your ass there was. He called it The Hard Bounce. Ain’t nothing easy in a Big Daddy Thug joint.

Boo Malone runs a bar security company with his partner, Junior. Raised in the same orphanage, Boo and Junior have had each other’s backs for as long as either needed someone to have his back. It’s a shoestring operation, working out of the back of one of the bars, but business is growing and both are about as well satisfied as these two are likely to get. They’re irritated when a good-looking but stiff young woman comes to them with a job, but won’t tell them who the real employer is. They’re pissed when they see she came with an ex-cop for backup. It’s a wandering daughter job they know they shouldn’t accept, but the money—and other considerations—are too good.

The Hard Bounce is a PI story without the PIs. The bows to Hammett at the outset set the tone. (Robinson never uses the phrase “wandering daughter job,” but that’s what it is: a powerful man’s kid is missing. No one ever says, “We didn’t really believe you. We believed your two hundred dollars,” either, but that’s exactly what happens. They were offered more than the job should have been worth, but enough more they didn’t mind.) On the plus side, Boo and Junior don’t have to worry about losing their licenses; they don’t have any. Armed with their wits and a small cadre of friends from the orphanage, they’ll find the girl, and, as in any great PI story, a lot more.

The core that holds the book together is the rapport between Boo and Junior. There is nothing they wouldn’t do for each other, though neither can assume sacrifices will be made without comment. They’re funny in the male-bonding, insulting way, even in dire circumstances, though Robinson know the way to keep The Hard Bounce from becoming another cookie-cutter buddy action story is to keep the humor when under the gun more along the lines of whistling through a graveyard.

The characters around them play well. Each fills a role; none were obviously created to do only that. Boo and Junior have the psycho sidekick, but he’s used mostly as an advisor, or a reminder of how they don’t want to handle the problem.

Robinson is also able to avoid the primary pitfall of so much neo-noir, writing The Hard Bounce with sufficient darkness to be taken seriously, not so much you’ll feel dirty after reading it. The bad guys are no more gratuitously bad than is believable. Robinson’s not in the titillation business. He is in the grit business, and no one gets through the story without at least some sticking to them.

Robinson spent almost ten years to find a publisher willing to give The Hard Bounce a chance. It was time well-spent. Such a road is an honorable beginning for a writer. James Lee Burke had the same book rejected 111 times over a period of nine years; Elmore Leonard endured 84 rejections to make the move from Westerns to crime. Robinson has not only created a story and characters to fully engage even a picky reader, he may well have created a franchise with some legs.

Decembers Best Reads

Sex, Thugs, and Rock and Roll - Todd Robinson, editor. Thuglit's second collection. Maybe not as consistent all the way through as the original (Hardcore Hardboiled), but still a first-class collection by excellent writers. Probably out of print, but worth looking up.

Moonlight Mile - Dennis Lehane. The much-anticipated sequel to Gone, Baby, Gone. Also not quite as good as the original, but Lehane now has a much broader oeuvre for comparison. The story is excellent, if somewhat constrained by Kenzie's inner angst over his work. Could use a little more Bubba, but Yefim the Russian gangster is a prize. 

Below the Line, John McFetridge and Scott Albert. Big fun for anyone interested in how movies get made, or don't. A pastiche of fictional stories of what happens on a movie set, drawn from the authors' experiences. The book is good throughout, but the scene where the transport captain takes the star to a hockey game is worth the entire cost. Definitely out of print, worth picking up at a used bookstore if you can find it.

Blood, Guts, and Whiskey Launches May 25

Thuglit’s third anthology, Blood, Guts, and Whiskey, will be available to the public on May 25th, two weeks from today. Todd Robinson’s first two collections (Hardcore Hardboiled, and Sex, Thugs, and Rock and Roll) were widely acclaimed, each containing award-winning stories. The newest arrival promises to be just as good, as the appearance of several writers of renown (Sean Doolittle, Craig MacDonald, Stuart Neville, Dave Zeltserman, to name a few alphabetically) figures to balance out any damage done by my humble contribution.

Blood, Guts, and Whiskey is available for pre-order online at Amazon, Borders, Barnes and Noble, Powells, and in person at any reputable bookstore.

Loot

Saturday's mail brought my first (and hopefully not last) earnings as a fiction writer: a check from Todd Robinson at Thuglit for my story "Green Gables," which will be included in his next anthology. Many thanks to Big Daddy Thug and Lady Detroit for their editorial advice (too rarely found these days), and support.

Recommended Reads

I had been posting recommendations of good reads once a month until I got sick over the holidays and let it lapse. I let it alone because no discussions had been generated, and I didn’t see much point to adding to the multitude of unsolicited reading lists. A discussion in Crimespace a few weeks ago led me to reconsider.

Is it ever a bad idea to promote a book you enjoy? The publishers do damn little for most authors in that regard. Traditional media review outlets trim the space allotted almost daily. Word of mouth recommendations become more important to writers every day; it’s on the recipient to decide if that mouth has a word worth listening to.

Catching up, here are the books I’ve read since the first of the year that I recommend in good conscience.

A Darker Domain, by Val McDermid – My first McDermid. Made me wonder what the hell I’d been waiting for.

The Given Day, by Dennis Lehane – This is the book Lehane was born to write. He covers the ground from Babe Ruth to labor relations to anarchists with empathy, humor, and wonderful writing that never takes you out of the story. Brilliant.

The Ice Harvest, by Scott Phillips – I saw the movie and liked it. As expected, the book is better. Phillips has a deadpan style that carries a story of betrayal and violence lightly, and is laugh out loud funny in places, never inappropriately.

Hardcore Hardboiled, edited by Todd Robinson – Solid collection marking the best of Thuglit for 2007. A wide range of stories told in a wide range of styles, all of which include people you’d rather not meet alone in a dark alley.

The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler – Yes, it’s about the eighth time I’ve read it, and yes, everyone knows all about it, but how can anyone read it and not recommend it? Still pretty much the gold standard for PI fiction.

What the Dead Know, by Laura Lippman – Everything a mystery should be.

Fifty Grand, by Adrian McKinty – The first book of McKinty’s post-Forsythe saga is an outstanding thriller. The rare book where the style is as good as the story, and enhances it.

Priest, by Ken Bruen – I read The Guards Christmas week, and it didn’t excite me. Of course, I was sick and kept dozing off, so that’s not a true test. Bruen’s style may be an acquired taste. If so, then I’m acquiring it.