Penn River's Cops

What is it about cops?

It’s said they’re never around when you need them. Used to be they stole apples from fruit stands and guided lost children home safely. Depending on who you ask they’re either murderous racists or targets. We can all agree cops are those who run toward the danger. Whether that’s because they’re heroes or adrenaline junkies, once again, depends on who you ask.

It’s not unfair to say there are elements of all of the above in the average large police force. Why wouldn’t there be? Police departments recruit from the general population, which means cops are fathers (good and bad), mothers (good and bad), teetotalers and alcoholics, straight and gay, straight shooters and assholes, nice guys and hard-ons, just as they are also tall, short, fat, or thin. Departments do what they can to weed out those less desirable for police work, but no process is perfect and it’s generally accepted that the skill set required to make rank is not the same as what is needed to effectively run a department.

So that’s what it is about cops: just like everyone else, with one difference. To paraphrase Dennis Lehane in an interview I saw last week, writing about cops allows an author to show conflict on multiple levels, and conflict is Drama 101. (This was in response to a question about why he wrote crime, to which he also added that, while trained to write literary short stories, he grew tired of reading about people who were vaguely dissatisfied in Connecticut. Touché.)

Cops resolve conflict for a living, then go home and resolve all the usual bullshit conflicts the rest of us have, with one key difference: it’s impossible to leave the conflicts they dealt with on the job in the locker room when they take off the bag. The residue and frustration soaks into their pores. It’s a lucky cop who can leave that behind. I doubt any of them can do it all the time. One who can probably isn’t a very good cop.

I’ve never been a cop, and doubt I would have been a good one. I lacked the temperament a patrolman needs when I was of an age to be one, and all policing grows from the street cop. (One of my proudest moments as a writer came at this year’s Bouchercon when a retired cop mistook me for one. Yes, I corrected him.) That said, I’ve read enough cop memoirs to have a sympathetic and empathetic outlook, and I’ve been told I get the cop stuff right in my books.

Joseph Wambaugh is the Godfather of realistic cop fiction. He worked as an LA cop for fourteen years before switching to writing full-time, having written the books that made his career while still working. (The New Centurions, The Blue Knight, The Onion Field, and The Choirboys, which didn’t come out until after he left the force.) Wambaugh holds that lots of jobs are more physically dangerous than police work: firefighters, miners, construction workers, to name a few. To him, police work is primarily dangerous psychologically, as is shown by the high rates of divorce, alcoholism, and suicide. I’m far from the first to say Wambaugh’s books worry less about how the cops works on the cases than about how the cases work on the cops

That’s what I’m working toward in the Penns River series. I’m not going to get to Wambaugh’s level. He’s a unique blend of police experience and writing talent that I can’t match on either end. That’s fine. The goal is to up my game beyond what it might otherwise have been. You’re not always going to like my cops. Frankly, as the series goes on, you’re going to find things to like even less about them. That’s okay, too. If I can get readers to empathize, even when they may not agree with the cop’s perspective or actions, I will have succeeded in humanizing them.

I don’t want to write cop heroes or villains. I want to write people who are cops. They may be fathers (good and bad), mothers (good and bad), teetotalers, alcoholics, straight, gay, straight shooters, assholes, nice guys, hard-ons, tall, short, fat, or thin. SO long as they’re people first, and the story is entertaining enough for people other than myself to want to read, that’s a pretty good target to aim for.

A Conversation With Weldon Burge

Weldon Burge is a true Renaissance man: author, editor, and publisher. He’s also one of a diminishing breed: people who can disagree without becoming disagreeable. I first met Weldon at a Creatures, Crimes, and Creativity conference a couple of years ago and we struck up an immediate friendship. It’s a treat to get to chat with him here for you.

One Bite at a Time: Weldon, first, thanks for this. There are things I’ve wanted to ask you since we met but there’s never time at a conference. Let’s start with the writing. Among the joys of the C3 conference is getting to meet writers who don’t write the same stuff I do. I write crime novels; you write primarily horror short stories. What attracts you to horror?

Weldon Burge: First, Dana, it’s always great to see you at the conferences as well. We’ve had interesting discussions—online and in person.

Well, to answer your question, I write (and read) both suspense and horror. And, of course, suspense and horror share a good number of similarities. But horror is my “go-to” genre.

So, what attracts me to horror? Not to be cliché, but I think horror fiction is cathartic—it’s a way to safely face your demons, so to speak. Horror taps those primal, often psychological fears we all harbor. Plus, it’s just fun to be scared. A good horror story is like a ride on a rollercoaster. It’s thrilling and, in a way, cheats death. Yet, you know it’s actually safe. The guy wearing a mask and wielding a bloody axe in a story you’re reading … well, he’s probably not outside your bedroom window. But, then again, he may be …

OBAAT: Short stories are hard for me. My best ideas seem to want to be novels; I can write a flash piece when I need to. Short stories are a struggle for me, yet they’re right in your wheelhouse. What is it about short stories that resonates so strongly in you? Do you have plans to expand into novels?

WB: I’ve always loved anthologies, so it’s probably not a surprise that I enjoy writing short stories. Nothing against novels, but reading one is a commitment. Not so much with a short story. And I think writing a short story requires greater focus and precision from a writer. You have to get at the characterization, setting, and plot pretty quickly, unlike a novel where you have more leeway when it comes to developing those three elements. Writing a short story is like telling a joke—you have to get to the punch line ASAP. Nobody wants to listen to a joke that’s 300 pages long.

I’ve been asked to expand several of my stories (especially “White Hell, Wisconsin”) into novels. And I have a truly disturbed hit man character, Francis “Flash” Conwright, who has appeared in several of my short stories. I think he may deserve a novel at some point. I’m currently working on a police procedural that—surprise!—has horror elements.

OBAAT:  I learned at this year’s C3 that you like to listen to heavy metal when writing. How does that help you and who do you like to listen to?

WB: Well, when you’re writing horror, I guess it’s natural to have heavy metal in the background. Inspirational? I don’t know. It may simply be my preference. But having screaming guitars, pounding bass and drums, and growling vocals in the background is probably more impactful to writing horror than listening to, say, Adele. As to what I listen to, I’m pretty broad, going back to Blue Cheer in the late ‘60s to Megadeth and Metallica today. I also often listen to rock/blues guitarists like Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, Gary Hoey, and Joe Bonamassa, to name a few.

OBAAT: Your full-time job is working as an editor, both of fiction and non-fiction. Do you feel your editorial work helps your writing?

WB: Oh, definitely! Sitting on both sides of the desk (the writer submitting material, the editor accepting material) has helped in my own career in more ways than I count. As an editor, I’ve worked with somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred writers. I hope that those writers have learned from me, but I can safely say that I’ve learned far more from them. As the editor at Smart Rhino Publications, I’ve enjoyed working with other fiction writers, all at different levels of their careers. I hope those relationships have been mutually beneficial.

OBAAT: Do you ever worry your editing will spill over into your fiction and influence it too much? Or, even worse, that you’ll inadvertently appropriate something you editing, possibly years ago? I ask this for a reason, as I’ve considered doing some editing and both of these things worry me.

WB: That is actually something I’ve recently contemplated. I’ve been working far too long on the novel I mentioned earlier. A writer friend of mine told me, “You know what your problem is? You’re an editor.” “What do you mean?” “How many times have you rewritten the first chapter?” “Oh …” Switching gears can become problematic.

As far as appropriating something I’ve previously edited … well, I’m not aware that has ever happened. Not that it hasn’t, just that I’m not aware of it. I just don’t worry about that sort of thing. If anything, a story may spur something in my own imagination. But I’m keen on not plagiarizing.

OBAAT: When did you get the idea for Smart Rhino Publications?

WB: I always wanted to publish horror and suspense fiction. I acquired the web domain for Smart Rhino Publications back in 2000. But, it wasn’t until print-on-demand and ebooks came along that I could see how to make things work. Being an independent publisher back in 2000 was foolhardy at best. I finally saw a way to jump into the fray back in 2011, when I started planning our first anthology, Zippered Flesh: Tales of Body Enhancements Gone Bad! I know a lot of people despise Amazon. But, prior to the launch of Createspace and Kindle, Smart Rhino was only an idea. I’m glad it’s no longer that.

OBAAT: How did you come up with the name Smart Rhino?

WB: OK, now this will probably sound bizarre. I had a dream one night in which I saw Rodin’s “The Thinker” with the huge head of a rhinoceros. When I suddenly awoke from the dream, I immediately thought, “Wow that must have been a smart rhino!” Ah, dreams …

OBAAT:  What surprised you about getting a new publishing venture off the ground, whether good or bad?

WB: I got lucky with the first anthology, Zippered Flesh. I had no idea how well it would go over, but the book garnered many great reviews and was largely accepted by the horror community. Our second book, a suspense anthology titled Uncommon Assassins, also went over well. The third book, Zippered Flesh 2, included two stories that earned Bram Stoker Award nominations. That told me Smart Rhino had arrived. Just this past year, the novella The Box Jumper by Lisa Mannetti received a Stoker nomination, and was deemed “Novella of the Year” by This Is Horror in the UK. So, I’m jazzed about Smart Rhino’s success so far. We’ve now published 10 books, and have two more anthologies in planning stages. Trying to keep the momentum going!

OBAAT: Now that Smart Rhino is up and running, what is your biggest challenge? Your greatest joy?

WB: As just about every indie publisher knows, funding is the chief challenge. For most of us, it’s more a labor of love than a profitable venture. So, we’re always looking for more reviews, more stature on social media, different ways to market our books. For me, I’m always looking for more money to start the next Smart Rhino book project. The success of one book feeds the launch of another. We’ve been fairly lucky so far in that regard. But it really comes down to word of mouth from the readers who enjoy our books and spread the word—and, of course, that is the hardest marketing for a publisher to obtain. Without that support from our readers, Smart Rhino would not survive.

As for the greatest joy, I love working with and helping other writers. I love when I hear a reader say something like: “I bought the anthology for the Graham Masterton story, but I enjoyed the stories by several authors I’d never heard of before. I need to search out their other work.” That, for me, is what it’s all about. I also fully appreciate the “name” writers who share that same drive to help others.

OBAAT: It’s pretty well established that between writing, editing, publishing, and the day job, you don’t have a lot of free time. What do you like to do to relax when the stray opportunity presents?

WB: I like to travel with my wife, go to concerts, go to the beach—the normal things, I suppose, that people do to relax. (We seem to have been visiting many wineries lately.) I’d probably have to retire to really relax … and even then …

October's Best Reads

Back in the saddle in October and I have a few true treats to share.

The Long and Faraway Gone, Lou Berney. Deserves every award it won, and then some. A look at two damaged people who deal with their losses in different ways, told through examinations of two cold cases. Berney uses the wit he showed in Gutshot Straight and Whiplash River to keep what could have been a depressing story hopeful, never unrealistically so. Every time the story comes to a point where a lesser book would take one route, Berney takes the other. The result is unfailingly effective, both emotionally and as entertainment. A truly special book.

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee. I went to see David Swinson at a banned book event where he read from Lee’s masterpiece and confessed afterward I was the guy who’d never read it. David made me bring his copy home with me. Another book that deserves all its praise. The core story of racial hatred didn’t resonate with me as much as the book’s reputation implied, mainly because I’m 60 years old and there wasn’t much in there I didn’t already know. What surprised me was Lee’s easy writing and sly wit, each of which create wonderful characters and characterizations. To serve TKAM solely as a moral lesson does it a disservice. It’s a masterful piece of writing.

One or the Other, John McFetridge. Book Three of the Eddie Dougherty series, this time starting with the Brinks robbery and going through the 1976 Montreal Olympics. The tease of homicide has worn thin with Eddie and his personal life grows more important. McFetridge continues his move into Joe Wambaugh territory, writing less about cases than how the cases affect the cop. A nice look into the shifting responsibilities of a cop as cases come and go, told with all the style and wit one has come to expect from McFetridge.

Free Stuff from Grind Joint

Last week the marketing barrage featured the first book of the Penns River series. Worst Enemies. Today my tease is Chapter One of the second book, Grind Joint, released Wednesday past by Down & Out Books and available through the D&OB web site, along with all finer online outlets.

GRIND JOINT

There is always an easy solution to every human problem–neat, plausible, and wrong.

–H. L. Mencken 

[ 1 ]

The building used to be a mini-mall. Penney’s on one end, Monkey Ward’s on the other, with a handful of little local shops in between. Nail salon, barber, wing joint, liquor store. They closed years ago, boarded up the windows. The Blockbuster in an outbuilding went tits up last summer. The toy store next door saw half a dozen re-inventions before it managed to scrape by as one of those operations where everything was five bucks or less. That and the bank were all that were left. Kenny Czarniak would have thought it ironic, how only the bank and the discount store survived amid the shells of failure, but any sense of irony had left him long ago.

He parked fifty yards from the service door in back. Room for at least a thousand cars in the lot. Construction crews didn’t need ten percent of the spaces, but casino management wanted the employees to get used to parking away from the entrances so customers could have the good spaces when the doors opened next week. Pulled his gloves on with his teeth and fished the casino keys out of his jacket pocket.

Some assholes had left bags of trash by the door again. Not everyone loved the idea of a casino in town. Some thought it hilarious to pull teenage harassments like dumping garbage or a flattened road kill in front of the doors. Never bothered to think the only person they inconvenienced was Kenny, who was just like them and didn’t give a shit whether Penns River had a casino or not so long as he had a place to work.

He looked down to find the key and when he looked up he saw the pile of trash was actually a bum sleeping one off. They didn’t often come this far from the old business district. Too spread out here, a five mile walk to the shelter where some of them took a bus into Pittsburgh to bum quarters off shoppers. Kenny’d nudge him awake and tell him to keep moving, point him west on Leechburg Road, town’s that way.

Eight feet away and Kenny noticed the guy’s face had an odd color. Leaned over for a closer look and realized the discoloration was ice crystals. Then he saw the bullet holes, one over each eye, and dropped the keys grabbing the cell out of his pocket.

Twenty Questions With Rich Zahradnik

Rich Zahradnik was born in Poughkeepsie, New York, in 1960 and received his B.A. in journalism and political science from George Washington University. He was a journalist for over thirty years, working as a reporter and editor in all major news media, including online, newspaper, broadcast, magazine and wire services. He held editorial positions at CNN, Bloomberg News, Fox Business Network, AOL and The Hollywood Reporter.

In January 2012, he was one of 20 writers selected for the inaugural class of the Crime Fiction Academy, a first-of-its-kind program run by New York's Center for Fiction.

As a novelist, Rich is the author of the critically acclaimed Coleridge Taylor Mystery series, of which the second volume, Drop Dead Punk, won the gold medal for mystery/thriller e-book in the 2016 Independent Publisher Book Awards and was a finalist in the mystery category of the 2016 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. The first book in the series, Last Words, won the bronze medal for mystery/thriller ebook in the 2015 IPPYs and honorable mention for mystery in the 2015 Foreword Reviews IndieFab Book of the Year Awards.

Rich He lives with his wife Sheri and son Patrick in Pelham, New York, where writes fiction and teaches kids how to publish newspapers. His new book is the third installment of the Coleridge Taylor series, A Black Sail.

One Bite at a Time: Tell us about A Black Sail.

Rich Zahradnik: It's Book Three in a series featuring police reporter Coleridge Taylor, who works in the dirty, busted, burning, crooked New York of the 1970s. (Sort of a dystopia, only in the past.) A Black Sail is set during the Bicentennial celebrations, when 16 tall ships of sail and 53 naval vessels called on New York to be a part of the festivities over the 200th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. These events provide a backdrop to Taylor's efforts to solve the murder of woman whose body is fished from New York Harbor with packages of heroin strapped to it. He'd much rather work that story than write about pretty ships, but is forced to do both.

OBAAT: Readers love to ask where authors get their ideas and most authors reply with something along the lines of “we’re tripping over them. The trick is to find the idea that works best for me.” What made this idea worth developing, and how much development from the original germ was required?

RZ: This one was easy. I’m writing a crime series that started in 1975. The third book was going to fall in 1976. I love sailing ships, though I know very little about them. I’ve read all but one of the Patrick O’Brian historical novels. I decided to set the mystery in A Black Sail in and around the Bicentennial events that brought 16 ships of sail to New York Harbor. It let me indulge my personal interest while telling a New York crime story.

OBAAT: How long did it take to write A Black Sail, start to finish?

RZ: Six months.

OBAAT: Where did Coleridge Taylor come from? In what ways is he like, and unlike, you?

RZ: He comes a little from my journalism career, but we are quite different. He’s a much better reporter than I ever was and has worked the police beat far longer than I ever did. His focus, almost his only focus, is the story he’s on, whereas I was always distracted by other things, like writing novels.

OBAAT: In what time and place is A Black Sail set and why was this time and place chosen?

RZ: New York City, 1976. The city because I’m a New Yorker (of course). The time because I wanted to write a mystery without all the “modern” instant DNA matching, facial recognition in seven seconds and video cameras everywhere that appears in “today” stories. Much of that stuff is sci-fi invented by TV. I wanted a shoe-leather-and-phone-booth mystery.

OBAAT: How did A Black Sail come to be published?

RZ: My agent Dawn Dowdle sold the first book, Last Words, and ideas for three more in the series to Camel Press in Seattle. A year ago, they extended the series to six.

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

RZ: Mysteries, thrillers, science fiction, fantasy, YA (many of the sub-genre), middle grade and some classics (Dickens, for example). Writers: Michael Connelly, Derek Raymond, Raymond Chandler, Ray Bradbury, Charles Dickens, William Gibson, Michael Chabon, Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Woody Guthrie, Phil Ochs, Bruce Springsteen.

OBAAT: What made you decide to be an author?

RZ: I read avidly when I was a kid and was fascinated with how books transported me, put entire worlds in my head. I wanted to figure out how to do the same thing for others.

OBAAT: How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing crime fiction?

RZ: Though I didn’t cover the police beat lots, I did it some, plus I handled a fair amount of white-collar wrong doing. Plus, I’ve always read crime. Like since Hardy Boys. Writers read.

OBAAT: What do you like best about being a writer?

RZ: Putting those movies in people’s heads.

OBAAT: Who are your greatest influences? (Not necessarily writers. Filmmakers, other artists, whoever you think has had a major impact on your writing.)

RZ: An English teacher named John Rehl, Tony Hillerman, Chandler and Hammett, Ray Bradbury and Isaac Asimov, both of whom I got the chance to meet and speak with. Bruce Springsteen and every folk singer who’s told the world real. “Winter’s Bone,” “The Last of the Mohicans.” Movies by Ken Loach, Jim Jarmusch, and John Sayles.

OBAAT: Do you outline or fly by the seat of you pants?

RZ: I’m a half pantser. I outline the first few chapters—a few sentences on Scrivener cards—write, outline some more, stop in the middle to reorganize, then go on again. I could never outline in entirety, as I get too antsy to write the initial scenes I see and they often lead to other ideas.

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?

RZ: I write a first draft to the end, hardly looking back except to check for continuity. I dread the second draft. I do four revisions (two on screen, two on paper read out loud).

OBAAT: Endings are hard and can make or break a book. Americans as a whole tend to like happy endings, and those are the books that tend to sell best. What do you look for in an ending?

RZ:  Yeah, the good guy has to win in the current series, though in the latest book he learns some tough lessons.

OBAAT: Who is your intended audience?

RZ: Mystery lovers, which probably means those over thirty or forty, mainly women. My books are called historical, though I think they feel a bit different because the Seventies was such a crazy decade and near to us in time (or me at least). I try and give the reader a mystery they can’t solve until the end set at a thrilling pace that really speeds up in the third act. So it’s for folks who like that sort of story.

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

RZ:  Don’t. Give. Up. I’m here today because of all the people I met along the way at workshops, conferences, reading groups who didn’t stick with it. It’s often hard and long, but those who stay in the game, get there.

OBAAT: Generally speaking the components of a novel are story/plot, character, setting, narrative, and tone. How would you rank these in order of their importance in your own writing, and can you add a few sentences to tell us more about how you approach each and why you rank them as you do?

RZ: Story/plot: People reading a mystery want to follow a whodunit. The story’s got to keep them engaged. Story’s the game.

Characters: But if your characters are cardboard or boring, they’ll bail on you, no matter how intricate the plot. Intriguing complex characters are required in series books—in all books. (Setting goes in here for me because I try to make New York City another character in the book, much like Hillerman did with the Navajo Tribal Nation.)

Tone: Tone is a part of voice and the books that get noticed, even in crime, are those with a distinct voice. I’m working on this hard, usually in revision.

Narrative: Same as plot to me.

OBAAT: If you could have written any book of the past hundred years, what would it be, and what is it about that book you admire most?

RZ: Slaughterhouse 5: It’s got time travel. It’s funny. It’s tragic. It’s an anti-war novel. Written by a World War II veteran, which makes it politically bulletproof. And it covers an incident many didn’t/don’t know about—the fire bombing of Dresden.

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

RZ: As a volunteer, I teach kids from fourth to 12^th how to publish newspapers here in Pelham and in schools in New York City.

OBAAT: What are you working on now?

RZ: Book 4 of the Coleridge Taylor series, tentatively titled The Summer, Hot and Dark. It’s set in 1977, which means Son of Sam and the July blackout.

OBAAT: One last question. Having read your bio, I have to ask: You ever pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?

RZ: I can double down on that one. Not only was I born in a city made  famous in a line from one crime film, but I now live in one featured in the title another, The Taking of Pelham 123. Though to be accurate, as I must, the Pelham in the film title refers to the No. 6 train stopping at Pelham Bay Park in the Bronx, on the other side of the Pelham town line. (The Bronx has a lot of Pelham place names, going back to the Pell family, lords of the manner). So born in one crime film reference, live in another.

Free Stuff From Worst Enemies, Available Wednesday

Everyone is inundated with promotion. I’m as guilty as the next author. We’re all looking for some way to get our book to stand out among the hundreds of others you’re bombarded with every day. It’s not like we want to irritate you with something we think is a clever way to cajole you into buying our deathless prose. We have to do something, or the book we spent a year working on will slip out of the public consciousness without a trace. I’m not complaining. As Hyman Roth said to Michael Corleone, “This is the life we’ve chosen.”

The only thing an author has control over is to write the best book he or she can; it’s up to the audience to decide whether to buy it or not. So, I held up my end. I gave you my best effort. Is it worth your time and money? Only you can say. To help you out, here’s Chapter 1 of Worst Enemies. Free gratis, as Al Swearengen would say. If you want to read more, the book drops Wednesday from Down & Out.

WORST ENEMIES

Until I got married, I was my own worst enemy.

- Unknown

CHAPTER 1

Tom Widmer needed to pay attention. It’s not every night someone tells you how to kill his wife.

Hard enough to hear in Tease as it was, the tekno/disco/hip-hop cranked to Volume Eleven, so loud the pulsing in his eardrums ruined the floor’s foot massage. Chastity’s nipple in his ear didn’t help. She had the rest of her tit wrapped against his cheek like she was about to go off shift in fifteen minutes and needed to get him into the VIP Room now, which she was and did. This was her go-to move when time got short: sit on the arm of his chair, slip the teddy or camisole or whatever they call that thing she wore off-stage out of the way, then ease it in. Usually he didn’t mind. Usually it cost him an extra fifty for a trip to the VIP Room. Not tonight.

Tom turned his head and Chastity gave him a mouthful. He couldn’t resist a quick lick before he pulled away. “I’m sorry, baby. Marty and I gotta talk. Maybe later.”

Chastity pulled a pout. “I go off shift in fifteen minutes, Tommy. Can’t it wait?”

Tom looked at Marty and saw no, it couldn’t wait. “Sorry, babe. Next time.”

“You’re just a tease.” The smile that never reached her eyes didn’t hide the irritation in her voice. Fifteen minutes wasted. She made a show of tucking the nipple away and ran her tongue around his ear. Bit the lobe for good measure. “Next time. You’ll be sorry you passed.”

Marty waited for her to get out of hearing range, about three feet. “Can I have your attention now, or do I have to wait for your dick to get soft again?”

“You’re sure it has to be tomorrow?” Tom swallowed the bottom half of his gin and tonic, looked for the waitress.

Marty put his hand over Tom’s and forced the empty glass onto the table. “Pay attention. This has to be done before Monday. She hired a lawyer. You understand me? She already hired a fucking lawyer. Once they serve me with papers, there’s no way anyone will believe a burglar killed her. Thursday’s my regular night out and we have this thing with her family over the weekend. It has to be tomorrow.”

“That’s not a lot of time to plan.”

“Fucking A, and I got tired of waiting for you to do it. Everything you need’s in the car.”

“My car?”

“No, dumbass, in my car. How the fuck would I get it into your car?”

Tom really wanted that gin; the tonic had become optional. He’d had fun the past few months, basking in young pussy while he and Marty talked about killing each other’s wives, a couple of lap dances for the road. He figured his divorce was almost as close as Marty’s, and Marian would get half of what was already only half as much as it had been, the market’s death by a thousand cuts bleeding him every day. The sun would shine brighter in a world without Marian.

Now Marty was good to go. Carol had a lawyer and Tom didn’t know for a fact that Marian didn’t. Marty was right: once papers were filed, neither wife could catch cold without her husband falling under suspicion. Of course, wife killing was much more entertaining as an abstraction, and Tom had never killed anything more evolved than an insect in his life. Buried the whole cage when the kids’ pet hamster died so he wouldn’t have to touch Fluffy. Still, it was now or never. Kill her or face the idea of living like an intern again, running the copier for guys whose cufflinks cost more than his car.

Marty was talking. Probably had been, now that Tom thought about it. “You gotta be there at ten o’clock. Earlier and she’ll still be up. Later and it’s too close to when I come home.”

“Huh? Wait. Run that first part by me again.”

Marty squeezed Tom’s wrist until he grimaced. “Pay attention, dickhead. You fuck this up and I’ll come after you myself. There’s no way you’re doing this half-assed and taking me down with you. You listening to me?”

Tom nodded, tried to make eye contact with the waitress without moving his head. She wanted fifty bucks, he’d give her fifty bucks. A hundred. Just someone bring him a drink, for Christ’s sake.

Marty didn’t need a drink. “One more time. The stuff’s in the car. Black pullover, black jeans, black shoes and socks. One of those head things like Hines Ward wears when it’s cold.”

“What? You mean like a helmet?”

“No, not a helmet. Jesus Christ. Are all stockbrokers this dumb? No wonder the economy’s in the shitter. It’s like a skull cap, tight, pulls over your head, covers everything except your face. Race car drivers wear them.”

“Balaclavas?”

“If you say so. At least you’re listening. Put everything on, darken your face up some—”

“How should I do that?”

“Do what?”

“Darken my face.”

“I don’t know. Use some charcoal from the grill.”

“We have a gas grill.”

“Then buy some charcoal. Jesus Christ. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars here. Spend three bucks on a lousy bag of Kingsford.”

“It’s not the money. How am I going to explain the charcoal when I have a gas grill? It won’t look right.”

Marty rubbed his forehead with a thumb and index finger, closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. “What are you, autistic? Throw the rest of the bag away. It’s just charcoal. It ain’t like they got serial numbers on them. Use dirt if you want to. Just darken up your face.”

Tom had a thing about being dirty, showered before and after work every day. Sanitized his hands after he blew his nose, snot on them or not. Right now he’d swim naked through a pig trough if someone would just bring him a beer. Lite beer, even.

“Look at me, you son of a bitch.” Marty grabbed Tom’s cheeks between a thumb and forefinger. “I’m desperate here. This has to happen, and it has to happen tomorrow. You don’t do this and I’ll ruin you. I’ll tell your wife what I know and she’ll get half of what you got left plus child support. And you’ll probably lose your license. Then what are you gonna do?”

 “How you figure to get my license?” Marty could tell stories about Tom lawyers would line up for like politicians at a microphone. Being a randy drunk couldn’t cost him his stockbroker’s license.

“Remember that time you told me about that old broad—what’s her name?—Finnegan? How you used money in her account for what you called ‘leverage’ to float that hedge fund thing a few years ago? You made a bundle off that, didn’t you?”

“She didn’t lose a dime.”

“She didn’t make any, either. You told me how you got her to sign shit she wasn’t sure what it was? Got to be records of that, right? You move money around, something she has to sign for, I can’t believe they just throw the paperwork away when the money gets moved back. I’m no stockbroker, but they must be pretty fussy about their bookkeeping. I mean, it’s money, right? No other reason for a stockbroker to be in business.”

Fuck. Fuck. Marty told anyone about that and it was over for Tom. He’d be lucky if his old man could get him a job delivering uniforms. If he didn’t go to jail. He opened his mouth to talk. Marty beat him to it.

“Wait. Don’t say it. How do you know I won’t tell anyway? Right? That’s what you’re thinking. Well, think again. You already have me dead to rights for solicitation of murder. That’s a capital offense. If we quit dicking around and go through with it, both of us have enough on the other guy that neither one can afford to talk.” Marty cocked his head, raised his eyebrows. Showed the palms of his hands like he’d just said something so self-explanatory a retard would understand. 

Tom was drunk, not retarded. He understood perfectly that he was well and truly fucked. Didn’t matter anymore whether he killed her or not. Don’t kill her and Marty would ruin him, maybe even send him to jail. Much as Tom disliked getting dirty, he liked the idea of taking one up the ass even less. Kill this woman he’d never met, never ever seen, who’d never done him any harm, and he knew Marty would hold up his end of the deal. Just watching him, the way he acted when he talked about it, Tom knew Marty wanted to do Marian. Hell, he was looking forward to it. Then Tom would be out from under forever.

Maybe he should pretend she was Marian.

Creatures, Crimes, and Creativity - Part II

Sorry to leave you hanging with the happenings at the Creatures, Crimes, and Creativity conference. Let’s jump right back in.

Saturday 10:45 Music, Quiet, or TV? What keeps you motivated while writing? Weldon Burge, moderator.

• Weldon Burge listens to heavy metal when writing horror.
• Liza Brown likes to have “How It’s Made” on television. The voice of the narrator is soothing to her.
• Rick Ollerman prefers jazz, mostly bop. Nothing with words.
• Kathryn O’Sullivan wants silence, with a location that allows her to look out a window and see some nature.

Saturday 1:15 Fan Mail. Austin Camacho, moderator.

Alexandra Sokoloff takes feedback from readers. She’s actually rewriting some character relationships in her TV pilot based on The Huntress series to reflect reader comments.

Craig Robertson once got a letter from a fan who bought a copy inscribed, “To Daddy. Christmas 2014.” The reader was concerned Craig’s father didn’t care for his work, but it was someone else’s father. As Craig said, “I stopped referring to my father as “Daddy” long before 2014.”

Unexpected knowledge from Allan Ansorge: The tradition of signing books came from the days when literacy was a rare skill and one soldier would read books to the others. It was the reader who signed the book, not the author. (Editor’s Note: Not that knowledge is unexpected from Allan. He’s full of it. This particular morsel was unexpected.) (Editor’s Note to the previous Editor’s Note: Knowledge is what Allan Ansorge is full of. Any other inference a reader might draw from that comment is regrettable.)

Allan Ansorge gets letter from people who want to be his editors. He forwards these letter to his editor, where they are, I’m sure, greatly appreciated.

Saturday 2:15 One Star, Five Stars, or Blacklisted? The Effects of Reviews. Marcelle Thiebaux, moderator.

This panel morphed into a discussion of marketing ideas that do not condense well into sound bites. Suffice to say it was far more informational than I had expected, and I learned things I will be using soon and often, including The Secret to Writing Success™ according to Jeff Markowitz: A woman once asked him to sign her book. While he did she asked if he’d like to know why she bought his book.

“Of course,” Jeff said.

“I looked through it and saw it had a lot of italics.” And there you have it. The secret to literary fame and fortune, spelled out in a few short words! You’re welcome.

Saturday 3:15 Suspense, Action, or Conflict? The prime elements of a novel. Michael Black, moderator.

Participation in this panel was, without a doubt, second only to my first book launch as the most enjoyable experience of my writing career to date. Heartfelt thanks to Michael Black, Austin Camacho, and Reed Farrel Coleman for making this such a treat.

Saturday 4:15 Insights from a Librarian on How to Get Into the “System.” Karen Hagerman, presenter.

Again, a presentation that did not lend itself to sound bites. Key takeaways were

• All libraries post their materials selection policy on their web sites.
• Libraries get large discounts from the big distributors, but they are not restricted to buying only from them.
• Check your local libraries’ web sites for how to get on their Local Authors shelf.
• Resources to investigate:
• SELF-e
• BibioBook
• OverDrive

Keynote Speaker: Alexandra Sokoloff

Alexandra Sokoloff has been successful as a screenwriter, a novelist, and was in early on the benefits of e-books. She outlined her career and showed a good balance of what can be accomplished, never letting anyone forget it’s hard work. What stuck out in my mind was how she paid her dues as a reader when she first got to LA, which allowed her to see what worked in scripts and what did not. No question a wealth of talent allowed to put those lessons to good use, but even with talent, success requires one puts in the time.

Sunday 10:45 Self-publishing discussion. Alexandra Sokoloff, originator.

Another wonderful quality of C3 is the organizers’ willingness to turn on a dime, and the atmosphere the con breeds. Alexandra Sokoloff picked up a vibe that lots of people had an interest in a self-publishing wrkshop and—voila—it happened. Thanks to Alexandra and her co-presenters, Cerece Rennie Murphy and Glenn Parris, for not only providing lots of fodder, but encouraging a spirited back-and-forth with the audience. Highlights:

• Authors can edit their Amazon keywords and categories on the fly. Check into what more successful writers of similar topics use and learn from them.
• Limited giveaways through Amazon work best with series books, as one book given away may lead to other purchases.
• No one had much good to say about Barnes and Noble/Nook or Smashwords in the area of author support. Rumor has it Smashwords may be getting better.
• Amazon’s ACX audio book platform allows authors to audition potential readers and create e-books with minimal effort. The catch is the author does not have the flexibility she would have with a print or e-book.
• Book Bub is the 800-pound gorilla of the marketing business, but they’ve become expensive, possibly prohibitively so for a new author.
• Cerece and Alexandra have used good e-book formatters for as little as $30. The freeware Calibre is good—I use it myself—but Cerece found a professional was very helpful in adding Japanese characters to her books.

In summary, an outstanding conference on all fronts. The facility was perfect for the size con this was, the food was excellent, the panels showed a high level of entertainment and information, and the bar situation was the best I’ve seen at a C3 yet. Keynote speakers Reed Farrel Coleman and Alexandra Sokoloff went above and beyond to ensure all attendees had a great experience. Special Guests Cerece Rennie Murphy and Donna Andrews also added energy and insights. Congratulations are due Austin and Denise Camacho, Sandra Bowman, Cynthia Lauth, Carol Markowitz, and everyone associated with the conference for pulling off a damn near perfect event.

On a personal note, it was a treat to get to renew/begin acquaintances with Donna Andrews, Allan Ansorge, Weldon Burge, Reed Farrel Coleman, Belinda Gordon, Puja Guha, B.R. Kingsolver, Millie Mack, Jeff and Carol Markowitz, James Noll, Rick Ollerman, Kathryn O’Sullivan, Craig Robertson, Alexandra Sokoloff, and Sandra Webster, as well as the aforementioned conference organizers who make C3 more of a pleasure each year. I’m ready for 2017 right now. Hope to see as many of you as possible there again.