Bill Crider Rides Again

Bill Crider

Having a few health issues in recent months like throwing arterial fibrillations aka AFibs and finally had ablation surgery to get my heart back to more normal, I've been rereading some favorite authors. One of my all time favs was Bill Crider, and not just because Bill and his wife, Judy were Texans who also became close friends to both Elmer Grape and I for many years, but I personally am in love with Blacklin County, Sherrif Dan Rhodes. Growing up in Post, Texas where the Garza County Sheriff was our major law enforcement officer I could definitely relate to Rhodes. When Elmer and I opened our bookstore, Mysteries & More in Austin, Bill was our Grand Opening Event Signing Author. Then every time he had a new book come out, we invited to him come up fron their home in nearby Houston for a signing. July always came, too.

Bill also wrote everything from PIs to Westerns and Sci-fi to a College prof series and even a kid's book. He also wrote a jillion words in short stories published in countless magazines and anthologies. Bill once suggested he and I change our name to Minny Moore because we invaribly were both in the anthologies with big Name Authors, "Bill Doe or Jan Doe" would be named on the book's all impoetand FRONT cover then that next line always stating "with Many More." Then Crider and Grape were named on the back cover.

Angela Crider Neary

The Criders had two children, now adult, Angela and Allen, I'd briefly met them but not until Judy's death did I begin a friendship with, daughter Angela, who came to Texas fairly often, looking in on Bill.

Since Bill's passing, my friendship with Angela has grown. I also claim her hubby, Tom Neary as one of my sons by another mother.

Angela had recently written to me that Bill's Sheriff books were being repackaged and I said "This is something I must learn more about and need to publicize. SleuthSayers is the perfect vehicle for me to do that.

JG: First Angela, please tell me about you and your family and writing background:

ACN: Angela Crider Neary was born in Texas to Bill and Judy Crider and currently lives in the California Wine Country with her husband, Tom Neary, and their extremely spoiled cat, Roxie.

I've been an attorney for 30+ years was inspired to write my first mystery novella about a cat detective who fancies himself to be the Sam Spade of cats, LI’L TOM AND THE PUSSYFOOT DETECTIVE BUREAU (THE CASE OF THE PARROTS DESAPARECIDOS), set in one of my favorite areas in San Francisco, Telegraph Hill (and, of course, inspired by having a dad for a writer!) The second book in the series is LI’L TOM AND THE PUSSYFOOT DETECTIVE BUREAU (THE CASE OF THE NEW YEAR'S DRAGON). The books can be enjoyed by ages ranging from 10 to100.

JG: Angela's also written short stories appearing in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Bouchercon Anthology, and in Down & Out Books. See her Amazon Author Page for more information.

Angela and Tom are focusing on maintaining her father, Bill Crider’s, literary legacy by ensuring that his works are updated and available for both new and old readers to enjoy.

JG: Explain what you mean that's new about Bill's books?

ACN: In updating the Sheriff Dan Rhodes series, which includes 25 novels about a laid-back lawman in a small Texas town who solves crimes with humor and insight into human nature they've begun refreshing the series with a "mobile-first design" that features new covers, ebooks, and audio books, with a new release planned for every 4-6 weeks. https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/. You can find out more about the refresh here: https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/new

Additionally, the eBooks now have individual detail pages with links to all the places where they are available.

For example:

TOO LATE TO DIE (book 1 of 25)

https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/read/1

To change the link to another book, just change the number on the end of the link. Above the number is 1 for book 1.

SHOTGUN SATURDAY NIGHT (book 2 of 25)

https://www.sheriffdanrhodes.com/read/2

For book 2, just replace the 1 with a 2.

These web pages have sub-links to all the available places to find the eBooks: Apple, Amazon, Kobo, B&N, etc. Web pages for the entire series also feature:

• Book-Links to All Available Retailers
• Concise “1-line” Book Summaries
• Book Summaries
• Editorial Reviews (praise for Bill Crider)

This project is close to their hearts and they hope readers will continue to enjoy the series for many years to come.

JG: As a kid did you realize what Bill did? Teacher and writer?? Did either one determine your path?

Growing up, Angela was always surrounded by books due to her dad’s collecting addiction and she has been an avid fiction reader all her life. Some of her most indelible memories are of spending hours upon end in used bookstores with dad while he browsed the shelves. From a young age, I was aware my father was an English professor. My brother, Allen and I would sometimes accompany him to his office in the “Old Main” building at Howard Payne University that seemed to our young minds more like a haunted house than a university campus administration building, with its Romanesque architecture, rounded arches, towers, and stonework. Her father would take Allen and I swimming in the university dorm swimming pool and to HPU Yellowjacket football games.

Regarding his writing career, Bill said in the Acknowledgements for his last Sheriff Dan Rhodes book that his daughter and son, Allen, “had to put up with a father who often sat behind closed doors in the evening instead of watching TV or playing board games with the family. They never complained maybe they were just glad to get rid of me for a while. But I like to think they understood what I was doing and forgave my absence.”

While Angela remembers him sequestering himself in his office to write, she never felt as if he was gone for too long or that he didn’t spend enough time with his wife and kids. He managed to carefully balance and accomplish both writing and time with friends and family.

JG: I mean this as a compliment, but know I'm not the only one to sense this Texas sheriff's character being this, "Aw shucks ma'am. It weren't nothin'," as Rhodes kinda digs his boot toe into the dirt. I think Bill even says those words in his first book. Was that part of Bill's actual nature or did he deliberately create this persona?

ACN: I never asked Dad about the inspiration for the Sheriff Dan Rhodes or his persona. I believe this is because when I read the books, I really do always pictures Rhodes as having a personality and nature similar to my father. Bill may not have intended to base the Sheriff Dan Rhodes character on his own characteristics, but it may have been a natural outgrowth of his disposition and how he viewed the world. Dad grew up in a small town and raised his kids in one, too, so I always pictures these locales while reading the Sheriff Dan Rhodes books, although Clearview Texas, where Rhodes is the sheriff, is a fictional town.

JG note: I hope all y'all enjoyed reading this update but must remind you I have about the same cyber smarts as a west texas horned toad or perhaps an armadillo. If you have technology how-to questions, don't ask me.

Whites, Birds, and White Birds

Wings upon the Bird

I used to travel a lot, departing my home in a Minnesota state forest. Prior to a business trip to France, I picked out wallpaper for my main bedroom, a delicate print of small birds, vines, and flowers, understated and tasteful. I left my house key with a couple of businesswomen who painted and papered.

Months later, I returned. Everyone admired their work, perfect trim, invisible seams. Next evening my girlfriend showed up bearing food and wine. We adjourned to the bedroom. She glanced at the walls and asked one question.

Why is the wallpaper upside down?

Two professional paperhangers, three employees, four visitors, and *me*— Not one of us noticed what one girlfriend saw: Every tiny pear tree partridge was not perched, but clung desperately to little upside down twigs.

The paperhanging ladies couldn’t believe it. Hell, I couldn’t believe it. They begged me not to pass out their business cards. That was my first and last attempt to paper a room. I sometimes wonder what succeeding residents thought.

Birds upon the Wing

Not long ago, a Vietnamese-American woman (AKA @CorndogCalamari) advanced a curious hypothesis:

All white people have one thing in common: Birds in their homes.

Bird décor, that is… statuettes, ceramics, metal sculptures, paintings, etc. Not the Relationship Bird Theory advanced by Cosmo’s Science Department last year.

Valentine (goffin cockatoo, 30+yo)

‘All white people’ is a pretty broad generalization, even on Tik Tok. The funny thing is… she pretty much nailed it. It’s particularly funny for folks convinced of their exceptionalism to abruptly realize they have a picture of a peace dove, an American eagle, or perhaps a pink flamingo on Emphysema Uncle Joe’s 1950s souvenir ashtray.

Thinking *I* had no decorative items, I felt pretty smug. Valentine agreed. Valentine, er, my white, very white goffin cockatoo… a big unmistakeable bird… Wait, hold on, he is decorative but not exactly décor.

Then I realized, the girlfriend who discovered the inverted birds-of-a-bedroom in long ago Minnesota had hung two painted macaws high on my Florida walls. Not something I’d pick out, but who knows where birds come home to roost.

Even Alcatraz prisoners found birds to cheer their dreadful cells. Thus our observant ceramics birdwatcher seems to have stumbled upon somewhat of a truism.

Will my fellow crime writers seize upon this phenomenon as a mystery clue? Curious creatures want to know.

Christmas Movie Night

 

Around this time last month, we did the same thing we've done every Christmas for years: Our whole family--my wife and I and our three children and their three spouses and seven kiddos--moved into our younger son David's home for two weeks. From December 20 to January 3, all fifteen of us were together, eating and playing board games and shooting pool and walking and jogging (the outside temperature was in the 70s most of the time) and visiting to our hearts' content. It was the one time in the year that I took a long break from writing.

We also watched a LOT of movies. Some of them were shown in David's home movie theater, whose screen is the entire west wall of the room, and some were watched in our own house, ten miles from his. Our house, since it's the one where he and our other two children were raised, is always the place, every year, where the whole family has our Christmas dinner, family photo, the opening of presents, etc. But whichever location we happen to be in, we spend some time re-watching movies that either (1) we already know and like or (2) are new to at least some of us. Our strictest rule about these little movie sessions is that those who choose to sit and watch the movie have to stay silent. The main audience is usually me and the seven grandkids, who are now all teenagers except the youngest two, and--believe it or not--those seven are the best at following the rules. It's the adults, who sometimes wander in and out and chat about about other things, who are noisy. One year the kiddos got fed up with this, and passed out little cards to the offenders that said MANAGEMENT REQUESTS THAT YOU LEAVE QUIETLY. (Although I think "requests" was spelled wrong.)

Our most recent two-week gathering included the screening of more than a dozen DVD movies, some of them watched by me and the kids and some by just the kids--I gave up a few years ago on superhero movies, after soldiering through the likes of Loki and Justice League, so I leave those to the younger generations. (I'm so old my favorite comic-book-hero movie is still the first Superman, with Christopher Reeve.) Everything else, though, I happily sit and watch with my grandchildren, with a reasonable number of snacks at my side.

If you're at all interested, and I don't know why you would be, here are some of the movies we've viewed together over the past several Christmases (for obvious reasons, a few of them were watched after the two youngest grandkids had gone to bed):

- Airplane! -- This was a first for our Christmas group, and the audience was appropriately pleased.

- Somewhere in Time -- A time-travel romance movie. Afterward I received many congratulations for suggesting this one. Even the boys and the younger kids liked it.

- Die Hard -- My wife rolls her eyes and usually avoids it entirely, but it's a favorite for me and the older kiddos. Who says it's not a Christmas movie? (So is Lethal Weapon, by the way.)

- Raising Arizona -- I bet I've seen this one two dozen times, and the kids love it.

- The Dish -- A truly fantastic, little-known gem about the Apollo 11 moon landing. Everybody likes it.

- The Gods Must Be Crazy, I and II -- Two new ones this year, for some of us. The group was so-so on the first but liked the second.

- Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier -- Mostly for the younger viewers in the bunch, who seem to appreciate it as much as I did at age 10. (My folks even bought me a coonskin cap.)

- Davy Crockett and the River Pirates -- Ditto. The two little ones always walk around singing the Mike Fink keelboat song for the next few days.

- Chitty Chitty Bang Bang -- A bit of a misfire. I recall that some of the audience liked the first half of the movie and not the last half. Overall, my budding movie critics were unimpressed.

- Lonesome Dove -- A huge favorite, with everyone.

- The Usual Suspects -- Mostly for the older kids. They said they especially liked the ending. 

- The three original Star Wars movies, the first three Indiana Joneses, the three Back to the Futures, the three Lord of the Rings movies, the three Men in Blacks, the three Knives Outs -- Strangely enough, for all six trilogies, the consensus is: The first one's the best, the third comes next, the second is the worst.

- Hatari -- John Wayne in Africa, capturing animals for the zoo. The older kids endured it, the younger ones were spellbound.

- Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief -- Another misfire. It got a unanimous thumbs-down, and its sequel fared even worse. 

- O Brother Where Art Thou? -- Big favorite. The fact that much of the movie was filmed here was a bonus.

- Other favorites: Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Jaws, 12 Angry Men, Ocean's Eleven, Signs, The Princess Bride, Crocodile Dundee, Jurassic Park, Jurassic World, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Man from Snowy River, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Clue, Aliens, Groundhog Day.

- Biggest favorite, by far: It's a Wonderful Life. We watch it every year, and even I get a little teary when the bell rings and Clarence gets his wings.

- Coming in second, even though it has nothing to do with Christmas, is Galaxy Quest, the all-time thought-it-would-be-terrible-but-turned-out-great movie. All of us, even the adults, love love love everything about this one.

NOTE: A few we haven't seen yet as a group, but they're on our future list: The Rocketeer, Top Gun, Romancing the Stone, Always, Shane, Rocky, The Right Stuff, the second and third Jumanji movies, High Noon, Gladiator, Spartacus, Apocalypto, Dances with Wolves, the five Mad Maxes, The Big Country, Twister, Speed, Holes, A Shot in the Dark, Liar Liar, City Slickers, Casablanca, Medicine Man, Secondhand Lions, the first three James Bonds, North by Northwest, Bullitt, The Magnificent Seven, Wait Until Dark, The Village, The Sting, To Kill a Mockingbird, Sleepless in Seattle, Father Goose, Rudy, Cat Ballou, The Black Stallion.

Now that I have the upcoming features planned and ready, all I need is a TV screen the size of our son's. Honey, are you listening? Hint, hint, hint. (My definition of acceptable size is when you have to turn your head from side to side in order to see the whole screen.)

Question: Do any of you ever play movie host to your kids/grandkids? Are any of you as obsessed with this foolishness as I am? (God help you, if you are.) IF you are, what movies or what kinds of movies do you mostly watch, as a group? Any suggestions for us, for future holidays? Are there any that you suggest we avoid? Do any of you not like family movie sessions? If you don't, I certainly understand. But in that case . . .

Management requests that you leave quietly.

Is Accuracy Overrated?

Filling in for me today is Mark Bergin, a retired police lieutenant, talented writer, and dear friend. Mark generously helped me with research for my short story, "Zebras." I am not the only writer who has benefited from his wisdom and experience. Mark has helped countless others with their stories. He truly embodies what it means to be a good literary citizen, supporting and encouraging us all. He is a remarkable human being, and I'm delighted he's joining us today.

— Stacy Woodson

Is Accuracy Overrated? 

by Mark Bergin

    I am the luckiest man in America. I have been saying that since 2013 after I survived two heart attacks that actually killed me, made me retire from the police force after twenty-eight years—a twist of fate that pushed me to write my first book, published in 2019. Now, I have a four-book contract. And one of the luckiest things about this new writer gig is, I get to talk with people about being a cop all the time.

      I am a big mouth, always have been. When I was a police officer, and a reporter before that, I was communicating with the public about safety and crime and baby seats and all kinds of stuff. Now, I am on panels at conferences, meet new friends, and give out dozens of business cards to writers who want to talk about police procedure—to get it right.

       And I wonder if that is important.

       After all, we are fiction writers. We lie and make up stuff for a living. There is no such person as my detective hero John Kelly (though he sounds a little like me) nor his foil, public defender girlfriend Rachel Cohen (though I married my public defender girlfriend Ruth, who hates the Rachel character).

    I strove hard to make my first book, APPREHENSION, accurate enough that a cop would read it and not find fault, that officers could give it to their families and say, “This is what it’s like out there.” It is about stress and suicide as much as police investigation and trial preparation. Maybe, too much. Maybe, I lost some readers’ interest by so densely packing police factoids— radio codes and case numbers and evidence procedures. I was a first-time author. Four years as a newspaper reporter means nothing in prose.

        But I was proud of my book’s accuracy until about two years after I wrote it, when I drove across a bridge from my Virginia home into Washington, DC. I remembered my description of a fictional pursuit and discovered I had misplaced the Jefferson Memorial, describing it at the end of the I-395 bridge, and not the real spot, a different bridge at Fourteenth Street. The Jefferson Memorial—it’s not little. And nobody ever caught it. Maybe because I had so few readers. 

          Despite that error, I remain committed to working with authors for the sake of their own authenticity. I talk with Sisters in Crime chapters and my local writers group (Royal Writers Secret Society, if you must know). A typical conversation might begin, “Would a police chief be involved in the interview of a murder suspect?” And my answer will start with, “Do you want him to be?” Because in the real world, no. Police chiefs approve budgets and hirings and firings and talk to politicians and kiss babies. They don’t do day-to-day police work. But you, clever writer you are, have a chief who is a main character in your book (instead of a distant loud sound bellowing from a high floor in the police station). So, let’s get him or her into that interrogation room. Is this in a small department where everyone does everything? Is there a blizzard, and she is the only brass available? Is the victim his sister-in-law (which presents its own conflict-of-interest-unlikeliness). But remember, IT’S FICTION. We’re making it up. Do it well enough, no one will question it. 

        Well, okay, maybe some will. 

    I just read a novel with an airplane mistake. (Note from Ed: Don’t make mistakes with airplanes, guns, or cars.) In the novel, a C-130 takes off to the sound of jet engines. No, it doesn’t, the C-130 is a turboprop, not a jet. Do I care?  I love this author, and I forgave him this one, but other times, a mistake like this can take me out of the story and weaken my faith in the storyteller. 

    We read to visit and inhabit new worlds or see ours from new angles with new facts. Mistakes make us doubt information in the story. I gave up on a spy novel recently in which agents playing husband and wife on a train are stopped at a border. “Wife” is taken away, “husband,” placidly, goes on to his destination and later, his headquarters where he reports, “Oh, they took her. I don’t know who.” NO! You’re a spy playing her husband. You fume and fight and make a scene because if you don’t, you’re suspect. Even I know what a real spy would do. So, the rest of this writer’s work became suspect. (Could we make this real? What if the train is in a violently repressive county where the agents are trained not to make waves. There. Done.)

        Would a detective investigate her sister’s murder? Do police encrypt their radios, or switch to cell phones for sensitive communications? Would they drive their own cars on the job? Do cops marry defense attorneys? I’ll answer anything, and very often, the answer becomes the start of a long, exciting back and forth on story and plot and character. I have made so many good friends this way, keeping contact after Left Coast Crime or Bouchercon or Creatures, Crime and Creativity. That’s the best. That’s why I am so lucky. (BTW, the answers to these questions are: no, yes, never, big-time yes.)

Unless that’s not what you want.

      There are some big, common mistakes in fictional police work: 

• Nobody does paperwork (unless you’re in a novel by Michael McGarrity, an ex-cop who gets it right). 

• Everybody loads their gun at the last minute, racking the slide to put a bullet in the chamber as they get out of the car or go through the door. NO. That gun was loaded the moment the cop woke up, maybe even loaded for weeks and locked in a personal safe at night. 

• Cops shoot somebody and go right back out. NO. NO. There is always an investigation during which the cop is on administrative leave, to give her a cooling off period and cover the department’s a—administration against claims of improper supervision. 

• Cops, well everybody, can tuck guns in their belt at the small of the back. NO. NO. NO. Try it. Come to my house. I’ll hand you an unloaded gun. You tuck it under your waistline. In five minutes, the gun is in your buttcrack. In ten, it has already slid down your pants and out your ankle. An easy fix? “Detective Callahan tucked the gun into the holster at the small of his back. There. Done. 

• A cop’s death makes your heroes mad, and they go out and solve things, and  then all is well. NO. NO. NO. NO. It’s so much more than that. It makes them furious, and they go out and rough people up. The death of an officer is a major blow to a department that lasts days and weeks and maybe forever. He or she was a friend and a coworker and a neighbor and a godparent and a boss, and their death reminds you, and your own family, how dangerous and capricious police work can be. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fun, too. Driving fast with lights and sirens, pointing guns at bad guys, making arrests, saving people. But it’s serious business, even if we don’t talk to the public or our kids about it. We should. 

      Writers research, ask questions, observe. Police departments let you go on ride-alongs and have public information officers. And you can always write to me (mbergin01@aol.com). Don’t let research be your enemy. Remember you are a fiction writer.  

      In APPREHENSION, a major scene keyed on the burial of an indigent jail prisoner. I needed that scene to go the way I envisioned—a small crane, a wet and muddy hole, gravediggers who left, cops who stood by. I didn’t know how the city or the sheriff’s office, who runs the jail, handled that, so I never asked. I made it up along reasonable lines of what I knew of city and law enforcement bureaucracies. Did I get it wrong? In six years, I still don’t know.

       Just write. Write it how you want. If your fans nitpick, do it better next time. At least now you know they’re reading you.

***

Mark Bergin spent four years as a newspaper reporter, winning the Virginia Press Association Award for news reporting, before joining the Alexandria, Virginia, Police Department. Twice named Police Officer of the Year for narcotics and robbery investigations, he served in most of the posts described in APPREHENSION, his debut novel. APPREHENSION is being reprinted by Level Best Books as the first in a four-book series called The John Kelly Cases. Book two in the series, SAINT MICHAEL’S DAY will be published this year and was a finalist for the Killer Nashville Claymore Award. His short stories appear in three Anthony Award-nominated anthologies: PARANOIA BLUES, LAND OF 10,000 THRILLS, and SCATTERED, SMOTHERED, COVERED AND CHUNKED. He lives in Alexandria, Virginia and Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

Ptolemy VIII Eurgetes: What Your Subjects Call You Behind Your Back Is a Lot More Important Than What They Call You to Your Face (CA. 182–116 B.C.)

The Alexandrians owe me one thing; they have seen their king walk!

—Scipio Aemilianus, Roman politician and general 

That’s right, another Ptolemy. But where the first of our Ptolemaic bastards (Ptolemy I Soter [“Savior”]) was ruthless and shrewd, and the second (Ptolemy Keraunos [“Thunderbolt”]) was brave, intemperate, and violent, our third was a gluttonous monster who celebrated one of his marriages by having his new stepson assassinated in the middle of the wedding feast, and later murdered his own son by this same woman (his sister!) in a brutal and sadistic fashion. 

When he took the throne of Egypt in 145 B.C., our Ptolemy took the reign name “Eurgetes” (Greek for “Benefactor”). In truth he was anything but. Quickly tiring of his lying, his murderous rages, and his rampant gluttony, his subjects began to refer to him as “Physcon” (“Potbelly”) because he was so fat. The quote that leads off this chapter references that physical characteristic as well as his laziness. Beholden to the Roman Republic for its support, Ptolemy VIII was forced to actually walk through the city of Alexandria (as opposed to being carted about in a litter) while playing tour guide to a visiting collection of Roman V.I.P.s, including Scipio Aemilianus, the author of the quote.

Ptolemy "happily" giving Scipio Aemilianus the aforementioned guided tour

A younger son of Ptolemy V who didn’t do the Ptolemaic dynasty any favors, this Ptolemy bounced around from Egypt to Cyprus to Cyrenaica (Libya) until his older brother (also a Ptolemy) died in 145 B.C. The dead Ptolemy’s young son was crowned shortly after his father’s death (taking the regnal name of Ptolemy VII) with his mother, Cleopatra II—no, not that Cleopatra—as co-ruler. In short order, our Ptolemy manipulated the common people into supporting him as king in place of his nephew, and managed to work out a compromise with his sister-also-his-brother’s-widow wherein he married her and the three of them became co-rulers of Egypt. 

Alexandria in the first century B.C.

Not only did Ptolemy then promptly have his nephew (and now stepson) killed at the aforementioned wedding feast, he seduced and married as his second wife the boy’s sister, who also happened to be his own niece, and his wife’s daughter (confused yet?), also named Cleopatra. (No, still not that Cleopatra.) This after knocking up the sister/wife/widow of his dead predecessor herself, siring a son named Ptolemy (again) Memphitis. 

When the people of Alexandria eventually rebelled and sent Ptolemy VIII, the younger Cleopatra, and their children packing to Cyprus, Cleopatra II (the sister/widow/first wife) set up their son Ptolemy Memphitis as co-ruler and herself (once more) as regent. Within a year, our Ptolemy (Ptolemy VIII, if you’re trying to keep track) had the boy, his own son, murdered. Pretty awful, right? Unspeakable? 

No, that’s what came next. Once he’d had the child (no older than twelve) killed, Ptolemy VIII had him dismembered and (according to such ancient sources as Diodorus Siculus and Justin, but treated by modern historians with a healthy dose of skepticism) sent to his mother as a birthday present! As if this wasn’t enough, Ptolemy went on to retake his throne and share power with his first wife (yes, the sister/wife/widow whose sons he’d killed) until he died of natural causes after a long life in 116 B.C. 

At least, as she had done with their elder brother Ptolemy VI, Cleopatra II managed to outlive Physcon, place another of her sons (Ptolemy IX) on the throne as co-ruler, and serve as regent to yet another underage princeling.

Unspeakable bastard. 

One Battle After Another

I haven’t seen every contender, but One Battle After Another is a strong candidate for best mainstream American picture of 2025. Released theatrically late in the year, it’s now available streaming on HBO Max, which is where I caught it.

Basic lineaments are these. Written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, from the novel Vineland by – get this – Thomas Pynchon. (You might think, reasonably, that Pynchon was impossible to adapt, but no; Anderson already took a shot at it with Inherent Vice, ten or so years ago, and there was apparently a stage production of V., in Berlin, running a little under four hours, and which seems to me a hugely quixotic undertaking.) The proof, however, is in the pudding, and One Battle After Another, quirky though it may be, is a very satisfying thriller. I feel it has a couple of blind spots, and I’ll get to that, but it sets up fast, and doesn’t slow down, and pays off big.

Leo DiCaprio, for those of you who still think he’s too cute for school – even after Once Upon a Time in Hollywood – shows off some terrific chops, very understated. Sean Penn, anything but understated, goes even more batshit than you could possibly imagine, as the heavy, and yet manages to convince you the guy isn’t a cartoon. Benicio Del Toro brings some lucid and calming energy to the scene, as a sensei. And the two female leads don’t play it safe, Teyana Taylor, as the radical mom, and Regina Hall, as her bred-to-revolution daughter – both heart-breakers, in their own way, and not always sympathetic.

The plot takes some sudden turns, and I won’t spoil it, but the story is pretty straightforward. A left-wing domestic resistance group, working to spring illegals from custody and move them through an Underground Railroad to safety, is compromised. They break up and go off the radar. ICE, in the person of the aforementioned Sean Penn, tracks them down, over the years, going for kill or capture. Leo, in a state of hallucinatory bliss, imagines he and his daughter are safe, but the devil comes to their door. Much grievous mayhem ensues.

You’ll have to take my word for it, it’s nowhere near as formulaic as this may make it sound. It hits a lot of the tropes you’d expect, but pulls some real surprises. It’s consistently entertaining, and still remains thoughtful.

Here’s the thing I’m not quite sure about.

There are, historically, left-wing groups that have turned to terror, just as there are similar right-wing organizations. The people in the movie might remind you of Edward Abbey’s Monkey-Wrench Gang, in that their intentions are good, but they’ve embraced violence, and like so many others, Left or Right, they think their cause excuses that. There is, of course, no organized AntiFa, not even an umbrella. We might remember, though, that in those damned and debated 1960’s and 1970’s, some of the more radical terror groups did in fact make common cause, the IRA Provos and the Japanese Red Army, the Weather Underground and the Panthers. Not a fever dream of J. Edgar Hoover’s, an actual alliance. Maybe it came to nothing, in the end, out of mistrust, but it was in the collective unconscious.

Their opposite number is the Great Right-Wing Conspiracy.

It features in a lot of over-heated paranoia movies, but is it a real thing? We know they’ve always had a fear of the anarchist Left, going back to the Haymarket, or Sacco and Vanzetti, but in those cases, the power of the state was mobilized. We’re talking about private money, working in the shadows. Sure, they meet behind closed doors, and wield enormous influence, but do they use secret Masonic recognition signals and practice barbaric rituals? Well, the Ku Klux Klan did, but I don’t think these guys have to. The big-money tech oligarchs are right out in the open. They’re not shy about swinging their weight around. That’s the only convention One Battle After Another uses that I’m not convinced of. I don’t think the right wing has to work in secret, or show each other their Capt. Midnight decoder rings. They recognize each other on sight, known predators stalking in the tall grass.

So, a reservation.

I guess you could say it was dramatic convenience. For sure, Thomas Pynchon has long trafficked in weird, all-powerful secret societies – and they seem, unhappily, all too authentic. I think, too, they’ve always been around: think the Jesuits. In other words, it’s an understandable temptation, and neo-Nazis and Aryan Nation supremacists are very definitely crawling around, not even in the underbrush. I wouldn’t argue that these people aren’t wicked, and capable of terrible cruelties, and they probably sit around their clubs with brandy and cigars, and gloat. They just don’t hide it.

2025 Year in Review: Writing and Other Things

In my previous SleuthSayers post, I discussed my year as an editor; in the following I discuss my year as a writer, and I discuss some of the other things with which I was involved.

WRITING

Productivity was up from last year, but still nowhere near my best year (75 stories in 2009) with 18 original stories completed, including a novella I co-authored with a fellow SleuthSayer. This is my most productive year since 2020, when I completed 26 stories.

The shortest story was 700 words and the longest (excluding the novella) was 6,700 words, for a total of 52,950. The average length (excluding the novella) was 3,100 words, and the novella was 19,000 words. One story was horror; the rest were crime fiction of one sub-genre or another.

ACCEPTED

Although I wrote only 18 new stories, I received—exclusive of the collections mentioned in the next paragraph—23 acceptances, all for original stories.

Also accepted were a collection of 22 of my stories and a collection of 6 stories I coauthored with Sandra Murphy that also includes one individually written story from each of us. I’ll provide more details closer to publication dates.

PUBLISHED

In 2025, 21 original stories, including a collaboration with Sandra Murphy, were published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Black Cat Weekly, Chop Shop, Dark Yonder, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Gag Me With a Spoon, Guilty Crime Stories Magazine, In Too Deep, Kelp Journal, KissMet Quarterly, Lunatic Fringe, Micromance, The Vigilante Crime Pulp Fiction Anthology, Tough, and Von Stray’s Crimestalker Casebook.

Also in 2025, two quasi-reprints were published: one appeared in an anthology that was rereleased by a new publisher, and a collaboration with James A. Hearn first published in AHMM was released as a podcast.

I also wrote three articles for the Mystery Writers of America’s The Third Degree.

Five publications/publishers are represented multiple times: Black Cat Weekly with four stories, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine with two stories, KissMet Quarterly with two stories, Micromance with two stories, and White City Press with stories in two anthologies.

REJECTED

I received nine rejections, which is fewer rejections than acceptances, and any year in which acceptances outnumber rejections is a good year.

RECOGNIZED

While two anthologies I co-edited won or were short-listed for awards, and while several stories I edited won or were short-listed for awards or included in best-of-year anthologies, my own writing flew under the radar in 2025.

FORTHCOMING

Including those accepted in 2025 and in previous years, I have stories forthcoming in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Black Cat Mystery Magazine, Black Cat Weekly, Chop Shop, Cold Caller, Cryin’ Shame, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Get Your Kicks, Kings River Life, KissMet Quarterly, Mickey Finn, Micromance, Sex & Synthesizers, Skinning the Poke, The Perp Wore Pumpkin, Time After Time, and Wish Upon a Crime.

LOOKING AHEAD

So many publishers (book, periodical, and web-based) closed in 2025, are struggling with publication schedules, or have announced their impending end that it is impossible to predict what the market for short mystery fiction will look like this year. Rather than fret about it, I choose to keep writing and keep my eyes open for whatever new opportunities present themselves. That might mean—as it was this year with the discovery of new romance publications—working in other genres.

SHORTCON

After the successful launch of ShortCon, the Premier Conference for Writers of Short Crime Fiction, in 2024, we presented the second ShortCon in 2025. The third ShortCon will be presented Saturday, June 6, 2026, in Alexandria, Virginia, and we plan to continue this as an annual event. (Learn more at https://www.eastcoastcrime.com/#/.)

MYSTERY IN THE MIDLANDS

As I did in 2024, I helped Paula Benson organize the 2025 Mystery in the Midlands, an online conference that emphasized writing and publishing short crime fiction. Paula has invited me to join her again in organizing the 2026 Mystery in the Midlands, again focusing on short crime fiction.

OTHER EVENTS

I participated—as a panelist, moderator, or presenter—in several live and online conferences, conventions, and presentations in 2025 and am already scheduled to attend or present at several events (live or online) in 2026.

MYSTERY WRITERS OF AMERICA

I’m halfway through my second two-year term as an at-large board member of the Mystery Writers of America. I will rotate off the board in January 2027.

NEWBERRY CRIME WRITING WORKSHOP

The most exciting event on the horizon is the inaugural Newberry Crime Writing Workshop, an “intensive four-week writers’ workshop for developing crime and mystery authors, taught by major figures in the field,” which takes place July 6–31, 2026, on the campus of Newberry College in Newberry, South Carolina.

Teaching one week each are Joe R. Lansdale, Cheryl Head, Warren S. Moore, and me. Writers-in-residence will live nearby and share meals with the students, providing students with an immersive experience.

Mornings are devoted to critiquing manuscripts in a workshop setting. Afternoons, evenings, and weekends are devoted to individual writing, conferences with the current writer-in-residence, social activities, and the completion of class assignments.

The registration fee includes housing and all meals throughout the four-week workshop. There is at least one small scholarship available, and we’re working on adding more, so don’t let the $4,000 tuition stop you from applying.

Add your name to the mailing list here to be notified when applications are open.

AND THAT’S ALL FOLKS

This past year was quite a wild ride, and 2026 looks to be more of the same. I can’t predict the future, so the best I can do is buckle up and prepare for whatever comes.

I hope y’all were productive last year and that this year brings you even greater success.

* * *

To kickstart the new year, my story “Glass Beach” appears in the January/February 2026 issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.

Wham bam, thank you ma’am.

            The other day I spell checked the word “pfft”.  It passed with flying colors.  This made me very happy.  As with exclamation points, semi-colons and references to intimate body parts, onomatopoeia can be very effective, if used sparingly.  Tom Wolfe never thought to resist any onomatopoeic impulse, but he’s the only author I know who got away with it.  (Batman comics notwithstanding.)

            It’s not only effective, it’s loads of fun.  It’s like splashing around in the mud.  Whacking a barn with a baseball bat.  Popping bubble gum.  Swooshing down the side of a mountain on a pair of skis.

            A lot of words don’t precisely mimic their subject, but sound pretty close to what they describe.  Bullet.  Grotesque.  Punch.  Slime.  Squeeze.  Jet.  Fart.  Kiss.  Others sound like they’re off by about 180 degrees.  My favorite is Pulchritude.  How did sublime beauty take up residence on the same block as Poultice or Putrid?  How could a lovely word like Sanguine, meaning optimistic, have such bloody roots?   Other words sound worse than they are.  Phlegmatic.  Dyspeptic.  Zaftig also doesn’t sound all that great, though Yiddish speakers likely meant it to reassure the rotund.  On the other hand, I would have thought Jejune was a rather pleasant state of affairs if I hadn’t looked it up.  It’s why I’m sticking with Vapid, for its unmistakably vaporous disposition. 

        Yiddish may seem the invention of a clever stand up, but English can often feel like a practical joke.  If there’s a specific thing you should be doing that’s good for you, it’s Prescribed.  If you shouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole, the thing gets Proscribed.  If you’re bathed in admiration, you’re experiencing Approbation.  If the pitch forks are out for you, it’s Opprobrium.  It’s good to know if you’re researching something’s Etymological roots, and not its Entomological, unless you want bugs floating around in your word soup.  The same crew can raze a barn or raise it, though you need to know their intentions before deciding on the spelling.  Since we have Flammable, it seems profligate to have Inflammable as well, since it means the same thing, and sounds like you mean the opposite. 

Worse is Cleave.  It means to split apart, but also to tightly adhere.  Contranyms are not only confusing, they’re simply unfair. 

A Gimlet eye is reputed to be sharp and penetrating, though I once knew a chap who had an affectionate relationship with the vodka variety, and I’d say glazed was a more apt description. 

 Pleasing notions produce soothing words to the ear.  One can easily imagine people of various origins serenely flowing together, as tributaries join a river, when they Assimilate.  Words with well-placed esses are often like this.  I never had to look up Verisimilitude.  And no other word than Sibilance could accurately express the lispy phenomenon (though disliked by recording engineers).  Only a word with a soft touch could adequately conjure a Caress, usually an act requiring some Finesse. 

            On the other hand, a few hard consonants were smartly recruited to identify a Block.  (No one stubbed their toe on a word overflowing with vowels, unless they happen to be French.)  There are probably a hundred slang terms for penis, but nothing is so instructional, or adaptable to describing a thoughtless, sadistic jerk, as a Prick.  Here, the concluding consonant is essential to the effect.  If you find yourself in a Funk, you can blame the same consonant, appropriately placed, for ruining the word Fun.   When others try to foist off obvious falsehoods as truth, it’s no wonder we call it Bunk, proving consonants’ suitability for delivering ridicule.

Some words are so perfectly contrived, that looking for synonyms feels ungrateful.  Blasphemy is custom crafted to be spoken by a crusading inquisitioner, a word you can bellow from the pulpit or whisper in dim candlelight.  The first person to pull a sticky mass off the bottom of their schoolhouse desk surely called it a Wad.  In that same schoolhouse, the anonymous word coiner likely came up with Zit, a far more evocative identification than any of its peers.

  This all may seem the preoccupation of a Logophile, and I’ll gladly cop to it, though there’s a drawback to this.  Logo also means a symbol or design used to express the brand identity of a product or service.  I’m fine with this as an ordinary practice, but when marketers think it’s wise to wallpaper the entire world with their self-serving promotion, it’s just obnoxious. 

How about, logophile declares himself an antilogoist?