Xena Redux

 

So, now that I’m thoroughly hooked on Candice Renoir, the powers that be have made the show unavailable for streaming as of the Season 7 debut, which leaves us hung out to dry, at least in the English-speaking television world.  (The series runs another four seasons, and three dozen episodes, before cancellation late last year.)

Same song, different day.  How do you fill the gap when you’re invested, emotionally, in these relationships and outcomes, and all of a sudden you’re Jonesing?  You’d think I might be used to it, by now. 

I can recommend Brokenwood, but not unreservedly.  It’s got the Ozzie-slash-Kiwi thing down, which helps when you’re lonely for the Blake mysteries, but it’s also vaguely reminiscent of Death in Paradise, meaning it can favor the silly.  It reminds you that it’s all a fiction – and not simply made up, but a handshake between the creatives and the audience, when too much of a knowing wink into the camera will spoil the illusion.  I also find it aggravating that while the medical examiner, Gina, is attracted to the lead, Mike, her sexual appetites are played for laughs, and a sign of desperation.  I could do with a little less Our Miss Brooks.  In other words, Brokenwood seems stuck in the wrong era, with some lazy conventions.

Which brings us to My Life Is Murder.  Also an Ozzie show, but after the first season, set in Melbourne, it decamps to Auckland, showing its New Zealand roots.  Because, my dears, the star and exec producer of the show is none other than Lucy Lawless.  Yes, she’s done Battlestar Galactica, and she’s done Spartacus, but those are ensemble casts, and I want to see her in a lead, kicking ass and taking names.  (Yes, since of course you’re wondering, Renee O’Connor does a guest shot in Season 2.) 

Some of us were resistant to the charms of Xena – certainly they mangled Greek mythology – but some of us were equally impervious to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  What fools these mortals be.  My Life Is Murder, I hasten to say, isn’t supernatural in the slightest.  It’s a straight-up detective show.  The scripts are inventive, and the resolutions convincing.  She, the heroine, is a former cop herself, and a cop’s widow.  She gets files, often cold cases, from a pal who’s still active-duty.  We know that in real life, no police agency in the world would countenance such a thing; any good defense attorney would take you off at the knees.  We can allow for dramatic license.  It works, in context.  Some of the other tropes are a bit labored, some of the forensic shortcuts challenge our suspension of disbelief, but whaddya want?  We’re trying to wrap this up in 45 minutes. 

It depends, naturally, on the actor and the character she plays.  Lucy Lawless carries the show, just as Cecile Bois carries Candice Renoir.  There’s more than a passing resemblance in the premise of the two series.  Lucy Lawless is 55, Cecile Bois is 51.  They’re playing strong women who’ve been buffeted by Fate – a cliché, but no less workable for that.  They’re attractive, and sexy, and don’t suffer fools (although you wish Candice would suffer fewer of them).  I think this is a welcome development.  There was Unforgotten, with Nicola Walker, now headlining Annika.  We’ve got Happy Valley, and Vera. 

Give it a shot.  I think it has a lot of charm, and humor.  It tends to skate on the surface, and not go deep into dark waters, but sometimes that does the trick. 

A Constitutional Road Trip

Summertime.

Our thoughts often turn to vacation travel. Today, I'd like to use the blog space to propose an itinerary for those traveling to Southern California. Skip the lines at Disneyland, the Getty, the Santa Monica Pier, or the San Diego Zoo. Instead, take a trip to make Atlas Obscura proud. What follows is a very brief itinerary for Constitutional law junkies and perhaps writers who want to get the law right. 

A quick refresher. The Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution holds in part:

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated...

A number of Fourth Amendment hotspots lie in Southern California. Today's trip focuses on telephones. 

1. 8210 Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles

The Chateau Marmont stands close by this address. The hotel offers a history of
misbehavior worthy of a blog or book. But for Con. Law fans, walk across the street. These days, I think you'll be looking at a taco shop (at least according to Google Street View). Close your eyes. Imagine the year is 1967, and you're looking at three telephone booths right here. 

Charles Katz was a career gambler and, in the 1960s,  possibly the best handicapper of college basketball games in the country. He had an apartment at 8400 Sunset and would walk down to the pay phones to call bookmakers on the East Coast with his game recommendations. 

Unbeknownst to Katz, the FBI had begun an investigation into his gambling activities. Law enforcement, with the consent of the phone company, disabled one of the phone booths. They attached a listening device between the other two. Regardless of which booth Katz chose, the calls could now be monitored. Phone booths, for those who don't remember, were clear glass boxes.  Katz entered and closed the door. The police recorded his conversations. The surveillance was conducted through the exterior wall and without a warrant. Katz was convicted and fined. 

Following conviction, Katz appealed and the case ultimately went to the US Supreme Court. In overturning his conviction, the court established a new standard for identifying where constitutional protections exist. Although phones booths are quaint history, the test, by and large, remains. The court looked at how the phone booth might be viewed by Katz and, objectively, by the public. Although visible, Katz took reasonable steps to protect his privacy.  The Fourth Amendment, the court ruled, exists to protect people rather than places. Katz had a reasonable expectation of privacy that society was prepared to recognize. He went inside the booth, closed the door, and paid for a private phone call. He was entitiled to believe that, although he might be seen, he had a right not to be heard. 

The protections of the Fourth Amendment covered not just personal effects but also the recording of Katz's conversation. This spot of Los Angeles stretched the constitutional protections surrounding search and seizure. 

Katz v. United States, 389 US 347 (1967)

According to his attorney, when informed of the historic decision, an outcome that changed constitutional analysis, Katz's first question was whether he could now sue the phone company. Want to bet how that turned out?

Take the I-5 south to San Diego

2. The intersection of Euclid and Imperial

A busy crossroads in a working-class neighborhood that's sandwiched between two freeways. The area has a history of gang activity. The intersection has been known as "The Four Corners of Death." When you go, don't stay long. 

If you look around, you'll see a gas station, St. Rita Catholic Church, and a sign for San Diego Legal Aid. Had you been here in the early morning hours of August 22nd, 2009, however, you'd likely have witnessed David Riley being pulled over for an expired license plate. He was subsequently arrested for traffic violations. His car's contents were inventoried before the vehicle was towed. The police located guns. Riley's troubles mounted. The police next seized the cell phone in his pocket. They went through its contents and found several pieces of evidence linking Riley to the "Bloods," a criminal street gang. (Remember the gang activity I mentioned above.) In particular, photos on the phone included a picture of Riley standing in front of a car that had been involved in a drive-by shooting a few weeks earlier. The photos and phone data added to the prosecutor's pile of evidence in the trial for that shooting. The other evidence included DNA and ballistics. 

At trial, Riley's attorney sought to suppress the phone evidence. Riley claimed that the search of his cell phone violated the Fourth Amendment. Prior to Riley's case, the law had been ambiguous about whether police could, without a warrant, search the contents of a cell phone. His case made it clear that they could not. 

Even though Riley carried the phone in his jeans, the court recognized that raking through a smartphone was different than merely checking the defendant's pockets. The intrusion into a person's privacy proved far broader with a cell phone search. The phone, as we all know, is the storage vessel for most people's entire lives. The court did not prohit the police from looking at them. They did, however, require that law enforcement obtain a warrant before checking. 

Look at the intersection again. A landmark case that shaped Con. Law occurred at this humble street crossing. 

Riley, incidentally, won the case but lost the war. The Supreme Court case did not secure his release from prison. On remand, California courts found that the other evidence overwhelmingly sustained his conviction. 

Riley v. California, 573 US 373 (2014)

Both these addresses changed the legal landscape. Both affected police procedure, and both, therefore, influenced the details of crime fiction. Drive by both. Then stop, take out phone, snap a pic or make a call. 

Until next time. 

The Importance of Stupidity

Mystery fans tend to celebrate the well-stocked minds, brilliant logic and analytical genius of the great detectives, but let's be fair. The genre itself relies to a great extent on stupidity. I am not talking now of the many human follies that supply mystery plots: the protagonist home alone who investigates that sound in the basement, the detective who refuses to wait for backup, the careless bon vivant who parties with dubious companions, or the career criminal set for one last big score. 

No, I am thinking of that great asset for private detectives and clever consultants: a properly stupid police presence. Note the restrictive, 'properly'. Getting a fictional lawman who is dense enough to need help but solid enough to be useful is a delicate literary trick.

 Consider how convenient it is for Sherlock Holmes that his London is served by Inspector Lestrade. Or how nice for Poirot that Inspector Japp is so often puzzled by the case at hand. I needn't even mention those dull chaps, alternately confused and dazzled  by Miss Marple, who lack the advantages of residence in that notorious burg, St. Mary Mead.

I was thinking of such useful officials while watching the entertaining Belgian series, Professor T, now on PBS Passport. It is subtitled, fortunately, rather than dubbed, but there has also been an English language remake with the same name.

In either version, Professor Teerlinck is a great mind in the Sherlock Holmes vein, with even more quirks than the sage of Baker street, including a serious germ phobia. He's a professor of criminology in Antwerp, eminent enough to get away with slovenly grading and candor to the point of rudeness. On the plus side, for someone with minimal social graces and skills, he has a lot of insight into human motivation, plus intellectual courage and a total indifference to the high and mighty. 

Amidst several off-putting habits, Professor T also has a rather endearing fantasy life, frightening and/ or  amusing visions that provide non-verbal cogitation. Professor T's an interesting creation, and Koen De Bouw does a good job of making him as sympathetic as possible.

All Professor T needs to show his brilliance is a compliant police force, and the series delivers up not one, not two, but three detectives needing help, plus their commanding officer. All good, all interesting, all well-performed, but not, I think, in the Japp or Lestrade category. And why not? In a word, they seem insufficiently stupid. 

According to his back story, Paul Rabet, the lead detective, was very successful prior to a personal tragedy – a dramatically convenient death, the skeptical viewer thinks, just before Professor T showed up. No wonder Paul dislikes the moonlighting academic.

And sparky Inspector Donckers, formerly Professor T's outstanding student, surely has the brains to get a handle on a tricky case. Even her laid back colleague, Daan de Winter, not as bright but an excellent interviewer, is no slouch. Their chief, Christina Flamant, once Professor T's lover, is a thorough, smart, and sensible leader. 

Do these people really need a Professor T? Of course, for the purposes of the series, they do, and the writers have added personal problems and a romantic subtext in an effort to cloud their minds and distract them from the clues which only the professor will notice. The results are entertaining, but until near the end of the generously long first season both the police team and the professor seem locked in their roles, with the inspectors having to run to the university, case files in hand, to enlist the great mind.

Then in a surprise, a two part episode not only concentrates on the police team but puts the professor, himself, in jeopardy. A more independent team, a more human professor? Seasons two and three will tell, but they might make an interesting series even better.

Synopsis and Poisons

No conversation about submissions to literary agents is complete without a discussion about writing a synopsis. There are many professional and calm articles about this topic but this article is neither for one very important reason: I’m married and have children.

The many excellent articles explain how to write a synopsis in simple terms. Summarize the novel’s plot (status quo, inciting incident, rising action, crisis and resolution) main subplots, characters and none of this should read like a dry summary. It should include characters’ emotions and reactions to what’s happening. All of this should be done in 500 - 800 words (preferably 500).

Most of these articles are written in a way that encourages writers to tackle this task with confidence. They explain how this is a doable task and would even help identify any plot holes. I appreciated all this help and encouragement.

So, armed with the criteria, I started writing a synopsis. I ended up with a synopsis of a couple thousand words that barely touched the surface of my over 80K word book. So, I needed to cut the word count and make it more thorough at the same time.

No problem, I thought. I can do this. So, working hard I got rid of about 1,000 words and still had too many words and now also had a very dry synopsis.

I went from being delighted with all the advice, to resenting the encouragement about a task that’s clearly impossible. Increasingly, my mood became foul and my language became fouler. This is where my marital status and family enters the story.

My husband, trying to be helpful, told me that I’m a good writer, he’s sure I can do this and would do a great job. He sounded like the encouraging articles. There are moments in a marriage where your partner says all the wrong things. This was that moment. Sometimes I can shrug it off, mostly because the children are very fond of my husband and would miss him if anything happened to him. However, determined to fulfil his role as my support, my husband went on. And on. When he stopped to catch his breath, before he launched into more encouraging statements, I asked him if he could please help. He was delighted to be asked. I requested that he find my book of poisons - I hadn’t seen it in years - while I get a shovel. He said he’d look later because he needed to take the dogs for a walk first.

I went back to work with no more encouraging interruptions.

The upshot is that my synopsis is now down to 500 words. It needs work but it’s mostly there. Better than that, writing it did help me identify a plot hole and helped me be much more focused on plot when editing my manuscript for the trillionth time. I do think writing a synopsis is actually useful.

At this point, you probably don’t care about the synopsis at all and are asking different questions. Did my husband ever locate the book of poisons? Is that really gardening I’m doing in the backyard? When was my husband last seen? How are the children?

I actually did buy a book for writers on poisons many years ago. I cheerfully showed it to my husband who was uncharacteristically quiet. Oddly, I must have misplaced it because I have not seen it since. I didn’t even get to read it. My husband has looked for it diligently and cannot find it.

My husband is walking the dogs right now. All the neighbours can see him. The children are fine. My garden remains woefully untended but I have some herbs, thanks for asking.

I highly recommend writing a synopsis. Don’t be fooled by the encouraging articles. I doubt I’m the only one who was frustrated with the task and baffled why I was the only one incapable of doing it. It’s not an easy task. It’s very hard. It’s also worth it if you get someone wise to hide the book of poisons before you begin. Think about the children.

Weapons and What Comes Around

Crime fiction has a weapon. Figuratively, I mean, not pistols, wrenches, or candlesticks. Not mystery, not suspense. I’m talking about something essential about us, a heart and soul thing. Crime fiction asks a particular question set about humanity. What crimes do we let ourselves commit, and how do we justify it? From there, consequences. 

Yes, all storytelling is about characters and the choices they make, or let’s hope. Abstract examinations of being are best left as philosophy. In fiction, character choices are intensely personal—and personalized. I keep reading crime stuff for these particular questions. How far will someone go, whether to commit or solve a crime? Where and why do they draw their line? Are the laws broken truly just? Is the choice self-deceived? What success or tragedy eventually arrives, as it must? Eventually is the magic.

Flashback to 2017, and I was on a plane to Quebec. Because it was there. Seriously. I hadn’t ever gone, and the bucket list item stared me down. I went. Quebec was there. More than there. Montreal was terrific, a true world city, but it wasn’t always the city I’d imagined. For each touch of flair or cool neighborhood, there were blocks and blocks of the usual stores, generic restaurants, and that same old North American hustle.

Quebec City—highly recommended—carried a vibe closer to the Quebec of my imaginings. The backstreets and old fortress gates have the feel of Old Europe. A lingering touch of wilderness rides the air, an après moi warning in that vastness north. If this was a French Canadian bastion, though, it sure drew an international crowd. Gaggles of cruise ship tours clogged the streets and beer gardens.

I try to journal when traveling. Something about being free of the home routine opens the mindset. And, importantly, on the road I have actual discretionary time. On that 2017 trip, I looked out my Quebec City hotel window and mulled over what to write. I remember the moment clearly because cannons along the escarpment were aimed back my way. The old guns are for show, but still, pressure is pressure.

I started wondering about Quebec and my expectations gap. My mind changed that thought toward a comic premise. What if someone followed this same track but for different reasons? And with way more need and expectation pumping up those illusions? I’d come to discover, but what if someone was escaping here? What were they running from, and why Quebec of all places? Americans on the lam have safer refuges.

Fast forward through several days of drafting under a possible cannon barrage. The story wasn’t working. That first pass was part literary abstract, part buddy comedy. I couldn't finagle the perspective to a cogent third-person distance. When this happens, and it does, I’ve been known to give up and run with first person. My stuff usually rewards following a character and their voice. Not an option here. This guy still wasn’t sharing, even as I fleshed out the shape of him. Hell, I gave him my travel itinerary. But no, he was just running around in quiet despair. When he did talk, it was to justify himself. He wasn't such a bad guy, right? 

Fine. It was time for consequences. I became his judge and jury and heaped consequences on his actions, especially his silences. If he want to run, it would exhaust him. If he wanted to keep mum, he would feel alone and isolated. His crime details started coming out: theft, suspicion, fleeing expected justice. Those had consequences, too. Action, consequence, reaction, consequence. Whatever I piled on him, he wouldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t stop looking for respite in Quebec. There was some idyllic point in that deep north forest only he would recognize. 

He did, eventually. Months and multiple rewrites later, he found his somewhere beside a northern lake already freezing over. He opened up to me, or more precisely, he broke down. His big why for running was a far cry from the crime comedy I’d planned. He'd been chasing the greatest consequence—an ultimate judgment on what he'd done with his life.

Back to now and crime fiction’s weapon. My slapdash journal exercise under cannon threat became “Spirits Along the One North Road,” in the current July/August 2023 edition of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. And this near-miracle happened because what I love most as a reader bailed me out as a writer. 

Consequences. It’s a weapon better than any candlestick.

Not In My Backyard?

 Recently, I saw a post on Facebook suggesting (I hope humorously) one bury murder victims upright because satellites can look for people-sized six-foot holes. Of course, I had to check it out. Turns out, the tongue-in-cheek post had a kernel of truth. Using animals and donated cadavers, scientists in various countries took ground readings. A fresh body will cause the ground to bulge out. A decayed body will cause a depression as the organic material dissolves.

Of course, disposing of a dead body poses all sorts of issues. Living near the Ohio River, I hear at least two stories a year about either bodies disappearing in America's third longest river or turning up in or near it. A few years ago, a police officer fell off the Clay-Wade Bailey Bridge downtown and disappeared. It took several weeks to find his body. However, in the process, police departments in Ohio and Kentucky solved quite a few cold cases. They found bodies, just not the officer's body until about two months later. On the other hand, two children, both killed by their mothers' boyfriends, remain missing after the killers each admitted dumping them in the Ohio River. Different incidents within a month of each other, same result. Both killers are behind bars now.

But it makes me wonder what people have buried in their backyards. I often wondered if I could successfully bury gold in my own backyard. Not gold purchased through some weird website advertised by a dork who makes Vanilla Ice* look gangsta. I mean getting a hold of gold coins, gold jewelry, etc. and stowing it beneath my lawn. Sink a concrete vault and slip out at night to put my ill-gotten booty back there. There are a number of problems with this, not the least of which is my neighbors can all see me digging a big hole back there. Shades of Tom Waits's "What's He Building in There?" And besides, gold's not all it's cracked to be as an investment. One ill-timed boom, and good luck pawning Grandma's wedding ring. (I got more for my silver wedding ring from a previous marriage than my wife got for a gold ring her father gave her.)

But the 1950s were boom years for bomb shelters. Many remain intact, assuming developers haven't planted McMansions over them. Most are used for storage anymore. Some have become man caves and she sheds. (Is that still a thing?) A few prepper types keep their supplies in them. Most were left abandoned. An old bomb shelter, particularly connected to a house by a tunnel, can hide all sorts of ill-gotten booty (or bodies.) Going back to my idea of sinking a vault in the backyard, there are some things to consider. For instance, my house sits on a man-made rise to lift it above potential flash floods. Additionally, my neighbors have an in-ground pool. Every spring and fall, my backyard is... Moist. The stagnant water potential is enormous.

But where do you hide something you don't want others to find? If you own property that stands vacant, you're further ahead of the game than most. My aunt and uncle divided their old dairy farm into lots for their sons. Two built houses. The other, who prefers urban life, built a private campground. If they so chose, something valuable or someone inconvenient could spend years there never to be found. (Given one of the family is related to the sheriff in that county, this is probably not a wise idea. But I'm a writer. I make things up using what I know or find out.)

Closer to home, I used to know a former IRS agent who sank his earnings into property. Now, if I were to buy houses or buildings, I'd likely rent them out as quickly as possible. My friend did not. My friend was the most organized hoarder you'll ever meet. He would go through Big Lots and buy whatever struck him and just stash it. When he ran out of room at his house, he started using one of his vacant properties. Then another. He had at least two houses full of stuff he bought at Big Lots or flea markets or yard sales. Why did he buy all that stuff? Even he can't explain it. But I'll bet his hoarding stash was neater than your house or mine. (And my wife is a clean freak.)

Then there's the wilderness. Only in the eastern parts of these United States, where I live, there's not a lot of wilderness left. The closest to me is the Wayne National Forest, which covers a large swath of Southeast Ohio. But the region is crawling with hikers year-round. Your buried treasure or that business partner who "left town" before he could ruin you is just a stumbling tourist away from being found. Out west is better, where you can drive nearly a hundred miles between gas stations. I drove through Nevada a few years back and realized I could drive right off the road into the desert and leave something (or someone) out there never to be found. If it's something I want back, this is probably a bad idea, since I'd have to remember where I left it. The Rockies and, back east, Appalachians might be a better bet. Mountains have certain features that change little and are seldom visited. Probably better for that haul from your bank heist than your rich relative who put you in the will. 

*Vanilla Ice flips houses these days. Which means he's better with money than he is rapping. Also smarter than the dork in the gold commercial.

Canada's Finest: An Interview with Vancouver Crime Writer Extraordinaire Sam Wiebe

Long-time friend and much-lauded crime writer Sam Wiebe has a new book out, so I thought I'd take some time to ask him a few questions and put what we came up with out there. I HIGHLY recommend his work.

First, a bit about Sam:

Sam Wiebe is the award-winning author of the Wakeland novels, one of the most authentic and acclaimed detective series in Canada, including Invisible Dead (“the definitive Vancouver crime novel”), Cut You Down (“successfully brings Raymond Chandler into the 21st century”), Hell and Gone ("the best crime writer in Canada") and Sunset and Jericho ("Terminal City’s grittiest, most intelligent, most sensitively observed contemporary detective series").

Now on to the interview!

*     *     *     *     *

Let's start with what makes a Sam Wiebe work of fiction a Sam Wiebe work of fiction. And that goes to influences. Who/what are yours, and what made you want to be a professional writer?

John D MacDonald and Ross Macdonald, Sue Grafton and Walter Mosley, Larry McMurtry, Henry Chang, Ian Rankin, Hillary Mantel, William McIlvanney, Josephine Tey...there are too many.

What are you reading right now?

Barbara Tuchman's Guns of August, and about to start The Killing Hills by Chris Offutt. 

Guns of August is a classic, won the Pulitzer Prize, and rightly so. If you get a chance, her other Pulitzer winner, Stillwell and the American Experience in China, is well worth your time, as is A Distant Mirror: the Calamitous 14th Century, for which she won the National Book Award.

(Sorry! Historian geeking out about one of his heroes.)

--I'll definitely be reading more of her work. My favorite historians are Robert Caro and Doris Kearns Goodwin. I also like Rick Perlstein.

Not familiar with Chris Offutt. What about his work recommends him to you?

Andrew Hood from the Book Shelf in Guelph, Ontario recommended Offutt's Mick Hardin series. The first book, The Killing Hills, really impressed me. Hard-hitting, concise, with a compelling character. 

One of the things many of your readers (myself included) point to when talking about your work is the distinctiveness of your characters. Do you have a process for fleshing them out and making them "authentic"?

I try to give the characters interesting problems and allow them a full range of responses. Wakeland especially.

Because conflict reveals character?

True in fiction and life, I think. 

Speaking of Wakeland, Sunset and Jericho is the fourth installment in the series which bears his name. You have stand alone novels to your credit in addition to this award-winning series. Could you speak to the benefits/challenges of writing a series as opposed to those of writing a standalone novel?

It's weird. There's a certain amount of interest in a first book of a series because it's new...and then there's a drop, where you're not  new and not yet established. But with book four, Wakeland has been around for a while, and has developed a following. The books are getting better, I think. People who started with Sunset and Jericho can go back and read the earlier Wakeland books. Harbour just reissued Invisible Dead and Cut You Down with new covers). More of an investment, but a richer experience, in a way.

The great film director John Ford was particularly effective at making the settings of his films act as a sort of "additional character." Authors too numerous to mention have also used their settings in such a manner. The city of Vancouver is pretty central to your Wakeland series. Is that by design?

By design and by necessity. Vancouver is the city I know best. I admire what Ian Rankin does with Edinburgh, showing not just the dark side beneath the tourist-friendly surface, but the ways they feed each other. So much of a detective story is the joy of navigating different social strata. 

In your opinion and experience, how is Vancouver like other big cities, and in what ways is it its own thing?

Most cities are multicultural and have complex histories. Vancouver's is especially interesting. It has one of the oldest Chinatowns in North America. It's also the home of the first supervised injection site. Finally, a lot of Hollywood films are shot here because it doubles well for other cities--its uniqueness makes it similar to other places, and its similarity makes it unique.

Wow? Well said! And that is a great note to wrap up on. Thanks Sam, for taking the time to sit down and discuss your work. 

And for the rest of you, a belated Happy 4th, and see you in two weeks!

Old Memorials, New Choices

 

They come in two kinds.

The official ones look like typical road signs but instead of telling you when you can park they say something like IN MEMORY OF SO-AND-SO.  PLEASE DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE.

We used to make a trip every winter on a rural road where there were four or five of those official memorials.  Seems like there was an alcohol problem there.

The private ones are more impressive.  There's usually a poster with a photo of the loved one.  There may be balloons, teddy bears, pinwheels, religious paraphernalia.  The message is the same.

Downtown here a private display sat for years, leaning against the fence of a business's parking lot.  It was continuously refreshed.  I used to wonder how the owner of the store felt about this memento mori.

One day it occurred to me: That could be a source of conflict and conflict is the main ingredient in fiction. So could I write a story about it?

Let's raise the stakes: Say that the business is a liquor store.  What would the owner think about this warning against his product?

It seemed like a pretty solid premise but I couldn't make any progress.  My main character refused to solidify.  All I knew was that he was a grumpy small businessman.  He just wouldn't develop. 

So I tried a trick.  I have written here before about the improv comedy game called New Choice.  The idea is that two actors make up a scene and at any point the third player call yell "New Choice!" and whoever spoke last has to come up with something different to say. 

In that earlier column I had suggested this as a solution for dealing with cliches in your plot.  My problem this time wasn't a cliche but I figured it was worth a shot.  So what could I change?

How about if I made the store owner a woman?

And boom, what a difference that made.

It felt like my true protagonist had been waiting in the wings, arms folded and foot tapping impatiently, waiting for me to kick the imposter off the stage and let her make her grand entrance.  I found that I knew her name, her backstory, even her speech patterns.

The result was a story called "Memorial" which appeared in Issue #95 of Black Cat Magazine.  

By the way, the photos  were taken in Greece.  In the USA we would assume these were "little libraries" but over there they are something else.  Our guide said they are created by families and mark the spot where a loved one died - or miraculously didn't.  They range in size from a domestic mailbox to almost as large as a bus shelter.  I haven't written any stories about them.

Yet.

Writing Dialog

Happy Independence Day!

Summer is a great time for reruns, so today I present “Writing Dialog,” which has been published in several places and is both a short story and a lesson in writing dialog. Enjoy. — Michael

Writing Dialog

“Dialog is difficult to write,” I said.

“Why?” An attractive young writer, eager to learn the secrets of my success, sat across from me. This wasn’t the first time we’d met to discuss writing.

“Because it must be realistic without being real.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, um, I’m not sure I can explain it, but—let’s see—real people, like, they stop and start and, um, they st-stutter and talk in run-on sentences. Or incomplete sentences. And they don’t always think before they, um, open their mouths and stuff. You know?”

“That was bad.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” I said. “I hear people talking like that every day.”

She leaned forward. “So how do you make dialog realistic without being real?”

I considered for a moment before continuing. “Take out the fluff. Don’t start sentences with ‘well.’ Eliminate the ‘um’s and ‘er’s. Eliminate throwaway bits such as ‘by the way.’”

“That sounds easy enough, but that can’t be it. There must be more.”

I reached across the table and patted her hand. She didn’t pull away. “There’s much more, but perhaps we should order a drink before continuing. You game?”

After she said she was, I called the waiter over, ordered a pair of frozen margaritas, and watched him walk away. Then I continued. “That was a good example.”

She appeared bewildered. “Of what?”

“Of knowing when to write dialog and when not to.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“I could have written, ‘I called the waiter over. He introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Bob. I’ll be serving you today.” “Hi, Bob,” I said. “What will you have?” he asked. “Two frozen margaritas,” I told him. “Is that all?” “Yes, Bob, that’s all,” I said. Then I watched him walk away before I continued.’”

“That wouldn’t have advanced the plot at all, would it?”

I smiled. She was beginning to understand. I said, “Not at all.”

“Anything else?”

“Avoid long blocks of ‘dialog’ where a single character does all the talking. Once a character has said more than three consecutive sentences, you’re in danger of writing a monolog or a soliloquy. Even worse is when each of your characters speaks in long, uninterrupted blocks. That creates alternating monologues.”

“That was four sentences.”

“You could have interrupted me and broken it up a bit.”

“No,” she said. She licked salt off the rim of her glass. “I like listening to you.”

I liked what her tongue was doing but I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted. I had much more to teach her.

“The info dump should also be avoided,” I told her, ”especially in dialog.”

“What’s an info dump?”

“An info dump is when the author needs or wants to convey information to the reader and chooses to do it in a block of text rather than parceling it out in bits and pieces as the story progresses.” I took a sip from my margarita and realized she’d already finished half of hers. “It’s especially bad when one character tells the other character something they both already know.”

“Give me an example.”

“As you know, we’re sitting in the bar of Bonita’s, a place you once described as your favorite Mexican restaurant. Bonita’s was opened in 1910 and is still owned and operated by the same family. It started as a hole-in the-wall and has grown significantly since then. What makes Bonita’s unique is that the founding family—the Fitzpatricks—are Irish. It’s the best place in town to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day and Cinco de Mayo.”

I saw a twinkle in the young writer’s eye. Maybe it was my charm. Maybe it was just the alcohol. “I did know all that. So why did you tell it to me?”

“Info dump.”

“Will it be important later in the story?”

“I doubt it.”

She caught the waiter’s attention and ordered two more frozen margaritas. I had barely finished my first one when he arrived with the fresh margaritas.

“What else?” she asked.

“Avoid blathering.”

“What’s blathering?”

“When one character asks a question that can be answered simply, but the second character uses it as a jumping off point to ramble on and on.”

“For example?”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Jo,” she said. “I was named after my uncle Joe, but my parents dropped the ‘e’ to make my name feminine. My uncle Joe was a cool guy. He taught me to hunt and fish. Well, my uncle Joe and my Dad did. They took to me to Clauson’s farm every summer. The Clausons were my mother’s cousins. My mother never went out there with us. She liked to stay home. She said she enjoyed having a little time to herself. She—” The young writer stopped and looked at me. She had beautiful blue eyes. “I’m blathering, aren’t I?”

I smiled and repeated something she’d said earlier. “I like listening to you.”

This time she reached across the table for my hand and our fingers entwined. Then she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and looked deep into my eyes.

I cleared my throat. “Of course, most of these rules can be broken if the story warrants it. Sometimes you need a character who stutters or one who blathers. But just one.”

She stroked my palm with the tip of one finger. “What else?”

“Always have a good line to exit the scene.”

Jo lowered her voice. “And what do you have?”

I already knew her answer, but I asked because it was the best way to end the scene. “Would you like to go to my place and see my manuscripts?”

There’s no solving the mystery of great mysteries.

Our benevolent overlords here at SleuthSayers, Robert Lopresti and Leigh Lundin, give us wide latitude over the topics we want to focus on. For which I’m very grateful.  But since this is a mystery writing blog, I thought, why not write about mysteries?

I’ve argued long and loudly that mysteries and thrillers are really no different from any other form of literary expression.  And vice versa.  I once asked a reviewer if a general fiction book I was working on could be considered a thriller.  She asked, “Does it have a gun?”  I said yes. “Does it kill somebody?” Yes, a mafia thug.  “Then it’s a thriller.”

And she reviewed it. 

Though to be fair, there are a few guidelines to follow if you want to write within the genre.  First off, you need a mystery.  A puzzle to be solved.  And a protagonist who is launched into solving it - unwillingly, eagerly or professionally.  The book ends with the solution revealed, though it doesn’t have to be clear cut or definitive.  That’s about it.  Everything else is up for grabs. 

Mysteries are also quest stories.  Beginning with the Odyssey, quests are probably the most frequently employed plot convention.  If you’re going to solve a mystery, you have to venture into the world to find clues, analyze evidence, and doggedly canvas the likely participants.  I think it was Ross MacDonald who said mysteries are about detectives driving around in cars and interviewing people.  Essentially, there’s something that needs to be learned, and someone on a mission to discover what it is. 

There are elements of danger for the protagonists – wicked characters who don’t want the mystery solved, or malign bureaucracies who’d rather just let things be.  You don’t have to be Mickey Spillane to clothe your story in a mood of menace and imminent peril.  Usually the challenges are made of misdirection, dishonesty and obfuscation.  So it’s not just a matter of being quicker on the draw, the hero has to have a good analytical mind to navigate through the murky waters and overcome obstacles constantly thrown up by the opposition.

So by definition, mysteries are solved by smart, determined and resourceful people, who have the ability to perceive the psychology of criminal minds, without having to be criminals themselves (though sometimes they are). 

Often the protagonist is the reader herself.  The puzzle is laid out in the unfolding story, and the thrill is trying to figure out what the hell is going on. 

I think Gone Girl is among the most brilliant mysteries of all time, though there’s no intrepid detective central to the story.  You may argue that it’s more a thriller, and thrillers can have no mystery involved at all, the suspense derived from other plot details (the bomb beneath Grand Central is going to blow on New Years Eve!), but those are pure thrillers.  Mystery thrillers need at least the skeleton of a mystery at its core (I’ll refer you to Lee Child). 

What sets mysteries apart is there’s an intellectual component.  A figuring out.  A puzzle, a literary crossword, acrostic, jigsaw, Rubik’s Cube. 

I don’t see these things as restrictions.  In fact, I believe they make for better books, because the writer is forced to have a well-formed plot.  Usually characters are the most engaging features of a good mystery, so the plot doesn’t have to be an intricate brainteaser, but it has to be there, and believable and satisfying once resolved.     

As a genre that encompasses the psychological, historical, hard boiled, sci-fi, romantic, fantastical, Western, closed-room Victorian, and on and on, there’s plenty there to suit everyone’s tastes. 

One of the most appealing features of good mysteries are what I call mini mysteries.  Those ancillary stories embedded in the plot where the protagonist has to solve something that is necessary to move along his/her quest.  (Whose DNA was also there at the murder scene?  The name Joey was on a slip of paper in the victim’s pocket.  Who the hell is Joey?) The reader gets almost the same charge out of solving these incremental steps as the story overall, and they help keep the pace ripping along.  Sometimes these mini mysteries are red herrings, misleading trails.  Sometimes a red herring consumes most of the plot, which is fine.  Near the end of a book, you’re thinking, oh no, if it wasn’t that evil steel-foundry plutocrat who killed the Swedish biology professor, who was it?!

I still maintain that great mysteries are great literature.  And some recognized literary fictions are in fact gripping crime novels (I refer you to The Great Gatsby and The Name of the Rose).  

It really doesn’t matter at the end of the day.  A wonderful book is a wonderful book no matter how it fits into literary taxonomy. 

           

Time Warped: How Not to Write a Historical

No excuses, this comes far too late to be an acceptable movie review, but this article has another purpose— how not to write historicals. Although I wrote this long ago, I pushed it aside as other articles took priority. It dates back to one of John Floyd’s articles, where we found ourselves among the tens of people who kinda, sorta liked the movie, Django Unchained, which I watched with my friend, Sharon. She agreed with the rest of the world that the film was, to put it gently, flawed.

1858

Both Sharon and I were distracted by a staggering number of errors and anachronisms in the movie, especially items from the wrong century. To our disbelief, the DVD came with a Tarantino interview in which he bragged about the historical research. That was, pardon the pun, djarring.

Anachronisms leaped off the screen. They included wrong period clothing, wrong period guns (multiple), wrong period props and accessories, and very wrong period verbal expressions (mother-ƒer? Seriously?). When non-experts notice 20+ errors in a film, that celluloid is in trouble.

Except for two pieces of incidental music, I won’t address the soundtrack beyond saying the modern cuts djangled the nerves. It felt like an amateur YouTube video where contributors slip in unrelated cuts of music and images, without regard to the story. David Frost called out-of-context media the Lord Privy Seal effect.

Likewise, accidental appearances of modern devices aren’t included here. For example, some sharp-eyed viewer noticed a security camera high on the veranda of the antebellum mansion.

Time Warped

1. The movie contained the famous bust of Nefertiti, incorrectly referred to as Cleopatra. It wasn’t discovered until 1907. (I learned of Nefertiti as a child. My mother gave my father a bust for his birthday. I mean she gave him a statuette.)
2. Teddy Bears, associated with President Teddy Roosevelt, wouldn't appear until the 1900s.
3. Thousand-dollar bills weren’t issued until 1861.
4. The Confederacy had not been formed and the Civil War had not begun, so Confederate uniforms wouldn't have existed in 1858.
5. Likewise, the Ku Klux Klan didn’t group until the end of the Civil War.
6. The town of Lubbock didn't exist until 1890, well after the American Civil War.
7. The word malarkey came out of the 1920-1930s.
8. Für Elise famously wasn’t discovered until 1867, four decades after Beethoven’s death and nine years after the movie’s period.
9. The song ‘In the Sweet By and By’ was published in 1868, a decade after the movie.
10. Flip-top beer bottles may or may not have been a German innovation, but at least in the US, they weren’t patented until 1875.
11. Beer pumps were first noted in the UK in 1691 and patented a century later in 1785, but this methodology of draught beer only became popular in the mid 1900s.
12. Drinking straws made of paper were invented in 1888.
13. While cigarette holders were introduced in the 1700s, they didn’t become popular until the flapper era through the 1970s.
14. Dynamite was invented by Alfred Nobel in 1864 and patented in 1867.
15. Hearing aids weren’t invented until the 1900’s and miniature aids didn’t appear until the latter half of the 20^th century.
16. Attendant to the previous, the first primitive plastics weren’t introduced until 1907 and materials suitable for hearing aids and chin straps took another half century to come about.
17. Even some guns were out of place and time.
1. The Remington New Model Army revolver, used by Django and Billy Crash, weren’t manufactured until 1860.
2. The Remington double-barreled Derringer, used by Django and Dr. Shultz, weren’t manufactured until 1866.

Bonus Points

Sharon caught most of the following:

18. Cool looking sunglasses and contacts weren’t available in 1858.
19. Hats with cord locks and eyelets were a 20th century invention.
20. Likewise, trousers with belt loops weren’t an 1850s convenience.

I can’t think of another movie that flooded the screen with historical inaccuracies. What about you? Do you have such a film in mind?

Another Box of Chocolates (15 Years Later)

  

Back in 2008, when I and three fellow SleuthSayers (Leigh, Rob, and Janice Law) were posting every week at a mystery bog called Criminal Brief, I wrote a column--a quiz, actually--about quotes from movies, called "Dialogue Is Like a Box of Chocolates." The idea was that fictional dialogue--you really don't know what you're gonna get--can sometimes outlast the stories themselves. It was a long list, and since there wasn't enough space to include some quotes that I really liked, I later came back and posted another one--and caused more trouble, yes, that's trouble, right here in River City.

For anyone--at least any movielover--who didn't see those two posts, here's a reprint of the second one. It includes fifty more quotes from the big screen, about half of them from mystery/crime/suspense movies. So if last night you dreamed you went to Manderley again, or if you woke up screaming STELLA or ADRIAN, or if you just picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue, try your luck at this quiz. Go the distance, make my day, show me the money, use the Force, and do that voodoo that you do so well. If you answer them all, you're king of the world and I'm your number one fan. If you don't, well, no worries, mate, don't flee the interview--tomorrow is another day. And we'll aways have Paris. Any questions, anyone? Anyone?

Okay, here we go. Just remember: As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88 mph the instant the lightning strikes the tower . . . everything'll be fine.

Answers are provided below--but no peeking. (That means you, Leigh . . .)

1. Tell them Inspector Callahan thinks there's a two-eleven in progress at the bank.

2. That plane's dusting crops where there ain't no crops.

3. If I don't come back, tell Mother I love her. / Your mother's dead, Llewelyn. / Well then, I'll tell her myself.

4. Anybody hear that? It's an impact tremor, that's what it is. I'm fairly alarmed here.

5. And that was the end of Grogan--the man who killed my father, raped and murdered my sister, burned my ranch, shot my dog . . . and stole my Bible.

6. You are in need of a soothsayer. / How did you know? / I'd be a fine soothsayer if I didn't. 

7. This lighter has sixty-two different functions. Sixty-three if you wish to light a cigar.

8. Funny thing is, on the outside I was an honest man. I had to come to prison to be a crook.

9. I'd like to make her look a little more attractive. How far can you pull back? / How to you feel about Cleveland?

10. That's a Smith and Wesson--and you've had your six.

11. Don't open my pantry, Father. I found one of them in there and I locked him in.

12. What if there is no tomorrow? There wasn't one today.

13. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.

14. You just shot an unarmed man! / He should've armed himself.

15. When you said you chased tornadoes, I thought that was just a metaphor.

16. Travis! Bring your gun!

17. That was the end of my religion period. I ain't sung a hymn for 104 years.

18. I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too.

19. I want Ness . . . dead. I want his family . . . dead. I want his house . . . burned to the ground.

20. Why would a man leave his apartment three times on a rainy night with a suitcase and come back three times?

21. Give me ten men like Clouseau and I could destroy the world.

22. Have you ever killed anyone? / Yeah, but they were all bad.

23. Raise your hands--and all of your flippers.

24. He's in a gunfight right now. He'll have to call you back.

25. I read where you were shot five times in the tabloids. / It's not true. He didn't come anywhere near my tabloids.

26. This was no boat accident.

27. On the day of my judgment, when I stand before God, and He asks me why did I kill one of his true miracles, what am I gonna say? That it was my job? My job?

28. You know, the one thing I can't figure out, are these girls real smart or real real lucky?

29. There's only one rule. Once you go in . . . you don't come out.

30. You can shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit 'em . . .

31. By the authority vested in me by Kaiser William the Second, I pronounce you man and wife. Proceed with the execution.

32. I don't want to get any messages saying that we're holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let the Hun do that.

33. Igor, help me with the bags. / Certainly. You take the blonde, I'll take the one in the turban. / I was talking about the luggage.

34. The next time I say something like let's go to Bolivia, let's go to Bolivia.

35. Every man on that transport died. Harry wasn't there to save them because you weren't there to save Harry.

36. We rob banks.

37. I just noticed that a fancy pilot like Slick over there doesn't have his picture on your wall. What do you have to do to get your picture up there anyway? / You have to die, sweetie.

38. Down your weapons put.

39. Ain't had no water since yesterday, Lord. Gettin' a little thirsty. Just thought I'd mention it. Amen.

40. That ditch is Boss Kean's ditch. And I told him that dirt in it's your dirt. What's your dirt doin' in his ditch?

41. The last miracle I did was the 1969 Mets. Before that, I think you have to go back to the Red Sea.

42. I'm always frank and earnest with women. In New York I'm Frank, in Chicago I'm Ernest.

43. I asked for a car, I got a computer. How's that for being born under a bad sign?

44. I'd like to report a truck driver who's been endangering my life.

45. Kane will be a dead man in half an hour and nobody's gonna do anything about it. And when he dies, this town dies too.

46. You know anything about a guy who goes around playing a harmonica?

47. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.

48. I once asked this literary agent, what kind of writing paid the best. He said, "Ransom notes."

49. What is your nationality? / I'm a drunkard.

50. Is this coincidence, or are you back on the case? If so, goody goody.

ANSWERS:

1. Dirty Harry -- Clint Eastwood, speaking into a phone in the cafe across the street

2. North by Northwest -- Man standing in the road, to Cary Grant

3. No Country for Old Men -- Josh Brolin / his wife / Brolin

4. Jurassic Park -- Jeff Goldblum

5. Romancing the Stone -- Kathleen Turner, narrating 

6. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum -- Zero Mostel / Buster Keaton / Mostel

7. Our Man Flint -- James Coburn, to his boss Lee J. Cobb

8. The Shawshank Redemption -- Tim Robbins

9. Tootsie -- director / cameraman

10. Dr. No -- Sean Connery to inept assassin Anthony Dawson

11. Signs -- veterinarian M. Night Shyamalan to former priest Mel Gibson, in front of the farmhouse

12. Groundhog Day -- Bill Murray to Andie MacDowell

13. The Usual Suspects -- Kevin Spacey

14. Unforgiven -- bystander / Clint Eastwood

15. Twister -- Jami Gertz to Bill Paxton

16. Old Yeller -- Dorothy Maguire to son Tommy Kirk

17. Little Big Man -- Dustin Hoffman

18. The Wizard of Oz -- Margaret Hamilton to Judy Garland

19. The Untouchables -- Robert DeNiro to his assembled goons

20. Rear Window -- James Stewart to Grace Kelly

21. A Shot in the Dark -- Herbert Lom to his assistant

22. True Lies -- Jamie Lee Curtis / former governor Schwartzenegger

23. Men in Black -- agent Tommy Lee Jones to alien

24. Under Siege -- Erika Eleniak, on the satellite phone to the top brass

25. The Thin Man -- Myrna Loy / William Powell

26. Jaws -- Richard Dreyfuss, while examining shark victim's body

27. The Green Mile -- Tom Hanks to prisoner Michael Clarke Duncan

28. Thelma and Louise -- Stephen Tobolowski to fellow cop Harvey Keitel

29. Escape from New York -- narrator, describing Manhattan Federal Prison

30. (But it's a sin) To Kill a Mockingbird -- Gregory Peck to his children at the kitchen table

31. The African Queen -- Peter Bull to captives Bogie and Hepburn

32. Patton -- George C. Scott, during speech to troops

33. Young Frankenstein -- Gene Wilder / Marty Feldman / Wilder

34. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid -- Newman to Redford

35. It's a Wonderful Life -- angel Henry Travers to James Stewart

36. Bonnie and Clyde -- Faye Dunaway

37. The Right Stuff -- customer in bar / Kim Stanley

38. The Empire Strikes Back -- Yoda to the opposition

39. The Ballad of Cable Hogue -- Jason Robards, while wandering in the desert

40. Cool Hand Luke -- prison guard Luke Askew to Paul Newman

41. Oh, God -- George Burns, replying to a lawyer's question in court

42. The Long Kiss Goodnight -- Samuel L. Jackson

43. Ferris Bueller's Day Off -- Matthew Broderick to audience

44. Duel -- a frazzled Dennis Weaver, into the phone

45. High Noon -- Katy Jurado to Lloyd Bridges, in her hotel room

46. Once Upon a Time in the West -- Jason Robards

47. The Terminator -- Michael Biehn to Linda Hamilton, referring to Ahhhhnold

48. Get Shorty -- Gene Hackman

49. Casablanca -- German officer / Humphrey Bogart, at a table in Rick's

50. Hannibal -- Anthony Hopkins to Julianne Moore, on the phone

And that's that. Again, I hope some of those brought back fond memories--if so, goody goody. If not, rest easy--I'm about quizzed out. (In other words, ain't gonna be no rematch. Don't want one.)

Anybody up for a toga party?