More coming down the pipe line

 If you're a writer, it just makes sense you're writing the next story. The next poem. The next movie script . . . or whatever your muse is insisting you create. And so it goes with me. I write novels. Novels which spin out into multi-volume series.

At last count, I'm working on five separate series.  Two historical mysteries, a police-procedural, a fantasy series, and a dark noir series. (Yes, you're right. What the hell is a guy at my age trying to write five damn series?!)

Today I'd like to focus on two of'em. I thought I'd share the opening paragraphs of each.

First up is the police-procedural series. Book Five is very close in being a reality. The book is entitled A Murder Grimly. Homicide detectives Turner Hahn and Frank Morales find themselves sinking into the quagmire of a mystery with lots of bodies falling all over the place.

Here's the opening  glimpse.

One

 

         

   The full moon hung low over the rippling waters of the Brown River. A big, yellow gumball of a moon. Clinging to the fabric of the night so close to the river, one could imagine reaching up and grabbing it with a gloved hand. Much like a sliding outfielder getting underneath a deep hit to center field.

A hard case crime series with a little verbal poetry thrown in to set it apart from everyone else. The second selection is from the third entry into dark noir. I have a hit man who is slowly turning himself into a private detective . . . of sorts.. Actually, the guy is an enigma. He's not necessarily a bad man. Nor, strangely, others consider him a good man. Again, the enigma thing. The third book in the series is called Diedrich Park.

Here's the opening of the novel.

One

 

She was a tall woman dressed in a knee length navy blue wool coat. On the right lapel of
the coat was a large silver brooch with four white pearls arranged in a diamond shape in the center of the jewelry. She wore tight fitting black leather gloves on her narrow but long hands. On her short cut brunette hair was a matching blue pillbox hat with some kind of black netting pulled down half way over her face.

He watched with interest as she stepped off the escalator’s last step and moved into the milling herd of the food court’s busiest feeding frenzy. It was nine minutes to one. On a drizzly wet and extremely chilly Saturday afternoon. 

This one is coming along nicely. But it's a little way down the road before it comes out. I hope you like it when it hits the book stores.

A couple of TV series to tickle your fancy.

 

The other day I stumbled onto two TV series I fell in love with immediately, Each series based off literary figures I'm fairly sure we are all familiar with---or should be familiar with by this time in our lives.

I'm sure you recognize the name Sherlock Holmes. A character that became a world-wide literary figure created by a British doctor, Sir Conan Doyle back in 1887. Holmes was famous for his keen observational talents and vast intellect. A poly-math, actually, who continues to fascinate readers from here to the Rigel star-system.

And if you remember Sherlock Holmes, you will also remember his arch-rival, James Moriarty. Just as brilliant. Just as in love with deductive reasoning as Holmes. But perhaps for more deadly.

In this series, we discover Sherlock Holmes as a 10-year old failed college student. Yes, you read that correctly. Failed. At the same time, you also discover that he and James Moriarty become close friends fascinated in solving diabolical crimes. The series is brilliantly written. You'll binge-watch it all the way through the moment it first comes to life on you TV screen.

The second TV series to emerge yourself in is  a modern-day rewrite of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. If you like good science-fiction, this is the puppy for you. The concept of submarines, goes back (at least in American History) to 1775, during the American Revolution. I'll let you (if you-re interested) in looking up the details. Just type in American Revolution--The Turtle and read all about it. A true submarine in American History, didn't come around until 1864 when the Confederates sank a Union warship.

I mention these submarines because, as we all know, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, centers

around a submarine called, The Nautilus. Wait until you see this version of that famous sub in the series. And while you're at it, take a close personal interest in it's captain, Captain Nemo

He's an entirely different character altogether.

I'm just into this series, and so far, I like what I've seen. I hope you do too.

Book-trailers (again)

 Okay, ask yourself this question: 

What ingredients are needed in order to make a great book-trailer? 

A good trailer is like brewing up your own brand of home-cooked chili. It takes more than tons of chili powder to make a great pot of chili. You need tomato paste. Tomato chunks diced and thrown in. Onions. Various vegetables.  In fact, to make a great chili almost becomes a work of art. There are a gazillion numbers of recipes on how to make a pot chili.

Choose the one that closely matches your taste buds.

Making a book-trailer is essentially the same thing.

A book-trailer essentially has three main ingredients. One, it needs great visuals to visually glue the potential reader to the subject at hand. Two (and probably the most important)  it needs a tight script which instantly captures the possible reader's imagination. Thirdly, the voice of the narrator  has to be spot-on perfect for the subject at hand. A comedian cracking jokes trying to describe a dark noir mystery probably isn't going to work for anyone.

So here we go. I'm sharing my latest book-trailer featuring a book of mine entitled Smitty's Calling Card. (look down the right column featuring my books. You'll find it.)

I'm interested in hearing your opinions.

 

The Chandler/Hammit Debate

Have you ever read something created by the writer, Raymond Chandler? You haven't? 

Oh my . . . 

In my opinion, Raymond Chandler is the inventor of the modern American pulp-fiction detective.  Oh sure, sure. Most pundits would say American pulp-fiction was actually created by a writer by the name of Dashiell Hammit. And indeed, I'll give credit where credit is due. Hammit  arrived on the scene just before the arrival of Chandler. Hammit wrote fast-paced, hard hitting mysteries with bodies dropping on every other page and gun-play that would satisfy any ham-fisted thug. He also filled his pages with dry, sarcastic wordplay that instantly separated his novels from everyone else who came before him.

Raymond Chandler

You can't help but find yourself compelled with Hammit's creations. It seems like everyone on the planet has heard the titles to two of his most famous books, i.e.; The Maltese Falcon and The Thin Man.

Two novels which I re-read again and again because they're just that satisfying to do.

But look at it this way.

Comparing the two writers is like comparing the sufferings of a patient with a badly ruptured appendicitis. Do you want this poor fellow to walk into a butcher's shop to get the help he needs?

Or would you prefer seeing the patient walk into the waiting room of a world-class surgeon?

That's the difference between Hammit's style of word-play versus Chandler's. The ham-fisted, shoot first and ask no questions later kind of anti-hero. Versus the delicious word play artistry of a reluctant hero forced to step forward to help those who can't, or won't, help themselves.

I urge you to decide for yourself who was the better of the two. Go out and find a copy of Hammit's The Thin Man and read it. And then find a copy of Chandler's Farewell, My Lovely. I'm betting you'll enjoy both. Which one will you enjoy the most?

(And while you're at it, let me know something. Did I misspell Dashiell Hammit's last name? Again?)

Dammit Sherlock, where do we go from here?

 I'm deep into the writing of the book--and I'm facing the biggest frickin' traffic intersection in my life.  I assume a writer, when they begin a project, begins with a relatively clear image on how the journey goes forward.

So for the next dozen or so pages, maybe even four or five chapters into the tome, the going is relatively fast. Sure, there are some bumps and bruises along the way. But that's to be expected.

I mean . . . come on. You're writing a damn novel.  It may not be rocket science. But to those who are not rocket scientists, it's pretty damn close.

But then . . . oh boy.

Somewhere deep in the novel (for me roughly around the 100 page mark) you realize you're trapped in the that nebulous aura of vagary called The Middle Book. That means you've created so many characters and launched them in so many different trajectories, you find yourself in a maze of possibilities you no longer can control. You become lost in an ocean of possibilities.

Some pundit (that is, some person who almost knows what they're talking about) once described writing a novel is much like playing a chess game. There's the Opening Game. Followed by The Middle Game. And naturally, The End Game bringing the conclusion to the epic battle.

In chess there is a point system that one can tally up points for each opposite chess piece you can remove from the board. Of course, in the opening of the game, the score starts out 0/0 until one or the other player takes a chess piece. And then the points begin to pile up as the game goes along.

But then an interesting phenomenon happens. There is an initial flurry of pieces being taken off the board by each player. The Middle Game arrives .And along with it, the curious realization comes along that, no matter what piece you take off the board from your opponent, the points awarded will be equal in worth. So which piece do you go after next?

The same is true in writing a novel. So many characters are in play. So many plot lines suddenly open up, you realize you can find yourself traveling down a path you never thought possible. But it becomes even more curious. That unexpected plot line, in turn, can come spiraling into a dead end, and off you go down a different path altogether.

So the question is, what do you do next?

Answer? 

Either stay on the new course you've taken and follow it to the bitter end. Or, and this is what I think happens for most novelists, you do nothing. You let the characters in the novel take over and just follow where they want to go.

In the end, if you don't like where you wound up with, you can always go back and tear out sections  and rewrite those sections which  which veered you veered off into never-neverland. 

On the other hand, deciding to go along with your characters as they chart out their own paths might create a better book. And ultimately, that's what you want isn't it?

Poetic Noir

 Hello . . . remember me? 

I'm the eccentric writer who likes to muse over his potentially eccentric writing. Not that it matters much; few people travel down this oddball lane of dubious verbiage as I do. But then, on the other hand, maybe there might be one or two of you who will  stumble along, eyes looking downward and glued into the pages of a novel, and runs into me.

Now wouldn't that be wonderful. Stranger things do happen in this world.

Today's helping of literary fancy is called Poetic Noir. My definition of this non-existent term would go like this: Turning the ordinary Noir novel into a vivid portrait of imagery and emotions much like an artist capturing the light and fascination of an intriguing personality on a piece of canvas.

Essentially, how do you design a salad bowl of random words into a coherent roadmap of sentences which fascinates a reader's entire interest into the world you've created for him? Ah, that's the conundrum. And no two writers, or fans of Noir (or any genre), will ever come to a common agreement.

But let me end this smear of provocative nonsense with an example of something I'm writing on currently.  Below is the first page of a short-story called 'Call Me Smitty.'  You can find the entire short-story in a collection of short-stories entitled, There Is No Johnny.

See if it tickles your fancy.

In the darkened solitude of the car, he watched her hurriedly walk across the semi-deserted street and step up onto the opposite curb. All the time moving underneath the curved expanse of a red umbrella. 

 Red. 

 Her favorite color. Red umbrella. Red shoes. A red dress. A red car. Red … Like the color of blood. 

 The rain was coming down hard. Pelting the sidewalks and street with droplets big enough to almost knock someone out. Like getting hit with a blackjack. Unexpected. Making everyone run and dance between raindrops, seeking some form of safety from the deluge. It drenched every living creature with a wet monotony that simply refused to let up. Made dogs growl and snap at their own masters. Made women think about killing their husbands. Made husbands think about their wives. Unpleasantly. Especially in this part of town. A rough neighborhood. Whorehouses. Pawnshops. Cheap saloons.

You'll need more sugar

Would you like to have your mind blown? Well,  it certainly will be when you go to Apple-+ TV and watch a series called Sugar. The show is a modern day version of a classic Crime Noir movie--except this is a limited run TV series. And, brothers and sisters, it is mesmerizing to watch!

Collin Farrell is the private investigator who specializes in finding missing person cases. You instantly bond to the character because you hear his thoughts and see his daily fights to remain 'normal' in an insane world. And you quickly realize the man is carrying secrets, lots of secrets, around with him.

Essentially the first season is all about finding the granddaughter of a very powerful movie mogul.She's young, with a long history of being messed up with drugs, sex, booze--as, we eventually find out, her entire family is seriously off the rails as well. But this intrepid investigator quickly gets into the investigation and starts showing an unusual need to find the girl as quickly as possible. An odd enigma we wonder about until the very end of the series where we find out the driving force behind his investigation.

Ah! But there is an even more revealing surprise waiting to be revealed!

At midpoint in the series run, a real surprise come to us. The series started out as a classic noir crime story. But then, another entirely different literary genre is thrown into the mixing pot--and it is a revelation that just takes the breath away from you! And it fits! This new inclusion of a different genre blends into the overall plot perfectly, making the overall plot even more captivating!

Nope.

I'm not going to reveal anything. Best you take in the series yourself and make the decision on if you like it or not.

But you will. I know you will,