Geez, there's just bits of me everywhere

I'm not here today.

You'll find me talking about my wandering mind and ever-moving mouth at Crime Fiction Collective.

I'm being interviewed on a GREAT author blog at HBS Author's Spotlight. Check it out.

And of course, being Thursday, I'm discussing the latest entertainment at the Carline house - namely our son moving back for the summer, along with all his 'stuff'. This comes via the Placentia News-Times.

On Saturday, I'm actually over at Writers Who Kill, so stay tuned for that.

Guest post: James M. Jackson

I met the members of the blog Writers Who Kill last year, when they contacted me after reading Crime Fiction Collective (which is just one reason why I'm so happy to be part of CFC). WWK are a cool bunch, and one member, James M. Jackson, has a new book out and asked if he could wander over to my blog for a visit.

Well, of course! I always have the coffee pot on for guests.

I sent Jim a list of questions, which he graciously answered. Before we get going on the interview, let's see the new book, BAD POLICY. (It's available in trade paperback, too. This was just the picture I pulled out of Amazon.)

 

 

Now then, let's get to the Q and A:

Quick, give us the Reader’s Digest version of your life story.

An Upstate New York native who worked for twenty years on the East Coast before landing in Cincinnati for the last ten years of employment, I was (prepare to yawn) a consulting actuary who designed and determined the funding for pension plans and post-retirement medical plans for large corporations, not-for-profits and governments.

My life-partner, Jan, and I now split our time between the woods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and Georgia’s low country near Savannah. Between us we have four children and four grandchildren.

I confess, I haven’t read Bad Policy YET (it’s on the list). Can you tell us a little about the story?

Seamus McCree returns to his Cincinnati home from a business trip to discover someone has planted in his basement the body of an acquaintance. The victim suffered an IRA six-pack (shots to the elbows, knees and ankles) before being shot in the head. Police suspect Seamus and so he searches for reasons someone tried to frame him.

He soon uncovers a trail that leads back to his Boston roots and a poisonous family feud dating from the divorce of Boston’s Irish mafia and the Provisional IRA in the 1970s.

Driven by the chilling realization that there was more behind the death of his policeman father than he ever knew, Seamus ignores warnings from the police, friends and enemies and continues to dig for the truth.

As the body count climbs, all trails seem to lead back to him, and Seamus is forced to go underground to find out who is framing him—and why—before he becomes the next victim.

How did your character, Seamus McCree, begin life in your head?

My twisted mind sees a financial transaction and in its spare time tries to figure out a way to game the system. Fortunately a combination of decent morals and being sufficiently scared about being caught kept me from implementing any of the schemes I came up with. (Oh, and none of the nefarious transactions would have gained me $10 million, so temptation was never really tested.)

When it came time to create a protagonist, I wanted that person to be (1) a basically good person and (2) someone who understood financial crimes. That’s when I decided to create an alter ego who quit Wall Street in disgust (and so had the requisite financial acumen). I dislike single-dimension characters or caricatures. I wanted Seamus to be totally comfortable around money, but not into it. Since that aspect of his life was healthy and he’s smart and tall and ruggedly handsome, he needed some flaws.

Seamus decided on his own flaws as I wrote the novels.

His father died when he was young. As a result he has anger and self-image issues. He’s divorced and hasn’t figured out female relationships as well as he wants (or should). He has a challenging relationship with his mother, who does not speak, and an interesting rapport with his son, who has just graduated college.

What’s your writing process like? Are you an outlining guy, or a pantser?

I am a big-time pantser. Even when I try to plot out in advance, my characters have minds of their own and take the story to places my plotting had not anticipated. Consequently, I start with an idea, an opening scene and initial expected conclusion. From those I write the first draft, which may or may not contain the expected conclusion. The second draft makes sense of the plot changes my characters have caused.

You’ve also written some nonfiction. What goaded you into writing a book about playing bridge?

There are a gazillion bridge books, each focusing on a particular aspect of the game (bidding, playing the contract, defending against the contract), and I read a lot of them as I was learning the game. I wanted someone to whisper in my ear, “If you concentrate on improving these particular things, you will improve your game.”

Through trial and error (many, many errors) I figured out which gems really helped me quickly improve my game. Those are the things I wrote about. It includes practical tips on better bidding, declarer play and defensive play.

Is your process different for nonfiction than for fiction?

In fiction I am a pantser, but with nonfiction I outlined the book before I wrote word one. The editing process is also different. The editor of my bridge book was an expert player and able to point out technical problems with some of the examples I chose, allowing me to find better examples. Also, the publisher wanted the book longer than I had first written, so I added extra material.

My self-editing with fiction often involves cutting from the manuscript. I want to start the story as late as possible and also eliminate scenes that aren’t sufficiently strong. After BAD POLICY got to the publisher, I only had to modify a couple of very minor plot points, correct a few grammar errors and insert a lot of commas because the editor wanted the last comma in a sequence and I leave them out.

What job would you absolutely hate to do?

Being a steelworker on a skyscraper like these guys building the RCA building in 1932. They had no safety harnesses, but I’d be a blithering idiot even with a harness.

What’s your go-to curse word (you can use asterisks – we’ll fill in the blanks)?

My writing may be sparse, but my cursing seems to require multiple expletives. Most common under my breath is sh*t, p*ss, f*k.
 

Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe? Why?

I kept coming back to this question and finally decided Philip Marlowe. Sam Spade is known as the original hard-boiled detective, but Marlowe strikes me as a bit more nuanced. Given my druthers, I spend my time with more modern PIs such as Sara Paretsky’s VI Warshawski.

What’s one of the words you always have to yank out of your novels because you’ve used it too many times? (Hint: Apparently, I use “apparently” a lot.)

So, I was thinking about this for a nanosecond before the answer became obvious.

Is your glass half-full, half-empty, or twice as large as it needs to be?

In 2005, I gave a homily on that exact question. I knew I had always perceived the world using the half-empty glass philosophy. At first I decided I needed to concentrate on filling the glass, only to later realize that was still focusing on the empty aspect of the glass, not its contents. Since that “aha” moment, I have been much better at reflecting what is in the glass and not worrying about how big the glass can be—unless I am caught off guard, then I slip back to half-empty before I catch myself.

Would you rather be a sock or a shoe? Why?

Shoe, they last longer.

What’s your idea of a perfect day?

Today.

What’s next on the horizon for James Montgomery Jackson?

CABIN FEVER, the sequel to BAD POLICY is scheduled for 2014 publication. Seamus is spending the winter alone deep in the northwoods of Michigan. His solitude is broken when a naked woman suffering from exposure and Legionnaire’s disease arrives at his cabin.

* * * * *

Thanks, Jim, for spending a little time on my blog today, and good luck with Seamus and Bad Policy!

Bio: JAMES M JACKSON is the author of BAD POLICY, for Barking Rain Press, which is available at your favorite online retailer or from Jim’s website. Known as James Montgomery Jackson on his tax return and to his mother whenever she was really mad at him, he splits his time between the woods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and Georgia’s low country. Jim has published a book on contract bridge, One Trick at a Time: How to start winning at bridge, as well as numerous short stories and essays.

 

His next appearances are at Malice Domestic in Bethesda, MD (May 3-5) and the SC Book Fest in Columbia, SC (May 17-19)

Website: http://jamesmjackson.com

Blog: http://blog.jamesmjackson.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/james.m.jackson.author

Twitter: @JMJAuthor

Go to CFC today

Actually, go visit the Crime Fiction Collective (CFC) blog every day (Monday thru Friday) for interesting discussions on fascinating topics. But today is my every-other-Thursday post, so I'm not here. I'm over there, talking about the new book that will be out Monday and which you can win for freebies. Visit me on Monday, and I'll tell you how.

In the meantime, have a great Thanksgiving, and I'll see you on Monday!

The answer was there all along

I'm really over at Crime Fiction Collective today, but I've had a recent convergence of thoughts that culminated in one big idea, and you know me, I'm a sharer.

When last we met, I was at a loss, wondering what it takes to own your position as an author (without activating everyone else's gag muscle). As I moped around, trying to think of a topic for the CFC, I decided to talk about my muse.

Me and my Frostie at a show in Santa Barbara

Frostie is fifteen now. I've had her since she was three. She has taught me much, but she has revealed more. One trait that I consider my best AND worst (and have given to Peri) is my stubbornness. I never knew how stubborn I was until I bought Frostie and she revealed my flaw/superpower. 

Riding did not come naturally to me, so I had to fight hard to develop my balance. This involved many lessons with my trainer holding the long line while Frostie loped around, with me in the saddle, no stirrups and no reins. I had to learn to relax at the small of my back and let my hips follow my horse, instead of fighting her.

While I learned, I found myself sliding right and left, and flopping forward and back - and frightened to tears the entire time. I kept telling myself that I was a grown woman who was PAYING for the lesson and had the absolute right to stop and get off my horse. But I didn't.

I was too stubborn to quit.

Frostie also taught me confidence. She is a skittish horse, given to spooking at plastic bags, trash cans that have been moved, and ghosts. Apart from the obvious problem when I was in the saddle (see stubbornness, above), it was hard to lead her anywhere without having her startle and jump, usually on me. Learning to keep her attention and calm her down gave me a new level of self-assurance.

It also saved my feet.

The day after I wrote the CFC post about her, I was sitting at the ranch, waiting for a student. I had already gone to Snoopy's stall and petted him, and kissed his nose, and told him about his book. Then I visited Frostie and talked to her about her modeling gig and how pretty the pictures turned out. There was also scratching and smooching. Now I sat and looked out at the arena, to Frostie who was in her stall, looking back at me.

And it dawned on me what a lucky, lucky person I am to have these horses. Me, who loved horses from before the womb, who was denied them until she had decided that dream might not survive, and who was able to dream again thanks to a caring husband. I started crying a little, then, because I felt such intense happiness and blessings.

So now I'm at a loss AND I'm a mess.

But I thought about what Frostie had taught me. Confidence and a stubborn streak. Why am I stressing about being recognized as what I am? I'm an author. If you don't believe me, I won't give up until I change your mind.

And when all else fails, I try to channel this woman:



After all, "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death."

It's CFC Day

It's an alternate Thursday, which means I'm in an alternate universe, known as the Crime Fiction Collective blog. Today, I'm discussing conventions and conferences, their differences and similarities and what to expect from each.

Come on by and visit me there.

P.S. Honk if you get the association with this picture.

Ho-ome-ward bound.

I'm on my way home from San Diego, but you can visit me today on the Crime Fiction Collective blog. It's like I never left!

Hello I must be going.

Okay, you know I can't post that title without giving you this (apologies for all the ads):




On Friday, I head down to Newport Beach to the 10th Annual Southern California Writers Conference, Los Angeles. Wish I could actually get this blog to SAY that in radio announcer's voice. If you haven't been to a working conference, you need to find one and go. If you want to know why, go the the conference website and watch some of the videos on SCWC-TV.

A good conference inspires you, educates you, helps you find your tribe as well as your voice. You come home with itchy fingertips and a brain chock full o' stories. If you live in the southern California area and you're not attending this, I'd say, "neener neener more for me" except I don't believe that. There's plenty of good stuff to go around at these things.

I do wish you'd come. We'd have such a fab time together.

I get home on Sunday, repack my bag, and run down to San Diego for a convention about Special Districts. I need to go learn more about Special Districts because I am a library trustee (at least until the elections in November and then who knows), and our library is a Special District.

Conventions are not like conferences in the least. Conferences are more for a common grouping of people who want to know how to do something better. Conventions can have a wide assortment of types, all looking for information on different things. For example, Bouchercon is a convention for mystery writers AND readers. The readers want to meet their favorite author, find new authors, and talk about books. The writers want to meet their readers and talk about writing books. And maybe have drinks in the bar with Lee Child.

Both are essential.

In between these two, I really SHOULD go to the Sisters in Crime OC meeting on Sunday, especially since I'm the secretary. Tune in later to see how that day worked itself out.

If I've got time today, I'll schedule a few examples of extreme silliness to keep you company while I'm gone. I'm not promising anything, since I also just realized I need to write and schedule a post for next Thursday over at the Crime Fiction Collective.

In the meantime, in honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day, here are five reasons I could never be a pirate:

1. I can't rrroll my Rrrs.
2. My crrrew would get tirrred of my orrrderrring them to "Squab the deck," then laughing maniacally.
3. I have motion sickness and would thrrrow up on the open seas.
4. I rrreally rrrequirrre rrregularrr bathing.
5. I sunburrrn easily.

Still galavanting

I'm not here today, either. I'm over at the Crime Fiction Collective, where I try to say something witty and/or worthwhile every other Thursday. If I keep flitting about like this, I don't know when the dishes will ever get washed, or the dogs walked, or the manuscript edited.

Come visit me at CFC. I'll be back here on Friday.

http://crimefictioncollective.blogspot.com/2012/09/once-more-with-feeling.html

A stranger in a strange land

I'm not here today. I'm over at a new blog I discovered, called Writers Who Kill. They contacted me, after reading my posts at Crime Fiction Collective, and asked me to be their guest. I was, of course, happy to oblige.

They sent me a list of questions, which were interesting and fun. They also made certain my guest post was on a day I'd be available for interacting with readers who left comments. Good idea. If you visit their blogsite, you'll see they're an uber-organized group.

A delightful time was had by all. Come see for yourself.

http://writerswhokill.blogspot.com/2012/09/an-interview-with-gayle-carline.html

A weekend assignment for my Peeps

I'm on the backstretch, so to speak, of finishing the third Peri mystery. The threads I've unraveled and strewn about the first two-thirds of the book are now being gathered and knitted together. This morning I'm going to do a little recon in my neighborhood so I can write the final showdown as realistically as imagination will allow.

Recently, I made a comment on Jenny Hilborne's post in the Crime Fiction Collective about my books having "roots." There's always a core subject from which the plot and subplots grow. In Freezer Burn, it was about having children and being a mother. Peri's investigation leads her to women who have had children out of wedlock, and she thinks she might be pregnant. In Hit or Missus, it's all about friendships and what we're willing to do for people we love, people we are not related to. In both, I tried to lay down the root without bias. You're free to decide for yourself whether you want to have a child, kill for a friend, etc.

This new book will need a little more editing than the first two, not in terms of line-edits, but in content. As I get closer to the finish, I see more clearly what the book's roots are, and I know I will need to go in and strengthen a few of the scenes. I also know not to do this for at least 3-4 weeks. It's weird, but I know from experience that if I go back and edit too soon, the book gets all muddled, kind of like over-mixing the bread batter.

I've got plenty of other projects to distract me, but I'm missing something from the new book that I already had with the first two: a title.

The working title is Burning Mad, but I don't really like it. Your mission, should you accept it, is to suggest some alternatives. Here are the highlights (no, I don't have a blurb or a logline yet):

1. The main plot revolves around Benny Needles' house burning (almost) down. There is, of course, a body discovered. Benny hires Peri to investigate why his house burned, why someone was in his house, and why the insurance company won't pay up and people are suing him for wrongful death.

2. The root of the story is about families and how we survive them. The Debussy family is having problems with their son, Benny is refusing to talk about his dad, Peri is trying to locate her missing brother, and a lot of the main plot is caught up in the families who built the insurance company.

3. I like short, unique titles, preferably with a mischievous play on words. You know me.

I've been playing with words like smoke, fire, burning, insure, indemnity, loss, premium, coverage, family, heir, tree...

Any ideas here? Throw a girl a bone. Please.

Who's thankful?

When I was young, I was destined to be an artist. My mother's side of the family all drew and painted. My mother's brother was a professional artist. He spent a good chunk of his life working at ad agencies and drawing whatever schlock they required, but he also drew and painted and sculpted prolifically, and was finally able to leave the advertising world behind and support his family on his artwork.

Everyone saw my potential. I could make a tree look like a tree! I could draw Fred Flintstone and I was only ten! So even though my favorite thing to do was tell tales (which I did, using my crayons, see the Crime Fiction Collective blog on this subject), I was happy to go down the rainbow-colored road with ma familia.

When you're a kid and your parents and grandparents are all screaming BRAVO every time you pick up a paintbrush, what else is there to do?

After one year as an art major at Millikin University, I discovered two important things:

1. If I really wanted to be an artist, I was going to have to fight my parents' idea of artistic quality in order to forge my own artistic identity and vision.

2. If I didn't get out of my parents' house soon, I would have more in common with Van Gogh when he was going crazy than when he was being a brilliant artiste.

Either way, it was going to be uphill all the way. My discovery led to my decision to marry my boyfriend and "start living my life." It was not a wise decision, but I folded those lessons learned into future choices. We'll leave the discussion of how that worked out for a later time.

I didn't save much of my artwork from my youth. The only thing I have is a rather bizarre painting of a girl in a one-horse open sleigh. I do have one remnant from my year at college: an animation I did for my Winter Break class, a one-month session. In four short weeks, I drew and colored over 1800 pictures, took the stack to my uncle to be shot with his 16-mm camera, then took the film to be processed. Being the Stone Age, the film had a turnaround of five days. This meant I really had three weeks to do everything else.

I remember finishing the camera work at 3:30 in the morning and sleeping until about 4:00 p.m. the next day. My dad was kind enough to take the film in to be developed.

My instructor screened it in my presence. He not only loved it, he pronounced me "twisted." Art professors love twisted students.

For years, the film traveled around with me, spending time with the mayo in my fridge. At some point, I had the contents transferred to videotape. The VHS version also wandered from address to address. Yesterday, it dawned on me that VHS was moving on to greener pastures, so I had Dale transfer it to a DVD, which I then loaded on my computer and fiddled with. It is a completely silent film, so I added some sound effects. They are, admittedly, less than stellar. Perhaps my son could write a soundtrack for it. Just sayin'.

At any rate, for your viewing pleasure, here is the reason we can all be thankful I am not an artist today. (Note: it is also the reason to be thankful I am not an actor.)

As Pooh would say, "Think think think."

I've been thinking about this a lot. I've been threatening it. But now I'm going to do it, Dagnabbit.

There's been a lot of discussion on the Amazon boards about e-books and Indie authors. A lot of people seem to think we all write like we've got boxing gloves on and the I.Q. of a stick. Then there are a group of people who are willing to wade through the Amazonian slush pile to find those rare gems of good books written by good writers. In between those two tribes, is a big fat group of Skeptics.

The Skeptics aren't afraid of Indie authors or their books, with one caveat: a low price means low quality. Where I've been swimming around in the pool of people who think 99 cents is a great price, there is a growing contingent of readers who won't touch a 99 cent book because it's like putting a big GARBAGE HERE stamp on the story.

Personally, I'm not convinced that a low price means low quality. I have a hard time, philosophically, in loading a book onto the internet for an infinite length of time and selling it over and over and over, for more than 99 cents. I mean, it's a marathon, right?

My sales of What Would Erma Do? are pretty brisk. I'd like to say it's because WWED is a good book (which I think it is), but I think the real reason is that it has shown up on the Top 20 of Amazon's Humor for Parenting and Families. When people go looking for humor, it's easier to find.

My sales of my mysteries are a little slower. Okay, a lot slower. I still believe in Hit or Missus (as I do Freezer Burn), but the mystery genre is a large ocean. Even when you narrow it down to Women Sleuths, my books are a small drop in the waters. It's harder to climb up the list, and therefore harder to get discovered, no matter what the price.

So, beginning November 1, I am raising the price of Hit or Missus to $2.99, which is the same price as Freezer Burn. If you want it at the 99 cent price, get it this weekend. As they say, move it or lose it.

I'm keeping my humor books at 99 cents, at least until I'm shown a good reason to raise their prices. If you can think of a good reason for me to hike my humor prices, by all means, let me know.

In the meantime, the mysteries are on the rise.

P.S. Please check out the Crime Fiction Collection blog. It's good. Trust me.

So much time and so few brains

It's a short post today. My mind is all kerfuffled because my new book is finally available for sale on Amazon, in paperback and Kindle. It's another humor collection: two more years of merriment, punctuated by editorial quirks and readers' opinions. It will also be available on Barnes & Noble, on e-reader stores everywhere, and you can order it from any bookstore.

I thought I knew what I was doing with this book, having released two others through Createspace, Kindle Direct, and Smashwords. And yet... once I pressed the magic buttons, I've been obsessed with whether my book is available so I can put a Media Release on the website and talk about it on Facebook and Twitter and yadda yadda, none of which I could do until the book was available for purchase.

I'm also doing a giveaway on Goodreads, which starts on Halloween, if you want to get in on that. I'll be offering autographed copies via Paypal, too, as soon as I get my copies, which should be next week at the latest.

This craziness has made me forget a few things, like posting the essay I had written for the Crime Fiction Collective. Oopsie. LJ Sellers was a doll about it and tossed up a post about what we're all looking forward to reading. Check it out and try to forgive me for being the little eclectic redheaded stepchild. My post will be up on Saturday for your enjoyment.

In the meantime - check out the new book!

I'm the chosen one

The neatest thing happened last week. LJ Sellers, a prolific writer who I got to hang with at Bouchercon two years ago, contacted me. In addition to her own blog, she contributes to the Crime Fiction Collective blog. They need a new contributor, so she asked me!

I'd like to thank the Academy and all the voters for this honor...


Okay, I'm back from my little fantasy moment. Starting today, I'll be blogging every other Thursday at the Crime Fiction Collective, which reminds me of Star Trek and the Borg for some reason. I only wish I looked like Jeri Ryan.

So go on over to the Collective and join the cult.