Casino Royale…Again

I took my wife to see CASINO ROYALE today and I liked it a lot better than I did the first time. I have no idea why…perhaps it had something to do with the audience, which was a lot more enthusiastic and reactive than the audience I saw it with before.

UPDATE: My friend Javi rates the Bonds. I don’t necessarily agree with his line-up, but I love his commentary.

18. a view to a kill – everyone in this film looks like they are a hundred and thirty seven years old and dying of rickets.

My ranking? My favorite Bonds are Sean Connery, Daniel Craig, Pierce Brosnan, Timothy Dalton, George Lazenby and Roger Moore (though Roger had his moments). But my ranking of portrayals doesn’t match how I would order the films. Each has its unique pleasures. It would probably go something like this:

1. Goldfinger

2. From Russia, With Love

3. You Only Live Twice

4. Casino Royale

5. Tomorrow Never Dies

6.  Dr. No

7. The Spy Who Loved Me

8. The Living Daylights

9. Never Say Never Again

10. Thunderball

11. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service

12.  Goldeneye

13.  Diamonds Are Forever

14.  Die Another Day

15.  For Your Eyes Only

16.  The World is Not Enough

17. Live and Let Die

18. License to Kill

19. Octopussy

20. Man with the Golden Gun

21. Moonraker

22. A View to a Kill

Control vs. Kaos

Espionage writer Raelynn Hillhouse and her intelligence sources are marveling at the ineptitude of the spies who murdered former KGB agent Alexander Litvinenko.

A
few days ago an expert in the field called the spies’ tradecraft "really amateur hour."   With recent the recent developments, she wrote me back, "This has gone well past the Austin Powers level to Get Smart.   And when they finally trace it back to the FSB First Chief Directorate’s offices, it will be a cinch for the Inspector Clouseau Award."

There must be easier… and certainly more subtle…ways to kill a man than irradiating half of London and two British Airways jets.

Dark Times for Screenwriters?

Paul Guyot pointed me to Nikki Finke’s column in the LA Weekly. She says that it’s bleak for feature film  screenwriters these days:

“These jobs,” said the admittedly depressed literary agent, “just
disappeared.” A manager joins the pity party and describes a litany of
givebacks by his scribbling clients: free treatments, free rewrites,
free polishes and/or free script-doctoring — all done with the hollow
hope that the studio will give these schmucks with Underwoods a paying
gig sooner rather than never. As for those sparse scribes offered real
pay for projects, they’re buckling under studio demands by cutting
their usual and customary by 30 percent. “It’s the bewildering nature
of the business right now that nobody has a quote. It’s a quote-free
system,” an agent describes.

In a word, it stinks out there for
screenwriters, worse even than the fetid stench of the usual shit flung
at them in previous years. These aren’t wannabes, either. These are
some of the top names in the biz. “I am fucking terrified,” a major
scribe tells me about his year of not getting any work. “I can’t
believe my career is ending like this.”

It’s no wonder so many of them are running to television and narrowing the opportunities even further for TV scribes…

You are Art

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You saw it on THE VIEW…now you can own one, too. I’m talking about my sisters Linda Woods and Karen Dinino’s hot-selling I AM ART t-shirts. The shirts are doing so well that now my sisters have expanded the line to other kinds of clothes and accessories. Check it out at their store.

The Peddler Is Being Peddled

Take
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My friend Richard Prather sent me a signed copy of his book THE PEDDLER today. It’s so nice to see this "lost" classic it back-in-print again in a Hard Case Crime edition with a  stunning new Robert McGinnis cover. Prather and McGinnis have reunited after a long and rewarding partnership-of-sorts on Prather’s wildly successful Shell Scott detective novels in the 1960s (over 90 million copies sold!). Those books were Prather and McGinnis at the top of their form…and so is THE PEDDLER. I only meant to glance at Richard’s kind inscription but I was pulled into the prose and before I knew it, I found myself reading nearly the entire book again. It’s a dark, gritty, utterly compelling read…and is nothing like the funny, sexist, and gleefully entertaining detective romps that Prather is best known for. Kudos to Hard Case for making this great book available to readers again!

Who Do You Know

I got this email today from a reader of my MONK books.  I’ve changed the names, but otherwise I haven’t edited it:

I can’t help but recognize your name. Of course Goldberg is rather common in L.A.  Do you recognize the last name of Sandstrom?  Howard or Betty or Steve?  They lived on Sherbourne in B.H. Then, after Papa Bob died Grandma moved to a "blue" apartment at (I think Rodeo and Olympic), after that on Palm Drive near "little" Santa Monica and Doheny.  Steve was my father.  Grandma also mentioned a Joe Swanson and Mike Berger several times.  I brought lox and bagels to Esther Berger (his mom) when she was in a nursing  home in Reseda, but never had any reason to meet Mike.  Grandma was just getting up in years and I lived in the Valley at the time.  I am estranged from my used-to-be immediate family so when a name rings a bell I so try to connect.  I know so little about my father.  I have no idea how well Mike knew him. 

I wrote back and said that I don’t know any Sandstroms…or any of the other people she’s talking about even though I, like them, am one of the millions who live in Southern California.

The Desperate and the Impatient

All aspiring writers are desperate to get into print. That’s a given. I certainly was, but that was before the advent of  POD vanity presses, which prey on the "I-want-it-now" impatience that afflicts so many aspiring writers these days. These aspiring writers just don’t want to invest the time and effort that’s a necessary part of shaping their voice, their skills and their careers. Bestselling Tess Gerritsen writes about that today:

What makes a new writer today think he should be immune to that
desperation I felt?  What makes him think this is SUPPOSED to be easy?
What makes him think his very first book is going to get published — or
deserves to get published?

I’ve lost count of how many crappy novels I wrote before I got my break. Tess wrote three unpublished books before she finally sold her fourth. And she knows another writer who wrote seven books before finally selling her eighth.

Think of her desperation, her
hunger, to be published.  It had to be there, driving her, or she would
have just given up.  But she just kept going and wrote manuscript #8. And it sold. Think about that — writing seven books that don’t sell.  Would you
have the persistence to start writing #8?  Do you accept the fact that,
yes, there’s an apprenticeship involved in being a writer, a period of
training that you will be forced to undergo before you finally
understand what the craft is all about?

No, it isn’t easy to get accepted by a publisher, and get paid for
your work.  It’s a lot easier to whip out the checkbook and pay a
vanity press to print your manuscript.

That’s the real danger posed by these vanity presses — besides the emptying of a gullible writer’s bank account. The self-publishing companies are also robbing the writer of the experience that’s required to become a successful writer (and part of that is learning to deal with, and learn from, rejection).  Too many aspiring writers fall for what appears to be  "the easy way" — when, in fact, it’s not — rather than
accept the fact that their books are unpublishable and that they have a lot more work to do on their writing.  They don’t want to work. They want a book now. Or at least the illusion of one. But it’s a career-sabotaging move…not to mention stupid and expensive.

And if you can just pay to get published, where’s the incentive to hone
your craft, to study your own work with a critical eye, to polish and
polish some more?  Where’s the incentive to write books number seven
and eight and nine if each one is just going to mean you have to whip
out that old checkbook again to pay to see yourself in print?

There isn’t any. Sure, there are a handful of people who have found a measure of success self-publishing, but for the vast majority it is a financial sink-hole and a self-destructive mistake.

UPDATE 11-26-2006: Author Mat Johnson blogs about how the lure of vanity presses is ruining African-American fiction.

If I had hit my wall just three, or even two years later, all of those
self-publishing options would have been available to me. As desperate
as I was, I don’t know if I would have said no to the idea. I don’t
think I would have known to. At the time I was working on that book, I
actually considered it good enough to be published. I might have jumped
at any opportunity not to take "No" for an answer.

[…]I saw a generation of black writers fall into this
trap, authors that could have been original voices that added to the
canon, who instead became literary canon fodder. They went pop, blew
up, and then almost instantly started vanishing, their worth dwindling
with their sales.

Sadly, instead of working actively on getting better, many of this crew instead try to falsely justify the merit of their work.

It’s a Wrap

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Maddie and I went to the Monk Wrap party last week. Of course, all thePb170040_1
pictures that Monk creator Andy Breckman took of me with Tony Shalhoub didn’t turn out. Pb170041
But here are a few that did…that’s me with Andy Breckman, Jason Gray Stanford and my daughter with Stanley Kamel. (Click on the pictures for larger images)