Writing

Learning Howdunit

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The Rutland Herald has an article today (from the Columbia News Service wire) about how mystery writers use consultants and, as an example, talks about how Dr. Doug Lyle and I work together. But if you’re a DIAGNOSIS MURDER fan, and haven’t read THE SILENT PARTNER yet, skip the article — there are major spoilers in it.

"I know absolutely nothing about medicine," Goldberg said. "But I do
know how to write a mystery. I craft situations where I need a medical
clue, then I call Doug. I simply couldn’t write these without him."

Lyle
is part of a select group of plot consultants who help mystery writers
bump off characters with scientific exactitude. He shows writers how to
poison people properly, open up a skull correctly for an autopsy and
talk like a homicide detective to make the character believable.

The article also appeared in The Toronto Star and the Indianapolis Star, among many other newspapers.

Edgar Winners

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The Edgar winners were announced today.

BEST NOVEL

Citizen Vince by Jess Walter (Regan Books)

BEST FIRST NOVEL BY AN AMERICAN AUTHOR

Officer Down by Theresa Schwegel (St. Martin’s Minotaur)

BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL

Girl in the Glass by Jeffrey Ford (Dark Alley)

BEST FACT CRIME

Rescue Artist: A True Story of Art, Thieves, and the Hunt for a Missing Masterpiece by Edward Dolnick (Harper Collins)

BEST CRITICAL/BIOGRAPHICAL

Girl Sleuth:  Nancy Drew and the Women Who Created Her

by Melanie Rehak (Harcourt)

BEST SHORT STORY

"The Catch" – Greatest Hits by James W. Hall (Carroll & Graf)

BEST CHILDRENS

The Boys of San Joaquin by D. James Smith (Simon & Schuster Children’s Books)

BEST YOUNG ADULT

Last Shot by John Feinstein (Knopf Books for Young Readers)

BEST PLAY

Matter of Intent by Gary Earl Ross (Theater Loft)

BEST TELEVISION EPISODE TELEPLAY

Sea of Souls – "Amulet", Teleplay by Ed Whitmore

BEST MOTION PICTURE SCREENPLAY

Syriana – Screenplay by Stephen Gaghan, based on the book by Robert Baer (Warner Brothers)

John August is my Hero

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Screenwriter John August pleads with writers to take a vow to stop having characters crawl around in air vents.  Why? Because it’s stupid, lazy, unrealistic… AND STUPID.  I’ve even seen people in movies crawl through the airvents in a house.  So I applaud John for waging war against this inane cliche:

Here’s what I’m proposing:  The Screenwriter’s Vow of Air Vent Chastity.

I, John August, hereby swear that I shall never place a
character inside an air duct, ventilation shaft, or any other euphemism
for a building system designed to move air around.

One day, I’d love to win an Oscar. An Emmy. A Tony Award. But if all
I accomplished in my screenwriting life were reducing the number of
times characters climbed through air vents, I’d consider my work
successful.

Schmoozing in the Desert

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P1010180_1 Tonight I went to the author’s reception for the Palm SpringsP1010178  Book Festival, where I will be appearing in front of all my adoring fans (my Mom, a vagrant, my brother Tod). I had a great time catching up with old friends like Carleton Eastlake, Loraine Despres, Christopher Rice, and Gregg Hurwitz (and his lovely wife). And I made some new friends, like Eric Shaw Quinn and retired SEALS Charles O’Connor and Ross Hengebrauch. My daughter Maddie absolutely loves QUEER EYE FOR THE STRAIGHT GUY, so when I spotted Ted Allen, I had to have my picture taken with him. Maddie was blown away. Meanwhile my Mom, Jan Curran, got up close and personal with Tab Hunter. And I’ve got the photos to prove it. P1010179 (First photo is me with Ted Allen, the second photo is my Mom with Tab Hunter, and the third photo is me with Gregg Hurwitz, Eric Shaw Quinn, and Christopher Rice).

Good News For TV Writers

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The California State Supreme Court threw out a lawsuit by a writer’s assistant against the writers  and producers of FRIENDS. The assistant charged that the sexually explicit jokes and anecdotes shared among the writers in the writer’s room created a "hostile work environment." (You can read the full text of the decision here)

Because "Friends" was an "adult-oriented comedy show featuring sexual
themes," Lyle should have expected coarse language from writers producing jokes
and scripts for the show, the Supreme Court held in its ruling.

While the Fair Employment and Housing Act prohibits conduct that creates a
hostile or abusive workplace for women, it does not outlaw "sexually coarse and
vulgar language that merely offends," the high court said.

The case raised questions of how far TV comedy writers can go in pushing the
boundaries of taste in their private joke-writing sessions, with supporters of
the writers and producers arguing that Lyle’s suit infringed on their freedom of
speech.

The high court declined to address the free-speech issues raised in the
case.

"We have no occasion to determine whether liability for such language might
infringe on free speech rights," the court held.

The show’s writers claimed Lyle was fired because she was a slow typist who
often missed the jokes she was supposed to transcribe.

Telling Lies

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Strategicreserve0
Christina York’s latest ALIAS tie-in novel, STRATEGIC RESERVE, just came out and she muses today about the craft of tie-in writing:

Another thing about writing tie-ins.  It takes a lot
of research. You have to get it all right.

[…] But it’s not just the stuff from the
show. It’s all the rest of the world, too. Alias was particularly
challenging, because of the diverse and exotic locations.

In STRATEGIC RESERVE, a good portion of the book was set above the
Arctic Circle, along the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. I have never been about
the Arctic Circle, but I know if I messed anything up, I will hear
about it from a reader or three. So I spent a lot of time looking at
photos on line, studying maps, and reading accounts of people who have
been there.

[…] Writers tell lies for a living. But we try to layer in enough truth
that you believe everything we tell you.

Story Bullshit

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Screenwriter Josh Friedman blogs about the time he was offered the chance by a good friend to write the screenplay for a "go" movie for an International Star.

All I had to do was meet the star, hear
the movie he wanted to make, and nod my head. The job was mine. That
was it. […]

After some small talk, I settled in to hear the movie. What happened
next was forty-five of the most entertaining and annoying minutes I
have ever spent in the film business. International Star stood across
from me and proceeded to act the movie out, giving me examples of
action scenes, stunts, sight gags, etc. He never stopped moving for the
better part of an hour.

And here’s what he kept saying the entire time:

INTERNATIONAL
STAR: So…we have a bar scene first. Maybe…a bar fight? Six men
against me…I’ll balance on a chair like this…take out all six…do
my funny International Star thing…maybe drink their drinks…then we
have some story bullshit…After that…I rescue this girl from…the
whorehouse? Maybe bandits…I’ll do my funny International Star
thing…like with this chair here…Then some story bullshit…and I
find this other girl tied up…there’s a chair gag…then some story
bullshit…

Here’s the conversation I have in the car with my friend afterwards.

FRIEND: So…you’re in, right? It’s fucking awesome, right?
ME: You’ve gotta be kidding me.
FRIEND: What?
ME: Story bullshit? STORY BULLSHIT? My part in all this is…story bullshit?
FRIEND: Oh don’t be so senstiive. That’s just International Star. He’s…international.
ME: He refers to my job as bullshit.
FRIEND: Which is exactly why I need you. You’ll make it better than bullshit.
ME: No way. Not doing it.
FRIEND: You HAVE TO.
ME: I don’t, actually.
FRIEND: I already told him you would.
ME: What!
FRIEND: I told him you’d do it. I told him you were perfect. He’ll take it as a personal affront.
ME: I don’t care.
FRIEND: I stuck my neck out for you. You can’t fuck me like this.
ME: I’m afraid I am fucking you like this.

And so I did.

Two weeks later I got this phone call from my friend:

FRIEND: So. I just wanted to give you an update on the International Star thing.
ME: Look, I’m sorry if I made you look bad–
FRIEND: Don’t worry. I fixed it. We hired someone else.
ME: Good. That’s great. How did you–?
FRIEND:
I told him that I had second thoughts about you. That after thinking
about it I decided you weren’t a good enough writer for the project.
ME: Wow. You’re fucking good.
FRIEND: Aren’t I?

His latest blog post, in late March, refers to his then-upcoming surgery for cancer.  It got him pondering some other "story bullshit" — what his eulogy might be:

I’ve spent the last twenty-five years composing my own eulogy. I’ve
never written it down, never even started it. But I’ve written it a
thousand times in my head. Ever since I was young I’ve been obsessed
with all aspects of my funeral. Who would speak, Who would be
there…What they would say…Where it would be held, what kind of
music would I choose…What kind of food would be served at the
afterparty…I’m an incredibly arrogant sonuvabitch, and it probably
won’t surprise you to know my funeral’s a pretty tough ticket it’s so
fucking crowded with mourners.

I’ve brought myself to tears
dozens of times with this masturbatory/fetishistic reimagining of my
final words washing out over the assembled masses. Sometimes funny,
chiding yet touching, my eulogy at all times insightful and peaceful
and reassuring to the thousands who have gathered to mark the passing
of one of the great unheard voices of a generation.

Words.

My ultimate words.

At the end of the day, why do we write? We write to remember, we write
to be remembered, we write to discover who we are, or determine it for
others. Our words will always outlive us, immortalizing us if not
always powerful enough to make us immortal. Although if we choose our
words well, there will always be a way back to life, a way to and fro
through time. Someone will always feel us like it was yesterday,
someone will smell our skin again, if we choose our words well.

If we choose our words well there need not always be a last. If we choose our words well there will always be a way to find us.

I have chosen my words. They are:

There are motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane.

I don’t know Josh, but I hope his surgery went well and I wish him the very best.

A Cautionary Tale

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The LA Times reported today about the tragic downfall of screenwriter Eric Monte… a story that could serve as a cautionary tale for both TV writers and vanity press authors. The once high-flying comedy writer, who had a tumultuous relationship with the Industry even during his heyday, is now living in a homeless shelter. Two big lessons from the article — stay away from crack cocaine and don’t flush your money down the vanity press toilet:

A year of crack cocaine abuse robbed him of money,
dignity and a circle of Hollywood friends. Attempts to sell a
self-published book drained the last of his savings.[…]

With $10,000 from a "Good Times" movie option, Monte self-published a book, "Blueprint for Peace." In it he wrote that peace could be achieved if humanity followed seven basic principles: merge all  nations into one, stop manufacturing weapons of war, adopt one  universal language, eliminate money as the medium of exchange, abandon  the concept of land ownership, abandon the concept of inheritance, and  control population growth. Monte rented a booth at last April’s Los Angeles Times Book Festival,  but he failed to sell a single copy of his book.

"I just have to figure out how to market it," he says. "I know that as  soon as it starts selling, it will sell for 1,000 years."

Temptation

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This is a long post… so feel free to scroll past if you don’t have time to kill.  This week, I ran smack into an ethical dilemma and it was all thanks to this short email from a complete stranger:

Charles Willeford’s GRIMHAVEN. Looks like you expressed interest in it in a blog  a couple of years ago. Still interested?

Yes, I replied, of course I was interested. GRIMHAVEN is Willeford’s unpublished Hoke Mosely novel, his dark and self-destructive follow-up to MIAMI BLUES, his break-out hit. GRIMHAVEN  reportedly turned Hoke into a sociopath who murders his children. Willeford’s agent wisely counseled him that it would be career suicide to submit that book to his publisher and that, instead, he should bury it and write something that would capitalize on the success of MIAMI BLUES, rather than piss all over it. Willeford took the advice and wrote three more great Hoke novels before his death. But like all Willeford fans, I’ve been intensely curious about the book. The few people I know who’ve read it say it’s Willeford at his best and worst.

So hell yes, I want to read it.

A day or two later, I got another  email from the stranger. This time the note was longer, chatty, friendly, and full of tantalizing comments about the book ("it’s a viscerally sickening read, alright (I’ve got two girls), even if it has a certain internal consistency and simplicity"). 
He went on to talk about how he bought a xeroxed copy of the manuscript some years ago from a "bootlegger" for a mere $20 and that he came across  "some asshole" selling the same photocopy for $200 on the Internet. 

But I figure that it’s something the world should have, so I scanned and OCRed it, and after being distracted from it for about six months I’m finishing up the proofreading.  Right now I’ve got 200 tiffs and 200 individual-page text files, and once the proofing is done I’ll concatenate it into a single text file.  So the question is this:  What’s the best way to get it out to the people who want to find it?  Is there a torrent tracker favoured by traffickers of bootleg manuscripts?

Yes, I wanted to read GRIMHAVEN…but the idea that someone would take an unpublished manuscript that didn’t belong to him and distribute it all over the planet made me queasy…as did the idea that he thought that I would help him do it.

But why shouldn’t he think so? After all, didn’t I jump out of my seat when he offered me the book? Didn’t that make me just the kind of guy he thought I was? While I was wrestling with these uncomfortable questions, another email showed up from him:

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