The Mail I Get

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I got this very odd email today  (I've edited out  his publisher and the title of his book):

This is not a fan letter but just let me say that my folks and I loved Martial Law (my mother was amazed at how agile a fat guy couls be) and Sliders especiallly the episode where Rhys-Davis hunted down babies to kiss in his campaign for public office.

Anyway, a new ebook imprint, XYZ, published a pdf ebook sf/f/h poetry collection by me, XYZ. The poems are comments on the body of work by sf/f/h authors and other creators in the three fields. I hope you consider ordering one.

This is strange but as I am writing this letter an idea for a series idea popped into my head. Before I write it down I would like your permission before I pitch it to you.

I'm not quite sure what to make of this one. At least he was pleasant, polite, and asked me if I was interested in his pitch before he sent it to me. But still...what was he thinking? Did he really believe I'd reply "Oh yes, that book sounds fantastic. I love poetry about sf authors. I'm ordering a dozen copies of your PDF for myself and my family. And please send me any TV series ideas that occur to you. I would love to hear them." I'm simply astonished by how clueless some people are. 

But I didn't say any of that in my response to him. I saved that for you. Instead, I congratulated him on his book, told him I wasn't interested in his series ideas, and wished him the best in all his endeavors.

This is Scary Stuff

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What could be scarier for Halloween than Sammy Davis Jr. singing the theme from the MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW? Love is all around, baby.

If that hasn't curdled your blood, listen to Sammy sing the theme from HAWAII FIVE-O.

Craptastic!

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A craptastic classic!  Sammy Davis Jr. sings the theme from KOJAK. Who loves ya, baby?

And as if that wasn't craptastic enough, here's Sammy singing the theme from the soap opera spoof MARY HARTMAN, MARY HARTMAN!

The Writer is God

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The Guardian reports that the only way to raise the quality of UK television series is to adopt the showrunner/writing room system prevalent in the U.S. They write, in part:

The only way to produce sophisticated, rich, long-running drama like The Wire or even ER is to use a team of writers who collaborate under a showrunner, a system the US studios has cracked. It's too much for even one great dramatist to write the whole thing, but you can't hire hack writers to work on episodes in isolation. Result: US viewers sit down to an evening of Damages; we get Casualty

The short Guardian piece was in response to a terrific essay by Peter Jukes in Prospect Magazine, where he wrote, in part:

in US television drama “the writer is God.” This is not because of literary cachet—it’s arisen out of aesthetic, technical and commercial need. Drama is incredibly expensive to make and economies of scale kick in when stories are told over 13 or 24 episodes. They cannot be written by one person alone, nor can they be effectively controlled by studio executives, actors or directors, whose talents by definition lie elsewhere. It requires a team of writers willing to develop character and narrative over a long haul, keeping it focused and fresh. It’s not the writer, singular, who is God in US television drama, but the role of the writer, generic, in the process.

 […]Although we are blessed with a tradition of great television dramatists, there’s no way that Alan Bleasdale, Dennis Potter or Jimmy McGovern could have written a dozen episodes of a show alone. We have recently imported the idea of showrunners for the resurrection of Dr Who and Survivors, but their power is limited, and the principle of collaboration doesn’t penetrate the lower echelons. Script editors and producers take a dim view of you talking to another writer without tight supervision. There is no financial incentive either. Why make someone else’s episode great when it might make yours look less good? Given that the running order can be changed at the last moment by management fiat, those collectively crafted character developments and story arcs will be binned anyway. Just write your own episode and cash that cheque.

I recommend Jukes' article, it's fascinating reading.

Editorial Guidance

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My Uncle Burl Barer is an Edgar-award-winning author of a dozen books but that doesn't make the job of writing any easier…in fact, he's having some trouble with is current project.

There is something not right about my current book in progress, and it is driving me crazy. […] So far, at the request of my editor, I've done a complete restructuring of the book, and still it doesn't "sing."
Tomorrow I'm calling "headquarters" – the executive editor — and consulting on what I need to do to make this baby at least hum.

Thankfully, Burl has something most self-published authors do not… an experienced editor provided by the publisher at no charge to him.

Editors are the inspired clergy of the literature religion. They comfort, admonish and encourage. They bring out the diamond potential in our prolix lumps of coal. I am blessed with the editors at Kensington Publishing, headed by the resilient and insightful Michaela Hamilton. Mike Shol is currently editing the manuscript of Fatal Beauty, and it is all coming together. Whew. I pity authors who don't have the blessing of a world-class editor. I've been very lucky. My first book, THE SAINT: A Complete History was edited by Steve Wilson at McFarland & Co. I doubt I would have snagged the Edgar were it not for his guidance. One of the tragedies of self-published (ie self-printed) books is often the lack of editorial guidance, not to mention the lack of sales.

Sadly, many "self-published" authors have gone the vanity press route because they believe their work is perfect "as-is" and reject any suggestion that their book may be flawed in some way (which is one reason why the self-publishing companies are known as "vanity presses"). These aspiring authors don't recognize the importance of editing and rewriting, of having an experienced, and objective, outside perspective on their work. All they are interested in is seeing their book "in print" as quickly as possible without having to "jump through all those hoops" or letting anyone meddle with their "artistic vision." And that's why so much of what is self-published out there is unreadable slop.

What is it… Really?

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TV writer & blogger Will Dixon has taken some points I raised on how mysteries are constructedand expanded on them as they apply to sf, horror and fantasy shows . He wrote, in part:

when it comes to constructing the plot for good genre mysteries (like X Files; Buffy; Angel; Firefly…and today you've got Supernatural; Smallville; Warehouse 13; Sanctuary; even Chuck, etc.), there is one question always be asked: 

What is it…what is it really. 

 (In the case of procedurals and investigative mystery programs like 'Veronica Mars' or 'Castle' or 'Bones', the mantra becomes: Who is it...who is it really.)

[…]Of course, this is just one aspect to telling a good mystery story. To take it to the next level, you also need to pick an overall theme to flesh out the episode.

Dixon offers some examples from Buffy The Vampire Slayer to back up his points. His observations are well worth reading.

The Mail I Get

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I got an email today on Facebook from  somebody I don't know (I "friend" everybody except scammers and phone sex operators) from a writer's organization that I've never heard of. It read:

I've heard good things about you for awhile.

Maybe it's good timing that you just added me as an FB buddy.

Our scheduled speaker for November 14th just had kidney failure — and I'd be your new BFF if you could jump in and man the guns for that Saturday at about 6:30 PM.

I hope you can help a local boy out, here. ;-))

I replied:

I appreciate the invitation but I'm going to have to pass.

Here's what he wrote back:

I'm sorry and a bit surprised.
Good luck in all you do. Keep me apprised of your successes.

Maybe I'm just tired, or in a bad mood, but I have to admit, his reply really ticked me off.  He's  "a bit surprised?" What the hell is that supposed to mean? So here's what I wrote to him:

Why are you "a bit surprised?"

I guess that you assumed that I'm always available for any group that asks me to speak, any time, any where.

Or perhaps it didn't occur to you that I might have other obligations on Nov. 14…or that I might be on tight deadlines to deliver a script and a book by the end of November….or that I have spent too many Saturdays away from my family lately…or that I might have any number of other reasons for having to pass on being your speaker.

Or perhaps you simply assumed I'd drop everything for you and were "a bit surprised" when I didn't.

I don't know your reasons. But I was "a bit surprised" by your comment.

He got back to me a short time later.

Wow, I'm not sure what invoked that?!
"Surprised" that you were not succinct but curt – and that you weren't open to some amicable dialogue. "Surprised" because I'd heard good things about you….

What was he expecting? A tearful apology instead of a polite rejection? A detailed explanation and a plea for forgiveness? Or perhaps he was hoping I'd promise to speak to his group at my earliest convenience? Then again, maybe he would have settled for lunch and a dedication in my next book. 

From now on, maybe if I can't say yes to a request from a stranger, I just won't respond at all.

The Mail I Get

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I got an email on Facebook from a somebody I don’t know (I friend everybody except scammers and phone sex operators) at a writer’s organization I’ve never heard of the other day. It read:

I’ve heard good things about you for awhile.

Maybe it’s good timing that you just added me as an FB buddy.

Our scheduled speaker for November 14th just had kidney failure — and I’d be your new BFF if you could jump in and man the guns for that Saturday at about 6:30 PM.

I hope you can help a local boy out, here. ;-))

I replied that I appreciated the invitation, but that I would have to pass. Here’s what he wrote back:

I’m sorry and a bit surprised.
Good luck in all you do. Keep me apprised of your successes.

Maybe I’m just tired, or in a bad mood, but I have to admit, his reply really ticked me off.  He’s  “a bit surprised?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why should he be “a bit surprised” that I’m not at his beck-and-call? So here is what I wrote him:

Why are you “a bit surprised?”

I guess that you assumed that I’m always available for any group that asks me to speak, any time, any where.

Or perhaps it didn’t occur to you that I might have other obligations on Nov. 14…or that I might be on tight deadlines to deliver a script and a book by the end of November….or that I have spent too many Saturdays away from my family lately…or that I might have any number of other reasons for having to pass on being your speaker.

Or perhaps you simply assumed I’d drop everything for you and were “a bit surprised” when I didn’t.

I don’t know your reasons. But I was “a bit surprised” by your comment.

I Was The Author Who Was There

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Today I was a guest speaker at a gathering of 250 members of the American Association of University Women in Ventura. As always happens at these events, I had some bizarre encounters. 

There was another author who'd cancelled his appearance at the last minute because of a death in the family. During the morning signing, a woman came up to me and asked:

"Are you the author who isn't here?"

"No," I said, "I'm here."

"That's good," she said and walked away. 

I thought of a couple of better answers to her question after she left. I should have said "Yes, I am the author who isn't here"  just to see what she would have said next. Or I could have said "No, I'm just a hologram." I wonder if she would have touched me to see if I was real.

Another woman came up to me and asked me to sign a book to her. 

"Make it to Katie," she said. 

 "Why does your nametag say Phyllis?" I asked, just to be saying something.

"Because the woman didn't show up and I swiped her tag." 

 "Why didn't you use your own?" 

 "I'm crashing the party," she whispered and winked at me.

A better man than me would have turned her in but she bought a book, so I wasn't going to rat her out.

During my presentation, I mentioned my encounter with the woman who asked if me I was there. It got a big laugh. At the signing that followed, that woman came up to me and she wasn't happy.

"You humiliated me," she said.

"I didn't point you out or even look at you," I said. The truth was, I'd forgotten what she looked like so I couldn't have pointed her out even if I wanted to. "Nobody knew it was you."

"I knew I was me," she said. 

"That's always good," I said.

"I made an honest mistake before," she said. "You could have been him."

I still have no idea what she meant, but she bought a book. I withstood the urge to sign it in the other person's name. After her, another woman came up to me and told me how much she enjoyed my talk.

"I wish I'd gone to high school with you," she said.

"Why is that?"

"So I could have made love to you and married you," she said.

Okay, that totally threw me. I had no idea what to say. I just sort of stammered, signed her book, and she walked away. She was followed by a woman who had a burning question about Monk

"Is Monk ever going to get any?"

"You mean have sex?"

"Yes," she said. She'd actually asked me the same question during the question-and-answer session but I guess my answer didn't satisfy her.

"Well, the show is over, so no, I don't think so."

"What about in your books?"

I shook my head. "I just don't see it."

"I do," she said. "Vividly."

"You do?"

"I can tell you exactly how it would go."

"With whom?"

"Anybody," she said. "I could send you the scene and you can use it with any woman you want."

I politely passed on the offer.

I don't know what drugs the Four Point Sheraton was putting in the drinks, I'm just glad they didn't put any in mine.