Anthony Neil Smith: 2012

SOME COOL SHIT I SAW IN THE BLACK HILLS*

(* and the Badlands, too)

Ah, Sweet Octavia, Please Enjoy Your Hibernation

So if you were keeping track of my ridiculous plans:

1) I said I would commit to writing a second Octavia Vanderplaats novel (after Choke on Your Lies) when we hit 1500 sales. But that started to take a long time.

2) So I finally said "If I hit that 1500 mark by mid-May, I'll do it."

3) Also, if not, well, maybe later.

4) That was fair, right? I set a number that I thought was doable in order for me to feel there was reason enough to invest the time and effort. Not too bad, eh?

5) Even giving myself an extra week due to my vacation, we still came up short. 18 copies short. 

6) Thus, while I am still interested in writing the next installment of what I hope will become a much-loved series of crime novels, I'm afraid it's not an immediate priority. So, how/when will it get done? I can see two possibilities:

• When I damn well feel like it after a few other novels, or
• If a publisher I respect comes forward and offers me a contract to write a couple more.

Like that's going to happen, right? 

Anyway, to all of those who love Octavia as much as I do, all I can say (in the most Octavia-like way possible) is that it's all your fault for not getting enough people to go out and bring her home. You bastards.

Onward...

TWO REASONS I HAVEN'T BLOGGED IN A WHILE

1) I'm busy.

2) Who cares?

So I Won a Spinetingler. Time for that bottle of Cupcake Merlot.

I know, I know, I bitched because they overlooked Plots with Guns for Best Zine (congrats to the Factory, by the way), and I also thought I 100% ZERO chance of winning the thing (did you see the other nominees?), but I somehow managed to pull out a victory in the Rising Star category for All the Young Warriors. 

I. Am. Humbled. 

Thanks so much to Spinetingler and to all of the people out there who voted for the book. You've done made a grouchy, bitter writer a tad bit happier this afternoon (as an impending thunderstorm threatening tornadoes bears down on us).

Just in case a tree takes out my house, please go BUY LOTS OF THE DAMNED THING!

Some thoughts on Octavia versus the 1500

> I'm selling a shitload of e-books. Very happy with the numbers, especially for Billy Lafitte and All the Young Warriors. Yes indeed.

> My first e-original, published way back in January 2011, was Choke on Your Lies, introducing the fat, rich, and mean Octavia VanderPlatts. She is pretty offensive to a lot of people, and that made her instantly beloved by many, many readers. So I put forward a simple idea--when I sell 1500 copies of Choke, I'll commit to writing a second book in the series. That seemed to get some folks excited.

Seemed to, I said.

> I don't know why, but a number of the other ebooks have either gone well past 1500 sales much more quickly, or are approaching it much faster than Choke has. I thought 1500 was in sight for April. Alas, we didn't get close enough.

> Granted, Octavia is an acquired taste, as is our trustworthy (ha) narrator Mick Thooft. The filth in which Octavia and Mick revel can be a turn-off to some. Some readers have said that it's hard to like any of the characters in Choke on Your Lies. I agree. But that's what I like about it. In fact, I've been told that not liking Octavia is the very reason her fans love her. They wish they could throw off the weights of decency and say whatever the fuck they feel like, all the time.

So, okay, fair to say she's a cult classic.

> As a novelist, I've got to decide which projects would be the best ones to spend (or waste, if you prefer) my time on for the coming months, possibly up to a year or more. I just finished the third Lafitte novel, for instance, and the fourth will take some time to cook in my head before I start jamming out the manuscript. I've got this cool Dead Man novella gig first, and then I'm getting back on track with my follow-up to All the Young Warriors, which is underway, but which took a backseat for the past few months until I got done with Lafitte. And I just recently figured out how to combine two projects that both had my attention for a long time but which were not working individually, but together as one novel they come alive. I'm excited to get on that one.

Notice that an Octavia novel is not on that list. 

I've actually started outlining it. I want to call it Swallow Your Sins. I think it will explore this little band of outsiders in more depth, making you love/loathe them with even greater fervor.

But when will I write it? Well, that's up the readers. As much as I would like to see Octavia go on with a series of other books, I'm also willing to lock her away in the pages of Choke on Your Lies if I can't hit that elusive 1500 mark by mid-May. Does that mean that all possibilities for further Octavia novels will be null and void? No, I wouldn't say that. But it would certainly mean that it might be quite a while before you see any more of her. It would mean that I'd have a lot of other stuff to take priority of my writing time. It would mean, you see...it would mean that she didn't quite catch on like I had hoped. 

>I've been reading a lot of interesting crime series lately, and it's always been my hope to find a detective or cop character around which I could build such a series. I mean, I'm talking about James Lee Burke, Philip Kerr, Martin Limon, Jo Nesbo, Denise Mina, Martin Cruz Smith, Micahel Dibdin, Vachss, John Burdett, and on and on. Fantastic stuff. I just admire the hell out of the work they're doing. Smart writers, smart books, full realized worlds, all that. 

I'd like to do that one day. But I haven't found the right character. I think I'm close, but, we'll see. Let's face it--Lafitte won't make it too much farther, and he's not really a detective. He fucked up. I do think Mustafa, from All the Young Warriors, is the strongest contender. And maybe Octavia, too, to fill the Nero Wolfe-sized hole in my soul.

But you can't win 'em all. 

I can't have umpteen fucking series books going. But I do like the damn things. 

>Here's the deal: If I hit 1500 sales (not giveaways) before May 15, I can promise you I'll have a new full-length Octavia novel, most likely Swallow Your Sins, ready for you all in January 2013.  If not, well, I'll take my damned sweet time about it, then, won't I, and who knows if it'll ever show up?

Is that a threat? You're goddamned right it is.

on Readings....

I've decided (or actually, I've known for a long time and I'm just now saying) that I don't like being read to. I like watching a good performance, yes, but not too many writers pull that off, and instead they just end up reading to me. I hate books-on-tape (CD?) for the same reason. But at least there's an off button for those. At a reading, no chance.

If I'm at a reading, then I'd like to see multiple people read for maybe five to ten minutes each, tops. They'd better make me laugh, too. I can even take a good poet for half an hour if he or she is reading a bunch of stuff. But I really have a hard time listening to prose for that long. 

And believe me, I'm guilty, too. I've chosen stuff to read--stories, chapters--that felt wrong almost as soon as I got started. Just...no. Too wordy, too long, too dull. And sometimes I'll pick a decent story, but then I bungle it by not bringing the performance. Oops.

It's a weird thing, the literary reading. Weird.

Got to bring the performance, folks. Give the sort of reading you'd love to see! Be unforgettable! Don't just read to people and expect that to be enough. 

"Well, I've never been to Somalia, but I've been to Minnesota..." & Other Stuff

> Ripping off the famous Three Dog Night tune to say this.

The first B'con panel I was ever on was about short story writing. I was a nobody, and the thing was chaired by Ed Hoch, who was a big shot who had a story in every issue of Ellery Queen for, like, 40 years or something. Not my sort of thing. 

Anyway, one of his questions was about setting, and I went on about how I just write about the places I've lived (at that point, just Mississippi) because I need to know the psychology of the place to really write it well. And Ed went on to say that he once wrote a story about Hong Kong from a guidebook, having never been there, and he still somehow made people who had been to HK think he had. And he was, like, super proud of that.

I was thinking What an idiot. Why bother? What was the point, right? 

Fast-forward to 2009, when I heard about the "lost boys"--young Somali men from Minneapolis being recruited to go back to Somalia and fight for the terrorists, without anyone knowing until they were gone--and I thought it would be a great story to have a Somali man and a small town white cop investigate the disappearance of two of these guys, thus unraveling a big Minneapolis scandal, etc. I wrote up a short synop and shipped it to my then agent (now publisher) Allan Guthrie. And the first thing he said? "Not good enough. You've got to show us Somalia."

Well, shit. I mean, for all of the great stuff about the Somali culture and people I've learned about from being in Minnesota--where lots of Somalis have moved to form a really large community in the Twin Cities, and even in smaller towns like mine--the country of Somalia itself was a hell hole. I mean, crazy war with these terrorists just killing people left and right, destroying as much of the country as they could, leveling Mogadishu, beheadings, machetes, riots, and on and on. It was a disaster. And if you could survive that to make it to a boat, let's say, then you might end up highjacked by Somali pirates. So like I said--great people and fascinating culture, but the homeland was a bit...oh...unfriendly at that time.

Anyway, Guthrie wanted me to try it, so I dove into research, biting back the apology I owed Ed Hoch, and tried to figure out what made Somalia tick.

In the end, I don't know if I got it right in All the Young Warriors, but I think I could imagine a day there, based on what I saw and read and listened to. And it was important to see it through another outsider's eyes. Even though Adem was a Somali-American, he was still seeing this land for the first time after eighteen years in America. He was having a similar culture-shock to the one I might have had if I'd gone (at least I hoped it felt that way). Crossing my fingers. And if someone reads the book and thinks, "Nope. He's way off," then I just mark it up to creative license and point out that in a similar way, Hollywood has gotten Mississippi wrong for years. I mean, nearly everyone down there has air conditioning, but if you watched a movie about the South, you'd think we sit around with wimpy ceiling fans and sweating ourselves silly.

Eh.

Since I'm writing another book about Mustafa and Adem, there's more research out there for me to do. Maybe I'll keep coming closer and closer with every book, then finally make a trip over there only to find out I was way, way off. Until then, thanks, YouTube, for all the help.

And considering the Lafitte novel I just finished, let me say this: "Well, I've never been to prison, but I've watched a lot of TV..."

> And onward...

> I've been really getting into a lot of historical crime novels lately, and quite a few about World War Two and its aftermath (including Child 44 and its sequels), especially set in Germany. I don't know, but the Bernie Gunther books reeled me in, and they've led me to The Killing of Emma Gross, which I've been telling everyone about a lot, and now HHhH, which is heading my way in the mail. I've started watching Foyle's War, too, and I really like it, even though it is--so far--a very quiet show with a quiet lead detective. But maybe it's just this whole mood of mine, being into detective series set in far away places and long ago times, because I've also really gotten into Martin Limon's series about two G.I. cops in Korea during the 70's. Way cool.

I admire these writers because I'm sure it takes a lot of time to do the research into the time period and create a unique world within it, especially when we're dealing with major historical events. I mean, I keep thinking of writing a book set out here in the Minnesota plains in the early 80's, and that's tough enough to fathom, but the 30's? 40's? Kudos, dudes.

> So this week is the last week of the semester (before exam week). And that will conclude my current term as the Director of Creative Writing at Southwest Minnesota State University (check out our cool program). Why? Because I went and got myself elected Chair of the whole English Department. I'm looking forward to the challenges and new duties involved, but for the next couple of months between offices, I plan to be FULL-TIME PULP WRITER MAN! That is, when I'm not wandering around the Midwest. But hey, I've got a Dead Man to write!

THE RANDOM STUFF

> Goddamn, I want to finish this Lafitte book and revise it and cry because it's too loopy to be any good.

> Then I want to get back to my second book featuring Mustafa and Adem, because it, too, just goes BOOM and CRANK and ZAP!

> I want to do a class on James Lee Burke.

> Is it possible that I can admire both Amazon's publishing arm (which is smart) and Melville House's international crime line (and also this book about pencils) even though the head guy at Melville House just out and out does NOT like Amazon at all? I've decided that yes, yes it is possible, and I'm doing just that.

> "I want aaaaaction tonight."

> Watching Deadliest Catch and 16 and Pregnant back to back is some sort of cultural whiplash...or is it?

> I wish I knew how to get in touch with the photographer for this pic, because I would totally try to use this as a book cover if so. Especially Lafitte #3.

Get on with it!

YOU ALL NEED TO SHUT UP AND PAY ATTENTION TO LAURA BENEDICT NOW

I'm handing off the blog to one of my favorites today. Laura Benedict is about to start talking, people, so pay attention or get out. Oh, and the doors are locked, so you can't get out.

In Defense of My Hillbilly Life

Back when we lived on my husband’s family’s dairy farm in West Virginia, his former prep school roommate wanted to bring his wife down from New Jersey for a visit. We’d already been up to Saddle River and stayed at her parents’ palatial home. (In fact, we’re pretty sure our daughter was conceived in their Jungle Room suite, though not on the zebra rug, darn it.) But for some reason, the wife was reluctant to return the visit. It took her husband weeks to convince her. Why? (It had nothing to do with the Jungle Room, I promise.) She was afraid to come to West Virginia because she feared she might be attacked and/or shot by random hillbillies. Seriously.

Even though I was offended, I knew where she was coming from. People fear things they don’t understand.

My writing territory clusters around an interstate, weirdly enough--the stretch of 1-64 that runs from St. Louis to deep in Virginia. I’ve lived in the cities and suburbs of Cincinnati, St. Louis, and Louisville, Kentucky. Also in the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. But because Virginia and West Virginia came in the second half of my life, I grew up with a lot of peculiar ideas about, you know, mountain people.

When I was a kid and my dad told me we were moving from Ohio to Louisville, Kentucky, I was worried I would have to stop wearing shoes. Hey, I was only seven years old, and all I knew about Kentucky was horses and The Beverly Hillbillies. (I know. They were from Tennessee, but it was all the same to me and a million other kids.) But it was Louisville, for pity’s sake, and there isn’t a holler for a hundred miles around.

From Louisville, my folks decided we should explore my dad’s eastern Kentucky roots, so off we went to find Arjay, Kentucky, where my Grandpa Philpot was born. And we absolutely had to have a pic taken at the post office that bore the family name. (I’m the one in the stylish navy blue knee socks.) We didn’t find any Philpots there in 1972. I don’t even think we stayed overnight in the neighborhood. My mom, who is not a big fan of country life, was surely eager to return to civilization.

Years later, when I was working for The Ginormous Beer Company in St. Louis, I somehow managed to get them to pay for me to go to a writing workshop in Hindman, Kentucky. Still curious about my mountain roots, I thought, Why the hell not? It was there I met the love of my life, Pinckney Benedict, who was from West Virginia (he was also the headliner at the workshop!).

I got a lot of crap from people in St. Louis about moving to the mountains. The rudest of those comments came from a shiny, obnoxious co-worker who, in later years, was the perfect model for one of my shiniest, most obnoxious characters. “I give you a year, there,” she said. “You’ll be back.” I think that was the moment I started to get protective of my future neighbors. Very protective.

Sure, there are undereducated, lazy, culturally ignorant, racist, and/or violent people who live in the region. But show me a region of the country--the world--where there are not.

When I write, I try to be sensitive to stereotypes. I don’t always succeed. I’ve been guilty of the Irish priest and the shrewd, miserly German. I was mortified when I first listened to the audio version of my first novel, ISABELLA MOON, which takes place in central Kentucky. One thing that omnipresent television has done is smoothed out southern accents. Heavy accents are the exception, particularly in the deep south. Kentucky accents are fairly mild--and that’s how I heard them in my head as I wrote. (I was encouraged to lose my own when I moved to St. Louis to finish college and went to work at a radio station. I miss it sometimes as though it were a lost limb.) On the audio, the sheriff’s accent is so exaggerated that it sounds like English isn’t his first language. Worse, the voice of my cultured black schoolteacher, Lillian Caley, has broad,1930s Mammy overtones. I still read complaints about it in reviews. (Note to self: exercise approval clause in audio contracts or voice the books myself--sans accents.)

Here’s some of what I know about Appalachia, and mountain folk, in general:

Not everyone there spends their time struggling for survival against raging, misogynistic drug lords, having babies with their first cousins, or practicing target shooting on their neighbor’s cat. In fact, it’s a very small percentage of folks that lives on society’s edges.  It’s no different in Philadelphia, upstate New York, downtown San Francisco, or the suburbs of St. Louis.

Not everyone goes to church, or even believes in any sort of god. They belong to Rotary Club and take yoga classes at the community center. They get their cars stolen and their houses broken into. They do amateur theatre, and have favorite coffee houses. Many people are college educated. They work in hospitals and lawyers’ offices. They go to casinos and on vacations to the beach. Or Branson, Missouri. They drive a long way to buy fashionable clothes or to see new films. They read books. Sometimes they go hunting and fishing, and a very few of them poach wildlife. Resources and entertainment are often limited by geography, but pretty much everyone has a satellite dish or cable, if they want it. It’s contemporary culture in miniature, but it is life and culture still.

You won’t necessarily get that picture from fiction. A lot of regional work is crime fiction--and the criminal element is rarely pretty. (Crime is pretty on television’s Law and Order, though, where the criminals live in penthouses and Virginia is where bad people get their guns. I just had to get that in.) Get a broad view: Read Chris Offutt, Ann Pancake, Tom Franklin, and Pinckney Benedict, but also read Lee Smith, Sharyn McCrumb, Ron Rash, and Denise Giardina.

It’s not hard not to be condescending or patronizing to entire cultural groups. As a writer, I think it’s the better choice. It’s better for the story, and it’s better for the reader. Call me on it if you catch me at it, please.

Let’s all live in peace and harmony, okay? (Cue the Kumbaya drums…) If you come to visit me in Southern Illinois, the frequent gunfire you hear is only the neighboring meth dealers, and they’re very, very careful about keeping their ammunition out of other people’s yards. I’m pretty sure one of their kids goes to my son’s tiny private school. And they have a helluva satellite system set up and keep their driveway nicely paved. Who knows? They may even cook at the Rotary Club pancake breakfast. You just never know.

...

Laura’s latest novel is DEVIL’S OVEN, an Appalachian Gothic thriller. She’s also the author of the dark suspense novels ISABELLA MOON and CALLING MR. LONELY HEARTS. She has also edited the Surreal South: an Anthology of Short Fiction series with her husband, Pinckney Benedict. Her work has appeared in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Thrillers: 100 Must-Reads, Noir at the Bar, and a number of other anthologies. She lives in the southernmost wilds of a midwestern state, where she is surrounded by coyotes, bobcats, and many other less picturesque predators.

You can visit her website at www.laurabenedict.com

Her Twitter handle is @laurabenedict

 

To All American Publishers re: Roger Smith

Hey, all American publishers: one of you needs to publish Roger Smith again. Anyone who doesn't is, like, stupid.

 

author photo by Dieter Losskarn