The Short Of It

The Great Blog Story Event

2005-06-14T20:59:00.000-06:00

OK. Here's a list of the sites where you can find the stories in the Second Great Blog Story Event. The names are in no particular order (actually they are in the order Quertermous listed them in an email, so blame him), so start at the top, or bottom, or middle, and read them all. Have fun!

Bryon Quertermous-
Dave White-
Dave Zeltserman-
Ray Banks-
Duane Swierczynski-
David J Montgomery-
John Rickards-
Bill Crider-
Gwenda Bond-
Scott Neumyer-
Paul Guyot-
Stuart MacBride-
Gerald So-
Sarah Weinman-
Christin Kuretich-
Bob Mueller-
Megan Powell-
Pat Lambe-
Steven Torres-
Graham Powell-
Jennifer Jordan-
Jon Jordan-
Aldo Calcagno-
Rochelle Krich-
Alina Adams-

Familiars

2005-06-14T20:47:00.000-06:00

FAMILIARS
By
Robert W. Tinsley

Three men had been killed over the last two weeks. The young Kikuyu man standing in front of Inspector Thomas Donnegan's desk at the British East Africa Police headquarters in Nairobi was afraid he was going to be next.

"You are a man," said Inspector Donnegan in KiSwahili gesturing to the young warrior's shield and spear. "Why don't you protect yourself?"

All this was being translated for me by Suleiman, Inspector Donnegan's askari corporal, as I had not been in the country long enough to become familiar with the lingua franca of this part of Africa.

Suleiman, a member of the WaSwahili tribe, stood as tall as I, and was splendidly turned out in the red fez, blue shirt and khaki shorts of his office. Many of the askaris I had seen thus far had been rather slovenly in their dress, but King Edward himself could have found no fault with Suleiman.

"If it were a man I had to fight," said the Kikuyu whose name was Lanana, "I would do so and win. But these are not the deeds of a man. This is the work of a witch."

"What?" I said, unable to keep quiet in the face of this nonsense. "Is this man serious? Witchcraft?"

Inspector Donnegan fixed me with a look that made me wish I hadn't spoken. "Quite serious," he said. "Don't forget, you are no longer strolling the Thames embankment. To these people witchcraft is as real as London fog is to you. I've seen men and women in the prime of life curl up and die because some witch put a curse on them. Now, be quiet, and let's see what else we can learn."

"Why do you believe this to be witchcraft?" asked the Inspector switching back to KiSwahili.

"The men disappeared at night without a sound. On those nights that a man disappeared, we heard hyenas outside the village. We found each man the next morning just outside the boma, half eaten by hyenas."

"You must hear hyenas around your village quite often," said Inspector Donnegan.

"N'dio, Bwana," said the young man. "That is so. Fisi often comes to our village, but always in packs. Those nights there were only two. That is not the way of fisi. These are the warriors of a witch."

After a few more questions and a promise to follow the man back to his village, a two-day walk apparently, Inspector Donnegan had Suleiman show the young Kikuyu out.

I could not hold my tongue any longer. "Surely you don't credit that nonsense."

Inspector Donnegan leaned back in his chair and regarded me over his tented fingers. "Do I appear, in any way, to be an idiot? If so, please tell me."

My heart jumped into my throat. I was certainly making a dog's dinner out of this session. Here I was, fresh from England, and already well on my way to confirming my immediate superior's apparently low opinion of me. My father always said that my tendency to speak without appropriate thought beforehand would be my downfall.

"Er, no sir. Not at all, sir. I was merely trying to ascertain why, in the face of such arrant absurdity, you would agree to investigate these so-called crimes. Likely these unfortunate fellows simply chose the wrong time and place to answer the call of nature."

Inspector Donnegan rose from his chair and stalked around his desk to stand in front of me so closely that I could count the number of threads in the weave of his shirt. I am not a short man by any means, standing a full six feet without my shoes, but Inspector Donnegan topped me by half a head. I could feel his breath ruffling my eyebrows, a nice accompaniment to the butterflies in my stomach.

"The natives in these parts often leave their dead outside the village to be eaten by hyenas, and hyenas, being opportunists of the first water, will eat murdered corpses with as much gusto as a corpse that died of natural causes. Thus hyena attacks are often used as cover for more nefarious deeds.

"I seem to remember," continued Donnegan, "that the alleged purpose of your posting here, boyo, was that I might train you to become a useful member of His Majesty's British East Africa Police. Does my understanding of your orders coincide with yours?"

I realized that sometime between when the Inspector rose from his desk and now I had come to full military attention. I couldn't for the life of me remember having done so. "Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir."

"Good. Then perhaps you will be so good as to remove your sorry carcass from my sight."

"Yes, sir." I executed a smart about-turn and marched toward the door.

"One other thing," said Donnegan. "Be certain to retire early tonight. We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow. I don't want you collapsing of exhaustion along the way. Should you do so, I'll leave you for the lions. Now, be off with you."

I went.

* * *

I am not a morning person, thus my anxiety over sleeping late overcame my anxiety over being left for the lions, and I got almost no sleep at all. I arrived at headquarters a full half hour before the inspector. This allowed me to watch the preparations for our safari, that being the KiSwahili word for journey.

Suleiman and three of his askaris arrived about the same time I did, each carrying his service rifle, a Martini-Henry .500-.450 single-shot.

The porters arrived next, five WaSwahili clad in the ubiquitous kanzu, a white cotton garment similar to a nightshirt. They were carrying packs that would have driven me to the ground after five steps. These packs contained all we would need on our safari, tents, camp beds and chairs, cooking utensils, non-perishable foods such as rice, grain and biltong, a spicy dried meat that is a positive danger to the integrity of one's dental work. In addition each porter carried a jerry can of water as our trip would send us to the northwest, away from the rivers and streams that surround Nairobi on every other side.

Just as false dawn began to lighten the Eastern sky Inspector Donnegan came striding up to BEAP headquarters. A small Swahili man with a perpetual grin followed him. This worthy, as Suleiman informed me, was the Inspector's gun bearer and cook who went by the name of Tasty.

The Inspector walked right up and ran a dubious eye over me from sun helmet to boots. I had checked myself four times in the mirror before leaving my quarters and knew I was as well turned out as anyone in the country. Why, then, did I begin wondering if I had left some important piece of clothing undone?

"Didn't anyone tell you," said the Inspector, "that in this country starch in one's clothing is not a good idea?"

"No, sir," I said.

The ends of the Inspector's mouth turned up in what I suspect was a smile. I was more than half amazed that the lower portion of his face didn't crack and fall off.

"Never mind," said the Inspector. "Occupational hazard of the new boy, I suppose. Come along then."

With that Donnegan turned and strode off through the dirt of Government Street, puffs of dust exploding into the first golden rays of the sun at every step. Tasty, carrying the Inspector's service rifle paced him at his right elbow. I followed, carrying my own rifle, with the others stringing along behind.

We were just out of site of the town when we came upon a curious figure standing beside our line of march. From a distance he looked like an enormous stork, standing on his left leg with his right foot resting on his left knee.

This extraordinary figure became even more so as we approached. Drawing even with the stork-man the Inspector stopped. They greeted each other with some familiarity.

Their greeting allowed me to examine this curious creature. The man was as much taller than the Inspector as the Inspector was of me. He was lean and well muscled. I could tell due to the fact that his only clothing was a red bolt of cloth draped under his left arm and knotted above his right shoulder. His hair was plaited into narrow rows and plastered against his skull with red clay. He carried a spear almost eight feet long, just under half of which was a head of narrow double-edged steel that flashed in the sun like a diamond, so well polished was it. In addition he carried a long knife or short sword hung on a cord draped around his neck.

"This is Uliagurma," said the Inspector, "though I call him Deadly. He is Maasai and will serve as our guide."

"Why do you call him Deadly?" I asked.

The Inspector fixed me with his gimlet eye and replied. "Because he is."

We then resumed our trek with Deadly in the van. I had, of course, read of the Maasai, an exceedingly warlike tribe until just recently, though they are still not a people to take lightly. To become a moran or warrior, the only males eligible to marry and own cattle, a man has to kill a lion single handed with nothing more than his spear and shield. Yes, I should think twice about giving such a man offense.

Throughout the day we were never out of sight of one great herd or another. The sheer number and variety of wildlife here is incredible. We saw wildebeest, hartebeest, impala, Grant’s and Thompson’s gazelles and eland. We even saw a pride of nine lions gathered about a kill they had made last night. The male was a huge specimen with a bushy black mane. We passed them at a distance of no more than two hundred yards. I must admit my heart was in my throat the entire time, expecting a charge at any minute. The lions merely watched us until we were out of sight. No one else in our little caravan gave them more than a passing glance.

We made camp about an hour before sunset. As soon as the tents were up, Tasty began preparing dinner. This was to be my first taste of impala as the Inspector had shot one just before we reached our campsite.

This deed elicited some excitement among our askaris and porters as fresh meat is apparently a treat for them. So much so in fact that during the butchering each of them could not resist slicing off a bloody handful of the flesh and eating it then and there without benefit of cooking.

After witnessing that I wasn't sure I was going to have much of an appetite for dinner. However the aromas wafting over from Tasty's cooking fire soon had my stomach growling like a hungry lion. I discovered that Tasty had been well named.

After dinner I settled into one of the folding camp chairs before the fire. The Inspector ducked into his tent and emerged with a bottle of Bushmill’s Irish whiskey and two glasses.

"Would you care to join me in a wee dram?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, Inspector."

It was full dark now and the moon was not yet up. We sipped our whiskey in silence. Then there came a sudden cacophony that could have originated in Bedlam itself. Such a concatenation of snorts, hoots, giggles, guffaws, and shrieks I had never heard before. It made the hair on the back of my neck rise and chills run down my spine.

"It sounds as though the hyenas have had a good hunt tonight," said the Inspector.

"Hunt?" I asked. "I thought the hyena was a cowardly scavenger."

The Inspector grunted in amusement while splashing another "wee dram" of whiskey into his glass and then mine. "Don't believe everything you read, boyo, especially about Africa." He paused for a moment listening to the calls of the hyena pack. "If you were to come upon a ten-pound note lying on the ground, would you pass it by?"

"Certainly not."

"A rotting corpse is no different to a hyena than a ten-pound note is to you. It's a meal she didn't have to work for. The fact that they scavenge doesn't mean they are averse to working for their tucker. Hyenas are quite skillful hunters. And brave as well. It is quite common for a pack of hyenas to drive a pride of lions away from their kill."

I sipped from my glass. "I had no idea."

"Most people don't. And, by the way, boyo, has anyone told you about puff adders?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“One of the deadliest vipers in Africa, so I shouldn't move just now if I were you." The Inspector pointed, moving nothing more than his index finger, at the ground by my right side.

I looked down and my heart fairly stopped in my chest. There on the ground illuminated in the flickering firelight was the largest snake I had ever seen. The details seared themselves into my mind. The snake was a yellowish color, not much different from the dust along the game paths we had been following all day, and as thick as my forearm. It's head swung back and forth, it's tongue questing out.

The glass was quivering in my hand as though I had the palsy. "What should I do?" I croaked. Just then Deadly's spear flashed out of nowhere and pierced the snake's head, pinning it to the ground.

"What you should do, boyo, is finish what's in your glass, then let me pour you another," said the Inspector without any sign of quaver in his voice.

It was advice that I followed with some haste.

Deadly retrieved his spear with the snake still dangling from its point. He flipped the spear with a short twist of his hands, flinging the snake's corpse out into the night, then returned to his fellows without a word.

"My God," I said. "Does this happen often?"

"Not much more than once or twice a trip," said the Inspector, grinning. "You're lucky Deadly hates snakes rather than simply fearing them as do most natives. Our other lads over there, fatalists all, wouldn’t have stirred a stump, letting the gods decide what would happen."

The Inspector stood and stretched. "Well, you should finish your drink and get to bed. Breakfast is before dawn. We'll be moving at first light."

With that pronouncement he ducked into his tent. It wasn't five minutes before the sound of snoring reached my ears. I, meanwhile, with the adrenaline still rushing through my veins, was wondering if I would ever sleep again.

* * *

We resumed our march as soon as the sun lightened the eastern sky enough for us to see our path. We traveled on through the heat of the day and finally reached the village about mid-afternoon. There must have been close to a hundred thatched huts surrounded by a fence of cut thorn trees called a boma.

Most Europeans have no concept of what an African thorn tree is really like. The thorns of holly and roses are children's playthings next to this beastly bush. The thorns themselves are three to four inches long and sharp as a seamstress' needle. The branches grow in such a manner that the thorns often interlock.

Natives cut branches from these trees and pile them in a fence around their villages to keep out wild animals. During the day one or two openings are left to allow comings and goings. At night these openings are closed with more thorn tree branches. It forms a very formidable barrier.

We left our porters and two of the askaris to set up our camp outside of the village while Inspector Donnegan and I, accompanied by Deadly, Suleiman and the remaining askari, a fellow named Jomo, paid a visit to the village chief.

We found that worthy seated on the ground in front of his hut. An older man, his hair was sprinkled with white. Four mature women, presumably his wives, and numerous children ranging in age from infants to late adolescence wandered about engaging in either work or play.

Inspector Donnegan asked Chege, which was the old man's name, about Lanana.

"That one has gone on," said Chege in KiSwahili.

"Where has he gone?" I asked after Suleiman translated for me.

The Inspector spared me a withering glare before returning to his conversation with the chief.

"This means that the man is dead," said Suleiman.

"When did this happen?" asked the Inspector in KiSwahili.

"Last night. Hyenas took him. His hut was empty this morning. We searched for him and found him there." Chege pointed off to the North.

"Where is his body now?" asked the Inspector.

Chege merely pointed in the same direction as before. Apparently the old chief was going to let the hyenas and jackals finish what they started.

"Hyenas have been bad around here. Isn't this the fourth young warrior your village has lost to them?"

The old man shrugged. "It happens," he said.

"How can the man be so uncaring?" I said.

Donnegan glared at me. "Be quiet and listen," he said.

"Since we are here, Chief, perhaps we will kill these hyenas for you. There are only two after all."

The chief shrugged again. "There are two, and you may try to kill them if you wish. But I think you will not succeed."

"Why not?"

"These two are not just hyenas. They are devils, witches' warriors. They cannot be killed."

After Suleiman told me this, I was about to let my mouth run again, but the Inspector anticipated me and raised his hand for silence.

"I wish to see the body," said the inspector.

"My son will show you," said Chege indicating a boy no older than 12 or 13.

The Inspector turned to us. "You and Jomo will come along," he said to me. "Suleiman, you and Deadly will stay here and see what you can find out." With that he gestured to the boy and we followed him out through the gap in the boma.

We found the scene of carnage no more than a 20-minute walk from the village. On coming upon this horrible sight my gorge rose immediately, and it was only by quick action that I did not vomit on my own shoes. I was quite mortified, but the Inspector didn't seem to notice.

Parts of the man's body were scattered everywhere. There was little flesh left, and many of the bones had been chewed and broken in the hyenas' powerful jaws. The head had been completely detached from the spine. It stood upright, and the profile toward me looked untouched. It was only as I moved around that the rest of the horror was revealed. The hyenas had eaten away all of the flesh on one side of the head.

I glanced over at the boy. He was gazing at the scene with an aplomb that I could only envy. "Should the boy be seeing this?" I asked.

"I'm sure he's seen worse," said the Inspector. "You must remember that Africans do not have the reverence for life that is found in the London drawing rooms you so recently left behind. Life here is ugly, bloody and short. These people have learned to deal with that in their own way."

The Inspector surveyed the scene once more, and then dismissed the boy. "It's time we returned to camp. I'm sure Suleiman and Deadly have news. Africans will talk to other Africans before they'll talk to a white man."

* * *

"There is a very pretty girl in the village coming of age to marry very soon," said Suleiman. "There are many suitors. The old men say one of the young warriors hired a witch to eliminate the competition."

"Do they know who the witch is?" I asked.

"They know," said Suleiman, "but they will not say. They are not civilized like we are. They are afraid."

"What about the man that hired the witch?" said Donnegan.

Suleiman shrugged. "Each one we talked to believed it was someone different."

"You're not giving any credence to this witchcraft nonsense, are you, sir?" I asked.

"As I said before, hyena attacks are often cover ups for wicked deeds. But since any evidence we might have had has been eaten, all we can do is sort out these rogue hyenas."

Accordingly we ate our dinner and made preparations to return to the kill site. Our party consisted of the Inspector and myself, Deadly, Suleiman and Jomo.

We arrived an hour after a spectacular blood-red sunset and spread out in a line 30 yards downwind from the site. The Inspector had brought a large electric torch that he set on the ground close to hand.

We waited in silence for over two hours before hearing the giggles and whoops that heralded the approach of our quarry. Standing, we checked our weapons by feel, as the moon had not yet risen.

I couldn't see my hand before my face. My heart was thumping so loudly I feared the hyenas would hear me and take flight.

Finally I could hear the sound of bones breaking, and I knew the brutes had resumed their grizzly meal.

"Be ready," whispered the Inspector.

I raised my rifle and pointed it in the direction of the feeding sounds even though I could not see my front sight.

The Inspector flipped the torch on, revealing the dreadful scene before us. Both of the huge brutes lay on the ground gnawing bones that not 24 hours before supported a living man as he went about his business. At that point events stopped progressing as expected.

Normally when one shines a sudden light on an animal at night, that animal will freeze for several seconds allowing the hunter to fire a telling shot. Not so these devilish beasts.

As soon as the light hit them, they were up and charging us in that half-crippled gait of theirs. As odd as it looked, their progress was remarkably quick.

After a moment of stunned inaction, we all fired. The ground erupted all around the charging brutes, but not one bullet struck home. As the Inspector and I were the only ones armed with repeating firearms, it was up to us to stop them. By the time we were ready to fire again, the beasts were only 15 yards from us. I seemed to be unable to take a breath, and it was becoming imperative that I do so.

The Inspector and I fired almost as one. The Inspector’s quarry stopped as though it had run into a wall and fell over quivering. My target merely ducked its head and continued on undeterred. I began to believe I would never take another breath except to scream when Deadly’s spear saved my life a second time within as many days.

I finished jacking a fresh round up the spout and discovered that I could breathe again.

“Close thing, that,” said the Inspector.

“Asante, Deadly,” I said to the red-painted giant. He nodded his head with all the presence of royalty.

Examining the dead beasts we discovered that they were both females, the larger of the two sexes. My hyena, or rather Deadly’s, had a bloody crease down the top of its head bisecting the distance between its ears. That must have been my bullet causing the brute to duck its head. I had overshot though I had been sighting at the base of the hyena’s neck. I checked my rifle and discovered that my 200-yard rear sight was up. No wonder I had overshot.

The Inspector noticed me changing the sight. “In future,” he said, “I suggest that you use the long distance sight for long distances.”

Since that statement required no response, I resumed examining the dead hyena. Deadly’s spear had severed the hyena’s spinal cord. As I was looking at the wound I noticed a flash of reflected light amongst the stiff bristles of hair along the beast’s withers. Looking closer I found four glass beads woven into the animal’s coat, red, blue, yellow and red again.

I drew the Inspector’s attention to this, and we examined the other hyena. The same types of glass beads in the same sequence were woven into this beast’s hair as well.
“How in the world could that have happened?” I asked.

At just that time an apparition appeared from the dark to the considerable consternation of our little party. The apparition resolved itself into a wizened old black man naked except for a tiny loincloth. His body was painted all over with white spots. He immediately launched into a long tirade in KiSwahili.

He and the Inspector went back and forth for some time. At the first appearance of this man all our civilized natives faded into the dark, so I had lost the translation services normally provided by Suleiman.

After a lengthy discussion in which voices were raised on both sides, it seemed that negotiations were finally concluded. From his dejected mien it appeared that the old man came out the worse for it.

“Corporal,” called the Inspector.

Suleiman materialized out of the dark with Jomo at his side. “Sah!”

“Corporal, accompany this man back to the village and cut out ten head of his best cattle. We will be taking them back to Nairobi with us. The money from the auction will serve to pay his fine.”

“Sah,” barked Suleiman saluting. He and Jomo gathered up the little man and disappeared into the darkness.

“Sir,” I said. “If you don’t mind me asking, what the devil was that all about?”

“That man is the witch that started this whole donnybrook.”

“A witch? Him?”

“Indeed,” said the Inspector. “He saw us kill the hyenas, and came in here demanding payment for the loss of his property. I asked him if he could prove they were his. He said, of course he could prove it and proceeded to describe the beads woven into their coats. For a moment, I was at a loss over what to do. I couldn’t arrest him for murder, no evidence, and I certainly couldn’t arrest him for practicing witchcraft. I realized, however, that I could punish him financially, so I fined him 10 head of cattle and told him that the next time the fine would be double.”

“You fined him? For what?”

“Keeping vicious animals.”

THE END

Money, Money, Money

2005-05-21T10:23:00.000-06:00

I’m baaaack! I’ve taken a couple of weeks off from writing virtually anything outside of the day job, so I’m feeling up to posting something here. I was going to review a story, but yesterday I ran across a couple of things that took precedence, at least in my mind.

You are all familiar with how excited I am about the potential of audio on the web. I’ve even reviewed a couple of podcasts called “Earthcore” and “The Seanachai,” both excellent continuing podcasts. Now there is “Escape Pod.” This is an ezine that publishes an audio file of one short story a week, generally coming out sometime on Thursday. This was their second week in operation.

The publisher bills Escape Pod as “The world’s first science fiction podcast magazine.” There is another first for Escape Pod: they pay $20 per story. You submit a text file of your story according to their guidelines, and if they accept it, they record the story and publish the audio file on their site for free download. They prefer previously published stories (cuts down on the selection/editing timeline) but will accept original manuscripts. Science fiction manuscripts.

I listened to the first story they published called “Imperial” by Jonathan Sullivan. While the story itself wasn’t bad (it had a very nice science-fictioney twist), it could have profited from some judicious cuts. The production values were pretty good. There were some nice intro and outro sweepers, and the reader was pretty smooth though I think he could use a little work on his female voices. He could also use one of those mesh disks that they put in front of mics to keep the plosives from blowing out the listener’s eardrums.

All in all, this is a pretty exciting site for audio fans. If they can keep it up. My first question was, “If they don’t charge for the stories, where does the money come from to pay the writers?” Some time ago I discussed the three current models for bringing in money from a website: subscriptions, advertising and begging (also called the PBS model). Escape Pod is following the PBS model by soliciting donations through a PayPal button on the site. They faithfully promise that all the money they collect will go toward paying the writers. Way to go, guys! This is a ground-breaking site. They have a few things they need to work on, but I really hope they make it. We’ll have to wait and see how it evolves.

Part of the issue of Escape Pod’s survival will be promotion, another frequently heard rant on this site. The podcasting community does this much better than do the text sites. There are four sites on the internet frequented by virtually every podcast fan out there: iPodder, Podcast Alley, Podcasting News, and Podcast Pickle. When someone starts a new podcast, they submit their information to these sites, which then adds them to a master list and assigns them to a category. You can go to one of these sites and check out the newest additions in all the categories, or a specific category. That’s how I found Escape Pod.

In addition, Podcast Alley, Podcasting News and Podcast Pickle rate the popularity of each podcast by listener vote. Most podcasts will have a vote button for one or more of these sites on their home page. These votes get sent back to the appropriate compendium site and tallied. Each of these compendium sites produces a list of the most popular podcasts and posts that list in a prominent place. This, of course, increases the traffic to those sites. Naturally there are quibbles and complaints about how the votes are tallied and whether some votes are qualified and the like, but the compendium sites are trying to address those issues. But whatever way they go, these compendium sites are promoting podcasts to the listeners, a very valuable service with, as near as I can tell, no cost to the podcast producer.

A short note to those who still have doubts about the power of audio on the net. I mentioned Earthcore above. This is a book by Scott Sigler. Earthcore was on track to be published by AOL/Time-Warner. During the internal upheavals a couple of years ago, the publication of the book was canceled. Scott was unable to find any other interested takers, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He started recording the book himself and is currently issuing it as a series of podcasts, one or two chapters released each week. He was hoping to attract enough listeners to show publishers that he could deliver enough of an audience to make his book viable. Currently Earthcore is rated #6 on Podcast Alley and #5 on Podcast Pickle. Scott is seeing 5,000 to 6,000 downloads of each of his podcasts every week. In addition he has gotten a lot of press, both print and internet. So I’d say Scott did the right thing.

The second thing I saw this week was a couple of new services (oriented toward podcasting, but I don’t see any reason why they couldn’t be adapted for text) that could make the subscription business model pay off for small publishers. I’ll talk about that next time.

Times, They Are A Changing

2005-05-08T11:11:00.000-06:00

I am no longer going to post daily reviews.

There. In good journalistic fashion I have placed the most important sentence in the story at the top. Now for the explanation.

There are two major reasons for this. The first is burnout, I guess. When I first started this reviewing gig it was fun. I enjoyed dissecting the stories and discovering why I enjoyed them and, especially, why I didn’t. I thought that it might give me more insight into my own writing. More on that later.

Since December 3, 2004, I have written over 140 postings, the vast majority of which are reviews. Lately writing reviews has seemed more like work than play, more so this last week than ever. I kept thinking, “Just get through this week, then think it over.” Finally, as Candace noted, I couldn’t even get through the week.

Also lately I’ve felt that my reviews haven’t been quite up to snuff, at least in my own eyes. I think I’ve overdone it, and I need to recharge my batteries.

The second reason for this course of action is the fact that my fiction writing has practically halted during this time. More than one person whose opinion I respect has told me that they believe my fiction writing has suffered because of the blog. My aim is to become a well-known writer of fiction, not a well-known critic. I have to recognize my priorities.

In the year prior to starting “the short of it” I finished twelve short stories. Since December of last year I have finished one, “Moby Dick In A Can.” A pretty good one, if I do say so myself, but still. As I mentioned above, one of the reasons I started reviewing was to strengthen my own writing. Since I haven’t written much of anything other than reviews I can’t say if that goal has been achieved.

I do know that when I go back and read my published stories I cringe. I do know that I have been trying to revise one of the stories I wrote last year for three months without feeling that it’s yet good enough to submit. I’ve about come to the conclusion that it’s time to let it go and let the cards fall where they may. I’ve got to give my internal critic a good kick in the ass and tell him to lighten up. I don’t think I can do that while writing daily reviews.

Reading for reviews takes more time and intellectual effort than simply reading for pleasure. Often I will read a story two or three times, think about it for a while, then write the review. When I’m done, I’m tired. It’s time to get back to reading for pleasure for a while.

This doesn’t mean that I’m not going to do any more reviews, but I’m only going to review stories that I think are particularly good or exceptionally bad. That means that the appearance of those reviews will be erratic, on no particular schedule.

I also intend to do the occasional author interview, the operative word being “occasional”. I wanted to do more of those before now, but it seemed that the pressure (completely self-imposed, I now realize) to churn out the reviews kept me from taking the time to do the proper research I felt needed to be done before I contacted the author.

I’m also hoping that this lack of pressure will allow me to post more of my musings on the short story form. But again, on a very occasional basis.

I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, all the people who have been regular, or even erratic, readers of this blog. You have made it a success beyond my wildest dreams. Thank you all, more than I can say.

I would appreciate it if you would keep my RSS feed in your aggregator so that you don’t miss the times when I post in the future. I promise to try to make it worth your while.

In short, this blog is not going away, it’s just going to get more irregular. Thanks again.

Blood Ties by Tim Wohlforth

2005-05-05T06:31:00.000-06:00

“Blood Ties” by Tim Wohlforth, Mysterical-e, March 2005

Ah, motherhood! Loving, nurturing, caring mother. A perfect story to read just before Mother’s Day. Or it would be if the mother involved had any of the characteristics listed above.

Our Hero (hereinafter designated OH), an unnamed PI, goes into his favorite watering hole and is told his mother is waiting for him. Not the mother who raised, loved and nurtured him since he was three years old. His birth mother.

OH is not anxious to renew a relationship after forty years of no contact, but he can’t resist, first the urgings of a good friend, then his own curiosity. She proves her identity with her hospital admittance form and his birth certificate. Then she tells her tale of woe.

Mom’s been busy lately. She went to work as a bookkeeper for a Cuban patriot in Miami collecting money for the next Bay of Pigs, some 10 million dollars in an offshore account. Suddenly her boss is gone, the office cleaned out, all the money withdrawn from the account. Next a couple of goons show up accusing her of stealing that money from the Cuban people. She takes it on the lam, driving all the way across the country to Oakland in her yellow BMW to see her son, the PI. She wants him to protect her.

He’s not anxious to take on the job. Why should he? Was she interested in protecting him when he was a child? He asks her why she gave him up for adoption. She responds with frustration and anger and stabs herself in the hand with a pair of nail scissors. Not the most stable of personalities. OH tries to follow her, but she gets away.

As he goes home to the marina where he lives on his boat, OH is accosted by two gorillas – or is it guerrillas? Mom’s erstwhile boss and his brother. They want to know where the money is. It seems Mom told them that OH, her son, has it. Whatta gal!

In order to impress him with the seriousness of their query, the two hardmen dump OH into the Bay and won’t let him out until he comes clean – or dies. The water is very cold, and OH is somewhat the worse for alcoholic wear. He could easily die from hypothermia. What happens next could prove the dominant strength of maternal love or self-preservation.

In spite of my light-toned review, this story is anything but light. Mr. Wohlforth does a good job of showing the confusion and frustration of a man abandoned by his birth mother. Why did she do it? Does he hate her as much as he thinks he does? Was he unworthy in some way? Was he unlovable? Did he force her away? OH is filled with warring emotions, curiosity versus rage. What is the true worth of Blood Ties?

In short, I enjoyed it, and the final twist makes the perfect cherry on top.

Lady Chesterliegh and the King of Swords by Susan Brassfield Cogan

2005-05-04T06:15:00.000-06:00

“Lady Chesterleigh and the King of Swords” by Susan Brassfield Cogan, Mysterical-e, March 2005

This story takes place in 1935 San Francisco. Lacy Chesterleigh is kidnapped by a couple of toughs and taken to see a local crime lord called the King of Swords. He is called that due to his propensity for using a sword to relieve his enemies of their heads.

Lady Chesterleigh is not a hothouse flower. She is tough, hardy and not easily intimidated. She has worked closely with the police in the past.

The King of Swords wants Lady Chesterleigh to use her influence with one Inspector Monahan to get his son released from custody. In a raid the night before the police found the King’s son unconscious with his pockets full of opium. He has her write a note to Monahan on pain of beheading. Once she has finished, the King sends one of his henchmen to deliver the note to Monahan.

Now that he has seen to the release of his son, he thinks, he turns his mind to finding the identity of the person or persons who framed his son. He does this by consulting an old crone who reads the Tarot cards. Apparently this isn’t the first time he has utilized her services.

The crone reads the cards and implicates two young men who are part of a triumvirate of friends. The King interprets this to mean his son’s two constant companions.

Lady Chesterliegh has some knowledge of Tarot, enough to see that the old crone is telling a story of her own making and not reading the cards she lays down. Questioning her about the cards, she leads into a question about the crone’s children. It seems she had a grandson that was murdered. She says that his murderer is in prison and will not long survive.

Along with the questions about the cards this tale of woe leads the King to conclude that his son’s betrayer stands before him. Can Lady Chesterleigh save the crone and herself as well?

I enjoyed this story more than I thought I would. It isn’t quite a cozy (there is some graphic violence), but it isn’t hardboiled either. I liked the main character and wouldn’t mind reading more of her adventures.

The tone of the story, the voice, is very much like what you would expect for the time period, and therein lie my two quibbles. One was the use of the phrase “good buddies”. That seemed anachronistic for 1935. Maybe it was just my exposure to the CB culture, but probably not.

The other was the reaction of one of the characters to being shot in the arm. I can’t go into much detail without giving away the ending, but that reaction may have been consistent with a Golden Age story, however in this day and age it just won’t fly. It put a bad ending on a good story. If Ms. Cogan insists on depicting violence, she must become familiar with the effects of violence.

In short, closer attention to detail might make Lady Chesterliegh one of my more favored characters.

Dress Blues by Michael A. Black

2005-05-03T06:25:00.000-06:00

“Dress Blues” by Michael A. Black, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

PI Ron Shade is looking for a runaway boy. The boy, Manuel, had a behavior problem, he was getting into trouble and trying to get into a local gang, the Spanish Tigers. His mother, with the help of a family friend, got him enrolled in the Woodsen Academy, a military school. Manuel had disappeared from the school.

The people at the school were unhelpful, but sent him to Dr. Odin, a psychologist who counsels the school’s more problematic students. Odin also used the “didn’t have time to get to know him” excuse, suggesting that Manuel had gone back to the gang. Ron learns that Manuel’s street name is El Mariposito, Little Butterfly, because of his affinity for Filipino butterfly knives. (BTW, Dave, you got the spelling right on the third try!)

Ron tries to talk to his friend, George, at the police department but is brushed off because of the murder of a big-shot named Horkin. Later, with the heat off because of the kiddie porn they found in Horkin’s safety deposit box, George offers to help Ron talk to some Spanish Tigers. They don’t know where he is. George sends him to a priest who helps kids in trouble. That also turns out to be a dead end.

Ron goes back to see George who had promised to check Manuel’s juvenile file. When he arrives George is going through Rolodex cards from the murdered big-shot pervert’s office. One of the cards attracts Ron’s attention, Dr. Herman P. Odin. When Ron finds out that Horkin was knifed, he goes back to see Odin.

I enjoy Mr. Black’s Ron Shade stories, and this one is no exception. Shade is well drawn, and I like the fact that he can take care of himself. PIs like John Lutz’s Nudger make me nuts. Becoming a professional snooper, at least in fiction, almost guarantees that sooner or later someone is going to take violent exception to your actions. Anyone that doesn’t realize this and take appropriate steps is less than bright.

I also liked the way Mr. Black led Shade to build his case step by step, many of them false, letting us feel his frustration build, then blowing off a little steam with the hulk at the halfway house. That relief then let him build suspense more effectively to the end.

In short, good, solid PI fare.

Death of an Aztec Princess by Martin Limon

2005-05-02T06:22:00.000-06:00

“Death of an Aztec Princess” by Martin Limon, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, June 2005

A young woman, a high-school senior, is missing. Her mother calls Gonzo Gonzales, a private eye in East L.A. Gonzo is the mother’s cousin, but the girl is like a daughter to him. The girl, Juanita, is pretty and smart. She’s a member of a folk-dance troupe and a Chicano activist. She’s late coming home from a rehearsal, and her mother is worried.

Gonzo finds her by following the police presence in El Cinco de Mayo Park, a place that is a haven for drug dealers. Now Gonzo is no longer looking for her, he’s looking for her murderer.

Gonzo searches Juanita’s room and finds about $500 in small bills along with a small notebook with cryptic entries of initials and dollar amounts. Juanita’s mother tells him that Juanita has been dating a drug dealer.

The police arrest Henry Carranza, an ex-boyfriend and leader of Los Diablitos, an East L.A. gang, on the testimony of a witness. The witness, Chuy the Squirrel, is a hanger-on, not a gang member but someone the gangs find useful to run errands.

Gonzo suspects that Henry is telling the truth when he says he didn’t kill Juanita. Gonzo finds Chuy and questions him. But Chuy is afraid of something. Gonzo gets knocked out and wakes up the center of attention for a number of the vatos of Los Diablitos. They tell him to meet Chuy alone and unarmed in the park and warn him to stay away from El Cinco after that. Then they make sure Gonzo knows they are serious.

During the meeting Chuy is killed by an unknown shooter who then chases Gonzo through the sewer system. Gonzo gets away.

While having breakfast the next morning, Gonzo figures out what the notebook and money mean. They are contributions to Juanita’s dance troupe from local businesses. This discovery leads him to Juanita’s murderer.

This story is well-written and well plotted with a big twist at the end. The atmosphere of East L.A. is so vivid that you can smell the albondigas cooking. This isn’t just a mystery story, this is Chicano literature. Mr. Limon immerses the reader so thoroughly in the East L.A. culture that returning to my gringo world on finishing the story was something of a shock.

In short, read this story.

Nothing But Jerks by Dave Zeltserman, art by Jean-Pierre Jacquet

2005-04-29T06:27:00.000-06:00

“Nothing But Jerks”, written by Dave Zeltserman, illustrated by Jean-Pierre Jacquet, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

Lou Johnston got shot in the abdomen during a bank robbery. He survived with the help of a shady doctor, but after three weeks he still hurts. Not a nice man to begin with, the pain is making him worse. His girlfriend, Norma, who takes the brunt of his ill temper, is caring for him.

Not only is he in physical pain, Lou has some emotional pain to deal with as well. First is the fact that he is embarrassed. He tried to be a nice guy and not hurt the bank guard, and after all that consideration, the damn guard shot him anyway. Then there’s the fact that none of the guys in the gang who robbed the bank with him have come to see how he’s doing. That bothers him more than the wound.

Then Harry comes by to see him. So at least one of the gang isn’t a jerk. Maybe. After a few minutes of visiting, Harry brings up the reason he really came to see Lou. Harry’s afraid he’s in trouble with Manny, one of the local mob bosses. It seems Harry’s been skimming the money he’s been collecting for Manny. He wants Lou to talk to Manny, see what he knows, maybe smooth things out.

Lou says, sure, he’ll talk to Manny, straighten things out. Only thing is, Lou’s a little miffed. Harry didn’t come by to see how Lou was doing, he just wanted Lou to do him a favor. How should Lou handle this?

Serial art. That’s what the late Will Eisner called comics. A series of drawings that help tell a story. I’ve always felt that art can enhance the written word, and that’s what’s happened with this story. You could tell Lou Johnston is a bastard just from the writing, but the art brings the impression home. Navigation through the story is easy, but I wish it had been easier to download and print.

In short, a nice addition to the Zeltserman/Jacquet cannon. Do another one.

The Inside Job by J. Mark Bertrand

2005-04-28T06:23:00.000-06:00

“The Inside Job” by J. Mark Bertrand, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

Tanner spent eight years in prison for a liquor store robbery gone wrong – at least from his viewpoint. Maybe he found religion inside or at least a moral compass. He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to go back. All he wants is a normal life. He met a woman, Joan, and fell in love. She doesn’t care about his background. He has a job, he has a woman, it looks like his dream of a normal life is within reach.

Then Gravel shows up. Gravel is his best friend from childhood. He was Tanner’s partner in the liquor store robbery. Gravel didn’t try to go straight when he got out. Now he’s in trouble. He owes seventy grand to some very bad people. He wants Tanner to help him make a score big enough to clear him.

If Tanner had the seventy grand he’d give it to Gravel, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t want to go back to crime. They argue, and Tanner sends him away. Joan, who knows how close he and Gravel are, wants to know what the argument was about. Tanner tells her, and suddenly this woman of Tanner’s dreams, this 14-year employee of a bank, this citizen comes up with a plan to rob the bank where she works.

Tanner doesn’t want to do it. Joan arranges a meeting with Gravel. He and Joan try to convince Tanner to do the job. Joan even says she has the guns they will need. She tells them the routine of the bank, how many guards, the best time to hit. She also comes up with a way to force the manager to open the vault – by holding the man’s wife hostage. Finally, reluctantly Tanner agrees to do the job while Gravel holds the bank manager’s wife hostage.

But when Tanner gets to the bank, nothing is like Joan said it would be. The vault is open. There are two guards instead of one. Tanner gets away with one bag of money but not without shooting one guard and pistol-whipping another. Things get worse from there. Is there redemption waiting for him, or jail or even death?

This story reads easily and quickly. Mr. Bertrand does a good job of showing how a man with good intentions can be dragged into bad ways through relationships that make him feel obligated. And let’s not forget the femme fatale. This story could have fit right in the Dangerous Women anthology.

I have one small quibble with the sudden appearance of the prison chaplain at the end. It almost feels like deus ex machina, though there is a quick explanation of his presence. But I would have felt better if he had made a physical appearance earlier in the story.

In short, an excellent object lesson about the influence of bad company.

Venus in Transit by Chick Lang

2005-04-27T06:27:00.000-06:00

“Venus in Transit” by Chick Lang, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

A young man meets a woman in a bar. They are total opposites, but he can’t get enough of her. Leah is the dominant one, leading him around by his dick. The night they meet she picks the pocket of practically every man in the place. When they wake up the next morning, he discovers that she has picked his pocket as well. She hands him his wallet with $2,000 in it. His share of the night’s proceeds, she says.

Even though the two of them constantly fight, he can’t bring himself to break away. They stayed together for months, robbing, conning, thieving every easy mark that came along, and some not so easy. He keeps thinking he should leave her, but she dominates him totally.

Suddenly she decides she wants to rob a bank. Even though he has grown increasingly uncomfortable with their way of life, he goes along as she knew he would. She has what sounds like a good plan. He bought a disposable car that they will use for the robbery and to get them back to a place to switch to their normal car. She leaves him an envelope just before he drops her off in front of the bank. She says it is her last will and testament, just in case something goes wrong. He isn’t supposed to open it unless she doesn’t show up at the appointed time and place.

As he waits for her he has to fend off anxiety, a couple of passing vagrants and the temptation to open the envelope. Finally the time comes, and she is nowhere to be seen. He follows the plan, and heads back to switch cars. What he finds there and in the envelope Leah left him make the end consistent with what has gone before.

To be honest I almost didn’t get past the first sentence, and the next three paragraphs were a real struggle. Much too “literary” for my taste. It felt like dressing in a paper tuxedo to attend a frat party.

Aside from that, it was a pretty good story. The main character, unnamed, was consistent throughout, as was Leah. The contents of her note struck exactly the right tone for her, and the viewpoint character’s reaction to that note was inevitable.

In short, if you can get through the first four paragraphs without throwing up, it’s a decent story.

Amends by Walker Eugene Dollahon

2005-04-26T06:15:00.000-06:00

“Amends” by Walker Eugene Dollahon, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

The story begins in a bar deep in the piney woods of East Texas during the 1940s. At this time in most of Texas you couldn’t legally by an alcoholic drink, so places like Mack ‘N Jacks sprang up in out of the way places to cater to the thirsty crowd. That crowd tended to be a bit on the rough side.

Jimmy is the swamper and general dogsbody at Mack ‘N Jacks. Jimmy’s family has fallen on hard times. Two of his brothers are in the military, one having been killed in the Pacific Theater. This affected his family deeply. His father drank himself to death, and his mother has withdrawn into herself. Because no one is working it, their farm is in danger of foreclosure. Jimmy does what he can, but he can’t do it by himself. Jimmy’s father’s one extravagance was a car. His mother hates it, but Jimmy won’t give it up.

One day Cap Pressler walks into the bar and starts ordering Jimmy around. Jimmy’s about to lay a whuppin’ on Pressler when suddenly he finds himself on the other end of that whuppin’. Now that he has established his place in the pecking order, Pressler starts treating Jimmy better, even being friendly.

Pressler meets two other men in the bar, one of whom is Jimmy’s cousin. They huddle and drink together for hours several days in a row. Finally they ask Jimmy to join their gang. They are going to rob a bank, and they need a getaway driver. Pressler says no one will get hurt, so Jimmy agrees.

The job is well planned. Each of the members of the gang knows what he is going to do and when to do it. Nonetheless, the job goes sour. Only Pressler and Jimmy get away. But a bad day only gets worse for one of them.

For a first published story, Mr. Dollahon has made one hell of a debut. The story is well told and well plotted. Cap Pressler is smooth and cosmopolitan, at least for a back-woods place like Nacagdoches in the 1940s. Mr. Dollahon also makes a good job of quiet, long-suffering Jimmy. His description of Jimmy’s anxiety while waiting outside during the bank robbery is spot on. And the ending brings home a common warning about a certain kind of person.

In short, welcome to the fold, Mr. Dollahon.

The Last Act by Barry Baldwin

2005-04-25T06:29:00.000-06:00

“The Last Act” by Barry Baldwin, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

A man named Harry walks into a bar just before closing to use the restroom and make a call. Myra, the bartender and only other person in the place, offers him a cup of coffee.

Harry needs a taxi, but Myra tells him that taxis won’t come to this neighborhood this time of night. She offers to give him a ride to a bar she frequents to wind down after her shift. That bar has a taxi stand nearby.

Myra invites Harry in for a drink. She tells him her history. She’s an aspiring actress. Her sister Fay was killed in a robbery of that bar she works in. She says she works there as a way to keep Fay alive in her mind a little longer.

Harry is a car thief, at least that night he was. He had boosted an expensive car that gave out just before he walked into Myra’s bar. She had him nailed. Myra spotted the car as she was driving away from her place of employment.

Myra has a plan. She wants to rob a bank and make a score big enough to allow her to move on from aspiring actress to working actress. She wants to be smart about it, and Harry is smart enough to know a good plan when he hears it.

Harry finds a couple of guys for muscle, and they pull their job. Afterwards Harry and Myra meet at another bar. Harry reveals that the two guys he hired are now sleeping with the fishes. What happens next is a big surprise for Harry.

This story has a good plot, and Mr. Baldwin fleshes it out well. Unfortunately that intangible voice didn’t feel right. It felt like Mr. Baldwin was going for hardboiled noir but couldn’t quite pull it off. His voice felt forced.

I like colorful language probably more than most people, but “Wariness danced its silent two-step between them” is just trying too hard. The same for the two opening sentences. Either one would have been enough. Both were too much.

Worst of all, there was no emotion, no feeling. Hardboiled noir has a hard surface that on a casual reading seems emotionless, but that surface conceals a turbulent undercurrent of raw feeling. Myra felt nothing for Fay or her murderer other than what her cultural tradition demanded. That balancing act between showing the emotionless mask and allowing the reader to feel what’s beneath is a tough thing to pull off.

In short, try again, Mr. Baldwin. You’re a good enough writer that you might pull it off with practice.

What's in a Name by Robert Wm. Wagner

2005-04-22T06:12:00.000-06:00

“What’s in a Name” by Robert Wm. Wagner, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

The story begins with Angela assessing her body and reflecting on her romantic prospects – or lack of them.

Angela is a loan officer in a bank frequented by a man the ladies call Gallahad. Angela lusts after him, but hasn’t the courage to make contact. Today is the day Gallahad comes in to deposit his check. In a conversation with Clara, one of the tellers, Charlie Gallahan reveals that he is attracted to Angela but is reluctant to approach her.

As Gallahan is leaving, two robbers enter the bank and kill the guard. Gallahan pulls a pistol and shoots one of the robbers. Gallahan is a cop, but we aren’t told that. It is a conclusion we draw because of a couple of short phrases buried in the story. A nice touch.

Before Gallahan can shift his aim to the other robber, he pulls out a sawed-off shotgun and shoots Gallahan taking out a good portion of his thigh and nicking the femoral artery.

What Angela does next takes her well beyond the normal role of loan officer.

Mr. Wagner does an outstanding job of writing female characters. Not once did I get kicked out of the story by a false note. Angela is, of course, particularly well drawn, but so was Clara, the teller.

I was also pleased by the way Mr. Wagner built my empathy with Angela so that the end of the story there was an emotional connection.

In short, good storytelling.

The Inside Man by Gary Lovisi

2005-04-21T06:07:00.000-06:00

“The Inside Man” by Gary Lovisi, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

Johnny is the inside man for a team of career bank robbers. He gets a job at a bank, works there for a few weeks to learn the routine and the security codes and then his partners rob the bank while he cowers on the floor with the rest of the bank’s staff and customers.

Johnny’s gang of several years standing consists of himself, Jackie/Jack, “as butch a lez as one could get,” and her mountainous and mentally challenged brother, Deke. Left to himself Deke isn’t much of a threat to anyone, but he does what Jackie/Jack tells him without question.

This time Johnny has been working at the bank for a couple of months, longer than his usual tenure. Soon after he joined the bank he began a romantic entanglement with Janet Egan, the branch manager. He learned that the bank was due for a large infusion of cash, a million dollars in small bills. He and Jackie/Jack decided to wait until the cash arrived before pulling the robbery.

Unfortunately during the down time a woman with the improbable name of Flouncy attached herself to Deke. Deke wasn’t the only member of the gang to be attracted to Flouncy. In fact there wasn’t a single member of the team that wasn’t attracted to her. And Flouncy seemed quite happy with the way things were going.

Johnny, however, was not. Just before the day of the robbery, he convinced the rest of the gang to relocate their base of operations without telling Flouncy. She was out of their hair, and the team was working. Or so he thought.

On the day of the robbery, instead of an invasion of two masked and armed robbers, there was an invasion of three masked and armed robbers. Flouncy was back. And things went downhill from there with a couple of twists on the way.

This is a good story with a lot of suspense. Mr. Lovisi builds tension, then relaxes it, then builds it again to a higher peak. There is a series of these peaks and valleys throughout the story. Poor Johnny has more ups and downs than a yo-yo. My only quibble with the story is that I wish I could have felt more empathy for Johnny. That lack of empathy is always a danger when your main character is a bad guy.

In short, mildly disappointing but still an enjoyable story.

One Step Closer by Iain Rowan

2005-04-20T06:26:00.000-06:00

“One Step Closer” by Iain Rowan, Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005

A man goes to the bank on a whim. He needs a little walk-around money, and there’s the bank. Might as well pop in.

On a normal day, five, ten minutes and he’s on his way, one more check on the list of Things-To-Do. The thing about extraordinary days is that they are pretty normal until something exceptional pops up and punches you in the gut.

That was Ward’s day. Nip into the bank for a little folding money, then be on his way. Only that day an armed bank robber decides to do the same thing in the same bank at the same time. In an instant the normal becomes the extraordinary.

This isn’t a long story, but Mr. Rowan packs it to overflowing, to mix a metaphor. In the first three paragraphs, the bank robbery is already in progress, almost over in fact. Then a flashback. (To those who think flashbacks are a bad idea poorly executed, see this story and be shamed.) The story then proceeds chronologically. Mr. Rowan builds the suspense as gradually as he can in a story of this length. He increases the stakes with a killing and a near miss, then the characters see the hope that it is within seconds of being over. Suddenly, things really go to hell.

Mr. Rowan uses the device of a panicky woman to ramp up the tension, but he does it well without making her panic the centerpiece of the scene and without making her unsympathetic. A nice balancing act.

Another thing I liked about the story is that Mr. Rowan uses smells to help set the scene. Few authors do that. Smell is a powerful sense that can often evoke more vivid memories than any of the other senses. These memories can bring a reader deeply into the story. I’ve never seen the inside of a British bank, but I know the smell of commercial floor polish.

Near the end of the story, Mr. Rowan repeats the first three paragraphs, but in this position they have an emotional impact that they didn’t have at the beginning. This indicates how well the character of Ward was drawn.

And finally, harking back to my latest rant, Mr. Rowan knows his criminals. “We don’t even exist for him, Ward thought. We aren’t even people. There is nothing in this world but himself.”

In short, read this story.

Hardluck Stories, Spring 2005 Issue

2005-04-20T06:17:00.000-06:00

The spring issue of Hardluck Stories has sprung. There are stories by Walker Eugene Dollahan, Robert Wm. Wagner, Gary Lovisi, Barry Baldwin, J. Mark Bertrand, Iain Rowan, Chick Lang, and a reprint by Michael Black. In addition, there is an original noir comic book adapted from one of Dave Zeltserman's stories. There have been a few changes made to the zine, and Pat Lambe does his usual bang-up job with the layout. Stop by and take a look.

The Jane Case by Michael Z. Lewin

2005-04-19T06:18:00.000-06:00

“The Jane Case” by Michael Z. Lewin, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, May 2005

The story begins with Old Man Lunghi, founder of the Lunghi Detective Agency and head of the family. The Old Man is a little more than semi-retired, his extended family now running the agency. Mama, the Old Man’s wife, decides that he needs something to do, so she gets him to start going to a YMCA gym on a regular basis. One day while at the gym he notices the running style of one of the other male patrons. This guy “dishes,” throws his heels out to the sides, as he runs. While watching this guy a young woman comes up and tells the Old Man about how this guy stole her phone on the street a few days before. When she saw him in the gym and recognized his running style she confronted him. He laughed at her. She went to the police, but they wouldn’t believe that she could identify the thief by his running style.

The Old Man believes her and decides that he will help her. This pleases Mama, though, of course, she doesn’t show it. She begins manipulating the rest of the family into helping the Old Man, but on his terms. She wants him more involved, more interested in life. If the rest of the family takes over the case, the Old Man will just sink back into the lethargy she’s trying to get him out of. So the Old Man handles the case his way, bringing in one of the school-age members of the family to help him.

From a structural standpoint this is a textbook detective story. The Old Man discovers one small piece of information that leads him to another and another until, as Clouseau used to say, the case is solve-ed. It’s the writing that confuses.

Don’t get me wrong. Mr. Lewin is a good writer, but . . . . The story is set in Bath, England, but the writing style is pure American. The Lunghi family is ethnic Italian, but the Old Man and his wife speak with a Yiddish rhythm and language style. This issue of AHMM is called the humor issue, and maybe Mr. Lewin looked at this concatenation of ethnicities as the humorous part of his story. Written straight, set in the U.S., with either a Jewish or Italian extended family, this would have been an engaging, enjoyable story.

In short, a little too much of a mish-mash to be really enjoyable.

Violence, Sex and "Bad" Language

2005-04-18T06:07:00.000-06:00

If that title doesn't get this essay bumped up in the search engine rankings, I don't know what will.

I reread Chandler's essay, “The Simple Art of Murder”, again last weekend, and it seems to me that it is just as applicable today as the day he wrote it. For those of you who haven't read it, you are missing something that is arguably the pre-eminent analysis of the "detective" story.

In the essay Chandler laments the state of the detective story feeling that it has, in general, been relegated to the realms of fantasy. Not the fantasy that word currently brings to mind, the magical doings of the sword and sorcery ilk, but fantasy in that characters don't behave as real people would.

I can't help but feel that, in the mainstream of mystery fiction, particularly short mystery fiction, that we are right back in the position Chandler was lamenting. What other conclusion can be drawn when the only two mainstream markets paying pro rates for short mystery fiction state right in their guidelines that stories with overt violence, sex and "bad" language will not be considered?

Crime in general, and murder in particular, is ALWAYS accompanied by violence or the threat of violence. The nanny-staters have tried to tell us that watching violence in the movies and television, reading about violence in literature, playing video games wherein one wins through perpetrating imaginary acts of violence will inevitably result in violence in the real world. Violence does not arise from imagination. Violence arises from unbridled passion, a lack of self-control. But that's a discussion for another time.

Of course the refined and educated do commit crimes, but they are a tiny minority, and the crime is usually a one-off. The people who commit crime as a matter of course are not the refined inhabitants of drawing rooms or private clubs. Unless that club is called the Black Gangster Disciples. These people live in a world permeated by violence and sex. How do you write about them without placing them in that world?

To quote Chandler about Hammett and his characters, “He put these people down on paper as they were, and he made them talk and think in the language they customarily used for these purposes.” In these times when even high-school kids use the word “fuck” in every sentence, “bad” language is hard to avoid. How can we write about these people without using their language?

AHMM and EQMM seem to be willing to hamstring the art of writing realistically in order to remain politically correct. As a result, I find more stories that grab me by the throat on the Internet than I do in the pages of the Big Two mentioned above. Unless they let in the occasional realistic crime story, I think they will eventually find themselves left eating the dust of the ezines.

Or am I just miffed because they don’t publish what I like to read and write?

Home by Eddie Newton

2005-04-15T05:59:00.000-06:00

“Home” by Eddie Newton, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

This story appeared under the Department of First Stories banner. As such it is a pretty good story, though it does have its faults.

Three people, Marion, Mabel, and Dell are holed up inside a house that obviously isn’t theirs. They are hiding in the house, because the radio says that some desperate and dangerous convicts have escaped and are thought to be in their neighborhood. One of the convicts used to live in that very neighborhood. The radio is advising everyone to stay in their houses behind locked doors.

Mable is crying and Dell is impatient. Marion wanders through the house remembering. Everything he looks at brings back impressions and memories. He knows the house and the people who used to live there. Marion also worries about “them” and how the locks on this suburban house wouldn’t keep out anyone determined to get in.

The story goes on in this vein in an almost stream of consciousness river about to overflow its banks. That’s fine technique and can be effective if it’s used in short pieces. Unfortunately the entire story is written this way. Because of that the story is too long. I would have been much more effective if it had been about half the length. That would also give the reader less time to figure out what’s going on before the ending. It didn’t take me long to suss out what was what.

All that said, the story is well written and the ending is effective. As you reach the final paragraphs you can see that there are two ways the story can end. Mr. Newton is able to introduce enough suspense about which way the story will go that the ending has at least a little emotional impact.

In short, a good first effort.

Forget About Me by William Bankier

2005-04-14T06:09:00.000-06:00

“Forget About Me” by William Bankier, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

A cop, Detective Darren Conway, and his friend, Lucy, attend the showing of a Woody Allen movie. The theater is crowded, and by the time the movie is about to start parties are breaking up because most of the seats left open are singles. One of those open seats is next to Conway. A woman comes by and leaves her jacket in the empty seat, then goes to have a word with her friend before the movie starts. She never comes back.

Conway can’t get the woman out of his mind. He and Lucy wait for her to return for her jacket until after all the other patrons have gone. They turn the jacket in to the theater manager, Lyle, and Conway leaves his card.

Later Conway gets a call from a man called Oswald. He tells Conway that Serena is fine. He won’t let Conway talk to her.

Conway goes back to Lyle and gets a description of the man who picked up the jacket. The name Oswald and the fact that he was wearing a college athletic jacket with the number, 86, on it allow him to find out Oswald’s full name and that he lives in Venice. Conway and Lucy go there and sits at an outdoor café watching the people, hoping to seen Oswald. Before long, Lyle and Oswald come up to the table. Oswald offers to go get Serena, who is staying with him just a couple of blocks away. When Oswald returns, a woman wearing the right jacket accompanies him. Oswald maneuvers her so that the sun is behind her. She thanks Conway for returning the jacket and leaves. Conway is sure that she is not the same woman.

When Conway and Lucy get home, there is a message on his answering machine. It is Serena, Conway recognizes her voice, saying that Conway should leave her alone.

A few weeks later Conway catches a homicide at the theater where he met Serena. Lyle, the manager, is dead. Conway finds Oswald’s address in Lyle’s day planner and, with his partner, pays him a visit. They arrive just as Oswald is about to drive off towing a U-Haul trailer. Asked about Serena, Oswald says she is upstairs. Conway goes up to finally meet this woman he has been obsessing about for weeks.

The story is well-written and kept my interest, but there was just something unsatisfying about it. The ending just doesn’t read true. I suppose that there wasn’t enough build-up given to support Conway’s condition at the end.

In short, a workmanlike story that is ultimately unsatisfying.

Walkie-Talkie by Michael Mallory

2005-04-13T06:17:00.000-06:00

“Walkie-Talkie” by Michael Mallory, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

This story had my blood boiling.

Jeff McKee, his wife, Dinah Purdue, and their five-year-old son, Gage are going on a trip. Jeff and Dinah are actors. Jeff is the more famous of the two having played Jack Ryan, the hero of several Tom Clancy novels, in a movie. Dinah’s fame has faded in the last few years since she took time off for being a mother. The disparity in recognition has begun to rankle, not obviously, but Jeff had noticed and increasing number of little things that tell him his wife is not happy. He tries to compensate by disparaging his own achievements, a strategy that doesn’t work as well as it used to.

Dinah has insisted they bring along a couple of Power Ranger walkie-talkies in case they get separated in the airport. She has one and Jeff has the other.

While waiting to board their plane Jeff takes Gage to the bathroom. Gage insists that he doesn’t need to go, but Jeff does. Jeff goes into a stall and tells Gage to stay just outside giving him the walkie-talkie to play with. They talk back and forth for a bit, but then it gets quiet. Jeff becomes concerned and comes out to discover that Gage is nowhere to be found.

Jeff goes to find Dinah hoping that Gage got impatient and returned to his mother. Dinah hasn’t seen him. They try to call him on the walkie-talkie, but at first get no response. Then a few minutes later they hear an adult voice on the radio saying that he has Gage and he wants to see “if the great Jack Ryan can solve the mystery.”

As the story progresses Mr. Mallory shows us that Jeff has a violent temper, one that plays a big part in the ending. He also shows us the progression of events that cause Jeff’s fear for his son’s safety, his guilt and his rage to build to the breaking point. Everything is logical in within character. Mr. Mallory had me identifying so strongly with Jeff that with the penultimate twist I was getting angry myself. I’m a very even-tempered, laid-back sort of fellow. Any writer that can make me angry in sympathy with his character is doing one hell of a job.

In short, one of the best stories Ellery Queen has published in the last year.

White Tea by G. Miki Hayden

2005-04-12T05:39:00.000-06:00

"White Tea" by G. Miki Hayden, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

This story is about two women in similar circumstances but on opposite sides of the Earth. The time period is apparently the late 1920s or early 1930s. The Communists have not yet taken China, and future Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter has lost the Sacco and Vanzetti case.

In China a young girl is sold to her uncle to work on his tea plantation. She grows up and becomes the best tea grader her uncle has. Along the way she has fallen in love with another worker on the plantation. Her dreams of marriage to this young man are dashed when her uncle informs her that she is to be married to another older man of his choosing. She is desperate to avoid marrying this man, so she plots to murder her uncle. Knowing that he always chooses the choicest grade of tea for his own use, she poisons a fresh package of tea that she intends to bring to him.

In America there lives another woman, no longer so young. Anne has spent the best part of her life caring for her own uncle who was once an importer. Uncle Wilbur dies suddenly one night, and Anne's life changes forever. As the old man's sole heir, Anne can taste the first hints of the freedom that awaits her. A freedom she's never known.

But then the doctor asks her some strange questions. The police arrive and take away all the food in the house. Anne can't imagine what is going on. Eventually the police arrest Anne for the murder of her uncle.

The lives of these two women intertwine, and Ms. Hayden does an exceptional job of telling their stories. Ms. Hayden illuminates the characters of the women effortlessly. In addition, the "voice" of each of the women is distinct though not obtrusively so. There is a discrete difference in tone between the Chinese setting and the American one, but the transition is not jarring.

In short, another feather in Ms. Hayden's cap.

The Cherries of Lucullus by Steven Saylor

2005-04-11T06:16:00.000-06:00

“The Cherries of Lucullus” By Steven Saylor, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

This story takes place in ancient Rome just before Cicero was elected Consul. The main character is Gordianus the Finder. Lucullus, famous general and epicurean, has asked his friend, Cicero, to bring Gordianus to dinner.

Lucullus was, and still is, famous for his elaborate and extravagant dinner parties, thus the origin of the phrase “Lucullan feast”. The dinner to which Gordianus is invited is to be one of the more elaborate ones. The guests are to be Lucullus’s wife, his brother Marcus, Cicero, Gordianus, and the three A’s, Antiocus, the Greek philosopher, Arcesislaus, the sculptor, and Archias, the poet.

Once dinner is over Lucullus takes his guests into his orchard where he has the only cherry trees in Rome. He brought those trees, along with many other exotic plants and flowers, back from his many military campaigns in the far corners of the empire. The cherries are just now ripe, and he invites his guests to help themselves.

While in the orchard, Lucullus tells Gordianus why he was invited. Lucullus believes that an old enemy of his, Varius, is currently masquerading as a slave tending the roses and biding his time before attempting to assassinate him. Lucullus had captured Varius and was bringing him back to Rome by sea for public execution. Varius escaped his chains and went over the side. He hasn’t been seen since. One of Varius’s distinguishing characteristics is the fact that he has only one eye, the left being missing. Motho the gardener has only one eye, only it’s his right eye that is missing. In spite of that fact, and in spite of the fact that Lucullus has had men who knew Varius tell him that Motho is just a slave gardener, Lucullus remains convinced that Motho is Varius. He wants Gordianus to confirm this.

In spite of the fact that I am not drawn to Ancient Rome as a setting for much of anything, I found this story to be engaging. Mr. Saylor is able to make the setting believable, injecting just enough detail about the culture and politics of the time without being obtrusive, a delicate balancing act. The writing is smooth, and he doesn’t try to “Latinize” the dialogue. I found myself genuinely interested in how Gordianus was going to prove or disprove Motho’s identity. The solution is one that I certainly didn’t expect, and one that ties the story back to a problem a segment of our current population has.

In short, an excellent story.

Everybody's Girl by Robert Barnard

2005-04-08T06:07:00.000-06:00

“Everybody’s Girl” by Robert Barnard, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

Everyone has always loved Ruth Lowton, or so it seems.

Ruth is away at her first year in college, and her parents are worried. Her letters indicate that she is unhappy, not fitting in at college. The latest letter even hints at suicide. Her father drives to Leeds, where she attends college, while her mother stays at home in case she calls.

Meanwhile we meet the couple across the street, two people in an unhappy marriage of long standing. They too love Ruthie, each in their own way.

We also meet Ruthie’s high school history teacher, whom Ruthie tended to dominate. And there is a boy at school, a melancholy sort. Ruthie seemed quite attached to him. He certainly thought the world of her. There is also the guy across the hall at her flat who didn’t like her at all.

When her father reaches Leeds and begins looking for her, the police are fishing her body out of a river. Her father witnesses this and is devastated, thinking she has committed suicide as she hinted at in her letter. The police, on the other hand, know it to be murder. The back of her head is caved in.

As the police investigate, talking to more and more people who knew Ruthie, a very different personality from the loving, caring Ruthie comes out. Ruthie was a master manipulator, had been from an early age. Only those people she manipulated couldn’t see it. But there was one person among her intimates that knew about her manipulation and could stand it no longer. Mr. Barnard does an excellent job drawing her character through the recollections of the people who knew her.

This story is a textbook police procedural. We follow the detectives assigned to the case as they question people and put together a picture of Ruthie and her life. There isn’t a lot of emotional content in the story. You don’t spend enough time with any of the characters to become attached to them, but that is pretty typical of this type of story. The process is the star.

In short, a good story.

Shooting Big Ed by Loren D. Estleman

2005-04-07T06:09:00.000-06:00

“Shooting Big Ed” by Loren D. Estleman, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May 2005

This is another installment in the Valentino series. Valentino is Estleman’s “Film Detective.” The main character works as a film preservationist for UCLA and lives in a Golden Age movie theater where he makes the projection booth his bedroom.

Valentino is summoned to East L.A. to the home of Ignacio Bozal. Bozal made a fortune as a hotelier on the Mexican Riviera. When he retired he bought a block of houses in East L.A., built a wall around it, and moved his entire extended family into it. He has an extensive film collection and credits his facility with English to ‘30s gangster films. Now at 94, Bozal wants to donate another film to UCLA for preservation.

Bozal shows Valentino a film called “Big Ed”. The film, never seen outside the studio, was made in 1931 and starred a first-timer called Van Oliver. His portrayal of a Capone-like gangster was called brilliant by the few who had seen the film. Oliver, a one-time gangster himself, disappeared after the film was finished. Speculation at the time, fueled by his background, had him sleeping with the fishes.

Because of Oliver’s disappearance, and the rumors attached to it, the studio never released the film, nearing driving Warner Brothers into bankruptcy. The Hayes Commission, run by the religious right, was about to ban gangster movies of the type exemplified by “Scarface” and “Public Enemy,” so with no star to have interviewed, a sordid background, and the shadow of the Hayes Commission looming, Warner Brothers put the film on the shelf.

Valentino discovers that the film is everything rumors have said and more, a brilliant acting job by Oliver. The UCLA PR flack wants Valentino to find out more about the backstory of the movie, so he starts researching. He finds one cast member still alive, Roy Fitzhugh, a character actor who worked well into the ‘50s. Fitzhugh is a victim of Alzheimer’s, but Valentino goes to see him anyway hoping to get the real story of Oliver’s disappearance. And he does.

I like the Valentino series almost as much as I like Estleman’s Amos Walker stories even though Valentino isn’t, by any means, hardboiled. Estleman still works his magic. Reflecting on the contrasts of the two series as I was reading this story I discovered that I identified with Valentino just as much as I identify with Walker, even though the Valentino stories are written in third person. I was a little surprised by that.

In short, a terrific story.

The Cancer Cowboy Rides by John Connolly

2005-04-06T06:10:00.000-06:00

“The Cancer Cowboy Rides” by John Connolly, Nocturnes - A Collection of Short Stories, Atria Books, Trade Paperback, $12.95

This novella is straight horror, mostly consisting of a subtle duel between the Easton, New Hampshire, chief of police, Jim Lopez and Buddy Carson.

Buddy woke up in the Nevada desert one day without any knowledge of who he was or how he got there. He did know that he was sick, badly ill. But not from dehydration and exposure. There was something inside him that made him cough up black blood. Soon he discovers, very graphically, that if he touches someone else they get sick and die quickly. Meanwhile his pain and sickness are alleviated.

Buddy travels around feeding the malevolent black worm inside him by infecting others. Until he hits Easton, he has never infected more than a couple of people in any one place, fearing discovery. Easton is a small town about to have a community gathering that will have most of the people in town in one place at one time. Buddy believes that if he can infect the whole town, his illness will go away for an extended period of time allowing him to take some time off and rest. Infecting people is hard work.

Chief Lopez notices Buddy early on and instinctively dislikes him. After Buddy leers at the Chief’s girlfriend, Lopez tells him to leave town. The rest of the story is a race to see who will triumph. How many people will Buddy kill, and can the chief stop him before Buddy gets the whole town?

This is a very graphic and disturbing story. Who among us doesn’t fear cancer? We call it “The Big C” in order to avoid naming it and thus take away some of it’s power. Mr. Connolly takes this very real fear and takes it to an extreme.

Along the way Mr. Connolly draws some very real characters. All of the major characters and even some of the minor ones feel real. At times he can even make you feel just the tiniest wave of sympathy for Buddy. After all he didn’t ask for this role in life.

The plot line is logical (at least as logical as a horror story can be), and he ratchets the suspense up throughout the story to an action-filled climax.

In short, if this story doesn’t creep you out, you’re not human.

The Reflecting Eye by John Connolly

2005-04-05T06:11:00.000-06:00

“The Reflecting Eye: A Charlie Parker Novella” by John Connolly, Nocturnes – A Collection of Short Stories, Atria Books, Trade Paperback, $12.95

Charlie Parker returns. This story takes place somewhat later than the last novel I read. Rachel, Charlie’s new love, is near giving birth to their first child. This impending event combined with the always-present feeling of loss for Charlie’s first wife and daughter permeate the entire story.

It begins in 1977 with the arrival in a small Maine town of John Grady. Grady buys a house and begins renovating it. The people of the town, at first welcoming, soon begin to avoid the house and Grady. The renovations are odd, mirrors on every wall, and the homemade paste Grady uses to put up the new wallpaper has a peculiar, and unpleasant, stench.

Soon children, little girls, begin to disappear. Ultimately these disappearances lead back to Grady. When the police break into his basement where he has just murdered another girl, Grady commits suicide.

Now, years later, the current owner of the Grady house, the father of the last girl to be killed, comes to Charlie with the suspicion that the killings might be about to begin again. Frank Matheson bought the house and locked it up with steel mesh gates across the windows and doors. He wanted it to continue to stand as a reminder of the terrible things that happened there so that those things might not happen again. The house has always attracted the ghoulish and disturbed, but now, on the steps of the house, he has found an envelope containing a photograph of a little girl. He wants to protect the girl, but has no way to know who she is. He has gone to the police, but they aren’t being proactive enough for him.

Charlie agrees to watch the house and try to find out who left the photo. During his investigations he runs across the Collector, a man who insists that he is owed a debt by John Grady and wants one of the mirrors from the house as payment. This is a very disturbing and dangerous man. There is also Ray Czabo, another collector that tries to obtain artifacts from the scenes of terrible tragedy to sell to others of his ilk. Charlie also comes afoul of an aging mob boss and his son. The son is now consorting with Ray Czabo’s wife.

Charlie’s friends Angel and Louis also make an appearance, but they are little more than set dressing in this story.

All of Connolly’s Charlie Parker stories have an element of the supernatural in them, and this one is no exception. Connolly handles the woo-woo factor well, making you feel that there is some basis in reality. This is a very creepy story.

In short, a fine addition to the annals of Charlie Parker.

Kaddish by Reed Farrel Coleman

2005-04-04T06:14:00.000-06:00

“Kaddish” by Reed Farrel Coleman, King of the Kill, Bleak House Books

How do you review a story like this? It’s a short-short, flash fiction I guess. I can’t say much about the events of the story without giving the whole thing away. I’ve never much cared for flash fiction. The stories are too short, and most of the ones I’ve read depend on some type of “trick”.

“Kaddish”, however, isn’t one of those. If I had to categorize it, I’d say it was a character study with a twist. I say that because Mr. Coleman spends as much time delineating the main character as I suspect he would have in a more conventional short story. And he does it well. The conversation between the main character and Starker Mench in the second half of the story reveals almost as much about the main character as the first half does.

By the way, until I started reviewing stories I never thought much about the main character not being named. Often enough it didn’t really matter, and sometimes it added a sense of mystery to the story. But as a reviewer it’s a real pain in the ass! I’m always referring to “The Main Character.” How awkward is that? How do you make that read smoothly? I can’t even call them ‘Nameless’ for fear of confusing them with Bill Pronzini’s PI. Oh, well. The reviewer’s lot is a hard one. Rant over.

The ending is a little bit open-ended for my taste. Not in the ultimate outcome for the two characters, but in the relationship between them. I would have preferred just a bit more information.

In short, in spite of its length, I liked it.

These Crowded Woods by Skye K. Moody

2005-04-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

“These Crowded Woods” by Skye K. Moody, Wild Crimes edited by Dana Stabenow, Signet, Mass Market Paperback, $6.99

This story takes place in a large section of pristine woods inhabited by eight hermits. And a goat. The goat, Rosie, belongs to Winter Beacon, the oldest of the hermits and the longest in residence. Rosie, an ill-tempered beast on her best days, stopped giving milk when the woods became so crowded with hermits, putting a severe crimp in Winter’s breakfast cuisine.

The hermits begin dying one by one. The first to die, Wren, the nature photographer who wants to buy the entire woods, is found by the second to die, Marco, the telecommuting software engineer. The depredations continue in that manner: the person who finds the bodies is the next to die. There is no obvious sign of how the people are killed, but there is a mark left on the forehead of each victim along with signs that some superficial body part or other had been gnawed off.

The murders continue with each victim-to-be seeking out the help of one of the other hermits with varying degrees of success until only one hermit and the murderer are left.

The story is engaging and light without being what I would call humorous. The ending, however, didn’t live up to the rest. Ms. Moody is an accomplished writer and characterizes each of the hermits well, something not easily done for eight characters within a short story. She also keeps the mostly expository beginning of the story moving through a breezy, gossipy style and hints of what is to come, “getting ahead of the tale” as she puts it. But the ending just doesn’t work for me.

In short, enjoyable but ultimately disappointing.

The Last Kiss by S. J. Rozan

2005-03-31T06:04:00.001-07:00

“The Last Kiss” by S. J. Rozan, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

This is a story about a “Black Widow.” The difference being that in this case she’s doing the world a favor by targeting only lawyers. Unfortunately she doesn’t kill them she just ruins them. She lures them into making love to her, then talks them into making bad investment decisions for her. Later when she has enough ammunition she files charges against them with the Bar Association and the police. She’s looking for one particular type of attorney. One that will do what she really wants done.

Ms. Rozan tells the story from the viewpoint of the Black Widow’s latest victim. She draws him into her web just as she has done with at least four others, though he doesn’t know about them until after she springs her trap on him. She has finally found the right lawyer. He does what she has been waiting for. But the payoff isn’t what he expects.

This story is a textbook example of setup and payoff. In this case the setup is “a kidskin portfolio with a tiny silver lock” that she gives Our Hero at their first meeting. The payoff, revealed at the end of the story, is the contents of that portfolio. The contents show that the Black Widow is a demon for planning.

I’m not sure why I liked this story. I didn’t like it a lot. The language was a little too literary for my taste and seemed awkward in places, but nonetheless, Ms. Rozan has raised this story above the average.

In short, I liked it enough even though I’m not sure why.

The Last Kiss by S. J. Rozan

2005-03-31T06:04:00.000-07:00

Third Party by Jay McInerney

2005-03-30T06:04:00.000-07:00

“Third Party” by Jay McInerney, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

Alex presents himself as a tragic figure. He likes the image. He even moved to Paris because he thought the ambiance better supported the tragic look. He even tells the maitre’d at the place he goes for dinner that he is expecting someone to join him so he will get a more central table and thus be the object of curiosity and perhaps pity of all the other diners as he eats alone at a table for four.

But this time he is joined by Tasha and Frederic, people he’s never seen before that act as if they know him. He plays along to see where it goes.

Where it goes is an intense night of partying though the Paris clubs. Tasha can’t seem to decide whether she wants to make out with Alex or stick with Frederic, doing tongue massages on both. Finally things come to a head, so to speak, with Tasha and Alex in the back seat of Frederic’s car – while Frederic is driving. What happens next could have hurt an awful lot.

I guess I could give Mr. McInerney one star for a mildly interesting character study of a putz, a poseur with no apparent redeeming value to society. Unfortunately the guy is so unlikable, I can’t even bring myself to do that. Main characters, no matter how unlikable, should have at least one decent characteristic to give the audience something to hang on to, like loyalty or the fact that he likes animals. As near as I can tell, Alex has no positive qualities.

The plot of the story seems to be, will Alex get laid or get hurt? I didn’t care much one way or the other. Tasha apparently likes the taste of blood, though there are no supernatural aspects to this story. Other than Alex’s tragic posing and the bullshit philosophy in the last sentence, there’s not a lot to this story. Which, after rereading the sentence before this one, means there’s not a lot to this story.

In short, don’t bother reading this one.

Soft Spot by Ian Rankin

2005-03-29T06:14:00.000-07:00

“Soft Spot” by Ian Rankin, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

Dennis, the main character of this story, is a prison guard in HMP Edinburgh who has worked his way up the ladder to the position of prison censor. All the letters prisoners write, and all they receive, pass through his office. He reads each and every one, cutting out offending words and passages with a razor blade, devouring the pictures sent by wives and girlfriends before passing them on.

But Dennis isn’t content with just reading the letters. He copies the ones that interest him, the ones dealing with relationships, and adds them to his private files at home. You see, Dennis has a thing about relationships; has had since his wife left him ten years ago. Dennis is often tempted to involve himself in those relationships by offering advice, but so far has resisted the temptation.

One particular relationship interests Dennis particularly. Paul Blaine was a big time gangster on the outside. On the inside he is de facto leader of the inmate population. Blaine has a beautiful, much younger wife, Selina. From his letters Blaine seems very much in love with her. She also seems to be hopelessly in love with him, writing steamy and graphic letters. But Dennis thinks she is shamming. He believes that she is a gold-digger looking to take off with Blaine’s money.

This time he can’t stop himself from becoming personally involved. The whole situation is just too juicy. He starts following her on the weekends. He sees her hobnobbing with Fred, one of Blaine’s lieutenants. They seem quite chummy. In one of her letters, Selina had told Blaine that Fred was on an extended trip up north. Then one day a for-sale sign appears in front of her house.

That is the confirming act. Her letters have said nothing about selling the house. Dennis is sure she is going away. He doesn’t want her to go away. He wants her to continue to write and visit her husband. After all, as long as she is around, Dennis might have some chance of becoming involved with her personally.

Dennis decides that he has to tell Blaine what is really going on. The results are surprising.

Mr. Rankin does an excellent job in building up Dennis’s character. Dennis is a passive voyeur who, through a gradual progression, becomes so obsessed with his subject matter that he has to take action. Mr. Rankin also does a fine job in setting up the final scenes. When you read the ending you can think back and see exactly where the setups were: words, phrases and situations that you paid no attention to when you read the story, but without which the story would have been unbelievable.

In short, an excellent story with an unexpected twist.

Earthcore by Scott Sigler

2005-03-28T05:40:00.000-07:00

Earthcore - A Podcast Novel by Scott Sigler, MP3 File, Free

Before I get into this, I've just got to wonder why a post saying I wasn't going to post for a couple of days got as many, or more, comments as a lot of my reviews? What's up with that?

"A Podcast Novel", that's not a short story, you say. Why am I reviewing this? Three reasons:

A) Because it is being issued in twenty installments, so each installment can be considered short fiction (though I don't intend to review each installment). This first installment could easily stand alone as a short story.
B) Because it is another instance of good audio on the web. My regular readers know what that means to me. (If you're not a regular reader, why aren't you?)
C) Because I want to. So there!

Earthcore by Scott Sigler appears to be a technothriller in the "Journey to the Center of the Earth" vein. Earthcore was originally issued as an ebook back in 2000 and was scheduled to be issued in paperback by iPublish until the imprint was shut down just before publication date.

Apparently Mr. Sigler got fed up with trying to flog his book through the regular channels and decided to do something a little different to attract attention. He has recorded the entire book and is releasing the audio files on a weekly basis for twenty weeks. You gotta admire the guy's pluck.

The first episode, the book's prologue, was released last week. About 24-minutes long, it tells the adventures of three geology graduate students in 1942 exploring a cave that one of the students, Samuel, believes is important to his research. The upper reaches of the cave showed signs of Neolithic occupation, but Samuel is more interested in the deeper reaches. He can tell that the cave leads deeper, much deeper into the mountain, but the access is blocked by an ancient rock fall. The strongest of the trio, Wilford Igo, the viewpoint character, is trying to clear a passage big enough for them to squeeze through by shoving one particular boulder out of the way. The trouble is that the boulder is heavy, and moving it in the wrong way could bring the entire rock fall down on them.

Once Wilford exhausts himself moving the boulder, Samuel and Douglas squeeze through the opening to explore deeper. They try to goad Wilford into going with them, but he is too tired. All he wants to do is rest, so they continue without him. Not long afterward, Wilford hears screaming. Douglas makes it back to the boulder where Wilford is, and things go downhill (so to speak) from there.

Mr. Sigler does a good job building suspense with this episode. As I said above, this prologue could stand alone as a horror story. I especially liked Wilford's very personal struggle with the boulder, though that portion could have profited by some judicious editing. It felt a bit overlong. The production values are good with some nice intro and outtro music by The Transfer. Mr. Sigler, in addition to writing the book, performs as well and does a good job of it. This first episode is 11.4 MB in size, so if you have a dial-up connection, prepare to be patient.

In short, I liked it enough to subscribe to the RSS feed so I don't miss any episodes.

No Review For You!

2005-03-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

Having posted every day for almost four months, I have decided to take a page from La Weinman's book and take the weekend off. I might still post random thoughts as they occur to me, but otherwise, see you Monday.

The Seanachai with Patrick McLean

2005-03-25T06:20:00.000-07:00

The Seanachai with Patrick McLean

Rather than a short story, this is the website of a storyteller (that’s what a Seanachai is, an Irish storyteller). Every week Mr. McLean posts an MP3 file of a new story that runs on the order of 4 to 15 minutes. So far there have been 14 posted, and the subject matter runs from the humorously supernatural of “The Vampire In My Attic” to the criminous of “Death In B-Flat”, a PI story.

The production values are top-notch, and Mr. McLean has done this before. I felt like he was sitting next to me telling me the story rather than sitting in a studio reading from a script. He is a talented man, doing all the voices himself. At least I think he does since he doesn’t credit anyone else. Some of the voices are so different from his “normal” voice that I couldn’t swear it was him.

Mr. McLean has one serial going on called “How To Succeed In Evil,” the fourth episode of which was posted last Wednesday. The story follows a man, Edwin Windsor, who has chosen the career of a consultant. But not some mundane business consultancy, oh, no. Edwin earns his considerable fee being an Evil Efficiency Consultant. He is a business consultant to various villains and other nefarious figures.

Edwin is enormously successful at what he does, but he is not a happy man. His clients don’t listen to him. They don’t maximize their potential the way he tells them they should, and that drives him batty. Finally, in the third episode Edwin decides to quit giving advice and show the world how it is done by becoming a villain himself, or so it seems.

All of the stories are well-plotted, well-written and professionally performed, but “How To Succeed In Evil” is especially fun.

Since the stories are recorded at a sampling rate of 128 kbits/sec, the files are fairly large. If you have a dial-up connection it will take a while to download them, but the wait will be worth it.

In short, I subscribed to the RSS feed and listen to every one as they are posted.

Devil's in the Details by Craig McDonald

2005-03-24T06:15:00.000-07:00

“Devil’s In The Details” by Craig McDonald, Philadelphia Citypaper.net, March 17-23, 2005

Joey Grapelli, home from college because of an emergency, is finding out more about the family business first hand than he ever wanted to know. Angello Grapelli, Joey’s father, is in the process of torturing one Tommy Russo, a kid two years younger than Joey. Joey’s grandfather, Carmine, too old for this shit, is watching with a combination of disapproval and regret.

This is Sunday morning. Friday night Joey’s sister, Laura, was kidnapped in an escalation of a war between two crime families, the Russos and the Grapellis. A new restaurant opened in what the Grapelli family thought was their territory. One of the Grapelli lieutenants, not knowing that it was a Russo enterprise, shook it down for a $4,000 protection fee.

The Russo family was not pleased. In retaliation they snatched the Grapelli girl saying that they will free her when the Grapellis return the $4,000 along with a $10,000 fine. If the Russos don’t have the money by 11 a.m. Sunday, Laura will be gang-raped. If by noon they still don’t have the money, she gets a bullet in the back of the head.

Rather than give up the money, Angello decides to pull his own snatch and grabs the Russo kid at 1 a.m. Sunday. Ever since then Angello and his henchmen have been torturing the kid to get Laura’s location out of him.

They have a second deadline, too. Joey and Laura’s mother has been out of state visiting a sister. She doesn’t know anything about the kidnapping, and she is due to get home around noon or a little after.

Carmine keeps trying to convince Joey to take off, go back to school. He knows this thing won’t turn out well no matter what happens. It’s basically the opening shot of a war. Joey wants to leave, but he doesn’t seem to be able to make himself take off.

At 10:50 they check the webcam that the Russo’s have set up showing Laura tied to a chair. Now the chair is empty, turned over on the floor surrounded by the ropes that used to hold the girl. This can’t be good. The Russo kid still isn’t talking. Then just after 11, Mrs. Grapelli shows up. Things are going to hell in a handbasket.

This is a well-written story and the winner in the Crime Fiction portion of the City Paper’s 19th Annual Fiction Contest. Ken Bruen, the Pope of Galway Bay, judged this category of the contest and provides an intro to the story.

Mr. McDonald builds suspense through the course of the story very well. You have the torture on one side and old Carmine urging Joey to get out before this act contaminates him beyond redemption. And there is Joey’s inner conflict between family loyalty and disgust at what is happening.

In short, I’ll echo Mr. Bruen in saying that this story has one hell of an ending.

Witness by J. A. Jance

2005-03-23T06:15:00.000-07:00

“Witness” by J. A. Jance, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

Francine has spent the last twenty-five years as a high-school guidance counselor. Now her friend Mindy comes to her for help. Mindy tells a tale of suffering, the result of mental abuse by her husband of a year. The way Mindy dresses, Francine suspects that the abuse is more than mental.

After receiving a call from her husband, Larry, Mindy leaves their impromptu lunch. Francine goes home. She starts cleaning out the belongings of her husband who died three years ago. As she is packing things up she remembers how happy they were and how much he cared for her. She wanted those things for Mindy, and she is upset that Mindy is having to endure abuse.

Then Francine starts thinking about Larry, how little she knows about him. Then she remembers from a party at their house that Larry has a large gun collection. She then makes the rather illogical leap that Larry will shoot her. He will shoot her this afternoon.

Francine then jumps into her car and drives to Mindy’s house. When she arrives she overhears something that turns her world upside down.

Ms. Jance is a skillful writer. She shows Francine working herself from mildly concerned to desperate fear for her friend’s life completely within character.

In short, well done with a nice twist at the end.

Limp Puppets by David White

2005-03-22T06:04:00.000-07:00

“Limp Puppets” by David White, Shots Magazine, March 2005

This is a short-short about curiosity and how it killed . . . well, there aren’t any cats in this story, thank goodness.

Greg and his lady friend, Rebecca, are in Greg’s car on their way out for a night on the town. Rebecca, as women will, has picked this time to grill Greg on a past incident that has apparently affected his life in a negative way. It happened when Greg was a freshman in high school. Up until that point, he had good grades and was a model student. After that, his grades suffered, he didn’t go to college, and he now works in his father’s pharmacy stocking shelves.

This subject had come up before, but Greg wouldn’t talk about it. Now Rebecca, as women will, has decided that she will no longer take NO for an answer. Events escalate.

I have one quibble with this story. In the seventh paragraph of the story, a very short story with, otherwise, few wasted words, Rebecca spends FOUR SENTENCES adjusting her wardrobe! It was like a compulsion, whether Rebecca’s or Mr. White’s I don’t know.

Now the good. For such a short story, the characters are well-drawn. I liked the way Mr. White showed Rebecca’s determination to get the story out of Greg. Rebecca just keeps pushing and pushing, as women will. At one point Greg finds a radio station with music he hopes Rebecca will sing along with. One single-sentence paragraph: “Rebecca doesn’t sing.” Nicely done.

I also liked the way Mr. White showed Greg’s increasing agitation with very short paragraphs interspersed between longer paragraphs of dialogue.

And the ending. A very nasty twist.

In short, with the exception of the OCD paragraph, I liked it.

A Thousand Miles From Nowhere by Lorenzo Carcaterra

2005-03-21T06:11:00.000-07:00

“A Thousand Miles From Nowhere” by Lorenzo Carcaterra, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

The story starts with Frank sitting in a deserted airport bar, his back against a window, waiting out a snowstorm. No flights will leave that night. Almost everyone has found someplace to go except him and the bartender.

Then a beautiful woman walks in. This is Josephine, or Joey as she prefers to be called. Frank and Joey strike up a conversation. Joey is a prosecutor from LA. Frank is a hitman. He doesn’t say that, of course, but I’ve known what he does from the second paragraph of the story. It wasn’t stated, but there was enough information that I knew.

The conversation turns to the perfect crime. Joey says that she has seen one perfect crime, the murder of a young woman more than twenty years ago. As the conversation progresses we discover that Frank knows who Joey is, the sister of the woman he murdered all that long time ago. He knows she’s been hunting him. He’s always been a few steps ahead of her until tonight, until a snowstorm and two canceled flights.

Not a lot happens in this story, but that’s OK. The conversation between Frank and Joey is done well enough to keep your interest. The conflict is there, at first between Mother Nature and two people who need to be somewhere else, then between a prosecutor and a businessman who is really a criminal, then between hunter and hunted.

The ending was a little disappointing, but I think that was more due to something small the author missed than anything to do with the way the story turned out. I can’t tell you what the mistake was without giving away the ending, but I have given you a hint above, something you can also find in the story.

In short, a good story that could have been better had Mr. Carcaterra paid attention.

J. A. Konrath Interview

2005-03-20T07:40:00.000-07:00

Today I have an interview with J. A. (Joe) Konrath, author of the “Jack” Daniels series, the novel Whiskey Sour and a couple of short stories. He also writes horror short stories.

TSOI: Which do you enjoy writing more, Joe, short stories or novels?

JAK: Short stories. I think a finished novel is more satisfying, but I usually knock out a short story in two or three days, so I don't have time to get sick of it.

But the thing I really love writing is poetry. Here's one:

My grandma wears a diaper,
I really hate to wipe her.

TSOI: In addition to mystery/crime short stories you write horror. Which genre is easier for you to write?

JAK: They're both pretty easy. The really tough genre is gay cyberpunk chick lit ethnic sci-fi.

Beware writing in genres you don't read. I tried to do a inspiration book, but didn't know enough about the format, and couldn't sell it. It was called "Soup Chicken for the Dyslexic's Soul."

TSOI: Periodically you hold short story contests on your website. Why? Do you get a lot of entries, and what are the prizes?

JAK: There aren't many short story markets anymore, and most contests have a submission fee. My contest is free, and first prize is fifty bucks and a free book. I've gotten a few hundred entries. Lots of talent out there. Many of the submitters are better writers than I am. But that's really not that hard to do.

TSOI: You are the poster child for perseverance having written nine unpublished novels before you hit with Whiskey Sour. Did you publish any short stories before you got Whiskey Sour accepted?

JAK: Nope. Whiskey Sour was the first thing I've sold. Since then, I've sold about two dozen shorts. And three pairs of pants.

TSOI: Do you see your short stories as a way to promote your novels or yourself?

JAK: Short stories are the best form of advertising. Not only are they cost-free, but a big magazine like Alfred Hitchcock has a circulation of 300,000. How else could I get that many people to see my name? Other than renting a billboard on I-90?

Another good promo idea is to tattoo you book cover on your wife's forehead while she's asleep. Plus, that's a tax write-off.

TSOI: Do you have any more Jack Daniels short stories in the pipeline?

JAK: Jack has another story called WITH A TWIST coming out this summer in EQMM. Her sidekick, Phineas Troutt, also has an EQMM story coming out soon called SUFFER. Plus Phin and Harry McGlade (also from the series) have some shorts on submission to various mags and anthos. I try to always have five to ten stories on submission.

TSOI: Do you outline for either short stories or novels? If yes, to what level of detail?

JAK: For novels, I have to outline because my publisher requires it. If I had my way, I wouldn't outline. For short stories, never. Sometimes I'll jot down notes. The new Jack story is a locked room mystery, and it has about twenty clues in it to help the reader figure out the ending. I needed to preplan those clues perfore I tackled the story.

Hmm. That answer really wasn't very funny. Here's another poem:

I am choking on a yak!
I am choking on a yak!
Please somebody hit me!
On the back!
Yak yak!

Hmm. That really wasn't very funny either.

TSOI: You inject a lot of humor into your stories, though few or none could be considered humorous. Do you think that helps sell your stuff?

JAK: Life is pretty hard, and laughter is always good. That's why I often visit nursing homes and point at the sick old people and just laugh and laugh and laugh. I'm sure it makes them feel better.

TSOI: You mentioned in your interview on Writer's Roundtable (BTW, I listened to the WHOLE two hours) that you have a numerical basis for determining if your work has reached a level of quality suitable to be sent out into the world. Can you give us a brief explanation of that and/or a place where we can learn more about it?

JAK: You listened to the whole two hours? I was the one interviewed, and I didn't even listen to the whole two hours. Did I look fat?

To answer your question, you can learn to critique your own stories by using a point scale. There's a free download on my website explaining it here: http://www.jakonrath.com/tips6.html. It works pretty well--many of my students at the college where I teach have used it with some degree of success.

TSOI: You were pretty intimately involved in the audiobook version of Whiskey Sour including voicing one of the minor (but in a major way) characters and in reading one of your short stories which was included as a bonus. Was that a lot of fun? Do you like listening to fiction? Would you like to see (hear) audio short stories become more available on the web?

JAK: I love audiobooks. They're like getting a massage--pleasurable without having to make an effort. I'm going back to Brilliance Audio and doing the same thing with Bloody Mary, the second Jack book.

The more audio, the better.

Don't listen to erotica on audio, though. You can get an ear infection.

TSOI: BTW, Whiskey Sour is not available on Audible.com. You ought to have a serious talk with Brilliance (publisher of the Whiskey Sour audiobook) about that.

JAK: I'll get my beating stick and whap some heads.

TSOI: You teach writing, I understand, and, unusually in my experience, you teach courses in how to get an agent and marketing. Is marketing more important in getting an agent or in getting a publisher?

JAK: Get the agent first. Many publishers won't even ocnsider your work unless you're represented. How I got an agent (after 450 rejections) is also a fee download on my site. Basically, you market yourself to the agent the same way the publishers market books to consumers.

Fed-Exing an agent a box full of cash also works.

TSOI: What do you think about the future of the short story?

JAK: Eventually, they'll be available as pills. You'll eat one, and the whole story will unfold in your head.

Just be careful you don't mix genres, like taking a Harlan Ellison with a Larry Block. Major bad trip, man.

TSOI: The sequel to Whiskey Sour, Bloody Mary, is due out in June. What is your favorite part of the new book?

JAK: Whiskey Sour was very much a formula book. This one is not. No one will guess the ending. No one will even guess the middle.

There's also more humor. And absolutely zero poetry.

TSOI: Do you have any other thoughts you'd like to share with us on short stories or writing in particular?

JAK: 1. Write everyday.
2. Finish what you start.
3. Submit what you finish.
4. Repeat.

And make sure you study your market, and read the magazines you submit to. It's the main reason for rejections. That, and your story probably stinks, and you have no talent.

But don't let lack of talent stop you. It sure didn't stop me.

This was fun. But next time, I get to ask the questions.

TSOI: Thanks for taking the time to put up with me, Joe. And for all my faithful readers, buy Joe’s books and read his stories. You’ll thank me. And him. (I highly recommend Joe's Tips section on his website. You'll learn something, I promise.)

Mr. Gray's Folly by John Connolly

2005-03-19T09:18:00.000-07:00

“Mr. Gray’s Folly” by John Connolly, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

This story takes place in England. At least I think it’s England. An apparently well-to-do man and his wife, Edgar and Eleanor Merriman, have purchased an estate, Norton Hall, in the countryside. It’s a beautiful place, late Eighteenth Century construction, sculptured gardens and fifty acres of land. Unfortunately there is a structure on the grounds, a folly (I assume that to be something along the lines of a gazebo), which is horrendously ugly. It also produces a feeling of unease in those who linger in its vicinity. A previous owner, Mr. J. F. Gray, had it constructed as a memorial to his wife.

Norton Hall has an unsavory history. The prior owner, Mr. Ellis, committed suicide after his wife disappeared. Speculation abounds about where Mrs. Ellis went, if, indeed, she went anywhere.

Almost from the first day, Eleanor Merriman has wanted the folly demolished. Edgar is inclined to agree, but just can’t seem to bring himself to have it done. One day while sitting in the folly Edgar sees a man come out of the woods. He stands a distance away and speaks. Edgar can’t hear him, but he knows what he is saying: “Let the folly be.”

Meanwhile Edgar notices a change in Eleanor. She seems to be losing weight to the point of gauntness.

Later Edgar finds a handwritten journal in the library, “A Middle-Eastern Journey by J. F. Gray.” In it Gray tells of a trip to Syria during which he found and stole a reliquary containing the bones of Lilith, Adam’s first wife. Lilith was reputed to be a demon, the symbol of the male fear of ultimate female power. The journal goes on to tell about his wife’s decline in health and the reliquary’s role in her ultimate demise. Eleanor is showing the same symptoms as Mrs. Gray.

Mr. Connolly has given his inclination toward the supernatural full rein with this story. It’s a bit formulaic. In fact I could see this story as part of the H. P. Lovecraft canon. But it is well written and kept my interest.

In short, a fun story.

Her Lord and Master by Andrew Klavan

2005-03-18T06:01:00.000-07:00

“Her Lord and Master” by Andrew Klavan, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

The friend of a man who gets involved with a dangerous woman tells this story. Jim starts seeing Susan, a little inter-office romance. Susan likes it rough and that disturbs Jim a little. He talks to his friend who tells him to relax and enjoy. He’s getting a rare treat.

As Jim and Susan become more intimate, more comfortable with each other, Susan asks him to get rougher, spanking her with a wooden spoon, and worse. Susan always scripts their encounters. Jim keeps his friend up to date on their love life.

Then one day Susan kills Jim with a kitchen knife. Since Susan’s body is pretty well covered in bruises of various types and ages, the police and the public begin to make Jim out as the bad guy. Jim’s friend doesn’t like that and makes an appointment to talk to the police about what Jim told him. But before he can do that, he gets a visit from Susan. She’s smart; she’s seductive; she’s manipulative. Will he actually go to the police?

That’s pretty much the plot. Not much there, but the attraction of this story lies more in the telling than in what is told. This is the first time I’ve read anything by Klavan. I really like the conversational tone he used and the way he toys with the language.

In short, this won’t be the last thing by Andrew Klavan I read.

What She Offered by Thomas H. Cook

2005-03-17T06:10:00.000-07:00

“What She Offered” by Thomas H. Cook, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

The main character in this offering is a moderately successful writer of noir fiction. The story opens with him living his normal life, confusing that with the lives his characters live. He mopes through the New York bar scene sure that he knows things that the people around him, loving, fighting, working through their lives, don’t.

He tells this story to a friend of his, how he met a dangerous woman. This woman came into the bar he frequents dressed elegantly all in black unrelieved except for a simple string of pearls. He notices her, and she him. She sends him a note: “I know what you know about life.”

This starts a short exchange of note-writing that ends with them talking. She knows who he is, has read his books. She wants to commit suicide, thinks it is the only thing to do for people that feel as she does, and as she believes he does. But she doesn’t want to do it alone. She wants him to fall in love with her. There isn’t time to do it the old-fashioned way, so she wants to skip the courtship and start with a roll in the hay. He is intrigued, so he goes home with her.

There he learns about her husband, as plain as she is beautiful. He has been dead three years, and was the love of her life. He suffered greatly from cancer, so greatly that ultimately she euthanized him with a pillow. Now it’s time to end her suffering.

They have sex, and she goes to get the pills. They continue to talk, and she tells him a truth that changes his whole view of his life, what he thought he knew better than everyone else in the world.

The story is well worth reading in spite of one quibble I have. When they arrive at her apartment, they have a drink then get undressed and get into bed. Remember, this is a very beautiful woman. They get into bed, naked, and lie there talking for a while before they begin doing what they got in bed to do. I’m sorry, but, speaking as a guy, there would have been no talking before the sex. Think about it. Here is a guy that has been lured to a beautiful stranger’s apartment for the express purpose of having sex and, incidentally, committing suicide, though he really doesn’t believe that part. He’s been drinking all evening, though not heavily, he had another drink at her apartment, and they have just undressed in front of each other and climbed into bed. There would have been NO TALKING!

In short, in spite of that one quibble, a good story.

Shred Of Evidence Readers' Choice Award

2005-03-16T16:36:00.000-07:00

The 2004 Readers' Choice Award have been announced by Megan Powell over at Shred Of Evidence. This award means a lot because it is the readers that make the choice.

1st Place (tie): "Game On" by Iain Rowan
1st Place (tie): "Officer Down" by Stephen D. Rogers
3rd Place (tie): "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place for Murder" by Tim Wohlforth
3rd Place (tie): "A Little Trouble" by Gerald So
3rd Place (tie): "Seductive Barry" by Ray Banks

Congratulations to all the winners. And congratulations to Megan Powell for having one of the best ezines on the web.

Rendezvous by Nelson DeMille

2005-03-16T06:14:00.000-07:00

“Rendezvous” by Nelson DeMille, Dangerous Women Edited by Otto Penzler, Mysterious Press, Trade Paperback, $13.95

I’ve always enjoyed Nelson DeMille’s books, so I couldn’t wait to read this story. According to Penzler this is his first short story in 25 years.

The place is Vietnam, not long before we pulled out. The main character is an American infantry lieutenant on the last mission of his tour leading a ten-man Lurp (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol). These guys spend two weeks out in Indian Country sneaky-footing it around counting enemy noses, hopefully without being seen or heard.

About ten days into the mission they come across an area that had been hit by a napalm strike. The place is littered with incinerated vehicles and crispy critters, human remains. They are supposed to count the vehicles and bodies. The problem is, the napalm strike destroyed all the cover; they are exposed. Suddenly both radiomen go down, without a sound. Sniper! Snipers are particularly nasty, because you never know where they are or who’s going to be the next target.

Both radios are destroyed. One round each took out the radios and severed the spines of the men carrying them. The lieutenant is puzzled because snipers usually like to take out the leadership first. Snipers also like to play mind games with their targets.

Now the patrol has no way to contact their command, so the lieutenant decides to make for one of the pickup points, Rendezvous Alpha, prearranged for just such an eventuality. Alpha is three days away from their present position. Along the way the sniper keeps knocking off two men at a time. The lieutenant gets a glimpse of this sniper on two occasions. It’s a young woman.

She keeps whittling away at the team until there is just the lieutenant and a sergeant left as they approach Rendezvous Alpha. The lieutenant thinks she is going to let one of them live to go back and tell the story. More mind games. But he doesn’t know which one. Then the choppers show up. It looks like they might both get out after all. Or not.

For a man that hasn’t written a short story in 25 years, DeMille does a terrific job. Characterization and description are bang on. The two scenes where the lieutenant is able to see the sniper are not to be missed.

In short, exciting.

The P&G Ivory Cut-Whiskey Massacree by Craig Holden

2005-03-15T06:04:00.000-07:00

“The P&G Ivory Cut-Whiskey Massacree” By Craig Holden, Murder and All That Jazz, Robert J. Randisi, ed., Signet Books, $6.99, Mass Market Paperback.

In his introduction Randisi mentions that this story was cut from a novel called the Jazz Bird and was based on actual events in 1927 Cincinnati. That’s unfortunate.

The story is about a gang war between a bunch run by a man named Remus (We never get to know his first name. Probably have to read the book.), and another gang led by Fat Wrassman over a bootlegging operation. The Wrassman gang tries to wipe out the Remus operation one night, but gets surprised and shot up pretty bad.

Remus’ lieutenant, Jew John Marcus, starts trying to find out what’s going on by torturing the guy that was supposed to be on guard when the Wrassman bunch attacked. The story is that Al Capone is trying to muscle his way into the Cincinnati bootlegging scene by tying up with Wrassman. Remus takes this as a personal insult and tells Jew John to put a stop to it. On a lucky drive through the city, Jew John sees a car full of Wrassman men and follows it to a speakeasy where they’ve been laying low.

All he’s got on him is a .32 pocket pistol, so he goes to a hardware store and buys a deer rifle. He returns to the speak and shoots the place up killing five men. When asked how he intends to get rid of the bodies, Marcus comes up with an inventive way.

Earlier I said it was unfortunate that the story was based on true events and taken from a novel. By that I meant that we get very little background and no character development. That’s always a danger when you take a story from a chapter of a novel or base a story on historical events. In this case Mr. Holden did both. Because he took the viewpoint of Jew John Marcus, a participant, the story is moderately more interesting than reading a historical account. But not much.

In short, maybe the book is better.

Why Read Short Stories?

2005-03-14T06:14:00.000-07:00

First there is the obvious. They are short. They don’t take a lot of time to read, and, for me, they are perfect for work breaks and lunch.

Most of us, when we read fiction, read to be entertained. We want something that will take us away from the daily grind, something different. But, to be honest, for me entertainment is only part of it. The bigger part, I think, is getting to feel something.

The majority of what I read, even the stories that I enjoy, is not memorable. These are the stories by the good journeyman writers, the people that have command of the English language and the structure of the short story. I enjoy those stories; they entertain me. But they don’t stay with me more than a few days.

It’s the stories that stay with me that keep me reading short fiction. Some stories evoke a sense of “how’d they do that?” Candace Wiggins’ “Nice Tie” and Ray Banks’ “Seductive Barry” will stay with me for a long time.

Other stories evoke strong emotion. Write a story that makes me laugh, cry, or share the anger of a character, and those will become part of my life. Steve Hockensmith’s “Red Christmas” made me laugh out loud. I’ll remember that as I will the two elves, Hank and Frank, AKA Ribbons and Bows. Dave White’s “God’s Dice” brought tears to my eyes (for the right reasons). Those are the stories that stay with me.

In every case it’s the characters that make stories memorable to me. You can’t make people feel emotion unless you can make them care about your characters.

Of course novelists can do the same thing. The difference, I think, is that in a novel the sheer weight of everything else that has to happen to fill out 80,000 to 120,000 words dilutes the impact of the emotional moments. In a short story you don’t have all that chaff. The emotion takes center stage.

You have to read a lot to come across these gems. But, in the end, it’s worth it.

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties. Please Stand By.

2005-03-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

I hate Windows 98SE!

Unfortunately my primary computer is a Toshiba laptop with 192 MB RAM, a 6-gig hard drive, running (wait for it!) Windows 98SE. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t get The Blue Screen of Death and have to restart, often two or three times. It has become one of those things I live with – like chronic pain.

Yesterday I did a stupid thing. I downloaded one of those updates MS is always telling you is essential to the security and well-being of your computer and, thus, your life. After installing it I shut the computer down to have breakfast. When I got back to it an hour or so later, it wouldn’t start. It would do one of three things: give me The Blue Screen of Death; give me an attractive blank screen that faded from almost black in the upper right corner to a light gray in the lower left corner; or give me my normal desktop only in a two-by-two tiled array with a strip of rainbow colors between the upper row and the lower row. In each case I had to turn the computer off.

I had no clue as to what was going on. (Yeah, yeah. I know. I was having one of my dense days.) I have been expecting this computer to crash beyond resurrection for some time now, so I figured this was it. Then I discovered I could start it in Safe Mode. Cool! I could plug in my thumb drive, download all my newest files, reformat the hard drive and reinstall Windows.

Those of you more familiar with the inner workings of Windows than I might have already known that while operating in Safe Mode the USB ports do not work. Thus I could not, in one easy, quick operation, dump my files to the thumb drive.

Fine.

My computer doesn’t have a CD writer, so I’ll zip my files to the floppy. Thirty-some-odd floppies later, I’m as done as I have the patience to be. Now I slip my Windows 98SE CD into the computer preparatory to reformatting the hard drive. Guess what? In Safe Mode the CD drive doesn’t work either!

Now what?

Nursing a hypertensive headache I decide to make some popcorn and watch “Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon” with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. This is part of a 10-movie set that I got at Best Buy for about fourteen bucks. Well worth the money.

I suppose watching The Great Detective at work influenced me. When I returned to the computer, I remembered the old saw, “When your computer doesn’t work after installing new software, the most common cause is the new software.” Blinding insight! All I had to do was uninstall those nasty Windows updates. But how?

I knew it couldn’t be as simple as going into Control Panel and clicking on Add/Remove Software, but what the hell. I gave it a try. Lo and behold, there they were! Those insidious updates were listed plain as could be in the software roster. Quick as a bunny I uninstalled those suckers and rebooted. On the second reboot I knew things were back to normal. On the third reboot everything came up and worked. Hallelujah!

At that point I wanted nothing more to do with computers for the rest of the day.

I hate Windows 98SE.

Computer Crash

2005-03-12T15:18:00.000-07:00

Sorry about no posting today. Working through a computer crash. Maybe tomorrow.

A Matter of Policy by D. H. Reddall

2005-03-11T06:21:00.000-07:00

“A Matter of Policy” by D. H. Reddall, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, April 2005

This story begins with Cape Cod PI Charles Stubblefield being hired by the attorney of accused murderer Ross Moody to establish an alibi for Moody. It seems that Moody, a mid-fifties degenerate drunk living on the street, killed a man, Frank Catlett, twenty years younger than him by throwing him through a plate-glass window, cut his throat with a glass shard, robbed him, staggered a few yards down the street and passed out. Moody’s blood alcohol level at the time was 0.28. Not unexpectedly, Moody doesn’t remember much about that night, but he thinks he was drinking at the Hollywood Lounge.

The whole scenario sounds pretty unlikely, so Stubblefield takes the case. In his initial investigation he can find a lot of people who know Moody, but no one who can establish his whereabouts the evening of the murder including the bartender at the Hollywood Lounge. Then Stubblefield runs into Sweeps, another street person, a sober one, who knows where Moody was on the evening in question. Moody was with a man named Jimmy Tagg, bad company, she says, and Moody was drinking heavily on Tagg’s dime.

Stubblefield heads back to the Hollywood Lounge and, with a little physical persuasion, induces the bartender to confirm Sweeps’ story. Tagg is an associate of a crooked lawyer named Bruno Fetter. Stubblefield knows something funny is going on, but he doesn’t know what.

About this time Stubblefield is visited by a sixth-grade teacher who believes her mother was cheated in an insurance settlement. Traditionally hard on the outside and soft on the inside, Stubblefield takes the case. He discovers that the Little Old Lady’s lawyer was the recently deceased Frank Catlett. This sends him sniffing around the insurance company, which leads him ultimately to all the answers about both cases.

The story is well written, interesting and has a pretty complex plot. What it also has is a lot of coincidence. Stubblefield doesn’t go looking for Sweeps, she finds him. And the schoolteacher, the one who finally sends him in the right direction, seems to drop in out the clear blue sky. The Greeks had a phrase for this, deus ex machina. Something modern writers are supposed to avoid. Would that Mr. Reddall had done so.

In short, I wish Mr. Reddall had been able to let Stubblefield do more of his own work.

FMAM, We Hardly Knew Ye

2005-03-10T06:10:00.000-07:00

Plus ça change, plus la méme chose.

The quote above, recalled from high-school French class, was brought to mind recently by the announcement that Babs Lakey's Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine was no more. Of course we had known that for some months now, but there had been the promise of one last gargantuan issue publishing all the stories they had in their inventory. Late last week Babs announced that even that issue was not to be. Thus one more paying market for short stories is now sleeping under a dirt blanket.

Such things are to be expected. Even during the heyday of magazine publishing (whenever that was) putting out a print zine was an iffy proposition. There is a long list of people who want money: editors, office staff, typesetters, printers, paper suppliers, truckers, ink suppliers, photographers, artists, office rent, office supplies, telephone bills, the United States Post Office. Let’s see, did I forget anyone? Oh, yeah! The writers.

If you’re just starting up, there is a long period of time when you are laying out money without much, if any, coming in. Of course you have the advertisers, but because it is a startup there aren’t many, and they don’t have to pay much.

And then you have to get people to buy the magazine, because that is the fount of the bulk of your income, the readers. But before people can buy the magazine, they have to know about it. That means advertising (PROMOTION), another money pit. You have to attract subscribers because they will provide most of your income. Then you have to get the magazines on the stands, because you can’t make it just on the money you get from subscriptions.

To get the magazines on the stands, you have to deal with distributors. Like every other business, there are some good ones and some not so good ones. The good ones pay you, but often not for 60 or 90 days. The not so good ones take much, much longer to give you your money – if they ever do. And the amount of money you get depends on how good a job they do on getting your magazine on a wide variety of retail racks. In this you are completely at their mercy. A bad distributor could break you.

As I said, none of this is new. Those who brave the stormy waters to put out a print zine are among the bravest of the brave. More magazines fail than see their third year anniversary. So we see them come and go. But whenever one fails, you can usually bet there’s another one in the wings, waiting to make it’s debut. Hope springs eternal.

So, vaya con Dios, Babs. We enjoyed having you with us. May you enjoy your less “interesting” life.

So. Who’s next?

The Safest Place on Earth by Mark Best

2005-03-09T06:12:00.000-07:00

"The Safest Place on Earth" by Mark Best, Thrilling Detective, Spring 2005

Fourteen year old Chastity Reiling has disappeared. Dan Brogan, ex-FBI agent and current private investigator, has been hired to find her. Unfortunately the parents just received a note stating that the girl had been kidnapped, no ransom demand, just the information. Now the FBI is involved, and the agent in charge, Stultz, doesn't like PIs in general and Brogan in particular.

After a short introduction that occurs right after the FBI have arrived on scene, we flash back to when and why Brogan was hired. During this backgrounding working up to where the intro left off, we learn that the girl’s father, Cameron Reiling, is a very powerful man with the arrogance to go along with it. While trying to hire Brogan, Reiling gets crosswise with him, and Brogan walks out. Mrs. Reiling has been eavesdropping, apparently not for the first or last time. She stops Brogan and hires him herself.

This brings us back to the present. Along with the FBI Brogan goes to interview Chastity’s boyfriend, Matt, again. During this interview they discover that Matt and Chastity’s best friend, Ashley, are engaging in a little slap-and-tickle, and have been for a while. This makes Matt a prime suspect.

Soon the body of a young girl is found. She’s been dead a while, but she is identified as Chastity Reiling. The state of decomposition proves that she was dead before the Reilings received the kidnapping note. This gives Stultz the ammunition to finally freeze Brogan out of the case. But Brogan has other avenues to follow. He gets a copy of the ME’s report and finds out that Chastity was two month’s pregnant. This information and one other bit lead him to the murderer.

Brogan is a likable guy. I’d like to see more of him. I enjoyed the story, but I have one quibble. The identity of the murderer wasn’t terribly shocking or surprising. Five years ago, the shock value would have been higher. The ending is a bit different, though, well set up with the character and actions of Mrs. Reiling.

In short, a good story.

Rejected Writers Magazine

2005-03-08T18:58:00.000-07:00

There's a new player in town, Rejected Writers Magazine. They are brand new and just open for submissions with their first issue scheduled for June. It's kind of a unique twist on a fiction zine in that they will only consider stories that have been rejected by someone else. You even have to submit a copy of the rejection letter with the story before they will consider publishing it. Zowie! Talk about being literal. Other than that, they are open to any genre. And to stimulate submissions they are holding a contest with $100 first prize and cash prizes for 2nd and 3rd place. AND THERE IS NO ENTRY FEE! All the stories are eligible for publication in the zine.

The website is really attractive and well organized. Drop over and check out their Guidelines and FAQ. And start digging out those rejection slips.

Net Money, Part -- Whatever

2005-03-08T05:49:00.000-07:00

So far I've talked about making money (or not) on the Internet with advertising, subscriptions, individual sales, begging, and sponsorships. I've also at least mentioned the merchandising route, selling coffee cups, t-shirts, ball caps, etc. with your very own logo on them. Those are the traditional means of generating income.

There are some people out there, Dave Winer, Robert Scoble, Adam Curry, Hugh Macleod and others (ubergeeks, all) who are saying, "This is a brand new medium (relatively speaking). Why should we be constrained by the old forms of commercialization? Throw out all the old business models. Invent new ones." Unfortunately these guys get all fuzzy and insubstantial at that point. I haven't yet seen a concrete proposal for one of these new business models.

I actually heard one of these neo-tech evangelists suggest that if you get out there onto the net with your best stuff, eventually money will come to you. I call that the "Field of Dreams Approach," build it and they will come. Yeah. You bet. Ask Dave Zeltserman, Megan Powell, Kevin Burton Smith and the other publishers of the online zines how well that approach works.

The Internet is changing constantly. Attitudes are changing. People are starting to accept the fact that if they want quality information or entertainment, they are going to have to pay for it.

Stop that! Right now! I said people are STARTING to accept.

But don't forget, we're operating on Internet Time with this stuff. A long time for the Internet is a blink of the eye out here in the real world.

So, what kind of new business models can we develop? Beats the hell out of me. At least right now. But rest assured, someone is going to come up with something. Might be you, might be me, might be that old guy and his dog, Browser, on the commercial. Someone will do it.

I believe it is possible to make money on the net, but in order to do so you have to actually DO SOMETHING to make it happen. I continue to believe that the key to the whole thing is promotion. Part of promotion is building relationships, connections to the people who want what you have. Try something new.

Short story writers have had some success in getting panel discussions dedicated to short stories scheduled for some of the mystery conventions. What about doing the same thing for zines? Beat someone on the Bouchercon committee about the head and shoulders until they agree to put Dave Z., Megan, KBS, Anthony Neil Smith, Trevor Mavianno, and whoever else you can come up with in a room with a bunch of fans and writers. It couldn't hurt.

Everyone who reads this blog has demonstrated by their very presence here that they are intelligent, creative and damn good-looking to boot. Someone can make this work. Why not you?

Not for Love nor Money by Robin Wilson

2005-03-07T05:43:00.000-07:00

"Not for Love nor Money" by Robin Wilson, Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

People, mostly academics, say that academics can generate the greatest feuds over the tiniest excuses. This story uses that concept as its basis.

Dr. Peter Haas, middle-aged English professor at Greenfield State University, enjoys the position of official troubleshooter for the University's President. As such the beautiful Naomi Cordier, Associate Professor of Dance, approaches him when her beau, Harrison Buckman, becomes the victim of a beating, sustaining the most damage to his right arm and hand. This is significant because Buckman runs a nanotechnology lab, and manual dexterity is important to him.

Buckman doesn't want Naomi to call the police, but she has to do something. She brings Peter to see Buckman who tells him that he suspects Naomi's ex, Joe Hayden, Professor of Art and former NFL player, because of an old Oakland Raiders bag the assailant left behind. Buckman wants to handle the problem himself for several reasons. He doesn't want to upset Naomi by accusing her ex. Also if the story of a violent love triangle hit the papers, Buckman's reputation would be injured as would his position as the top receiver of grant money in the whole of the University.

Peter goes to report to the President who gives him the go ahead to get involved. His next stop is Joe Hayden, who rather quickly convinces him that he had nothing to do with the assault. Now Peter has to go back to Naomi and Buckman to figure out who else might have wanted to disable Buckman.

A little thought and discussion bring to light the most likely suspect, and Peter has to figure out a way to resolve the situation quietly with no damage to the reputations of the people involved or the University itself.

This is a good workmanlike story, no major speed bumps or logic holes or character inconsistencies, but it's all rather bland, kind of like a mayonnaise sandwich. I keep asking myself, "Where's the beef?" Maybe it's the academic setting or the fact that most of the important action takes place off-stage.

In short, I feel like there should be more.

Validation by Stephen D. Rogers

2005-03-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

“Validation” by Stephen D. Rogers, Thrilling Detective, Spring 2005

What can I say about Stephen D. Rogers. The man is a short story writing machine, turning them out like clockwork. And so far every one I’ve read I’ve liked.

In “Validation” the main character is an unnamed PI that does pre-employment background checks. One of his clients has asked him to do a check on a janitor. That lit a small red light for our hero. Prior to this Javelin Networks HR Director, Andrea Cleig, had never asked for a check on anyone below senior manager level. When he calls her on it, she gives him a thin excuse. Because that’s what he does for a living, our hero hitches up his belt and gets to work. But he still wonders about the real reason for this assignment.

The janitor, John Beamer, had one year of college with good grades, before he dropped out to enter the world of physical labor for the next seven or so years. Everything he entered on his employment application checks out, but our hero delves deeper. He finds a secretary at the college John attended who remembers him. It seems that John left under a cloud after an incident at a dorm party involving him, two other guys, and a girl. The incident was hushed up by the college, but our intrepid PI winnows out the truth and the real explanation for his assignment.

Mr. Rogers has done his usual fine job with “Validation,” well-written and easy to read. He’s packed a lot into a relatively short story. Our hero feels a little used at the end, but after all, isn’t that what PI’s are for, to be used by the clients for their own ends?

In short, an enjoyable, quick read.

Steve Hockensmith Interview

2005-03-05T06:33:00.000-07:00

TSOI: Our guest today is Steve Hockensmith. Steve is a journalist and short story writer with many short stories published in both Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Just recently he signed a book deal with St. Martin's that has allowed him to quit his day job. Steve, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?

SH: I started out as a journalist, which was (as far as I could figure) the only viable way to be a writer and (sort of) make a living. I've done a lot of entertainment journalism over the years, and I recently launched a TV/film column called "Reel Crime" in Alfred Hitchcock, which is a ton of fun. In between journalism gigs, I've done communications work for two national nonprofit organizations: the YMCA of the USA and the Animal Legal Defense Fund. Writing about pop culture is a blast, but I'm really glad I spent at least part of my career working with folks who are actually making the world a better place.

TSOI: Do you think that your short story writing helped you get in the door at St. Martin's?

SH: Not really. The fine folks at St. Martin's made an offer on the basis of the book they were presented with, HOLMES ON THE RANGE, not my previous writing credits (which I doubt they were even familiar with). But that's not to say my short fiction didn't play a critical role in getting me where I am now (wherever that is). For one thing, I have a fantastic agent, Elyse Cheney, thanks to a story that appeared in Alfred Hitchcock a couple years back. Elyse saw the story, wrote to ask if I had a novel to show her, and ended up working closely with me to whip HOLMES into shape. And I wouldn't have even started HOLMES if it weren't for Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. The novel's heroes, a couple of cowboys named Big Red and Old Red Amlingmeyer, first appeared in EQMM, and if I hadn't enjoyed writing that story so much (and found such a good home for it) I wouldn't have written HOLMES. On top of all that, I didn't even try writing a novel until I was confident I had the necessary skills -- skills I developed over the course of four or five years spent exclusively on short fiction.

So did my short story writing help me get in the door at St. Martin's? You bet!

Wait...did I just contradict myself?

TSOI: What do you think about the conventional wisdom that humor doesn't sell?

SH: It depends on the market you're looking at. When it comes to novels, the CW seems to be right. I asked a similar question of Bill Fitzhugh once, and his answer was, "You bet your ass humor's a tough sell, but you gotta write what you gotta write. If you enjoy writing humor, if you think you're good at it, then don't give up." On the other hand, I once got a ding letter from an agent who told me, "You're not funny, and if your name's not Hiaasen or Westlake you've got no business trying to be funny." In other words, give up. I think HOLMES ON THE RANGE dances around this particular minefield because it's not meant to be a comedy-mystery -- it's a mystery that, as an added bonus, just happens to be funny. At least that's how I see it.

When it comes to genre short fiction -- and here's one of the many reasons to love genre short fiction -- the conventional wisdom doesn't apply at all. You'll find humorous stories in EQMM and AHMM (and Analog, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction and Asimov's) all the time, and folks like James Powell and Ron Goulart have been selling humorous short fiction for years. Which isn't to say selling a (supposedly) funny story is going to be easy. Writers who want to take a stab at humor should keep in mind that (A) not all editors have the same sense of humor, (B) not all editors have your sense of humor and (C) not all editors have any sense of humor. But, as a wise man once said, if you enjoy writing humor, if you think you're good at it, then don't give up. I don't recall offhand where that quote's from, but I think it's good advice.

TSOI: What pointers or tricks-of-the-trade would you give someone who wants to write a humorous story?

SH: "Don't try too hard" would be my first bit of advice. You can be funny without being ZANY! or WACKY!. Droll is good. Dry is nice. I wish more people would give wit a try. Then again, this is coming from a guy who recently wrote a KOOKY! story for AHMM about Soviet spies kidnapping Santa Claus, so maybe I'm being a hypocrite. Let's move on.

I would beg anyone who's thinking of writing a hardboiled private eye parody or pastiche to reconsider. Please. Maybe it was still funny the third time they parodied The Maltese Falcon on Your Show of Shows, but ever since then the "Sam Shovel, P.I." shtick has been pretty tired. Then again, this is coming from a guy who recently wrote a hardboiled private eye parody (or, to be more precise, a parody of hardboiled private eye pastiches) for an MWA anthology, so maybe I'm being a hypocrite. Let's move on.

I would advise genre writers shooting for humor not to go for laughs at the expense of the plot or characters. Have a real story to tell -- even if it's damn silly -- and don't fall into the easy trap of making everyone a contemptible clod. Yes, contemptible clods can be funny, but a universe populated with nothing but contemptible clods isn't funny -- it's actually kind of depressing. If you've ever been to West Virginia, you know exactly what I'm talking about. (Just kidding, Mountain State! A big shout out to all my homies back in Matewan, Fraziers Bottom and Droop!) Anyway, as this is advice I think I actually stick to pretty consistently, maybe I ought to stop here.

TSOI: What's different about writing a novel as opposed to writing a short story? Aside from the length.

SH: In all honesty, I think I've reached a point where it really is just the length. Instead of getting better and better at firing off tight-as-a-preacher's-sphincter 3,000-word gems, my stories have been growing longer and more sprawling -- in other words, more like novels. (By the way, just kidding, Protestant spiritual leaders! A big shout out to all my homies back at the Bob Jones University divinity school!) I've had really good luck selling 12,000-14,000 word novelettes, but I wouldn't recommend that anyone else give it a try -- that kind of length is going to make breaking in pretty tough. Hell, I should knock it off myself...I just can't seem to.

That's probably not a very helpful answer, so let me give it another whack. Short stories give you the freedom to tackle stories, characters and styles that would wear out their welcome at a longer length. The aforementioned Santa kidnapping story, for instance -- it's good fun for 6,000 words or so, but 80,000? There might be a writer who could sustain that kind of silliness over that length (Paging Christopher Moore!) but it sure isn't me. I have a series character in AHMM, a semi-retired detective named Larry Erie, that I've thought about using in a novel, but I'm not sure if anyone could stand him for 400 pages. I mean, I love the guy, but he's a complete mope.

In addition, I've found that novels aren't just longer than short stories, but wider, too.

TSOI: Which would you rather write, novels or short stories?

SH: You've seen those dorky "I'd rather be -- " bumper stickers, right? "I'd rather be sailing." "I'd rather be knitting." "I'd rather be strangling squirrels." Well, I guess mine would say, "I'd rather be writing short stories." If short fiction were a viable career path for anyone other than Ed Hoch, I'd be on it in a heartbeat. Writing a novel can be fun, no doubt, but for me it starts to feel like a death march somewhere around month four. Typically, it takes me two to four weeks to write a short story, and when I finish I don't feel burnt out -- I'm excited about moving on to the next story. The idea of endless variety (a third-person procedural this month, a first-person satire next month, etc.) is really appealing to me. It's comforting to know that, no matter what happens to my career as a novelist, I'll always be able to write and sell short fiction.

TSOI: Now that we've gotten the obligatory short story stuff out of the way, tell us about the novels you're working on.

SH: Ahhh, an opportunity to plug! Thank you! First off, as someone who's doing his best to master the fine art of BSP, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that my first novel, HOLMES ON THE RANGE, will be out from St. Martin's Minotaur first quarter '06 -- reserve your copy today! (Gee, why do I feel the sudden need to shower?) I've been collecting research material for the sequel since November, and though I've had a rough idea of the plot for months I only started officially outlining it this week. Like the first book, the sequel will be a whodunit set in the Wild West. There'll be a lot of humor and action, as well as tips of the Stetson to Old School masters like Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. I should have a first draft done by the fall, and in between revisions I'm hoping to pull out something completely different -- a contemporary satirical thriller that's been sitting in a drawer for a few years -- and give it a polish. I have another sequel to HOLMES ON THE RANGE due in about two years, and I'm already thinking about the plot for that, as well. So I've obviously got a lot going on -- but I'll keep squeezing short stories in whenever I can!

TSOI: Do you have anything else you'd like to say about short stories?

SH: As for my final thoughts on short fiction, let's give this a shot. Short stories give writers license to experiment. The marketing pressures just aren't the same as they are with novels. A magazine or anthology isn't going to live or die on the basis of one story, so an editor can take a chance on something offbeat. Novels are a much riskier, much more expensive proposition -- anything that doesn't fit neatly into a niche is going to be a tough sell, and editors' careers are riding on the writers they throw their weight behind. So short story writers should really take advantage of the freedom they've been blessed with. James Powell does some wild, wacky stuff in EQMM. R.T. Lawton writes stories for AHMM that are incredibly varied in setting and style. Rob Lopresti and Mat Coward and Bob Levinson never give you the same thing twice. There are half a dozen other writers I could name here. They've got the right idea. Surprise the editor. Surprise the audience. Surprise yourself. That's what short stories allow you to do.

TSOI: Thanks a lot for your time, Steve, and good luck with the novel.

Interview with Steve Hockensmith Tomorrow

2005-03-04T11:34:00.000-07:00

Re: Your Murder by Christopher Gooch

2005-03-04T06:18:00.000-07:00

“Re: Your Murder” by Christopher Gooch, Thrilling Detective, Spring 2005

Mr. Gooch wrote this story in the form of a report from a detective agency to a client. Something out of the ordinary, to be sure.

It seems that Derek Smyth hired Bob Durkin, of Durkin Confidential Investigations, to find out who was trying to murder him. Mr. Smyth had received a threatening note followed the next day by an attempted poisoning. The main suspect, Lawrence Melton, a former business partner, had a heated argument with Smyth the night Smyth drank hot chocolate laced with arsenic.

A few days later a body is found in a burned-out car. Mrs. Smyth identifies that body as that of her husband. With information from Durkin, the police set out to question Melton, but find that he has disappeared.

Almost immediately after that Mrs. Smyth takes off for parts unknown, leaving Durkin with his bill and no one to pay it. This gives Durkin some incentive to track her down, discovering that Derek Smyth isn’t dead after all. I’m not giving anything away here, because that fact is stated as the first item in the report.

The story has a bit of a twist at the end, but nothing you wouldn’t expect given the actions itemized in the report – and the actual report itself.

As I said above, the form of the story itself is somewhat innovative or, at least, rare. Unfortunately, being written pretty much in reportese, the story is somewhat awkward to read. While this form is OK as a one-off, I don’t think it could stand repetition.

From a plot standpoint there was one glaring non-sequitor, the Smyth daughter who apparently lives at home with Mommy and Daddy. Daddy is supposedly sleeping under a dirt blanket when Mommy disappears off the face of the earth. This leaves kiddo home alone. Mommy and Daddy must be very cold fish indeed to abandon their only child. There was no indication in the story that relations between parents and child were anything other than loving. This turns the abandonment of Miss Smyth by her parents into a major speed bump, at least for me.

In short, an interesting experience, but not one I would care to repeat.

Seduction by Maureen Tan

2005-03-03T06:16:00.000-07:00

“Seduction” by Maureen Tan, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

The first sentence of this story, “Ian Fleming lied,” was enough to catch my interest. The main character goes on to say that seduction in the spy game is unnecessary and irrelevant.

This spy story doesn’t fit at all into the pigeonhole one normally associates with spy stories. The main character, a spy, is a black woman, 58 years old, who is about fifty pounds overweight and carries a large tapestry purse wherever she goes. She’s been in the spy business for forty years.

Corilla’s assignment this time is a thoroughly rude, unlikable, but brilliant physicist who is on the brink of a breakthrough on a new low-power propulsion system for small satellites. This man, Professor Smith, keeps all of his research in his lab and in his head. When he wants to make a report, he dictates to a typist. Since he is such a completely unlikable man, his typists don’t last long. Corilla becomes his new transcribing typist, one considerably more tolerant that the others.

Corilla bides her time until Professor Smith makes his breakthrough. She comes back after work and downloads all his research onto the laptop she carries in her large tapestry purse. She then goes to a coffee shop and sends the files to her bosses back in her country. Once they confirm that the information is good, she is to return to the professor’s lab, corrupt all his computer files, and, as a bonus, she gets to kill the rude son-of-a-bitch. After all, her bosses don’t want any competition for the new propulsion system they will be selling to the US military.

On her way to finish her assignment, Corilla finds something that introduces a twist into the ending, a twist that adds meaning to the title of the story.

I enjoyed “Seduction.” The characterization is excellent. Ms. Tan presents Professor Smikth as a complete bastard, referring to Corilla as “you there”. She also establishes Corilla as a consummate professional spy. I particularly liked the twist at the end.

In short, well worth the time.

New Audio Story

2005-03-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

Kevin Burton Smith, editor and webmaster at Thrilling Detective has announced that an audio version of Dave White's story "Get Miles Away" (link to printed version) will be posted tomorrow. Dave's a fine writer, so go on over and give it a listen.

UPDATE: The mp3 is now up at Thrilling Detective. The production values are great (at least as far as I could tell on the trashy sound card I have in this computer), and Ryan Krewer does a bang-up job of narrating. I especially liked the phone effects. That and the bookended music added a lot to the experience. I like the way this seems to be catching on and evolving.

Reunion by Eric Wright

2005-03-02T06:12:00.000-07:00

“Reunion” by Eric Wright, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

I have to wonder why EQMM published this story. It must have been Mr. Wright's name and reputation as a crime writer (Canadian, received several awards), because this story certainly doesn’t fit EQMM’s usual fare.

Don’t misunderstand. The story is well written, but it’s more a slice-of-life, New Yorker type of story. There’s no plot to speak of and certainly no crime either in the pages of the story or, as might be implied from the editor’s introduction, the mind of this reader.

Two men, Stan and Billy, who were friends in the British Army during World War II, meet accidentally at a race track twenty-two years after having last seen each other while escaping from the advancing German Army on Crete. This is not the hail-fellow-well-met meeting you might expect in such a situation. There appear to be no emotions whatsoever. It was more like they had shared a bus ride rather than a life-and-liberty-threatening retreat before an advancing enemy.

The two men had been separated during their flight, neither knowing what had happened to the other. Stan eventually tells the story of the last time they saw each other and offers an explanation, of sorts, of the reason they seem so cool toward each other.

Ultimately, however, the explanation is unsatisfying. These people do not act the way two men who have endured such an experience act after twenty-two years of uncertainty about the other’s fate. However well written, this story does not belong in EQMM.

In short, the next time EQMM gets a story like this, they should forward it to the New Yorker.

Business Models -- Part 1, Sponsorships

2005-03-01T07:24:00.000-07:00

The Resurrection of Daniel Mason by Patricia McFall

2005-02-28T06:18:00.000-07:00

“The Resurrection of Daniel Mason” by Patricia McFall, Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

This story continues the adventures of Ms. McFall’s series PI, Lane Terry, former actress and performance artist. In this story the younger brother of Lane’s first boyfriend approaches her unexpectedly. It seems that the former boyfriend, the titular Daniel, fell onto evil times and died of a drug overdose. He had willed his body to the medical school. When they were done with it, they cremated the remains and sent them to the family. Sean, the younger brother, wants Lane to help him and his parents dispose of the ashes at sea. In the course of doing that, she finds a tag amongst the ashes that identifies them as anatomical waste with a date a month prior to the death of Daniel.

That starts an investigation into what really happened to Daniel’s body. This brings Lane into contact with a ghoulish morgue supervisor, Nick, at the medical school who is obviously, at least to her, dishonest. She knows he’s got some kind of scam going on, but she’s not sure exactly what it is. She infiltrates the morgue as a temporary worker. Nick’s boss, Dr. Cannon, almost immediately discovers her as a fraud, but keeps her on the job. If Nick is doing something wrong, she wants to know.

Lane eventually finds Daniel’s body still residing in the cold room of the morgue. She also discovers the scam Nick is running, a really profitable scam analogous to an automotive chop shop. Lane is due for one more surprise before being almost killed. Fortunately Ms. McFall allows Lane to escape death through her own skills and actions rather than having her rescued at the last moment.

This is a long story, very dense and well plotted. One step leads to a discovery, which leads to another step, another discovery, and so on. Just the way a good PI story should. I liked the human side of Lane that Ms. McFall showed through Lane’s gradually increasing attraction to Sean. It certainly made her more real.

In short, a well-done story with a likable protagonist.

Road Hazard by David Dean

2005-02-27T09:49:00.000-07:00

“Road Hazard” by David Dean, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

In this story we have a police dispatcher with a problem: an intimidating neighbor. Rueben is a police dispatcher, and a good one, even if he does say so himself. His neighbor, Danny, has been a thorn in his side, and in the sides of everyone in the neighborhood, since he was a teenager. The boy was sullen and threatening, playing destructive and cruel pranks on everyone in the neighborhood. If complaints were made to the police, retribution was sure to follow. Danny’s parents were as intimidated as everyone else, if not more so.

When Danny’s parents died, the neighborhood heaved a sigh of relief. Surely the boy, now a young man, would have to leave. He had no visible means of support, so he wouldn’t be able to make payments on the mortgage. Unfortunately Danny’s father had paid off the house before his death. Now it seemed Danny would never leave. And Rueben seems to feel himself more put-upon than anyone else, particularly since Danny killed his cat and painted “FAG” on his front door. He can’t talk to his friends on the force about what’s going on because he’s afraid of what they will think of him.

One night driving home from work, Rueben hits a deer with his car. He calls a patrol cop he knows to make the police report for his insurance. Then he has an idea. Danny rides his bicycle home from a bar every night about the time Rueben gets off from work. He’s already got damage to his car. It’s like a free pass. He can run over Danny and get the car fixed without worry. So the next night he waits for Danny and commits vehicular homicide.

But can he really get away with it? There is a nice twist at the end.

Mr. Dean does an excellent job in building up the resentment that Rueben feels to the point where we believe that he can kill Danny. And don’t forget the fact that he has established Rueben as something of an egotist, thus making believable Rueben’s belief that he can get away with murder.

In short, a little more noir than you usually see in EQMM and well done besides.

Ease of Use and Other Things

2005-02-26T11:11:00.000-07:00

Coming Soon

2005-02-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

Theoretically there's an audioblog out there in the ether somewhere that will eventually post here. I hope it didn't disappear somewhere, there was some really good stuff on it. [Ed. Yeah, right. You just don't want to have to rerecord it.]

Death by Hair Product by Misty Simon

2005-02-25T07:54:00.000-07:00

“Death by Hair Product” by Misty Simon, Crimson Dagger, February 2005

This story surprised me, pleasantly. I’ll admit to being a little put off by the title, but I was determined to give the story a fair reading. I’m glad I did.

The main character, Bernie (Bernice?) Styles, works as a “nail technician” in a beauty shop owned by Pam. Pam is late for work, something she never is. She is so late that Bernie decides to call her on the “never call me at this number” cell phone. She hears the cell phone ringing somewhere in the shop. Tracking the sound to a locked closet she opens the door. Pam’s body falls out.

Not long after the police leave, Bernie gets a call from a man named Tony who says he is part owner of the shop. He wants to meet with her. Bernie is very suspicious. Pam was so possessive of the shop that Bernie can’t believe she had a co-owner. She meets with Tony anyway because she needs the job. Tony wants her to continue to run the shop at a substantial increase in salary. Needing the money she agrees.

Increasingly suspicious after discovering that the shop is taking in more money than it should be, Bernie finds papers that Pam had hidden. Included is evidence that Tony was laundering money through the shop and that Pam was working with the IRS. Also included was Pam’s will leaving the shop to Bernie. Now Bernie has to figure out a way to turn Tony over to the Feds without suffering the same fate as her erstwhile boss.

This is a very well written, well-plotted story. Ms. Simon did an exceptional job with Bernie. Here we have another person that has to behave in accordance with their innate character rather than as we would want them to behave. In this case, Bernie has a big mouth, and she knows it. She also knows it is a fault that she should do something about, but she can’t. She is compelled to say things she shouldn’t. I liked Bernie a lot.

In short, well done, Ms. Simon.

Soup Noir by Robin Hathaway

2005-02-24T06:05:00.000-07:00

“Soup Noir” by Robin Hathaway, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

I can’t for the life of me understand why EQMM published this story. Don’t get me wrong; the writing itself is fine, smooth and easy to read. It’s the plot, if one can call it that. This story is the equivalent of the science fiction story where people land on some benighted planet and, after sufficient travail, most of it contrived, discover that they are on Earth. Science fiction magazines stopped publishing stories like that 30 years ago. In fact they now specifically prohibit that type of story in their guidelines. Would that EQMM had done so.

The story begins with a woman doing her grocery shopping. She is looking for a particular brand of soup (Campbells) which she describes by the colors on the label. Only she discovers that she can’t see any colors. Everything is in black-and-white. Throughout the story we are reminded that she is a fan of the old noir films. She discovers that she isn’t the only one seeing in black-and-white. Everyone else is too, only they don’t think it is strange.

The story progresses, sort of, with no crime and apparently no potential for crime until the final two paragraphs. Whereupon we are given the mystery (?) equivalent to the science fiction stories described above.

I know the author was just having a little fun, but some kinds of fun should be kept private.

In short, EQMM, please revise your guidelines.

Sneeze for Danger by Val McDermid

2005-02-23T06:13:00.000-07:00

“Sneeze for Danger” by Val McDermid, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

The story opens with a police stakeout of a major drug dealer’s apartment. It seem, this guy, Greg Thomas, knows what the Drug Squad is going to do before they do. The logical conclusion is that the Drug Squad has a mole. So the British equivalent of Internal Affairs, popularly called the Scaffies, is called in.

In addition to listening to what goes on in Thomas’ apartment, they also had video surveillance until Thomas plopped a large vase of lilies down in front of the camera. One early morning during the surveillance, Chrissie and his/her partner, Dennis, see a drunk enter the apartment building. It’s cold outside so he is bundled up and unrecognizable. A little while later there is a prolonged bout of sneezing from Thomas’ apartment. The Scaffies don’t think anything more of it until the next morning when the day team, suspicious that Thomas isn’t up and about, discovers him dead in bed with his throat cut.

This puts Chrissie and his/her partner on the spot. How could they let the man get killed while they were supposed to be watching him? After visiting the apartment the next morning, Chrissie has an idea about how to discover the identity of the killer, who he/she believes is a cop, a cop intimately involved with the investigation. Chrissie makes arrangements for a delivery to be made to the squad room during an upcoming meeting. Chrissie is sure that this delivery will cause the mole to expose himself, which it does, but it’s not who Chrissie expects.

This is a well written, well plotted, easy to read story, which is only to be expected from Val McDermid.

In short, Chrissie is smarter than the average bear.

The Eighth Deadly Sin by Charles Schaeffer

2005-02-22T06:16:00.000-07:00

“The Eighth Deadly Sin” by Charles Schaeffer, Crimson Dagger, February 2005

This is a classic detective story in the vein of Ellery Queen featuring Lieutenant Plato Carros. Carros is getting ready to leave on a vacation to Greece when the Director of the local Natural History Museum is killed.

The Director was found dead in his office chair. Blood indicated that he had been stabbed in front of the desk then made his way back to his chair. There was also blood found behind his chair.

The story proceeds in classic fashion with Carros questioning all the suspects and finding out that all of the suspects had stepped in the blood, that there were two different types of blood on the floor, and that one of the suspects had a strong motive of professional jealousy. He also discovers that the stab wound wasn’t fatal. The Director was asphyxiated. Once Carros discovers that, he finds a sofa cushion that has been turned over. The cushion has a small bloodstain on what used to be the upper side.

In typical Ellery Queen style, Carros assembles all of the suspects, seven of them, at the scene of the crime, as he “proves” who did the deed. The fact that the evidence is no more than circumstantial has no bearing as it’s exposure brings the murderer to confess in front of everyone. Whatever happened to “Keep quiet until your lawyer shows up”?

I’m not a fan of this type of story, but Mr. Schaeffer seemed to handle it well. The investigation progressed logically with various clues and red herrings being exposed gradually along the way. One clue establishing the murderer’s presence in the murder room was left fairly, but the clue that clenched the murderer’s identity was not revealed until the final scene. There was no way the reader could have determined the identity of the murderer.

The next to last paragraph of the story should have been left out. It is the one discordant note in an otherwise skillfully written story. It was as if Mr. Schaeffer had gotten to the end of the story and thought “Oh, damn! I forgot about the sofa cushion.” Then he threw in this paragraph with a glaring logical inconsistency. The clue had been explained sufficiently before and didn’t need explaining again.

In short, not bad if you like this sort of thing.

Material Witness by Mark Agee

2005-02-21T06:18:00.000-07:00

"Material Witness" by Mark Agee, Shred of Evidence, February 2005

This story takes place a few weeks after 9/11. The main character, Forrest Warner, is an ex-FBI agent who left the Bureau under a cloud and now works for a tabloid-type TV show called Certain Justice.

As the story opens, Warner feels as if he is being watched. Turns out he is correct. He is pulled in by an FBI surveillance team lead by Special Agent Bill Elgin, an old enemy. Warner was pulled in as a material witness on the orders of Assistant Special Agent In Charge Susan Reddington. She is running an operation to capture a man named Tony Abouzeki. Tony is supposed to have connections through his brother, a physician in Lebanon, to Hezboullah. Tony said he would turn himself in but only if Warner was there. While Warner was still with the FBI he had busted Tony for wire fraud, and has had dealings with him while with Certain Justice.

Warner agrees to help, but is still suspicious. The Bureau's Office of Professional Responsibility has been trying to get him on something for years. Also he doesn't trust Elgin or Reddington. He keeps trying to figure out the real reason they came to him and how he can stay out of their clutches.

This is a longish story, and it needs to be with all the crossing and double-crossing and suspicion. Warner's suspicions and the Byzantine plans to bring in Abouzeki keep the suspense high. There's a good shoot-em-up conclusion and a final-act revelation that Warner's been part of an operation that he didn't even know about.

The story is well-written and kept my interest up throughout the long build-up.

In short, I'm keeping an eye out for Mr. Agee's next story.

Family Business by Sybil A. Johnson

2005-02-20T09:20:00.000-07:00

“Family Business” by Sybil A. Johnson, Crimson Dagger, February 2005

This is a cozy tale of greed, pride and long-hidden secrets.

The story opens with the aftermath of a fire in retail store in a small town. The owners, a married couple, are on vacation leaving their daughter, Rory (short for Aurora), in charge. Almost immediately we are introduced to a rabid chief of police, Chief Marshall, that is bound and determined to hang a charge of arson on Rory. Rory can’t understand why anyone would think she would burn down her parents’ store. Chet Carlson, a Councilman, comes on-scene and runs interference for Rory.

Rory knows she was adopted but knows nothing about her birth parents. An article about the fire in the paper that almost accuses her of arson talks about another string of arsons when Rory was two. She goes to the library and researches those earlier fires, finding out that her birth parents who died in one of those fires were accused of the arson. The police chief’s wife and toddler daughter were also killed in one of the fires.

The police chief, still foaming at the mouth, arrests Rory. Out on bail, Rory is attacked while cleaning up the store. She marks her attacker, but is knocked unconscious. When she comes to in the midst of another fire, Mad Dog Marshall is there ready to slap the darbies on her again. She has to find a way to clear herself and prove the identity of the real arsonist.

With the exception of the over-the-top reactions of Mad Dog Marshall, the first three-quarters of this story is well written. The last section reads like Ms. Johnson noticed she was reaching the length limit and had to short shrift chains of events that should have been played out at greater length.

Other than that I have two major quibbles with the story. The first is that people in this day and age would believe that a tendency to commit arson would be an inheritable trait. This story takes place in a small town, not a school for the mentally challenged. I grew up in a small town, and even back in the ‘50s and ‘60s no one I knew would have believed that.

The other major quibble is that the final actions of the real arsonist were not adequately set up in the body of the story. There was a hint early on about bad feelings between the villain and Rory’s current family, but that wasn’t enough to make the final scene believable.

In short, quick out of the gate, but faltered in the stretch.

Graffiti Red by Jason Duke

2005-02-19T09:52:00.000-07:00

“Graffiti Red” by Jason Duke, Shred of Evidence, February 2005

This story starts off with the attempted assassination of a gang leader by the main character, Joseph Ortiz. Apparently Joseph is a tagger, a graffiti artist. A friend of his tried to do some tagging in the subway tunnels claimed as territory by the Tunnel Bombers, led by a punk with the appellation, Dreadhead. As retribution, he was forced to do something that got him killed.

Now Joseph is being forced to take up where Carlos left off. He is given three suction cups, one for his left hand and one each for his knees, and five cans of paint in five different colors. He is supposed to attach himself to the side of a train with the suction cups and paint something with the cans of paint, ending with the red, graffiti red.

Frankly, I didn’t understand this part at all. Was he supposed to leave long streaks of paint on the tunnel walls as the train traveled through them, or was he supposed to paint something on the side of the train. It wouldn’t be much more than a blob of paint considering that the train is moving, and he was attached to the side of it. I wouldn’t think, once the suction cups were applied, that he could move along the side of the train. And the author did nothing to correct this assumption.

Moving on. Dealing with the moving train, the rush of the air, the nearness of the tunnel walls, the insecurity of the suction cups, and rats the size of Shetland ponies, Joseph has used up all the cans of paint except the last, graffiti red, which was sucked from his hand by the rushing wind.

Joseph detaches himself from the train at the next stop where he gets involved in an imbroglio with Transit Authority cops and Dreadhead. There’s fighting and killing and a surfeit of “graffiti red” in the ending.

Now, how Dreadhead saw Joseph off at one station and met him at another further down the line is not explained. I guess if I had lived in New York (I assume this was New York) perhaps I wouldn’t need any explanations about the intricacies of the subway system and the tagging of same. But I’m just a pore ol’ country boy that don’t know much about such big-city things as subways and Metro Transit Authorities. And the author didn’t seem to think he was going to have any readers like me.

In case you hadn’t guessed, that annoyed me somewhat. I know, I know. I’ve done the same damn thing myself, and, believe me, I’ve been called on it.

However annoying I found Mr. Duke’s failure to make me comfortable in the scene of the crime, his description of Joseph’s trip through the tunnels attached to the side of a train was well done and suspenseful.

Unfortunately, given Joseph’s and Dreadhead’s behavior at the beginning of the story, I couldn’t believe in their behavior at the end. If, at the beginning, Joseph had actually fired his weapon, the ending would have been more believable.

In short, too many holes.

Crimson Dagger: Online Mystery Fiction Magazine

2005-02-18T06:34:00.002-07:00

This February issue launches Crimson Dagger: Online Mystery Fiction Magazine. Since this is the most recent ezine to actually charge real money for granting one the privilege of reading it, I simply couldn't resist purchasing a copy. In this post I'm going to review the overall magazine itself, it's "look and feel", and then review the stories separately.

In general the zine has an attractive look. The pages are attractive and easy to read. In this issue there are three stories, three book reviews, and four regular columns. I was familiar with two of the authors, Charles Schaeffer and Jeffrey Marks. Mr. Schaeffer had a short story, and Mr. Marks is one of the regular columnists.

The columns deal with craft and networking. Mr. Marks' column, "To Sign or Not To Sign", talks about author signings taking off from the Atwood imbroglio. It was well done and offered some sound advice. Another column about punching up dialogue, "Actions Speak Louder Than Words" by Roseanne Dowell, also offered some excellent pointers. The other two columns, "Extreme Mystery Makeovers" by Janet Elaine Smith and "So You Want to Write a Mystery" were more introductory in nature and were of a survey nature, trying to cover an enormous amount of ground in under a thousand words. Definitely targeted to the rank beginner, which is not a bad thing.

Now let's get to the nitty-gritty, the cost. Crimson Dagger, ostensibly to be issued monthly, is available for $2.50 for a single issue, an annual subscription for $24.00, or they have a pay-as-you-go subscription for $2.00 a month. One thing here that raised a red flag to me was the fact that on the page titled "Coming Up In The March 2005 Issue" was nothing more than "To Be Announced". Now it seems to me that a zine that wants to publish on a monthly basis would be well served to have a couple of months' worth of material already in hand before publishing their first issue. I fear that their publication schedule is in grave danger.

Moving on. When you buy a single issue of the zine, that issue is delivered to you by email in a zip file. Apparently if you buy a subscription you are issued an ID and password to access the online version. The file extracts into its own separate directory. The zip file contains a myriad of HTML and image files. Not one of those files is named "Hey Dummy! Start Here." After my initial shock, I found two files, one named "index" and another named "menu". I picked one at random and was able to get into the zine. Basically it recreates the website on your computer with all the hyperlinks and formatting intact. This was annoying. I virtually never read ezines on my computer. I convert them to PDF files or ebook files for reading on my PDA. I would have thought that a zine delivered by email would have been a single file. Goes to my Third Pillar, Ease Of Use that I'm going to discuss this weekend.

Once I discovered the form, I converted the zine to a PDF file myself which took about 3 minutes. Not onerous, but an annoyance. The publishers could have done that for me in the same amount of time and kept all the hyperlinks intact. The PDF was only 750kb, so the bandwidth needed to transfer it would have been endurable even on dial-up especially given the convenience of the resulting file. Something the publishers should consider for the next issue.

Promotion is also seriously lacking. I saw only one mention of the launch on the Short Mystery Fiction Society list. Nothing else. You can't expect people to buy your zine if they don't know it exists.

My most serious concern with this zine, other than promotion, is the fact that they pay their writers in subscriptions, not in real money. Of course, they promise that sometime in the unspecified future they may start paying actual money to the people that make their magazine worth reading. This zine charges for the advertisements and classifieds that they publish. They charge you, the reader, for the privilege of reading their publication. So why can't they pay, even at the beginning, an author $5 or $10 for the sweat of their brow? Of course they have other expenses, but nothing compared to a print publication. If Shred of Evidence can pay $10, without all the advertising and subscription and single-issue income, why can't Crimson Dagger? Once they begin really making money, they can increase the author's remuneration.

In short (too late for that), Crimson Dagger shows promise, and I hope they succeed; but if they don't address some issues quickly, I fear for their future.

An Unwilling Witness by Stephen D. Rogers

2005-02-17T06:07:00.000-07:00

“An Unwilling Witness” by Stephen D. Rogers, Shred of Evidence, February 2005

This short-short story is a tale of betrayal, murder, revenge, and – a little something else. A lot to get in a short-short.

The main character, Patrick, is apparently a PI, though it’s never specifically stated. Within the first two paragraphs of the story we know that he’s not terribly discriminating about the types of jobs he takes.

Patrick’s partner, Herman, was murdered before the story begins, a murder with no clues to the perpetrator. Herman’s wife, Marilyn, is desperate to find out what happened, so she hires a medium to contact the spirit of her dead husband. She wants Patrick to be at the séance to see if the medium, a man named Endicott, is faking.

Patrick isn’t thrilled about the prospect. He doesn’t have any experience with debunking, but he finally agrees. The séance is to be held in Marilyn’s house, so Patrick searches it beforehand to make sure Endicott hasn’t hidden anything. When Endicott arrives, Patrick stays with him so he won’t have a chance to plant anything before the performance.

Imagine Patrick’s surprise when during the séance a ball of mist materializes over the table and forms into Herman’s face. The Herman-face then says, “Patrick. Double-cross.”

At this point Patrick jumps up, overturning the table, plunging the room into darkness, and waves his hands frantically through the ball of mist. Trying to find out what made it, of course.

The story moves on to disclose the identity of the murderer, which, if you read closely, isn’t totally unexpected. The final twist however is unexpected.

Mr. Rogers is a prolific author with many hundreds of stories published. His skill is evident in this story, easy to read and fast moving. You won’t find any deep meanings or emotions here (tough to do in a short-short), but it is entertaining.

In short, a fun story.

Reptile Smile by David White

2005-02-16T06:32:00.000-07:00

"Reptile Smile" by David White, Shred of Evidence, February 2005

This story fills in more background on Mr. White's series sleuth, Jackson Donne. It is actually a "sequel" to his story, "Darkness on the Edge of Town", published in Thrilling Detective, taking place two months after the events in “Darkness”. The time is 1998, and Jackson Donne is still a cop, a newly minted detective.

Jackson's partner, Detective Bill Martin, is the viewpoint character of this story. This is a double departure from the contemporary stories in that not only is Donne not the viewpoint character, this story, like "Darkness", is told in third person. Mr. White doesn't seem quite as comfortable in third person as he is in first, but I noticed that there is an improvement from "Darkness". In any case, that wasn't enough to affect my enjoyment of the story.

The story opens with Martin and Donne shaking down a rich banker who had been filmed buying drugs. As you might guess Martin and Donne, members of the Narc Force, are not the cleanest cops in town.

During a conversation Martin discovers that Donne is going to get married. Martin worries about how much Donne’s intended, Jeanne, knows about their little side business. Donne says she doesn’t know anything, but Martin has a feeling that Donne will eventually tell her.

Martin goes to see the head of the Narc Force, Leo Carver, to drop off his cut of the “donation”. Between them they decide to have Jeanne killed. Martin then goes to see a hitman they have used before, and arranges the hit.

On the night the hit was supposed to take place, Martin and Donne are out cruising the streets. Martin decides to stop and talk to one of their snitches. The snitch, Jesus, tells Donne that the word on the street is that someone is going to kill him and his woman. Not what Martin wanted to hear.

Donne and Martin pile back into the car with Donne urging Martin to step on it. They have to get to Jeanne’s apartment. Martin doesn’t have much of a choice. When they arrive the hitman’s there, but Jeanne’s still alive. The hitman surrenders peaceably, and Donne rushes into the bedroom to comfort Jeanne. From this point to the end of the story, the situation is pregnant with possibility.

I like Mr. White’s use of language: “He wore sweatpants and a thick black parka that looked like a burnt marshmallow.” That’s particularly nice.

The reader’s identification with Donne isn’t as strong in this story because of the third person and Martin being the viewpoint character, but I understand why Mr. White did this. The third person separates the background stories from the contemporary stories, and this particular story would have been very difficult to tell from Donne’s viewpoint.

In short, an enjoyable read.

New Issue of Thrilling Detective

2005-02-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

There's a new issue of Thrilling Detective out with all kinds of goodies. There are new stories by Stephen D. Rogers, Mark Best and Christopher Gooch. In honor of the 75th anniversary of the publication of The Maltese Falcon, Thrilling has an excerpt from the novel AND a link to a recording of the Maltese Falcon radio show starring Humphrey Bogart. Way to go, guys!

Misty's World by Victor Gischler

2005-02-15T05:46:00.000-07:00

"Misty's World" by Victor Gischler, Shred of Evidence, February 2005

This story is as noir as the devil's heart, something Mr. Gischler does as well or better than anyone else currently writing.

Misty makes her living by taking off her clothes and dancing. She makes a decent living, kind of a mid-list stripper, though not decent enough to be able to save to get her teeth fixed. She wants to go to California and become a porn star, and her teeth are the only things standing in her way. She says, "They come together and stick out like the prow of a sailing ship."

Misty's dreams, to be a porn star, to escape the dreary cold for sunny SoCal, may not be things we would think desirable, but to her they are real and important. That's one of the things Mr. Gischler handles so well, leading us to believe that her dreams are vital to her. That makes Misty as real as any character I've read about lately.

Unfortunately Misty has a no-account boyfriend, Ted, and even more unfortunately she loves him. He's one of those guys that always has a plan; a plan that will make him rich with little or no work on his part; a plan that never works out. Ted has a new plan. It's a big enough score that he will be able to pay for Misty's braces and then some. But Misty has a bad feeling. She knows how his plans come out.

Misty's actions, however, just push Ted harder. He has to make this work to prove to her that he isn't a screw-up. The characters are so well drawn that they push each other's buttons effortlessly, leading to an inevitable conclusion.

Be warned. This is not a story to be read when you're already feeling down. But it is a story you should read.

In short, don't miss this one.

Steven Torres -- Gentleman

2005-02-14T16:00:00.000-07:00

And So To Bedlam by Neil Schofield

2005-02-14T05:50:00.000-07:00

"And So To Bedlam" by Neil Schofield, Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, March/April 2005

This is a humorous tale with "darkly comic situations". To tell the truth it reminded me a little of some of the old Alfred Hitchcock television shows. Except that I enjoyed those.

The story begins with a letter written by Col. Blimp - excuse me, Maj. James "Jimbo" Garside, late of Her Majesty's Armed Forces, to a magazine enquiring about the identity of the author of one of the articles. Soon after a man purporting to be said author, an old mess mate of the Major, one Clive "Loopy" Drinkwater, arrives. Since it has been ages since they last met, the Major, true to stereotype in that he isn't the sharpest crayon in the box, while amazed at the change in his appearance, invites him to bide a while.

The Memsahib, or Mems, as the Major refers to his wife, is less than thrilled at the arrival of this stranger and becomes increasingly less so as the visit stretches out. Old Loopy isn't the sort that she likes her husband to associate with. After all, the inside of his hat is lined with foil.

One day the Major comes home from a lunch with his banker to find the Memsahib layed out on the kitchen floor in pool of her own blood. The situation goes downhill from there to an ending that does have a clever twist. The only problem being that you have to read the entire story to get there.

When you read a humorous story you must expect that the author will take a certain license with regard to logic and reality. One of the best ways to take a ho-hum situation and make it funny is to take that situation to an absurd extreme. The problem with this is that if you do it too often, or get too outrageously absurd, the effect is lost.

That is the basic problem with Mr. Schofield's story: it is too long and too outrageous. I think if he could have cut the tale in half and kept the body count in the low single figures, the story would have been more successful. As it is, I kept asking, "Is this ever going to end?"

In short, too long and not funny enough.

Overtime Opportunities by Patrick J. Lambe

2005-02-13T11:28:00.000-07:00

“Overtime Opportunities” by Patrick J. Lambe, Shred of Evidence, February 2005

In this story the main character is a dispatcher for a company that supplies building materials to contractors. (I’m going to call him Harvey since Pat doesn’t name him, and this review is going to be hard to write without naming him.) Harvey has worked his way up the ladder to this position, and, along the way, he discovered how to make extra money by skimming supplies off the top and selling them to contractors at a discount. Not being a greedy man, unlike the owners of the company for which he works, he has spread the wealth around among other employees and has a nice little organization going.

Harvey has also learned to take advantage of his knowledge of what construction jobs are going on to uncover other overtime opportunities. He, his buddy, Hal, and usually one other trusted member of the organization, find a job where the owners are rich and will be away for extended time periods while the construction is going on. They then manipulate deliveries so that the site will be unoccupied for a couple of days. That gives them time to go in and rob the place.

Harvey and Hal invite the new kid at the yard to join them, saying that they expect a few opportunities to come up soon. George, the new kid, offers them a piece of a job he has been scoping out for a while. They’re a little hesitant, they don’t know the kid and don’t know the house he’s talking about robbing, but what the hell.

They do the job, but it’s too easy. The kid not only knows the exact location of the safe, he knows the combination as well. On top of that, there’s $200,000 dollars in cash in the safe. This is by far the biggest score they’ve ever made. Harvey is even more suspicious when they discover that there is a fourth person involved that George neglected to mention.

Even with his $50K share, Harvey can’t help feeling uneasy about the whole thing, so he goes out to the house to find out to whom the house belongs. He finds out when the owner, Tullio “Trifecta” Mazzucco, a Mafia member with a history of extreme violence, shows up as Harvey is leaving.

Both Hal and George are as shaken up by this knowledge. What are they going to do? Then the contractors on the house suddenly have a serious accident, one of them dead and the other nearly so. The deaths among those involved start piling up. Did Tullio find out?

This is a well-written story with a good twist on expectations at the end. Harvey, even though that isn’t his name, is well-drawn, and Hal is just full of surprises. I’m familiar with the construction industry and saw right off that Pat had done his research. I didn’t see a single false note.

In short, an enjoyable story by a skillful writer.

For Those Curious About Podcasts

2005-02-12T16:42:00.000-07:00

For those who are curious about podcasts and would like to hear a really well done one, go to the debut podcast of Pop Goes The Culture. The production qualities are excellent, and the discussion in interesting, all about blogs and podcasts and the impact they are having on popular culture.

Building the Foundation

2005-02-12T15:32:00.000-07:00

I found this on Simon Waldman's blog today. Simon is the Director of Digital Publishing for the Guardian Newspapers. He was talking about news publishing on the web, but what he said applies just as well to fiction publishing on the web.

My overall feeling - as I’ve banged on about repeatedly, is that we are seeing the start of a series of moves that will take us from a world of online publishing that is really printing without paper, to a media environent unlike any other we have previously operated in. And, exactly who will make money out of it, how they’ll make it, and how much they’ll make is still unclear.

Photojournalists have an expression that the best aperture is ‘F/8 and be there’. In otherwords - forget technical wizardry - if you’re in the right place at the right time and pointing your camera in the right direction, you’re 90% of the way there. And I think that’s the same with this. This isn’t about fine tuned strategies and trying to work it out in meeting rooms for the next year. Point and shoot and see what happens. [emphasis mine]

This is what I am groping toward with this blog and my rants on short story publishing. The fact is we don't know what is going to work, and even the smartest, most perceptive people out there haven't got a clue how to predict what will work. The only thing we can do is try something and see what happens. Most of the time we'll probably do a face plant, but what the hell, it's only cyberspace. The ground is soft.

Why Audio Blogging?

2005-02-12T10:53:00.000-07:00

Bill Crider Can Do It!

2005-02-12T09:52:00.000-07:00

Selection As The Second Pillar

2005-02-12T06:21:00.000-07:00

In a previous post I mentioned that I thought Three Pillars would support a viable short fiction market on the web: Promotion, Selection, and Ease of Use. This time I'm going to talk about Selection and its subcategories Price and Value.

One of the major things that make iTunes and the new Napster and Microsoft subscription services work is the huge selection they have. When those services came into being there was already a critical mass of digital music files available, and, given the modern methods of recording, large numbers of new files were being created every day. Now, I'm not going to say that made it easy for these guys but it did make a lot of material available for someone who wanted to do the work of aggregating it. And much of that material was by Big Names.

In the case of short fiction that critical mass does not exist, not in text-based stories, certainly not in mp3 files, and absolutely not with Big Names attached. Having thought about it, I'm not sure a critical mass of stories has to exist. Music and fiction are different. I see no reason why a periodic zine of short stories (whether text-based or audio-based) can't charge for content PROVIDED certain things are addressed and changed. I also believe that the more often a zine is published, the more likely people will be willing to pay for that zine. A quarterly publishing schedule allows too much time for people to forget about how much they enjoyed reading the stories in the last issue.

Yesterday I did a very geeky thing. I listened to a podcast called The Gilmore Gang. This is a collection of ubergeeks that get together every week and talk about developments and trends in the IT world. The week of January 28, 2005, the subject was podcasts, how they related to the evolution of radio, and how one might make money with them.

Some people might be wondering why I keep bringing up podcasts. I keep doing that because podcasts are basically the same thing as short stories saved and downloaded as mp3 files for listening. What's happening with podcasts is relevant to recorded short stories. So there!

Getting back to The Gilmore Gang, their major conclusion after an hour of interrupting each other, was that if you wanted someone to pay for something, that someone would have to perceive some VALUE in what you were selling.

There it is, laying on the table like a dead rat: that annoyingly vague word, VALUE. What the hell does that mean?

Let's take an example. I suppose someone might perceive more value in a recording of one of my short stories as read by Thom Bray (actor, writer, TV producer) than they would in a recording by me. Thom's recording would have more value because: a) he can speak without stumbling over his own tongue every third word; and b) he can actually act. The listening experience would be more pleasant. Thus they would be more willing to pay real money for Thom's recording than mine.

Another way to add value is to bring widely separated items that people are interested in (but don't have the time or desire to search out themselves) together in one easily accessed place, and not just any old items, but the best items of their type. People buy AHMM and EQMM because they can get 8 or 10 high quality stories (most of the time) in one easy to use package for about $0.40 to $0.50 per story. People see value in that convenience and price.

So why won't people pay for Hardluck Stories, or Shred of Evidence, or Shots, or Thrilling Detective?

Four things. First, it's easy for people to see that the publishers of AHMM and EQMM have expenses: paper, printing, and transportation. (In my experience very few people think about paying the author. That's one of those vaporware expenses, doesn't really exist.) The buyers realize that in order for the publisher to continue to supply them with their convenient and reasonably priced stories, the publishers have to be able to pay their expenses and make a little profit.

Second, there are no easily understandable expenses for the web-based publisher. Nothing is tangible. Everything is just electronic bits and bytes zipping around the aether. Web-based publishers have no expenses. (Don't choke Dave, Megan, Sarah, and Kevin/Gerald!) Why should we (the consumer) pay for something that doesn't cost anything to produce? Woven into that is the old Internet wheeze, "information wants to be free," which is fine unless you are a producer of said information.

Third, stories published in ezines are perceived by the reading public as being inferior in quality to those published in print. This is an incorrect perception by and large. Of course there are sites that publish stories with little or no attention given to the skill of the author. This is where the EDITOR adds VALUE. The reading public has to be educated to understand that while a great deal of crap exists on the web, there are aggregators of content (ezines) that winnow that crap out and publish only the good stuff. We are beginning to see anthology editors such as Otto Penzler and John Breen break down that perception by including web-published stories in their "Best Of" anthologies. Or at least putting them in the Honorable Mention category. More work needs to be done here.

Fourth, stories published on the Internet simply aren't as convenient as stories published on paper. That is beginning to change, and I believe it's changing faster for audio-based material than it is for text-based material. All of this I'll discuss as the Third Pillar, Ease of Use.

After all this, I'm changing the name of the Second Pillar from Selection to Value. So, in order to make publishing (and writing!) short stories on the web an economically viable operation we have to convince the Gentle Reader (or Listener) that the value of what they are purchasing is greater than the price they are paying. That's going to take some work.

Audio Blogging -- Experiment #3

2005-02-11T08:02:00.000-07:00

Audio Blogging -- Experiment #2

2005-02-11T07:42:00.000-07:00

Audio Blogging -- Experiment #1

2005-02-11T07:03:00.000-07:00

Cell Damage by Dave Case

2005-02-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

"Cell Damage" by Dave Case, Hardluck Stories, Winter 2005

Another series in the making - and that's a good thing.

John Pope and Maggie Gallagher are members of the Special Operations Section of the Chicago Police. That section contains the most aggressive officers in the Department, which explains some of the actions in this story.

Pope and Gallagher are partners, almost as widely divided in age as they are in gender. Pope takes Gallagher to breakfast at one of his favorite joints. When they get there, they find the crime scene cops present. It seems that the owner, arriving to open the restaurant, found a dead man on his floor. The detective that caught the case, Freddy Lode, is holding the owner, Gus, a friend of Pope's, with the intention of charging him with murder. Gus says that he didn't kill the man, but he has tested positive for gunshot residue.

Pope and Gallagher hit the streets searching for a viable alternative killer. Along the way they identify the corpse. He was Gus's granddaughter's boyfriend; at least he was before he raped her. That gives Gus a motive for killing the man.

The two cops then start canvassing the neighborhood. They find witnesses that saw an ice cream truck and three unfamiliar men behind the restaurant before Gus arrived. The three men had entered the restaurant, but only two came out. Further investigation, one lead taking them to the next, leads them to the real culprits and a gunfight.

At the end, Pope reasons out why there was GSR on Gus' hand. A nice little twist.

The story is well written and very believable, which makes sense because Mr. Case is a Chicago cop and a member of the SOS. I liked the interaction between Pope and Gallagher, though Gallagher's tongue action (read the story yourself!) might be a little over the top.

In short, I'm looking forward to the next installment.

House of Pain by James M. McGowan

2005-02-10T06:18:00.000-07:00

“House of Pain” by James M. McGowan, Hardluck Stories, Winter 2005

This story is set in Northern Ireland and follows an IRA cell when four men arrive at a bar. They’ve come to pick up a suspected traitor. They will hold a trial and, if the man is found guilty, an execution. That is the plot. Almost. There is one other very subtle plot line operating.

Mr. McGowan is a skillful writer. He uses the appearance of British patrols to build suspense, and the atmosphere is well drawn. The desperation and fear of the suspected traitor builds convincingly from nonchalance when he is first picked up through naked terror at the end. Very nicely done.

And that other plot line I mentioned? I said it was subtle. I missed it entirely on the first reading. I found it the second time through. The setup occurs in one paragraph, two sentences, near the beginning of the story, just after two of the cell members enter the pub to bring out the traitor. It gives the main character’s actions another level of meaning. A very skillful use of setup-payoff.

Oh, one other thing. One member of the cell, the main character in this first-person telling, is a bit crazier than the others, and seeing that they are IRA, that’s saying something. That character is named McGowan. It’s probably a good thing that I liked this story.

In short, skillfully executed.

Interview with Clint Gaige, Quiet Storm Publishing

2005-02-09T06:18:00.000-07:00

Clint Gaige is chief cook and bottle washer over at Quiet Storm Publishing. In addition to the Quiet Storm website and his personal website, Clint has started a blog. One day he talked about his best sellers and some of the other things he was doing. Since it was all good news for short story fans, I thought an interview was in order.

The Short Of It: In your blog you said that your best-selling book in 2004 was Chesapeake Crimes, edited by Donna Andrews, an anthology, and that Bab's Lakey's DIME, another anthology, was in the top ten. Does this make you more open to anthologies and collections (Anthology: multiple authors; Collection: single author) than a major publisher might be?

Clint Gaige: Hmmm, tough question. Primarily, we publish full-length fiction, that is our bread and butter. I am open to anthologies with the right vision, collections, on the other hand, are a real tough sell. If the right author brought me the right collection at the right time, I would consider it.

TSOI: On the basis of a percentage of overall sales your anthology sales are obviously larger than they would be from a big house like St. Martins. Do you know how the number of books sold compares? In other words, would an anthology from Quiet Storm sell more copies than an anthology from St. Martins?

CG: Probably not. The larger houses just have so many weapons at their disposal. Small publishers are really at the market's mercy. I will say that we may push our anthologies more than a larger house though. So, it is possible we could out distance a larger house anthology given enough time, but if you're gauge is release date sales, we'd lose every time.

TSOI: You're doing an audio book of Babs Lakey's DIME anthology. Why did you decide to do that?

CG: I decided to do that before I really thought it through. My background is in audio production. I love the sensual nature of audio books, but they are a VERY tough beast.

TSOI: How is the process for doing that different from print publishing?

CG: An edited book takes quite a long time to write and edit...audio books take a neutral reader (most of the time) and introduces the material to the voiceover artist...you then hope that the reader can do justice to the work.

TSOI: How is the timeline different?

CG: It is a GRUELING process. Usually, 2-6 hours of reading per chapter, that doesn't count the production end of things which can take another 2-4 hours per chapter.

TSOI: How do you feel about the future of audio? Do you see advantages in distributing audio, perhaps over the web, in digital form?

CG: I love audio and I think it can bring a number of things to the field...especially with MP3 technology.

TSOI: I also noticed that you are starting to offer your books on disk in two ebook formats along with a video related to producing the book and an audio file of the author reading a selection. Have you been doing it long enough, or do you have enough out, to have gotten much reaction?

CG: This is a brand new plan of ours and a completely new product for us. We haven't received a lot of reaction yet but it has been positive. Since we're just testing the waters, we have not really used the technology as well as we could.

TSOI: Well, that's probably more than enough for now. I appreciate your patience.

CG: Not at all, I appreciate the interest.

Thanks again to Clint for taking time out of his very busy schedule. Go to his website and buy some of his books. I hear a rumor that there is a book available now written by some guy with a name like Cold, or Snow, or something. I just know the name has something to do with Winter. I've heard it's pretty good.

Junk In The Trunk Anthology

2005-02-08T11:32:00.000-07:00

The Junk In The Trunk anthology is now open for business. For those of you who have been hiding under a rock the last month, this is the result of an off the wall idea cooked up between Dave White and Bryon Quertermous. They contacted a list of author bloggers and invited them to write a story about someone with something in the trunk of their car who gets pulled over by the police. The stories were great. Now you can read them all in one place, you lucky people!

Glutton for Punishment by Charles Shafer

2005-02-08T06:10:00.000-07:00

"Glutton for Punishment" by Charles Shafer, Hardluck Stories, Winter 2005

Two Chins Carter gets in the middle of something bad in this quick-reading tale.

Two Chins, aptly named given his 300-plus pounds, is a two-bit strongarm man who, having recently been released from a year's imprisonment for exercising his talents on Joey, a deli owner, returns for revenge. Having exacted said revenge Two Chins must now beat feet most quickly - but not before gulping down a foot-long hot dog and a handful of fries.

Two Chins steps outside just in time to see an old Caddy driven by a little old lady creeping down the street. Putting himself in danger of a heart attack he catches up to the Caddy and carjacks the old lady. Once inside the car he discovers a passenger in the back seat, a small man that the old lady calls Don.

After discovering that the two people don't have enough money between them to buy him a decent meal, Two Chins decides to take advantage of the home-cooked meal the old lady has waiting for Don at her house - in the Little Italy section of town.

Once at the old lady's house she ignores Two Chins and serves a heaping plate of food to Don. It is, after all, his birthday. Two Chins, not one to be ignored when there's food to be had, takes the plate from Don in spite of the old lady's insistence that Don should eat first. When the old lady tries to give Don another plate, Two Chins takes that as well, leaving Don without.

Two Chins really should have let Don eat first. The ending is nicely twisty.

I particularly liked the way Mr. Shafer handled Two Chins' characterization. In the very first paragraphs of the story he establishes Two Chins' propensity for violence. Then in the twelfth and thirteenth paragraphs of the story he sets up the character traits that make the scene at the old lady's house believable. Set up and payoff, important elements in a crime story.

In short, well done.

Knight Erring by Darragh Metzger

2005-02-07T05:49:00.000-07:00

"Knight Erring" by Darragh Metzger, Hardluck Stories, Winter 2005

This story takes place at a Renaissance Faire and follows a team of seven reinactors, five men and two women. They perform jousts at the various faires around the country.

At the beginning of the story Jane, a new member of the team, is about to joust against her team member, Deke. While she's supposed to win the joust, she suffers an equipment failure. The shaft of her battle-axe fails, and she takes a blow to the head that ends the match.

Jane, apparently a hothead, is fuming. She had supposedly one of the best armorers on the circuit custom make the axe for her. Now she's off to give the man a piece of her mind.

Accompanied by two of her teammates she confronts Thor at his place of business, a tent on the grounds. She makes a general spectacle of herself and even threatens to kill him if he doesn't have her a replacement axe within an hour. Then she gets really nasty and threatens to sic the IRS on him. Man, was she mad!

Later in the day Rory and Jane find Thor dead in Jane's tent with Jane's new axe buried in his head. Rather than rushing off to call security or the police, the team sits down and works out the story. Then Jack, the team leader, gives the OK to call the police. While they are waiting for the police to arrive, Rory while moving the body discovers a clue. Yes, Rory is an idiot.

The clue leads them to the murderer but by an indirect route. The ending, an action-filled chase on horseback with a little jousting to boot is the best part of the story, exciting and suspenseful.

This is a fun story though the writing seems a little uneven at times. I suspect that will be corrected as Ms. Metzger becomes more comfortable with the characters.

She handles the background of the faire very well, which makes sense because Ms. Metzger has spent several years doing in real life what she is writing about.

My one quibble is with her choice of Rory as the first person narrator of the story. The guy is immature and a bloody idiot as well. I suspect she made this choice as a way to introduce a little comic relief. Perhaps this will work itself out as she spends more time with her ensemble cast. She is currently working on a novel featuring this same cast of characters. I'll be on the lookout for that.

In short, I hope Ms. Metzger turns out a few more stories like this before her novel comes out.

Further Thoughts on Promoting Short Ficton

2005-02-06T09:06:00.000-07:00

Let’s talk some more about promotion. The way I see it, promotion is one of three pillars that will support a burgeoning short story market. Any effort to start a new zine (on the small scale) or a new culture (on the large scale) will succeed or fail in large part because of the effort put into promotion.

Promotion occurs on two levels. The first is the grassroots level. On this level there need to be evangelists, people who are willing to buttonhole anyone who will stand still long enough and regale them with the virtues of the short story in general and any or all means of acquiring them in particular.

Some of that is already happening with an increase of short story panels at the various writer/fan conventions. That’s important. Convince fans that short stories are fun to read, that they are as meaty, at times, as novels, that short stories can make you laugh, cry, or get mad just as easily as a novel can in a much shorter period of time.

Another type of grassroots effort is blogs that talk about short stories (he said, modestly).

This all translates into word of mouth, and that’s a very powerful form of promotion.

However, in spite of what modern marketing gurus say, I don’t think that grassroots promotion will do all that needs to be done to make short stories popular among the general reading, or listening, public. Short stories need to be perceived as COOL. I’ve said this before, and I will keep saying it. If THE PUBLIC sees short stories as COOL, then the short story market will boom.

I emphasized THE PUBLIC because that’s who we need to be targeting. We all know or are being told that the number of people who read, books, magazines, newspapers, whatever, is shrinking. We need to reach the ones who are not now reading or are reading minimally. If they come to think short stories are COOL, they will demand short stories.

So how does something become COOL? I will point to two very successful marketing campaigns: iPod and “Got Milk?”. I’ve talked about iPod before, and I’ll probably do it again, but not today.

The “Got Milk?” campaign was successful because they used celebrities and produced images that stuck in the mind. At the time I thought the campaign was asinine, but it worked. I can’t argue with that.

A product becomes COOL when it is associated with someone or something that is already perceived as COOL. Tom Cruise is cool. Angelina Jolie is cool. Stephen King is cool. And he may be the only writer that is so perceived.

Promotion, promotion, promotion, people.

Oh, yeah. I said that promotion was one of three pillars. The other two are selection (of which price is a subcategory) and ease of use. I’ll talk about those in future rants.

Thom Bray's Pulp Museum

2005-02-05T08:40:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, after all my ranting about new methods of distribution for short stories someone has had the guts to try something new (not that what I said had anything to do with what Thom is doing). Thom Bray, writer and actor, has a "modest proposal" for published authors.

Thom is starting a zine called "Pulp Museum" where he will experiment with some different business models in order to see if he can develop a market for genre short stories that pays pro rates.

"I've observed, alas, that most [zines] do not pay writers for their stories. I
certainly understand why: these hearty and brave publishers have not found a business model that permits them to make enough of a profit (if any) to be able to pay for material. The obvious question I ask is, is a non-paying publication the only business model that is possible for short fiction? Hmm...

I've decided that the way I can help nourish short stories, besides continuing to write them, is to experiment with different business models for publishing them. I am convinced that we must keep trying to find a
way to expand the audience base through publications that pay writers
professional rates (which means charging readers to read their fiction),
otherwise short fiction will go the way of the theatre in this country: either
it will become a non-profit arts model that relies upon government and corporate support to survive, or it will simply disappear and/or be left to amateur writers, the professionals going where they can make a living. We can not keep counting on our best writers to write short mystery and fiction simply for the love of it. Would the great Asimov have spent hours in front of the typewriter, writing short story after short story if he could not have sold them to put food on the table? Of course not.

I look to two business models as my inspiration: Fictionwise and Apple's iMusic Store. They both share, as a common thread, the downloading of electronic formats of intellectual property.

Everyone has heard of iPod, and not much has to be said about it. Apple has, like Kodak before them, created a piece of hardware and then provided the software to go in it. By using the principal of micropayments, it has carved out a powerful product base at a price point that can't be beat. It is a model to be emulated."

Thom will be publishing audio files of stories as well.

"In addition, we'll experiment with a feature called Pulp Radio; the recording of a certain number of stories into mp3 format, also available for downloading. As a professional actor and voice talent, I'm in a unique position to bring spoken word stories to life. I believe that this may--may--represent a huge potential audience of people who hate reading electronic material but love listening to mp3's on their iPods, and are used to paying for their content. Notice that word: paying. I'll charge for the intellectual property in The Pulp Museum. And if I can't convince enough people to buy, well, at least I will have tried, and I'll go back to the drawing board."

I think that there’s a decent chance that this will work. With the right price point and a good and ever-growing selection of stories this could be a big deal. Probably the mp3 section has a better chance of making money than the print side to begin with. As Thom says iPod users are used to paying money for content.

Thom Bray is going up on my Wall of Heroes. Here is a man with the guts to put his whatever where his mouth is. I encourage everyone who reads this to drop over to the Pulp Museum website and read Thom's proposal. Right now he's got the best game in town for expanding the paying short story market. I've already signed on.