The Tao of Doo


In his kind and generous review of my first mystery, DEATH NOTICE, author James Reasoner said the plot was vaguely reminiscent of something found in Scooby-Doo, only played seriously. He meant it as a compliment and I took it Read more

BAD MOON Rises


Another October, another release date. Since BAD MOON is my second book, you would think I'd be used to it. But nope, I'm not. BAD MOON's publication date feels as surreal as DEATH NOTICE's did last year. For readers, the Read more

Writing With ... Louise Penny


I am thrilled beyond words to welcome one of my favorite writers, Louise Penny, whose Armand Gamache mysteries have appeared on bestseller lists worldwide.  Her last book, BURY YOUR DEAD, won the Ellis for best mystery in Canada, and Read more

Is Browsing Dead?


I'll be the first to admit that I was a nerdy teenager. Not pocket protector nerdy, but no sports star, either. I was bookish, I guess you could say. I read A LOT back then, and nothing pleased me Read more

Why We Left Earth


Outer space has always been a mystery. Even before mankind fully grasped its vastness, they wanted to go there. Early astronomers, fascinated by the stars, invented ways to get a closer view. Think Copernicus, Galileo, Cassini. Writers not content Read more

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Featured

Is Browsing Dead?

Posted on 08/10/2011 by Todd Posted in Featured, Musings | 2 Comments

Spencer Platt/Getty Images

I’ll be the first to admit that I was a nerdy teenager. Not pocket protector nerdy, but no sports star, either. I was bookish, I guess you could say. I read A LOT back then, and nothing pleased me more than going to the local bookstore (By local, I mean a twenty-minute drive) and walking among its shelves.

The store was called Friar Tuck. I believe it was part of a chain that went belly-up years ago. It wasn’t large and the staff wasn’t what you’d call knowledgeable. But it was heaven for this book-deprived kid.

With limited funds in my pocket, I could usually buy only one or two books at a time. But that was the best part. The exquisite torture of making a decision. I’d weigh my options carefully, picking one book before putting it down in favor of another, only to go back and grab the original one. I’d read the jacket copy over and over. I’d scan the first chapter or two. If it was a hardcover, I’d hold it in my hands and enjoy the weight of it. (Weight was important back then. If I was going to shell out for a hardcover, I needed to really feel its heft when reading it.)

I’d spend hours doing that. Probably to the annoyance of those part-time employees. But I found many good books that way. THE SECRET HISTORY. THE VIRGIN SUICIDES. I discovered THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER in that cramped bookstore. And a tawdry little British book called DAMAGE that my classmates passed around like it was a joint.

In other words, I browsed.

Now, not so much. When I go to a bookstore, its usually because I know what I want and make a beeline right toward it. Same thing on the rare occasions I order from Amazon. And it’s definitely the case when buying something on my Kindle.

Browsing, it seems, is dead.

Think about it. It used to be you could go to a store, scan the shelves and find something that struck your fancy. In the age of Amazon, your fancy is pretty much struck for you. Yes, Amazon makes suggestions and bundles books together, but you can only see what they show you or what books you actually know about. How can you find something new and unknown if there’s no longer a way to stumble upon it?

It’s even worse with the Kindle. Don’t get me wrong. I love mine. But it’s easier to make a chocolate souffle than to find an unheralded book on the Kindle. That’s why Kindle users all seem to be buying the same handful of books. It’s all they know about and all they see. Thus, it’s all they purchase. There’s no “Surprise Me!” option that brings up an unknown author. Instead, it’s link after link to the same book club favorites and vampire sagas.

Now, before you start to punch holes in my argument, I’m fully aware that you can go into your local Barnes & Noble and browse for as long as you want. That is if you can find the books behind all the DVDs, board games, blank notebooks and tea paraphernalia that seem to dominate such stores now. And once you do, your options are usually limited to whatever bestsellers are deemed worthy enough to sit on their display tables. To find something new and unknown, you’ll have to dig for it. And few people have the time or energy to dig anymore.

This is where indie booksellers come in handy. Sure, they push THE HELP and whatever Swedish mystery is popular these days, but that’s because they have to. Their bottom lines depend on it. But they also value new voices and are eager to share them with their customers. Chances are, if you go into an independent bookstore and ask for something you’ve never heard before, they’ll have a suggestion for you.

So, let’s all make a resolution right now. Let’s vow that the next time we’re in a bookstore, we’ll spend at least ten minutes browsing. We’ll pick up a book we’ve never heard of before, written by an author whose name is unfamiliar. If we like the looks of it, we’ll buy it. We will, for one small moment, once again be a nation of browsers.

Why We Left Earth

Posted on 07/20/2011 by Todd Posted in Featured, Musings | Comments Off on Why We Left Earth

Outer space has always been a mystery. Even before mankind fully grasped its vastness, they wanted to go there. Early astronomers, fascinated by the stars, invented ways to get a closer view. Think Copernicus, Galileo, Cassini. Writers not content with being earthbound blasted off in their books. Jules Verne. H. G. Wells. Even Edgar Allan Poe took a literary trip to the moon. Then film came along, allowing a new breed of artists to visualize space travel. (Georges Méliès, anyone?)

By the time the 1950s rolled around, technology was advanced enough to shoot satellites into orbit. Monkeys, then man, followed. Launches were common. Astronauts became rock stars. And a clean-cut test pilot named Neil Armstrong took that first small step on the moon. Science fiction had been replaced by science fact, fantasy had suddenly become reality.

It was fun while it lasted.

In a sad coincidence, NASA’s space shuttle program is scheduled to come to a close near the anniversary of Armstrong’s historic steps. On July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 landed in the Sea of Tranquility. On July 21, 2011, Space Shuttle Atlantis will touch down on an apathetic Earth. The missions — NASA’s brash yelp of victory in the space race and its wistful final breath — will bookend forty-two years of U.S. space exploration.

Some will say it was all worth it. Others will call it a waste of time, money and, tragically, American lives.

There has always been a debate about the merits of space exploration. In the July 21, 1969, edition of The New York Times, Pablo Picasso is quoted as saying, “It means nothing to me.” Charles Lindbergh, in that same edition, said, “It is of tremendous importance.” Similar statements will no doubt be uttered as NASA, other nations and even for-profit entities plan for the future. But whether one is for or against exploring the stars, it’s easy to understand why man has always been interested in going to space.

The answer is a simple one. Because it is there.

Space has been and will always be a tantalizing mystery, mostly because it’s close enough to see, but perpetually out of reach. We can watch stars wink into view on summer evenings. We can chart the moon’s glide across the sky from our bedroom windows. We can notice how the night cedes power to daylight on wintry morning commutes. Nothing makes humans more curious than letting them see something they can’t touch. In fact, it only makes them want it more. Human nature dictates it.

It doesn’t hurt that the view is pretty spectacular. Gazing up at the night sky, one is confronted with infinite possibilities — and infinite questions. Billions and billions of them, to paraphrase Carl Sagan. How many stars are there? How close are they? What’s beyond them? More stars? More galaxies? Life other than our own? What is out there?

At one time or another, Galileo, Verne and Méliès probably all asked themselves those same questions. Their progeny, armed with the luxury of advances in science and technology, sought the answers. So we got Edwin Hubble, Isaac Asimov and George Lucas, marching beyond their forebears. We got Star Trek and Spielberg. We got E.T. and Tomorrowland.

And we got NASA, of course, that group of guys in short-sleeved shirts and Buddy Holly glasses sending modern-day cowboys into space on bucking broncos fueled by fire. Once they got there, whether by Apollo lunar module or space shuttle, those brave men and women discovered more space, more questions, more possibilities. Just when one milestone was reached, we saw more that could be achieved. That needed to be achieved. Which begs the question, why continue to explore space when we know we can’t possibly see it all?

Again, because it is there. Or, put more poetically by President John F. Kennedy during his famous 1962 speech at Rice University, “There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation many never come again.”

And that’s the ultimate allure of outer space. It’s what has fascinated all those astronomers and writers and artists since the beginning of time. The mystery isn’t what we’ll discover out there among the stars. It’s how we’ll react when we find it. Space travel isn’t really about space. It’s about mankind, more vast and unknowable than any galaxy. To explore the heavens is to explore the hopes and the dreams of those of us on earth.

Rod McKuen put it best in the same edition of The New York Times in which Lindbergh and Picasso sounded off. “If we can reach other worlds so easily,” he wrote, “we might soon come to understand our own.”

Why I Don’t Wing It

Posted on 05/16/2011 by Todd Posted in Featured, Musings, On Writing | 4 Comments

I have done nothing to prepare for writing this post. In fact, I only came up with the idea for it, oh, five seconds ago. I’m just going to let my thoughts flow from my brain to my fingers to my keyboard — hoping it makes a modicum of sense in the end.

I am, for better or worse, winging it.

This is something I normally don’t do. I like to know where I’m going at all times, whether it’s driving out of state, navigating an unfamiliar city or even going to a shopping mall. I’m this way about a lot of things. I don’t go to packed restaurants without a reservation. I never show up at a movie theater without having picked a movie first. At amusement parks, I sure as hell know which roller coaster I’m going to ride first.

In short, I need a plan.

The same is true of writing. If I don’t know where my story is headed, I tend to get hopelessly lost. This is especially true when I reach the middle of the book. Beginnings, for me, are easy. I have come up with a plot and now I’m setting it in motion. Endings are a breeze, too, because I’ve known all along whodunit and why. Middles, however, are like wandering a rainforest at night. It’s dark. It’s confusing. There are any number of ravenous creatures ready to jump out and sink their teeth into your posterior.

If you thought I was roaming the metaphorical rainforest at the end of that paragraph, you were right. I was, and the results weren’t pretty. This is why I don’t wing it. Quite the opposite, I plan everything out. Chapter by chapter. Scene by scene. With some description and dialogue to make it easier on myself. The outline for BAD MOON was seven pages long, single spaced. I might have spent more time hammering out the plot in that outline than I did actually writing the book. Seriously.

It’s the only way I work, and I suspect a lot of mystery and thriller writers are the same way. We have research to do, after all, and clues to place and red herrings to let swim around the pages of our books.

Yet there are those who don’t. I remember being shocked by an interview with Louise Penny in which she said her first drafts were a complete mess, with characters and subplots that go nowhere or vital bits of information she forgets to include. At Thrillerfest last year, I listened to a panel of writers discuss the pros and cons of winging it. Some outlined. Others did not. Espionage writer David Liss might have put the best spin on it, saying that he didn’t want to deny himself the pleasure of being surprised by his books.

Clearly, their attempts at winging it work for them. For me, not so much. There might come a day when I write an entire book in the same way I just banged out this post. But I doubt it. I need my outline. After reading this, I suspect you’d agree.

So tell me, fellow scribes, how do you like to write? By the seat of your pants? Or with thorough plotting? As for this post, which was dashed together with no prior thought, how did I do?

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