Who, US? It's all fiction, really it is....

HANK PHILLIPPPI RYAN:  What is “moumiophilia”? You’ll know in a moment!

Yup, he's reading  a book Becky edited!

But first, there are many things that bring crime fiction together—and one of them is the stuff we all think and talk about—and how disconcerting it can be to those who don’t realize why we’re doing it.

One of my favorite examples happened once at dinner, at a lovely restaurant, as I was saying to Jonathan: ‘Well, you can’t just throw someone off a bridge to kill them. They wouldn’t necessarily die, and someone would probably see you.”

And then the waiter—who happened to be standing there and had overheard me—said, “Um, ma’am?”

So you can imagine the conversations Becky Masterman has had. And one was about moumiophilia.

Becky Masterman and friend

So:  true story, and one to remember—Masterman says when she was sending queries  about her book starring a retired FBI agent main character, she sent one to an agent who responded, “Nobody is interested in a woman older than thirty."

Wrong. She exploded onto the crime fiction scene last year with the Edgar-nominated RAGE AGAINST THE DYING—one of those books that instantly sets the standard. Publisher's Weekly starred review said: "one of the most memorable FBI agents since Clarice Starling, as well as a killer debut thriller."


Now she has a new book—FEAR THE DARKNESS--that’s getting equally universal acclaim.

And starting our week looking at “reinvention”: Becky Masterman didn’t start out as a crime fiction author. She started as—well, let her tell you. And that’s where the moumiophilia comes in. 

WHO ME?

   By Becky Masterman

 

 “. . .a first novel that reads as if Masterman’s been sitting for a long time on some truly ugly secrets.”

My response to that review was, “Who me? Come on, it’s not that bad, is it?”

You see, for fifteen years I worked as an editor for a reference publisher, commissioning books on forensic science.  

 I discussed blow flies over dinner, and whether or not the blood spatter on the wall beside the staircase resulted from an accidental fall.  Frankly, when I first

started this job I felt like the girl in the playground being chased by a boy with a frog.  I felt as if these guys were testing my gag reflex to see if I could take it.  I sensed that being able to talk about murder over a meal without dropping my fork was critical to my success as an editor. 

I got used to the grisly, the shocking, the macabre.  So when I started my crime series about a retired FBI very special agent named Brigid Quinn, I found myself privy to a whole world of resources.  Like Brigid, I didn’t know much about forensic science, but I knew everyone who did. 

Mostly I’ve dealt with authors who know me as their editor, so when, for my first book, Rage Against the Dying, I contacted my paraphilia expert and asked him what the word was for someone who was sexually aroused by mummies, he didn't hesitate.  He answered, “Ah, I have a list of 547 paraphilias, but that is not one of them.  I will create a new term in your honor, moumiophilia!”

Dr. Aggrawal understood why I was asking him about mummies.  While researching Fear the Darkness, however, I was talking to a medical examiner I had just met at a conference.  All intent on getting some information critical to my plot, I asked, “Say, if I killed someone by pressing on their carotid artery, would you be able to tell the cause of death in the autopsy?”  The medical examiner narrowed her eyes and responded, “And you want to know this. . .why?” 

But I think the story that most personifies what it’s like to work in the world of forensic science is when I was having dinner in the elegant restaurant of the Seelbach Hilton in Louisville.  Another author of mine, who is a forensic anthropologist, was explaining to me over cocktails how she had been asked to examine a head that had been encased in concrete.  She was amazed at how beautifully preserved it was.  I was rapt.  The waiter came to our table at that moment and apologized for interrupting what appeared to be an intense conversation.

“Oh, no problem,” I said.  “It’s just girl talk.”

HANK:  Have you ever been “overheard,” Reds? DO you think readers are interested in women over 30? (::ducking::) And any questions for Becky? Pssst. Ask about the fine for killing a--cactus. Yup, a cactus. 

(And a copy of FEAR THE DARKNESS for one lucky commenter! )