Flashes of Talent

HALLIE EPHRON: You'll have to wait until next year to compete in the Flash Words competition at the New England Crime Bake (NEXT year it's Nov. 9-11, 2013 with guest of honor Joseph Finder), but at this year's Bake, the competition was fierce and the winners awesome.

The challenge: To write a compelling crime story in 150 words or less, using at least ten of twenty title words from novels by our Guests of Honor, Nancy Pickard and Barry Eisler.

Title Words: Assassin, Bitch, Body, Coast, Confession, Detachment, Die, Fall, Fault, Ingredient, Killing, Marriage, Murder, Rain, Requiem, Scent, Secret, Storm, Truth, Virgin.

This is even harder than it sounds, and I'm quite sure I couldn't have done it at all, never mind create a coherent tale. Congratulations to the three not lucky so much as talented winners who have graciously agreed to let us run their winning entries.

Just Desserts
By Betsy Bitner

I’ve cooked up a storm every fall for twenty years, determined to get a compliment out of my mother-in-law or die trying. But in truth, getting her to say something nice would be a miracle akin to the virgin birth. Each Thanksgiving she manages to find plenty to bitch about: lumpy gravy, dry turkey, sour cranberry sauce.

I’m done killing myself for her approval when all she does is rain on my parade. And I’m done with my husband defending his mother by saying, “It’s not her fault she has refined tastes. You should try harder.”

This year my efforts will yield more than a sink full of dirty dishes. I’m making a special dessert for the two of them: apple tarts – heavy on the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Oh, and a secret ingredient. Let’s see if her tastes are refined enough to detect the scent of bitter almonds.

A former public defender and professionally trained chef, Betsy Bitner turned to mystery writing for the fame and big bucks. She researches her novel, which is set in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, by trying a variety of outdoor activities from a polar plunge to field dressing game. You can read about her adventures at http://www.lostintheadirondacks.com.

@stormyweather
By Brenda Buchanan

For forty of her forty-one years, Luella Remington was a bashful virgin with a secret. She made a killing writing steamy romantic novels despite an utter lack of first-hand carnal knowledge.

Then she met Storm Bernardsson, whose lessons about a body’s capacity for pleasure left her purring like a contented cat. They had their first fight when Luella demanded he leave his 20-year marriage. She complained about his equivocation on Twitter, oblivious to a certain new follower.

She anticipated hot make up sex when a tweet from @stormyweather lured her to Confessional Point, clad in a raincoat, stilettos and nothing else.

No one will ever be able to prove it, but Luella didn’t slip and fall from that rain-slick coastal cliff. Mrs. Bernardsson was discrete, strolling back to her idling car, inhaling the sweet scent of salt, humming a tune of her own composition: Requiem for a Bitch.

Brenda Buchanan lives in Portland, Maine, where she practices law by day and sits in front of the keyboard nights and weekends. Her just-completed mystery, tentatively titled The Quick Pivot, features a newspaper reporter investigating murder and well-kept secrets in a Maine mill town.

Confessional
By Lorrie Lee O’Neill

“Dead,” he thinks.

Rain peppers the church’s windows. The requiem drones in Latin. Ethel leans in, her hand like softly-plied leather on his.

“It’s not your fault.” She whispers. The storm picks up.

“I am an assassin,” he feels, but nods instead.

That priest waves a thurible over the body. There is the scent of incense.

At confession, he had told that priest he wanted her dead. This was his truth.

“She willed her entire estate to the church,” he confessed.

He drove home embittered. He argued, but her heart was as set as it was ardently failing. She called for that priest. She took communion. He endured it all with a sense of detachment.

Guilt consumed him, both then and now.

At the church he had given his secret to that priest. That priest arrived and administered her last rites, but with an added ingredient to her communion wafer.

Lorrie Lee O’Neill is a graduate of Emerson College in Boston, MA, with a BFA in Creative Writing, Literature and Publishing. She has written articles for magazines, radio scripts, poetry and more recently, ventured into the genre of short stories and pulp fiction.

Betsy, Lorrie Lee, and Brenda will be checking in today and pleased to accept praise and answer questions.

Barry Eisler and The Detachment

You've seen blog tours. You've seen book excerpts on authors' sites. But have you ever seen first five chapters of a to-die-for thriller on five separate blogs? With commentary, interviews and essays?

No you, haven't. It's never been done before.

Our guest today specializes in "never been done before." Barry Eisler has been a CIA operative, a technology lawyer, and a Silicon Valley start-up exec. After his John Rain series achieved critical and commercial success, Barry shocked the literary world by turning down a major contract with one of the Big Six publishers in favor of self publishing. Then he set New York buzzing again when he teamed with Amazon for their groundbreaking digital publishing venture. Smart people in the industry keep an eye on what Barry's doing. Smart readers keep an eye on what he's writing. If you haven't read one of his icy-hot thrillers yet, you're in for a great ride.

JRW: Barry, it's a treat to have you here with an excerpt from The Detachment on the day it goes on sale.

Barry: My pleasure, guys, and thanks for having me.

JRW: A lot of people are excited about the return of your series character, the half-Japanese, half-American assassin John Rain. What made you decide to bring Rain out of retirement? And to combine him with your black ops guy, Ben Treven, and the other characters from the Treven series?

Barry: Well, I never felt like Rain retired exactly. It was more that, at the end of the sixth Rain book, Requiem For An Assassin, it felt like he was going to get a break for a while -- a chance to work things out in Paris with his lover, Mossad agent Delilah. Of course, that romance didn't end happily (for the break-up itself, there's my short story, Paris Is A Bitch), so I imagined Rain back in action in a general sense. And then, as I closed in on the end of my previous book -- Inside Out, a Treven book -- and started thinking about the plot of the next one, I realized my antagonist, JSOC Col. Scott Horton, would need several high-security, high-profile targets to die of what looked like natural causes. Which meant he would need someone like Rain… so why not Rain himself?

And once I started thinking about putting into the same mix all the Rain characters and all the Treven characters, I fell in love with the idea. I mean, these guys are all so dangerous, and also so lone-wolf… what would happen if they were forced to work together? They'd barely be able to avoid killing each other. And what would happen if everything went south (because, of course, it's going to), and they're betrayed by their employers, and the entirety of America's metastasized national security state is targeting them… will they turn on each other? Will they be able to avoid that? And if so, how?

So overall, the book became a continuation of the Inside Out plot (though it also works perfectly fine as a standalone) but with Rain as the central character. And I got to drop him into the biggest canvas I've painted to date: rolling terror attacks across America; an attempted coup; presidential hit-teams, secret prisons, White House backstabbing… everything. All as real and timely as I could make it, and quite a challenge for my unlikely team of lone-wolf killers.

Here’s Chapter 4 of Barry’s new thriller, The Detachment, available today exclusively from the Amazon Kindle Store (and in paper in bookstores everywhere on October 18). You can read other chapters, and Q&A with Barry on other topics, at the following blogs:

Chapter 1 – Truthout: The Politics of The Detachment

Chapter 2 – A Brain Scientist’s Take on Writing: The book’s unusual path to publication

Chapter 3 – Buzz, Balls & Hype: The book’s image system

Chapter 5 – A Newbie’s Guide to Writing: Publishing a book with Amazon

Chapter 4

Larison stood just beyond the ambit of a streetlight, watching the silent images on the handheld video feed. One second, an empty street; the next, a crazy montage of kaleidoscopic images: limbs/grimaces/a car/a building/the sky flashing past. Darkness. Then the sky again, and glimpses of Rain, apparently going through Beckley’s pockets. Rain’s face in close-up, peering with dawning recognition directly into the button lens on Beckley’s cooling torso. A flash of static, then, finally, darkness.

He heard rapid footfalls from the direction of the Jinbocho subway station and looked up to see Treven come tearing around the corner. Larison pocketed the video monitor and stepped into the street with his arms forward, palms out.

“Stop,” he said. “It’s already over.”

Treven slowed, his face registering confusion. Probably he’d been expecting Larison to be riding to the rescue, too, no matter how futile a rescue attempt would be at this point. Meaning he hadn’t absorbed what Larison had told him about the contractors not being part of the team.

“Go!” Treven said, moving to go around. “Didn’t you see the video? Rain ambushed them!”

Larison moved with him and shoved him back. Treven’s face darkened and he dropped his weight like a bull about to charge.

Larison held up his hands again. “Don’t make a scene,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do. They’re already dead.”

“We don’t know that. Rain’s gone, okay, but—”

“They. Are. Dead.”

Treven straightened and some of the tension went out of his body. “What about the cell phones?” he said. “The equipment. We need to retrieve it.”

“Rain took it all.”

“How the hell do you—”

“Wouldn’t you have? But it doesn’t matter. I watched him, over the video feed. He took the equipment and he’s gone.”

Treven watched him silently for a moment. Then he said, “You were close enough. You could have done something, if you’d wanted to.”

Larison glanced at the street behind him, then back at Treven. In some ways, he sympathized with Treven, who Larison understood was grappling with his recent first contact with the real world in the same way Larison once had. On the other hand, he didn’t care for Treven’s stubborn patriotism, which he found sanctimonious and naïve. And he hated that Treven knew his secret, having discovered Nico, Larison’s other life, when he’d tracked Larison to Costa Rica, looking for the torture tapes Larison had stolen.

“You manipulated them,” Treven said. “All that talk about taking the point… you goaded them. Because you knew what would happen.”

Larison shrugged. “What did I owe them? They were sent over here to spy on me. On both of us.”

Treven’s expression was incredulous bordering on disgusted. “They were Americans.”

Larison blew out a long breath. The contractors had been a hindrance, and he had gotten rid of them. It was no more complicated than that. He tried to remember a time when such a thing would have been a problem, when he might have paused beforehand and maybe even felt a pang of conscience after. He couldn’t. It had been too long ago, and too much had happened since.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he said.

Treven shook his head. “You’re a burnout.”

Larison didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to do. Kill Treven? But he needed him to get to Hort, and anyway Hort knew about Nico, too.

But once Hort was dead…

Once Hort was dead, the only person who would even know Larison was alive, let alone about his other life, would be Treven. Plus Rain, soon enough, and this other guy they were supposed to find. Larison needed them for now, he knew that. But once Hort was dead, all they’d represent would be downside.

Use the others to finish Hort, then finish them, too. Walk away with the diamonds, and silence everyone who posed a threat.

It was perfect. It could be done. All he had to do was bait the hook. The rest would take care of itself.

He tried not to smile. “Let’s just call Rain,” he said.

Guest Hunk Barry Eisler

ROBERTA: Today's special guest on Jungle Red has been a CIA operative, a lawyer, and the bestselling author of seven novels. Welcome Barry! Would you start by telling us about your new thriller, Fault Line, and why you decided to depart from John Rain.

BARRY: Thanks, Roberta, it's a pleasure to be here today with the lovely ladies of Jungle Red.

I feel a little foolish admitting this today, but when I wrote Rain Fall, the first in what became (to date) a six-book series, I thought it was a standalone. I should have known better -- Rain is so conflicted about what he does, indeed, about what he is, that it's embarrassing now to realize I didn't spot the character's great serial potential at the time. But I didn't, and before the novel sold, I had started playing around with a new story: two estranged brothers, one a lawyer, one an undercover soldier, who can't stand each other but are forced to work together to survive a conspiracy. The new story wasn't much past the idea stage when Rain Fall sold in the States and nine other territories. Everyone wanted a sequel, and then more sequels, so I shelved the new standalone and have been having a blast writing Rain ever since.

But at the end of the sixth and most recent Rain book, Requiem for an Assassin, I felt Rain would be busy for a while and I could leave him alone while I did something else. I don't want to give away too much about Requiem, but I'll say that Rain gets pretty messed up psychologically in that story, and that at the end, he's got a lot of work to do to put the pieces back together. While he's been working on all that, I felt free to do something else, and in this case "something else" meant that story about the two brothers. The idea has never stopped exciting me, I think in part because of my odd career path, which took me from being a covert employee with the CIA; to an international lawyer in DC, Silicon Valley, Tokyo, and Osaka; to a high-tech, venture-financed start-up executive in Silicon Valley. Any one of those worlds is a potentially interesting milieu in which to base a story; having insider knowledge of all three is just too rich a story opportunity to pass up.

But maybe all of that is more about the story’s foundation—necessary, but not sufficient; the body, but not the spark of life. What really catalyzed the story was my sense of the two brothers. What would happen if one of them, the lawyer, got in trouble, and called on his big brother, the covert military operator, for help? The younger brother would hate to make that call, maybe even more than the older brother would hate to receive it. What would the older brother do at that point? Would they be able to work together despite their mutual bitterness? Or would distrust and recriminations and spite overwhelm them? What if, even as they were struggling in the face of grave danger with all this mutual hostility, their deep-seated animosity and resentment were brought to a boil by the presence of another lawyer, say, a beautiful Iranian-American woman who both brothers desire but can’t really trust?

The more I thought about these characters and the worlds they came from, the more questions I asked about who they were and what was forcing them together, the more excited I got. I guess that feeling of excitement is the best kind of inspiration a story can ever have.

HANK: Hey, Barry! Congratulations on your wild success. (Rhys told us all the secrets you revealed at Left Coast Crime, but that doesn't scare us.) At a conference recently, someone took me aside and said -- almost sneering, I'm afraid -- "Well, you're in TV so all you have to do is write about what you've done. It's much more difficult to make stuff up." What should I have said?

BARRY: Yes, sometimes people say things so breathtakingly ignorant and stupid that momentary awe can prevent us from immediately responding. To cope with the paralyzingly thoughtless comments people sometimes leave on my blog, I find it's useful to inquire about the basis for the person's opinion. So here, I think it would have been just fine to respond, "Really? What TV shows have you written?" If the answer were, "None," that might be time for a sigh and a, "I wish I could have opinions without any factual basis, too... it must save so much time." If the answer were, "Many," that might be time for a, "That's great that they came so easily to you. I'm sure they were very good."

Of course, that's all with the benefit of hindsight and the calm of the keyboard. But having some general approaches in mind does help me cope with fact-free assertions because over time you'll notice there are categories of stupidity. The one you encountered was the evidence-free opinion (depressingly common). There's also the false binary, often combined with a straw man. For example, recently, there have been quite a few comments on my blog along the lines of, "What are we supposed to do with terrorists if we don't torture them? Offer them tea and crumpets?" For this one, I typically ask, "Really? If we don't torture people, we have to offer them tea? Bob, can you really imagine no other possibilities?"

You know, I've been meaning to do a whole post on critical thinking and how to argue. You are inspiring me!

RHYS: Welcome Barry. I think you and I have probably asked each other every possible question in that session of interviewing each other at Left Coast, which I have to say went remarkably smoothly for something so unrehearsed. Even if the photos do look a little like Sonny and Cher. By the way, I asked Barry if he'd ever had to kill anybody, but he fudged around that and said, "Not had to...." so I want to know how strongly you identify with Rain, or with either of the characters Alex or Ben, in your new thriller.

BARRY: Rhys, I miss you! That LCC crime session was so much fun (and for anyone who's missed it, you can catch the video on my website here.

I identify in some way with all my characters, no matter how different they might be from me, no matter how different they might be from each other. I think anytime you create a character, you’re identifying certain elements in your own personality, distilling them out, and then culturing them in someone else, where they manifest themselves in a different way. So while I’m overall a pretty optimistic guy, for example, there are cynical streaks within me, streaks that present themselves more fully, and differently, in a guy like Rain, who doesn’t have my native optimism to balance and contain them. And I have my ruthless, amoral elements, so I can certainly understand Ben's world view. But I've got an idealistic streak, too (otherwise I wouldn't waste my time blogging about politics), so I completely get Sarah. And then there's a part of me that's sometimes tempted to just say, "The hell with it," ignore the world, and worry only about advancing myself.

RHYS: And one last question: do you now carry a mirror in your pocket, just in case you fall through another floor?

ROBERTA: Inside joke alert--inquiring minds want to know what this is all about!

BARRY: Okay, you asked...

In April 2001, while in Tokyo doing some final research for the manuscript that became Rain Fall, I fell nearly 18 feet (17 feet, 7 inches, to be precise; went back a month later with a tape measure) onto bare cement at an unmarked construction site. After about a minute of rolling around on the ground, groaning and swearing (and, incidentally, enormously comforted by the sound of my own voice, I think because I sensed that if I could talk I must still be alive), I managed to get to my feet. By this time I understood what had happened—I’d had a hell of a fall and might be badly hurt. I did a quick systems check: my name is Barry Eisler, my phone number is, my address is... Everything seemed to be working mentally. Still, there was blood on my hands and arms (as it turned out, from just superficial cuts), and I was concerned I might have a concussion or something. I wanted to find a mirror so I could check whether there was blood coming out of my ears, were my pupils dilated, whatever. I looked up and saw two hard-hatted Japanese construction guys staring at me. Their mouths were slightly open; I realize now that, seeing what had just happened, they were in a mild state of shock. But in my own shock and agitation, I naturally enough was completely focused on what was going on in my world and was paying zero attention to how things might look to them. I walked over to them and said in polite Japanese, "Excuse me, where's the restroom?" They didn’t say a word; the only change was that their mouths dropped open a little further. I started to get pissed, thinking, "Good God, can’t you guys give me a hand? Didn’t you see what just happened?" But of course now I realize how it all looked to them: a white guy plunges through a temporary ceiling, burns into the deck in a cloud of dust, then gets up and asks them in Japanese where's the bathroom. I’ll bet they’re still telling the story today, which makes me smile.

Little epilogue to the story: miraculously, no broken bones, but the bruises on my ass, elbows, and heels were unlike anything I’ve ever seen: not purple, but black. Also, I had whiplash consistent with what you’d get if you got hit by another car on the driver’s side of your own. I think what happened was that, in the half-second during which I was falling, my body unconsciously assumed a breakfall position (thank God for all those judo ukemi). All my injuries were consistent with that: my head didn’t even graze the ground (although, again, it did have an uncomfortable meeting with my shoulder, which caused the whiplash).

Couple interesting physics lessons: a piece of 8x11 paper, folded in quarters, was blown out of the inside breast pocket of my jacket, I assume by the air being compressed violently around it. My Palm handheld, which was in my front pocket (I landed on my back), was crushed by the impact. I didn’t understand how that could be, until an engineer friend of mine pointed out, "Look, you strapped your Palm to a leg for cushioning and threw it over an 18-foot ledge. What did you think would happen?" That I understood.

Physiology follow-up: no bad pain until about twenty minutes afterward, but I felt hugely stunned, for want of a better word, like I’d been hit in the gut all over my body, and hard. As I mentioned, I was interested to note how comforting was the sound of my own voice. Also, as soon as I was able, I got to my feet, which I recognize now was probably not smart (I might have had a spinal injury, although I wasn’t thinking so clearly at the moment). I think this is another thing that makes you feel better—that is, I can’t be hurt that badly; I just stood up! Also, when the temporary ceiling that I mistook for a floor opened up as I stepped on it, I was so surprised that I was not surprised. I perceived what was happening but it was so totally unexpected and incongruous that I couldn’t process it. Because I couldn’t process it, I couldn’t react to it emotionally. I wasn’t scared, or alarmed, or anything. I think this kept me relaxed and might have saved me from much worse. From this I surmised that there is a slight lag between perception and processing, at least when the unexpected occurs.

Oh, and a language follow up: as I lay on my stomach in the emergency room of Jikei University hospital a couple hours later, clutching the bedsheets in agony, a cute young nurse (in the whole fetishistic outfit, done to perfection as only the Japanese can do 'em) came over. She asked me if I though I needed "itamidome." At the time, I didn’t know the word, but reasoned it out: "itami" is pain; "dome" sounded like the vocalized root of "tomeru," to stop. Ah, she’s talking about painkillers... yes, I said, please, bring me some of those. A minute later she was back, with, as she said, "zayaku." Great, I’m thinking through the waves of pain, another new word... "Kusuri no yaku?" I asked—"yaku, as in medicine?" She nodded encouragingly. Now what about that "za"... "Ginza no za?" I asked, in sudden, inspired dread. "Sou desu! Sou desu!" she responded, nodding vigorously and confirming my worst fears: the "za" in Ginza means "seat." She wanted to give me a suppository! And as bad as the pain was, the indignity of being suppositoried by this cute fetishized nurse would have been much worse, and I declined.

I wonder from time to time why she would want to give me a suppository. I asked a doctor friend once; he said, "Were you having trouble holding down liquids?" I answered no. He shrugged and said, "Maybe she like you." Hooo-boy...

Took me almost a year to heal completely, but no permanent damage. I feel exceptionally lucky. I think in a hundred alternative universes where this happened, I was crippled or killed every time. This was the only one where I could have walked away. In addition to the physics, physiology, and linguistics lessons, and the inherent humor value (given that I emerged okay from the whole thing), this was one of those near-death experiences that helps create perspective on the things that matter. I’m probably better off for having gone through it—but wouldn’t recommend trying it at home.

RO: Hi, Barry. My Jungle Red sisters usually ask the serious questions and I'm here for comic relief... I was lucky enough to be at Love is Murder two years ago when you were on the um, Hair panel (or was it the Stud Muffin panel?) moderated by Barb D'Amato. I won't repeat some of the rowdy questions that Barb allowed but... do you and Marcus Sakey really have a hair rivalry, and when you're at the same show do you share styling products?

BARRY: Marcus and I did have a rivalry, but then we realized we could never beat Jason Starr and just gave up. And have you seen Joe Konrath's flowing locks lately? Just posted lots of photos of that and more from April's Romantic Times in Orlando...

Thanks again, everyone, what a pleasure to be a guest here at Jungle Red!

ROBERTA: Thanks for stopping by Barry! And now the floor is open for your comments and questions...

On Internet Resources for Writers with Sal Towse

Internet-Resources.com/writers contains a treasure trove of lists within lists of links especially selected for writers. Writer Sal Towse is the brains and sweat behind it.

Sal started collecting links back in 2001. The site gets more than 1400 visitors from all over the world each week. It was named a top web site for writers by Writers Digest Press, and a couple of months back someone offered to buy her beautiful ad-free site. She turned them down.

Sal also blogs on http://www.internet-resources.com/writers/blog/

JRW: Welcome to Jungle Red Writers, Sal! Thanks for letting us pick your brain. Can you give us a quick overview of the range of links a writer finds on Writers’ Resources?

SAL: Internet-Resources.com grew from writing-related links I used to post to the Usenet newsgroup misc.writing. Folks there encouraged me to setup a separate site. As the collection grew, I realized for it to be navigable, I needed to sort it and breaking it into subject specific areas: networking, business, reference, fiction, non-fiction, word stuff, markets, publishers, agents.

JRW: Where would you recommend for writers looking to network with each other?

SAL: For mysteries: rec.arts.mystery and DorothyL are the grand old parties. Mystery Writers Forum, Short Mystery Fiction Society and others are also busy. SistersinCrime has a mailing list. There are Yahoo! mailing groups like CrimeSceneWriters and 4_Mystery_Addicts.

Facebook is also a good place for networking. There's a lot of chatter and connecting going on there. "Friend" the writers you know. Meet others in the comments threads and connect with them. Make plans to meet up at conferences or chat in e-mail. Most of the mystery writers I know, I first met at conferences or SinC or MWA meetings.

JRW: Where would you recommend for writers looking to connect with readers?

SAL: rec.arts.mystery and DorothyL, again. Other mailing lists. I first heard of Keith Snyder and Karin Slaughter on RAM (and then met them and heard them talk about their work at Bouchercon). Get out there. Behave yourself. Be interesting.

I've been intrigued by what writers like Barry Eisler and JAKonrath have done with their Facebook pages and blogs, encouraging readers to get involved, to show up for their signings and to look forward to their next book.

Laura Lippman has her fascinating Memory Project. Sometimes she's just talking about being on the road flogging her latest book. Other times she talking about memories and asking her readers to chip in their own memories. The discussions are far-ranging.

I meet and discover writers at Left Coast Crime, Bouchercon, and other conferences. If you can afford to go, do. You'll meet readers like me, and other writers too. My ace #1 hint for conferences? If you're new to all this, go by yourself. If you go with a buddy, it's far too easy to hang out with the buddy and not connect with people around you.

JRW: What about some prime places for folks researching and writing novels to know about?

SAL: I have a collection of links to media resources and experts -- for writers who need background or want to know whether their facts are accurate. I have a subsection specifically for Mystery/Crime Fiction which has links to forensic entomology sites and crime scene investigation, forensics, true crime.

Zeno Geradts' Forensic Site has an amazing collection of links. Gillian Roberts has her online tutorial HOW TO WRITE A MYSTERY. The Police List of Resources has information on ballistics and forensics. If you're writing historical fiction, the Web is awash with information for almost any period. You can also read contemporary works and, if the period is right, see contemporary photographs. The Library of Congress has amazing photographic resources.

Use Google Maps. Streetview is amazing. If you're in the right city, MapJack is even more useful than Google Streetview. I was reading a recent book that had the protagonist slipping into a hard-to-find parking space on Grant in front of Moose's. Moose's is no longer there (no fault of the writer), but Moose's was on Stockton at the edge of Washington Square Park. Grant is one block further east. Little errors like that are like nails on a chalkboard. Search for the restaurant's address, if you want to name a real restaurant, and make sure you place it on the correct street.

JRW: How about for the business of writing?

SAL: Business information comes in three flavors. You need information about contracts and copyright. (I toss e-publishing and POD publishing in this category too.) You also need to know about submissions -- the nuts and bolts, queries and synopses, markets. I have links to agents that are accepting manuscripts and another section with links to publishers that accept unagented manuscripts. And, after you have your book accepted, you need to worry about book signings, publicity, Web sites, blogs -- what can you do to market, publicize and promote your book when it's published.

JRW: I love that you have, on the same page, links to “Games and Distractions” alongside “Time Management and Procrastination.” What’s your favorite oddball category and web sites?

SAL: Ah, yes. My "Writer's Life" subsection. Chocolate. Pens. I'm a fiend for Sudoku and crosswords. I have a link to the Degree Confluence Project. Ever heard of it? The site encourages photographers to visit latitude/longitude intersections and take photographs, which they then post at the site along with a description of what the site was like, whether they were able to get EXACTLY to the confluence, what dangers they encountered. Angola has 106 confluences, of which six have been visited. I think there might be um. problems getting around in Angola. The USA has 3/4ths of its confluences covered. The site is a marvelous distraction, if you're looking for a distraction.

I also highly recommend sites like http://ifoundyourcamera.blogspot.com/ and http://www.moderna.org/lookatme/, sites with "lost" photographs to trigger your what-if bone, if you're looking for a creativity nudge.

JRW: Will you be adding to your lists?

SAL: I'm planning on adding a collection of links to blogs (writers, agents, publishers) at some point but that can get dicey. Hard to tell someone that their blog won't be included because it's not meaty enough and I'm trying to keep the number of links manageable.

I'm for sure adding (maybe this week!) a link to Janet Reid's QueryShark blog. Have you seen that? It's marvelous.

JRW: Sal will be hanging around Jungle Red today so this your chance to get your questions asked about Internet resources for writers. Ask away!

Good Golly, Miss Molly

RHYS:

It's been a whirlwind March for me so far. First I was being feted in Hawaii as guest of honor at Left Coast Crime. That was a surreal experience, being treated like royalty while the blue waters lapped the shores and the palm trees swayed in the wind. Of course I've always dreamed of being a celeb--what writer hasn't? But so many people wanted to have their photo taken with me and I am still overcome with embarrassment when people tell me they love my books. I never know what to say. I believe Agatha Christie had the same problem, so I'm in good company!

So I spent almost a week being queen of the convention, along with co-Guest of Honor Barry Eisler (and let me tell you that wasn't one of the harder tasks of my life) then I arrived home just in time for the release of my new Molly Murphy mystery, called IN A GILDED CAGE.

This story focuses on the role of women in the early Twentieth Century. Molly joins a suffragists march and gets involved with a group of Vassar grads. They all left college with visions of doing great things with their education, only to find themselves confined by convention to be mindless accessories to their husband's life and career once they marry. Molly is affected by this observation as she is considering getting married herself in the near future. Can a woman be her own person and be married, she wonders? Could any woman at that time?

Of course the answer was yes: Marie Curie was experimenting with radium beside her husband. Nelly Bly, who appears in my last Molly book, traveled the world as an investigative reporter while her husband stayed home. So all things were possible for exceptional women, but most were forced to abandon their own dreams when they said "I do."

And I think that was true until fairly recently. Even when I left college most women stayed home once they had children. My mother was an exception--she had always been a school teacher and later principal but even in the sixties when I graduated, women were assigned certain roles in life: teacher, nurse,or secretary were the usual expectations. Some girls went to medical school, some into research, but not many. So I was lucky to go straight into the BBC and learn all the aspects of broadcasting, finally settling down in the drama department where I started writing my own plays. Doubly lucky because I'd have made a rotten secretary or nurse!

So do we think that discrimination is now completely a thing of the past? Is any door open to our daughters today? Here in the Western world I'm sure the answer is yes, but we have to remind ourselves that there are still countries where women have no rights at all--where a woman can be forced to marry a man chosen by her family or killed by her family for not obeying them. And one of the places this is happening is not Afghanistan, but in Britain. Girls of Pakistani descent are being lured back to Pakistan and then married against their wishes. This has become so common that a special branch of the British secret service has been formed to rescue them. But after that they are never free, of course. Their families will hunt them down and they live in fear of their lives.I wrote about this in my last Constable Evans book, called Evanly Bodies. My editor didn't want to publish because it was too inflamatory, but I sent her a wad of newspaper cuttings to show how often it was happening.

I like to write about themes of social relevence as well as telling a good mystery story. I suspect I'm an activist at heart. Certainly a feminist! So what about my fellow JRRs. Did you ever find your job was made harder because you were a woman?

Do you think we've finally come a long way, baby?

HALLIE: First off, congratulAAAAtions on the new book. Can't wait to read it!! And I was so impressed by your singing at Left Coast...is there anything in your past you haven't told us about?

Yeah, I think we've come a very long way, baby. When I was a kid there were virtually no school sports programs for girls, and the choices career counselors talked about for us were your basic nurse, teacher, librarian, and maybe social worker. It's great that about half the crime novels that cross my desk are written by women. And both my daughters never hesitated about considering the widest array of career options. However, I also realize I was being naive to think, "if only women were in charge..." there'd be less self-serving policy making, general dishonesty and mean-spiritedness in politics. Sadly, we've come a long way in that department, too.

HANK: My life worked the other way. I applied for my very first job in broadcasting, at a radio station, in 1971 or so.

Short version: I said to the news director: NO, I've never been a reporter. NO, I've never worked in radio. NO, I didn't go to journalism school. But I've just left a job as assistant press secretary to a gubernatorial candidate. I know how reporters work, and what they need. I've written a million press releases and I know this city inside out.

Then I paused. Then I said, as I smiled sweetly: And your station's license is up for renewal right now at the FCC and you don't have any women working here.

I got the job!

Could it happen that way today? Nope. Because in my profession, at least, there are as many women as men, and getting equal pay, even in management jobs. I know we're not the norm.

ROBERTA: Yes, we've come a long way. I too regret the lack of women's sports teams when I was a kid. However, my thwarted ambitions were funneled into the Cassie Burdette golf mysteries so all was not lost:). But we still have a long way to go. Even in our own field, I believe women are still getting smaller advances and having more books published as paperback originals, which means fewer marketing dollars and reviews. And in general, not even counting the terrible things that go on in less progressive countries, women bear more of the burden of feeling they must make uncomfortable choices between career and motherhood.

JAN: First of all, congrats on the new book, Rhys. But having recently raised a teenage daughter -- and having done all the research on cyberporn for Teaser, I guess I don't think women have come that far. Yes, we've made progress in the career and equal pay front, but I see a tremendous amount of slippage from the 60s. The exploitation of young girls sexually is huge. And I've actually thrown shoes at the television images that make young girls think that they have to weigh 90 pounds and have size D-cup breasts.

The Internet and the insatiable US demand for pornography (and I'm not talking about Playboy or even Hustler-type porn, I'm talking about really sick stuff) has made for a brisk sex slave trade. In someways, I think we've actually gone backwards.

RHYS: One of the statistics that bothers me is the teen pregnancy rate. We are not winning this battle, expecially among the disadvantaged youth who see having a baby as one of the few accomplishments within their reach. These girls can only picture themselves of people of worth by becoming mothers.

So it seems we still have a way to go. It was interesting to see the reaction of certain men when Hilary Clinton ran for president. Pretty much the same things were said as the insults shouted during a suffragists' march in my new book. I think we're hard wired for gender in many ways. Let me know what you think of the new book.

Rhys