Brad Parks--With Friends Like These...

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Here at JRW we know we can always count on Brad Parks for a witty and entertaining post--as well as terrific thrillers. Today he's here to celebrate his latest, THE FLACK, and, well, I'll let him tell you about it!

With Friends Like These...

 

BRAD PARKS: Thanks, Deb! It’s always great to be back here at Jungle Red.

Everyone here knows I’m a rascal who likes to stir the pot, so today I’m going to ask you to think about a friend.

And not just any friend. Your best friend.

Hopefully you have one. Or maybe, if you’re really lucky, even more than one.

Whatever the case, you know who the person is: Your bestie. Your ride or die. Your rock. That person who would not only help you move, they’d help you move a body.

            You know, like the kind of friends you have here at Jungle Red. (Especially in the move-a-body department . . . I have it on good authority Rhys is an expert.)

My latest novel, The Flack, features two such friends.

Curt Hinton and Angel Reddish were college roommates at Northwestern who—despite differences in background and temperament—turn into close companions and confidantes, the kind of friends guys don’t always have anymore.

(It’s true: Did you know men are fifty percent more likely than women to report that they have zero close friends, according to the Survey Center on American Life? And people wonder why we die sooner.)

            Angel and Curt went their separate ways after college graduation but remained BFFs. Curt launched a career in journalism. Angel became a rising star in the logistics industry, eventually landing a spot as chief operating officer at Balco, the Bay Area Logistics Company.

            Which is how, at the beginning of The Flack, they are reunited. With Curt’s newspaper sliding into financial oblivion, Angel comes to the rescue, helping him land a job at Balco as vice president of corporate communications—a “flack” as they’re known in newspaper jargon.

            It’s a plush gig: a $350,000 salary; plus a housing stipend, a $50,000 signing bonus, and a free Rivian to zip around in. And it couldn’t come at a better time, since Curt’s wife is pregnant with their first child. It has that happily-ever-after feel to it . . .

Except—this being crime fiction—there has to be a twist, and there has to be a crime.

            It turns out Angel has been keeping a secret from Curt.

It’s a pretty big one.

And—this isn’t much of a spoiler, since it happens on page two—it gets Angel killed. As Curt begins to investigate, it sends him down a very dangerous road. I can’t say too much more (because then it would get spoiler-y), but it does make me think about friends and secrets and leads me to that stir-the-pot question I want to ask:

What’s the biggest secret your best friend ever kept from you?

How did it come to light? Did you understand why they didn’t tell you? Did it cause a rift in your relationship or were you able to forgive them?

 

I’ll be giving away a free autographed copy of The Flack to one random commenter. For more about me, visit bradparksbooks.com. For more about moving bodies, ask Rhys.

 

Seriously. She’s good.

 

International bestselling author Brad Parks is the only writer to have won the Shamus, Nero, and Lefty Awards, three of crime fiction’s most prestigious prizes. His novels have been translated into sixteen languages and won critical acclaim around the globe. The proud father of two terrific kids, he splits his time between Virginia and California.

DEBS: Okay, I'm snickering, and wondering just exactly what bodies Rhys has moved!

Readers, confess your bestie's secret--or just say "hi"--in the comments, and you'll be entered to win a copy of THE FLACK!

 

 

But--I Didn't Do It!

LUCY BURDETTE: I'm writing this on Tuesday afternoon, so do not come here for the latest breaking news and opinion, okay?

Well, okay, you can come for opinion. Today's guest, Brad Parks, is hilarious. If you are ever at an author dinner event, and worried about being, ahem, bored?  Sit by Brad. He is incredibly entertaining. And, I might add: Talented. His brand new book got a star from Publishers Weekly.  And that, darling readers, is difficult to obtain.

The gloriously starred thrilled is THE BOUNDARIES WE CROSS. The title implies instant conflict, right? And, we instantly know, as we open the book, that someone is crossing some line. Or...are they?

WHAT HAPPENED ON WEEK ZERO

   by Brad Parks

BRAD PARKS: It’s happened to me.

It’s happened to you.

I bet it’s even happened to Hank. And we all know Hank is perfect.

Still, there it is: someone accuses us of something we know we haven’t done. But we can’t prove it.

Sometimes it’s relatively benign. Did you eat the last cookie? Did you leave those dishes on the table? Did you forget to put the toilet seat down?

​(Okay, maybe that last one only applies to, ahem, a few select guest authors here at Jungle Red.)

​But other times . . .

​Did you steal? Did you cheat? Did you lie?

A false accusation is at the core of my new thriller, THE BOUNDARIES WE CROSS ,which features Charles Bliss, a young English teacher at a well-to-do Connecticut boarding school who is fired for having an inappropriate relationship with a student.

He swears he didn’t do it . . .

But when the student disappears under suspicious circumstances, Charles is the obvious—and only—suspect.

That’s the fictional setup. Though for me, and I’m sure for many of you, there’s an element of this book that’s very much nonfiction.

Do you remember the first week of the pandemic? I always refer to it as Week 0, because none of us even knew what had started. On Monday of that week, when all of us were still stumbling around blissfully maskless—and “the coronavirus” was a thing only people on Italian cruise ships were worried about—someone I loved accused me of having done something pretty terrible.

I knew I hadn’t done it.

But I also couldn’t prove it.

And so, as that horrible Week 0 progressed and our lives became incredibly small overnight (lockdown? what’s that??), I was dealing with a different drama. What I was accused of may never have happened. But the impact it was having on an important relationship in my life was quite real.

Thankfully, it resolved itself fairly quickly. By the next Monday, the person realized they had been mistaken. All was forgiven. (Julia would never have Clare let Russ off the hook so fast.)

But for me a seed was planted. I realized the false accusation—and that awful, sinking feeling of being unable to establish your innocence—would make a delicious setup for a novel. And I subjected poor Charles to 405 pages of sheer hell as a result.

What about the rest of you? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been falsely accused of doing? (I’m talking even worse than the toilet seat thing . . . which, for the record: It wasn’t me!)

Do you remember that awful feeling? Did you get it sorted out? Or is it still lingering?

LUCY: Great question!  We are eager to hear what you have to say, Reddies!

And:  One random commenter wins a free signed copy of THE BOUNDARIES WE CROSS. For more on Brad, visit his website .

What Does Brad Parks Blog Title Even Mean?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: What can I say. Brad Parks is incorrigible.  And he likes it when we say that, so we try not to say it, but yet, it’s true.

Incorrigible Yang to Hank’s Yin

By Brad Parks

The following is a confession that would no doubt be cheered, if dubiously, by many of my ex-girlfriends; and probably be questioned, even more dubiously, by my wife.

But here goes:

         

I finally wrote a book that helped me get in touch with my feelings.

         

Really. It’s my sixth novel featuring investigative reporter Carter Ross, and it’s called THE FRAUD (though that should not bring into question the sincerity of this confession).

         

I realize that as a guy and a thriller writer, I’m not supposed to admit I even have feelings. But if you’ll permit it, I’d like to recline on the Reds’ couch and get in touch with my inner Love Actually watcher.

         

Please understand, I was a journalist for many years. I wasn’t allowed to have feelings other than, “Boy, I’m glad I filed that story on time.”

         

I got my start as a sportswriter, where the number one rule is: no cheering in the press box. Then I switched over to news, where having feelings was a kind of professional taboo. As reporters, we were supposed to be impartial arbiters of world events. Feelings didn’t enter into the equation.

And yet, wow, sometimes they would get to me. I can remember covering a triple homicide trial where the state’s lone witness tying the alleged killer to the crime was a woman who only spoke up six months later, and only because she had been arrested on other charges. She admitted to being high on heroin at the time she saw the shooter, but she thought the guy’s last name was Scott, and that his first name started with a T.

         

The cops ran off a book with mug shots of all 53 T Scotts in their system. The woman looked at the first page and said, “That one.”

         

By that capricious accident of the alphabet—and because the cops were looking for any excuse to clear a triple homicide off their books—a man named Taqwi Scott was charged with three murders he clearly did not commit. He spent more than a year of his life in jail waiting for his day in court.

         

The only greater tragedy was the poor victims’ families. They had to watch this farce of a trial knowing their only shot at getting justice for their loved ones was gone long before the 45 minutes it took the jury to return a not guilty verdict.

         

When I got back to the newsroom that day, I was righteously outraged. I also had editors who recognized my anger and knew it had no place in the newspaper. The story I wrote was edited beyond recognition and buried on the county page. I begged to do a follow-up but was told to move on.

         

So I did.

         

Fast forward to 2013, to ten days before Christmas. A young lawyer named Dustin Friedland was shot and killed during a botched carjacking at The Mall at Short Hills. It was a terrible, tragic crime and because it happened at the most high-end shopping complex in one of the wealthiest towns in America, it became national news.

         

The reward for information leading to the capture of his killers grew to $41,000. After an exhaustive police manhunt, the band of carjackers responsible was tracked down and arrested.’

         

The next day—nine days before Christmas 2013—a man named Naeem Williams was gunned down on the streets of Newark, less than ten miles away, in the same county as Short Hills. It was a terrible, tragic crime and because it happened in one of the poorest cities in America, which averages a hundred murders a year, no one noticed.

         

The reward for information leading to the capture of his killers was $10,000. In a legal system where we are all supposedly created equal, one person was deemed to be worth four times more than another. There was no great effort put into finding his killer, who was never caught. I was, once again, righteously outraged.

         

The difference is, I was no longer a journalist. I was a novelist.

         

So I started writing a book about two murders: one high-profile, the other ignored; one involving a white victim, the other involving a black victim.

        

It was a new experience for me, actually being allowed to have feelings as I wrote, and then channeling them into some of my characters. Perhaps not coincidentally, the characters were also facing new situations in their lives that provoked emotional responses. Carter Ross’s girlfriend is pregnant. The editor-in-chief at his paper gets sick. I actually let Carter cry in one scene.

       

And while I’m sure Carter would say he was just having an allergic reaction, there’s no question to emotion in some of the scenes made it a better book. When my Kirkus review came out, and it called this novel “more deeply felt that Carter’s first five cases,” I don’t mind admitting I was thrilled. (So was my agent, but that’s another matter).

         

I realize that when it comes to writing with feeling, many of the Reds—and their regular visitors—are nuclear scientists who have learned to generate heat by splitting the atom, while I am still the chimpanzee who accidentally discovered fire.

        

So I’m curious to hear about your experiences: What role does has real-life emotion played in your fiction? How have your feelings informed your work?   

HANK: And see above for my additional question: What does the title of this essay even mean? Hey, pssst.  Listen, Brad's on tour (check his schedule here) for his much-praised new book.(Which does sound terrific--cannot wait tread it!)  Why don't you go to one of his events..and ask him?  

Okay, dear Brad, teasing. 

**********************

Brad Parks is the only author to have won the Shamus, Nero and Lefty Awards. Now that he has made this confession, he is weeping into a handkerchief and reading a Nicholas Sparks novel. For more on Brad, visit www.BradParksBooks.com.

Brad Parks and the Moonlighting Dilemma

 DEBORAH CROMBIE: Here at JRW we are always thrilled to have a visit from the talented, erudite (take that, Brad!) and always entertaining Brad Parks! And Brad's topic today is one that is dear to my heart, as I've dealt with the same "Will They/Won't They and what the heck happens if they do?" dilemma in my own books.

First, here's a bit about Brad's new book, The Player--

When he hears residents of a Newark neighborhood are getting sick—and even dying—from a strange disease, investigative reporter Carter Ross dives into the story—so deep he comes down with the illness himself. With even more motivation to track down the source of the disease, Carter soon hits upon a nearby construction site. But when the project's developer is found dead, and his mob ties surface, Carter knows he's looking at a story much bigger—and with even more dangerous consequences—than an environmental hazard.
Back in the newsroom, Carter has his hands full with his current girlfriend and with the paper's newest eager intern, not to mention his boss and former girlfriend Tina Thompson, who has some news for Carter that's about to make tangling with the mob seem simple by comparison... 

It was a hard choice to pick just one quote from the praise for this book, but in the end I went with Booklist:

"Compulsively readable. . . Ink-stained heroes are a dying breed. Enjoy this one while you can."
   
But then I was already hooked just from the synopsis...

Take it away, Brad!

BRAD PARKS:

The show originally aired Sept. 20, 1977. It was the third episode in the fifth season of Happy Days, then one of television’s most popular programs, and it was given the innocuous title “Hollywood: Part 3.”

            By most measures, it was another rousing success for the franchise. It pulled a 50-plus share—these days, only the Super Bowl surpasses a number like that—and was watched by more than thirty million people.

            Sadly, it will not be remembered for any of that.

It will be remembered as the one where Fonzie jumped the shark.

Thanks to YouTube, which assures that no moment of ignominy is ever lost, you can judge the scene’s merits for yourself. Go ahead. I’ll wait. Just don’t get lost in shark attack videos for twenty minutes like I did. It’s only a 45-second clip…

 

… Okay, so first reaction: Wow, was that really a future Academy Award-winning director driving the boat?

Second reaction: Pretty bad, right?

Now, let’s be clear, I am theoretically here at Jungle Red to pimp a new book—it’s called THE PLAYER, it got some starred reviews, please buy it—but I am mostly here to pump the Reds and the rest of the salon dwellers for your collected wisdom about a writing problem I’ve been pondering.

But first back to the Fonz. As all except for a few iceberg-stranded Inuit know, that scene ended up inspiring the website, www.jumptheshark.com, which invited users to opine about the moment

their favorite shows passed their sell-by date. In the early days of the internet—we’re talking 1997 here folks—it quickly became a sensation.

While the site no longer exists, “jump the shark” has solidified its place in the modern lexicon to the point where it is so overused—do we really need to talk about when a politician has jumped the shark?—the phrase, itself, is in danger of jumping the shark.

But what I really want to explore is one of the most heartbreakingly common causes of JTS Syndrome: when two characters whose sexual tension has been a primary source of conflict in a long story arc finally get it on.

This sad turn of events is perhaps best captured by the eighties classic Moonlighting. When Dave and Maddie finally got together, a show that had Americans huddled around their 28-inch round-screen televisions went straight into the tank.

            Now, let’s be clear, since we’re all readers: book series can jump the shark, too. We can all think of authors who charmed us with their early work only to disappoint us later. But we’ll mostly be too polite (cough Janet Evanovich cough) to mention them.

            Nevertheless, I’ve been thinking about this a lot because of a writing dilemma I’m currently having. In THE PLAYER, the aforementioned fifth installment of my series featuring sometimes dashing investigative reporter Carter Ross, two characters who have been gravitating towards one another for quite some time end up getting even more enmeshed. (I won’t give away more, though all twenty-eight of my fans can probably guess who I’m talking about).

            The question is: what do I do now? In some ways, events have conspired to the point where it would be unrealistic for the characters not to get together.

            On the other hand, if I let them have their Happily Ever After, would their matrimony lead to shark-jumping?

            Now, I’d like to think the relentless pacing of my novels, the layers of suspense that I build—to say nothing of my deathless prose—make it impossible for the series to even come close to hurtling any cartilaginous marine fishes.

But I bet the writers at Moonlighting thought that, too. And look how that turned out.

            Clearly, the consummation of a longstanding relationship can be done well. Going back to the television world, I think of the show Castle. When Richard Castle and Kate Beckett got together at the beginning of this season, the show’s intensely loyal following—which I count myself among—braced for the worst. Yet we’ve been rewarded with another marvelously entertaining season. The interplay between Castle and Beckett has changed, obviously, but it’s as delightful as ever.

The question is: what separates Castle from Moonlighting? How do you get two characters together yet still keep it interesting? Do you have to find a way to keep some kind of dynamic tension between the lovers? Or do you run the risk of jumping the shark even more, like Moonlighting did when it had Maddie marry some dude she had just met on a train in a lame attempt to keep her and Dave apart?

Help me Reds! You’re my only hope.

Brad Parks is the only author in history to have won the Shamus, Nero and Lefty Awards. His latest book, THE PLAYER, received starred reviews from Kirkus and Library Journal. RT Book Reviews made it a Top Pick for March, saying, “Parks has quietly entered the top echelon of the mystery field.” The Reds know this is absurd, since Brad has never done anything quietly in his life. Nevertheless, you can visit him at www.BradParksBooks.com.

DEBS: So, readers, tell Brad (and us!) what you think? (If you can tear yourself away from watching YouTube videos of the Fonz...) Is it possible to overcome the Moonlighting Syndrome?

Never on a Friday--Brad Parks talks about S*x

RHYS BOWEN: We get all kinds of guests on Jungle Red. Some are erudite, some have fascinating skills to share with us, and some are...some are like Brad Parks. Naughty, pushing the envelope and we never quite know what he's going to say. But fun.

Brad is back again with a new book called The Good Cop and heaven knows where he's going this time! but please don't believe a word he says!

By Brad Parks

Noted Sexologist

            Good morning Reds, please take your seats. Thank you. What’s that Ms. Brogan www.janbrogan.com? No, you don’t have to sit in alphabetical order. I know how you feel about being stuck next to Ms.Burdette all the time.

            That’s good. Now, Ms. Bowen has been kind enough to invite me here to the Salon, and I plan to talk about sex in crime fiction. But I’d like to set some ground rules first. We’re not going to do it in the sly, winking way that blogs often handle this topic. There will be no schoolgirl tittering; no inappropriate innuendo; no thinly disguised anatomical references that involve animals, fruits or vegetables. We’re going to discuss this like mature, sober-minded adults who...

            Yes, what is it, Ms. Spencer-Fleming...

            No, we do not want to hear about the time you and Ross “did the matrimonial mambo” in a five-foot snow bank. See, that’s the kind sophomoric callowness we’re simply not going to tolerate. (Though I suppose I should expect no less from the woman who, on the occasion of receiving the prestigious Nero Award from the Wolfe Pack literary society, was base enough to point out that the society’s short-form fiction prize – the Black Orchid Novella Award – had an acronym that sounded similar to how Mainers pronounce the popular slang term for an erection).

            Anyhow, where was I? Ah, yes. Sex in crime fiction. As I was explaining, we’re not going to use euphemisms like “taking the skin boat to tuna town”; or “doing squat jumps in the cucumber patch”; or “visiting the love taco stand.” We’re going to engage in an intelligent discussion of when we should let our characters have sex, how we should handle it, and the implications for the story as a...

            What is it Ms. Harris?...

            Actually, I did not know you could do that with a garden trowel. That’s very interesting, but maybe that’s a better tidbit to save for when you decide to have the Dirt Nap series cross over into the erotic genre.

            So, moving on, this subject recently became pertinent to me because in my first three novels, the protagonist, an investigative reporter named Carter Ross, abstains from intercourse with any of several potential partners. This was not necessarily out of any physical disability – Carter is healthy enough for sexual activity – but it never happened naturally within in the flow of the plot.

            However, when it came time to write the fourth book, THE GOOD COP, which released this week, I decided that in order to further develop his story arc, he might need to raise the emotional stakes of his relationship with a certain female character. (For the record: This was not in response to readers constantly asking me, to use a certain crass colloquialism, when I was going to “let Carter get laid.”)

            I approached this gently, as I am aware that I created a character who is very much like me – I am a former newspaper reporter, and we’re both 6-foot-1, 185 pounds, with brown hair, blue eyes and certain fondness for pleated pants – and I didn’t want to even give readers the suggestion that I myself might...

            Yes, Ms. Ephron, I’m aware I have rather large hands, but I don’t think that...

            No, I’m not telling you my shoe size.

            Now, as I was just starting to explain, I believe sex must be handled carefully in novels. Yes, it’s a natural part of life. But so is going to the bathroom, and we don’t show our characters doing that. So as Carter and this particular character began certain courting rituals familiar to the species H. sapiens, I...

            Actually, Ms. Crombie  I don’t explicitly state what position the characters used. I really didn’t feel that particular detail lent to the scene’s dramatic thrust...

            Okay, okay, you in back, stop giggling. I admit “dramatic thrust” was a poor choice of phrase. Let’s say it didn’t add to the narrative push...

            ...Sorry, I should say that I didn’t want the pacing to grind to a...

            ...Strike that. I meant that some readers felt that detail would stick out as...

            Right. Never mind. It just didn’t add to the scene, all right?

            Now, continuing with our discussion, I write what I consider to be reality-based novels. So it was important to me that this sex scene had a certain verisimilitude that...

            No, Ms. Spencer-Fleming, that does not mean the chapter only takes three minutes to read...

            And, no, it doesn’t mean all the male readers will finish it first! Please I’m trying to foster a thoughtful discussion about this subject, one that I hope will continue with a robust dialogue in the comments section after the blog post is over. I want readers to be able to comment on how they prefer to see sex handled in fiction, and we can’t do that if you Reds keep interrupting me with this kind of facile...

            What’s that, Ms. Ryan?... 

            Oh. Really?...

            Is that so?...

            Yes, well, uh, you might want to see me after class.

Brad Parks www.bradparksbooks.com is a Shamus- and Nero-Award winning author of four novels. Booklist gave his latest, THE GOOD COP, a starred review, calling it “a tautly written thriller with charm and humor.” Library Journal said, “Parks’s award-winning series is essential reading.” He has two children so he has had sex at least twice.