A cop, a Brit, a deb, a B-school grad, a guy with good hair, and a wisecracking lawyer wrestle with the naked truth about literature and life.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Make Me Laugh, Clown!
James O. Born Humor. It’s important to me. I like to read it, see it, hear and find it in unusual places. I even tried to put the often crude humor of cops into my books. My friends provide a lot of humor, that’s one of the reasons they’re my friends. We share a certain way of looking at things that make us laugh.
I have a few examples today to help you realize that men never outgrow a juvenile sense of humor. I’m not saying the contributors are juvenile or immature. I’m just saying that I am.
First and two of my favorites come from blogger, writer and all around good guy Paul Guyot.
It should be noted that Mr. Guyot’s entry in the Blue Religion anthology, What a Wonderful World, about a St. Louis cop, has been universally pointed out as excellent and I concur.
When it comes to photos, Mr. Guyot is like a ninja. The best I could find is from David Montgomery's excellent blog Crime Ficion Dossier.
From left to right: Tess Gerritsen, Lee Child (tall guy in back), Paul Guyot, David Montgomery (with the mellon-sized head) and I don't know the pretty woman on the far right. (Don't tell Barry Eisler I said that becuase he can break my arms).
Hoping to remain slightly more anonymous is a woman I work with, named Lisa, who has a classic cop sense of humor. Unfortunately much of what she sends me is not appropriate for human viewing. She got me with this one last week. Under the guise of an “officer safety” announcement, I clicked on the PowerPoint slide and got a flashing message: "Downloading Porn" and a loud alarm sounds from your computer.
She also sent me this photo: Having to do with different ways to reprimand children.
Jeff Shelby is probably the only one immature enough to make me laugh at almost everything he sends me. I’ve already posted his Youtube find of the Pilipino prison dancing to Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Even CNN showcased the short clip this week.
He also sent me this photo that shows he should be a cop because he can recognize a douche bag as quickly as anyone.
These are two more that Shelby sent me that just make me laugh. Thanks for posting your bad reviews last week. That was a lot of fun.
Any examples of humor now are greatly appreciated. Let’s have them. Make me laugh, clown.
Q. Is it possible to write three (3) cliches in one (1) sentence? Elmo Klump, Third Grade, Worcestershire, MA
A. Yes, if your name is Barbara Walter's and you've written your autobio entitled "Audition" (subtitle: "I shagged Senator Brooke and wanted to shag Fidel Castro.") "Just before the ax fell, lightning struck and my life changed never to be the same again."
Q. Does Barack Obama remind you of Adlai Stevenson with charisma? Estes Kefauver, Turkey Point, TN
A. Not a darn bit. As proof, check out this Wikipedia description of Stevenson's race against (Military Hero!) Dwight Eisenhower.
"Although Stevenson's eloquent oratory and thoughtful, stylish demeanor thrilled many intellectuals and members of the nation's academic community, the Republicans and some working-class Democrats ridiculed what they perceived as his indecisive, aristocratic air. During the 1952 campaign Stewart Alsop, a powerful Connecticut Republican and the brother of newspaper columnist Joseph Alsop, labeled Stevenson an "egghead", based on his baldness and intellectual air."
By the way, I find your question "elitist."
Q. How can Senator Obama be both a Muslim (and cousin of Osama bin Laden) and a member of a Christian church whose pastor wants to hang President Bush by his testicles from the Lincoln Memorial? (P.S. I heard this on Fox News Channel). Elmer Porkrinder, Bark ARK
A. The Answer man is clueless. Go ask Sean Hannity.
I was a featured author this past weekend at the Literary Guild of Orange County’s 15th Annual Festival of Women Authors, founded by Mystery Writers of America Raven Award winner, the indefatigable Joan Hansen. Each year, a panel of judges reads books, books, and more books and then taps eight diverse women writers to appear at the event. The 2008 authors were:
Maria Amparo Escandon’s novel, Esperanza’s Box of Saints, was translated into 21 languages and is available in 89 countries. She also wrote the screenplay for the film, which John Sayles produced.
Debby Applegate has a Ph.D. from Yale. In 2006, The Most Famous Man in America, her biography of preacher Henry Beecher Stowe (Harriet’s brother) was a finalist for the National Book Award. In 2007, the Pulitzer committee awarded the book a Pulitzer Prize for biography.
Not only was Christine Conrad an editor for Bantam and Warner Books, she also writes non fiction books as well as screenplays, including Junior, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny Di Vito. She recently released her debut novel called Mademoiselle Benoir.
Nicole Mones was an entrepreneur in 1970’s China before young American women were allowed to do such things. She speaks fluent Chinese and has written three acclaimed novels based on her experiences: Lost in Translation (not the movie), A Cup of Light, and The Last Chinese Chef.
Mim Eichler Rivas is a biographer, ghostwriter, and spokesperson for animal welfare, non-violence, civil rights, and literacy. She co-wrote the film The Pursuit of Happyness, starring Will Smith and the bestselling book Finding Fish, the story of screenwriter Antwone Fisher.
Ann Stalcup is the author of ten children’s books. She has also published numerous other books and articles about her travels around the world.
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni has a Ph.D. from Berkeley and writes novels about the clash between Indian and American values. She is a winner of the Allen Ginsburg Poetry Prize and many other awards. Her novels include Sister of My Heart, The Mistress of Spices, and The Vine of Desire.
All are smart, talented, and amusing women.
And then there was me.
Sheesh!
At the author dinner, we each had to give a 5-minute talk about our accomplishments. I listened to my fellow writers, and when it was my turn, I cleared my throat.
“It’s such an honor to be here but something has been bothering me all evening and I just have to clear the air…Um, you know I’m not Jane Smiley. Right?
That got a big laugh, but I was only half joking. There is only one mystery writer selected each year and many of the previous authors have gone on to become the crème de la crème of crime fiction, including our very own Jacqueline Winspear, who was a featured author in 2005.
My fourth book is due out June 3, but because 600 readers, educators, and librarians were coming together to honor women writers and raise money for literary scholarships, my publisher allowed the Guild to sell COOL CACHE before the official release date.
On Saturday, I walked into the book room and saw towering stacks of each of my four books, casting long shadows on the carpet. Having just driven 250 miles the previous weekend to sell only one book, my heart sank as I imagined all of those novels flying back to New York unwanted and unsold.
It was my first look at COOL, so I bought one copy for my mother for Mother’s Day. I dedicated the book to her and to my dad who died before he saw any of novels in print. The cover is beautiful. My name is in LARGE print. He would have been so proud. I held the tome in my arms like a new baby, loving it more than I imagined I would.
“I’ll buy any books that are left over,” I said to the bookseller, apologetically, hoping my charge card wouldn’t explode when the register uttered its final ka-chink.
At ten o’clock, the bookseller found me in the ballroom and whispered in my ear. “Your books are selling like hotcakes. Do you have any more in the trunk of your car?”
I’m a writer. Of course, I have books in the trunk of my car. Do I ever have occasion to loan them to a bookseller? Rarely. But I didn't have any copies of COOL CACHE except the one I bought for my mother. I dashed out to the parking lot and lugged my box into the bookstore. By 10:30, readers were telling me my books were sold out. Did I have any more?
"I'm sure there's some mistake," I replied. "Check again."
By the time my breakout session began at 11:00 a.m., I was told that every single book was gone. Sold.
I was stunned. It’s not that my books haven’t sold out at previous signings, but not in such large quantities and not in such a short amount of time. It’s not even that my books haven’t sold in triple digits at a single event, but truthfully, that happens mostly when my mother goes through the line forty times in forty different disguises. So what happened? Was it something I said? Or was it just a group of superwomen supporting a good cause? Regardless, it was just about the most fun I've ever had at a book event.
Have you ever been happily or unhappily blindsided by expectatations? Dish, babies.
With a deadline fast approaching, it’s a wonder I can do anything but use my writing time to add to my manuscript, racing forth towards the magic 100,000 words from which – with a bit of luck, my sixth novel will be hewn. But here I am, at Naked Authors, grateful for the interruption in my train of thought.
Aw, heck, why don’t I just admit it – at this stage in the game, my so-called creative mind seeks out distractions like a forest seeks out fire after forty years of drought. And it’s amazing what I can come up with.
Cleaning the keyboard is a favorite distraction. Ever since I took a painting class a few years ago and discovered that one of those flat brushes was just the right size to skim between the keys to collect fluff, breadcrumbs, chocolate fragments and even splinters of walnut, I have had that brush close to hand so that I can get down to some serious computerwork at a second’s notice.
Walking the dog doubles as “thinking time” and ever since I read in The Tao of Equus, that time spent with horses jump-starts creativity, I have justified every moment spent in the saddle, no matter how close that deadline.
Washing the dog is a good one. There I am, working away, crafting my sentences, bringing the movie in my head to the blank page, when ... what was that whiff that just caught the end of my nose? Sally, the senior citizen of the house has just walked into my office and is clearly in need of a bath. Never mind that no one else can smell “dog” and she’s never been one of those whiffy dogs anyway, it’s as good a time as any to get out the bucket, hose, shampoo and towels and lather the old girl into submission – oh, what deadline?
On Tuesday my folks arrived from England to stay, and decided to stay at my brother’s house because they knew I had a deadline looming. Nice of them. I should add that my brother lives around the corner, so it’s important, because they’ve come all this way, for me to drop in on them, just to check, after all, you never know, do you?
I have used excuse after excuse not to write when I know I should be writing, when it’s the thing I most want to do but for some reason noodling around in the depths of prevarication seems to be the only thing I can accomplish with any level of expertise. Now, why is that? Why do we fart around when we should be working?
And here’s the interesting thing: When I had a full-time job and only dreamed of what it must be like to be a full-time writer, I never wasted one second. There was no setting aside that moment before I hit the page running, there was no excuse for not settling at my desk – I had so little precious writing time, that I wasted not one second.
My saving grace is that, ages ago I read the best book on writing on the market – in my humble opinion: On Writing by Stephen King. It’s the only book I have ever read by Mr. King, because I can’t read horror – it scares me too much – but to my mind, it is the best. You’ve probably heard me quote this before, but Mr. King maintains that a writer can complete the first draft of a novel in twelve weeks, based on a minimum daily output of 1200 words. Right there and then, my output goal became 1200 words, and seeing as I wrote my last novel in two months, sometimes I write a bit more. So, I noodle and I brush the keyboard, and I ride a horse and I wash/walk the dog – but I always feel as if I have to answer to Mr. King if I write less than my daily due.
And right now, because I clocked up the magic number today, I’m off for a cup of tea. Oh, that’s another one – stopping for yet another cup of tea ....
What’s your favorite writerly method of prevarication? (And Paul, that shoulder is way too painful to count – hope it heals soon.)
Happy Mother's Day. Ooops, better stop writing and nip out for a card ....
We are an eclectic group of crime novelists whose work includes traditional mysteries, noir, and thrillers many of which are set in locales such as England, New York, Florida, and Los Angeles. Our observations will be as varied as our writing, and we hope you enjoy reading what we have to say. Please join the conversation by posting your comments. If you want to e-mail any of our posts to friends, enemies, or ex-spouses, just click on the envelope icon at the bottom of the text.
These are two more that Shelby sent me that just make me laugh.
me. I’ve already posted his Youtube find of the Pilipino prison dancing to Michael 
Jackson’s Thriller. Even CNN showcased the short clip this week.
me. I’ve already posted his Youtube find of the Pilipino prison dancing to Michael 
Jackson’s Thriller. Even CNN showcased the short clip this week.
