First Offenders

It Really Friggin' Hurts

Since Sunday night, I've had this weird sharp pain in my left side. I just assumed it was any number of things that would eventually go away. However, after three days of pretending it didn't really hurt that bad and being badgered by my wife, I'm off to the doctor this morning to find out what it is. If you know me at all, the fact that I'm going to the doctor should tell you exactly how painful this damn thing in my side has become. I do NOT care for doctors and attempt to avoid them at all costs because I assume every visit is going to:

A. Be expensive
B. End with some sort of shot.

But after almost four days of saying "It's just a cramp" I figure I better talk to someone smarter than me. (Insert joke here.)

After exhaustive Internet research, I have three guesses as to what my ailment is:

1. Kidney stone
2. Pulled/torn muscle
3. Other

I have no idea whether I'm even close, but those two seem to match up with what I've got going on. Yippee. Anyway, I'm slightly bent over to the right as I type this and I can't do it for that long. So please feel free to discuss medical issues today.
Jeff

Just One Thing

Lori here ~

Like Alison, I'm in a deadline crunch. I got nothing interesting to say, folks. Unless you've got some pertinent info on calf pulling or the steering mechanisms in a John Deer tractor, I really don't have time to chat. Hell, I've barely been out of my house for over a week. I don't foresee myself seeing much besides the inside of my house, my laptop, my family if they INSIST and my coffee cup, at least until next Thursday when Thanksgiving rolls around and I have to be sociable. Have I mentioned that:

I HATE Thanksgiving?

Not that I'm not thankful, because I am soooo lucky, but I don't like the food. I don't like cleaning up after I've picked at the food I don't like. I don't like the naps everyone takes after stuffing themselves on the food I don't like. I don't like the stupid goddamn football games blaring. When my parents are in town, we go to their house for the big meal. Yes, my mom works hard on making food, and bless her for it. My 98 yr old grandma will be here. I'll be chewing the fat with my aunt and uncle. Less, you think...well, less of me, I've been trying to come up with one thing I like about Thanksgiving besides it's a day off from work for Mr. LGA, and a school break for the kiddos.

Oh, and this is so fucking lame I can't believe I'm admitting it: I like reading the ads for the great deals for "Black Friday" the biggest shopping day of the year. I fantasize about hauling my ass out of bed at 4:30 am and fighting with the other stupid folks at Target to buy a Barbie for .99 - because I know I won't do it. I wouldn't do it even if I didn't have two books to finish. But in my fantasy world? I get all my shopping done that day, I run into friends I haven't seen in years. I drink hot toddies at a local restaurant while snow swirls around the frosted window panes. Have I mentioned I'm thinner, richer and have great shoes, too?

So enlighten me FOFO's, what's your one favorite thing about Thanksgiving?

Smoked Coke, here I come!

By Alison

I've got three weeks to finish the immensely crappy first draft I'm working on. I'm pretty sure I'm going to make the deadline -- of course, at this point in the process, I'm equally as certain that I am the worst writer ever to take in oxygen.

I'm waiting, hoping for that moment that almost always comes, when I look at the stuff I've committed to the screen and think, Hey, this isn't half bad.... But until then, I'd rather focus on something a lot more appealing: the reward. After I turn in a draft, I like to treat myself to something superfluous. It doesn't have to be expensive -- after I turned in the first draft of TRASHED, I bought myself a pair of flashy, ten dollar earrings. But it does have to be something I'd never think about buying or doing in a normal frame of mind -- something that feels frivolous and fun. This draft has been so painful, I've been thinking my pointless treat this time needs to involve alcohol, and when I heard a friend of mine at work talking about a place in New York that she and her husband went to, I thought. Eureka. I've found my reward. The place is in SoHo, and they specialize in drinks that are "'scientifically based." When they went there, my friend told me, her husband ordered a "bourbon and smoked Coke."

"Smoked Coke?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "They smoke their own." Normally, I would have said something like, "I prefer my soda barbequed, with a nice, mesquite rub," but not the way I'm feeling now. I've been working my imagination so hard that when I'm done, I need to get out of my head and actually experience something. Smoked Coke is gonna be it. In 42 years on this planet, I've tasted a lot of weird stuff, but never cured cola and it's high time I did.  So when I'm done with this draft (and please let it be soon!) I'm getting a babysitter, dragging my husband to SoHo and saying, "Bourbon and Smoked Coke, please." Then, and only then can I say, "Yay for me! I'm done!"

Do you like to reward yourself when you've finished a draft? If so, what's your favorite reward?

Staying inside the lines

The blog tour is over, the book is in the book stores, I’m exhausted. And today I’m getting on a plane to L.A.  I was invited to speak at the Palos Verdes Woman’s Club’s 50th annual Books and Author Luncheon on Wednesday. I’ll be there with my good friend Patty Smiley, who has been gracious enough to offer me a place to hang my hat while on the West Coast. That’s what I love about being a mystery writer: Mystery writers are amazingly supportive. Coming to town? Need a bed? No problem.

Although I’m not big on flying these days, I am looking forward to the six-hour direct flight from Hartford. I’m bringing the laptop with me, so maybe I can finally finish this book proposal. There will be no Internet to lure me away; I will be in a confined place. And I will, of course, be on Xanax (it’s the only way I fly). What better way to not stress out about a proposal? Stripped of anxiety of all sorts, perhaps the couple of plot points that have been evading me will miraculously appear on my computer screen.

As I’ve said before, writing a proposal is not natural for me, but this time I’ve done something a little different. I’ve actually made a sort of outline tree. I’ve written two or three words for the backstory, the plot point, the characters, and I’ve been cutting and pasting and moving them all over the place, seeing where everything fits. This is working, surprisingly. It’s sorting out all those thoughts in my head and putting them in order. Granted, maybe not the order in which they will actually appear, but at least they’re there and organized slightly.

While I enjoy writing a book from the seat of my pants, there is something rather comforting knowing that I have a direction to start working toward.

Karen

P.S. I want to give a big shout-out to all those who followed my virtual tour last week and also my blog hosts: Carrie, Julia, Wendy, Iliana, Christina, The Lipstick Women, Clea, and Natasha. They were fantastic and made my blog tour a huge success! And while the tour is officially over,  Clair Lamb has asked me to guest on her blog Answer Girl on Friday. I will be writing about a favorite book that I own.

A little extracurricular activity

There's no new post here today, but you can check out Lori's guest blog post over at Jake's place at Novel Investigations. She talks about being a "regional" writer.

The DEAD OF THE DAY virtual book tour is still going on. Check out the schedule here.

For anyone who missed it, Alison guest blogged at Murderati earlier this week.

Jeff was busy being a Man of Mystery in San Diego last weekend. He never did tell us where he got that lovely lime green leisure suit.

Now Don't Tell Anyone

Dear Writers Who Have Yet To Cross Over The Threshold Into Publishedville And Who Are Letting That Obstacle Turn You Into One Big Mountain Of Bitterness,

I know you think we’re keeping something from you, but we’re not. I’ll say it one more time – we are not keeping any secrets from you.

I know that you want to believe that there is a secret handshake, some secret code that we’ve unlocked, some magic phrase that we discovered that allowed us to unlock the door to the publisher’s offices where they welcomed us in and then showered us with cash. (I’ll pause while the published folks giggle.)

You see, over the last few years, when I speak about publishing, I’m regularly hammered with one question over and over again – how did you get published? (Actually, this is the one question ALL writers get hammered with.) And when I answer it truthfully – when I talk about the time it took to write and rewrite the manuscript, when I explain that I received over 150 rejections before finding an agent who wanted me, when I talk about all the banging my head against a wall for several years – I can see the skepticism in your eyes. You give me a nice pity laugh and say “Well, that’s a great story.” And then you lean in closer and whisper “Yeah, but come on. Isn’t there an easier way for me to get published?” Then when I tell you no, there really isn’t an “easy” way to get published, you get kind of huffy about it and walk away, determined that I am lying and that I am keeping secrets from you.

I’m not sure why you think I’m full of shit when I tell you this. I am full of shit about a lot things, but this happens to be one that I am not. I have no reason to keep anything from you. In fact, I spend most of my time sharing everything I know with folks who want to publish a book. Everything I’ve learned in four years I am happy to share with anyone who would like to hear about it. In fact, the majority of writers I know are happy to help you in any way they can.

But they can’t write the book for you, they can’t rewrite the book for you, they can’t make an agent want to sign you and they can’t make an editor buy your book. There are no passwords, handshakes or phrases that will get you in the door. Get over it.

There are plenty of writers working to get published who get this. They have not let the bitterness overtake them and they continue to work, day after day, at honing their craft and at sending out query letters. They are willing to bang their heads against that wall because they know that’s how it’s done. They are plenty happy to let you keep searching for that secret we’re supposedly keeping from you. Makes it easier for them because they already understand you don’t. There is no substitute for hard work.

But from now on, just to let you know, I’m going to start lying. Because I can’t stand the doubting looks when I tell you “There is no secret.” I’m tired of them. When you come up to me at a conference or a signing or an event and ask for the easy way, I’m going to give you a big fat lie, because I know that’s what you’re looking for and it’ll make you happy.

“Yeah, sure, I can tell you what you need to know,” I’m going to say. Then I’ll lean in closer. “Here’s the password.” I’ll look around to make sure no one else is listening, like you’ve finally found the one person who will share the secret with you that you’ve so desperately been searching for (while you should’ve been writing your book) and then I’ll whisper it to you.

“The password is DavinciPotterOprah. Put that on all your manuscripts and query letters. Right at the top. That’ll get you in.”

You’ll nod, happy that you’ve finally broken down one of us uppity authors, knowing you were right all along and that we were just a bunch of selfish bastards who were trying to keep publishing all to ourselves.

And we’ll both walk away happy.

All the best,
Jeff

(Note: I know, I know. I promised you something three weeks ago that has yet to appear. This is what happens when you think you're smarter than you actually are. Fear not, though. I've called in the professionals and I think it'll be ready for next week. So keep twittling your thumbs until then.)

Keep Honking, I'm Reloading

Lori here~

Like Alison, I'm plugging away and under deadline. Between the promo for SHALLOW GRAVE, and then switching gears to finish book #4, I'm not feeling the "I wanna talk about writing" blog today, because my opinions can be found at these fine places this week:

I'll be guest blogging here Novel Investigations/J.Carson Black Blog on Friday, Nov. 9th

And...Everything you wanted to know about me here Lori Armstrong interview

Enough promo - let's talk about my love of bumper stickers, refrigerator magnets and T-shirts.

When we're on vacation, I don't buy snow globes or collectible spoons (a Midwest thing) but gravitate toward the shops which carry...clever, but often crude and raunchy sayings. Shocking I know. Ooh, and I even buy smart-ass stuff for my kids, who are probably hopelessly warped.

Here are some I found looking around my house this morning:

Latte - Italian for "You paid too much for that coffee."

God is busy: Can I help you?

Everything I know about life I learned from porn!

I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.

Eat right, exercise, die anyway.

My biggest fear is there is no such thing as PMS and this IS my personality.

Some I wanted to buy but didn't -

T-shirt - Ranch hands do it better - and - Cowgirls do it best in the dirt

T-shirt - When life gives you lemons, call your girlfriends and make margaritas

License plate holder - "My other ride is a cowboy"

Bumper sticker - My karma trumps your dogma

T-shirt - Women suck...at least the good ones do

T-shirt - Men...starting wars since the dawn of time

T-shirt - That's MR. Asshole to you.

Deadwood Gaming T-shirt - Liquor in the front; Poker in the rear

Jesus is coming, and is he pissed

Some pajamas I purchased for my daughters - (no they don't wear these in public)

Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them

You're dumb, it's annoying, go away

You suck and that's sad

Our youngest daughter told me about a shirt a girl at her school wore last week:
I got an A+ in shopping.  My sweet 11 yr old then added slyly, "Maybe that's why she has a D in math." Yes, I wiped away proud tears.

Anyone wanna share their faves?

Whyliner?

By Alison

I'm typing this from the deepest darkest pit of my rough draft deadline -- that keep-your-head-down-and-don't-look-at-all-the-crap-that-still-lies-ahead-or-else-you-will-go-completely-insane-and-scream-no-way-in-hell-am-I-going-to-make-this-deadline! time.

So... I don't want to talk about anything remotely connected with writing (except for this: SHALLOW GRAVE and DEAD OF THE DAY are out NOW -- so you better buy them!)

With that out of the way, I will bring up a non-writing-related topic that has been fascinating me lately in the same way that nine-car pileups and Britney fascinate me: Guyliner.

Yep, guys are wearing eyeliner now, which is nothing new. Bowie and Lou Reed did it in the 70s, and Elvis probably did it before that. In the 80s, I made a guy cry when I tried to do up his eyes like Simon LeBon for a costume party (we all went as Live Aid. I was Prince -- another guy who wore eyeliner back then.)

The thing that is new, though, is the word. Guyliner. I've read it, probably six or seven times in the past few days. It's part of the lexicon now, which means a lot. The invention of the phrase means society is making a concerted effort to masculinize eyeliner. This terrifies me. I'm afraid eyeliner, like those man purses (sorry. messenger bags.), will soon find its way onto all men rather than just the very young and/or gay ones, and I'll be sitting on the subway, and there will be some  stocky, 50-year-old straight guy wearing a bad suit and one of those blue-tooth things stuck to his ear, with black racoon smudges around his eyes because its hot and he hasn't blended properly.

Really, I've had nightmares more calming than that image.

Guys, please. I know we stole the whole pants thing from you. But that was ages ago. For the love of god, if you are any older or heavier than that guy from Fall Out Boy,  please... put the Maybeline down and back away from it slowly.

Thanks for letting me rant. Now, to make this about writing... two questions (answer one or both): Which recent addition to the lexicon annoys you the most?

Or, which male author would you most like to see in guyliner? 

Cyberspace: The Final Frontier

By Karen

Jeff keeps promising this never-been-done thing here at FO, but he's been thwarted by unfortunate circumstances and technology. Me, I'm planning something this week that I've never done before, although I know other writers have. And as of right now, it looks like everything's a go.

Starting tomorrow, the pub date for my third Annie Seymour mystery, DEAD OF THE DAY, I will be embarking on a book tour of the virtual kind. Every day through Sunday, I will be guest blogging or doing a Q&A on blogs.  I decided to try a virtual book tour, since I still get those butterflies when thinking about speaking in public and this is an easy way out.  Or so I thought until I had to write all those blog posts. I have no idea how someone could blog on a daily basis; my hat’s off to all of you who do!

This is a bit of an experiment, to see just how influential the Internet can be as far as exposure. And I’m not visiting only crime fiction blogs, but I will make stops at my friend Carrie’s knitting blog and three book blogs that became permanently bookmarked after reading Wendy, Christina, and Iliana’s posts every day. No, they’re not “professional” reviewers, but they read and they know how to write reviews that are just as good as any I’ve seen in print. All of the bloggers (who also include Julia Buckley at Poe’s Deadly Daughters, Natasha at Spy Scribbler, Clea Simon at Cats & Crime & Rock & Roll, and the lovely ladies at Lipstick Chronicles) deserve huge thanks for agreeing to participate in my endeavor.

Here’s my virtual blog tour schedule. Please take a few minutes and check my posts out each day!

Tuesday, Nov. 6
Every Word's a Purl
Guest blogger
And
Poe's Deadly Daughters
Q&A

Wednesday, Nov. 7
Musings of a Bookish Kitty
Guest blogger

Thursday, Nov. 8
Bookgirl's Nightstand
Q&A

Friday, Nov. 9
Book-a-rama
Guest blogger

Saturday, Nov. 10
Lipstick Chronicles
and
Cats & Crime & Rock & Roll
Guest blogger

Sunday, Nov. 11
Spy Scribbler
Guest blogger

Since Shelby's Not Here - Let's Peek In His Suitcase

Since Jeff has been promising us all sorts of cool shit for the last few weeks, and hasn't delivered - and now he's now on his way to the Men Of Mystery Conference in California, I thought we should peek into his suitcase and see the latest fashions all Men of Mystery should pack for a successful trip:

For hanging out in the room - and an extra matching one in case Jim Born shows up.

Here's what Jeff - now a bonafide Texan - is wearing to hang out in the bar (I was with him when he bought this at Billy Bob's)

And last, but not least, these suits will WOW them at the banquet!

Stay thirsty my friend! A creme de menthe spritzer won't show on these beauts if you spill it on yourself -