First Offenders

The End.

Without getting sappy or maudlin about this (okay - we actually are gonna be sappy and maudlin), we've decided that FO has run it's course and we've decided that we'd like to go out while we're on top.  We're just not sure what we're on top of.  But after half a decade, we've decided that it's time to say goodbye.  So, without further ado...

 

NEIL:  I came to this party late, so I feel a lot like Sammy Hagar joining Van Halen (or, as Jeff said, "like that nobody replacing that gay dude in Judas Priest").  Not to say that Bryon is in any way David Lee Roth-like.  Noooooo. No no no.  Nope.  Ain't happening.

 

I also came in with three books under my belt.  So instead of a First anything, I was (ahem) "experienced" (am I right, ladies?)

 

Once I took a shot, asked if I could join, and passed the audition (God, I hope there's no videotape of that hanging around), what I expected was to completely turn the collective stomach of the other four's fan base.  I'm talking firing off angry emails, a lot of  "How dare you!" and "Fire that guy and bring back sweet, sweet Bryon!"  Turned out all of you readers actually dig the nasty language and punk attitude.  You think "douchefucker" is a cool word.  You like violence and the messy consequences.  You're all a bunch of sick pervs.  I'm ashamed of you.  Please, hide your sins and beg to be cured of your filthy habits, you fuckers.

 

What I didn't expect, though, was that there was more to being an First Offender than simply posting on your assigned day.  There were nearly daily emails bouncing back and forth between all these cats, and I got to play along with that.  Some of the funniest and filthiest jokes by all of us never made the blog, but I'm sure their somewhere in my Gmail archives.  Ah, it was nice to be part of the band, even if all I did was play bass. 

 

I wish Lori, Karen, Jeff, and Alison all the best, and I'm sure we'll still pass the emails around, keep the conversation going.  The only difference is we'll keep it to ourselves and let the rest of you get on with your lives. 

 

So it's not you, it's us.  And, by the way, we're keeping all the cool CDs you left at our place.

 

KAREN:  Words can't say how much I've enjoyed this blog and the company here. From the get-go, we've had loads of fun and drawn you into our conversations and lives, hearing about yours and making new, lasting friendships. Considering that we decided to do this about 2 in the morning at Bouchercon in Chicago, it's been a great success. Who knew Jeff's "Let's start a group blog" would lead to so much? Going dark isn't easy, and at first I wanted to say it's sort of like the Beatles, we're all going in different directions, but that would mean one of us would end up forming Wings, which would be a freaking disaster and I know none of us is headed that way, so that analogy isn't very good. All I know is, I've made some wonderful friends here and I know we'll be seeing each other at other blogs, on Facebook and Twitter and at conferences. The conversation will continue. It's been a great ride.

 

ALISON:  Back when I first met Jeff, Karen and Lori at Bouchercon, I had no idea how to pronounce Bouchercon. It's amazing to me how much all of our lives have changed since then, yet this blog – dreamed up over one too many drinks and initially titled “Feels Like the First Time” – remains. Well, until now. After five years of girly music video-posting, Jim Born-insulting, cussing, song lyrics-debating, doggie pinups-admiring, glorious randomness (with occasional forays into talking about writing), Jeff, Lori, Karen, Neil and I are calling it quits. I’m sad. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But as Lori’s favorite musical artist Bruce Springsteen once said, “Good times got a way of coming to an end.” And these, I have to say, were some mighty good times.

 

LORI:  Things end. It’s a fact of life. Sometimes by choice, sometimes by unforeseen circumstances, sometimes with great resistance. I admit I’m not a big fan of change in most cases. So coming to the group decision to end the First Offenders blog after an almost five year run wasn’t an easy one.

For me, things have changed drastically since the inception of this blog. In 2005 I had one book out. I had just signed another contract for the second book in the Julie Collins series and I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. I was the only one of my newbie writer “blog” friends who didn’t have an agent. And my alter ego, Lorelei James, hadn’t been born, so to speak, but was merely another aspect of my storytelling side that I hoped to explore “someday” – Now, in 2010, I have five published mysteries under my belt, another one in edits for publication in 2011, and I’ve finished, in one form or another, sixteen erotic romances, with numbers seventeen and eighteen scheduled for the remainder of 2010. So yes, my focus has shifted, and once that happened, I knew other changes were inevitable.

It goes without saying that Jeff, Alison, Karen and I have gotten extremely close over the years (and Neil in the last year) and I know those friendships will continue offline. I’ve been humbled by the people/readers/writers/fans/industry professionals who’ve visited our little blog, whether or not they left comments. Invariably at some point during any writer’s conference I heard – “I love your guys’ blog—it’s a must read.” For the last five years I’ve checked the comments daily. I’ve laughed and cried and gotten pissed off, and busted my buttons with pride. We were one of the first mystery blog groups, and part of me is sad that’s ending. But with the constantly changing social media options, it’s gotten harder to sustain a weekly blog audience, while it’s gotten much easier—albeit more time consuming—to maintain an accessible web presence.

So farewell, FOFOs. And I leave you with the wise words of the great ‘80s pseudo-metal band Def Leppard – “It’s better to burn out…than fade away.”

 

JEFF:  Over the past five years, there has been an enormous amount of change in my life, not all of it good.  Some things I’ve made public here, some I haven’t.  But FO was the one constant positive thing in my life, the one place I knew I could let loose on anything or anyone if I so choose, the one thing I knew would be here each day in some form or another and I am in no way exaggerating when I tell you that I have depended on it to keep me sane at times.  It has been a comfort to me, a stabilizing force, which seems ridiculous when you consider the ridiculous crap we have pulled here.  But I can look at you with a straight face and mean that.  I’m not quite sure what Tuesday morning is going to be like.  If you’d asked me, though, that night in Chicago if I thought we’d still be posting in 2010, I would’ve laughed you right out of the room as I sucked down another Jim Beam and Coke.  So I am proud of what we’ve done here and I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

And while I won’t miss the Viagra spam or messing with Typepad on a regular basis, I will miss all of you and your opinions and your humor and your questions and your irreverence and your laughing at my Jim Born jokes and your friendship more than I can adequately explain.  This blog has lasted as long as it has not because of the five faces at the top, but because of the people who showed up here regularly and told a friend or two.  For all of that, we thank you.  We really thank you.

 

And to my four friends up there next to me on the masthead – your friendship is the most rewarding thing publishing has given me.  Thank you to each of you for so many different things.

Now wipe your tears, FOFOs.  Waste your time elsewhere.  And remember – we’ll always have the Internet.

     

 

 

Now What?

I recently finished work on a book that was so outside what I usually write that I'm still not sure if I should put my name on it.  Don't want to confuse people.  So as soon as my agent reads the damned thing (right, Al?) maybe we'll start deciding...then again, the whole thing might suck.

I also wrote an outline for a novel over the Christmas holidays that the agent really liked.  He said it was BIG.  It felt BIG.  It had BIG written all over it.  That's cool.  Apparently, BIG is what sells, and if I stumbled across a BIG idea, I'll sure as hell embrace it.  But with fifty pages under my belt, I now face the task of going back, starting over, and making it feel like me.  Some of it does.  More of it needs to.  Just needs to be the sort of story I want to tell (check) in the way I want to tell it (getting there).

Thing is, I've got a whole bunch of books I want to write.  Not all of them are BIG.  A lot of them are small.

Small in stature but not in atmosphere, character depth, or violence, both emotional and physical.  I just really dig noir and want to write lots of it, regardless of the market.  But again, you can't turn away from a BIG idea when it comes and slaps you in the face, either.  So I'm glad to write that, same as I'm glad to write literary short stories about Pentecostals and other strange folks, or bizarro stories that just don't make any goddamned sense, or a short poem once a year for no good reason.

You grab the story that gets you motivated, and tell the hell out of it--grind, grind grind.  You don't lower the stakes, you don't make apologies, you don't self-deprecate, and you don't admire your work any more than you have to.  You just tell the hell out of the story at hand, regardless of genre, mood, money, and fame.

So that's the answer to the question posed by the title.  When I hit, "Now What?", I always say, "The one you can't ignore."

So long, suckers.

FRIDAY BONUS MUSIC VIDEO:

 

Joyous...or Noxious?

Tis dandelion season and I'll admit: I love the little buggers. Their fuzzy, cheery yellow faces, the long, thick milky stalks, and their resilience--they can pop up in the damndest places. When we've had months of dead brown grass and piles of snow, something about those happy yellow flowers makes me smile. Seeing an entire clearing of dandelions takes me back to my childhood. We'd comb the ditches, pick bundles of the flowers, give a few to Mom (they were always dead and closed up the next morning) then we'd make necklaces and bracelets and rings. When my daughters were younger, they brought me "bouquets" like I'd brought my mom. I taught them how to make chains with the stems. We talked about great-grandma making her infamous dandelion wine. One little weed...so many memories. So yeah, I'm a little resistant to weed n' feed.

So...dandelions. Weed or flower? Love 'em or hate 'em?

And if you can pronounce Eyjafjallajokull, you're doing better than most

Planes are flying again over Europe. I've been watching all the news about the volcano (Eyjafjallajokull: have you heard anyone in the media pronounce this?) and been rather riveted by it, like most of the rest of the world. The fact that something like this could result in an airport standstill is fascinating.

That said, I'm not sure I'd be jumping on the first plane that takes off. I'm not even sure I'd be on the second or third or 20th plane. That ash is still up there, and although it's been reported that it's not nearly as much and "safe," it's still dicey to me.

I feel bad for the people of Iceland. First their country goes broke, now they've got volcanoes that disrupt the entire world's air travel. They're not having a good couple of years.

That said, I would love to go to Iceland some day. It's supposed to be beautiful (when not covered in ash) and they are, by extension, my people. It's only about a four hour flight from Boston, easy for even a weekend trip (after the ash diminishes).

I've read all of Arnaldur Indridason's crime novels. If you haven't, you should check them out, starting with JAR CITY. I've found they really should be read in order. You'll find out a lot about Iceland, fascinating facts like the fact that people are known by their first names, not their last, and they're listed as such in the phone book.

Have you been as fascinated by the volcano as I have? And would you be getting on a plane right now or wait until it's cleared a little more?

Karen

... and he danced way better than Kate Gosselin

By Alison

It's that time of year again -- the time when my friends (who are much more into planning in advance than me)  say, "Are you going to Bouchercon?" And I say, "Oh, I don't know. It's kind of expensive, with airfare and all." And they go, "Oh come on." And I go, "I'm telling you, I don't know." And they go, "It'll be fun." And I go, "Oh.... okay."

One of the main reasons why I almost always go, "Okay," (Anchorage being a notable exception -- that was waaay too expensive to stand up to the 'It'll be fun' argument.) is this: I start thinking of all the great stories I have from Bouchercons past.

The best experience I've ever had at a Bouchercon was the first panel I was ever on. I don't remember the name, but it was something like "How was your first time?"  and the best thing about it was that Jeff, Lori and Karen were all on that panel. You pretty much know the rest of the story. We've told it here a million times: Drinking,getting lost, "Let's do a blog!", more drinking, "Is there no place to get food around here?" more drinking, "Lori, please don't make me have another glass of w... oh, okay," White Hen,  "Did someone say something abot a blog?" Bla bla bla...

And since then I've had a million great and hilarious Bouchercon experiences -- from learning how to shoot a gun to discovering the male erotica of Jim Born... But I do have to say that for me, Bouchercon will always stand out in my mind as the event which enabled me to sit in a gay bar in Madison Wisconsin, watching Ken Bruen dancing on-stage to Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

How about you, FOs? What is the one moment that defines Bouchercon for you? AND: Are you going this year?

Stupid Test

Not much time this morning, but first things first:

The Sandwich - smokey turkey and mozzarella with a lemon dill sauce served on a jalapeno cheese roll.  Yeah.  From a place called Pearl Street Station.  Go there.  Now.

So I took an exam on Saturday, an exam that I've spent a good portion of the last several months studying for.  I'm getting my teaching license in the state of Texas and this was the content exam to teach middle school and high school English.  I worked on practice tests, read over all of the material I was given.  Felt pretty good going in.  Did all of the things you are supposed to do to relax.  Took Friday off, had a really nice, relaxing evening.  Slept well.  Got to the testing center early.

And then promptly bombed the exam.

Now, before you think this is just paranoia, let me tell you why its not.  I'm not one of those people who walk out of every test thinking I've failed.  I don't.  I generally have a good feeling coming out of most exams and I'm happy to tell you I did well when you are whining about how awful you did.  That's how I roll.

But a large portion of this exam consisted of things I wasn't prepared to answer, things that I did not prepare for.  So, yeah.  I'm not optimistic.  Not the end of the world, but not a whole lot of fun either.  I can take it again soon, to the tune of another $150. 

So tell us about a time you completely wiped out on a test or exam.

Jeff

MY HIPSTER DOUCHEBAG TENDENCIES

So last weekend I was in Denver for the Associated Writing Programs annual conference.  Over the past few years I've made some good friends there and met some amazing authors.  Lots of good contacts, and I'm especially glad to see genre fans, who are usually sniffed at by the hoity-toity literary types who dominate this thing, finally speaking up and being proud about it.  So that was good, especially the panel I moderated called "Crime, Horror, Sci-Fi, and Fantasy...Seriously", featuring Seth Harwood, Brian Evenson, Stephen Graham Jones, Tod Goldberg, and Mark Haskell Smith.  All of them were impressive as hell, and several of them shared my distaste for the overwhelming stink of hipster douchebagism permeating from the conference goers.

You know what I mean.  They think they're dressing "alternatively", bringing back styles ironically (like those colored leggings with the feet cut off, or ironic t-shirts, or bedhead), talking way too deeply about pop music even though they mainly listen to college bands that apparently picked up instruments for the first time last week after a spirited philosophy class.  And goddamned if they aren't the snobbiest people, those who think a spirited, "Hi, how ya doing?" deserves ridicule.  As for the writing part, they tend to love being writers, even though they don't write much.  And when they do, it's tortured, emotional, and always in need of revision.  No, strike that.  That's what they say about it.  The rest of us say "self-important, oh so clever, and bad".

The funny thing is that I don't think much has changed about them since I was in grad school ten years ago.  An entire generation, and no new ideas?  Or am I just tone deaf?

Confession time: I sometimes long to be a hipster douchebag.  I still wear Converse sneakers.  I had to buy the same goddamned black square plastic eyeglass frames that everyone else is wearing.  I still try to keep up with the new bands, but I'm pathetic at it and usually end up downloading Greg Kihn songs and Cinderella's Greatest Hits.  I look up all the hip places to hang out in Minneapolis, but I'm usually disappointed in them once I'm there (bad food, not enough food, too crowded, too loud, whatever) and I start looking around for the nearest Taco Bell and Target.  My wife and I shop at Whole Foods when we're near one because it seems cooler than our usual grocery store, which is Wal Mart.

The one thing that strikes me out as a hipster douchebag: I watch a lot of TV.  And not just TV on DVD.  I mean actually broadcast cable with commercials and everything.  Oh, the shame, right? (actually, if you're one of those who gets all sniffy and says, "I never watch TV.  I don't have cable," then fuck you with a spatula.)

See, it all comes down to the fact that I'm much more comfortable sinking back into the middle class vibe I grew up in rather than trying too hard to like the things literary writers are "supposed" to like. Maybe the literary hipster douchebags aren't even aware of the musk they're radiating (although I find that hard to believe.  It takes effort to look and sound like that).  Maybe that's just where they are the most comfortable with themselves.  It takes all kinds.  And I'm really kidding these HD's a bit.  I'm glad they're there, and I'm sometimes jealous of them because, let's face it, they stumble across some cool trends, music, and writers occasionally.  The Hipster Douchebags' unbridled enthusiasm for life and writing (even that shitty poetry they insist on) is what keeps MFA programs alive and growing, and I think that's a good thing.

But for fuck's sake, comb your hair and admit that instead of "needing to say what is unsayble", you just do it because you want to get laid by nerds.

PS - I don't hate poetry.  just shitty poetry.  And there's more of that in the world than there is good poetry.

Question of the day: admit it, you are just as influenced by peer pressure in the writing community too, right?

FRIDAY BONUS VIDEO:

Hard Work and a Little Pixie Dust

It seems conference season is starting up again, or maybe it's been going on all year and I just haven't paid attention. I head to Romantic Times Conference in Columbus, OH, on the 27th. I've mentioned several times that RT is my favorite con, hands down. It's expensive, but everything is these days, and it is a business write off for me so I don't think too much about it. Since I do "double duty" at RT, signing as both Lori and Lorelei, it's really the most bang for my buck, especially since the fan base is heavily weighted on the fan end, not with writers.

I remember the first conferences I attended. I made a point to go to every workshop that interested me, and being frustrated when two workshops I "needed" were held at the same time. I've heard some of my favorite authors speak. I've heard them explain their processes, their world building, their frustration with fan expectations not matching their series visions. All great stuff. Memorable for me as a struggling author before I was published, and then a first time author with a book under my belt.

But the more conferences I attended, the more books I wrote...the more lax I've gotten in attending those workshops and seminars held during conferences. And I've wondered why, lately, because I sure as hell don't think I know everything about the publishing world. Or about writing.

I'm scheduled to be on a sex in mysteries panel, and a writing in two genres panel at Romantic Times. I'm happy, in that I get to be on panels with other writer friends, talking about working within or outside genre constraints. I'm fairly comfortable with these types of panels, especially if there's interaction with the audience. But one thing I'm not comfortable with? How-to type panels focused on craft. How to create larger than life characters. How to make setting come alive. How to write steamy sex scenes. How to craft snappy dialogue. How to...well, write.

I'm not a teacher, heck, I'm a college dropout. I have the utmost admiration for those souls who spend their lives and careers breaking it down to the basics for the uninitiated, in any topic, be it English, or Geometry. Or writing. Maybe part of the reason I'd sweat that type of "workshop" is because I really have no idea how to explain my process beyond this:

1) ass in chair, every day
2) finish what you start, you can--and should--edit very very heavily after the rough draft

(Psst --and a little magic pixie dust. Because when a story gels, it gels, and sometimes even I have no idea how I pulled it off. And if I dissect it, I fear the little bit of magic will go away and never come back again)

And even putting that out there in public, I'll get authors who tell me "Oh, I NEVER edit, when I finish a book, it's done" - or "Follow an outline and you'll never NEED that bit of pixie dust" or something along those lines, letting me know the way I'm doing it is...well, wrong. Or at least not the way they're doing it. So I'm back to the mindset of what works for me, works for me, and doesn't work for everybody, so hey, can't we talk about something else?

What was the very best panel you've ever attended at a conference or a writer's workshop?

Distractify Me!

By Alison

I've got two -- count 'em -- TWO big projects I'm hoping to finish within the next few weeks: The graphic novel I'm writing with Megan Abbott (we've hit the third act!) and my non-graphic novel, AND SHE WAS (eye-deep in revisions and sinking fast...) I know I can do it.  I'm a hard worker and a caffeine lover, so I'm reasonably confident I can hunker down, get these suckers done and emerge with that wonderful mix of exhaustion and accomplishment.

There's only one problem: It's distraction season! 

Distraction season happens every year around this time -- the beautiful spring weather hits and stuff starts cropping up on TV and movie screens, in stores and restauarants and newsstands... all this stuff that, for me at least, is the human equivalent of little feathery fake mice dipped in catnip. I want to stop working, pounce on it and spend hours and hours in its presence.

Know what I'm saying? No? Okay, then. Here are a few examples:

1. The KFC Double Down: I would call this a textbook example of brilliant PR (I'm pretty sure I've seen it everywhere from Entertainment Tonight to the NPR website) But really now... It's a bacon and cheese sandwich with greasy chicken where the bread is supposed to be -- with no press at all, it would still be news.  The Double Down is not a meal - it's a pre-existing condition. And I want to try one. NOW.

2. Glee: My inner musical theater geek is jumping for joy (in a really embarassing way.) Truth be told, I find this show irresistable (rather than cringe-worthy) because it doesn't take itself too seriously. Even without all the fabulous dance numbers, the script is hilarious. And for God's sake, Idina is on it now!!!

3. 3-D: LOVE. IT. So far, I've seen Avatar 3-D, Alice in Wonderland 3-D and  (possibly my favorite of all) the Hubble Space Telescope 3-D movie. I now think everything  should be 3-D: the Super Bowl, porn, Double Down commercials... If magazines were in 3-D, it would singlehandedly save print media.

4.  Crystal Bowersox: The only reason I keep watching American Idol. I mean it. If it wasn't for her, I'd have hours of extra writing time on Tuesday and Wednesday nights.

5. Smart phones: An ad for one comes on, I drop everything and stare at it longingly. I'm still not jonesing for an iPad -- but give me a BlackBerry, Droid or iPhone (especially an iPhone) and -- much as Lori may make fun of me -- my life would be complete. Sorry, but I'm sick and tired of having to go to Kinkos to check my damn email when I'm in the city. And those phones are so cute. And the last time I saw Jeff, he laughed so hard at my cell phone and made me feel inadequate.

6. Treme: I've read the press and it sounds sooooo good. In fact, the only reason why I'm not living for this show right now is we don't get HBO. Once the DVDs come out, though, there's another thing to pull me away from writing.

Okay, it's about time I got back to work except... what's that bright and shiny thing over there?

What are your biggest springtime distractions?

Another book, another great cover

One of the cool things about having books come out so quickly one after the other is that I get to see the really fantastic covers drawn by the illustrious Craig Phillips. Each cover for my Ink series has been progressively more cool, with tiny details that give clues about the stories inside.

I was really uncertain what Craig would do with DRIVEN TO INK. There are Dean Martin impersonators, a drive-through wedding chapel, and a rat. When my editor asked if I had any suggestions, I said perhaps a little bridal veil on Brett's head, nothing more. Apparently that idea got shot down by the powers that be, but what they came up with is so incredible that I think it's now my favorite cover of all three.

What do you think?

 

Karen