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Archive for March, 2012|Monthly archive page

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The mercurial tastes of readers . . .

In books on March 29, 2012 at 8:55 am

Why do so many books fail to make a big impression on the public, while others become blockbusters? This is a question I’ve been pondering since the emergence of Fifty Shades of Grey, the book dubbed “Mommy Porn” by the press, which has become a sales phenomenon. What started out as a piece of Twilight fan fiction on the Web has morphed into a New York Times mega-seller, earning author E.L. James and the small Australian press that initially published the book a six-figure deal from Vintage. According to the Los Angeles Times, the major studios are lining up to purchase the film rights.

Richard Perry/New York Times

For those who might not be familiar with the story, Fifty Shades of Grey chronicles the sexual adventures of twenty-something literature student Anastasia Steel, apparently a virgin at the beginning of the book, and her sadomasochistic boyfriend, young billionaire Christian Grey. The book, according to the articles I’ve read (seriously, I haven’t read the book), is pretty much one long sex scene, replete with hardcore bondage, domination, and other things that would have made Lady Chatterley blush. Make no mistake, I’m no prude. The subject matter is not one I find offensive—I’m simply curious about the book’s popularity.

I don’t begrudge James her success. Indeed, more power to her. But what is it about the book that’s fueling its overwhelming popularity? Is it simply sex? If that’s the answer, does this mean Henry Miller’s books will start appearing on the bestseller lists? What was it about Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy that spawned a similar frenzy? I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and its two sequels and enjoyed them all, but I’m at a loss to explain why those books in particular struck such a powerful chord with people. It’s a tragedy Larsson didn’t live long enough to see his books become the pop-culture phenomenon they did.

What I not only find puzzling–but disturbing–is Snooki, whose book . . . I can’t even finish typing this sentence. Let’s move on.

I’m currently reading Into Africa by adventurer Martin Dugard. The book details Henry Stanley’s epic 1871 search for missing explorer David Livingstone in the heart of Africa (their eventual meeting was immortalized by Stanley’s famous greeting: “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”). The book is a stellar adventure story written in a lively manner that almost dares the reader not to turn the page. It’s one of the best works of narrative nonfiction I’ve picked up in a long while and reads like a real-life Indiana Jones story.

It’s a wonderful character study of two very complex individuals: Livingstone, the missionary bent on finding the source of the Nile; and Stanley, a journalist plagued by failure and desperate to make something of his life. Why didn’t this book generate mammoth sales? It has drama, human conflict, adventure, a touch of mystery—but not much sex.

An author I’ve mentioned on this blog before is James Crumley, whose violent, drug-fueled detective novels rank amongst the best crime fiction I’ve read. He has been cited as a major influence by such bestselling authors as Michael Connelly and Dennis Lehane, yet he never found a large audience. Crumley, who died in 2008, voiced his thoughts on the matter in a 2001 interview with the Dallas Morning News:

I’m not middlebrow and middle class. Sure, I’d like it if more people read the books. My children would like it. My ex-wives would like it. But that’s just not what I’m about.

The opening line to Crumley’s The Last Good Kiss is considered by many to be one of the finest of the genre:

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.

The whole book, mind you, is phenomenal.

Otto Penzler, founder of the Mysterious Press and owner of the Mysterious Bookshop in New York City, could never account for Crumley’s lack of mainstream success. “He just never found a mass audience,” he told the the Los Angeles Times in 2008, “and I wish I could tell you why. I don’t know.”

As the author of six non-bestselling books (well, one did appear in a brief flash on the Barnes and Noble paperback bestseller list about six years ago) and my next book due out in October, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever beat the odds. If great authors like Crumley go their entire career hidden in the literary shadows, what chance do other scribes have?

All writers, of course, are prone to such feelings every now and then. The trick is not to dwell on them too long. If we knew why some books meet with great success, while others go out in a blaze of obscurity, we’d all be writing massive bestsellers.

Who knows? Maybe in the end, it is all about sex.

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Thanks for the blogging awards . . .

In Uncategorized on March 28, 2012 at 11:41 am

In recent days, blogger Colline has been kind enough to bestow upon me the Very Inspiring Blogger Award, while H. Conrad Miller and Rola Yousef have both sent the Versatile Blogger Award my way. From Kourtney Heintz, I received the Liebster Blog Award. Thank you, comrades in scribbling, for this recognition—and, more importantly, for your readership. These awards come with certain requirements, so I’ll combine them here. First, seven random things about myself:

1. I have slight OCD and have to check I’ve locked the door four times when I leave the house (insert snickering here . . .).

2. If given the choice, I prefer Beefeater’s gin over Tanqueray.

3. I often feel I was born a couple of generations too late. I wish I could have experienced London and Paris in the twenties and thirties. I would have worn a fedora and smoked cigarettes. San Francisco in the sixties would have been pretty cool, too.

4. I’ve yet to write the book I was “meant” to write—whatever that is.

5. If I ever scored a major bestseller and had the financial means to do so, I would take my family on a week’s vacation to Goldeneye, Ian Fleming’s Jamaican retreat where he penned the James Bond novels. It’s now a high-end resort.

6. In an attempt to be healthier, I’ve stopped drinking on weeknights. I now only enjoy alcohol on Friday and Saturday nights.

7. I hope my next book, Human Game: The True Story of the ‘Great Escape’ Murders and the Hunt for the Gestapo Gunmen, due out in October, sells well!

Now, I’ll list some blogs that I enjoy visiting (these, obviously, are in addition to the four folks mentioned above):

1. Fellow scribe Marc Schuster has a dry wit that I always find entertaining. Be sure to check out his book The Grievers, due out in May.

2. Kate, the 4 a.m. Writer, publishes great posts on pursuing “The Dream.”

3. Julie at Word Flows shares with readers her creative process. It’s always interesting to see how other writers work.

4. The poems and paintings of D.F. Barker are beautiful.

5. I also enjoy the artwork of Moyra Blayney.

6. Sally Panayiotou shares her struggles with the “work in progress.”

7. The Literary Man . . . the title speaks for itself!

8. Becoming Madame is a wonderful blog about living in Paris. If you can’t visit the city, this is the next best thing.

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‘Human Game’ book trailer (well, sort of . . .)

In Uncategorized on March 26, 2012 at 9:50 am

As stated in previous posts, Penguin will release my next book, Human Game: The True Story of the ‘Great Escape’ Murders and the Hunt for the Gestapo Gunmen, on October 2. While the release date is still some distance down the road, it’s never too early for shameless self-promotion!

The book picks up where the 1963 Steve McQueen classic “The Great Escape” leaves off. A couple of years ago, Australian television aired an hour-long documentary titled ‘The Great Escape: The Reckoning,” which deals with the same subject matter as Human Game. The documentary presents a very general—but good—overview of the Allied manhunt for the Gestapo gunmen who murdered 50 of the 76 “Great Escapees,” while Human Game examines the killings and resulting investigation in great depth.

The trailer for “The Great Escape: The Reckoning” is quite atmospheric—so I thought I’d post it here and adopt it this one time as a book trailer (hope the producers don’t mind!). Enjoy . . .


I highly recommend watching “The Great Escape” if you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing it. The opening theme, composed by Elmer Bernstein, is–I think–the greatest piece of music to come out of Hollywood. I dare you to listen and say it’s not catchy!

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Twitter sucks

In Random thoughts, Uncategorized on March 25, 2012 at 8:31 am

Continuing the effort to build my online presence, I recently fired up a Twitter account. I have so far had some decent success in connecting with people via this blog, so I considered Twitter the next logical step. Having now been “tweeting” for three or four weeks, I’m starting to wonder why I bother. My short foray into the Twitterverse (a word I just made-up) has landed me a mere 12 followers. From what I can tell via my WordPress stats, not one person has accessed my blog through Twitter. To be fair, I’ve hardly clicked on the links other Twitter users (Tweeters?) have posted. This got me thinking: Is anyone on Twitter actually paying attention to the endless stream of virtual chatter?

Being on Twitter is like being stuck in a room with someone who doesn’t stop talking. It’s an endless tirade of meaningless blather. I was following one writer but eventually dropped him, as he seemed to tweet every 30 seconds. It was constant. Whenever I logged on, his were the only tweets I saw. He drowned out everyone else. If you’re going to tweet (I’m really growing to hate that word), then please post stuff that’s stimulating in some way. I don’t care enough about the mundane minutiae of my own daily routines to bore other people with them, so why do I care that someone I’ve never met is “Pretty raved out”?

I suppose I’m missing the point of Twitter—but now that I’ve dabbled in it (I have since cancelled my account), I can honestly say I don’t understand its appeal. Is it actually possible to convey anything meaningful in 140 characters or less? The tweets that really annoy me are things like, “You can make your dreams come true if you believe” and “You are the engine of your own destiny”, and other feel-good affirmations that have zero substance to them. Thank you, but I feel pretty good about myself already. Also, don’t bother telling the rest of us that you’ve just gotten up or are going to bed or heading to the gym or heading home from the gym or deciding what you’re going to have for dinner. We don’t care.

Facebook I understand. It allows people to reconnect and keep in touch with friends and family. That said, I’m suffering a severe case of Facebook burnout. What is this need we have to constantly be updating people about everything we’re doing? Since when did all our lives become so interesting? Do we need to know that a friend or acquaintance—at this very moment—is eating at the International House of Pancakes?

Don’t mistake this for the misanthropic rant of a perpetual grump. As opposed to Facebook and Twitter, I love WordPress because it allows people to share unique opinions, ideas, and experiences in a way no status update or a 140-character phrase can. It requires a level of effort and creative thinking.

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The agony of book signings

In Uncategorized on March 21, 2012 at 9:26 am

I posted this on my blog last year but felt compelled to share it again. As someone who has endured the agony of a poorly attended book signing (okay, several poorly attended book signings), this video really struck a chord. There’s nothing more humbling than showing up for an event and finding only two of twenty or thirty seats occupied. It’s actually worse than no one showing up. If zero people attend, you can cut your losses and head home. If one or two folks show up, you have to entertain them with a reading. This is embarrassing for everyone involved. The author is embarrassed by the fact only two people made an appearance, and the two attendees are embarrassed that they’re the only ones there.

Mystery writer Parnell Hall vents his frustration in this mighty fine song . . .

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Why fear the blank page?

In Uncategorized, Writing on March 20, 2012 at 8:49 am

While recently perusing blogs maintained by other scribes, I came across one in which the writer detailed his fear of the blank page (or, should it be screen?). He waxed poetic about the “emptiness” of the page, of how it taunts him and seemingly “dares” him to put that first word down. There is, he wrote, “something infinite” about the whole thing. A number of readers left comments, stating similar thoughts. I don’t get it. While I agree that starting a writing project can be a daunting undertaking, I’ve never lived in fear of a page—blank or otherwise. To me, it’s like a motorcyclist saying he’s scared of the open road. If you’re a writer, why fear a tool of the trade?

Yes, I believe writing is a craft and a special skill not everyone possesses, but I’ve never been one to over-analyze the process. Words take shape in my head, and I put them on paper. This is not an effort to simplify writing or make light of the hard work authors put into their stories, it’s simply how I view things. Yes, I fuss over what I’m doing and fret over sentences, but I never dread a blank page.

If you have a story to tell and are anxious to purge it from your system, the page is there to help you. I don’t feel it taunting me or daring me to do anything. It’s simply a blank palette you bring to life. So, get your hands on that keyboard—or grab that pen—and get some words down! As I’ve stated in previous posts, who cares if what you write is terrible? You can clean it up later.

Before I commence any new book project, I always make sure I know how the story starts. Not until I have an opening figured out in my head do I sit down to write. By the time I situate myself at the keyboard, I’m desperate to type—hence, the page never stays blank for long. If you consider the blank page as this massive obstacle you have to overcome, you’re setting yourself up for difficulties before you even start. Think of the page, instead, as the outlet that will let you tell your story. A friend of mine, who happens to fear the page, dictates his opening passages into a tape recorder and then transcribes them. This guarantees he has something to write when he fires up his computer.

I guess, in short, I’m trying to say that if you know what you’re going to write, there’s no point being scared of a blank computer screen or a fresh page in your journal. What I worry about is whether the story I’m telling is any good. The greatest fear for me when writing is losing interest in the subject matter. That’s something you can’t overcome and is ultimately the kiss of death.

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Life is too short to stick with boring books

In books, writers on March 16, 2012 at 9:08 am

It recently dawned on me I’ll die before I get to every book on my reading list. These days, what with the day job, new daddy duties, and writing my own books, I don’t have as much reading time as I once did. Indeed, I find I hardly have the mental stamina in the evenings to get through five pages. I’ll read several paragraphs and realize none of what I’ve read has actually sunk in. All the while, the number of books on my bedside table continues to grow. If you were to take a look, you would find:

The Lost City of Z (David Grann)
Have Mercy On Us All (Fred Vargas)
Seeking Whom He May Devour (also by Vargas)
A Bridge Too Far (Cornelius Ryan)
Inferno (Max Hastings)
The Woman Lit by Fireflies (Jim Harrison)
The Farmer’s Daughter (also by Harrison)
Churchill: A Life (Martin Gilbert)
The Blue Nile (Alex Moorehead)
The Desert War (also by Moorehead)
Carte Blanche (Jeffery Deaver)

I should say not all of these are actually on my bedside table out of fear the stack might collapse and kill me while I sleep. They’re scattered throughout the house. Some people have closets filled with shoes; I’ve got shelves overflowing with books—and still I continue to purchase more, even though there are plenty I have yet to read. Is this a sickness? An addiction? I know I’m not alone. I also know it drives my wife bananas. “Why,” she asks, peering at me over a stack of hardcovers, “must you buy so many books?”

I simply love books . . . they bring me comfort. I love being surrounded by them. In my home office, I have three bookshelves stuffed to capacity with biographies, histories, and thrillers, including a couple of autographed books by Stephen King and William Peter Blatty. On one shelf, I have multiple editions of Ian Fleming’s original Bond novels, including six British first editions published by Jonathan Cape. They’re cherished possessions.

I’ve read ninety percent of the books I own—but that remaining ten percent nags at me. It’s because of this I no longer waste my time struggling to finish books I find boring. In a recent blog post, The Literary Man asked when is it okay to give up on a book. My answer is as soon as you realize you’re bored. Life is too short to stick with disappointing reads. If you’re served a crummy meal in a restaurant, you don’t continue eating it. You ask the waiter to bring you something else.

With all the books I still have to conquer—and the list continues to grow—I place high expectations on my hardcover and paperback entertainment. If I’m not hooked in the first 100 pages, chances are I’m ditching it. Our time here is limited, and I’ve got a lot of books to read.

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Evil Siblings: Procrastination and Writer’s Block

In Writing on March 13, 2012 at 7:50 am

In her excellent book The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer’s Block, and the Creative Brain, neurologist Alice Flaherty tackles, among other things, the difference between writer’s block and procrastination. “A blocked writer has the discipline to stay at the desk but cannot write,” she writes. “A procrastinator, on the other hand, cannot bring himself to sit down at the desk; yet if something forces him to sit down he may write quite fluently.”

While I agree with Flaherty’s point of view, I think writer’s block can lead to procrastination. One may become so frustrated with their inability to get the words down, they create excuses not to sit in front of the keyboard.

As my wife will attest, I procrastinate in all things—though I am pretty self-disciplined where writing is concerned. It’s easy for me to come up with a million things I’d rather be doing than banging out a manuscript—but would any of them fill me with the self-satisfaction I experience after a good day’s writing? No. It’s like mustering the will to go to the gym. We all dread getting in the car and driving to our rendezvous with the treadmill, but we feel better in the end for doing it. When I’m working on a book, I always take stock of my accomplishments at day’s end. Did I get any writing done, or did I waste time surfing the web? If you’re a “writer” who always comes up with reasons not to write, you become that person who spends countless hours talking about writing but never actually doing any. I don’t want to be that individual.

I have been fortunate when it comes to writer’s block. Although I go through occasional spells, it’s never been a chronic problem. In The Midnight Disease, Flaherty excerpts a letter Joseph Conrad wrote to a friend regarding this particular torment:

I sit down religiously every morning, I sit down for eight hours every day—and the sitting down is all. In the course of that working day of eight hours, I write three sentences which I erase before leaving the table in despair. Sometimes it takes all my resolution and power of self-control to refrain from butting my head against the wall. I want to howl and foam at the mouth but I daren’t do it for fear of waking the baby and alarming my wife. After such crises of despair, I doze for hours, still held conscious that there is that story that I am unable to write. Then I wake up, try again, and at last go to bed completely done up. At night I sleep. In the morning I get up with that horror of the powerlessness I must face through a day of vain efforts . . .

The irony of Conrad’s letter, of course, is he can write about writer’s block—he just can’t write the story that’s percolating inside his brain. I’m happy to say I have never reached such a level of despair. When writing, I don’t force words on the page. I simply go with the flow if they’re in my head and try not to worry too much about the initial quality. I know I’ll be editing the hell out of them later. The main thing is to get the story down. If the mental well is dry, however, I don’t press the issue. I won’t sit staring at a blinking cursor, as that will only make things worse. The best remedy, at least for me, is to walk away from the keyboard and focus my attention elsewhere, be it a book, movie, or some music, and let my subconscious tackle the problem. I’m not sure why, but the shower is where a lot of my ideas reveal themselves. If I’ve been struggling to find the right wording for something, it’ll usually hit me in the morning as I’m rinsing the shampoo from my hair.

Of course, washing one’s hair is not a practical solution for everybody. Looking for advice that might help others, I found this 2010 article from Psychology Today that offers “Ten Top Tips to End Writer’s Block Procrastination.” Hopefully, someone out there will benefit from them!

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A few words from Stephen King

In author, writers, Writing on March 10, 2012 at 6:39 am

While cruising around Youtube last night, I stumbled across a 2009 BBC interview with Stephen King (I’ve posted the video clip below). The interview is split into several parts, during which King discusses his career and thoughts on writing. Most interesting are his views on teaching creative writing. Basically, he says creative writing classes exist so writers who can’t make a living writing can make a living teaching. He goes onto say creative writing can’t be taught. The best advice you can give an aspiring writer, he says, is to read and write a lot. Experiencing a bit of life doesn’t hurt, either.

While I’m not a snob when it comes to writing, I believe you either have the ability to write or you don’t. Just as you can’t teach someone to use paint and brush to become a good painter, you can’t teach someone to become a good writer. Also, how do you teach something for which there are no strict rules? Every writer approaches their work differently. Some writers use outlines, others prefer to let the story develop as they go along. How do you teach someone to bring their own “voice” to a page? If you already have the ability to write, perhaps a creative writing class can teach you to hone your skills—but it can hardly create skills that aren’t even there to begin with.

King goes onto say that writers who teach, or give themselves “too much air and light,” tend to produce work that is lifeless. This, I don’t agree with. I don’t know one writer who can support themselves solely on their writing. With the exception of the world’s Stephen Kings, most authors endure the daily grind of a job that pays the bills—whether it be in a classroom or cubicle. King’s record obviously speaks for itself—and he’s produced some of my favorite books—but what other alternative do the majority of authors have? One could argue that having a day job keep’s an author rooted in reality. There’s something to be said for mingling with other people on a daily basis and not spending it locked away in a room in front of a keyboard.

He also has an interesting stance on writing conferences, which he says offer creative people a chance to find someone to sleep with. Apparently, creative types are so abnormal, they have a hard time establishing relationships with others. This may be true for some . . . but I like to think I’m one of the normal ones!

Check out more of what he has to say. It’s a great interview . . .

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Presenting . . . the cover to ‘Human Game’

In books, publishing on March 6, 2012 at 7:31 am

Last week, Penguin sent me the mock-up of the cover to Human Game: The True Story of the ‘Great Escape’ Murders and the Hunt for the Gestapo Gunmen. I’m pleased with the end result and find the red color theme to be pretty striking. The faded swastika behind the main title adds a menacing touch to the overall presentation without being distracting. I hope it lures readers! The book hits stores in the US October 2, with a UK release date scheduled for early next year.

Human Game is the non-fiction sequel to the famous World War II story of The Great Escape, the book by Paul Brickhill that became the classic 1963 movie starring Steve McQueen and Richard Attenborough. The book and film (a personal favorite) detail the mass breakout of 76 Allied airmen from Stalag Luft III, a prison camp deep in the heart of Nazi Germany. What made the breakout famous was not merely the number of men involved, but the operation’s overall logistics. All escapees were supplied with German money, fake travel documents and identity papers, homemade compasses, maps, and rations. Outfits, ranging from business suits to German military uniforms, were tailored for every escapee. The men spent more than a year digging three escape tunnels. As I write in Human Game, this endeavor alone required . . .

“. . . the requisitioning of 1,219 knifes, 582 forks, 408 spoons, 246 water cans, 1,699 blankets, 192 bed covers, 161 pillow cases, 1,212 pillows, 655 straw mattresses, 34 chairs, the frames of 90 bunk beds, 3,424 towels, 10 single tables, 52 twenty-man tables, more than 1,200 bed bolsters, nearly 1,400 beaded battens, 76 benches, 1,000 feet of electrical wiring and 600 feet of rope. Four thousand bed boards were used to shore-up the tunnels. Lights wired into the camp’s electrical supply provided illumination underground; air pumps made of discarded kitbags, empty powdered-milk tins, wood-framing, wire mesh and tar paper supplied fresh air to those doing the digging.”

What the men accomplished was nothing short of amazing.

Of the 76 “Great Escapers,” only three made it back to England. Twenty-three were returned to various prison camps. The remaining 50 were rounded up by the Gestapo and executed. The movie ends with the condemned being shot en masse in a field by a German machine gunner. In reality, the men were taken in groups of twos and threes to isolated killing fields throughout the Reich and shot in the beck of the neck. The bodies were destroyed at local concentration camps and crematoriums. The movie always left me wondering who, exactly, was responsible for killing the escapees and what, if anything, became of them? In 2007, I decided to find out. Human Game is the result of three years of researching and writing.

In England, where I’m originally from, “The Great Escape” comes on every Christmas day—a strange, but enjoyable, tradition. I first watched it with my grandfather when I was a child, and it left an indelible impression. Second only to my grandfather’s wartime service in the Royal Air Force, “The Great Escape” launched my lifelong interest in the Second World War. Tales of ordinary people rising to meet extraordinary challenges have always fascinated me—and the investigation into the “Great Escape” murders is such a story.

Tasked with tracking down the Gestapo gunmen was a small team from the RAF’s Special Investigating Branch. The men, detectives in their civilian lives, arrived in Germany in September 1945—seventeen months after the killings—to pick up a trail long gone cold. The team would traverse a Germany divided amongst the American, British, French, and Russian occupiers, all of whom had their own agendas. Through sheer determination and crack investigative skills, the team brought 21 killers to justice in a hunt that spanned three years and pierced the darkest realms of Nazi fanaticism.

I hope readers, upon the book’s release, find the story as enthralling as I do!

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