Confessions of a Starving Mystery Writer

Fingers grip my heart In a grasp that threatens, calls, then beckons Tearing, ripping, Creeping, seeping No release the probing tendrils Can’t appease its lust, its thirst Until cast down, until worse Lying, face down in the dirt I gasp, it finally leaves me Its control over me complete.

Ok, after the public flogging I received for my recent wank-fic post, I have attempted this morning to redeem myself. I am exploring and experimenting so please be patient. The following is the beginning of a short story or scene for my novel. I hope you like it. Let me know. At 2 a.m., Harry opened the front door to his apartment in the suburbs of Detroit and was surprised to see his - soon to be ex-wife - tears and mascara lines steaming down her face. Her tears dripped onto her pink silk blouse leaving dark blotched circles. Her blonde hair was tussled as if she had been recently awoken. “What’s wrong Patty?” “I – I, it’s Cindy, Gary just called, she’s been k…k…killed … in a ….ca…ca…car accident.” She said in rapid staccato sobs. She plunged into Harry’s arms and he enveloped her. They held each other tightly. “I’m sorry, Patty, I heard it on the police radio.” He said as he patted her head and kissed her cheek. “She was my best friend.” “I know.” He cupped her face in his hands and...

The first full week of 2006 has come to a close. For the one or two people that may give a rat's ass and for personal posterity sake, the following is my professional writing career inventory: Short stories. 4 complete. 3 in various stages of completion. 10 story ideas germinating. The completed ones will be polished and submitted to magazines by the end of next week. 3 fiction. 1 non-fiction. Novel. 50 pages complete, but gestation period is reaching fever pitch. Play. Acts I and part of Act II written, research is ongoing. Screenplay . A zygote of idea is working its way to the page. Non-Fiction Small Business book . Co-writing. First two chapters are close to draft completion. Critique Group . Joined Mystery Writer's Critique Group. Book Club . I am going to join a Mystery Book Club Songs . Working on two original songs. Webpage . In development. Blog . Working on better content and building readership. Bookstores . I am researching big box and independent bookstores to u...

Free Range Chickens at the Hat Last Night 

E.L. Doctorow was on the Charlie Rose Show the other night and he said Poe was America's best - bad writer. I have to admit, I've never read Mr. Doctorow, but if he could write what follows, I would. Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep–while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? Dream Within a Dream, Edgar Allen Poe Read it, live it, know it....Mr. Doctorow.

Ok, I admire author Joe Konrath , but I have to question his drunkard-ness because of the lame drink recipes he picks for his books. His website and blog kick mortal ass but the drinks, well... For those of you who don't know him, he signed a 3 and then a 6 book deal with Hyperion and has created a semi-hardboiled series around a Chicago woman detective named Jacqueline Daniels aka Jack Daniels. The gimmic is each book's name is a drink, his first being Bloody Mary. A recipe starts every book. Ok, he is a great writer and the P.T. Barnum of authorship, but his drink recipes suck. They are swill that no respectable drunk would consume. So, in the interest of non-sobriety, here is my Bloody Mary recipe: Spicy V8 Dash of Worcestershire Sauce Dash of dill pickle juice A few shakes of pepper A dab of horseradish sauce Habanero Tabasco Sauce (As much as you can stand) Stoli's Vodka(The hot pepper one - as much as required) Garnish with 3 olives and a spicey asparagas spear (and...

Ok, Hardboiled is an aquired taste. Here a scene, in the hardboiled vien, without the graphic violence. I wrote this yesterday. It's a scene that I will fit into a short story or the novel. I am actually using the short story to develope my novel characters. Detective Harry Beam, is a Detroit homicide detective that is a minor character in my novel. What do you think? The Deposit “Let me get this straight, you want me to take this cup back into the procedure room, jerk off in it, and bring it back to you?” Harry asked, as he held a plastic cup, about the size of a shot glass, up in front of the nurse’s face. “Yes, that’s correct.” The nurse raised her eyebrows and said, “You and your wife have been trying to have a child for two years. She’s checked out fine. Now it’s your turn.” “Uh, you know I’m a police officer?” He said as he could feel his face get hot and flush. “Yes, Mr. Beam, I know you are, but does that mean you don’t masturbate?” This she said with a smile. She seemed to...

It was Elvis' birthday yesterday when I got to the local pub. It's difficult to say but I may have made of an ass of myself, I'm sure I'll hear about it.... The hangover cure, from the Homebrewer's Bible: Shower - hot as you can stand it B complex vitamins 2 Water - as much as you can drink Excedrin 2 (120 mg caffine does wonders) it aint workin' so I'm guessin' hair of the dog is next on the agenda...

I'm doing the pub crawl tonight. I hope not to end up in what Modern Drunkard Magazine calls the " Six Circles of Hangover Hell ." And yes, Virginia, there really is a Modern Drunkard Magazine ... I think its British.

Ok, I have been writing. Here is the beginning of a short story I started today: The Stop Harry got out of the Wayne County supplied black Chevrolet Impala; he tried to shake off the car’s putrid smell of ass sweat, vomit, and fast food but it wouldn’t go away – it had permeated his clothes. As he surveyed the scene, it looked like a hundred police-car pileup - headlights blaring, bubble gums rotating. It wasn’t, of course, it was responders to an officer-down distress call. The cars were all surrounding, in a half circle, a squad car parked behind a late model Black Porsche 911, both engines still running. Both squad car doors were opened with two officers laying face down, blood pools around their heads. Harry approached the Precinct Captain, who was standing a few feet away from the crime scene. “What have we got?” Harry asked as he placed an unlit cigarette between his lips. “Take a look . . . but don’t move anything. The crime scene techs haven’t taken pictures yet. This is some s...

Or Wankette hits the NYT. Blogger turned author, Ana Marie Cox, has a good week as reported in Slushpile : Let’s recap… Monday: Quits her day job Tuesday: Gets reviewed in the New York Times Wednesday: Signs a mid-six-figure book deal( $275,000 advance ) Thursday: Gets profiled in the New York Times Who would ever think that sex in Washington would sell....

Is this the future of books? Unvieled at a recent Vegas geek show, Sony's new e-Reader will cost between $300 to $400. With battery life estimated to be about 7,500 page turns. An MIT professor is working on an eReader/Laptop project whose targeted retail price is $100. The promised technological convergence continues.

I borrowed the pic from John Rickard's Blog . I'm speechless..... and I think I might hurl.

Two of my buddies leave tommorow for New Orleans to volunteer for the reconstruction. Wild Bill, aka "Bill The Dog" and Capt. Dave aka "Tolerence" will embark on the journey of a lifetime tommorow - I'll be with you in spirit. I could say don't do anything I wouldn't do, but as you all know there isn't much I wouldn't do. God I love Burboun Street. Remember to go to Lafitte's, if it wasn't washed away. Good luck, be safe, drive carefully, and as always .... just so no! Or no thank you, or maybe later, or . . . And in case of emergency - Break Glass or Not . Have fun.

Jim Haung is a Trifecta in the publishing industry; an Editor and Publisher of the Drood Mystery Review , a mystery review periodical, an owner of The Mystery Company , an independent mystery bookstore in Indiana, and Editor and Publisher of Crum Creek Press , a small independant publishing house. He reads, reviews, sells, buys, publishes and edits books. He lives the publishing industry and, in specific, the mystery genre. I met Jim briefly, several years ago in Kalamazoo, Michigan when he owned the now defunct, Deadly Passions Bookstore. Unfortantely, Deadly Passions did not survive to the see the revitalization that downtown Kalamazoo has experienced in recent years. I enjoyed his store, attentive staff, and the events staged there. In 2004 he was asked by the writer's conference, of Dark and Stormy Nights, to be the keynote speaker. He chose to speak honestly and openly about writing, the publishing industry, bookselling. From his unique prospective, he gives some enlightening ...

"Life's a piece of shit when you look at it." That's my favorite song from Monty Python's Life of Brian. It's sacrelegious. I know, but I like it. There's a certain irony, on many levels. So stands the mystery of life. The yin with the yang. The sorrow and the joy. The inevitability of loss ... and the shit. I mentioned a sex scene a week or so ago, so I decided to post it tonight. Can a writer bleed on a page through his pen? Bitter betrayal, half truths, untruths, lies, and damn lies - it's a broken record that plays over and over. Chck, chck, chck. Shakesperian isn't it. Here is the scene. I hope you like it. It cost me: "As I drive down the road to nowhere, a familiar song comes on the radio. I turn it up and begin to sing along. Suddenly, as if teleported back in time, I am in a place long ago, on a beach blanket with a beautiful woman. The rhythm of waves beat gently, to and fro, onto the sandy shore. Darkness envelopes us. I'm wit...

Mission Control 

Lee Goldberg has an interesting recent blogpost that raises certain prurient and voyueristic impulses. His post exposes the place where writers do thier magic. No, not the MTV Cribs, celebrity jumps on the bed and dry humps a pillow type magic -where they write. Pictured above is where I write. Mission Control - the Stratolounger (The Lazyboy for the younger crowd). As you can see, I remain, The Starving Mystery Writer. Please feel free to post yours - if you dare. Check out Lee's post. It is interesting.

American dead in Iraq was reported in a January 1, 2006 NY Times article as 2,178 killed and 15,995 wounded. Iraqi dead are estimated at 30,000. My heart goes out too the families and pray for the safe return of our service men and women. In America, about 16,000 people were murdered - 57 of which were policemen. America, it appears, is deadlier than Iraq.

I got bit by Copperhead last night. Not the snake - the beer. It still stings. Yikes. A green beer hangover. Anyway, after spending most of my adult life trying to get into women's pants, I am now going to attempt to get into one's head. Not that this is new for me - trying to figure out how a woman thinks - but trying to write from one's prospective. I am writing a short story where a woman is the hero. I don't think I truely understand women, so, I think it may be a difficult journey. They are an enigma to me. The adventure begins.... any advice?