Category Archives: Discussions

Off The Cuff Part 12 : Literary Conversation with Dietrich Kalteis, Sam Wiebe & Samantha J Wright

26 Friday Dec 2014

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Dietrich Kalteis and I are joined by Samantha J Wright, (author of The Ison Delusion and The Sands of Carsaig) and Vancouver’s own Sam Wiebe, author of Last of the Independents. Thank you both very much for joining in.

 

And we also have another great shot from Peter Rozovsky’s noir vault.  

MF: I suppose the difference between being ready to write a short story and being ready to write a novel is a matter of one’s thirst and preparation for the journey ahead, a bit like a day trip compared to a road trip spanning a week or more. I feel I am ready to write a novel when I have prepared myself for it. I’ve written some short stories and then felt the need to go on a longer journey that’s more immersive. It can be daunting, but it does give a writer the space to expand his/her craft. I could go on, but I’d like to hear some initial thoughts from you all.

DK: When I started writing, I wrote a lot of short stories, and I can’t say it’s easier than writing a novel, just different. The nice thing with writing the shorter form, if you don’t like what you’ve written, it’s not such an investment in time and not the end of the world if you walk away from it. For me, it allowed me to play around with different genres, find out what I was comfortable writing. And it was nice to submit a short piece for publication while I just kept on writing the next one. And what a thrill when they get accepted. Nothing like gaining a little confidence along the way.
Eventually as I kept writing I gained confidence and also developed a voice. And that only evolved after many written pages. Once I felt I had that voice, I tried my had at writing a novel. 

Almost as important as writing as much as you can, I think it’s important to read as much as you can. Delve into the genre you want to write, study and learn from the greats and find out what works for you as a writer.

SJW: When do you know if you’re ready to write a novel? Hm … well, I think that question implies a certain amount of constraint, yet it is one that many people ask. Over the years I have learned that writers (myself included) are very good at putting restrictions, erecting lofty standards and making harsh demands of themselves when it comes to their work. Like many, I have at times become my own worst enemy by developing this mindset. Such thinking can stifle creativity and slow us down. There is no room for spontaneity or asking those what ifs. It’s all shoulds and oughts, can I and will I? Whereas the unfettered creative mind says, ‘I will. I want to. I can. I need to.’ I enjoy art also, but I do not and never have asked myself ‘am I ready to paint this picture?’ I just do it. My best work in both writing and art comes when I am relaxed and uninhibited by mental clutter and questions like, am I ready?

My first novel was not plotted or planned. I just went with an idea that came to me and wrote and wrote sequestered in my room to the point where the world just fell away. This was not with any intention of publishing you understand, but for my own pleasure. And that gave me the freedom to use broad brush strokes and let the stories and characters be who they were meant to be. You know the saying dance like no one is watching? That’s the way we should be when we write. Hard to do when you want to get noticed, but the benefits are huge. In a nutshell it’s all about passion and desire. You start over-thinking it, all you will be left with is an empty commitment that you don’t really have any strong urge to fulfill. Keep it simple, and just go with the flow. You can edit later to craft it into something publishable.

SW: For me, stories fall into two categories: ideas that emerge fully-formed, and more experimental works where I’m attempting something I’m not sure I can pull off. Elmore Leonard mentioned he wasn’t comfortable writing a female protagonist, so he wrote a short story, Karen Makes Out, as a sort of test drive before writing Out of Sight.

The cool part about short stories is that you get exposed to all aspects of the process, including submission and rejection, at a faster rate than novels. So when you encounter those same problems with a novel, they differ in degree rather than kind from what you’ve already faced.

MF: I remember when we talked earlier in the year when you (Dietrich) mentioned how you like to write without detailed step by step planning: it was the difference between wearing a tee shirt and wearing a tie. I’ve been thinking about that lately. Whilst writing my latest novel, I felt as though I was working in a tiny airless cubby hole, a feeling I’ve rarely felt when writing. I found myself continually glancing at my notes and it becoming tiresome. Now I’ve decided to change tack. 

Looking back, I think the effort I spent on creating detailed notes was a diversion, a delaying tactic. It felt like I was doing good preparation, but the time could have been better spent actually writing the novel itself. Then I felt a little constrained by the plot-details that I carefully constructed some months before. But now without all that, I feel liberated and the words are flowing. So what compels me to write the novel? it’s when I have an idea that grabs my imagination, and I can’t wait to write it, or should I say, excavate it, as a small part of me likes to believe that all stories are real somewhere out there. Crazy I know! My day job requires me to plan things in detail weeks and even months ahead, and I think this mind-set has crept into my creativity. While it works for some, and even worked for me in the past, it’s no longer working for me. It’s funny how our MO can change over the years, isn’t it?

SW: A novel is a bigger gamble. Jazz musicians learn a tune by heart and then improvise over the chord changes, and that’s pretty much my approach to novel writing. I figure out the eight or ten or twelve story ‘beats’ and a logical way to get between them. It ends up at about a page. Then I throw that in a drawer and write the first draft without looking at it. That way I don’t really flail looking for the story, but at the same time I’m not locked into an unforgiving outline. If I want to linger on a certain idea, or introduce a new character, that method allows for those digressions.

MF: Interesting analogies and points Mr. Wiebe, and they’ve got me thinking … When you refer to beats, would you be talking about the outline/structure of beats as described in this website for example? http://www.gailgaymermartin.com/2013/12/writing-novel-seven-story-beats
 If so, that’s very useful advice as it provides structure without rigidity, but when we think about all the great novels we’ve read, do they all adhere to this structure? With practice, I am sure a writer could reach the stage that he/she wouldn’t need to consciously think about the beats/structure as it would come naturally in much the same way a pianist doesn’t think ‘the next key is C, the one after that is E etc, but rather, comes naturally in the rhythm.
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Off the Cuff : Part 6 with Dietrich Kalteis and Martin J Frankson

08 Monday Sep 2014

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20140811-103457-38097646.jpg

We’re back with week six of our freestyle chat – no rules, no editing, and no net under us. Vancouver-based crime writer and author of Ride the Lightning, Dietrich Kalteis and I discuss what we’re working on, writing in general and just whatever comes to mind – real off the cuff.

A special thanks to Peter Rozovsky for use of his noir shot: At Maryland’s Eastern Shore. You can find out more about Peter’s work on Facebook, his Twitter account @DBeyondBorders and his sublime blog http://detectivesbeyondborders.blogspot.co.uk
 
So here we go.

 

OTC IMAGE 6

 

MF: I’d like to touch on how important settings are this week since it seems so closely connected to character, which we talked about over the past two weeks. I’ll start off by saying LA, NYC and London have been very well served in the canon. Writers these days need to look at different locales/settings which have specific cultural aspects that perhaps are not widely known in broader culture. This is why, to me, crime novels set in British Columbia by writers such as yourself, Robin Spano, Linda E Richards and ER Brown fascinated and entertained me. Owen Laukkenan’s books that feature the character Carla Windermere (a black female FBI agent) are set in Minnesota. Now, there’s a double whammy of originality, a black female protagonist and Minnesota.
 
DK: I like reading stories set in my hometown. It’s interesting to hear other writers describe settings which are familiar, and Robin, Linda and ER all do it very well. And I recently finished Owen’s Kill Fee and double whammy is right, a great job with both character and setting. 
 
For me, Vancouver creates an interesting backdrop, partially because it hasn’t been overused. It’s also a busy seaport and tucked up against the US border, just begging for some crime fiction. Using where you live as a story’s setting makes it both easier for the writer and more convincing to the reader. When I wrote Ride the Lightning I also chose Vancouver because of the unusually high number of grow-ops here which served the story. 
 
And I see your point about settings that we’ve read over and over, but to me when a story is well written the setting could be anywhere. Take James Ellroy and his LA Quartet (The Black Dahlia, The Big Nowhere, LA Confidential, White Jazz) must-read crime fiction. Or Ed McBain and his 87th Precinct stories set in New York. Carl Hiaasen and Florida, James Lee Burke’s Louisiana, George Pelecanos’ Washington.  
 
Having said that, there is a certain intrigue to stories that take place in a foreign locale that I’ve never been to. Take a classic like Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile. Or even an imaginary setting like the town of Wallace in ER Brown’s Almost Criminal. In the end, I think it all boils down to the strength of the writing – whether the setting’s exotic, familiar or imaginary.
 
Striving for the original is always important, but sometimes your characters want to show up at overused locales like bars or cafes if they’re the kind that frequent such places, regardless of whether the setting is a bit cliché or not; that’s where they hang out. But I do agree with you, as a writer, it’s important to strive for originality in settings.
 
MF: Very true. We’ve all read bar scenes, but like a game of chess, there are an infinite number of possibilities of character, plot, dialogue and story that can take place in that setting, and this is where originality comes in; but if a writer feels he/she can make the setting work in a completely new land or one that’s unfamiliar within the genre, then go for it. Alexander McCall Smith, the Scottish crime writer has won much deserved success for his books set in Botswana. Brian McGilloway, the wonderful Irish crime writer from Derry, sets his work in the northern Irish borderlands between Derry and Donegal, again, a setting that is such a rich vein to mine, and one that has seldom been used in the past. The English crime writer, David Mark sets his work in the northern English city of Hull. No one has set crime literature there before, and why not? He does it very well, and people love his work. Hull may not be the most fashionable of places, but it certainly has its secrets and textural intrigues, and David evokes the atmosphere and nature of Hull supremely well.
 
DK: Elmore Leonard based many of his crime novels in and around Detroit, and he had every aspect of it down: the people, the settings, the dialects. One of his last was Djibouti, a city in the horn of Africa, and he pulled it off beautifully. A great example of dropping characters in settings that are unfamiliar to them, making them vulnerable by being out of their element. Ken Kesey’s Sailor Song, set in a fishing village in Kuinak, Alaska, is another fine example. Also, Hunter S Thompson’s The Rum Diary, taking place in Peurto Rico.
 
MF: You’ve just expanded my to-read list Dieter. Another example from my recent reading is Snow Candy by Terry Carroll, set in rural southern Ontario. People sometimes make the mistake of assuming that a small town or rural setting is more tranquil and peaceful than a city. That may be at first glance, but an awful lot of unsavoury things go on and are hidden in the countryside. People live there too, and where there are people, there’s intrigue just like anywhere else on the planet. It’s just not as obvious as it would be in a city. Books set in such locales are the more interesting for it. Confuse the bucolic with the moral at your peril.
 
Anya Lipska from London is another great example. Yes, her work is set in the familiar city of London, but its set amongst the Polish immigrant community. No one’s done that before, and even though the landscape of the setting may be familiar to many, the cultural landscape of her characters is not, and therein lies the originality that is such a wonderful hook and makes for a great read. Her novel Death Can’t Take a Joke (great title) involves investigations that take the story to Poland itself. Again, not just original but probably unique in English-language crime literature.
 
Ken Bruen, one of my favourite crime writers, lives in the west of Ireland where he sets his work. Granted, his main character, Jack Taylor is a middle-aged alcoholic male, but his humour and kitchen-sink everydayness is entwined so realistically within the crimes he investigates, and it works so well. Bruen shows how he lives and interacts with the modern world around him as opposed to holing him up in a dingy office where the real world of single mothers, curmudgeon neighbours and convenience store eccentricities don’t exist. Again, there’s an example of the familiar genre character being depicted in a fresh way and updated for our times.
 
This is why Scandinavian, Italian and German crime literature has been so successful in recent years; readers are crying out for fresh perspective and an insight into places and characters whose outlook, mannerisms and ethos are unfamiliar and fresh. However, it’s important for the writer to ignore the current fads and fashions of here today, gone tomorrow popularity and set their work wherever they feel it’s best.
 
more next week …

Off the Cuff : Part 3

31 Sunday Aug 2014

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Off the cuff 3

This week, Dietrich Kalteis and I have added a touch of class to our weekly Off The Cuff free-style discussion. Writer, blogger and editor at Detectives without Borders, Peter Rozovsky, has been kind enough to allow us the use of his noirish photos, just to dress the page up a bit. Thank you, Peter. You’ve not only got a way with words, you’ve also got an eye.

So here we go, Martin J Frankson and I are back for week three.

Who Killed the Dead Guy? What makes a good title for a crime novel.

OTC2

MF: Personally, I think Who Killed the Dead Guy would be a great title for a crime satire, but seriously, I would like to discuss what makes a good or bad title, and how writers arrive at their titles.

DK: Okay. My titles haven’t come the same way, but I know when one has the right ring for me. Ride the Lightning came from an expression used when someone gets shot with a Taser, as in they rode the lightning, something I found out while I was doing research for the story. I liked the phrase, it stayed with me, and it just fit the story. And as the story progressed I never had any second thoughts about it. It just always worked. And down the road, my publisher and editor agreed. So, for me, I have to live with the title for a while to make sure it really works. If I’m not 100% about it, then I need to come up with something better.

MF: I didn’t know that Ride the Lightning was a euphimism for tasering. That’s interesting and its a title in keeping with the story itself in terms of the pace and vicissitudes of Karl the main character. Right now, I’m looking at my shelf of crime novels that span the 1930’s to the present day, and while there have been changes in the style of titles, there doesn’t seem to be a general rule for what makes a good title, and that’s a good thing. I think the writer just has to avoid a bad title to come up with a good one. It’s much easier to think of a bad or corny title than it is to consciously invent a good one.

DK: For sure, it’s crucial that the title works, boiled down to a couple of words, the right couple of words that will make it stand out. And it’s got to suit the story as well as help market the book. A lot of weight on a couple of words. But, of course, what appeals to one person may not appeal to another.

Like everyone, I have favourites that just rock, many of which have stood the test of time: One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, A Clockwork Orange, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Midnight Cowboy, Get Shorty, Burning in water, drowning in flames, Cat on a hot tin roof (okay, this one started out as a play, then later became a film), To kill a Mockingbird, Valley of the Dolls, the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. I could go on for days, but these just grab me. There are many more that I think are great, and everbody will have their own favourites. But, when one grabs me, I have to pick up the book and start reading.

MF: A meaningful original title that grabs attention is the best kind especially in such a crowded market. I have noticed the proliferation of title patterns, not just in literature, but in film, too. One example is the present-continuous verb plus a person’s name e.g. Kissing Amy etc.

Sure, the initial examples of such titles were fresh and imaginative such as Divorcing Jack by Colin Bateman, but the style was copied too often by many books/movies, thereafter making them indistinguishable from one another. If I think a title is corny or follows such a heavily trodden path, it makes me wonder just how original the book behind the cover actually is.

DK: Right, and will likely keep you from picking a particular book off the store shelf, or wanting to see a film, like a sequel that’s got the same title, with a number tacked on.

MF: Right. Another one that comes to mind is The [an occupation’s] Daughter. There are so many titles that follow this pattern. Strangely, there are far fewer with the word ‘Son’. Perhaps we see daughters as more enigmatic that sons in our culture, I don’t know, but it’s interesting to point out. You only have to look on Amazon to see such patterns. Many of them may be good books, but the titles do seem a tad similar which is a shame.

Titles with the word ‘Fear’ and ‘Diary’ have become too common a coin too, unfortunately devaluing the currency of those fine words, and this is something the writer has to bear in mind. Think of a title and find out if it’s been used already, or if the words in the title form part of the titles for dozens or even hundreds of other books. If it does, you should think of changing the title.

DK: I agree with what you’re saying about overused phrases, and sometimes you have a title that works, and somewhere somebody did a song using the same title. It might even help if the song suits the story as well. Metallica’s album entitled Ride the Lightning (named after a seat in the electric chair) likely won’t get confused with my novel. And sometimes another novel with a similar or same title pops up long after the same title’s already been in print, as in the case of Stephen King’s Joyland (2013) which bears the same title as Emily Schultz’s first book Joyland (ECW Press, 2006). Emily wrote a great bit about this called Spending the Stephen King Money. It’s funny and really worth checking out: http://www.emilyschultz.com

MF : There is a long and valid tradition of sharing titles amongst movies, books and album titles and even bands. All About Eve is known as a movie but also was the name of a quite successful English rock band in the 80s whose name was inspired by the imagery of the movie. Heavy Metal and its various sub-genres may be a rich seam of titles to mine for crime novels and perhaps even horror, eg The Dead Shall Inherit, Graves of the Archangels, Effigy of the Forgotten. I could go on, and I note that the best titles are amongst bands from Scandanavia.

In crime literature, perhaps titles with words that are not associated with the genre could be what’s coming next as long as they aren’t contrived. I guess its just knowing what works and what doesn’t and having a good ear for it. We can’t put a finger on what works except for the feeling. Its funny about Emily’s book though, sharing the title Joyland with Mr King. I’m glad he saw the funny side of it.