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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 7 with Dietrich Kalteis, Robin Spano and Martin J Frankson

25 Thursday Sep 2014

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We’re back with week seven of our freestyle chat – no rules, no editing, and no net under us. Dietrich Kalteis (author of Ride The Lightning) and Martin J Frankson (author of Dark Introductions and Party Girls collection of short stories) I discuss what we’re working on, writing in general and just whatever comes to mind – real off the cuff.

This week we have a very special guest: Robin Spano, the talented author of the page-turning Clare Vengel Undercover novels Death Plays Poker, Death’s Last Run and Dead Politician Society

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Robin Spano

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Dietrich Kalteis

And our thanks to Peter Rozovsky for use of yet another great noir shot from his vault.

So here we go.

MF: So far, the characters in my first two crime novels were not police officers, therefore I was free from having to research process and procedure, as they could just follow their noses and do what they wanted. However, when it comes to geography and technology, I do my homework. I like to refer to real streets, buildings, bars, coffee houses and stores so that readers may say ‘I was there’ and perhaps visualize the story taking place interwoven with their own memories. Right now, I’m doing something I haven’t done before, and that’s more detailed planning for my third novel that’s set in Vancouver. During my time there earlier this year, I took extensive notes on my travels, and these have proven valuable as I want to infuse as much realistic detail as possible. Not just geographic but societal as well. I have started creating character cards detailing things like the kind of car they drive, personal likes and dislikes etc. I’ve just spent fifteen minutes on a used car website in Vancouver to give me the lowdown on the real makes and models that are driven these days. Google Maps is wonderful too. Sometimes though, I make something up. If I need a motel where one doesn’t exist, then I invent it. What’s your take on research and what do you like to include and leave out?

 

DK: I like to keep towns, landmarks and major cross streets real for the most part, but I also like to throw in a location that doesn’t actually exist if it better serves the purpose of the scene (maybe a store, gas station, bar or restaurant). As far as characters like police officers, I haven’t written a story that is heavy on procedure either. Most of my lead characters have been from the shady side of the tracks, and they’re usually avoiding the law.

 

RS: I’m glad you’re researching Vancouver so intensely, Martin. It means we’ll get to see more of you. I’m with you guys on keeping street scenes true to life unless I need to change them. In Death’s Last Run, I invented a bar because nefarious stuff was going down (like drug money laundering) and I didn’t want to taint a real Whistler business with a negative brush. But in my head it is the same bar where I’ve had apres ski beers a few times, same layout and position in town. I use Starbucks way too much, which I’m pretty sure reveals my own addiction. And like Martin, I use Google Maps street view a lot, too. I find that especially useful in cities where I’ve spent time and remember the feel of the place, but want extra detail, like was that street paved with concrete or cobblestone?

 

MF: Thanks Robin. Mrs Frankson and I are planning a 3 week visit to Vancouver next May/June time. Vancouver will be an annual visit for me. I totally love the city. I too sometimes base fictional bars/cafes in place of ones I frequent, but its best to give them fictional names when derrings-do are set there otherwise it could be a legal minefield for sure, not to mention unfair to the owners. Shady characters are probably the most fun to write about. However, I do like stories about corrupt cops. They have to work within tight bounds and procedures, therefore have to be imaginative when trying to work outside the system without being caught. I once read there are two kinds of corruption, corrupt for greed and corrupt for the job. The former like to line their pockets, whereas the latter break the rules to put away criminals who would get away with it if the letter of the law took its course. One of my favourite writers, the late Derek Raymond wrote several crime novels featuring a lead but nameless detective who constantly broke the rules for the greater good as he saw it. For books like that, knowing procedure would be vital, otherwise how would one know how such rules are bent or broken? They also make for a good read. Nightmares of the Streets and The State of Denmark are two of his books that come to mind, but I digress.

 

I strongly believe that art, least of all novels, should not be set in a societal or political bubble. If there is a major national or world event, the world within the novel should at least acknowledge its existence. It may or may not affect the characters or the story itself, but it does demonstrate a grounded and historical relevance the reader may appreciate. It also adds another dimension to the characters. They don’t exist in a world by themselves. It may be fiction, but there is a world beyond the walls of the scenario the writer creates. Do you like to read work where the real world permeates through the fiction, and if so, how has this manifest itself in your own work, or do you think it’s important at all?

 

RS: That’s a great observation. Another Canadian crime writer, Robert Rotenberg, recently gave me the advice to always have a big, world story going on at the same time as your own narrative. Sometimes it can tie into your plot, and other times it can parallel it, and other times, like you say, it can set the novel in its place in history. I think Rotenberg uses his own advice really well in Stranglehold, which takes place in the midst of a Toronto mayoral campaign.

 

DK: I can see such events lending certain believability to the story. It can make it seem like real life is going on, even if it just floats in the background. Another great example of this is Black Rock by John McFetridge. The story’s set in Montreal in 1970. It’s about a cop hunting a serial killer amid the riots and bombings that actually went on at the time – a great read by the way.

 

MF: That sounds like an interesting book to explore. I don’t think I’ve read crime fiction set in Quebec, and it has seen dramatic political intrigue over the past 45 years. There are many crime novels set in Ireland where the ‘Troubles’ as they were so-called form the backdrop. Stuart Neville comes to mind here. This does add gravitas and credibility to the story. Fiction maybe, but a branch from the tree of truth. It also shows that the writer doesn’t live in an ivory tower. These days, social awareness by the artist is gaining greater currency in society.

 

Putting on my reader hat, I really don’t care if correct police process or procedure is followed, within reason of course. For example, we all know the police can arrest suspects, but I don’t know what paperwork they then need to prepare afterwards. I do find that stuff boring and unnecessary unless the paperwork or other forms of process are in themselves, a falling domino that triggers a chain of events. If so, such detail is fine. If the writer is just putting the detail in to show off his/her homework skills, then it’s not moving the story forward; but, if it it’s kept to a minimum, then that’s okay. We can’t be absolutist on anything in art can we? There is always room. However, in the crime/thriller genre, the story is what matters. I know some people are keen for 100% accuracy, but that’s a little pedantic in my book, if you pardon the unintended pun, but everyone’s entitled to what they appreciate. I can only speak for myself and my own tastes. Is factual detail a keynote of your own writing, and how much leeway do you think a writer can have ranging from total faithful adherence to fact to the other end of the scale in just making stuff up?

 

DK: As I said, I haven’t had the need to cite exact police procedure, but if it was needed, I would seek it out. But if it’s something general like a cop character filing paperwork, I agree, it’s probably enough to just give the broad strokes, and leave out the boring details. I always try not to throw so much detail in that I feel I’m slowing the pace of the story.

 

RS: I’ve asked a few cops and lawyers—who, surprisingly, like to read crime fiction—if procedural mistakes bug them. Every single time I’ve asked, the answer has been no. They’re bugged if the error is egregious, but only because the mistake takes them out of the story they were enjoying. They’re unfazed by technical mistakes. Like you guys, I could not care less about procedure—and neither could Clare, my protagonist. She works within the system, but she’s undercover, so off on her own most of the time. There’s a cop in LA who I play iPhone chess with. (If you’re reading this, Domino King, sorry I’ve been away from the game all summer long!) who helps me keep it real enough to be credible.

 

MF: I’m with you on that. On the point of historical writing, it would be interesting if Google Maps allowed one to look at a historical view in streetview as opposed to just a snapshot of today. Imagine the possibilities, the old cars, the old stores and buildings.

 

RS: That would be SO cool. Though I so far haven’t been tempted to write anything historical, I’d enjoy walking down my old street in the 70s from when I was a kid. It would also be a neat way to teach history to future generations.

 

MF: I think Google is actually working on this. Imagine the possibilities of putting on a headset and being immersed in a new city, virtually walked down its streets at any point in time. I work in IT, and I can see this happening within 20 years tops. It’s exciting, not to mention a boon for researchers and history buffs and writers too, but I can imagine it being quite a distraction. I guess in the meantime, we have to rely on old-school methods for that, but going down the rich avenues of research can be fun, too. For example, one of my characters in my next novel is a figure from the past. I chose him to live in a small village of Old Crow, Yukon. I then found a great website about Old Crow and its cultural and current heritage, and that got me going down some wonderful side-roads, finding out about things like the Gwitch’in language which would be criminal to ignore. Research does add armoury to the pen and the imagination and does enrich a writer’s own knowledge, even if what we read or find doesn’t filter into our work.

 

DK: Absolutely. I’m currently working on a period piece that takes place at the beginning of the twentieth century, and that requires quite a bit of research to bring the story to life: the architecture, the type of vehicles they drove, cultural habits, the way they dressed, even the way they spoke back then. All of these details have to be handled carefully and not overused, but they do help to bring the story to life for the reader. It’s amazing what I found for my story: entire newspapers of the exact dates I needed, numerous articles, books and personal accounts, historical maps (one with overlays of then and now), a phone directory, a business directory, lots of photos, even a short film clip from the early 1900s.  And you’re right, Martin. You do unearth some interesting facts along the way.

 

more next week …

Off the Cuff : Part 6 with Dietrich Kalteis and Martin J Frankson

08 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by in All Things Writing, Discussions, The Arts in General

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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.

 

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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 …