Revisions

I finished the first draft of my second novel in Nov., and put it aside to ferment for a month.  Then I took it out and read through it as quickly as possible.  This is not so quick for me—I’m a slow reader, and besides, it was the holiday season.  But I read through it, doing no editing, only flagging pages that might need an edit.  This went well.  I’ve covered 177 pages so far, and I've only forgotten what I intended on one of the edit flags.  

The main purpose in reading the manuscript “in one sitting,” was to revise for structure changes.  I enjoy my own work, but I tried to be critical.  I found two things that I thought came under the category of structural edits.  One was a scene that needed to be moved.  It was good stuff, and provides the detective with clues or confirmation of something he suspected, but I had it in a spot where it slowed down the action.  I moved it to the right spot.

 

The other was challenging.  At the Bouchercon this fall in Cleveland, I attended a panel of folks who set their fiction in the good old noir days—the ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s--and one of the panelists, Sally Wright, straddles the ‘60s and ‘40s with WWII memories in her Ben Reese novels.  She said something to the effect of “War memories come in nightmares.”   

Well, I had a long flashback sequence of my heroes, Frank, the P.I., Max, his one-eyed attorney, and Amanda, their mutual love interest, during the Spanish Civil War.  I decided to re-write the first half of it as one of Frank’s recurring Spanish Civil War nightmares. 

 

I didn’t change too much to accomplish this.  I wondered if I needed a special dream voice, or weird colors, or something ethereal to make it a dream, but it was a nightmare based on Frank's real memory, and I told it straight.  

Of course, I’ll probably have to wait until the next read through to know for sure if this worked.  But I like it. 

A Baker's Dozen Favorite Books

Ack!  I forgot to list The Power and the Glory, by Graham Greene, which now makes this a Baker's Dozen.

In no particular order:

For Whom the Bell Tolls—Ernest Hemingway

To Kill a Mockingbird—Harper Lee

The Big Sleep—Raymond Chandler

The Long Goodbye—Raymond Chandler

The Maltese Falcon—Dashiell Hammett

Mildred Pierce—James M. Cain

The Postman Always Rings Twice—James M. Cain

The Stranger—Albert Camus

Dubliners—James Joyce

The Great Gatsby—F. Scott Fitzgerald

Bright Lights, Big City—Jay McInernay

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—Hunter S. Thompson

Flitcraft Parable

The Spitbucket blog focuses on my writing, so I didn’t mention earlier that I started attending some classes this fall at Johns Hopkins.  I’m in a non-degree program called “Osher,” mainly for retired folks who have days free and like to discuss and share ideas on literature, the arts, humanities, philosophy and the like.  

I was in a very good “Great Books” program, in which we read Best American Short Stories of the 20^th Century, the Updike-edited anthology.  This is a real treasure and I was fascinated to see week after week how some of these fun, powerful, rich stories affected folks who were not English lit students per se, just average albeit perceptive readers.  

At the end of the session, one of the gals invited us all over for lunch and drinks, and asked everyone to bring a short reading to share.  Interesting mish-mash of choices.  One fellow read a humorous Erskine Caldwell piece, two women brought the same poetry book, (in Hebrew!)

I brought “The Flitcraft Parable” (http://www.fallingbeam.org/beam.htm ) an excerpt from Dashiell Hammett’s novel, The Maltese Falcon.  I gave it my best dramatic reading, enjoying myself, but not expecting too much enthusiasm.  But I’m really happy to say it was a great hit.  The Flitcraft Parable stands on its own, and goes over well with people hearing it for the first time—which amazes me because I’ve read it time and again, and I’m not sure I understand it.  Or maybe I understand Flitcraft, but haven’t figured out why it’s in The Maltese Falcon, and what it means to Sam Spade.  These are questions I think about when I write.  

Anyhow, I had a great time sharing Hammett with my new old friends, and seeing how a great P.I. writer elicited their reactions. 

Our long national agent search is over...

I "signed" with Julia Lord Literary Management.  I'm excited and Julia and agent Ginger Curwen sound excited too.  Ginger gave my manuscript, White with Fish, Red with Murder, a good read.  From talking to her, I feel as if she really understood what I was trying to do.  She seemed to catch all the obscure allusions and the spirit of fun.  Julia has great enthusiasm for the book, and I hope she's right because it sounds like she has higher hopes for it than I did.  She was knocked out of her W. 9th St. office by Hurricane Sandy, but called me from her temp. quarters in Western Mass. to offer representation.   
They're a great pair for me to be working with as a first time novelist.  Let's hope this is the beginning of a wonderful partnership. 

An interview w/Harley Mazuk (cont'd)

You're organizing a dinner party of writers and can invite three authors, dead or alive.  Who's coming?  

This is a tough one as so many of the authors I'd like to meet might not be good dinner guests.  They might create a scene, and not with their writing.  Hemingway might want to box three rounds.  Raymond Chandler might be too depressing, too intoxicated to converse with.  Dr. Hunter S. Thompson might be on drugs and carrying semi-automatic pistols.  I admire Albert Camus, but I don't speak French.  I'd love to meet some Russians, but I don't speak Russian either.

 

Dashiell Hammett might do.  He drank too much but I'd say he could hold it.  He could tell me how to create scenes and "stir things up."  Edgar Allan Poe because he's a true genius.  I just hope he wouldn't be too tough on my work.  And I think I'd like to meet Flannery O'Connor.  Perhaps we could talk about ideas and character. 

Fun with Faulkner

I'm taking some classes for old folks at Johns Hopkins. (I qualify.) One of the instructors asked us to send him an e-mail so that he'd have all our addresses. I wrote, "Since we're doing a Faulkner story next week, maybe I should bring a pint of Bourbon. Faulkner would have wanted it that way."  I expected him to say that wasn't allowed, but instead he said, "Is a pint enough?"

So yesterday I put my partially consumed bottle of Knob Creek and a few plastic cups in my briefcase. Believe me, I had misgivings.  It didn't seem like a hard drinking group, and I didn't want to get any golden agers drunk in the middle of the afternoon.

But they were enthused (as old folks can be) when I took my bottle out, and they poured a few fingers in their cups as I passed it around.

The story was "That Evening Sun Go Down," about as accessible as Faulkner gets for me. An excellent discussion ensued. Boy, that story has depth. And how about those Compsons? What a crazy bunch!

An interview with Harley Mazuk

Each week the New York Time Book Review picks an author for a short interview in the feature "By the Book."  Amazon informed me that I'm ranked # 3214 in the mystery category, so I think it's going to be a while until the Times gets to  me.  So herewith,  an Interview with Harley Mazuk, author of White with Fish, Red with Murder, "The Tall Blonde with the Hot Boiler," and other short fiction.

 

What book is on your nightstand now?  

The Best American Short Stories of the Century.  I've been taking a class at Johns Hopkins and we're reading and discussing these—so far "Zelig" by Benjamin Rosenblatt, "Janus" by Ann Beattie, "Double Birthday," by Willa Cather, and "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien.  I often look at the stories in bed, so the book truly is on my nightstand.  This week, I'm reading, "That Evening Sun Go Down," by William Faulkner.  Re-reading it, actually.  It's one of the few Faulkner works I feel comfortable saying, "I understand that."  

To keep a hand in my genre, I'm reading (and sometimes re-reading) the Collected Short Stories of Raymond Chandler.  Last night I was reading "Blackmailers Don't Shoot," his first story.  Had I been the editor of Black Mask, I don't think I would have bought this one.  

What's on your nightstand now?