The Deadly Sin

H. Bedford-Jones, known as “The King of the Pulps” because he was so prolific, made a very decent living selling stories to the fiction magazines of his day. In today’s dollars, he was a millionaire.

He wrote for about six hours every day and had four typewriters going — each with a different story or novel. If he got stuck on one, he slid over to the next machine and started banging out more on that story.

We don’t even know exactly how much he wrote. He was a poor record keeper, and used several pen names. The current tally of his output is 231 novels, 21 novellas, 372 novelettes, and 748 short stories, plus an incredible amount of non-fiction, poetry, radio dramas, and articles. All in a 40 year career. Something over 25 million words he wrote.

So, when I came across a copy of his book This Fiction Business (revised edition, 1929) — I bought it. My thinking being this guy knew a thing or two about writing. The book is quite entertaining, very inspirational, and informative. It’s a bit dated, but the publishing industry hasn’t actually changed all that much in the 90 years since the book was published. Much of the business aspect still applies for those going the traditional publishing route.

Chapter 6 is titled “The Deadly Sin”. In this chapter, HB-J reveals the one thing that holds back new and inexperienced writers from getting published — or, in today’s indie world, from getting readers.

The deadly sin is “The lack of perception as to what must be emphasized…”.

The new writer with little experience often misses the beat when she fails to emphasize what is important in the story from the reader’s perspective.

HB-J gives the example of a friend who couldn’t sell a story, even though he had editors praise it. HB-J read the story and saw the problem right away. The writer had disposed of the climactic conflict in 2 sentences.

Readers don’t want that. They want to fight with the hero or heroine in an arduous contest, perhaps almost lose, and then come out victorious.

Ironically enough, just before reading This Fiction Business, I read a short story in an anthology where the author made the same mistake. In the span of two sentences the story went from very good to ho-hum.

The writer lost me as a reader in those two sentences. I have no desire to read anything else she’s written. I don’t have the money to waste on a book that might have a lackluster climactic scene. Not when there are plenty of very good writers to read.

The art of telling a story is to know how to pace it for the maximum effect you, the writer, want to achieve. You also need to know what your audience is going to want to spend the most time experiencing. Is it the description of a room, or an info dump of background material, or the main character locked in a battle with the villain?

Some writers just naturally know how to tell a story. They’re the ones you want to listen to sitting around the campfire. The rest of us have to learn how to tell a story. And the best way to do that is to, as Stephen King noted, read lots and write lots.

Only by writing story after story do we get the practice needed for us to learn how to tell a good story.

Only by reading story after story, written by those who know how to tell a story, will we gain the feel for how it’s done.

So now, my writing friends, go forth and sin no more.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Rational Anarchism

Lately I’ve been reading post-apocalyptic literature (among other things). Reading how other writers envision the future when humanity has a chance to start over is always interesting, for it reveals how these writers see themselves and their fellows.

One of my first published books was The Morning Star, the first book in The Rocheport Saga. The Saga is the autobiography, as it were, of Bill Arthur, who is a survivor of an unknown plague that wiped out most of earth’s human population. He begins to gather together other survivors in an attempt to reboot civilization. But not the old one that died, a new one that is better.

Much of Bill’s political philosophy is drawn from libertarian writings. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress being one. So I thought I’d re-post one of my writings from the very early days of this blog. Let’s look once again at Rational Anarchism. Enjoy!

Nearly fifty years ago, a writer by the name of Robert A Heinlein wrote and got published a book entitled, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. One of the principal characters in the novel is Professor Bernardo de la Paz, who describes himself as a “Rational Anarchist”.

What is a Rational Anarchist? Let’s take a look, because the words rational and anarchy seem to be contradictory. A Rational Anarchist:

    • Believes the state, society, and government are concepts which do not exist apart from the physical acts of self-answerable individuals.
    • Believes blame, guilt, responsibility, and answerability makes it impossible for a person to shift, share, or distribute blame.
    • Being rational, the rational anarchist understands not everyone shares his or her views; yet, he or she strives to live perfectly in an imperfect world; completely aware he or she is not capable of achieving perfection.
    • Accepts all rules society deems necessary to secure its freedom and liberty.
    • Is free no matter what the rules are in his or her society. If the rules are tolerable, he or she will tolerate them. If not, the rational anarchist will break them.
    • Is free because the rational anarchist knows only he or she is morally responsible for everything he or she does.

Why do I bring this up? Because Bill Arthur in The Rocheport Saga tries to create a new world along similar lines. He begins as an anarchistic libertarian, seeking on a societal level to create the ultimate environment for freedom.  Eventually he realizes people are people. Even after a calamity which wipes out 98 out of every 100 people, those who survive haven’t essentially changed. The survivors are no different than they were before they were survivors. People want freedom, but actually crave security and will sacrifice freedom for security every time they feel insecure.

In the end, Bill Arthur becomes a Rational Anarchist. He concludes the Stoics were right over 2,000 years ago: all we can ultimately do is control ourselves.

Tell me what you think about freedom and security. Is Bill Arthur right?

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Getting into Books

A writing guru whose mailing list I’m on is always advising us writers to sell the read, not the book. And that’s ultimately what we are all trying to do. Some of us just do so better than the rest of us.

As a reader, that is, of course, exactly what I want to know: where will I be going, what will I be experiencing, feeling, doing as the result of reading this book. The book I’m considering buying, or the one I bought and am considering reading.

I read fiction primarily for entertainment. If I learn something new along the way, or am given cause to stop and think for a moment — extra kudos go to the writer.

For me, reading is no different than watching TV, or a movie, or playing a video game. Except my imagination is doing the work, instead of someone else’s — and that’s what makes reading, IMO, the better form of entertainment. Even the best form. Reading is active. Videos, in all forms, are passive. And active is good. Stretching those imagination muscles is good. It’s why reading is my favorite form of entertainment.

The other day I was reading Lawrence Block’s introduction to one of the editions of Black Orchids, the ninth Nero Wolfe mystery, by Rex Stout.

Block’s observation as to why we reread the Nero Wolfe mysteries is enlightening, and I think a vital key as to why some of us really get into books. Block wrote:

I know several men and women who are forever rereading the Nero Wolfe canon. …

They do this not for the plots, which are serviceable, nor for the suspense, which is a good deal short of hair-trigger even on first reading. Nor, I shouldn’t think, are they hoping for fresh insight into the human condition. No, those of us who reread Rex Stout do so for the pure joy of spending a few hours in the most congenial household in American letters, and in the always engaging company of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin.

… we know these two, and it is a joy to see them simply being themselves.

What Block wrote describes to a T why I thoroughly enjoy rereading the Nero Wolfe mysteries. Stout wrote in such a way that we are the fly on the wall observing the goings on in that delightful brownstone.

I’d go one step further than Mr Block: any book I read is for the characters. I don’t read for the plot. One reason, I suppose, why I enjoy plotless novels. I also don’t read for the suspense, which I prefer rather low key. And I’m old enough that I probably won’t learn anything new about the human condition.

I read for the characters — pure and simple. The experience of meeting new and interesting people.

If a writer can deliver the goods, characters I can fall in love with, then he has me hook, line, and sinker. I don’t care what else is in, or not in, the book.

Unfortunately, this does not occur all that often. Most writers seem obsessed with the plot. They are too busy counting plot points or beats, writing a detailed outline, following the Hero’s Quest, or whatever other nonsense is being pushed by the writing guru of the moment.

Most writers fail to heed Bradbury’s Dictum: create your characters, let them do their thing, and there’s your story.

Fiction is not about the plot — it’s about the characters. The characters are the ones who pull us into the settings, the time period, the world they inhabit.

I cannot recall one book where I walked away remembering the plot and not the characters. Not a single one.

At base, plots are simple. There are at most just a handful of stories. They are mundane at best. But characters, like people, are complex. Everyone has an outer life and an inner life. Good characters are no different.

Which is more interesting? Tarzan, or the plot of a Tarzan novel? Dirk Pitt, or the plot of a Dirk Pitt novel? Sherlock Holmes, or the plot of a Sherlock Holmes story?

Many of us would like to get into a spaceship and fly off to other worlds. I don’t remember a single plot in Eric Frank Russell’s Men, Martians, and Machines. But I do remember the chess playing octopoid Martians, and the android Jay Score.

Good characters pull us into their world. We become one with them and experience what they experience. This is because the writer can’t give us everything. He can only suggest, and once he does our imaginations take over and do the rest.

This is not the case with even a good movie or TV episode. That’s because we’re passive. Everything is fed to us. We can only react. We are limited to what’s on the screen — which is why special effects are becoming increasingly important.

However, my imagination can do what special effects will never be able to do. My imagination is mine and makes the story live for me. Special effects are general. They target everyone, and in the end that means they shoot for the lowest common denominator. My imagination produces special effects tailored for me.

The secret to a good book lies in the characters. They make any old plot shine. Because it’s the characters who make the plot come alive. Create the characters, let them do their thing — and there is the story.

As a reader, I appreciate the wonderful characters good writers create.

As a writer, I appreciate the readers who fall in love with my characters.

No greater compliment was paid to me then when this review appeared for Trio in Death-Sharp Minor:

Some fictional universes are just places you want to be, and I have been so moved by the world CW Hawes has created for private detective Justinia Wright and her brother, Harry. … I would drop by their house any time, if only for a glass of Madeira.

Tina and Harry’s home will never top that of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. However, I will be very satisfied if I’m granted second place.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Entertainment

Last week I talked about commercial fiction and mentioned that commercial fiction is “what most people want”. This week, I’d like to explore that notion a bit further.

Storytelling is, at base, entertainment. Fiction is merely the written extension of storytelling. Ever since human beings gathered around a fire at the end of the day, they’ve been telling each other stories. When writing was invented, the good stories were written down and thus fiction was born.

When I surveyed my mailing list subscribers not too long ago and asked why they read fiction, almost everyone who answered said it was to escape. We look for the excitement that’s lacking in our lives in the stories someone else wrote down about people with more exciting lives than our own.

H. Bedford-Jones perhaps put it best, when he wrote that the business of fiction “is simply to make its readers forget their troubles.” 

As a writer, let me confess right now that part of the reason I write is to vicariously experience the lives of the characters I create — lives far more exciting than my own.

And since I’m a reader as well, I’ll confess right now I read in order to vicariously experience things I never could in real life. I’m an armchair survivalist, adventurer, private investigator, monster hunter, you name it.

Romance novels are perhaps the best proof that fiction exists for entertainment. They are the ultimate in escapist literature. The romance novel, in all its forms, provides the reader with the perfect experience of love. We all desire to find Mr or Miss Right. And we can do so in the pages of a romance novel. When in reality we may not be so lucky.

But maybe you’re happily married, or happily settled in with your partner, and you have no need to dream about that perfect relationship. On the other hand, your job… Now that’s another story.

However, in the pages of a book, you can experience any job you want. Or you can do your job on Mars, or Delta Cygnus IV.

Don’t have a lot of money? You can in the pages of a book.

Fiction entertains us. It lets us escape from the humdrum. It lets us experience vicariously what we can’t experience in reality.

Being an avid reader and accumulator of books, I can look back and see how my interests have changed over the course of my life.

At one time dinosaurs were my passion. Then sailing ships. After that airships. I can see when my interests waxed, waned, and circled back to wax again. My science fiction and fantasy books date from when I was young. My mysteries from the 1980s. Horror, in all its various forms, goes back to my childhood, with a big upswing occurring in the 70s.

As of right now I mostly read mysteries, followed by horror. There is the occasional post-apocalyptic novel. Or space opera, or adventure story, or sea yarn. But when push comes to shove, I find myself reaching for that private eye novel, or that ghost story.

These are the stories that entertain me the most. They are the stories that provide me with a different and more exciting life.

And ten years from now? Who knows? I do know, so one thing. I’ll be reading something I find entertaining.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Commercial Fiction

Commercial fiction has existed ever since that first storyteller figured out he could get paid for telling stories. Paid on a regular basis, that is. That genius is lost to the mists of time, sad to say, but his legacy lives on.

The seeds of modern commercial fiction began in the 1700s with such money making gems as Pamela and Varney the Vampire. And continued into the 1800s, first with anonymous potboilers, such as those written by Louisa May Alcott, and stories from the pens of Poe, Dickens, and Trollope; and then on to the penny dreadfuls, the five-cent novels, and ten-cent novels of the later 1800s.

Commercial fiction blossomed in the 20th Century beginning in the 1920s and it continues unabated to this day.

So just exactly what is commercial fiction? H. Bedford-Jones (dubbed King of the Pulps) put it this way:

Look at magazine fiction. Has it any pretensions, any purpose, other than to entertain the reader? Absolutely none. A fiction magazine shuns in horror all propaganda, religious controversy, and boresome highbrow effusions. Its business is simply to make its readers forget their troubles and come again for more.

Edgar Rice Burroughs was even more straightforward:

No fiction is worth reading except for entertainment. If it entertains and is clean, it is good literature, or its kind. If it forms the habit of reading, in people who might not read otherwise, it is the best literature.

The bottom line is this: commercial fiction’s sole purpose is to entertain. And I would add — make money for the writer.

The writer of commercial fiction is an entertainer. No different than a singer, or a magician, or a carnival busker, or any sort of performer.

However, we writers aren’t told this. At least not by our English lit teachers in high school or college. And certainly not by creative writing professors.

Why? Well, the establishment only values what’s called literary fiction. That is, books and stories that have a message and are written with the message foremost in mind, not whether or not the story entertains. It may entertain, but that’s not its purpose.

Now the irony of this view lies in the fact that much so-called “literary” fiction was in its day commercial fiction.

One need go no further than Shakespeare. Bill did not sit down and write Hamlet or MacBeth or The Taming of the Shrew with the literary value of these stories in mind. He was writing to make a few quid to keep a roof over his head, food on the table, and to make sure his wife and mistress were happy.

Yet while making a buck, Bill wrote some great literature. Funny how that worked out.

Louisa May Alcott turned to writing anonymous potboilers to put food on the table and pay the rent because her head-in-the-clouds father, Bronson Alcott, didn’t have a clue as to how to support his family. Louisa May also wrote Little Women to keep the wolf from the door. The rest, as they say, is history.

Edgar Allan Poe wrote commercial fiction. He told stories for money. So did Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Rudyard Kipling, and H. Rider Haggard. And for that matter, so did J.K. Rowling.

Yet the academics, even for JKR, try their best to hide the filthy lucre aspect and dub the writings of those folks as great literature.

Even JRR Tolkien wasn’t trying to write great literature. He kind of thought of himself as this reincarnated Norse bard who was telling a story in the king’s great hall. And why did bards do that? To entertain their host as payment for a meal and a bed.

Robert E Howard wrote stories to make a buck. He was writing to entertain. In the process, he wrote some very fine literature. The same with Dickens, and Trollope, and Alcott, and Wells, and Dumas, and Verne, and most of the writers who wrote what is today called great literature.

I’ve been thinking about this distinction between literary fiction and commercial fiction, because of my interest in the writers who wrote for the pulp magazines. They wrote for money. They weren’t writing great literature. They were writing entertainment. Yet sometimes they did indeed write great literature, or at least fiction that came close to great literature.

One of the best statements on religious belief that I’ve read is in the second Tarzan novel. Who would’ve guessed?

H. Rider Haggard’s She was written as entertainment, but the story drives us to think about the purpose of life. And that is exactly what great literature is supposed to do.

Commercial fiction isn’t bad. It’s what most people want. So why shouldn’t someone write it for them?

Quite honestly, I mostly read commercial fiction. I think Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” is a fabulous story. So much is said by not saying anything. It’s a thought-provoking and memorable piece of fiction. But I’d much rather read Robert E Howard’s Solomon Kane stories. Why? Because they’re fun.

This exploration of mine into the writers of pulp fiction and the stories that they wrote has given me a lot to reflect on concerning my own path as a writer.

Given my present course, I see myself in a kind of fictional no man’s land. I’m not writing literary fiction and I’m not writing commercial fiction. As a result, I’m not making much money. And I do want to make money. At least enough to cover my expenses.

I’m not sure what the future will bring. How this exploration will affect my writing if it affects it at all. Because the actual writing is only one piece of the puzzle. There are also the other pieces: catchy titles, catchy cover art, catchy blurbs, effective marketing (both paid and unpaid). And who you know.

We can’t forget the who you know factor. If Mark Dawson, or Michael Anderle, or Agatha Frost, or Scott Pratt suddenly started promoting my books — why, my problems would be over.

All of the above, plays into the end result.

So I’m off to have a think. Not a heavy think. Just a let it simmer think. In the meantime, I’m going to have a cup of tea and read Ganbaru, written by Matthew Cormack, who’s one of my favorite post-apocalyptic writers. He entertains, and makes me think. What can be better than that?

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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The Indie Writer’s Key to Success

Every day I’m in contact with indie authors (independent author-publishers) who are looking to make it big and are languishing in obscurity.

Back in 2014, when I started publishing, the indie world was changing. The old days were for all intents and purposes gone. The days of simply writing and putting your books up on Amazon, making the first book in your series free or 99¢, and collecting the money. Those days ended in 2014.

Unfortunately, all of the successful writers from whom I was getting my advice, didn’t see the newer, more difficult world coming.

Hindsight is always 20/20.

However, 5 years later, as I continue to look for monetary success, there remain three keys that all successful indie writers follow. These worked in the past and they work now. And while I do follow these three keys, I haven’t struck gold — yet. But that doesn’t mean others haven’t done so by following these keys — for they have.

So, my writer friends, and interested reader friends, lets take a look at these keys. But first,

The Base

Success always builds on a strong base. For writers that base is:

      1. Good writing. You have to know how to tell a story. The story your target audience wants to hear in the way they want to hear it. If you can’t tell a good story, you need to learn how before you do anything else.
      2. A good looking package. Your book needs to look appealing. That means appropriate cover art for the genre. Cover art that looks professional.
      3. A pleasant reading experience. The text needs to be well formatted and free of typos and textual issues as much as possible.

Now on to the keys!

Publish Often

Every successful indie author publishes often. “Often”, of course, is subject to debate. How often is often?

There is a well-known phenomenon on Amazon: the 30 day cliff. Publish a book and after 30 days, it drops off the charts. I’ve seen this with my own books. I’d get a few sales in the first 30 days, and after that nothing.

The best way to beat the 30 day cliff is by publishing often.

January through March of 2018 I published the first three Pierce Mostyn books. One each month. Sales didn’t start falling off until July. I published Van Dyne’s Vampires in October, but it was too late to revive dropping sales. The advantage I’d gained from the rapid release was gone.

The lesson I learned was — I can’t wait 7 months to release my next book. 

At a minimum, I think indie authors need to publish a book every 3 months. Quarterly is the minimum publishing schedule to maintain some kind of momentum.

However, every other month would be even better.

And monthly is ideal.

Why?

It has has to do with the nature of the indie audience. The readers of indie authored books tend to be voracious readers. Reading several books a week. Or more.

I’m a rather slow reader. Yet I manage to read at least 2 books a month and usually more.

Indie writers need to publish often to feed the indie reader. 

If you don’t publish often — you will be forgotten. 

Remember, thousands of books are added to Amazon’s catalog every day.

Write Fast

The corollary to Publish Often is to write fast.

In the pulp era, fast writing meant food on the table and a roof over the writer’s head.

Hugh B Cave averaged 5 to 6 stories every week. That’s easily equivalent to 2 novels a month.

Erle Stanley Gardner, while working full time as a partner in his law firm, wrote 100,000 words a month. And in the beginning of his writing career he was experiencing a 90% rejection rate.

My hero, Anthony Trollope, while working full time at the post office, wrote 2,500 words per day.

If you want to make money, if you want readers, writing must be viewed as a job. A business. Set goals and keep them.

Trollope wrote what I think is a doable daily quota. He used writing sprints (he apparently invented them) to achieve his daily goal. He timed himself and aimed for 250 words every 15 minutes.

Using a 15 minute sprint, I’ve easily surpassed 250 words in that 15 minutes. So Trollope’s word count is achievable. And the nice thing about writing sprints is that you can scatter them throughout the day if you have to in order to achieve your word count.

A goal of 2,000 words/day, if met, will produce 730,000 words in a year. That’s a dozen 60,000 word novels. Does any writer actually need more than that?

Write in Series

The final key is that indie authors must write in series. Why? Because indie readers want to read series of books rather than standalone novels.

The readers of traditionally published books tend to read fewer books and are okay with the standalone novel. Not so, indie readers.

Indie readers also prefer novels to short stories. And novels to even novellas. Something to keep in mind.

Summary

Write fast, in series, and publish often. That is the baseline. If you aren’t doing those things, you are setting yourself a nearly impossible task if you want to gain readers and make money from your writing.

Advertising won’t do it. A mailing list won’t do it. A website or a closed Facebook group won’t do it. There are no substitutes.

Michael Anderle fast published his way to a half million a year income from writing. Advertising helped — but only after the series was selling. He knew he could pour money into advertising because the series was already selling on its own.

For me, I know publishing a book a month isn’t realistic. I don’t write fast enough. But I do think once a quarter is doable.

So there it is. Go forth my friends and write and publish and then write some more!

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy writing (and reading)!

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Mystery vs Suspense vs Thriller One Reader’s View

Crime can pay. Crime writing, that is. Then, again, real crime can pay too. But we’ll leave real crime for others to do. Today I want to talk about crime fiction; specifically about mysteries, suspense, and thrillers.

Thrillers

Thrillers are all the rage these days, but what exactly is a thriller?

A thriller is an action story. Usually fast-paced. The protagonist is in danger from the beginning. There is a bad guy and the protagonist must stop him (or her) from accomplishing his nefarious deed. We usually know the good and bad guys right from the beginning.

The scope of the thriller is often large. The bad guy isn’t playing for pennies. He’s going to blow up a city, poison a country, start a nuclear war. The thriller is about big action and big bad guys. The protagonist, to some degree, must also be larger than life.

The works of Tom Clancy and Clive Cussler are examples of good thrillers.

In the hands of a good writer, the thriller can be a thrilling read. Often, though, the writing is sub-par and the story not plausible, unless I, the reader, exercise a mega-dose of the suspension of disbelief. This is how the Jack Reacher stories strike me.

Many books are labeled as thrillers, which technically aren’t. Why? Money. As one wit noted, the difference between a mystery and a thriller is about a hundred thousand dollars.

Suspense

The suspense novel is often a slow burn story. The focus isn’t on action, although there may be quite a bit of action. The focus is on creating a feeling of suspense in the reader.

In the suspense story, the reader is omniscient. We see everything. We see the bad guy planning whatever it is he is going to do. We see the protagonist completely unaware, at least at the beginning, of the bad guy and his actions. We, the reader, see much more of the danger than the protagonist does and therein lies the creation of suspense.

The scope of the suspense story is generally limited and focused on the main character. Things are happening, usually to the main character, and he doesn’t know why. We, the reader, usually do, however, which adds to the suspense.

Cornell Woolrich was the suspense writer par excellence. Lester Dent also wrote some fine suspense novels.

The Mystery

The mystery is about solving crime, usually a murder. The crime usually happens at the beginning of the story and the sleuth’s job is to solve it. The protagonist (the sleuth) can be a professional or an amateur. And we usually do not learn who the bad guy is until the end of the story.

There are many mystery sub-categories. Right now, the most popular is what I call the chick lit cozy. It is the cozy mystery with the addition of elements from chick lit: a young (or youngish) woman, who is the main character/sleuth; she is divorced or a widow; has moved to a new location, and embarked on a new career; and there’s romance. Along with the regular cozy mystery, these are very clean and non-violent reads.

An indie example is Agatha Frost’s Peridale Cafe Murder Mystery series.

In a mystery, the reader only knows what he or she is told. We see what the sleuth sees. The story is as much a puzzle for the reader as it is for the protagonist.

The mystery can be filled with suspense and it can be thrilling. The danger to the protagonist builds, along with the story. The more the sleuth learns about the criminal, the greater the danger he or she is in.

Personal Assessment

For me, I find the mystery to be the most satisfying reading experience. It combines the puzzle with suspense and thrilling action.

While the mystery is technically a plot-driven story, rather than character-driven, I find that the most interesting mysteries are those which have interesting characters.

Mystery plots are basically all the same. There is a murderer who has killed someone and is trying to cover up the crime while the sleuth is trying to uncover it.

What makes the mystery story interesting is the cast of characters and the twists and turns of the storyline. And quite often the cast of characters can save a mediocre storyline.

After all, we remember Nero Wolfe, Sam Spade, Hercule Poirot, Mr and Mrs North, and Sherlock Holmes. But how many of the actual mystery stories featuring these characters do we remember? I bet not many.

In my opinion, interesting characters make mysteries more interesting reads than thrillers or suspense novels. Which usually have fairly stock characters.

Pacing is another reason I prefer the mystery as a reader. The pacing accelerates with the action in the story. As the clues (and sometimes the bodies) pile up and the more the sleuth knows, the more desperate the killer becomes. And the sleuth finds himself in ever increasing danger.

The action ratchets up in a natural progression. Unlike the thriller where were out of breath by page 2 or 3. The mystery, to my mind, is much more realistic and natural.

Finally, as a reader, I don’t necessarily want to know everything. For me the suspense of knowing there is a killer out there is sufficient. As I learn information with the sleuth, I form a bond with him. We are in this together, as it were. The very nature of the mystery, helps draw me into the world of the sleuth and his dilemma.

There are some fine mysteries being written today by indie authors. Two I especially like are:

Richard Schwindt’s Death in Sioux Lookout trilogy

Joe Congel’s Tony Razzolito P.I. series

Both are very good and very much worth a read.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Sredni Vashtar

Of all the books and stories I read during my elementary school years, there is one that stands out above all others and that one is “Sredni Vashtar” by Saki (HH Munro). You can read the story for free here.

Munro was one of a host of brilliant British writers and poets who died in World War I. He was killed by a German sniper on 14 November 1916. He was 45.

“Sredni Vashtar” was written sometime between 1900 and 1911 and was published in his short story collection The Chronicles of Clovis.

Readers who say they don’t like short stories because they supposedly lack a fully developed storyline or fully developed characters, can’t have read any good short stories. Because a good short story will give you all of those things and will do so in a small package. A package that will be quick to read — yet possibly remain with you for a lifetime.

The Story (warning: there be spoilers here)

Like all good short stories, the focus of the tale is narrow. “Sredni Vashtar” revolves around two people who are forced to live together and who don’t like each other. We learn very little about the household or the two people’s history. But we don’t need that information in order to understand what is going on in the story. The tale is about two people at a specific point in their lives.

Ten year old Conradin is an orphan, and the story is told through his eyes. He is sickly, the doctor giving him but five more years at the most to live. He has been taken in by his well-to-do cousin, Mrs De Ropp, who is overbearing, controlling, and takes great delight in denying her ward any pleasures.

To escape the unpleasantness of Mrs De Ropp and her world, Conradin lives in his imagination. He dreams of escaping his cousin’s smothering attentiveness and of getting revenge for her meanness.

Somewhere along the way, Conradin picks up a hen and a polecat-ferret. The former he loves, and she becomes, in a way, the object of his affection. The latter he both fears and holds in awe. He names the creature Sredni Vashtar and comes to think of the animal as his god, even going so far as to worship the animal with offerings of nutmeg that he steals from his cousin, which she uses to help her toothache. 

The two animals are kept in an unused garden shed. For a time, Conradin is able keep their presence a secret as Mrs De Ropp is quite myopic, but eventually his continual trips to the shed draw her attention, and that is not a good thing. So it is, one day, over tea, that she announces the hen has been sold.

Conradin doesn’t give his cousin the satisfaction of seeing the hurt she has caused. He simply refuses to eat the toast she has made for him, which is one of his favorite things to eat.

From that point on, Conradin’s faith in his god soars to a new level. He nightly prays an unmentioned request, simply saying: “Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.”

But when Conradin’s trips to the shed do not stop, Mrs De Ropp becomes suspicious and makes another visit. This time she finds the locked hutch and suspects her ward has another pet. She goes through his room until she finds the key, and then forbids him to leave the house.

From his window, Conradin watches Mrs De Ropp invade the shed and feels that once again he has lost. Even his god is powerless against his cousin. He loses his faith, as it were, and despair seizes him. He will never be free of his cousin and will die as her doctor has predicted.

However, a long time passes and Mrs De Ropp does not leave the shed. And as Conradin watches, he sees the polecat-ferret, its mouth bloodied, depart the shed and head for the woods. In his joy, Conradin chants a hymn of praise to Sredni Vashtar.

Tea is served and Conradin makes himself a slice of toast. There is a scream and a general commotion in the household. Conradin overhears the servants discussing who is going to tell “the boy”, while he simply makes himself another piece of toast.

Meaning

“Sredni Vashtar” is rich in meaning. A search of the internet reveals numerous commentaries on the story. In the end, commentaries aside, a story either touches you or it doesn’t. It will touch you if your experience connects with that of the main character in the story.

I think what touched me (I was 11 when I first read the story) was Conradin himself. His world was not unlike my world. A boy with an unhappy home life. Emotional abandonment, yet the exercise of cloying overprotectiveness and control. And most devastating of all, the knowledge that nothing we children did was ever good enough.

Like Conradin, my imagination was my refuge from a world that was not pleasant and one that could even be viewed as being hostile. At least for the most part.

Any piece of writing that can tap into our basic fears, joys, hopes, wishes, desires, and dreams, has the potential to be life changing or inspiring or, at the very least, memorable. Short stories, because they are short, can pack an emotional wallop much more effectively than a novel with its tens upon tens of thousands of words.

A good short story makes an impression that does not soon go away. Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”. Conrad Aikin’s “Silent Snow, Secret Snow”. Hemingway’s “The Hills like White Elephants”. Jack London’s “To Build a Fire”. O. Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi”. WW Jacob’s “The Monkey’s Paw”. Ambrose Bierce’s “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”. Algernon Blackwood’s “The Willows” and “The Man Whom the Trees Loved”. HP Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space”. And the list goes on and on.

Of all the short stories and novels I’ve read, the one I never forget, even when having a senior moment, is “Sredni Vashtar”. Now that is good storytelling.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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A Possible New Series

The Medusa Ritual (Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigations, Book 5) is available on Amazon. You can buy the book here.

Books 6, 7, and 8 in the series are written. I’m currently proofreading and line editing Book 6 and typing Book 7, doing an initial line edit while typing the handwritten manuscript.

The Pierce Mostyn series is loads of fun to write, and doing so has introduced me to the fascinating sub-genre of the occult detective.

The occult detective sub-genre has been around since the mid-1800s. Being largely a fusion of the detective story and the Gothic horror tale. It came into being as the form we recognize today through the Flaxman Low stories by E. & E. Heron. They were first published in Pearson’s Magazine in 1898 and 1899.

The most famous occult detectives are probably Thomas Carnacki, created by William Hope Hodgson, and Jules de Grandin, created by Seabury Quinn.

I very much like detective mysteries, and I very much like supernatural horror — which makes the occult detective pretty close to perfection.

For some time now, simmering on the back burner, has been a contemporary occult detective series of my own. I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but I’m getting there.

The series would be something of a companion piece for Pierce Mostyn — readers of one series crossing over and reading the other. At least I hope they will!

There will be more on this in the coming months, as I get additional details of this new fictional world established.

If you haven’t tried Pierce Mostyn, take a peek. The series is on Amazon. Mostyn won’t bite, but the monsters might!

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Pierce Mostyn in The Medusa Ritual

Pierce Mostyn, that intrepid foe of the things that go bump in the night, last appeared in Van Dyne’s Vampires, published October of last year.

Next week he will appear in a new adventure, his fifth: The Medusa Ritual.

The germ of the idea for Mostyn’s latest adventure can be found in the Hazel Heald and Lovecraft collaboration “The Man of Stone”. Collaboration, though, is a generous term; for, according to ST Joshi, Heald seems to have contributed virtually no prose to the story — based on textual evidence.

Thus, Heald probably only provided a story idea for Lovecraft to run with. Which he did, and that story then provided me with the idea for The Medusa Ritual. So thank you Hazel for that original idea!

However, while “The Man of Stone” got the wheels turning for The Medusa Ritual, there is nothing of the earlier story in the later one other than people being turned to stone.

While Van Dyne’s Vampires focused on what is essentially a mad scientist and his monsters, in Mostyn’s new adventure we return to the world of cosmic horror. That world where the terror originates from the realization that in the big picture we are completely and totally insignificant. A realization that can easily drive us to despair, madness, or self-destruction.

Nietzsche’s answer to achieving this awareness and its accompanying despair, was for the person to become a creative individual. To become as a god, in other words, for gods create; and in creating, the individual can thereby bring meaning to his or her otherwise meaningless life.

Nietzsche’s answer was essentially an existential one. We are in command of our fate. Counter the meaninglessness of existence by creating your own meaning.

Lovecraft, on the other hand, retreated into antiquarianism, and racial and cultural identity. The old days are good. The old ways are known and comfortable. My own kind are known to me. The foreigner is unknown, a mystery, and therefore suspect.

In Lovecraft’s fiction we see his philosophy play out in his vision of our world having been invaded by alien monster beings who have no regard for us. In strange, swarthy, and dark foreigners who do the bidding of these monsters. And in the insignificance of us Westerners and our science in the face of these ancient beings and their magical rituals. HPL’s conclusion is that it’s best if we don’t know too much of what is really out there, or know any of it at all.

When I come away from reading Lovecraft, I have the feeling that ignorance is bliss. In being ignorant, I can live my life in the delusion that this is a world of meaning and purpose. That I have essential meaning and purpose.

In “The Shadow over Innsmouth”, the narrator comes face to face with the horror of the curtain being pulled aside to reveal what truly is. He has looked into the abyss. In the end, when he realizes that he too will eventually join those monstrous denizens of the deep, rather than end his life, he resigns himself to his fate. For Lovecraft, once we know the truth, we either surrender to it, or go mad, or destroy ourselves. There is no Nietzschian optimism in Lovecraft.

Pierce Mostyn, knowing the truth, doesn’t go mad or destroy himself, but he is weighed down by the understanding that in the end all of his actions are futile. He resorts to duty to keep on going. Much like the ancient Roman Stoics. Duty gives him purpose and meaning in what is an otherwise meaningless and chaotic universe.

Now all of the above is a heck of a lot of philosophy. But don’t worry. It’s all in the background. The Medusa Ritual is not a philosophical treatise. It’s a tale of cosmic horror with plenty of action, adventure, monsters, and daring do. Just what we want to read. Right?

And it will be available, Amazon willing, on July 29th for your reading pleasure.

Comments are always welcome; and, until next time, happy reading!

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