The Reason I am a Lunatic

The Future of Publishing: Change

Another semester has ended—another batch of students have graduated and will move into a life that, I hope, will include writing. If not writing, then certainly reading. Reading is the ladder that leads to writing, and while not everyone will continue to write on a daily basis, all of us should read.

As any teacher will tell you, not every student in every class will end up being a published author. And the term “published” is changing before my eyes. What that will mean in five years—I don’t have a clue. It’s meant something very specific my entire writing life, but all of that is being turned upside down by the advent of e-publishing and print on demand (POD). A world I’ve known for 30 years is disintegrating as I write this. I wonder if this is what it felt like to be a monk who’d devoted his life to the beauty of illustrating manuscripts when the Guttenberg press came to town. Books went from being hand-crafted and owned only by the rich and wealthy to mass produced, which made them available to “everyman.”

A revolution with the same intensity is happening today. Writers are walking away from half-million dollar contracts with traditional (or some call them legacy) publishing deals to “self-publish” in the Wild West of e-books. This is a landscape that reminds me of the old western movies—a young upstart can make a name for himself (or herself) if he’s fast enough on the draw and has nerves of steel. For those of us who’ve been in the business for a while, this is a new and somewhat uncomfortable terrain. The gatekeeper–the publishing house–is losing control of what stories get to the reader. What happens now? Anything can be published (and trust me, it will be).

Spectacular stories of unknown e-book authors who were rejected by publishers but who made millions on their e-stories and who are now being courted by publishers are all over the Internet. Who are these 16-year-old geniuses who have written books that bring in multi-million dollar contracts? And while some big name, traditionally-published authors are jumping ship and going on the self-publish road, a few of the e-published people are snapping up big contracts with traditional publishers. It’s a topsy-turvy world and hard to keep score.

So what are the benefits of this e-publishing thing? From my standpoint, after some 60 books published the traditional way, it’s sometimes hard to sort fact from fiction. Without a doubt, the e-publishing of an author’s backlist is of tremendous benefit. This is a way to keep cherished books alive—and it allows the author to retain the rights to his books. This is vitally important to many authors I know.

I also believe books that might never be published in the “traditional” houses—not because they aren’t good stories but because they blur genre lines or include elements that aren’t part of the “traditional” configuration of a specific type of book—will find an audience. The traditional publisher doesn’t know how to promote these books, therefore they are rejected. But these books are exactly what the e-market is looking for.

One of the greatest weakness of publishing today is the failure to trust story.

The same is true in movies, TV, even reality TV. New voices (or old voices with a new type of story) find it hard to get a chance if material can come only from “vetted” foreign markets. (SHADOW OF THE WIND and GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO are two fine examples of this. These books bend genre, and they were published in the states after they were bestsellers in a European market.)

Change is always unsettling, but I do see this change as an opportunity for amazing stories to come to the public. New industries will spring up to help these e-authors promote their stories. Editing, covers, marketing, and promotion are things big publishers have traditionally provided. E-authors will have to find these services if they want to stand out from a crowded field.

One drawback I see is that when the gatekeeper is away from his post, a whole lot of really bad writing will be published and the public is going to have to sift through the chaff to get to the wheat. This can be a tiresome process. Even if the books are only .99 cents, if they are dreadful, this is going to make a lot of readers mad. It isn’t the money for me, it’s my time. I’d rather spend $25 on a great book than .99 cents on something awful.

So here’s a word of advice to those who want to self-publish. Hire a book doctor/editor. Because I teach, I read a lot of stories. Most novels fail because of a flawed structure or plot. It isn’t enough to be able to write eloquently and with passion (though those are necessary elements), a writer must do due diligence with plot and structure.

This is what the great Maxwell Perkins did for Fitzgerald and others. This is what editors at publishing houses traditionally do for their writers. If a writer decides to self-publish, spend the money on a good edit. Even the most successful writers recognize the need for a second pair of trained eyes. (Your spouse or mother does not count)/

If I had a crystal ball, I’d be able to tell you what will happen. I don’t, so I can’t. This is just the beginning of a transition that will change publishing as we know it. Like any other change, it will be hard to manage. (I am not a person who loves change. I haven’t rearranged my furniture in 20 years.) But I am excited. I see loads of potential, lots of pitfalls, and a chance for writers to have more control of their books. Welcome to the brand new world of publishing. It will be what we authors and readers make it.

The By-Gone South

This weekend I participated in a “porch reading” of a one-man play that Broadway actor Joel Vig is putting together. The subject is Eugene Walter, a Mobile writer who won the Lippincott Award at the age of 26 for his novel, The Untidy Pilgrim. Poet Sue Walker, Joel, professor John Hafner, and I read the play from the porch of the Cox-Deasy historic home on the Oakleigh Museum grounds as part of the three-state Literary Trail of events that ripple across the South each spring.

Eugene, a man I adored, once lived at the Cox-Deasy.

Joel took Eugene’s words and blended them into a short version of his play that captures Mobile in a way uniquely Eugene. “Down in Mobile they’re all crazy because the Gulf Coast is the kingdom of monkeys, the land of clowns, ghosts and musicians, and Mobile is sweet lunacy’s county seat.” This is the opening line of Eugene’s novel and Joel’s play.

Eugene would be 90 this year. He died at the age of 78. It is just now that Mobile is beginning to recognize the literary treasure that lived in the midst of the city, for Eugene was Mobile’s strongest supporter. But he was also an out-spoken critic of many things that are now proving what a wise man he was.

Our topic for the blog this time is about how the seasons affect us as writers. There can be no better example than Eugene. He lived for many years in Europe, where he worked with Fellini, wrote, painted, and cooked. He was an extraordinary chef (he has several cookbooks, including one for Time/Life on Southern cuisine) and an avid gardener. He was completely in touch with the seasons, the day-to-day workings of insects, mice, the small creatures who are part of our eco-system and who many want to eradicate but which Eugene championed.

In his musings, Eugene  talked about how the advent of air conditioning was destroying the South of his childhood. And mine. I grew up in the ‘60s, and we had a window unit to cool the kitchen for my mother to cook and for meals. Otherwise, we had an attic fan, which meant good screens on windows because we opened up the house and let the fan pull the cool night air over us.

The nights of my childhood I fell asleep to the sounds of crickets, moths batting against the screens, night birds, and the occasional slish of car tires on the paved road in front of our house. The little town of Lucedale slept with only a latch on a screened door.

Air conditioning, like television and now computers, have moved our society toward isolation. We live insular lives. Our emotional experience is achieved not through community, or at least not the community of a street or neighborhood or region, but through electronic devices that emphasize our individuality, not our commonality.

We drive in our air-conditioned cars (and god knows in the Alabama humidity, I love my a.c.).

Yet I still have one foot in the world that Eugene loved, a world that I feel slipping away so quickly. I am a farmer. The weather—the seasons—dictate my daily life. This past winter was very hard. My older horses suffered, so I did, too.  

My writing routine depends on the weather, the season. In the summers, I write in the middle of the day, when it is hot. The horses are under fans, the dogs and cats are lounging on the sofas in the a.c. (yes, they love it too!) and I am at my computer. I do my farm work early in the morning or late in the evening.

In the winter, this is reversed. I write early and late and do my farm work in the middle of the day when it is warmest. Of course, there is the 10 p.m. hot mash session for the horses when it is bitter cold.

This spring break, my friends Joe and Perry came out to the farm with heavy equipment and dump trucks filled with clay and sand to work on my erosion problems. My plans to write for the whole week I was out of school were abandoned for the necessity of doing this work while the weather was good.

It is the weather that dictates my life. It is the blessing and curse of those of us who still are linked to the land in a way that few people know today. But in a very strange way, it feeds my spirit. Without this bond, I would not be the writer I am. My senses are attuned to the natural world, and I believe that makes my characters and my settings more powerful, or at least I hope so.

Eugene said that air conditioning would be the death of the South, and he has been proven right in so many ways. The days of front porch visiting, story telling, the courtesies and manners of that era when people lived and relied on each other to survive—those have slipped from us. Now, as developers cut the trees and pave the pastures and corporate farming brings us genetically modified vegetables and the brutality of factory farming, we will lose the last things that tie us to a way of life disappearing all over the country. I do not think we will be better for it.

Big Daddy, Curious Golfers, & Downward Facing Dog

The big news in the World of Carolyn this month was about Daddy’s Girl Weekend. Dean James, in a world-class plea, won the title of Big Daddy for himself and his two aging cats. While David Sheffield entertained as Elvis and Ben LeRoy videotaped everything in the Minnesotan equivalent of a smoking jacket (flannel PJs—someone call Garrison Keeler, quick!) Dean took the prize. The deciding factor, I do believe, was Scoochie, Dixie Smith’s poodle, who chose Dean from the line-up of three candidates. Of course Ben and David put treats at Dean’s feet to lure the dog there.

As David said, “The only thing more humiliating than losing would be winning.”

With that, Dean took the dubious honor, the panama hat and cigars, home to Houston and his ailing cats, who he said lifted their little heads up when he promised to bring home the prize. As you can see, it was a blast.

I could not have asked three better, more spirited and fun candidates to vie for the title of Big Daddy.

A surprise hit was Dixie Smith, who entertained on “the porch” with stories from her youth about Alice Jackson and me. Many involved the police. I didn’t realize Dixie had the goods on me and Alice to the extent she does. If she ever decides to pen her autobiography, Alice and I are in trouble.

Alice responded with a public exhibition of Downward Facing Dog, proving yet again that though a year has passed since the DELTA BLUES launch in Clarksdale, MS, that she is just as nimble as ever. But she failed to wear a peignoir (and there were some really beautiful outfits on display!) so she was disqualified from the peignoir competition.

Videos of all the events, thanks to Priya, who worked her fingers to the bone, are available on my website, my Facebook, Fan Page, and My YouTube. Without Priya, there would be little documentation of what went on. I do believe she is accepting checks for the “low down” on everyone there. She knows all!

Seriously, it was one huge fun event. From all the things I heard, everyone learned a lot from the panelists: Dean, David, Ben, agent Marian Young, bookseller McKenna Jordan. I even rattled on a bit.

And what was really fun was that readers were there. I learned a whole lot listening to readers talk about why they love certain characters, what they read for, what turns them on and turns them off. It was such an exchange of information that—We’re going to do it again next year!

After conferring with several wise people, we are concerned that Gulf Hills Resort may not be big enough to hold us next year. So we are opening the door to suggestions. We need a place where we can party (Gulf Hills was perfect! We had the Carlisle House for our parties, and folks only had to walk across the parking lot in their peignoirs. I am sure a few golfers were wondering what in the heck was happening outside!) so we need a sort of special place.

Now that the DG Weekend report is done, let me turn to other things. The Natchez,  MS book launch is looking good. Mark your calendars and book your B&B or the Eola Hotel if you want to come. June 25. The signing (and the wonderful Big Daddy himself, Dean James, will also be there signing his brand new book!) will be from 5-8 p.m., June 25, at Turning Pages Book Store.

We’re going to have an “open mic” night for ghost stories. So bring a ghost story. And after the signing, we’ll have a bus to take us for a ghost tour of Natchez. Our special guest will be DeWitt Lobrano, a man with some very special talents.
More on this as we firm up details.

Contest news!  If you enjoy reading my Sarah Booth Delaney series, you’ll be pleased to know the prizes of April’s Freebie-of-the-Month contest are two Advance Reader’s Copies of BONES OF A FEATHER.  Enter the contest by clicking here:  Freebie-of-the-Month Contest.  And congratulations to Nancy Measles and Angela Evans for winning March’s contest.

If you’re on Twitter, follow me by clicking on:  DeltaGalCarolyn.   I’ll have more give-aways there.

On the animal front, it’s been a little rough. My friend, Stephanie, who designed my logo and does such excellent graphic art work, lost her wonderful horse, Nugget. He was a gorgeous palomino and he came down with an illness last Spring that a dozen vets and the vet school at Auburn couldn’t pin down. It was genuinely heartbreaking, and they tried everything to save him.

And my niece, Jennifer, who does the Lab4Rescue, lost her horse, Starlight, in a case of acute colic. This is something every horse owner fears. One minute they’re fine, the next they’re in gastric distress, and it can occur over a drop in the barometric pressure, stress, digestive upset, pain, a change in the grass—almost anything. Horses appear to be massive and indestructible, but they are so very fragile. Sometimes colic can be treated successfully, and sometimes there is simply nothing that can save them.

Send a good thought for Stephanie and Jennifer. This is a hard, hard thing.

Miss Scrapiron has given me a few bad scares. The vet tells me her heart is beginning to fail. I hardly know how I’ll manage this, but she will have the most love and best care possible.  And lord knows, no one ever believed she’d live to be 34 (on my birthday, May 12). So she may kick butt for another five years!

On a much happier note, I wish you all a wonderful Spring. The zinnia seeds Pam sent me are coming up and soon I will have flowers to photograph. The cycle begins again.

Why Writers Need Conference Time

I’ve just returned from Love Is Murder, the Chicago conference that is more fun than the law allows. The driving force behind the conference is Hanley Kanar, Mary Welk, and Luisa Bueler–three ladies with a lot of spirit.  There’s just something about the “can do” attitude of the Chicago delegation (and there are lots of volunteers who put this conference on) that makes it a success. While the serious business of writing and the publishing industry are given their due, there is also some foolishness and a bit of irreverence, and that makes the conference unique.

This was my second go round at Love is Murder. I think I am their token Southerner. Fine by me. I know I am the only attendee who begs for a snowball fight—and gets one. If you are on facebook, check out the impressive snow photos that we took this year. Ben LeRoy, the publisher of Tyrus Books, actually climbed up the snow bank and pelted us with snowballs. Ah, youth!

I thought the “worst blizzard since 1967” would cancel the conference, but the sun came out and the conference was on. With hot coffee and libations to warm the cockles of my black little heart, I was snug and content.

While I spent most of my time on panels and giving a master class, I found time to socialize with other writers, agents, publishers, publicity gals, and readers. I’d forgotten how refreshing it is to reconnect with those afflicted by the same illness—the love of writing and reading.

Although I’d interviewed Jon Land for the Thrillerfest website, I’d never met him. What a charming, generous man! And I’d served as a judge on a panel for best thriller with Joseph Finder, but I’d never met him either. It was fun to listen to him talk about writing. And both Jon and Joe had great stories about Hollywood. They knew how to spin a funny story.

Rhys Bowen was as elegant as I’d been told, and Joan Johnston was quick with a comeback when Joe Konrath teased us all at the Saturday night finale of “Stump the Stars.” Joe read passages from novels and we had to guess if we’d written them or not.  Needless to say, it was pretty funny.

One of the best things about the conference was sharing my love of writing with others.  When working, which must be done alone, there is often a sense of isolation. It is at writers’ gatherings that the passion for writing and reading is shared, found, and rediscovered in others. I’m sure it’s similar to any gathering of people interested in the same topic, but it is heady stuff.

There is also a chance for some good old-fashioned fun. Stories were told, anecdotes shared, old jokes revived, dreams ignited, and new conclusions drawn. And then there was the snowball fight. These Chicagoans, sick of snow, went back outside and got pelted and plastered because this Mississippi/Alabama gal never gets to play in the snow.

That’s one of the things I’ll never forget.

The need to create fun is one of the reasons I want to do the Daddy’s Girl Weekend. Think about it–a night of campaigning for Big Daddy and a dress code of peignoirs and smoking jackets—it’s silly fun. Yes, there will be writing business and readers’ panels, but also shopping and just craziness. There is too little fun in our lives. We’ve forgotten how to connect with that part of ourselves that can’t resist a snowball fight or a chance to wear something outrageous—just for the fun of it.

Shake off the shackles of being an adult and simply misbehave, because it’s the right thing to do.

This is what the best writers’ conferences achieve: a level of education and focus on matters of writing and publishing, but also fun. I salute the hard work that went into Love Is Murder, and I applaud the spirit of fun that turned out a few brave souls for a snowball fight in a 20-foot drift.

We need more fun in our lives—and I think it’s high time we demand it.

Food Poisoning & Snowballs & New Shirts

Dear Friends and Readers,

The first newsletter of the new year! Ain’t it funny how time slips away (ah, Willie, you could always sing it). Classes have started, and I have another group of talented students to teach. For those who have never taught, I never anticipated the energy level that teaching requires. There is much hard work, but also much pleasure in seeing someone catch hold of writing elements and just take off.

Over the Christmas holidays, I had food poisoning and so much work to do that I thought I might never see daylight again. Being sick threw me off schedule. Another reminder that I should be thankful each day for my cast iron gut that normally doesn’t give me any trouble.

I have ordered new T-shirts, which IS NOW available in my online store.  Remember, 100% of all proceeds are accepted as donations to the Good Fortune Farm Refuge.

Sarah Bewley has prepared the Official Flyer for Daddy’s Girl weekend which explains what to expect. Let me say once again that while there will be writers and agents and publishers there, you don’t have to be a writer to attend and have fun. We’ll have readers and lots of time to talk about books and characters and the things we love.  Click on this Official Flyer to get the whole scoop!

I’ve got to get on the stick and start planning the Natchez launch.  Another fun outing. I think as I’ve aged, I realize that most of us just work and work and work. Sometimes, we need a weekend to explore different places and ideas and laugh! Goodness, we really need more laughter.

I would like to invite all of you to my Facebook Fan Page. This won’t affect my regular Facebook Page, but the fan page will make some things easier. So if you’re a Facebook person, come on over and “like” me.

I’ll be heading for Chicago in a few days. The Love Is Murder conference is Feb. 4-6, so I’ll be yakking and teaching and laughing in the Windy City. I attended LIM three years ago and had a blast even though my luggage was lost and there was a snowstorm. Mary Welk, one of the organizers, and I tried to find my luggage in the huge baggage area and explored the bowels of O’Hare airport. We did not succeed, but we had a lot of laughs.

Last visit to LIM we had a great snowball fight, and if there’s snow on the ground, I’ll get some photos for you. Some of you have plenty of snow, but us Deep South gals don’t often get to play in it.

Alice is also going to New York. We will weigh our luggage and once again, I will win with the lightest bag. Alice has many, many electronic devices. I fear to ask what all they can do. And I’m sure she’ll have to pack her favorite steam iron.

Miss Scrapiron is having a tough winter, which makes it tough for me. Marla the foster lab leaves Friday for her new home in Pennsylvania. It makes me sad to see her go, but she has a wonderful new home. Everyone else is hanging tough through the bleak mid-winter. (I’m trying to teach Kinky the cat to type, but she defies all forms of instruction!)

Until next month!

Love,

Carolyn

Mississippi on my Mind

While I normally blog about writing or books or authors, I thought today I’d focus on a place I love. I had occasion to drive along the Mississippi Gulf Coast last week to attend a book club meeting in Long Beach. It’s a gathering of fun, smart women and I’d attended a meeting in the past, so I was eager to meet up again. This time they were reading PENUMBRA, a book set in 1952 Mississippi about 50 miles inland from the coast.

It had been a long time since I’d driven along Highway 90 on the coast, so I decided on that route. The landscape opened the door on the past, and I found myself wondering about the randomness of birth and life and the choices that lead us to the place we are today.

I grew up in Lucedale in George County. It’s one of the poorest counties in a state that consistently ranks close to the bottom on average household income, education and most everything else. George County was—and still is—a dry county. Churches, almost all protestant in the varying denominations of Baptist and Pentecostal with a few Methodists thrown in–can be found in abundance along any rural road.

The Gulf Coast, only an hour away, was an exotic paradise with nightclubs, liquor, fishermen who gambled on the weather just like the farmers in my home area, and all sorts of entertainment. There were movie theatres, bowling alleys, putt-putt golf. Things that George County didn’t have—and still doesn’t.

When I was in my twenties, I moved to Ocean Springs, another small town, but one with a very different outlook on life. It was the coast. The attitudes were just different. Giant oaks canopied the main street in town—and still do. I loved living there. But a job took me elsewhere, and I left the coast in 1982.

Jump ahead some twenty years, and one late August morning Hurricane Katrina skips into the Gulf of Mexico and begins to grow. I remember clearly the weekend before the storm hit. I was working on a project with my friend Alice Jackson. We were laughing and she said she should probably head back to Ocean Springs and get ready for the storm.

We all take hurricanes seriously—Camille taught us well. Windows are boarded, important paperwork is put in a high, dry, secure place. Extra precautions for pets are made. I have horses, so there is no evacuating for me. But we hunkered down and waited for the storm to pick a path and get on with it.

Little did we know that within two days, life would be changed forever.

Alice lost her home, her mother’s home, and her brother’s home. They were “slabbed” as the term now goes. My brother’s business in Biloxi was gravely injured. Even as far away as west Mobile County in Alabama, I lost the roof off two barns, the house, and about forty old cedar and fruit trees. The devastation was incredible.

While the Gulf Coast was off-limits to spectators, I went over to help Alice cut a tree off the house she was staying in,  and the devastation was stunning.

Highway 90 was washed away in some places. The floating casinos were beached inland, often on top of other buildings. The tidal surge was so strong and high that the land was changed forever. Old homes that had survived decades of bad storms were splintered. The rubble looked like a gazillion matchsticks with hunks of concrete and dead trees. The bridges over the Bay of Biloxi and The Bay of St. Louis were simply gone. Destruction moved through the area from Louisiana all the way to Point Clear in Alabama, not to mention the flooding of the South’s greatest city, New Orleans.

Last week, as I drove along the repaired Highway 90 to the book club, I was amazed at the progress. New homes, business reopened, cars moving briskly. The casinos are up and going, as are restaurants and groceries—things that were unavailable for a long, long time.

But piles of debris—the remains of a concrete foundation, splinters of wood—are still in evidence. The empty lots tell a sad story. And the trees, the beautiful oaks that were so much a part of the drive along the Gulf Coast, still show signs of the battering of wind and salt water. The communities have truly worked hard to save these landmarks, and many did survive. Some that didn’t have been carved by local artists into incredible works of art.

But what is back in full force is the spirit of the people. There is no complaining, no clinging to the past, as I am wont to do. Loss is part of life, and rebuilding is the challenge of living. I’m proud to say that the Mississippians have met and are meeting that challenge everyday.

The most recent oil spill has been a terrible blow, and the environmental and health cost of that nightmare hasn’t been calculated. I can only hope that BP is held accountable in truly meaningful ways. These coastal residents have a deep love for their communities, and they will fight for them.

As for me, I wonder who I might have become had I been born here instead of there. Would I have still grown up to be the horse and animal obsessed person I am—or would I have a boat and be a passionate fisherman? It isn’t a question that needs an answer, but it is certainly one I’ll consider when I create new characters. I believe characters grow from the soil in which they live—just like real people.

The Morphing Novel, The Dangers of a Label, & What a Reader Brings to the Story

How does a writer like myself fit into an academic world? How does Literature with a capital “L” fit into the picture of the publishing world I know?  These are the questions swirling in my mind right now, as I prepare to give the USA English Department fall lecture.  I’m deeply examining what writing means to me.

My questions come without easy answers, because there is a historic divide between popular fiction and what some call literary fiction. I don’t have the answer to bridge this divide, but I find myself caught on first one side and then the other.
The novel, as it stands today, has morphed many times. All types of fiction for all types of readers can be found in any good bookstore. The problem comes with labeling—what is a mystery, what is a thriller, what is a crime novel, what is a romance? How are these labels applied? In my opinion, this is more of a marketing decision than a writing issue. But that label can make or break a book. Or a writer. Or a career.
For example, I wrote a book about my brother and friends—a sort of homage to their craziness and my own literary license. I called it SHOP TALK (under my pen name Lizzie Hart) because it takes place in the back of a TV repair shop on Pass Road in Biloxi. (My brother owns such a shop). But when the book came out, it was sometimes shelved in the How-To section. Like a manual about building things. Though it was clearly labeled a novel, it was shelved in the wrong place more than once. This wasn’t a make or break matter for me, because the book was mostly for fun. But this kind of mistake can be deadly at the wrong moment in time.
To me, what you label a book is not the important thing. What I’ve come to realize is that what sells in publishing today is story. That doesn’t preclude style and good writing, but what is really important is a forward moving story. If it’s told with expertise, so much the better. A few contemporary writers who I feel demonstrate this wonderful blend of art and commerce are James Lee Burke, Barbara Kingsolver, and Tana French. Powerful storytellers, they never let language clog up the storyline, yet I can read a sentence and know I’ve got my hands on this particular author’s work. Their voice and style are distinctive.
But what about the great writers of the past? Shakespeare and Dickens were plot demons. If you want a lesson in plotting, take a look at their work. The dense language, popular at the time, is a bit of a drawback for some readers, but the bottom line is drama, action, emotion, suspense—all of the tools of today’s writer—were wielded with great skill. Stylistically there are many differences.
Today’s readers grow impatient with the pace, the head-hopping, the mountain of detail. Reading styles have indeed changed. These days, the reader is accustomed to quicker rewards, more focused details, and a clean point of view that makes it easy to follow. This does not mean readers are lazy or writers are selling out to an audience that doesn’t care enough to “work for” the story.
The concept of what the reader brings to the story is something I think about a whole lot. I devour books that require me to participate, to think, to bring something to the table. I savor books that are well written, so that when I dip back into them for the second read, I can admire the turn of a phrase or a metaphor or a plot twist. I feel at home with crime novels and mysteries, which is where I find all of these things.

Popular fiction is not less than. It is not necessarily different than “literary” fiction. This need to keep the two worlds separate serves no one that I can see—not the reader or the writer.
I would like to see more contemporary writers taught in universities. While I think it is important to read the classics—and for would-be writers to understand the transformations the novel has gone through to become the vibrant work that it is today. Our idea of what makes good writing and literature changes all the time. Many of the writers we hold as “Literary” icons were popular writers of their day.
What we need to focus on is creating readers who can judge a book by its merits, not because they’ve been told it’s good or worthy. These critical skills that English departments across the nation are meant to foster is the key to an educated reading public. One that won’t judge a book by its cover—or by the label on the spine, but by the story and writing inside.

Big Daddy, Steam Irons, & a Fab Contest!

Lot’s of things shaking at Casa Carolyn. We are surviving the horrid, humid, hot summer (how’s that for alliteration?). There is a hint of fall early in the morning just as dawn breaks, but it is mighty slow in coming. I am ready for cool weather, but please, weather gods, no winter like the last. Miss Scrapiron and I had a rough time.

School started this week at the University of South Alabama. New students, returning students—another busy year looms.

BONES OF A FEATHER is on the way to Kelley at St. Martin’s. I hope she loves it! And I’m halfway through my Southern gothic chiller. I hope to finish by Christmas and see what I’ve created.

I want to thank all of you who trusted my recommendation and bought Miranda James’s book MURDER PAST DUE. The book hit the NYT extended list at #26. I am so proud I could pop! This is a major big event in a writer’s career, and Dean (Miranda is a pen name) has worked very hard for many years. Thank you.  Jeannie’s book is also doing well. Several of you have written to tell me you enjoyed reading BLOOD LAW. I’m proud of Jeannie, too.

Now for some exciting things. My little factory in Zinnia has cranked out a couple of items.  I want to give them away in a contest.  And since I once forced my critters to give book reviews (through manipulative lip synching!) in this video I posted a while back, I just knew I had to explore this route again.  But THIS time, I want YOU to post a self-made book review of BONE APPETIT in the form of a video clip (if you’ve read it, of course).

I figure since a lot of cell phones (and digital cameras) have camcorder capabilities, it would be the perfect contest. You can be creative and fun and use puppets, pets, foreign accents, etc.  Or you can post a candid review!

Your choice.  Then I want you to e-mail it to: SarahBoothDelaney@yahoo.com

The top two entries will get the prizes! If you’re on Facebook, click on this direct contest link.

Really big excitement—the dates for the first annual Daddy’s Girl Weekend are set for March 11-13 at the Gulf Hills Resort in Ocean Springs.  Sarah Bewley, who organized the highly successful Writing the Region seminars in Gainesville, Florida, is in charge of this event. Our plans are to have two tracks—writing and reading. So there will be some writing classes for those of you who are interested in that. And some sessions will focus on readers and the books they love.

And there will be much mischief! We are going to have a competition for Big Daddy! Already I am lining up the candidates who will do whatever is necessary to win your vote for Big Daddy. We’ll announce the candidates later, and as we get the schedule firmed up, we’ll post it on my website and other places.

Gulf Hills (I used to live near it) is a small, cozy resort, so this will be very intimate. And we already have our Guest of Honor from Germany, Carmen, lined up to attend. We haven’t even started and we’re already an international event!

Thank you all for the tremendous support you give me. You inspire me to think up crazy events like Daddy’s Girl Weekend. I know it’s nutty, but what could be more fun than writers, books, readers and…well, more about that later.

My book signings have gone very well. Alice Jackson, who has a story in DELTA BLUES, did a lot of traveling with me, and we had fun tormenting each other across the state of Mississippi. One thing I learned from Alice: If something crosses your path and you can’t eat it—then damn well iron it! That woman is a demon with a steam iron!

Thank you again for your support of Good Fortune Farm Refuge.  Remember you’re free to post any stray animals you rescue. It’s very hard to find loving homes for so many animals, so if you have any space, I urge you to take in a dog or cat.

And get your pets neutered. So many of us have more “things” than we could ever need, so consider giving the gift of a spay or neuter to family and friends or as a donation in someone’s name. It’s a great thing to do and prevents untold suffering. I’m trying to get some grants for neutering companion dogs. It’s a slow process because I have to work on it when I can find the time. But I’m inching forward!

Later — and do enter the video contest!

Love,

Carolyn



Summertime, Book Touring, and The Nester

The heat of summer has set in and I am miserable, as are the horses. The dogs and cats—who do not have to leave the air conditioning except for brief jaunts outside or to the truck for a ride—are doing fine.

M&M’s latest wound is healing nicely. It was surely a mess and not a pleasant thing to find when I returned from the Delta. But it looks a little better everyday.

I want to thank all of you for the wonderful support you’ve given me and my books. BONE APPETIT and DELTA BLUES are both showing solid, growing sales. This is wonderful, and I thank you.

I have additional book signings scheduled. Most of them are in my area, but I am venturing to West Point, MS, to talk at the Bryan Public Library on Aug. 12. I originally had a luncheon talk scheduled there in July, but I had to change it around to do the Viking Cooking School luncheon. The library folk in West Point are totally wonderful.

So while I’m in that neck of the woods, I’ll sign in Starkville and Oxford.  I’ll be traveling with Alice Jackson, who is also signing DELTA BLUES. Please keep your wallets ready in case I have to call and ask someone to post bail for us. Alice draws trouble like a corpse draws flies. And don’t believe her when she tries to blame me.

A lot of people have written asking about the next book and audio rights. Good news on those fronts. BONES OF A FEATHER (I’m pretty sure that will be the title) is almost done. I have one last edit to make. I know it seems like a long wait until June 2011, but you can count on that for next summer. And the last three Bones books will be taped by Recorded Books with the same wonderful actress, Kate Forbes, reading.  I’d really love to get them to go back and pick up THEM BONES and BURIED BONES, and maybe they will.

It’s almost time for school to start again—that’s both fun and a whole lot of work. I have some terrifically talented students. One of them, Jeannie Holmes, debuted with her urban fantasy novel, BLOOD LAW, just a few weeks ago. Vampires in Mississippi. Jeannie is from the Brookhaven area, so she knows what she’s writing about.

And another friend of mine, Dean James, writing as Miranda James, will debut with his new novel, MURDER PAST DUE, a cozy mystery with a librarian as a sleuth. It’s a “cat in the stacks’ mystery, and I am really looking forward to it. Dean is a native Mississippian who now lives in Houston, TX, and works by day as a librarian. When I first published and went to Murder by the Book in Houston to sign, Dean was manager of the bookstore. He has been a generous friend to a lot of writers for many, many years and he’s a great writer himself. I highly recommend both Jeannie and Dean.

I know many of you supported the DELTA BLUES short story collection, and just to keep you up to speed, I have a short story in FLORIDA HEAT WAVE, which will be released next month by Tyrus Books.

And I have a short story coming out in the fall (I just love this—it’s geezer noir!) in DAMN NEAR DEAD 2 by Busted Flush Press, which is operated by David Thompson at Murder by the Book. David and his wife McKenna have also been huge supporters of my career and the geezer noir collections are just too much fun.

As July closes out, I am so thankful we haven’t been blasted by a hurricane this year. Katrina changed my perception of “storm season.” BK (Before Katrina), there was always a niggling worry that something could blow in out of the Gulf. Now, though, as August approaches, I can almost taste the dread. Those of us with livestock are helpless. There’s no way to really protect a horse. So we wait…and hope.

I’m working on a little surprise for you guys—a chiller. Sort of a blend of Southern gothic with a pinch of horror. If it works out and I sell it, maybe I can have a little something chilling for winter 2011. I’ll keep you posted.