Un mois français

I’m not actually on much of a French kick—I don’t even speak the language—but I realized that this month I have two titles hitting French bookstores.



36, boulevard Yalta (dig the cool cover) is the third in the series to be put out by Editions Liana Levi. They very optimistically bought all five books when The Bridge of Sighs was nominated for an Edgar years ago, and they put it out under the title Cher camarade.



Coincidentally, Cher camarade is also being released—or, re-released—this month as part of Gallimard’s “Collection Folio policier” series, which is an honor. Their list includes such luminaries as Ian Fleming, Chandler, Martina Cole and Ken Bruen—as well as a host of other people I’ve admittedly never heard of.



I can’t say my books have been doing all that well in France—one online reviewer has given my books wonderful notices, but she seems to be alone in even noticing the books. I’m told that the Gallimard release will give my books an automatic level of respectability, and perhaps give my French potential a shot in the arm.



Which I can only hope is true.

(Originally posted at the Contemporary Nomad)

More French Musique

“It was a stupid idea.”

“Why?”

“Because, dad. No one understands French.”

A clarification

I didn’t want to put this in an extra post, but I want to be sure that possible readers in the UK understand something I noted below: My third book, called The Vienna Assignment in the UK, is the exact same book as 36 Yalta Boulevard, published in the US.



Why on earth am I mentioning this?



For those who visit semi-regularly, this is like mentioning the sun rises in the morning. However, after noticing the Costa promotion mentioned below, I checked my Amazon UK rankings. Same as usual…but then I saw this:

Perfect Partner

Buy this book with 36 Yalta Boulevard by Olen Steinhauer today!

Buy Together Today: £11.98

Yalta

Free Books in the UK!

I pick up my Telegraph today and there’s a special offer - take the coupon from the paper into any Costa coffee shop and pick up a free spy book to celebrate the release of “The Good Shepherd” (De Niro’s CIA film starring Matt Damon and Angelina Jolie).  You can choose from Funeral in Berlin by Deighton, a couple of Higgins, a couple of current spy books, and The Vienna Assignment by Olen Steinhauer!

Telegraph



Funeral in Berlin

***

Note: For those of you in the US, the book in

question is better known as 36 Yalta Boulevard.

That First Chunk

Over the last couple weeks I’ve been very preoccupied with getting the first 100-page section (the Part I) of my new novel, The Tourist, into decent shape for limited distribution. By “limited distribution” I mean my US and UK editors and my new agent, Stephanie Cabot. (Sadly, my previous agent, the wonderful Matt Williams, recently retired from the business.)



With few exceptions, I never show anybody anything until I’ve reached the end of a workable draft. The reason for this is twofold. First, I generally work under some form of the auteur theory, and feel that the first draft must be entirely my own. Largely, it’s the fear that if the book becomes too diluted with various other influences, it’ll lose its power.



The second reason I keep pages close to my chest is more self-serving. I don’t want to show off lousy pages, and in the early stages there’s always something lousy about your pages. Add to that the truism that opinions (of editors, agents, etc) are usually made on first viewing, and there’s the potential for a whole crowd of disappointed readers, before you’ve had a chance to write it through and right the wrongs on your own.



But this time I’m doing it differently. Why? Fear, mostly. The fear of the unknown. For the past five years, my fictional Cold War world has been my “known”. It’s been my constant, and my protection. In its own way, it’s been “original” by definition, because while there are a lot of Cold War novels out there, few take place in the East, and none star the same cast of characters as mine.



With this new one, of course, all rules are off. Not only am I dealing more with the West, I’m coming up with fresh characters, placing them in the present (a time-period that everyone is an expert in) and attempting to make from the well-trod spy genre something that is, again, my own. Something that, in the end, will be original in a genre that’s full of the expected.



Now, this is the reason it’s taken me so damned long to get out a decent 100 pages. I’ve been working on this since I turned in the first draft of Victory Square back in early September. That’s something like 5 months of work, in which I’ve written about 400 pages, only to end up with 100 now. See how worried I am that I won’t get it right, that it might read like “a bunch of other things I read”?



I wasn’t just rewriting all that time. I was also trying out a new technique: outlining. Intense outlining. My outlines are usually no more than a page in length, and I thought I’d try an intense, 20 or so page outline, so I could get the structure right before getting into the actual text. Even now, it sounds like a good idea, but the reality is that I can’t. Others can, and they do very well, but I’ve learned I’m not wired that way. Because when I write from an outline, the story goes flat and uninteresting. It’s half as fun to write and the resulting sentences are twice as dull.



Despite the ups and downs, though, I do feel good about the novel, or else I wouldn’t have sent off the pages.



I’m sharing all this because I’m curious. Do other writers out there run early sections past their business partners like this, or do you hold them to your chest until you’re done? And—more importantly—does one method seem to have an advantage over the other? Does the cacophany of voices only serve to confuse, or does it help focus on the real problems in the draft?



I’ll find out my own answers soon enough, but as I fret over what I’ve unleashed, you might as well reinforce my fears. It’s what blogs are for.

(Originally posted at the Contemporary Nomad)

Big Love

Narratively, the story begins right in the midst of the action, as Bill and his partner are preparing to open their second store, and the viewer must put together clues to shape the past. That “14 year old on the streets” story, as well as the loan/investment Bill used to open his first store—the money came from the Prophet. The tension that follows this (the Prophet—who’s also his father-in-law via Nicki—is demanding a larger cut of the business, and isn’t taking no for an answer) leads us into the cloistered, often perverted, world of the Compound, which is diametrically opposed to the rich, and often beautiful, vision of polygamy that Bill’s family follows.

are

69

(No titters, now.)



A little while ago my US publisher forwarded me a request from Marshal Zeringue. Not only does Marshal have one of the coolest names around, he also runs a wonderful project called “The Campaign for the American Reader”…

…which has the simple goal of encouraging readers to read more books.



[…]I’m running a series on the pg 69 test—is it representative of the rest of the book? would a reader skimming that page be inclined to read on?



…The fact is, p 69 may well not be representative of the book, but the answer gives you an opportunity to say something about what your book really is about and how that page fits in or … whatever you like.

here

UK Victory

…

Ergo

Free Pulp

I just came across the news that there’s some free literature up on the web in the form of Chicago Tribune reviewer Dick Adler’s Men’s Adventure, which is being serialized over at the Rap Sheet. He’s not the first to do this, and it’s something I’ve considered doing myself at some point.



With the first chapter, we’ve already got sweet paragraphs like this one:

They had hired a boozed-out magazine writer named Jim Thompson with a couple of pulp crime novels to his credit as managing editor of Saga downstairs. Thompson lasted about six months; he eventually got fired for trying to start a union of writers and editors, and moved on to the same job on the less-demanding Police Gazette.

Just enjoy the damned thing already

The Perfect Sentence

It can be compelling, catchy or something that sums up your work, but we need one sentence to feature in the Annual. A first line is always good, but you can use any sentence you wish.

Like a simple melody line that gains chords, a variety of keys, counterpoint, and develops into a grand piece, Peter had acquired a name, a knife, money, and an apartment.  In the space of six hours he’d acquired a life.

You know, I’m told all the time that everything is political.  Man, our socialist teachers explain, is a political animal, and, in fact, the personal is the political.  But between you and me, I’ve never believed that.  The political, in fact, is really only the personal dressed up in more flamboyant clothes.  There is no political man, only men, whose politics grow from their personal traumas.

keep



should

Maybe it wasn’t the noise or the stink or the heat soaking his thin shirt that got to him; maybe it was simply that in Istanbul, the scene of his most complete failure, Peter so easily lost control of himself.

—————