What's wrong with Times New Roman?

In a discussion I follow about self-publishing and book design, a knowledgeable participant wrote: "But whatever you do, DON'T EVER set a book in Times New Roman or a comic font. . . ."

What's wrong with Times New Roman? She cited three reasons: "First, it's a narrow font, designed to make newspaper columns work better. On the wider page of a book, with the longer line length? It makes your eyes get tired faster." Second, "it makes your book look subtly 'wrong' to those who are less clued-in." Third, "MS Word uses it as a default font, and beginners always use it, because they're used to it. It's acceptable for basic word-processing documents, but not for books. Using it labels you as not well-informed, leading those who can do your book a lot of good (or not) to put the book on the 'ignore' pile."

Ouch. My three novels are set in Times New Roman. Not much I can do about the first two, but I could still change Death in a Family Business type, so I experimented. Here are the results:

 

While the Goudy and Baskerville faces are somewhat more open than Times New Roman, they do not seem different enough to make the effort to change the entire book. 

Bookman, however, is both more open and more readable and if I were starting from scratch I would use it. Unfortunately because it is more open it adds space, and I calculated that it would add enough pages to the existing text file that the cover's spine would no longer fit. I'd have to return to my jacket designer to have it adjusted, which I believe is more expense and trouble than the change is worth. 

Nevertheless, this is one more reason why anyone who plans to publish independently needs solid professional counsel.

The challenges of writing a plausible mystery

This is the week I should learn whether Kindle Press will be publishing my mystery, Death in a Family Business. I have billed the book as "A Tommy Lovell Mystery," intending to continue Tommy's adventures. During the past month, I've been distracted by the Kindle Scout competition and lining up reviewers for the trade paperback edition of the book rather than beginning a new book.

After all, by creating Death in a Family Business I created Tommy Lovell, his father, and two potential love interests. I gave Tommy a back story—dropped out of college, married his college sweetheart and started a restaurant with her, lost the restaurant and the marriage—and I set him in a place and a milieu with which I am comfortable. The challenge is to invent another plausible murder mystery in which Tommy can be enmeshed.

First problem: Who is the murderer and what is his or her motivation? What drove him to kill another human being? Was it deliberate, a spur-of-the moment act, or an accident? In the mysteries I prefer and would prefer to write, the reader can understand and even, possibly, sympathize with the killer.

Second problem: Why are the police baffled? 

Third problem: What can Tommy do that the police cannot? He's not a cop or a detective, so he's limited in what he can reasonably investigate, even by what the police will tell him about an ongoing investigation.

I think I have solutions to some of these challenges, but not all. I suspect that once I know whether Kindle Press is publishing my book, I'll be able to focus on Tommy Lovell's next adventure.

Hot and trending again! What fun!

This morning I posted another request that people nominate Death in a Family Business for the Kindle Press program on LinkedIn where, to my surprise, I am linked to something like 270 people. Some of the must have responded because a minute ago, I was "Hot and Trending," and the book's cover was one of the first site visitors see.

If somehow you haven't been to the site or been able to nominate my book, here's a link to the site:

https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/21DVR6I44MV2K

Kindle Scout asks people who nominate a book to sign in to Amazon, a way I suspect to keep authors from stuffing the ballot box.

For those who have nominated my book, many thanks. For those who haven't (and have an Amazon account), I will be eternally grateful if you do.

Donna Leon's non-fiction about Venice

Many of us thoroughly enjoy Donna Leon's mysteries set in Venice and featuring Commissario Guida Brunetti. I've always thought Brunetti was an interesting detective because he's convincing as an Italian man (Leon is an American woman, a New Jersey girl), as a happily-married family man, and as a cop in a milieu very different from Harry Bosch's or Matthew Scudder's. Leon has lived in Venice for thirty years and My Venice and Other Essays is just what the title says it is.

Most of these non-fiction pieces are short, no more than three or four pages. Because they are not dated nor does the book contain any indication where they may have been published previously, they read almost like Leon's private musings about incidents or occasions to vent some spleen or make a point.

The sixteen Venice essays take about fifty pages of the 222-page book. Leon groups the others into five headings: "On Music," "On Mankind and Animals," "On Men," "On America," and "On Books." All the pieces are clear and lively. One might disagree with Leon's opinion, but it's evident what she thinks when, for example, she calls Tosca "a vulgar potboiler I wouldn't today cross the street to hear." (She's a rabid Handel opera fan.)

She can be very funny. One of the Venice essays, "Shit," describes a nuisance with Venetians and their dogs. A woman permitted her tiny white Matlese to empty his bowels directly in front of a man's front door as he happened to be standing in the window drinking his coffee. The dog finished his business, the man came out his door, the woman approached. "Excuse me, Signora, is this your dog?"

Leon writes: "She threw up her hands in offended innocence and said, 'no, of course not.' The man smiled, called to the dog in a gentle voice, and when it came, he picked it up and delicately turned it upside down, then used the fur of its back to brush up the shit. Just as carefully, he set the dog back on its fee, said a polite 'Buon giorno' to the woman and walked away."

As someone who has just written a mystery, I was particularly interested in Leon's penultimate essay, "Suggestions on Writing the Crime Novel," one of the longest in the book. It is worth the price of the book. She begins by pointing out that "the defining element between the good and the great is some inborn genius that is either present or not. Without it, painters or tennis players can be good; with it, they will be great. I see no reason why this should be any different in the world of words, though I realize how uncomfortable the idea makes most people."

Having thereby cleared the ground somewhat, she discusses several practical aspects in writing a novel: point of view; the knowledge, information, and reference of the narrator; the level of the prose; the narrator's ethical standards; the central crime; the novel's scope; and "the reader's feelings toward you as a writer, and toward your characters. The reader has got to feel sympathy for someone in the book." Without feeling sympathy for the victim or the detective or the criminal or someone, why waste a precious few hours reading the book?

Fortunately, while not all the pieces are equally engaging (but then how could they be?), My Venice and Other Essays is a way to spend a few precious hours with a fascinating and stimulating woman.

The authors swap shop talk and meet prospective readers at Avon's Local Author Festival

With a number of other Connecticut writers, I was selected to participate in the Avon public library's Local Author Festival and spent three hours yesterday afternoon in the Author's Tent, meeting and chatting with people who came through the very busy Monday farmer's market in the library's parking lot.

I shared the tent with Patrick Scalisi, another local author I was meeting for the first time. We swapped writer talk—one of the benefits in participating in such an event. He is both dedicated to his writing (he writes for an hour before he goes to work every morning) and is aggressively building his career as a writer. For example, he has been giving talks about writing and publishing in libraries, building a mailing list, and selling books at the ends of those events. I was impressed.

Patrick Scalisi and I, ready to talk up our books at Avon's Local Author Festival

We did not talk much about our writing except to the people who stopped by to chat. Rather, we talked about the challenges of building a career, getting published, independent publishers versus self-publishing or commercial publishers, and promotion and publicity.

Another benefit of participating in something like a Local Author Festival is the opportunity to talk with people, readers and otherwise, about books, about reading, and, of course, about one's own work. This is a situation where the author needs a polished elevator speech, the two-minute (or shorter) description of a book that can engage the prospective reader's interest.

I do not believe you can "sell" a book. If a person does not read mysteries, nothing I can say about Death in a Family Business is going to persuade her to buy it. On the other hand, if someone is interested in a beach read, I can give a precis of The Girl in the Photo and, as it happened, sell the book. Patrick found readers interested in The Horse Thieves, and Other Tales of the New West. All in all, I found it a rewarding experience.

Collar Robber: A fast-moving, entertaining mystery

According to Hillary Belle Locke's bio, she graduated with honors from Harvard Law School, worked for a prominent New York law firm, and now practices law in a city far from New York. This background is reflected in her new mystery, Collar Robber and in one of the two protagonists, Cynthia Jakubek who has quit a Wall Street law firm to set up her independent practice in Pittsburgh where her key client wants an annulment so he can marry his true love in the Catholic Church.

Collar Robber's other protagonist is Jay Davidovich, a strapping, six-foot former MP who now works as a Loss Prevention Specialist for a global insurance company. The plot revolves about a scam involving a modern painting worth $50 million—a loss worth preventing.

Locke has published two other mysteries, one starring Jakubek, one starring Davidovich. I suspect that writing those books taught Locke some of the tricks she uses to make Collar Robber so satisfying. It was an inspired decision to put them in the same book. Because their backgrounds, attitudes, experiences, and gender are different (and convincing), and because they are involved with different players in the scam, Locke is able to create scenes and situations she could not have done as easily—or at all—from the point of view of only Jakubek or Davidovich.

Aside from satisfaction of working out the complexities of the case—who's the bad guy? who's innocent? what's this guy's involvement?—I thoroughly enjoyed Locke's writing. Here's Davidovich sitting with his pregnant wife in the OB/GYN waiting room "like some regular guy who worked in an office and didn't encounter thugs and Tasers on the job. What would it be like, having a real office job? Ten-fifteen, time to grab some more coffee! Ooh, quarterly budget report due in three days—pressure-city, baby! No whiffs of electrically burned human flesh. No wondering whether I'd get iced before the tyke in Rachel's womb had his first Little League game or her first Suzuki recital."

Here's Jakubek on her way into court: "I was shouldering my way through a throng of drunks, wife-beaters, hookers, street-hustlers, first-offense (sure) shoplifters, and bar brawlers in the hallway outside Branch 2 of the City of Pittsburgh Municipal Court. I got the 'important' part [of Davidovich's message], but it wasn't as important to me as stalking a client, which is what had brought me to this Hogarthian hallway."

If I have any quibble at all (and what would a review be without a quibble?), I had some trouble keeping straight the names of all the players scattered through the text: Dany Nesselrode, Will Szulz, Proxeine Violet Shifcos, Grace Stannard Dalhousie, Jennifer Stannard Huggens, Sean McGeoghan (pronounced "McGuffin," an unfortunate choice if it makes the reader think of Alfred Hitchcock), Abigail Northanger, Alma von Leuthen, Andy Schuetz, Dan Quindel, Avrim Halkani, and more.

Nevertheless, the writing is so much fun the reader (this reader) is willing to make the effort to follow along. A paragraph like this makes up for a lot: "As he glanced to his left I thought Tally couldn't have looked more astonished if he'd seen ET peddling toward the sky on his bicycle. Couldn't blame him. Clarence Washington, in all of his tiny wispiness, five-feet-nothing and a hundred-twenty pounds soaking wet, was charging forward like a chihuahua with designs on raping a St. Bernard."

I'm not going to tell you what a Collar Robber is because it's key to the mystery. But if you want a fast-moving, entertaining novel starring two interesting characters, read the book to find out.

The Kindle Scout route for writers

Last October, Amazon introduced the Kindle Scout program, a "reader-powered" site for never-before-published books. The site says, "It's a place where readers help decide if a book receives a publishing contract." For writers, it works like this:

You submit your manuscript to Kindle Scout and accept the Submissions & Publishing Agreement. The work has to be complete—edited, copy-edited, with a title and cover image.

You write a one-liner of 45 or fewer characters. Mine is, "Dirty secrets turn deadly in a small town." You write a longer book description of 500 or fewer characters. For example, "It’s 1986, and Tommy Lovell’s dream restaurant has failed, taking his marriage with it. When a family friend asks for help saving his struggling store in a dying Massachusetts town, Tommy tags along with his dad, hoping for a bit of romance and a chance to fly his father’s Cessna. The friend’s midnight motorcycle ride ends in tragedy when he skids off the road. Accident? As father and son uncover theft and deception in the victim’s business, their suspicions put them in unexpected danger."

You submit a photo of yourself, write a short bio, and answer up to three questions like "What is the inspiration for the story?" "Is there a message in your book that you want readers to grasp?" "Where can readers find out more about you?" The site supplies the questions.

And you provide social links to let readers know where they can learn more about you.

Once the Kindle staff has vetted your submission and you push the button, Kindle posts about 5,000 words and all the marketing material you've submitted. Over the next 30 days, readers (including as many friends and relatives as you can enlist) can nominate your book. At the end of the 30 days, "The Kindle Scout team makes the final call on which books are published by Kindle Press."

Why only 30 days? "We believe that authors should find out quickly if their book will be published through Kindle Press. We think 30 days is enough time for readers to scout new books but short enough so that authors aren't left waiting." Everyone who nominates your book receives a free copy if Kindle does publish it. So what's in it for writers?

Kindle Press authors receive a $1,500 advance and a 50% eBook royalty rate based on the retail price, which Kindle sets. It pays royalties monthly. While Kindle Press acquired worldwide publication rights for eBook and audio formats in all languages, authors retain all other rights—including print rights.

Because the program became active only early this year, there has not been much written about it. Victoria Strauss has a blog post with interesting comments. Katy Waldman wrote a column in Slate dissing one of the first Kindle Scout books, with the implication that quality is going to be an issue for the program. And Neal Wooten has written about his experience.

I am going to try it with my new novel, Death in a Family Business. From what I've been able to learn, the worst that can happen is nothing. The best, of course, is that Kindle Press picks up the book, publicizes it, and readers embrace it. I'll let you know what happens.

Pre-teen boys hide out in a Boston reform school

Aiden Sullivan and Charles Wheeler are 11 and 12 years old in Boston in 1889. Aiden, nominally Catholic, nominally Irish, has no father and a consumptive, dying mother. Charles, an orphan who has already done time for stealing a sandwich, is living by his considerable wits on the streets. They connect early and plausibly in Connie Hertzberg Mayo's fascinating new novel, The Island of Worthy Boys.

Mayo shows the boys' daily scramble to make enough money for food and, in Aiden's case, for rent to keep a tenament roof over his mother and little sister. Desperation finally pushes the boys into rolling drunken sailors on the waterfront, which works until it doesn't. One night, the drunk grabs Charles who has just opened the man's pocket knife, and, in horrible accident, plunges the knife into the man's gut. Worse, a woman happens out of an alley door, spots the boys, and cries havoc. Charles and Aiden now have to get out of Boston, but where?

With the connivance of a friendly whore and an accommodating minister, the boys pass themselves off as orphan brothers and are sent to the Boston Farm School on an island in Boston Harbor. That the school's policy not to accept boys with any kind of criminal record, which Charles has; that there is rampant anti-Irish feeling in Boston in the period, which means Aiden has to watch his accent; and that the school promotes a heavy Protestant Christian ethos to boys guilty of murder makes the island a refuge filled with tripwires.

At the same time, the school offers school, work, shelter, and regular meals. The book's middle section book dramatizes Aiden's and Charles's adjustment to school life as the reader knows this idyll is too good to last. As it is.

The Boston Farm School on Thompson Island in Boston Harbor was a real institution, and Charles Bradley, the superintendent of the school in the book, was in fact the superintendent from 1888 to 1922; his wife Mary was the school's matron. The school was finally closed in 1975.

Mayo has taken the basic factual information about the school and 1889 Boston society to create two engaging 12-year-olds in Aiden and Charles. The novel works so well I think because Mayo is able to evoke the times, the society, and the thought processes of the characters. We see the world through the eyes of Charles, Aiden, and Superintendent Bradley; they are all different, and they are all convincing, given who they are and what they want.

Although the two protagonists of The Island of Worthy Boys are pre-teen, which tends to cast a novel into the YA genre, I believe this is a book adults and young adults can find rewarding. Young people will be interested how Aiden and Charles fill their days in Boston, scrounging for pennies, and at the school, adjusting to life with 98 other boys. Adult readers will be interested in Mayo's evocation of 19th century assumptions about child raising, the era of "As the twig is bent, the tree will grow." Bradley turns out to be an unusually enlightened and kind reform school superintendent. I finished the book pleased and satisfied, and, perhaps more importantly, convinced that the lives Mayo has realized could have truly lived while the drama of their story carried me along.

Joyce Carol Oates's opinions are fascinating

Uncensored: Views & (Re)Views by Joyce Carol Oates is a collection of reviews and essays. It was published in 2005, and the works originally appeared in The New York Review of Books, The Times Literary Supplement, The New York Times and elsewhere between 1999 and 2004. The dates, however, are irrelevant. Oates' comments about Sylvia Plath, Willa Cather, Richard Yates, Ernest Hemingway, Balthus, and her reviews of books by William Trevor, E. L. Doctorow, Kazuo Ishiguro, and Mary Karr among other are as interesting today as when they were published.

I picked the book up because I was curious to see what Oates had to say about these writers, to see if there are writers I ought to know more about (there are), and to improve my own ability to read and, ideally, to write. What does a working novelist and short story author like Oates have to say? What does she respond to in a book? What does she criticize—or feel does not work?

As a writer of fiction, I think about the challenges. How do you engage a reader? How do you create—invent, devise, fabricate, fashion, build, construct—living characters that are, after all, nothing but words on paper? How do you avoid rupturing the reader's willing suspension of disbelief, throwing her out of the story and tempting her to throw the book across the room?

The only way I know to answer questions like these is to learn what seems to work and what usually doesn't work in fiction. You can, I supposed, learn this on your own, but by doing so you are always limited by your own experiences, your own history, by what you are able to bring to and take from the text. A thoughtful reader like Joyce Carol Oates, with her history and her experience, can add alternative insights, ideas, and perspectives to your own.

One of the book's more interesting essays is "A Garden of Earthly Delights Revisited." Oates wrote the novel in 1965-66 (when she was in her late 20s) and had the opportunity to revise it in 2002. "As a composer can hear music he can't himself play on any instrument, so a young writer may have a vision he or she can't quiet execute; to feel something, however deeply, is not the same as possessing the power—the craft, the skill, the stubborn patience—to translate it into formal terms."

I have not done it (and considering the demands on my time, probably won't do it), but a fascinating exercise would be to compare the 1967 edition of A Garden of Earthly Delights to the 2002 edition. How often is it possible to compare a writer's early version of a novel with her mature edition? If you know of any others, please let me know.

A gay police chief has to solve a small town murder

Stephanie Gayle has attempted a difficult trick and, in my opinion, pulled it off: She has written Idyll Threats entirely in the voice of a gay, former New York homicide detective, Thomas Lynch, now the police chief in bucolic Idyll, Connecticut.

At the beginning of the book, Lynch is profoundly depressed. He has not recovered from the death of his partner and friend in New York City, a shooting that derailed Lynch's career, sending him off to rural Idyll. He's been the town's chief for seven months, seems to have learned almost nothing about

the town ("You could fit what I knew about this town into a shell casing"), has an arm's-length relationship with his officers, and is terrified they will learn he's gay.

One night, Lynch allows himself to be picked up by a local he's stopped for speeding. They go to a shack for their tryst but find it already in use by a young woman and an older man. Lynch's arrival in uniform destroys the couple's mood and his own enthusiasm for quick, uncommitted sex. Everyone heads home, presumably frustrated. The next morning, the local golf course's groundskeeper finds the young woman's body on the 9th green, four bullets in her.

Lynch now has a problem. If he tells his detectives he'd seen the girl shortly before she was killed, he'll have to tell them where and how he'd seen her. In the homophobic world of a small town police station in 1997, this is more than Lynch can face. He has to solve the murder without revealing his involvement.

Gayle can write a lively scene. She has a chapter in which Lynch interviews an elderly, somewhat dotty woman who has seen figures on the golf course the night of the killing. He tries to keep the lady on topic while fending off her horny Pomeranians. It's a hoot (and the information relevant).

She can also write a neat description: "His bare arms were a mosaic of bad tattoos. He even had a dancing hula girl. Her lips were crooked. When I looked closer. I saw that all of her was crooked. He deserved a refund for that tat." Or: "Inside, it looked like a science fair and a yard sale had mated." And: "I couldn't say more [to the parents of the dead girl]. Didn't dare. Hope is a terrible gift. The return policy is heartbreak."

While I had no problem with Lynch's homosexuality, I had a real problem at the beginning of the book with his decision to have sex with the guy he'd stopped for speeding. Chief! Okay, it's been months since you've had sex with anyone, but this is a small town, not New York City! It can only end badly!

As it does. Not only does the visit to the shack hobble the murder investigation (although, to be fair, Lynch could not have imagined that), but the guy he'd gone off with shows up mid-book with a speeding ticket and blackmails Lynch into tearing it up.

Once I had accepted Lynch's flawed judgment, however, I was willing to be carried along by his voice as he deals with past demons and current stresses. By the end of the book, while still unwilling to excuse his actions, I understood why he did what he did. All in all, I thought Idyll Threats an interesting first entry in what promises to be an entertaining series.