Showing posts with label Sarah Barracuda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sarah Barracuda. Show all posts

Friday, October 10, 2008

Bouchercon and I'm Not There









This year I've skipped Thrillerfest, Edgar's Week and now Bouchercon, taking place today and this weekend in Baltimore. O Poe! O Nevermore!

Bouchercon is the biggest mystery and crime writing conference, with many of the big names in mystery writing, and endless panels, some good, some dull, and high times in the bar. Always high times in the bar.


I went to Bouchercon in Chicago a few years ago. At that time, The Shadow Warriors was newly out and the bookstore actually sold copies. Now the rules have changed and it wouldn't be considered legitimately published and so the bookstore wouldn't have it and I wouldn't be listed as an author. How galling is that?


E-publishers are not now and never were "real" publishers, and POD is not a legitimate printing method in the eyes of most writing organizations, with more jumping on the "let's keep ourselves exclusive" bandwagon all the time. Sisters in Crime, formerly the most democratic of organizations has become "exclusive" too. It is hard to have one's nose pressed against the glass of the candy store, or book store or . . .

But that's not why I'm staying home. Instead, I went to The Muse and the Marketplace here locally, and I'm taking a writing course at Brown, and actually trying to improve my writing rather than rub elbows with other writers. I've been rubbing elbows until my sweaters need leather patches, and you know, there are people who really suck at networking and promoting themselves and I am one.

Of course I'll be at the New England Crime Bake which is only 20 miles down the road, and I trekked to Sleuthfest, and heard positive comments from the agent and editor and it came to naught. There's a lot to be said for Florida in late February-early March. Sun. Warmth. Beaches. Crab meals. Relaxation. Friends.

So it's back to writing and writing and writing and trying to write the best book possible, and then make it better, because that's the only thing that's going to count. Not schmoozing and smiling and propping my frayed elbows on the bar no matter how much more fun socializing is that sitting here staring at the screen.

Writing is hard work.

I hope this doesn't come across as a whine. As a kid you expect a level playing field and things to be fair and of course they are not and maybe you rail against unfairness and then you suck it up and become more realistic about life. I'm sure McCain rails at the unfairness of the economy diving into the toilet at this time. Not fair! So he and Caribou Barbie talk dirty about Obama. She is edging toward demagogue. I try to stay above all that.


Rolling in the gutter is for losers.

At Boucheron I would love to corner Dan Fesperman and talk about his Afghan book. So good. Wow, was it good! Should have made the best seller list, but then nothing about publishing is necessarily about quality, or even a good story, it's about what the public finds comfortable to read, those who do read, which are fewer and fewer; the public reads romances, little cozies, fantasies, thrillers with cardboard characters, and sometimes the excellent books that everyone can love. Just because many of the books that are published don't appeal to me doesn't mean they're not eminently readable.

I don't pretend to understand what resonates with the reading public. It ain't fictionalized computer crime, that's for sure. I hope when I use the vernacular, so to speak, that I don't start sounding like Sarah Palin. That's for darn sure.

O.K. off to the drugstore and a walk through town. Walking always puts me in a better frame of mind.


Grrrapeshot

Saturday, October 04, 2008

Doggerel for an October Day

I went to New Hampshire to work for Obama and the Democrats today, a beautiful fall day when most people were out or did not answer the door (so few doorbells, so many inaccessible front doors) or whatever. To the brave souls who dared confront a slightly pudgey not-very-young campaigner with a big smile and an Obama button, you rock!

Last night, I composed a bit of doggerel inspired by the debate and the web and all the hoop-la.
It's not great poetry and I could do better if I spent more than 20 minutes but hey, doesn't spontaneity count?

Caribou Barbie, Vice-President Wannabe

Caribou Barbie flying in low
She hails from the state of ice and snow.

Caribou Barbie making beaucoup waves.
Mooseburger and Caribou are menu faves.

Caribou Barbie on climate change:
Polar Bears must find a new home on the range.

Caribou Barbie so colloquial and homey
On a clear day from Wassilla you can see a few commie.

Caribou Barbie standing on a ridge
Scouting out a site for the infamous bridge.

Caribou Barbie hockey mom and mayor.
For Rape Kits in Wasilla, the victim is the payer.

Caribou Barbie cooks with polar bear helper
While she shoots at wolves from a helicopter.

Caribou Barbie reads no papers or books
She scorns all those elitist hooks.

Caribou Barbie, McCain’s weird pick
Caribou Barbie, our Northwoods hick.


Here is a link to a couple of interesting photos that claim not to be photo-shopped.
http://loc.rousefamily.com/leftofcentrist/?p=1198

Make up your own mind.


Grapeshot

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Out and About in the City

Yesterday we were at an art auction in downtown Boston, and as usual, the trip had an educational aspect, but not in the ways one would anticipate.

Hint: if you like to avoid eating with small children or if you have small children and would like to go out to eat, Legal Seafood in the Park Plaza neighborhood on a rainy Friday is just the ticket. I ate the spicy fish and chips (Yowza!) and S.O. had gumbo. Drank a glass of Fernaccia from Tuscany that hit the spot.

Fashion. Black is the new black. You can mix black and brown. Who knew? A black top and slacks with a tan safari type jacket is the cat's meow.

Jeans go with everything, especially with long legs. Ballet flats good. Long blond hair always good, the less styled the better. Boston didn't look so unstylish yesterday, but maybe because I am so friggin' out of it. My navy blazer and tan slacks looked so . . . yesterday, so suburban, so matronly.

If you have a new house and need good art on the walls--we are NOT talking Kincaid here, hie yourself to one of the Skinner auctions and pick up some nice paintings under $400.00. Hard to believe, when some of the shopping center art in its yuckky awfulness goes for thousands. Portraits are especially a good bargain. Tell someone it's your great aunt.

Weird man on the subway, asking for spare change. Usually someone weird on the subway, but that's the not-so-discreet charm of the city.

Get out and about. Away from the TV. You didn't want to hear about Sarah Palin's trip to Ireland anyhow. The plane refueled. Hey, I saw the coast of Vietnam once. Does that count?
O.K. enough.

Grapeshot

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Maureen Dowd is right on!

Maureen Dowd's column in the New York Times today has humor, irony and sticks it to Sarah Palin on any number of issues.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/10/opinion/10dowd.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

Wish I would have said that. Now if only she had mentioned polar bear helper. . . .

Grapeshot

Monday, September 08, 2008

God, Mother, Country, Apple Pie, No, I mean Plum Tart


So this election is beginning to look like there will be scant discussion of issues and lots of God, mother and country talk. Are these issues? I don't think so.


I'm tempted to stand on the corner and scream, "you're a nation of sheep! and the wolf is coming to the fold! " But what good would it do? I may set my hair on fire.


In the meantime, there is food. No, not apple pie, but plum tart. Yes, the prune plums have arrived. They are hard to find. Also known as Italian prune plums, and where are the little Italian grandmother (nonas) of yesteryear?


Not shopping where I do. We cleaned the prune plums out of Stop & Shop. Most of them were hard as gourds, but a few days on the counter did ripening miracles, and this morning I made the crust by hand out of flour, sugar, butter, and an egg. The photo is the result.
We haven't tucked into it yet. The nuts are hazlenuts, because I was out of almonds. The top is also sprinkled liberally with sugar into which a soupcon of cinnamon and nutmeg have been sifted.
Mega yum! Now I have to work on my novel, always a pleasure. Did you watch Mad Men last night? The plot thickens. I like that. Good conflict. We like that, too. Some of the characters aren't very nice. In fact, are any of the characters nice? Some of the women are rather like Sarah Baracuda, don't you think? Isn't it weird they won't let her talk to the press? A VP candidate who isn't allowed to talk? A woman, yet? I dunno. It's like she has to be brainwashed and primed and pumped by the handlers. And people are going to vote for these two?
I forgot. People won't vote for them. Sheep will. Are you man or Merino? Baaaa?