Jennifer Jordan's Posts - CrimeSpace2024-03-29T00:37:12ZJennifer Jordanhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/jenfleurhttp://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/60985286?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1http://crimespace.ning.com/profiles/blog/feed?user=jenfleur&xn_auth=noFollow My Leadtag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-03-11:537324:BlogPost:38522007-03-11T04:14:31.000ZJennifer Jordanhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/jenfleur
<h3>Life is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived. - Gabriel Marcel</h3>
<p>Writers are like magicians in their ability to pull characters out of their hats. The well-written protagonists become almost real people that can
stay with the writer and the reader well after the book is finished. They run<br />
the gamut from Beowulf to Hamlet; from Holden Caulfield to the<br />
Vampire Lestat; from the almost iconic Sherlock Holmes and Sam Spade to John<br />
Rebus. The list is endless and…</p>
<h3>Life is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived. - Gabriel
Marcel</h3>
<p>Writers are like magicians in their ability to pull characters out of their
hats. The well-written protagonists become almost real people that can <br />
stay with the writer and the reader well after the book is finished. They run <br />
the gamut from Beowulf to Hamlet; from Holden Caulfield to the <br />
Vampire Lestat; from the almost iconic Sherlock Holmes and Sam Spade to John <br />
Rebus. The list is endless and thinking of one favorite will <br />
lead you to another.</p>
<p>Calling a protagonist a hero is far too simplified and sometimes far from the
actual case. In many instances, the lead is flawed and often <br />
haunted. Sometimes literally. This seems especially true of crime fiction. The <br />
internal motives that would drive someone to crime or the <br />
pursuit of criminals run as deep and as wide as the Mississippi during flood <br />
season. Readers may fall in and get pulled under by the current <br />
to later find themselves gasping for breath on the shore, wondering what the <br />
hell just happened.</p>
<p>Crime fiction protagonists are born of the good, the bad and the ugly in an
author. They bear scars and wear armor fashioned from the <br />
author’s own strengths and fears. As readers, these human qualities draw <br />
us in and involve us in the story. Something about them resonates <br />
in us. We feel empathy; we begin to care about them. We want them to be ok. <br />
We are given no reassurances.</p>
<p>Ask a group of readers who their favorite protagonists are and why and the
answers will be as varied as the people you’ve asked. Ask David <br />
Peace, Victor Gischler, Laura Lippman, John Connolly, Martyn Waites, Manuel <br />
Ramos, and Dennis Lehane the same questions and you <br />
will find the same intensity and some startling insights.</p>
<p>Let’s get to the heart of the matter. The blood and the guts. What makes
a great protagonist remarkable? Why is one character so compelling <br />
and another utterly forgettable?</p>
<p>Nineteen Eighty Three completed David Peace’s Yorkshire Ripper Quartet.
Narratives wrought with sleaze and the distortion of justice are <br />
woven through this evocative noir epic. His characters are deeply troubled and <br />
psychologically compelling.</p>
<p>“For me, the main element in any protagonist is whether or not they are
believable. In order for them to be believable, they have to be <br />
"grey". Every day I do good things and I do bad things - the truth <br />
here, a white lie there, a kind thought and an unkind one. I don't see any <br />
black and white in my life and protagonists written in monochrome are unbelievable <br />
and of no interest to me.”</p>
<p>Victor Gischler has written a series of neo noir short stories and his book,
Gun Monkeys, features a darkly humorous and morally upstanding <br />
mob hit man that loves his mommy. “When reading, I don't like the feeling <br />
that the protagonist was created only to find clues and solve a <br />
mystery. I want to feel the character is a living breathing person who has had <br />
an involved, complex life well-established before the novel <br />
began. I suppose this is important for many of the major characters, not just <br />
the protagonist. The protagonist needs a specific balance of <br />
characteristics. I need to feel confident in him/her, like he/she can handle <br />
whatever happens. Yet the protagonist must be vulnerable <br />
enough for us to have suspense. I need to believe there's a good chance things <br />
WON'T work out for our hero, so I can be a little afraid.”</p>
<p>Edgar, Shamus, Anthony and Agatha award winner Laura Lippman’s novels
feature Baltimore PI, Tess Monaghan. Tess has seen evil up <br />
close and personal and has every intention of kicking its ass.</p>
<p>“She should be able to bench at least 150 pounds.
Okay, now that I've amused myself (if no one else), let me think about that <br />
much more seriously. It's a personal question, not unlike -- What's <br />
the best double-scoop combination at Baskin-Robbins. Because while I would argue <br />
vehemently for chocolate chip-orange sherbet, I know <br />
there are a variety of good answers.</p>
<p>I think the best protagonists are flawed because human beings are flawed. They
have a strong sense of right and wrong. Granted, it may be <br />
about as mainstream as chocolate chip-and-orange sherbet, but it's clear to <br />
them. They do not necessarily see themselves as forces for good <br />
in the world, but they will take up a cause if no one else steps forward.</p>
<p>Oh, and they're interesting and they should be very good company, someone you
would want to spend time with even in their downtime.”</p>
<p>John Connolly has an undeniable talent for writing about reluctant, troubled
heroes. His protagonists are common men in the midst of <br />
uncommon events that step forward to help when most would back away. Their ultimate <br />
desire for justice and their internal struggles set <br />
Connolly’s leads apart from the macho superhero commonly found in crime <br />
fiction. When asked about the elements of a strong protagonist, <br />
he answers: “I really wish I knew. I suppose, on one level, the reader <br />
needs to be able to admire them - not unconditionally, but he or she <br />
should be understandable to the reader and yet capable of acting in ways that <br />
are a little beyond the capacities of the average reader. <br />
Actually, my abiding memory of someone making a profound mistake in the creation <br />
of a lead character came during a radio workshop I <br />
was involved in. The woman whose work was being critiqued had written what was, <br />
in many ways, a very strong piece of modern crime <br />
fiction. The only problem was that, three pages in, her hero wet himself with <br />
terror. With that in mind, here is my Number One Rule For <br />
Creating A Protagonist: Your protagonist should never, ever, smell of wee... <br />
</p>
<p>Although we may not admit it, we like our lead character to be just that little
bit smarter, that little bit faster, that little bit funnier, or maybe <br />
that little bit harder than we are. For example, a mystery novel in which the <br />
reader was always one step ahead of the detective would be <br />
very disappointing.</p>
<p>There is, I think, a strong element of wish-fulfillment in mystery fiction,
both on the part of the readers and the writers. Most writers aren't <br />
very tough (and I am very skeptical of those writers who tell stories in bars <br />
in which they claim to be tough.)</p>
<p>When I began writing the Parker novels, the first thing I wrote was the prologue.
I wanted Parker to be a man defined by grief and loss. He <br />
grows in stature as the books progress, I hope, but in the beginning he's a <br />
bit of a lost soul; very human, but very lost. He's not an archetypal <br />
tough guy: that really doesn't interest me at all. In the end, he has human <br />
weaknesses.”</p>
<p>Manuel Ramos has created a surprisingly buoyant lead in Denver-based Latino
lawyer Luis Montez. Montez lives in a world of violence and <br />
double standards. The novels reveal the enmity facing Latinos in a white world. <br />
Ramos’s first-person narrative has a palpable emotional <br />
quality. “When I think of the characters who have stuck in my head over <br />
the years the common characteristic that comes to mind is that I <br />
have been able to relate at a very personal level with that character. The character <br />
has good and bad characteristics, strengths and <br />
weaknesses, not always smart, may even be ill-mannered, but I always know that <br />
he or she really wants to do the right thing, and that creates <br />
some empathy. So, I care about what happens to the character, even if I don't <br />
actually "like" that person. A writer who can do that is <br />
someone I will read again, and again.”</p>
<p>P.I. Stephen Larkin takes more punishment in Martyn Waites books than a rugby
team takes in the World Cup. Larkin is an imminently <br />
likeable protagonist. He does what is right despite all of the wrong that is <br />
done to him and he has a mordant drollness that antagonizes <br />
antagonists. There is a sense that Larkin has no one and no place that he belongs <br />
to and yet his will to survive is astonishing. “When I came <br />
to create my own series protagonist, Stephen Larkin, I knew what I wanted. He <br />
had to be an outsider, able to go where he wanted, unbound <br />
by the restraints of a job or the law, operating to his own moral code. The <br />
job of a policeman, with its rules, regulations and paperwork was <br />
out. I made him a journalist, a burnt out investigative one. I wanted him to <br />
have had a troubled past so I gave him a dead wife and child that <br />
he could still feel guiltily responsible for. He has his own personal demons <br />
to wrestle with. He drinks too much.</p>
<p>He has a strong sense of right and wrong, of justice over law. I didn't want
him to just be the investigator (I hate the idea of investigative or <br />
detective fiction for its own sake). I wanted there to be a reason for him to <br />
get involved with each story, for it to mean something for him <br />
personally. He has to be there for a reason, just as every other character in <br />
the book is. He had to have development, his own over-riding <br />
arc. He had to suffer each time and hopefully learn from it. This may sound <br />
like the archetypal, even clichéd, noir protagonist, but I don't <br />
care. I wanted him troubled; I wanted him looking for something. I wanted his <br />
heart to beat and the reader's along with it. In short, I wanted <br />
him human. I didn't want a superman who knew all the answers or who wouldn't <br />
be touched by the event around him. To me, crime fiction <br />
isn't about plot or whodunit or which clues you spot or anything like that. <br />
I read crime fiction for the same reason I read other fiction - I want <br />
good storytelling, atmosphere, an exciting use of words and language, a strong <br />
voice. But above all else, good characters. You get them, <br />
give them something interesting to do, and the rest follows.”</p>
<p>Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro have inspired a rabid following for Dennis
Lehane. The two characters grew up together and operate just <br />
outside of the law and love in an ever evolving, dynamic relationship. Mystic <br />
River has taken the noir protagonist and redefined it. The <br />
depth of pain conveyed by the three leads and the despair the reader experiences <br />
with them is breathtaking. Shutter Island’s Teddy Daniels <br />
will break your heart. “Flaws are important. Nothing bores me faster than <br />
reading a book in which the main character is forthright, honest, <br />
noble and the like. Characters should resemble people and people are a compendium <br />
of strengths and weaknesses. When those strengths <br />
and weaknesses coincide, you get conflict and conflict is the core of fiction.” <br />
</p>
<p>It can take weeks (for Larry Block), months or even years to write a book.
For that time, the writers have that lead living with them on many <br />
different levels. Does the author experience events with their protagonist or <br />
is it more of an emotional catharsis? David Peace suffers for his <br />
art. What is it like to have a protagonist living in your head for months or <br />
years? “To be honest, in my case, it is depressing and I do try to <br />
regulate very strictly the hours of my day so I can keep these people locked <br />
inside the study and not bring them to the dinner table and the <br />
kids. It doesn't always work though.”</p>
<p>“For me, it's not a big deal.” Gischler says. “I've heard
writers say they "assume" the personality of the character. I guess <br />
I don't really do <br />
that. I don't feel like I've ever been "taken over" by one of my protagonists. <br />
Maybe I should say that I have been. Maybe that would sell <br />
more books.”</p>
<p>Lippman agrees. “I like it. It's a socially acceptable way for an adult
to have an imaginary friend.”</p>
<p>What is it like for Ramos? “Distracting. When Luis starts telling me
about another one of his cases, it has to be written down, right then! So, <br />
there goes the day job, the planned vacation, mowing what's left of my lawn, <br />
that movie I had wanted to see.”</p>
<p>“Ask my wife. She has to put up with it more than me,” laughs Waites.
He continues, “and now for the less glib reply. To me, it's not just the <br />
<br />
one protagonist. It's all the characters. They're all there, in my head, the <br />
good ones, the mad ones, the mad ones and the sad ones and the <br />
plain confused ones. I carry the lot round with me and they all talk to me. <br />
Sometimes they try and conceal what they mean, sometimes they <br />
come out and tell me. I sometimes think of how the other characters are doing. <br />
Moir, who bowed out at the end of Candleland, I wonder <br />
how him and his daughter are getting on living in Clapham. And whether he's <br />
happy or not. I hope so. Stephen Larkin has been different, <br />
though. He's the one I've gone back to more and more. I've stopped writing about <br />
him now and created a completely new set of characters <br />
for the novel I'm working on at the moment, The White Room. I'm not saying I'll <br />
never bring him back, I just think I have more interesting <br />
stories to tell without him.”</p>
<p>For Connolly, it is a very involved process. “It can get a little wearing
at times. I find that while I spend a certain number of hours at my desk <br />
writing, I spend far more thinking about writing, so that means that the characters <br />
are with me even when I'm at a movie, out to dinner, or <br />
simply taking a walk. The upside is that I figure out a lot of things while <br />
I'm doing that, but the downside is that the book never really goes <br />
away. I love what I do, and I think any writer who earns a living from writing <br />
should never be off his or her bended knees giving thanks for <br />
it, but writing can be draining at times. "Dark Hollow", my second <br />
book, was very difficult to write. I remember finishing it and being very <br />
tired, very down, and just generally worn out by it, maybe because it's a dark, <br />
intense book. But that's probably as it should be: if I don't <br />
have an emotional investment in it, how can I expect it to affect the reader?” <br />
</p>
<p>Lehane sums it ups beautifully. “One of my mentors, the novelist John
Dufresne, has a great moment in his book ‘Love Warps the Mind a <br />
Little’, in which the main character asks: "How do you explain to <br />
the person you're speaking to at the cocktail party that your eyes are <br />
wandering not because you're bored, but because two of your characters have <br />
just entered the room and approached the curtains and <br />
you're curious to see what they'll do next." It's a lot like that. When <br />
I was living with Teddy in ‘Shutter Island’, I began to dream like <br />
him. <br />
When I spent too long in Dave Boyle's head in ‘Mystic River’, I <br />
had to lock up my office and stay away for a week just to dry clean my brain. <br />
<br />
When I'm with Patrick for extended periods, I find myself thinking in a much <br />
more "quippy" fashion, always looking for the funniest lines in <br />
any given situation.”</p>
<p>There has been great debate about when to retire a character. Writers can outgrow
a character before readers do and vice versa. When is it <br />
time to put a protagonist to pasture?</p>
<p>“Probably when the story leads to that pasture,” answers Ramos.
“I think I will know when Luis has run his course simply because there <br />
isn't <br />
anything new to say about him. There can always be different plots, of course, <br />
but if there is nothing new going on with the character, then <br />
there's not much point.”</p>
<p>“As long as the author can stay interested, it will work.” Gischler
reflects. “If the author starts to get bored, then the readers will too.” <br />
</p>
<p>Waites answer parallels that of Gischler. “As soon as you get bored writing
about them. Personally, I don't care about sales, I don't care <br />
about winning formulas. If you're fed up with a character, get rid of them. <br />
Larkin is now no more. He pops up in Born Under Punches but <br />
only as one character in an ensemble. And he works as a journalist. Nothing <br />
else. It got to the stage with him that when I sat down to right a <br />
Larkin-centric novel, it was like putting on a jacket that I'd been wearing <br />
for years. I might still like the jacket but it was starting to look old <br />
and threadbare. It had been repaired a few times but was showing its age. Time <br />
to put it back in the wardrobe and buy a new one. Leave it <br />
till it became fashionable again.</p>
<p>Also, I think there is a finite limit to the amount of things that can happen
to one person without stretching things to ridiculous limits. I would <br />
hate to be one of these writers who just go on, churning out the same stuff <br />
with ever diminishing returns just for the sake of a few quid. You <br />
may as well do factory work or go work in a call centre for all the stimulation <br />
that allows. Readers are, by and large, intelligent. If you went to <br />
a restaurant that had a good reputation and they served you up sub-standard <br />
rubbish, you'd complain that they were just coating on the <br />
strength of their name and not eat there again. It's the same with series books. <br />
Keep things fresh and interesting for yourself and you'll do <br />
the same for the readers.”</p>
<p>“That's a hard one to answer,” says Connolly when asked about character
retirement, but that doesn’t keep him from answering. “Ideally, <br />
<br />
when the writer gets sick of writing about a central character it's probably <br />
a good time to give up, because that's going to be communicated to <br />
the reader. At the very least, you're going to produce substandard work that <br />
shortchanges those who've liked your earlier work.</p>
<p>The flipside of the question is, how do you allow a character to develop over
a lifetime of writing so that he or she remains fresh to both the <br />
writer and the reader? I'm not sure that I have the answer yet, but I suspect <br />
that it may be related to the humanity of the character. Many <br />
protagonists tend to exist in kind of unreal universes, where they never really <br />
age, don't find themselves encumbered by children, don't have <br />
to answer to anyone but themselves. That's why I've tried to do things a little <br />
differently with Parker, by at least exploring how he might go <br />
about seeking love, stability, a family. It may not work in this particular <br />
genre - after all, a man or woman with a family is probably not going <br />
to do anything to endanger them - but it's worth examining.”</p>
<p>Lippman’s opinion isn’t set in stone. “I used to think it
was when the writer was tired. But I'm beginning to see that the character might <br />
tire <br />
before the writer does. Let's just say that I hope, to paraphrase Potter Stewart <br />
on the subject of pornography, that I'll know it when I see it.”</p>
<p>Peace has a different opinion. “I don't actually care for the 'serial
protagonist' much - though I do use recurring characters. I prefer a change <br />
<br />
of narrative perspective. However, I very much admire (and have been influenced <br />
by) the writings of James Lee Burke and Ian Rankin and <br />
both have produced exceptional work with their Robicheux and Rebus series. That <br />
said, I have also often wondered what novels they might <br />
have written had they not had the constraints of their lead characters - but <br />
then we might never have had ‘The Confederate Dead’ or ‘Black <br />
<br />
& Blue’. Tough call.”</p>
<p>Lehane is succinct . “When there's no space left for them to grow or
change.”</p>
<p>Leads in mystery novels are beaten, shot, stabbed, drugged, run over, deprived
of sleep and tortured. Sometimes all in one day. Yet, <br />
somehow, they persevere. If placed in a situation similar to those they’ve <br />
placed their protagonists in, how would these authors fare?</p>
<p>Gischler doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I would have my ass handed
to me on a tray in about four seconds flat.”</p>
<p>Connolly is in agreement. “Like 99.9999 per cent of mystery writers,
I'd probably end up dead.”</p>
<p>Lehane says simply, “Badly.”</p>
<p>“Not very well, I'm afraid.” Ramos remarks, “My series protagonist,
Luis Montez, is a Chicano lawyer in Denver, living on the edge. I have to <br />
admit that we have some characteristics in common, but I certainly am not Luis. <br />
I've never stumbled on a dead body in my office or had to <br />
confront a hit man with a giant handgun and a serious case of "shoot now <br />
and ask later." I lead a fairly quiet life, try to avoid hassles. Luis <br />
<br />
doesn't know what a quiet life is, and his friends and clients are nothing but <br />
hassles.”</p>
<p>Lippman expounds. “Poorly. I have a recurrent nightmare in which I find
myself in a life-or-death moment, and I can't produce any sound. <br />
(Go ahead, amateur Freudians, take your shots.) I'm the person who can never <br />
remember what to do when I hit a patch of ice -- steer which <br />
direction -- and I consequently dinged someone else's car a few winters ago. <br />
Over a decade ago, I was riding my bike and the chain slipped, <br />
catapulting me forward over my handlebars. I had just enough time to reject <br />
bringing my arm up, as I didn't want to break it. Didn't have <br />
enough time to craft a counter-strategy, so I ended up landing on my upper lip, <br />
knocking out three teeth and sustaining a scar I have to this <br />
day. That said, I have a pretty strong survival instinct and I've been known <br />
to sit in movie theaters and wonder what I'll do if someone comes <br />
in and starts firing randomly. I've been thinking such thoughts since the Luby's <br />
shooting in Killeen, Texas.”</p>
<p>Peace also has past experience with which to answer. “In the Quartet,
the characters live in the Yorkshire of the 70s and early 80s - which is <br />
the time and place I grew up in as a child. Obviously, I found it as dark and <br />
depressing as they do. The rage and impotence that some of <br />
them feel in the face of the times and the place in which they live, are things <br />
I felt and feel. I know something of the emotional pain, through <br />
the sudden deaths of friends and relatives. I also know something of the physical <br />
pain, through being beaten up on numerous occasions <br />
(and twice by the West Yorkshire Police). So in a word, badly.”</p>
<p>Martyn Waites is a little more hopeful. “The short answer is badly, probably.
I tend to think of Stephen Larkin as the person I would be if I <br />
were sharp enough. You know when you think of the killer one liner ten minutes <br />
after the event? Larkin is the one who thinks of it at the <br />
time. He's also more reckless than me; I'd even go so far as to say he's got <br />
something of a deathwish at times. I wouldn't be so reckless as I <br />
don't have a deathwish (just sort of a deathfear), which would make me more <br />
cautious. Which would probably make me less effective. <br />
However, having said that, I would like to think that my instinct for self-preservation <br />
was as strong. I would like to think I could get out things <br />
the same way. I would hate to be put to the test, though.”</p>
<p>Mysteries are character driven and a sense of family is extended to the best
leads. Now, the question I’ve been longing to ask… who are <br />
your favorite protagonists?</p>
<p>David Peace: “Robicheux (James Lee Burke), Rebus (Ian Rankin), Holmes
(Arthur Conan Doyle), Marlowe (Raymond Chandler), Maigret <br />
(Georges Simenon), and Easy Rawlins (Walter Mosley) as well as the voice/narrator <br />
of Derek Raymond's Factory Series. I also miss my own <br />
Jack Whitehead, now he's no longer with me.”</p>
<p>Victor Gischler: “My first favorite is Travis McGee, the entertaining
boat bum created by John D. MacDonald. The plots of the books all kind <br />
of run together in my memory, but the character of Travis remains very vivid. <br />
Dan Simmons' character Joe Kurtz is simply a hard-boiled <br />
bad-ass and very fun to read. Also, one must respect what Marlowe/Spade did <br />
for the genre -- oldies but goodies.”</p>
<p>Laura Lippman: “I couldn't name them all and I'll probably leave out
someone key. I adored Eva Wylie (Liza Cody). I always looked <br />
forward to catching up with the two Ms. Jones, Sam and Casey (Katy Munger). <br />
And Rei Shimura (Sujata Massey), and Robin Hudson <br />
(Sparkle Hayter). If I had to define a common element, it is the sense that <br />
these characters are always changing, capable of surprising.</p>
<p>Then again, I still like Spenser, who never changes, so go figure.”</p>
<p>John Connolly: “I liked Lehane's Kenzie and Gennaro, because of the way
he tackled their emotional involvement with each other, <br />
particularly in the first two books. I like Dave Robicheaux because Burke has <br />
tried to make the family situation work; even though I think <br />
even he has run into problems with Bootsie, Dave's wife. I thought Harlan Coben's <br />
Myron Bolitar books were becoming really interesting, <br />
and considerably darker, when he stopped writing them, so I'm a bit sorry about <br />
that. Finally, my all time favorite has to be Ross <br />
Macdonald's Lew Archer. He was a bit of an influence on Parker.”</p>
<p>Martyn Waites: “I've never been a fan (and this is well documented) of
the Agatha Christie type of cozy. In fact I'd go so far as to say I hated <br />
it. And still do. Marple, Poirot, Campion, Wimsey, all that lot never interested <br />
me. They never said anything about my life, my <br />
surroundings, the world I lived in. They were fatuously self assured, smug, <br />
full of themselves and displaying little in the way of self-doubt or <br />
complexity. Maybe it's just me, but I want something more than from my crime <br />
fiction than a smug cypher who solves clues. The first crime <br />
fiction lead character I came to who spoke directly to me and my life was Chandler's <br />
Marlowe. Bit of a clichéd answer, I know, but there you <br />
go. I came to Chandler through my love of the pulps. I had been reading Doc <br />
Savage and The Shadow, those brilliant, skewed, larger than <br />
life characters, and that led me to the Black Mask boys. I was (and still am) <br />
a great admirer of Batman. To me, he's the perfect skewed noir <br />
protagonist. Writing him would be my dream job. But I digress. Back to crime <br />
fiction. Marlowe, to me, had it all. He was the perpetual <br />
outsider, the man walking the mean streets 'who is not himself mean', as his <br />
creator famously said. In the world but often not of it. Unable to <br />
fit in, with a world-weary cynicism that hid a heart of bruised romance. As <br />
someone once said, the world is a tragedy to him who feels and a <br />
comedy to him who thinks. Marlowe did both. Of course, he couldn't exist in <br />
the real world. He was as much an artificial creation as Miss <br />
Marple. Hammett, with the Continental Op, was much closer to the truth. There <br />
was a man who, in the words of Trevor Griffiths, 'worked <br />
through applause, not for it'. He was a tenacious terrier, once he got hold <br />
of something he wouldn't let go. He was rough, tough and <br />
involved. He was in the world and of it. Ross MacDonald refined the private <br />
eye to the extent that Lew Archer was a man who 'if he turned <br />
sideways would disappear'. A man with no inner life of his own but the ability <br />
to open up others. These were, to me, the three archetypes of <br />
the perfect protagonist.</p>
<p>But that was then and this is now. Derek Raymond's detective sergeant has been
a huge influence on me. I couldn't begin to explain it. <br />
Here was a man who created such wonderful example of bruised humanity and set <br />
him loose in some of the darkest books ever written. <br />
Even I have trouble reading some of them. Burke's Dave Robicheaux is another <br />
who I'm inordinately fond of. He proves my point about <br />
good writing not being about plots but about the right characters in the right <br />
situations. I prefer character driven books and with Robicheaux <br />
he's got probably the finest and certainly best written <br />
creation in modern crime fiction. Robicheaux, still trying to cope with his <br />
own personal demons and to do the right thing, is probably the <br />
ultimate contemporary protagonist. He's definitely the man I want to be, or <br />
would hope to be, when I grow up.”</p>
<p>Manuel Ramos: “Easy Rawlins, Matt Scudder, Gloria Damasco (Lucha Corpi),
the Inspector in Camilleri's books, Hector Belascoaran <br />
Shayne). Other series characters that I've latched onto include Henry Rios (Michael <br />
Nava), Marlowe, and the Continental Op. As soon as I <br />
send this to you I will think of a half-dozen others.”</p>
<p>Lehane: “In my own work or others?</p>
<p>In my own, I was pretty happy with Remy Broussard in ‘Gone, Baby, Gone’.
I like Patrick a lot. Jimmy and Annabeth Marcus from ‘Mystic <br />
River’.</p>
<p>In other novels, I love Binx Bolling in Walker Percy's ‘The Moviegoer’
and Billy Parham in Cormac McCarthy's ‘The Crossing’. Nick <br />
Carroway's pretty cool in ‘The Great Gatsby’. Same with CW Shugrue <br />
in Crumley's ‘The Last Good Kiss’. I like Parker from the <br />
Westlake/Stark books and all of Elmore Leonard's protagonists.”</p><p><br/></p>
With the huge number of new mysteries being published, people will go back <br />
to the characters they know. That makes those at the business <br />
end of writing very happy. Although a series can be difficult to launch, a beloved <br />
series lead can make an authors career. As a word of <br />
mouth genre, crime fictions well-loved characters are well-talked about and <br />
well sold. When it comes down to it, despite the tours, the <br />
interviews, the eye catching book covers, the promotional t-shirts and the blurbs <br />
from other authors, what makes the book is the writing. And <br />
what makes the writing, is the protagonist.Face the Musictag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-03-11:537324:BlogPost:38492007-03-11T04:10:36.000ZJennifer Jordanhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/jenfleur
<font size="2">How often, while your mind is immersed in a mystery, does the lead<br />
character slip a favorite cd into his player while he’s driving to parts<br />
<br />
unknown?<br></br><br></br>Or perhaps when he’s drinking a bad day away?<br></br><br></br>When Mr.
“Heroic-Lead” listens to music, he listens for the same reasons<br />
we do -<br />
to escape. But in that freedom, we crawl inside his head for a while and<br />
feel his thoughts. Ian Rankin’s “Let It Bleed” is the quintessential<br />
<br />
example as it is a classic…</font>
<font size="2">How often, while your mind is immersed in a mystery, does the lead <br />
character slip a favorite cd into his player while he’s driving to parts <br />
<br />
unknown?<br/><br/>Or perhaps when he’s drinking a bad day away?<br/><br/>When Mr.
“Heroic-Lead” listens to music, he listens for the same reasons <br />
we do - <br />
to escape. But in that freedom, we crawl inside his head for a while and <br />
feel his thoughts. Ian Rankin’s “Let It Bleed” is the quintessential <br />
<br />
example as it is a classic album and an amazing book. The two are now <br />
inextricably linked in my mind. As the record streams from Rebus’ s <br />
hi-fi, it plays from my stereo. For both of us, it’s just a shot away <br />
to <br />
a period that reverberates with the moral ambiguity that was the 1960’s. <br />
<br />
Maybe it vibrates a little bit more literally from me, and a little bit <br />
more liquid for him. My brain decided to go to the source, or sources, <br />
to find out about the music of noir. Rankin was an obvious first quest. <br />
I set off to seek the creator of the mighty Rebus.</font> <br />
<p><font size="2">“Music
certainly establishes character in my books, and probably mood also. You can <br />
tell a lot about Rebus in particular from his choices of listening (he's moody, <br />
a loner, and so on, plus he comes from a certain social group - being a Stones <br />
fan over the Beatles usually marks you out as working class, or at the very <br />
least rebellious), and tells us his age, being a fan of Stones, Hendrix, Hawkwind, <br />
etc, he's likely to be late 40s/early 50s.” With a constant soundtrack <br />
in my own head as I move through my day (today, for some horrible reason, Helen <br />
Reddy’s “Delta Dawn“), the idea of a lead character having <br />
the same experience seems a natural extension and progression of the who we’re <br />
dealing with within the context of a book. As Leonard Bernstein says, “Music.... <br />
can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable.” The lead is now <br />
a person instead of a mere character. And, upon reflection, quite a few authors <br />
use music to establish mood and character. I was staggered at just how many <br />
mystery and crime writers use melody in their work.</font></p>
<p><font size="2">Mark Billingham’s protagonist, Tom Thorne, doesn’t have the complete
Rebus rebellion streak. But, he has a dark side which fuels his own need for <br />
justice. I asked Billingham if he agrees music helps build character and mood. <br />
“Very much. Everyone connects in some way with music - even if it's just <br />
to shout at the radio for playing songs that don't have tunes - and I wanted <br />
music to be an important part of my central character Tom Thorne's life. It <br />
was also important that the music he was into was of a sort that kind of marked <br />
him out a little. I want Thorne to be as deceptive as the music he loves. As <br />
“not what he seems“. As oddball in many ways and going against the <br />
grain. He's dark, and edgy, but he'll also have a good old sob to Hank Williams <br />
after one glass of wine too many, you know? It's important that Thorne's musical <br />
taste is broadly my own. It's just about the only thing he does have in common <br />
with me (except a birthday) but I need to do such a lot of research in other <br />
areas, I want the music part to be easy. Music can be a useful shorthand in <br />
terms of establishing mood. You can also use it to subvert a mood and I find <br />
that can be equally powerful. His favourite artist, and one of mine, is Johnny <br />
Cash. He is perfect for that. He has a voice that can be tender one minute and <br />
murderous the next in a way that Phil Collins could never be.” The crime <br />
writer Ace Atkins adds, “Music plays such a huge part in American culture <br />
that it’s hard to ignore as a character. For me, writing about Memphis <br />
would be useless without providing readers with a soundtrack.</font></p><font size="2"><br/>Pelecanos pontificates in a similar vein. “I can't listen to music with
vocals while I write because the words collide with the words running through <br />
my head. So I listen to instrumental music: electric jazz (70's Miles and Mahavishnu), <br />
acid jazz, trip-hop (or whatever they're calling it this week), and movie soundtracks. <br />
The music of Ennio Morricone has been in heavy rotation in my computer these <br />
past three years while I was writing the Strange/Quinn trilogy, because those <br />
books are urban westerns, and because his music is beautiful. I felt it helped <br />
me pace the scenes. Also, I was plain into it. Bullitt/Dirty Harry-era Lalo <br />
Schifrin was another favorite.” When I plugged some Ennio in I felt strangely <br />
compelled to don spurs and roll my own cigarettes despite the fact that I don’t <br />
smoke. I closed my eyes and tried to picture D.C. and couldn’t. My respect <br />
for Pelecanos increases.</font> <br />
<p><font size="2">“In terms of the ACTUAL writing, I don't listen to music at all.”
<br />
Billingham responds “I find it far too easy to sing along and drum on <br />
<br />
the desk when I should be typing. I listen to music all the time when <br />
I'm not actually working, through the course of a novel and that does <br />
change book to book. When I'm stuck into a story I listen to far less <br />
seventies stuff than I would normally - immersing myself far more in <br />
country and alt. country music. Always on the lookout for something new <br />
for Thorne to discover. Right now I'm going through a major Steve Earle <br />
phase having just read a wonderful biography and so Thorne is likely to <br />
be listening to "Guitar Town" and "El Corazon" quite a lot <br />
in the book <br />
to come...” Earle’s short stories and music ride the edge that many <br />
<br />
mystery protagonists spend their fictional lives on, and that’s probably <br />
<br />
why Pelecanos’s Quinn finds shelter in Earle’s blue collar world. <br />
In a <br />
surreal twist, Earle himself has released a collection of short stories <br />
“Dog House Roses” trying to use his lyric writing skills to tell <br />
a story <br />
without a melody. Paradox? Maybe? Or just an extension of his writing <br />
ability.</font></p>
<p><font size="2">Connolly concurs with the no music while actually writing rule. “I don't
<br />
actually listen to music when I write. I just find it too distracting. I <br />
used to have a stereo in my office, but I got rid of it. It just made <br />
the place look cluttered.” Can’t have a cluttered office when writing <br />
<br />
about spiders, can we? But, again, music plays an important role. “Music <br />
<br />
has been inspirational, though. When I'm thinking about a book - maybe <br />
when I'm walking or driving - I sometimes use music to help me <br />
concentrate. When I despaired of ever finishing Every Dead Thing - which <br />
was often, as it took five years - I would listen to “Something I Can <br />
<br />
Never Have” by Nine Inch Nails. It's a supremely sinister piece of <br />
music, and effectively soundtracks that book. Similarly, I always <br />
associate Depeche Mode's “Home” with Dark Hollow. That was the song <br />
I <br />
listened to when I ran into trouble with it, or just needed to get in <br />
the mood to write. Parts of the Sweet Hereafter soundtrack have also <br />
helped, at times, particularly the second track.”</font></p>
<p><font size="2">Fitzhugh
is in accord with silence. “I never listen to music while actually writing. <br />
I have a dilapidated building on the back of my property that I call The Way <br />
Back. I've got my album and cd collection back there with my seventies-era Klipsch <br />
Heresy speakers, turntables, cd players, mixing board, etc. I go back there <br />
a few nights a week to drink whiskey, smoke a cigar, and listen to music while <br />
I think about the current book, make notes on it. Figure out what has to happen <br />
next. But I don't do any writing out there. Right now, working on Radio Activity <br />
(which is set in a 'classic rock' radio station), I'm listening to all the great <br />
stuff from '67 to '77 that classic rock radio stations never play.” I <br />
think if Rankin ever entered the Way Back with Fitzhugh, we wouldn’t see <br />
either of them for months.</font></p>
<p><font size="2">“I never turn down blues or any music with good harmonica,” Vicki
<br />
Hendricks notes. “It's the dark side of life that appeals to me, as it <br />
<br />
does in my writing, I guess. On the writing of the current novel in <br />
progress Cruel Poetry, I've listened to Santana's Supernatural over and <br />
over for hours and hours. Sometimes I set the CD player to repeat <br />
“Smooth” and never change it, because it has just the attitude I <br />
want. <br />
One of the characters in the novel has Cuban parents, but was born in <br />
New Jersey. I can't remember if I created the character before or after <br />
I started listening to the Santana CD, so now it's all inseparable, and <br />
the Latin flavor in the form of dialogue permeates the manuscript, as <br />
well as the obsessive plea for love to someone who is so “smooth“.” <br />
</font></p>
<p><font size="2">With music playing such a prominent role in many of their novels,
another question occurred to me. Have any been musicians?</font></p>
<p><font size="2">Rankin would have been an excellent rock star. “I've never been a musician;
too lazy. Bought a guitar at 12, but wouldn't take lessons, so never learned <br />
anything. Joined a new wave band at 18. Only lasted a year. Band was called <br />
The Dancing Pigs (they pop up in 'Black and Blue', as a mega-successful band, <br />
a kind of U2 or REM). I was vocalist; wrote the lyrics. Good fun, but we never <br />
got anywhere.” It is amazingly easy to picture Rankin as lead vocalist. <br />
The author photo on the early novels gives credence to the Dancing Pigs story <br />
but Rankin in person and animated drives it home.</font></p>
<p><font size="2">Billingham has a similar account. “I was in a band at school and at
college as the lead singer. I don’t play an instrument but have always <br />
<br />
been a songwriter. The first things I ever wrote were songs which I <br />
continued to do through the late eighties and nineties as half of a <br />
musical comedy act.” This merry man chose, instead, to become one of the <br />
<br />
best new crime writers to come out of the UK.</font></p>
<p><font size="2">Fitzhugh is frank in regards to his musicianship. “The only instrument
I <br />
can play is the stereo. But I'm very good on it. When I worked in radio <br />
it used to be axiomatic that djs were just frustrated musicians. Maybe. <br />
I would love to be able to play piano or guitar but I absolutely lack <br />
the facility to understand music (keys, chords, scales, etc.) But for <br />
some reason I can listen to the end of a song and think of another one <br />
that will sound great after it. This was a useful skill when radio was <br />
about music. It is no longer of any value commercially.” But, what an <br />
<br />
asset he must be at wedding receptions.</font></p><p><font size="2"><br/></font></p>
<font size="2">Atkins has aspirations. “I’m working on it. I think I’ve <br />
stayed away from the pursuit of music because it might cloud the writing. But, <br />
I’m working on honing my harmonica skills so I might be able to play for <br />
an audience bigger than my dogs. So far, it only makes my dogs howl.” <br />
It’s better than making them run away. When I sang, my dog used to wince. <br />
But, for the most part, dogs are a polite and affable audience. Much more forgiving <br />
than their human counterparts, as we learn from the Connolly chronicles. “I <br />
was never a musician. I don't have a note in my head, and I dance like an ironing <br />
board. Despite that, my friend Mark once convinced me to enter our local talent <br />
competition with him. We called ourselves the Rabid Hounds, and covered Bob <br />
Dylan's Isis on synthesizer (me), and harmonica and guitar (Mark), despite the <br />
fact that we had never even handled any of these instruments before the night <br />
of the show. There is a tape of our performance - before about 300 people - <br />
which consists mainly of booing with a godawful racket playing in the background. <br />
About two minutes into it (following a plaintive appeal by our local priest, <br />
who was MCing the show, for us to come off on the grounds that we'd had our <br />
fun, as he put it) they turned the power off on us, so we completed the song <br />
acoustically. It wasn't much better, but at least nobody could hear it quite <br />
as well. We received nil (no points) from any of the three jurors. It was, apparently, <br />
a record. Even the 75-year-old comic - who couldn't remember the punchlines <br />
to his own jokes, and had to be prompted by the audience - got more than us.” <br />
Hans Christian Andersen said “Where words fail, music speaks.” Let’s <br />
be thankful that words rarely fail Connolly.<br/><br/>And as for Pelecanos? “I’m
Just a rabid fan.”<br/><br/>Ironic.</font>The Funny Bonestag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-03-11:537324:BlogPost:38462007-03-11T03:54:14.000ZJennifer Jordanhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/jenfleur
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Lenny Bruce said that all of his humor was based on destruction and despair and nothing less can be said of the following writers. They have
melded the two seemingly polar opposites of crime fiction and humor into intelligent<br />
tales of people at their best and their worst. By meeting the darkest moments<br />
of their lives with humor, their characters show a resilience and humanness<br />
difficult to emulate with purely straight fiction. For the reader, the droll<br />
…</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Lenny Bruce said that all of his humor was based on destruction
and despair and nothing less can be said of the following writers. They have <br />
melded the two seemingly polar opposites of crime fiction and humor into intelligent <br />
tales of people at their best and their worst. By meeting the darkest moments <br />
of their lives with humor, their characters show a resilience and humanness <br />
difficult to emulate with purely straight fiction. For the reader, the droll <br />
remarks and absurd situations keep novels from the unrelentingly somberness <br />
of other types of crime fiction.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Colin Bateman does not slap you in the face with one-liners
or incite chortling with quips that seem as though they should be followed by <br />
a rim shot. His characters go through our worst days times ten, with all the <br />
grace of a hippo in tap shoes. Then they stand back up, say something snarky, <br />
and get slapped right back down. His novels will have you thinking, "There <br />
but for the grace of God go I", while sniggering by the light of your reading <br />
lamp. As Francois Truffaut says, "When humor can be made to alternate with <br />
melancholy, one has a success, but when the same things are funny and melancholic <br />
at the same time, it's just wonderful." Colin Bateman is just wonderful. <br />
And he doesn't even have to try to be wonderful.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I don't build anything intentionally. I write without
a plan, which can lead you up blind alleys, but it's the only way I can do it. <br />
I do a lot of film and TV work now and my lack of a coherent plan drives producers <br />
mad, because they like to know what they're getting. So I guess that makes the <br />
humour inherent. Some books, like my fourth, <strong>Empire State</strong>, <br />
start out as serious thrillers designed to attract the big bucks and Bruce Willis, <br />
but I always shoot myself in the foot by letting the humour in; <strong>Empire <br />
State</strong> was so politically incorrect that it became the first of my books <br />
not to be published in the States! And I haven`t been back since!"</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">In many ways, humor is truth. Bill Fitzhugh is a truth teller
of vast <br />
and painful proportions. His characters are hilarious and thought <br />
provoking as they seemingly blunder into the oddest situations.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I think all characters (people) are funny in some
way. It's just a matter of revealing it. What's funny about them may be obvious <br />
to everyone or it may be apparent only when seen from a certain perspective. <br />
The humor might come from a character's obsession with something (whether it's <br />
model trains, cleanliness, sex, their sense of right and wrong, or anything <br />
else) or it could come from how seriously they take themselves or, at the other <br />
end of the spectrum, how they seem not to take anything seriously. Another approach <br />
is to put a (seemingly) serious character into an absurd (or extreme) situation <br />
and get at the humor by watching his or her response to it. Typically my protagonists <br />
are rather normal people stuck in absurd situations (a guy in the pest control <br />
business; an advertising exec; a lawyer) and surrounded by more 'colorful' characters <br />
(an improbably wealthy man dying of a rapid aging disease; an extremely optimistic <br />
guy who makes a living participating in phase III FDA experiments; bottom-of-the-barrel <br />
CIA agents, whatever). Playing them against each other reveals the humor in <br />
each."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Brian Wiprud, a seriously funny man and the well-deserved
winner of the 2002 Lefty Award for his well-stuffed book <strong>Pipsqueak</strong>, <br />
has a similar take on whether humor in a character is intentional or inherent. <br />
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I'll take what's behind door number two: inherent.
Character's end up being amusing by the predicaments they get into, which is <br />
usually the result of a character's foibles - like greed, envy, security, gluttony, <br />
revenge, deception, love - which aren't very amusing in and of themselves. The <br />
most amusing characters are often those who are very serious, dangerous and <br />
sometimes homicidal."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Those are the seven fictional sins of Wiprud. If he had
written the Ten Commandments, the first commandment would be, "Thou shalt <br />
fish", as <strong>Sleep with the Fishes</strong> archly articulates.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"The trouble didn't seem to start so much as it simply
landed, like a hunk of blazing debris." Sean Doolittle wrote this as the <br />
first line of his debut novel, <strong>Dirt</strong>. His novel, <strong>Burn</strong>, <br />
is due to be released in September. He has a subtle hand and a dry wit that <br />
interplays with the chaos of crime beautifully.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Hopefully (humor) comes naturally out of the character
or a situation. There are times I find myself trying to be cute and it always <br />
shows, never in a good way. Sometimes a character comes off so precious I just <br />
want to feed them to the wolves. In general, I think my characters tend to use <br />
humor the same way many people I know use it: instinctively, as a basic coping <br />
mechanism, often as a way of deflecting a moment they'd rather not meet head <br />
on. Then again, sometimes they just like to have a laugh."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Katy Munger is the vessel through which some of the most
hilarious humor flows. But, humor does have it's drawbacks. "The humor <br />
comes out of the character, but certainly a specific and distinct sense of humor <br />
is what attracted me to both my major protagonists in the first place and made <br />
me want to bring them to life (i.e., Casey Jones and Auntie Lil when I was writing <br />
as Gallagher Gray). The fact that they both use humor as a way to cope with <br />
life and deal with other people was the defining characteristic of both of them <br />
and this characteristic gave rise to all the other qualities I created for them. <br />
For example, they both also use humor to slip serious messages in now and then. <br />
One problem with this being their defining characteristic, however, is that <br />
readers and editors tend to not give you a lot of leeway with your characters <br />
once you have established them as being funny. They don't like it if you make <br />
them sad or depressed for more than a scene at a time, for example. I think <br />
this is because readers see a humorous spirit as a real strength and depend <br />
on that, I think, and don't like their heroes to be weak. And the editors don't <br />
like it when humorous characters aren't funny because they're afraid of pissing <br />
off readers (in general, depth is not a big selling point these days, anyway). <br />
As a result, creating a funny character can be limiting to an author in some <br />
ways."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">A little bit country and a little bit Rock 'n Roll, Rick
Riordan's <strong>Tres Navarre</strong> and the Texas he lives in bear the fruit <br />
of some of the funniest descriptions of characters and places I have read.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Sometimes, as I'm writing I'll find that a serious
character has a sense of humor that I hadn't intended originally. I think humor <br />
makes a character believable. It's hugely important to have a sense of what <br />
a person finds amusing, or conversely, what quirky habits they might have that <br />
the reader may find humorous. Writing about South Texas as I do, I find humorous <br />
characters come naturally to me. After all, we specialize in colorful, bizarre <br />
people here. We've even exported a few to national politics."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Sparkle Haytor is blessed with a rapid fire wit that she
shares with her characters. Her writing is satirical and reflects on modern <br />
life with all of its foibles. When she writes, she apparently sends out for <br />
humor.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"It comes in a shrink-wrapped, vacuum-sealed package
from Acme. I add water and stir. Very simple. Kinda like bouillon."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Malcolm Pryce, author of the sharp Chandleresque parody,
<strong>Aberystwyth Mon Amour</strong> and <strong>Last Tango in Aberystwyth</strong> <br />
(due out this August), shares the humor-as-food analogy.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Do I consciously add (humor) in as an ingredient like
adding plums to a pie, then no. But then neither is it 'inherent', either, since <br />
when I start there is almost nothing there, like an undeveloped photo in a bath <br />
of chemicals. I think I'm looking for prototype characters in which the humour <br />
is latent and can be drawn out."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">The next author reminds me of something Mason Cooley once
said. "Humor does not rescue us from unhappiness, but enables us to move <br />
back from it a little." Mark Billingham's Detective Thom Thorne's dry humor <br />
may be all that keeps him sane with the darkness he deals with on a day-to-day <br />
basis.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I find that most of the characters I create have humour
lurking in them somewhere. With some, it is their very lack of any decent sense <br />
of humour that makes them funny to others, but most characters - most people <br />
I think - are funny on one level or another. As a crime writer I'm often working <br />
with characters who are involved in the very darkest areas of human life (or <br />
more particularly death) - police officers, doctors, whatever. These people <br />
usually have a sense of humour every bit as black as you would expect - as is <br />
necessary for them to get through their days..."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">But, does this humor ever get in the way of the story? Does
an author find him or her self taking something out, or conversely, adding more <br />
in because that's what's expected? Bateman answers.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I think my sense of humour is very much a Northern
Irish one, which mixes comedy and pathos and it's quite a hard trick to pull <br />
off (particularly for directors!) I wouldn't say it ever got in the way of the <br />
story, but hopefully adds to it; I like to make sad scenes funny, and funny <br />
scenes sad; it's the juxtaposition that I find interesting and hopefully my <br />
reader(s) does as well. I never have to add humour in, but I occasionally edit <br />
it out if it doesn't work, but that's just part of the editing process. I would <br />
never look at a chapter and say, hey, I need a joke on page 36. In fact, there's <br />
never a joke on page 36."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Fitzhugh clarifies.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"The problem is that humor is so subjective. A humorous
element that I might think is organic to the story might strike someone else <br />
as getting in the way. There's no way to write something that's funny to everyone <br />
so I write to make things funny to me. I usually have to take stuff out. The <br />
more I write the more I believe that Less is More. I have a tendency to go for <br />
every joke or every funny bit of action that comes to mind and that can clutter <br />
things up. I typically do a pass over a manuscript specifically to comb out <br />
the excess jokes that made me laugh while writing but that have no business <br />
being in the final story."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Wiprud writes:</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"It's not like you drop jokes or one liners or sudden
pratfalls into the narrative that the characters stumble over. I see humor as <br />
a result of the story, not the other way around, so it can't possibly get in <br />
the way. In my books, the story is comprised of the characters working at cross-purposes. <br />
I do quite a bit of manipulation to enhance the inherent humor in these situations, <br />
primarily in the form of timing, switching perspectives, and contrasting situations. <br />
It cannot only evoke humor, but builds tension for a climax. Instead of just <br />
watching our protagonist try vainly to push his car out of the mud, why not <br />
intercut that scene with the fat lothario antagonist trying to seduce his girlfriend <br />
on a Ferris wheel?"</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Doolittle adds:</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Unless humorousness is the overriding tone of the
story, I think humor can definitely get in the way. You know it when it happens <br />
because the book starts to seem like some eager wannabe stand-up comic who is <br />
always "on," always doing a bit. It helps if the bits are hysterical, <br />
but even then it wears you out eventually.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">When the bits are lame, it's like you can sense the author's
desperation <br />
beneath the surface of the prose. And it's not intentional subtext.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">I think I edit out more "funny stuff" than I add
in, usually because <br />
it's a) not funny, b) overkill, c) out of place, or d) all of the above.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Having said that, one of the more enjoyable cheats in writing
dialogue is the time you have to think up the perfect response on behalf of <br />
a character--the thing you'd never think of in time if it were real life--and <br />
make it sound off-the-cuff."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Katy Munger has quite a bit to say on the subject.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Humor certainly can get in the way of a story. Too
many one-liners can create an annoying tone and slow things down or break the <br />
semblance of reality you have created. The important thing is to maintain the <br />
balance between humor and humanity. The amount of funny stuff that lands in <br />
any one scene often depends on the mood I was in the day I wrote it, so I always <br />
go back and try to even things out. I take out stuff that is glib, repetitious, <br />
dumb or that kills the main mood I am trying to create in a scene. I tend to <br />
slowly lose the funny stuff as I move toward the end of the book anyway, replacing <br />
it with more rapid action events instead so the book has momentum. And I think <br />
it's inappropriate to make jokes about dead bodies, etc. -- unless the deceased <br />
is a real pig and deserves it -- so I'll take out jokes made at such times, <br />
even if I was too in love with my own wit to leave them out the first time around. <br />
(Or, at least, it's inappropriate to make jokes about the victim if you want <br />
to paint a character who has a heart and soul.) I may also add in one-liners <br />
or funny moments when a scene is too serious for the type of book a reader expects, <br />
or if I have veered off character and need to bring the focus back in line, <br />
or just because on re-reading a scene I recognize a great opportunity for humor <br />
I did not see before. I used to believe that artificially inserting one-liners <br />
or humorous bits here and there would result in choppy writing and stand out <br />
as obvious, but that is definitely not true. I can't even remember what I added <br />
and when by the time a book comes out. It can be a very mechanical process and <br />
still work quite well.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Now there is definitely one circumstance in which humor
REALLY gets in <br />
the way of a story -- and that is when you are blocked. Thank god I have <br />
never had writer's block. One reason I don't is that I simply don't <br />
write if I don't feel like it -- I don't think you can force your <br />
imagination -- and it has never created a problem for me. I always get <br />
the book done in the end. But I have friends who stay on strict writing <br />
schedules with their humorous books and when they start developing <br />
writer's block, the need to dredge up humor when your spirit is sagging <br />
and you're starting to panic is a deadly combination. It can paralyze <br />
you. Who the hell can be funny when you've created a deadline for <br />
yourself as big as King Kong and it's looming over you with teeth bared?</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">One other phenomenon I've noticed is that a writer will
often start out funny, look around and notice humorous writers get no respect, <br />
then begin to feel they have to have a more "serious" plot to their <br />
books. That's when humor and plot start colliding, to the great detriment of <br />
both. You can't be all things to all people and just like we need to do in life, <br />
it's best just to relax and be who and what you are."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Rick Riordan is more relaxed.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I usually find myself cranking up the humor rather
than toning it down. I don't mean slapstick, but often dialogue reads much better, <br />
with a lot more punch, if the characters are digging into each other with some <br />
occasional witty comments. In serious situations like murder scene investigations, <br />
any cop can tell you that humor is a necessary defense mechanism. This is true <br />
in fiction as well as real life. Comic relief is at least as old as Shakespeare, <br />
after all. The darker the storyline, the more you need comedy as counterweight." <br />
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">For Sparkle Hayter, it is a simple process.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Yeah, there are lots of scenes I've written that I
edited out later. In books like mine though, which are more comedies than mysteries, <br />
if it's funny, it usually works on that basis alone. I'll never edit out a huge <br />
belly laugh scene because my main goal is to make people laugh.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Sometimes, in the rewrite, a scene that seemed funny but
irrelevant <br />
suddenly relates to the plot, themes or characters and I'll put it back in. <br />
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">These days, comedy seems truer and more relevant than the
news."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Malcolm Pryce approaches the subject botanically.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I don't feel it gets in the way, but of course you
have to be disciplined to make sure it doesn't. I don't edit with distinct characteristics <br />
or motifs in mind, like humour, mood, narrative or whatever. I just work through <br />
material time after time, always revising, and in that process all things that <br />
don't feel right are changed or taken out. A bit like mowing the lawn." <br />
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Mark Billingham, a risible young man with an elastic sense
of humor, <br />
must find the editing process painful.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Often I think of a gag and have to remind myself that
I am writing serious stuff in which a gag - for a gag's sake - would stick out <br />
like a sore thumb. Why do sore thumbs stick out by the way? Who's sticking them <br />
out? If you have a sore thumb, wouldn't you keep it hidden away? Are there some <br />
very showy hitch-hikers about? Anyway...</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Sometimes I do edit out 'funny' stuff, if I think it's come
from me rather than from the character. I'm also well aware of where there may <br />
need to be stuff that is, at least light - to save things from becoming unremittingly <br />
bleak and depressing. There is usually humour of one sort or another to be found <br />
in any situation."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">As many of these authors have mentioned, humor can make
a book harder to sell. Publishers want to be able to classify books in order <br />
to push them to the right audience. At least, that's the theory. Many writers <br />
feel humor is low man on the publishing totem poll. How often is that the case? <br />
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Bateman doesn't seem to have a problem, unlike his character
in Chapter & Verse, Ivan Connor.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"It makes it harder to sell in translation, that's
for sure; I'm probably a serious novelist in Germany. I haven`t found it difficult <br />
to sell books to publishers, but I think they might have found it difficult <br />
to sell books to the public. I think people are wary of books that are marketed <br />
as comedies. I would prefer people to buy a book that they think is a seriously <br />
good thriller, but then find that they're laughing along with it. I think they're <br />
all serious stories, which just happen to be funny as well. I mean, in movie <br />
terms, you can look at Butch Cassidy or The Sting or James Bond and they're <br />
all funny in their own way, but you wouldn't describe them as comedies. Publishers <br />
have struggled to market the books, although I think the new ones (Headline <br />
in the UK) have got it just about right."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Fitzhugh affirms Bateman's thoughts.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Not if it's supposed to be funny. I really have no
idea if -- given equally well written books, one of which is a straight thriller <br />
and one of which is a satire or comic thriller -- one is easier to sell than <br />
the other. I'd have a hard time selling a 'straight' book since I don't think <br />
I could write one very well. Notice that I didn't say a 'serious' book. People <br />
sometimes confuse humor and comedy for lack-of-substance. My books are very <br />
serious. I tend to write about issues (institutional or personal corruption, <br />
hypocrisy, perfidy, etc.). But if I were to write about them in a 'straight' <br />
fashion, I'd be preaching. No one wants to read that. But if I can make my point <br />
while making you laugh, I've got a better chance of success.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Besides, there are hundreds of people writing 'straight'
mysteries and thrillers, while there are very few writing satire and comedy. <br />
Why subject myself to all that competition?"</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Wiprud approaches the subject plainly.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Let's put it this way: an author looking to get published
would do best not to refer to the manuscript in question as humor. Let them <br />
read it as a mystery/crime novel first."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Katy Munger speaks with the voice of experience.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Absolutely. When you write humor, I can guarantee
you two things: people will either love or hate your books, and there will be <br />
little opinion in between. It all depends on whether the editor or reader connects <br />
with your sense of humor. As an example: my two different series used very different <br />
kinds of humor and attracted very different kinds of readers. When I was writing <br />
as Gallagher Gray, the humor was gentle, subtle, often comedic in an offbeat <br />
and highly physical way. My Casey Jones books are more sarcastic, dark and in-your-face. <br />
I attracted more readers with Casey (younger ones, too), but the truth is that <br />
my own sense of humor more closely parallels that of the Gallagher Gray books: <br />
I find the absurd that arises unintentionally from the ordinary events of life <br />
to be far, far funnier than the more contrived humor of barbed observations. <br />
I'm the kind of person who collapses in laughter at headlines with inadvertent <br />
double meaning like 'Seven Foot Doctors Sue Hospital' or church bulletin blurbs <br />
like "In honor of Easter, Mrs. Jones will come forth and lay an egg on <br />
the altar." A writer has to write in his or her own voice, and if that <br />
includes using humor, I certainly would not suggest putting a damper on it. <br />
To thine own voice be true. "</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Rick Riordan, as a Sherlock Award Winner, Edgar Award Winner,
and Shamus Award Winner, doesn't seem to have much of a problem.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I think if you try to market the book as a comedic
mystery, you might run into trouble, unless your last name is Evanovich, but <br />
I haven't ever had my publisher complain that I was too funny. Complaints from <br />
my relatives -- that's another story. In any case, the Tres Navarre series tends <br />
to be fairly hardboiled, with comedy second, as a leavening agent. I'm mixing <br />
my cooking metaphors there, but what the heck."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Hayter agrees with Riordan.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Probably. I've heard that. But then, look at Evanovich."
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Mark Billingham's writing direction was geared around this
subject.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Sadly, I think that's true. You can count the number
of really successful, out and out comic crime novelists, on one hand. At the <br />
same time that I began what became my first novel, <strong>SLEEPYHEAD</strong>, <br />
I started working on a comic crime novel. I submitted the beginnings of both <br />
to a publisher and was told in no uncertain terms to ditch the funny one. This <br />
may, of course have been because it wasn't funny, but I was told that it was <br />
due to the fact that such books are enormously hard to sell and make publishers <br />
very nervous. That same year, at a crime-writing convention in the UK, there <br />
was a session called "Does Humour Hurt Your Sales Figures?". That <br />
pretty much made my mind up for me... "</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">With the natural way humor just oozes out of them, you'd
think at least <br />
a few were stand up comedians.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Bateman guffaws.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I was never even a stand up guy. The first time I
stood up in public was at my wedding. And the first time I agreed to a public <br />
reading, I hired an actor to do it. So I'm the typical anti-social hide in a <br />
room kind of a writer who lives vicariously through his characters. Or perhaps <br />
not entirely. I actually love doing readings now, because the feedback is good <br />
and people laugh a lot, so sometimes I feel like a stand up comedian, but I <br />
always have a script there in front of me, that's the difference."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Bill Fitzhugh was close, but no mic.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"No. I was in Seattle in the 1980's when the stand-up
comedy boom happened. I worked with a lot of stand up comedians there on various <br />
projects and I considered trying to put a stage act together for open mic night. <br />
But I could get stage fright just thinking about being in front of an audience <br />
trying to tell jokes. Oddly, I have no problem whatever (in fact I enjoy) getting <br />
up in front of crowds to talk about my books or writing in general."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Sean Doolittle and Malcolm Pryce were definite stand up
no's. Brian Wiprud also nixes that idea. "Not unless you count being on <br />
humor panels at mystery conventions, which requires some of the same skills, <br />
like playing to a live audience. But I would posit that the skills for being <br />
a good comedian aren't requisite for writing humor. Unlike comedians, humor <br />
writers generally aren't the "class clown." A comedian's techniques <br />
can be situational and character based, but it's a performance, with a visceral <br />
connection between him and the audience that makes it work. You don't have that <br />
audience connection sitting alone in front of your computer at 1 AM."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Ms. Munger takes the stand by not standing up.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"God, no. I loathe -- absolutely loath -- stand-up
comics. There is something utterly humiliating watching a person standing up <br />
in front of a crowd trying to be funny with a pre-packaged routine. It makes <br />
me cringe. I thought actors were needy for attention, but stand-up comedians <br />
are in a class of their own. There are only a handful of people who can pull <br />
it off successfully without getting mean or desperate or attacking the audience. <br />
Plus, I am definitely not organized or disciplined enough to pull off a comedy <br />
routine. It's too much work for me. I'd rather just be an off-the-cuff smart <br />
ass."</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Katy isn't one to hold back.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Rick Riordan reckons not in the stand up department.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I was the lead singer of a folk rock band back in
the eighties while I was in college. Does that count? I've been told I bore <br />
a striking resemblance to Tony Orlando. Except for that, no. If I could deliver <br />
one-liners that fast, I wouldn't be writing. The beauty of novels is that Tres <br />
Navarre always gets to use the comeback I wished I thought of at the time." <br />
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Sparkle Hayter, mais oui!</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"Yes, but I'm lazy so I prefer to be a sit-down comedian."
</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">Mark Billingham has had a varied background in theater and
writing.</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial" size="2">"I was, and I still am though I'm now gigging less
and less. I find, after a hard day at the coalface of contemporary crime fiction, <br />
that a few cheap dick jokes in an evening, works wonders. That said of course, <br />
those that read the books are usually less drunk than those that watch me do <br />
stand-up. And they tend not to throw things... "</font></p>
<p><font face="Arial"><font size="2">I've thrown a few books in my day, but never at the author.
And not at these authors, in particular. Their books go beyond entertainment. <br />
They can coax you away from a vexing day and, in many cases, teach you something <br />
about the big bad world to boot. Humor is a defense against the grief of life. <br />
Humor keeps us sane. Scientific studies have proven that when we laugh, there <br />
is an actual chemical change in our bodies that helps to ease pain and release <br />
stress. I say to them, thanks.</font></font></p>