September Six Questions Schedule

Jim Harrington's Six Questions For blog has scheduled next month's interviews. Here's the list:

Below is the schedule of posts for September at Six Questions For. . . . http://sixquestionsfor.blogspot.com/

9/01—Six Questions for Sam, Editor, Spilt Milk Magazine
9/05—Six Questions for Anne M. Stickel, Editor, Black Petals
9/08—Six Questions for Gay Degani, Editor, Flash Fiction Chronicles
9/12—Six Questions for Tyler Gobble, Editor, Stoked Journal
9/15—Six Questions for Kristin Ginger, Editor, YoYoMagazine
9/19—Six Questions for Dena Rash Guzman, Editor, Unshod Quills
9/22—Six Questions for Doc O'Donnell, Senior Editor, Dirty Noir
9/26—Six Questions for Bjorn Wahlstrom, Owner/Editor, H.A.L. Publishing
9/29—Six Questions for Meredith E. Torre, Editor, Bumble Jacket Miscellany

I Tremble For My Country

This morning CNN.com posted a story about a Syrian cartoonist who was kidnapped, beaten, and threatened.  His abductors broke his hands as a warning to stop drawing.  He's now in the hospital. The story is here.
The story is horrible and a reminder to anyone reading that "freedom isn't free."  What's even more horrifying, though, are the comments.  There's the guy who thinks the story is made up. There's the guy who uses his comment to rag on "Shrillery Clinton." I read through dozens of comments and there were very few addressing the actual subject of the story--Ali Ferzat, a brave and idealistic man. Comment after comment spewing rage and bile and toxic ichor.  Comparing Obama to Hitler.
(Seriously?  Hitler?  Really?)
I'm particularly horrified by this display of  hate because two days ago, when CNN.com ran a story about a woman in dire financial straits, the story elicited almost 500 comments.  Most of them were of the "Poor woman, how can I help? variety, but a lot were ugly.  For some reason the one I found most damnable was an accusation that she probably had enough money to support her two-pack-a-day cigarette habit.  (Nowhere in the article did it mention that she smoked.) 
I know, I shouldn't be surprised by this, but I still am.  The utter conviction in these posts is as predictable as the bad spelling and specious arguments.  The people who write these posts are registered to vote. And there are more of them than me.

I've been Zombiefied!

Thanks to Christopher Grant and Peter Mark May who first got me thinking about zombies, I've now written a couple of stories about Zees.  One of them, "Dead Letter," which Christopher first published on Eaten Alive, has been accepted in the upcoming anthology Zombiefied.
Publisher is Sky Warrior Books. Planned pub date is October 1. More information as I have it. 

Pardon My French

About a month ago, I suddenly decided that I simply had to translate some of my stories into French. I decided to pick a couple of my fantasies because I am very fond of a French-language fantasy site and thought that I might be able to link up with them for a promotional hit or two.
My French is nowhere near fluent enough to translate anything more complicated than, "My name is Katherine." Fortunately, though, the talented Pauline Pangon agreed to do the work for a price that wouldn't zotz out my budget.
I am thrilled by the result but also bemused because who knew there were so many phrases in English that don't have exact French counterparts?  Pauline has been incredibly resourceful in finding French substitutions, and we're working on refining the material as I look for images I can give to Joy Sillesen in hopes she will design the cover for me.
As I read over what Pauline's done, I'm reminded again of what a lovely language French is.
Here is the opening of "The Smallest of the Summoner's Bells" in French.

Appelez ça hasard.

Appelez ça fatalité, destin, ou encore  karma.

Appelez ça comme vous voulez, mais quand cet adolescent trop hâlé a passé ma porte avec ce petit bout d'or prodigieux en main, j'y ai vu d'emblée l'opportunité d'une superbe cerise sur le gâteau. 

And here it is in English: 

You could call it coincidence.

You could call it fate or destiny or karma.

You could call it any number of things but when the too-tan teenager walked through my door with that little scrap of fairy gold, I saw it for what it really was, a big tasty slice of opportunity pie.

SinC25--the Fifth and Final (for now) Shout-out to Women Crime Writers

In Game of Thrones, John Snow asks Tyrion Lannister why he's always reading. "A mind needs books," he says, "like a sword needs a whetstone."
Writers need to read or their writing gets stale.
My parents refused to allow us to read comic books (we'd sneak them at friends' houses) but encouraged us to read anything else that struck our fancy. The result was that I turned into an omnivorous reader, devouring both good and bad books without judgment. 
When I discovered I could make a living as a "reader" for the movie industry, I felt like I'd been given my heavenly reward early. "I get paid to read books," I told my relatives, who kept asking me what my "real job" was.

Fourth Post in Praise of Women Crime Writers

Patricia Cornwell, creator of the Kay Scarpetta mysteries used to live in Richmond, Virginia. The first novel in the series, Postmortem, is based on a notorious real-life serial killer case that had Richmond connections. (The Killer was Known as the Southside Strangler) In both the book and real life, the killer was a strangler. In real life, he was a "secreter" and it was DNA that did him in.  (It was the first time the Commonwealth of Virginia successfully used DNA in a legal case to prove the identity of an assailant.) There were some interesting things about the real-life case. The killer was a black man who crossed racial lines with his victims, which is unusual.  One of the victims was a young Asian-American girl, another was a 35-year-old white woman named Debbie Davis.
I knew Debbie Davis. She worked at Richmond Style Weekly with me in the late 80s. She was the only child of parents who had been older when she was born and her death just about killed them too. Remember Fred Goldman's emotionally blasted response to his son's death? Multiply that by ten.

SinC25 #3--Women Crime Writers

I used to work for a now-defunct weekly newspaper called the L.A. Reader. I was a general assignment reporter there, which meant I covered everything from hearings on mosquito abatement policies (just as fascinating as it sounds) to best Halloween costumes.
Occasionally, I snagged a crime story. The last crime-related story I covered was a report on a very special meeting of the local Parents of Murdered Children group.  They were meeting with the state's Attorney General and they had some questions to ask and some bones to pick.
One of the attendees was Dominique Dunne's mother Ellen.  (Dominique would have been 52 now. Next year will be the 30th anniversary of her death.)
Ellen Dunne died in 1997 and this was a decade earlier than that and she was already extremely frail and wheelchair-bound. She must have been a great beauty in her youth and even pain-ravaged and grief-stricken, she had an immense presence.

I sat through the meeting, listening to the parents tell their stories and listening to the Attorney General try to deflect their anger.  "The man who killed my son did five years," one man said. "Why shouldn't I kill him?  I can do five years standing on my head." The room was  not with the AG when he pompously suggested that would be a bad idea.
I was not a great crime writer and this experience was actually the one that soured me on reporting news. I switched to features and then I switched to fiction and I've never really looked back.
But that doesn't mean I don't love true crime.  I'm not as avid about it as my friend Berkeley, but a well-written crime story is a thing of beauty.  And the queen of that is ...

EDNA BUCHANAN.  Edna Buchanan wrote for the Miami Herald and covered thousands of crimes.  She was tough, smart, and savvy.  And she was GLAMOROUS.  Even now, as a woman of une certain age, she's got it going on. 
She won a Pulitzer for general reporting in 1986 and a slew of other awards for both her crime reporting and her fiction. I've never read any of her novels but I loved both The Corpse Had a Familiar Face and Never Let Them See You Cry, her memoirs about working the crime beat. The late, great Elizabeth Montgomery starred in several television movies based on these non-fiction books and she copied Buchanan's signature look of touseled hair and big sunglasses. (See the above photo.) You can download Buchanan's short story "Red Shoes" from Mary Higgins Clark's mystery magazine here.