Tag Archive for: Linda Rodriguez

On Buying Books—Or Not

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By Linda Rodriguez

A reader recently wrote to me to praise my most recent book,
Every Hidden Fear, and apologized for
having checked the book out of the library. I reassured her that there was no
need to apologize, but I know why these readers and others have felt this way.
A few authors have been very vocal on Facebook and other places about their
disgust at people using the library rather than purchasing their books. When
you add in the justifiable distress that most authors feel and express about
actual book piracy, which is usually of e-books, it might seem to readers that
there are a lot of angry authors out there. I don’t believe that’s the case, at
all.

I’m always happy to have readers check out my books from
their local libraries, and most authors I know feel the same way. I think the
authors who’ve exploded online about library copies cutting into their sales
numbers are few—and mostly new to the business. For many of us midlist authors,
library sales are quite an important part of our book-sale figures. Besides,
most of us were at one time nerdy kids who adored and made great use of their
libraries. Many of us are still big library users. Authors tend to love
libraries.
I have known experienced authors who became upset at
signings when presented with books that were purchased in used-book stores.
They usually are gracious to the reader, but complain about it to their fellow
authors later. And they have a point. The author and publisher receive nothing
from that used-book sale after the initial sale. Some readers are not aware of
this. Some are, but can’t afford to buy all of their books new, especially if
the book is only available in hardcover.
None of this behavior mentioned so far is piracy. Libraries
and used-book stores are legitimate outlets. Piracy, which usually involves
e-books, is when copies of a book are made available for free in the millions
on sites usually called torrent sites. These sites violate the copyright laws
and basically allow people to steal books. Aside from the damage this does to
publishers and authors, which can be substantial, it is fundamentally unethical
and dishonest behavior.

I don’t want my books pirated, and I don’t care how many
people tell me “all content should be free” or “it’s good exposure.” People can
die from exposure. My attitude is Don’t steal my books. But used-book
sales are not piracy. Those books were purchased once, much as library books
are, and with physical books, certainly, there’s a limit on how many times that
book can be checked out or sold before it gets ragged and must be discarded and
a new one bought. In the meanwhile, people are reading my books and enjoying
them and recommending them to friends and eventually, I hope, buying them new.
My books are only available in hardcover and e-book at the moment, and I know
the hardcover’s a big expense for students and folks on fixed incomes.
Libraries and used-book stores make it possible for them to find my books and
read them anyway.

However, I do think readers should be aware that used-book
store sales count nothing at all for the writer. Library sales do count, though
they are not figured in for the bestseller lists. And the way publishing works
right now, if a writer’s sales don’t continually climb—at a fairly steep
rate—that author will be dropped by the publisher after three to six books.
Even if all those books earned out their advances. Even if all those books had
stellar reviews and were nominated for awards. So if too many of an author’s
readers use libraries only and/or, especially, used-book stores to access their
books, that author and that series of books will disappear. The author may be able
to start a different series at a different publisher, but usually s/he will
have to take a pen name, making it difficult for fans to follow. Publishers
today seem to think every author should become a bestseller eventually—and
remember, neither library nor used-book sales count for that—and if s/he
doesn’t, the publishers lose interest in that author.
So, like the inimitable Neil Gaiman, I’ll happily sign
anything from anywhere. But I’d like readers to be aware that their choices
will affect whether or not their favorite authors are able to continue writing
their favorite books—or at all. But if, like my correspondents, you feel bad
because you simply can’t afford to buy a new book by a favorite author, don’t.
Just write a brief, thoughtful  review
and post it on Amazon or Good Reads or other reading community. That will mean
a great deal to the author and cost you nothing but a few minutes of your time.

What are your thoughts on this thorny issue?

*******
Linda Rodriguez’s third novel in the Skeet Bannion series, Every Hidden Fear (St. Martin’s Press), was a Latina Book Club Best Book of 2014, a selection of Las Comadres National Latino Book Club, and received an ArtsKC Fund Inspiration Award. Her second novel featuring the Cherokee campus police chief, Every Broken Trust (St. Martin’s Press), was a selection of Las Comadres National Latino Book Club, took 2nd Place in the International Latino Book Awards, and was a finalist for the Premio Aztlan Literary Award. Her first Skeet novel, Every Last Secret, won the Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel Competition and an International Latino Book Award Honorable Mention, was featured by Las Comadres National Book Club, and was a Barnes & Noble mystery pick. Her short story, “The Good Neighbor,” published in the anthology, Kansas City Noir, has been optioned for film.
  
Find her on Twitter as @rodriguez_linda, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LindaRodriguezWrites, and on blogs with The Stiletto Gang http: https://www.thestilettogang.com/, Writers Who Kill http://writerswhokill.blogspot.com/, and her own bloghttp://lindarodriguezwrites.blogspot.com

REPLIES TO COMMENTS (because Blogger hates me, and even though I managed to comment from another browser twice, now it won’t let me comment even that way–huge sigh):  Gee, Ritter, thanks! I don’t think I’ve been anyone’s hero in a while. 🙂

How Best to Support Your Favorite Writers and Make Sure the Books You Love keep Coming

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How Best to Support Your Favorite Writers and Make Sure the Books You Love Keep Coming by Linda Rodriguez

This is a piece I posted to Writers Who Kill a couple of years ago. I’m reposting it here because I think it has important information that I didn’t know until recent years and that others have since told me they also didn’t know. I’m also adding to this list “likes” and “tags” on Amazon and retweets about authors’ books. Nancy Cohen reminded me about these. I think I’d missed them because I was already doing all those.

The publishing business still offers a steep learning curve to me. However, some of the things I’ve learned as a published novelist are turning me into a better fan of my own favorite authors. I’ve written on here before about pre-ordering and how I learned of its importance to writers. Instead of waiting for the books of my favorite author to be published, I pre-order now, knowing I’m contributing to their success as well as assuring I’ll have their book as soon as it’s available.

I thought I was already helping with reviews. On my blog, www.LindaRodriguezWrites.blogspot.com, I try to spotlight books by literary writers of color who might be hard for the average reader to find, as well as mystery novelists who are writing high-quality fiction. I do this with profiles, interviews, and sometimes reviews of individual books. However, I’ve learned that reviews on Amazon and Goodreads count more toward sales than those longer ones on my blog or elsewhere.

I’ve always just given stars to books on Goodreads. I’ve read so many books that I didn’t think I had time for more than that. I was wrong. Those stars don’t do much good. It’s the reviews that make others decide to pick up the book to read. It’s the same with Amazon—reviews lead to sales. Even for authors who seem to have it made! Often even famous writers are just a breath or two away from tumbling down the slopes in the fickle game of publishing, and success is even more volatile for midlist authors. I try not to buy much on Amazon, so I’ve not done much except hit the ‘Like” button for a book/author I enjoy.

I’ve learned about how important these reviews can be to authors, and now I’ve set myself a goal to post a daily review of a novelist whose work I enjoy on either Amazon or Goodreads. I’m also going to learn how to link them so a review on my blog will post to Amazon or Goodreads. This is one thing I can do to make sure the writers I love don’t disappear on me.

I’ve always been a person others ask for book recommendations, primarily because I read so much in so many areas. Now that I’ve learned how important that word-of-mouth advice on books can be, I’ll be doing a lot more book recommendations and not just waiting for folks to ask me. I have occasionally requested my library system buy a book I want that they don’t have. Now, as soon as I know a book is coming out by one of my favorite writers, I will request my library system order that book—and my own pre-orders for those books will be through local bookstores because that helps them decide whether or not to order in that book to have on the shelves.

The publishing business is in deep flux right now, and authors are being required to do more than ever to promote their books. Every novelist I know, famous or unknown, is buried in a mountain of promotion efforts while still trying to write the books we fans love and wait for breathlessly. The influx of millions of ebooks by people who haven’t bothered to learn to be either good writers or good editors—and this is not meant to describe the many self-published writers who have worked hard at both—makes it hard for the potential buyer to find the writers who have worked for many years to hone their craft. Everything we, as fans of good writing in whatever genre, can do to make our favorite authors successful ensures that in the volatile atmosphere of publishing today these favorite novelists will survive and thrive—and continue providing us with our favorite addiction, their good books.

Do you know of other strategies we fans can do to help ensure the success of the book and authors we love?

Signal Boosting

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

I have piles of books sitting on my coffee table right now.
None of them are mine. Some of them are from people I know, even people I
consider dear friends. Many of them are from people I’ve never met and have
little connection with. Some are mysteries. Some are thrillers. Some are
literary fiction. Some are poetry. They all have one thing in common, though. I’m
planning to give their authors a signal boost in one way or another.

Today’s publishing environment is tough for authors in many
ways, but primarily in finding ways to bring the attention of readers to their
books. With the advent of easy self-publishing, everyone who finishes a
NaNoWriMo book can pop it up on Amazon with little or no editing, and amid the
flood of poorly prepared and written books, it can be difficult for the writer
who has put in the time, effort, and money to make their book the best it can possibly
be to let the potential reader know that hers/his is a good, high-quality book,
worth taking a chance on. The problem is the same for everyone, whether
self-published or traditionally published. It’s Gresham’s Law applied to books
rather than money—“Bad books drive out good.”

One helpful thing is for another author to lend a hand in
some way. Four of the books in those piles on my coffee table are books I’ve
agreed to blurb, that is, books for which I’ll write a short pithy review of
several sentences that will be placed on the cover of the book to entice
readers to pick it up. Blurbs can be terribly important. They help in getting
reviews and orders from bookstores, as well as in persuading browsing readers
to try the book. When I was starting out as a mystery novelist, established
writers volunteered to blurb my book, for which I will always be grateful. When
reviewers read brief raves from top writers, they became eager to review my
unknown debut novel. I try to pay that favor forward as much as I can within
the confines of time and scheduling. I’ve seen some writers who have benefited
from great blurbs by famous authors and then refuse to give blurbs to anyone
themselves. I can’t understand that attitude.

I have a blog, http://lindarodriguezwrites.blogspot.com,
and on it I have a long-running series called “Books of Interest by Writers of
Color.” I began that series as a resource for librarians and teachers who would
approach me after readings or conferences and ask for suggestions of books by diverse
writers. If it’s tough for all writers to get attention while buried in the
crowd, it’s nigh impossible for writers of color, who tend to be invisible in
modern American literature. I’ve been showcasing writers of color on my blog
for the past six years. Just a little way to pull an author or book out of the throng
and hold it up, saying, “This is good. Take a look.” The rest of the books on
my coffee table are books that I intend to signal-boost on my blog.

Like writing a blurb, this showcasing on my blog is
time-consuming. I could write an article or a good day’s pages on my current
novel or short story in the time I spend on reading, making notes, and writing
a blurb or review on my blog. So why would I bother?

I see the literary world as one large community and a set of
smaller communities, and I believe that building these communities and making
them stronger benefits all of us in the long run—writer and reader. I see my
work as all part of a spectrum, writing my books and poetry, writing my blogs, teaching
workshops, connecting with other writers and readers on social media, and
signal-boosting other writers who deserve attention. I believe we make the
world we want to have. And so the piles of books on my coffee table continue to
exist, no matter how many reviews or blurbs I write.

Do you believe in signal boosting? How do you feel when an
author often blurbs or praises another writer’s book to you? 

Linda Rodriguez’s third novel in the Skeet Bannion series, Every Hidden Fear (St. Martin’s Press), was
a Latina Book Club Best Book of 2014, a selection of Las Comadres National
Latino Book Club, and received an ArtsKC Fund Inspiration Award. Her second
novel featuring the Cherokee campus police chief, Every Broken Trust (St. Martin’s Press), was a selection of Las
Comadres National Latino Book Club, took 2nd Place in the
International Latino Book Awards, and was a finalist for the Premio Aztlan
Literary Award. Her first Skeet novel, Every
Last Secret, won the Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel
Competition and an International Latino Book Award Honorable Mention, was featured
by Las Comadres National Book Club, and was a Barnes & Noble mystery pick. Her
short story, “The Good Neighbor,” published in the anthology, Kansas City Noir, has been optioned for
film.

 

Find her on Twitter as @rodriguez_linda, on
Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LindaRodriguezWrites,
and on blogs with The Stiletto Gang http: https://www.thestilettogang.com/,
Writers Who Kill http://writerswhokill.blogspot.com/,
and her own blog http://lindarodriguezwrites.blogspot.com

REPLIES TO COMMENTS (because Blogger hates me, and even though I managed to comment from another browser twice, now it won’t let me comment even that way–huge sigh):


Paula, I write about a lot of different topics on my blog, but I’ve had a running series on Books of Interest by Writers of Color for 6 years. If you click on the tag “writers of color” on one of the latest posts, it will pull them all up to read.


Cyndi, I’m glad you agree and also signal boost. I’m always grateful for all of the writers who try to build the literary community they want to live in.

A Good Person to Murder

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

One of the secret benefits of writing crime novels and short
fiction is the chance to vicariously kill off people who have worked hard at
pissing you off. We’re seldom violent people, we mystery writers, even though
we write about murder and lesser crimes. We’re usually polite and kind to our
friends and family and gentle with kids and animals. If you know a lot of crime
writers, you know we’re mostly very nice people. I believe mystery and thriller
writers are the nicest group of writers there are, and I know a lot of various
kinds of writers.

My theory about all that niceness is twofold: Nice people
may just be drawn to write mysteries and thrillers, or we’re all so nice
because we have the chance to work off all our anger in our books. I know I’ve
been able to deal with a certain person’s nasty behavior in real life much more
easily since I wrote a scene where a similar character was mowed down by reams
of bullets in a classic gangland shooting.

For that matter, listening to mystery writers at a
professional conference talk at meals or in the bar can be scary for outsiders.
We swap good ways to murder, especially in ways that are difficult to prove, and
methods and places to dispose of bodies. I’ve watched waitresses and bartenders
stand back from a group of us with leery eyes as they overhear bits and pieces
of what must seem a violent conspiracy. I suspect the really troubling thing is
that all this morbid conversation is always full of great cheer and hilarity.

This ability to extract satisfying revenge on the page can
remove lots of resentment and hurt from our lives. That co-worker who goes
around behind everyone’s back, telling lies to stir up trouble in the workplace
that costs people their promotions or even their jobs—smash her over the head
with a fax machine. The senior faculty member who steals your research and
passes it off as his own, branding you as a pathetic liar when you protest—how about
rat poison in his coffee? The old schoolmate who made you a laughingstock at
the last reunion—have her hit and run over by a car. The guy who humiliated and
dumped you publicly after “borrowing” all your savings—let a crazed serial
killer catch up with him and slash him up. The ex-wife who cheated on you all
through your marriage and then took your house and kids to go off with someone
else—fake a suicide with a handgun to the head (that your smart detective will
see through immediately). The sexually harassing boss who threatens to destroy
your career if you complain or don’t let him have his slimy way with you—tie him
up naked for kinky sex and smother him with a pillow over his face.

So the next time you’re at a crime writers conference, look
around at all those sweet, funny, and kindly mystery authors and ask yourself, “Why
are these people smiling?”

What Makes a Friend?

/in /by


Friends used to be people you grew up with or worked with or
lived next door to, and of course, they still are. But friends are now also
people who live across the country from you whom you never worked with or went
to school with or even physically met. The internet has changed our lives in
that way, connecting us closely to people we never would have met in the old
days.

Some of my closest friends are people I only have a chance
to see once a year or so at a national conference. Still, we are in touch all
year long, and we give each other all kinds of support and real old-fashioned,
loyal friendship through the internet. Some of my good friends are people I
have never had the chance to meet in the flesh. We’ve done projects together,
set up funds for good causes together, carried each other’s sadness during hard
times, and confided secrets to each other, but our hands have never actually
touched.

I think this is one of the big changes that the internet
brought us—this kind of intimacy with someone 
we may never have the chance to meet physically. Yet is it so strange?
People are marrying people they meet online and building successful marriages
and families with them, so why wouldn’t we build strong, important friendships
that way also.

I’ve been thinking about this because a dear friend (whom I’ve
never physically met) is going through a tough time as her husband’s cancer has
come back and she has her own severe physical health issues. We have been there
for each other through deaths, surgeries, disability, and various cancers. She
has certainly been there for me, and I am trying to be there for her. Given her
situation and mine, we may never actually meet in person, though we have spoken
by phone, as well as Facebook, Twitter, and emails.

I suddenly find myself working on an anthology of poetry for
a great cause with a friend I’ve never met in the flesh, although we laugh
about the many things we have in common and wonder if we’re sisters somehow
separated—couldn’t be twins because I’m much older. Next month, I’m going to
stay with a friend whom I have met in person at a conference after making our
acquaintance by the internet—and keeping in touch the same way. We’ve become
closer and closer friends, even though we see each other once a year or less
often.

Each of these three women are people I count as dear
friends, closer than many people who live near me and whom I see often. They
are heart friends. I have some deep heart friends whom I’ve known for many
decades and see often, and then I have these deep heart friends whom I almost
never see. Neither category of heart friend is closer or more valued than the
other. It’s rare enough to make that kind of connection so I value it wherever I
find it.

So here’s to good, close friends, whether we’ve known them
forever and see them often or we’ve only met online. A sympathetic soul and a
heart connection are what matter when it comes to friendship, after all.

Do you have heart friends whom you’ve never or seldom seen
in the flesh? How do you think the internet is changing friendship?

Linda Rodriguez’s third novel featuring Cherokee detective Skeet
Bannion, Every Hidden Fear, was a
selection of the Las Comadres National Latino Book Club and received a 2014
ArtsKC Fund Inspiration Award. Her second Skeet mystery, Every Broken Trust, was a selection of Las Comadres National Latino
Book Club and a finalist for the Premio Aztlan, took 2nd Place in
the International Latino Book Award, and was selected for Latino Books into
Movies. Her first Skeet novel, Every Last
Secret, won the Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel
Competition, International Latino Book Award Honorable Mention, and was a
Barnes & Noble mystery pick.

Her short story, “The Good Neighbor,” which appeared in Kansas City Noir (Akashic Books), has
been optioned for film. For her books of poetry, Skin Hunger and Heart’s
Migration, Rodriguez received numerous awards and fellowship, including the
Thorpe Menn Award for literary excellence, the Midwest Voices and Visions
Award, the Elvira Cordero Cisneros Award, the 2011 ArtsKC Fund Inspiration
Award, and Ragdale and Macondo fellowships. She is chair of the AWP
Indigenous/Aboriginal American Writers Caucus, immediate past president of the
Borders Crimes chapter of Sisters in Crime, founding board member of Latino
Writers Collective and The Writers Place, and a member of Wordcraft Circle of
Native American Writers and Storytellers, Kansas City Cherokee Community, and
International Thriller Writers. Find her at http://lindarodriguezwrites.blogspot.com.

 

Seeds

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

I’m working on a new novel project that I find very
exciting. So as we begin this new year, I thought I’d give you a taste of the
original journal entry that led to this project. These words were seeds that
have grown into a sapling that’s on its way to major tree. As is the way of
seeds, these seeds don’t look much like the sapling and will resemble the grown
tree even less, but this is what the absolute beginning looks like.

Living on the surface,
focusing on externals and other people’s needs, instead of the internal world
of images, ideas, imagination, that is my home when working well. And it takes
some time after an external surface period with others to regain that internal
world and its productive state for creative work.

I wonder if Persephone
encountered something similar in trying to adjust to her mother’s above-ground
world and her abductor-husband’s dark underworld of the dead, cycling between
life and death, between worlds, bringing life to the world above when she came
and taking it away when she left. I wonder if she did the same to Hades’
kingdom, bringing light and life when she came and taking it back when she left
for the surface. If so, no wonder he kidnapped and trapped her.

Thinking about it that
way, you can almost have sympathy for Hades. That longing for light and life
and warmth that he has never known because the moment he touches a mortal, no
matter how alive and beautiful, she turns stiff and cold with all the life and
life and substance gone. After centuries of that, he would become desperate
enough to chance the anger of the other gods, even that of Zeus himself, to
have his own bit of life, warmth, light, beauty.

Imagine an epic poem
written about Hades’ abduction of 
Persephone, the angry grief of Demeter, the trick with the pomegranate
when Zeus forces a truce, and Persephone weaving back and forth between life
and death, the sunlit world above and the realm in darkness below the surface,
mother and captor/husband, always bringing light and life below and trailing
vapors of darkness and death above, never truly one or the other since Hades
tricked her into that bite of pomegranate, never completely alive or dead,
always outside and forced to mediate between two tyrants who would destroy
their worlds and all within if they lost her.

Perhaps after eons,
someone, perhaps Prometheus on his eagle-high rock, tells her that this all
works only because she unconsciously assented to it. If she decides to
consciously say no to the deal, she can choose to be one or the other, her
mother’s or her husband’s. “Or neither?” she asks. He doesn’t know, that would
take some special working, to make a choice that included neither Demeter nor
Hades, as it would probably bring about the destruction of both worlds.

So Persephone begins
to spend her time in each world searching for someone who can show her a way
out of the dilemma she’s impaled upon. And this will mark the beginning of her
coming to truly know each world and its people, out from under the powerful
shadows of mother and husband. In the process, she comes to love and value each
world and those in it and to find that she can be free only with the probable
destruction of each creation.

I’m writing a novel and not an epic poem, and many other
characters have and are coming into play. But this little fragment from my
journal was the seed from which this much-transformed book is growing.

I hope you plant a lot of wonderful seeds—and even some
strange ones—in this new year.

A Real Murderer and a Dog Hero

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

I write murder mysteries for a living. My Skeet Bannion
mystery series (Every Last Secret, Every Broken Trust, and Every Hidden Fear) is set in the greater
Kansas City metropolitan area. For these books, I make up crimes and murderers
entirely out of my imagination, but I have had real experience with a murderer
in my life.

When I was a young mother pregnant with my second child
while my first baby was about eight months old, we lived in a small rental
house and behind us stood an old two-story apartment building while next door
the land sloped away to a small woods before ending below us in a busy urban
street. One weekend before I was pregnant with that second baby, my husband and
I arrived home from a weekend visit with relatives to discover a dog in
terrible condition that had been apparently dumped at the woods edge of our
yard.

A pale yellow mix of probably golden Labrador and some kind
of hound, this dog had all four of his legs pulled up to his head and was
trussed with a flea collar that had been fastened around all four legs and his
neck before he was thrown out of a car. We assumed they were aiming for the
woods, but the dog was heavier than the unknown villains thought and landed
short of the woods in our yard. The poor dog had obviously struggled, and the
flea collar with its poisons had cut through the flesh of his neck and two of
his legs. The poisons of the collar were entering the bloodstream there,
turning the bloody flesh a greenish tinge. It didn’t seem he would have much
chance of survival.

We were desperately poor and had no car and no money for a
vet, even if we’d had some way to carry a large dog to one. But I couldn’t let
the poor dog die without at least trying to help him. My husband was sure the
dog would bite me, but I had lots of experience at doctoring animals and believed
after looking into his eyes that this dog knew I was going to help him. I sent
my husband for scissors, hydrogen peroxide, and clean cloths from my rag pile.
Then, talking to the dog the whole time to keep him calm, I cut through the
flea collar and freed him from it. He lay there, limp as if he’d given up, but
gave me a look of gratitude and licked my hand when I put it near his head.
Next, I had to clean out his wounds with the peroxide, and that was painful.
The poor guy just whined and whimpered but never offered me any hostility as I
had to hurt him. Once I had him cleaned up, I had my husband, who was still
afraid of him, carry him up to the house where I made the injured dog a bed.
And over the next several weeks, I cared for him as he healed, always carrying
scars from his ordeal.

We called the unprepossessing fellow Plain, short for Just
Plain Dog. Plain became a cheerful, loving member of our family. This was in
the days when all people let their dogs roam free, but Plain stayed near home
most of the time. The only exception was when the mailman came on his rounds.
He would park at our house to start his route and had asked if Plain could
accompany him. Plain kept all the other dogs at bay while the postman did his
job, and at the end of the route, when they arrived back at our house, the
mailman gave him a treat and told me what a good dog he was. I knew that, of
course.

Then I was pregnant again, and it was summer. Most days
after I finished my housework, I’d set up the playpen out in the yard, put my
baby in it and sit beside her with a book, Plain curled at my feet. Often, we
saw a young man passing on his way to meet his girlfriend in the apartment
house behind us. I’d met her a few times, and we’d talked about books and men.
I liked her, and he seemed nice, always nodding or waving as he passed. The
last time I talked with her, she mentioned they’d had an argument and she’d
broken up with him. She also said he always talked her into taking him back,
but she wouldn’t fall for that this time. So when I saw him heading her way
again a few days later, I hid a smile. Obviously, he’d once again talked her
out of the breakup.

After almost an hour, he returned, this time rushing through
our yard, looking distraught and angry. When I saw him, my first thought was
that they’d had another fight. He stopped inside my yard, staring at me in a
strange way, as if he hadn’t expected to see us there. Suddenly, Plain began to
growl and rose to stand in front of me as the young guy came toward the baby
and me. Plain never barked but obviously set himself to spring on the young
man, growling ferociously the whole time. I had never seen this side of my
sweet dog. The guy apparently thought twice about approaching us and headed
back toward the apartment house, returning shortly in his girlfriend’s green
MG, roaring down the street past us with Plain now barking loudly, as well as
growling. I calmed him down once the car disappeared around a corner, and he
once again became my sweet Plain.

Imagine my surprise when the homicide detectives came around
later that day. My neighbor had been raped and murdered by her ex-boyfriend
just before he tried to cross my yard in his getaway. The detectives thought he
probably would have killed me so I couldn’t tell anyone I’d seen him there that
day if Plain hadn’t been there to drive him off. They had a huge manhunt for
him, and he was eventually found in another state and arrested. He killed
himself in jail before he could come to trial.

Perhaps the seeds of my mysteries were laid that day with
the everyday mundane suddenly turning ominous and violent. But one thing I know
is that my dear Just Plain Dog had most likely saved my life and my unborn
son’s and maybe my little daughter’s, as well. Plain had a long, happy life with
us ahead of him, and when his time to leave us finally came, he was surrounded
by my husband, the two children he’d saved, and me, all weeping inconsolably at
losing our loyal friend.

Every dog I’ve ever had since then has always been a rescue,
usually one on death row at the pound. There is no loyalty and companionship
I’ve found like that a rescue dog will give to you. That’s why I gave my
protagonist Skeet Bannion a rescue collie named Lady and a rescue cat named
Wilma Mankiller.

Redemption Stories

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

I’ve been thinking of redemption narratives lately—plots where
someone, usually a charismatic male character, who has been of dubious morality
redeems himself, quite often as an act of love for a major female character.
Redemptions plots are powerful storylines that crop up in every genre—literary,
mystery/thriller, science fiction, fantasy, adventure, western, and of course,
romance.

Dickens’ Tale of Two
Cities is the major redemption story of the debauched wastrel lawyer,
Sidney Carton, redeeming his sins by sacrificing himself to save an innocent
man, all from his overwhelming love for Lucie Manette. On a more recent note—and
in another genre altogether—in Buffy the
Vampire Slayer, evil vampire Spike loves Buffy so deeply that he seeks out
a sorcerer to bring back his soul and all the torments of the damned that come
with it, redeeming himself and sacrificing himself at the end of the series to
save the world so that Buffy won’t have to. 
In many mysteries and thrillers,
alcoholic or disgraced protagonists and major characters make sacrifices,
including the ultimate one, in an effort to redeem themselves. Lawrence Block’s
entire masterful Matthew Scudder series is the story of an alcoholic ex-cop’s continuing
search for redemption after he causes the death of a young girl.
  

The sinner who repents his sin and sacrifices himself in
some way to try to make amends has been an enduring and powerful narrative
throughout history. As writers, we probably don’t make use of it as often as we
should. I’m a big believer in hope, and a redemption story offers a sense of
hope, even when there are no real survivors at the end. If someone has sacrificed
in an attempt at redemption, all has not been lost.

I look around sometimes after listening, almost in despair, to
the news and think that’s what we need more of in this country, true redemption
narratives—people willing to make real sacrifices to make amends for the wrongs
they’ve committed. Instead we have people who won’t even admit they’ve done
wrong when they kill someone.

Do you have favorite novels or other kinds of stories that
are redemption plots?

Why I Can’t “Get a Sense of Humor” about Racist Jokes

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

UPDATE: Handler has come out with a real apology that acknowledges the racist content of his remarks and is now matching the next $10,000 donated to the #WeNeedDiverseBooks fundraiser. https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/we-need-diverse-books

I congratulate him on actually dealing with what he did.
—————————————————————————–

Wednesday night, the National Book Awards took place, and a multiple-New-York-Times
bestseller and hugely successful white male author of children’s books, Daniel
Handler (aka Lemony Snicket), was the host. During the course of the night, he
made several racist jokes, including bemoaning the fact that he hadn’t won a
Coretta Scott King Award (for African American children’s book writers or
children’s literature showcasing African American life–both categories together
make up less than 3% of the field), calling two African American nominees for
the award in poetry “probable cause,” and topping off his whole night of
micro-aggressions with a major watermelon joke directed at African American
writer, Jacqueline Woodson, winner of the award in children’s literature.

Here’s the entire event on C-Span. You’ll find the
watermelon joke just after the 40-minute mark.

The New York Times, Publishers Weekly, NPR, and a number of
other mainstream news outlets covered the awards the next morning and
complimented Handler’s performance as emcee without ever mentioning any of these
remarks. Just as the overwhelmingly affluent white audience laughed and
applauded.

Not surprisingly, people of color and white people of good
conscience were upset by Handler’s behavior at one of the most prestigious book
award ceremonies in the United States. Articles and blogs were written. Twitter
came alive over it. Finally, Handler apologized on Twitter with the usual non-apology—“my
failed attempt at humor.” People rightly asked, “In what world are these things
supposed to be funny?”

Then, the defenders came out. Online comment after comment
after tweet after Facebook post after blog post of “What’s the big deal?”,
“race-baiting,” “Get a sense of humor.” I’m used to them. We all are. Every time someone wealthy, famous, and white (and
usually male) says or does something racist or misogynist, the defenders come
out in force with these same comments. The comments include many that are much
worse and sometimes downright foul, but I won’t detail those here because
they’re from real trolls, while I think the comments I have listed are
sometimes, at least, from people who genuinely don’t see or understand the
racist or misogynistic content of the controversial remarks.

People try to explain why these remarks are a problem. I know I have many times. Usually
without success. Perhaps it will help if I spell it out this time, looking at
the watermelon joke, which caused the most uproar because Handler dragged it
out for several minutes and included Cornel West, Toni Morrison, and Barack
Obama. Woodson is a gifted young writer who has twice before been a finalist
for this ultimate award. Winning it should have been a pinnacle point for her entire
career. At that moment, this wealthy, successful, white male writer in her own specific
field (children’s literature) reminded her publicly that, no matter how much
she achieved, she would always be Other and lesser in his and everyone else’s
eyes.

When you face these kinds of insults and injuries in little
and big ways every day—even if the people who say or do them are truly unaware
of the offense (and let’s be honest, they usually know quite well)—it takes a
toll on you. Then, if you object, if you try to say, “This is wrong,” others
who share the offender’s views tell you not to take it so seriously—“Get a
sense of humor.”

I want to turn that back on them. To all those people who
think it’s funny to insult and stereotype people of other backgrounds and
genders, you get a sense of humor. Learn what’s really funny and not just cruel
and embarrassing and referencing for fun traumas that have been inflicted on
whole peoples. Grow some intelligence and wit, instead of making watermelon jokes
when someone wins one of the highest awards in the American literary world.

REPLIES TO COMMENTS (because Blogger hates me):

Thanks, Pam. Aren’t you getting tired of these idiotic things, too? 

Mary, when they call me ‘humorless,’ I just ask them how something like this can be called humor.

Yes, Kay, it was very belittling. And one would hope that we were further advanced than that by now. Unfortunately, not.

Cormac McCarthy Loves My Dog

/in /by
by Linda Rodriguez

I’m a big rescue-animal person. I’ve had rescue dogs and
cats all my adult life. When I’ve lost a dog to the cancers and other
vicissitudes of old age, always a heartbreaking situation, I go looking for a
replacement in the dogs on death row—those scheduled for euthanasia. I have
found so many wonderful dogs in this way.

I’m thinking about this because next week is the adoption anniversary
of our current dog, Dyson. Five years ago this fall, we had lost our
much-beloved sixteen-year-old Husky-Sharpei, who’d been adopted at seven on what
was supposed to be the last day of her life and given us so many more wonderful
years. After grieving for a month, we began looking online at the adoptable
dogs of local shelters. Hearing that the Kansas City Animal Shelter was
overcrowded, we decided to go visit and adopt one of their desperate dogs
slated for death.

I walked into the shelter the week before Thanksgiving with
certain criteria in mind. I wanted an older female dog who was already
housebroken and calm. I knew older dogs were harder to find homes and figured I’d
be able to choose among several older females. No stubborn, rambunctious, untrained
young males for me. I was no longer the young, strong woman who had trained
such dogs years before.

As luck would have it, someone showed us an emaciated, big,
male dog with a strange brindle coat, starved and sad-eyed, who was scheduled
for euthanasia the next day. He walked placidly for me on the leash and looked
at us without hope. My husband and I were hooked by those big sad eyes. Even when
we were informed that he had heartworm, which costs hundreds of dollars to
treat, we weren’t dissuaded and signed up to adopt him that day, all the time
telling ourselves how crazy this was. As we signed papers and laid down money,
people who worked at the shelter began to filter into the office. “Are you the
folks taking Dyson?” they would ask, and then shake our hands and thank us,
telling us what a good dog he was. Then, we found out he was less than a year
old, big as he was—and that he was a breed of dog we’d never heard of before,
the Plott hound.

Dyson, who should have weighed at least 70 pounds at that
time, was so starved that he weighed less than 40 pounds. (The first photo is
of him then, the later photo of him now.) He had never been neutered and never
been in a house, we discovered. We would have to keep this long-legged creature
crated for weeks at first because of the heartworm treatment. If he became too
active, he could have a stroke. What possessed us to continue and sign up for
this dog, I can’t begin to understand.


Thus, began my education in the dogs Cormac McCarthy calls “the
ninja warriors of dogdom” and of whom he says, “They are just without fear.” Developed
by a German immigrant family (from whom they get their name) in the Great Smoky
Mountains who never sold any outside of the family until after World War II,
Plott hounds are the state dog of North Carolina. They were bred for centuries
as trackers and hunters of bear. They are practically triple-jointed and can perform
acrobatic feats while avoiding the claws of huge bears they have brought to
bay. They are highly valued by big game hunters all over the world, who pay
thousands of dollars for trained Plott hounds to use to hunt bear, cougars, and
other large predators.

We don’t hunt. While on a leash for walks, Dyson constantly
charges into the hedges and emerges with a big possum or feral cat in his
mouth, which we’ll make him drop—always uninjured since he has the softest
mouth. Other things we’ve discovered about Plotts are that they are extra-smart
and yet goofy and playful. And so he is. Also, loyal, affectionate, protective,
and he loves fibers and textiles, often in early days pulling my knitting out without
harming it and lying before it confused at why he couldn’t do what Mommy does
with those sticks.

Though he was the opposite of the placid, female, older dog
we wanted, Dyson has been the perfect dog for us, always a source of fun and
joy. And the inevitable mischief that a young, boisterous male (for once he
regained his health, he regained his personality) commits is a small price to
pay for the love he shows when he lays his massive head in my lap and looks at me
with love in his big, now-happy eyes.

Happy birthday to His Majesty Dyson the Toy King Sweetie Boy
Rodriguez-Furnish!


REPLY TO COMMENTS (because Blogger bah!):

Lil, you’re right. He was the dog we needed. We’ve often thought our late, lamented Mina was guiding that choice of her replacement.

Blogger still won’t let me comment.