Down In The Hole

New Digs

2010-05-11T16:47:00.005+10:00

Looking over my well-worn and semi-retired Blogger blog, it’s painfully easy to notice that I haven’t posted in almost one year. And before that, the posting was pretty damned infrequent.

I could blame work, moving house, travelling overseas, not writing, not making music, spending too much time playing computer games, drinking too much absinthe … but only one of these would be true.

Yeah, you got me. It was the absinthe.

Rather than trying to force discipline onto my inconsistent personality, I thought it might be easier to start a new blog at some new digs.

Same name as the old one, same guy writing. Here’s hoping he writes more.

From now on, you can find me over at www.danielhatadi.com.

You Call That A Book Launch? THIS Is A Book Launch.

2009-06-03T12:27:00.004+10:00

Big Daddy's doing a Booze And Bands Book Launch for SEX, THUGS AND ROCK & ROLL, the latest Thuglit anthology (which includes a story by the bald headed guy all over this page). Jason Starr, Justin Porter, Sarah Weinman, Patrick Lambe and Big Daddy Thug himself are all going to do readings from the book before they stage dive into the mosh pit.

I'd be there, but I'm half way across the globe and I've gotta see a man about a dog.

Details in the flyer above.

If you're scared of bricks and mortar, you can grab a copy of the book from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Powells, Indiebound or Kensington.

SEX, THUGS AND ROCK & ROLL is now available

2009-05-18T16:03:00.000+10:00

Smack bang in the middle of a fine collection of thuggery related literature is my story, BUDDHA BEHIND BARS. It's my first publishing credit so I'm celebrating by dehydrating a bottle of Johnnie Walker and snorting it off the belly of ... okay, I'm just having a glass of Coke. But still, I'm hoping this will kick my arse on to a chair and force me to write some more.

With an intro penned by Sarah Weinman, followed by a love letter from Big Daddy Thug, the collection includes stories from the broken keyboards of Patricia Abbott, Jonas Knutsson, Jedidiah Ayres, Justin Porter, Albert Tucher, Joe R. Landsdale, Scott Wolven, D.T. Kelly, Marcus Sakey, Steven M. Messner, Hugh Lessig, Lyman Feero, Gary Carson, Matthew Baldwin and Jason Starr.

The faint of heart and the high of morals need not apply.

I'm Back

2008-10-21T22:43:00.003+11:00

And I've been back for a number of weeks.

Something that happens when you're away from constant internet access for a decent length of time is that you have a lessened desire to get back to the internet. So since I came back to Sydney I've been slowly ramping up my internet usage. It feels like it will never again reach the heady heights of my initial excursions into blogging and social networking.

And I have plenty of guitar to play, so don't expect me around so much. It's a little more than hibernation.

Of course, every time I say something like this I tend to indulge in a short burst of posts, so there's every chance you can look forward to some of my travel notes from New York and Los Angeles.

Anyway, I'm back.

A Half-Life Long Dream Achieved!

2008-09-10T17:44:00.009+10:00

Remember when I talked about my desires for a National Steel guitar? The kind of guitar that costs whole yearly salaries to ship to the sunburnt shores of Australia?

Well, in the last couple of days, I discovered to my absolute and goose-pimple-inducing delight that I could purchase one of these beautiful beasts for about half the price I would expect in my home country.

So, I did it.

I'm sorry, Mary, but there's a new love in my life.

Arrggghhh, grrrlll, drooooool ....

Gone Fishin'

2008-09-01T18:40:00.005+10:00

It's pretty easy for three weeks to pass without my posting here, but I just thought I'd let you all know ... I'm going overseas for three weeks. New York and Los Angeles to be exact. I'll definitely be meeting some of the people that have read this blog for the very first time and I hope to meet a few others too. Like these guys.

Have fun, all. Don't break the place while I'm gone.

Around The Traps

2008-08-25T11:02:00.003+10:00

Sure, I've been in hibernation, I've been having all of my creative juices sucked out of me by a ludicrous amount of over-engineering and lack of communication at my workplace, but I've still kept my nose to the screen.

Time for some bullets.

Stephen Blackmoore has himself an agent in the shape of one Allan Guthrie. I'd like to think it was because of my amazing work in critiquing Stephen's novel, but I know it's all on his own back.
Patrick Shawn Bagley's gone and done it too, with some firm that's based in some city called "New York".
Murdaland is dead. I'd like to know who shot them, but I have a feeling it just was what it was.
Jason Starr and Ken Bruen are launching their new collaboration, THE MAX, in New York. I'm going to be there, even if I'll have to rush off to catch Tricky on the same night.
Christa M. Miller has a new short story up over at Mouth Full Of Bullets. Go read it before you get some yourself.

That'll do for now. Back to the hard slog.

The Lineup: Poems On Crime, Issue 1 Out Now

2008-07-09T10:17:00.004+10:00

"...every word has purpose: to plant clues, reveal character, move toward resolution."
Gerald So

Edited by Gerald So of Thrilling Detective, with Patrick Shawn Bagley, R. Narvaez, and Anthony Rainone.

Including the hard-hitting poets Patrick Shawn Bagley, Ken Bruen, Sarah Cortez, Graham Everett, Daniel Hatadi, Daniel Thomas Moran, R. Narvaez, Robert Plath, Misti Rainwater-Lites, Stephen D. Rogers, A.E. Roman, Sandra Seamans, Gerald So, KC Trommer.

Now available in paperback from Lulu.com and Murder By the Book (Houston, TX)

Get the lowdown at poemsoncrime.blogspot.com

News From Around The Interweb

2008-06-16T10:21:00.007+10:00

Sure, I'm still firmly entrenched in hibernation mode, watching lots of episodes of The Outer Limits and drinking a responsible amount of absinthe, but that doesn't mean I don't have at least one eye to the cyber playground commonly referred to as "the internet."

Spinetingler magazine has just put out its Summer 2008 issue, which of course confuses me and my Antipodean biological clock (it's winter here, dammit!). Still, with fiction of all lengths (as long as they're short) coming from the likes of Patti Abbott, Amra Pajalic, Stephen D. Rogers, Allan Guthrie, Steve Mosby, Tony Black, Brian Lindenmuth, Grant McKenzie, John McFetridge, you're sure to have some chills regardless of climate.
Demolition is another fine zine that has the same need for seasonal confusion, but much more in the self-destructive noir mould. Go thou and read now some fine stories from Justin Porter, Stephen Blackmoore, William Dylan Powell and John Kenyon.
The Lineup, crime poetry collection extra-ordinaire, is gearing up for launch Real Soon Now. Click away and look forward to some poetry from the likes of Ken Bruen, Patrick Shawn Bagley, Ken Bruen, Sarah Cortez, Graham Everett, Daniel Hatadi, Daniel Thomas Moran, R. Narvaez, Robert Plath, Misti Rainwater-Lites, Stephen D. Rogers, A.E. Roman, Sandra Seamans, Gerald So, and KC Trommer. You saw my name in that list, didn't you? Well, get to it then.
I should have blogged about this a tad sooner but winter hibernation kicked in early: For those of you that live in the same sunburnt and overcast country as me, you may want to get your car in order to Rouse Hill Town Centre for An Evening Of Crime with Aussie crime authors Sydney Bauer, Kathryn Fox and Katherine Howell. Details below.

Dymocks Rouse Hill and Vinegar Hill Memorial Library present “An Evening of Crime” with Sydney Bauer, Kathryn Fox and Katherine Howell. Don’t miss this opportunity to meet three successful crime authors face to face and answer those questions you always wanted to ask.

Their books will also be available for purchase and signing.

Sydney Bauer has written 3 riveting legal thrillers –Undertow, Gospel and Alibi. Undertow was recently announced as the winner of the coveted Sisters In Crime Davitt Award under the main category of Best Crime Novel.

Kathryn Fox is the award winning author of internationally acclaimed forensic thrillers, Malicious Intent, Without Consent, and Skin and Bone. “Malicious Intent is the most exciting crime fiction released in Australia for a long time”.

Katherine Howell’s first book Frantic was released in May 2007 to rave reviews and will
be published internationally in 2008/2009. Her second book, The Darkest Hour, has just
been released.

Location: Vinegar Hill Memorial Library
Rouse Hill Town Centre
Rouse Hill, NSW
Date: 17th June,2008
Time: 7.30-9.00pm
Cost: $5
Bookings Essential: (02) 8889 5200

Hibernating With The Green Fairy

2008-06-10T15:38:00.005+10:00

With this blog nearing its fourth birthday, I find myself less and less inclined to post.

Generally when I have an interesting topic of discussion centring around crime fiction, I'd much rather keep the booze flowing over at CrimeSpace by posting it in the forum. So this particular spot on the web has become more of a news list than something with regular meaty content.

Before your heart attacks you, don't worry, I'm not closing the blog down. But I do seem to be shifting into my regular wintry hibernation, just like the big teddy bear that I really am.

To explain further, interests not involving the internet--at least the crime fiction part of it--have been happily taking up brain space over at Casa Hatadi's Cranium Lounge & Bar.

Having recently purchased a respectable amount of camera gear, I've been teaching myself the digital photographic ropes. You can witness the constant fruits of these efforts in the sidebar under Photografia, or go straight to my Flickr account to stalk me over there.

The other interest that has taken up the full services of my liver and brain has been that of The Green Fairy known as absinthe. This has tied in with writing, over at my Absinthe-Minded Journal. Behind the scenes I have also been very slowly working on an absinthe-related crime story, as well as trying my hand at some very melodramatic and purple poetry.

On Sunday, the two of these interests combined to form some kind of pinnacle*.

You see, one night after coming back from a work function more than a little toasted, I received an email that led me to order a very small, sample bottle of approximately 100 year old absinthe. 50mls to be precise. That's two small shots, enough to make two decent glasses of absinthe. I won't share the price of it here, as it made someone at my workplace have a minor choking fit.

This weekend I invited a couple of fellow absintheurs to partake of the extremely aged amber nectar and in between tastes, gasps and giggles I tried my hand at updating a famous absinthe painting.

So, until I blog again with some real news or expand my range of topics for some real content, I leave you all with a taste of my handiwork.

An update of a famous absinthe painting. The newspaper is the Sydney Morning Herald from 8th June, 2008 and the absinthe is a glass of Pernod Fils circa 1910.

The original: Based on a painting by Charles Maire (1845-1919), this ubiquitous print advertising Pernod Fils once hung in almost every bar and cafe in France.

Cheers,
Daniel

* Or possibly just a Voltron-like robot sword.

Forgotten Books Friday

2008-05-09T16:23:00.003+10:00

Bill Pronzini's GUN IN CHEEK is not your average critical work of the genre of mystery fiction. While books on writing mysteries will guide authors in what makes good writing and books of literary criticism will look carefully at the writing craft over a period of time, Pronzini's book is an encyclopedic reference of what a writer shouldn't do.

Published by Mysterious Press in 1982, GUN IN CHEEK is part of a series of like-minded books that the erudite Pronzini wrote, including SON OF GUN IN CHEEK and SIX-GUN IN CHEEK (a focus on Westerns rather than mysteries).

When I started writing my trunk novel of a young PI-in-training, I bought a crate full of books on how to write, both in the genre of mystery, as well as on general fiction and editing. Randomly coming across this book on one of my regular adventures in the Amazon, I thought it would also be a great idea to have a reference on what to avoid in my writing.

Pronzini delivered with this title, not so much in terms of improving my writing, but by giving me a guaranteed good laugh, as well as saving me the trouble of buying some truly horrid novels.

The book includes chapters on the amateur detective, the private eye, thrillers, Gothic novels (the true pioneers of mystery), pulp-paperbacks and short stories, as well as dedicated chapters on British and Oriental-based mysteries.

With a brilliantly self-deprecating introduction by some guy called Ed McBain, and with gems like the one below, GUN IN CHEEK is definitely worth a thorough going over.

"He poured himself a drink and counted the money. It came to ten thousand even, mostly in fifties and twenty-fives."

Brett Halliday, THE VIOLENT WORLD OF MICHAEL SHAYNE

Happy Birthday To Me

2008-05-08T01:35:00.003+10:00

Thank all possible deities for Sazeracs. I'm 35.

Hatadi Is Notable

2008-05-02T13:30:00.001+10:00

I feel like the hitchhiker in Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas that says, "Hot damn. I never rode in a convertible before." Of course, it's a slightly different feeling in that I can legitimately say,

"Hot damn. I never been notable before."

Jamie Ford let me know that my name was on the Story South list of notable short stories online for 2007.

I seem to be getting a lot of mileage out of BUDDHA BEHIND BARS. It feels good. I should write more short stories, but I've been putting my meagre energies into the novel.

Other notables include Anthony Neil Smith, Katherine Tomlinson, Scott Wolven, Paul Guyot and Fleur Bradley.

Thanks to whoever nominated me and also to the judges over at Story South.

Six Random Things About Me

2008-04-30T20:50:00.007+10:00

Bagley tagged me with this one. I ain't tagging anyone else. Yes, I'm a rebel without a cause, without a pause, without drawers?

When I was sixteen, I fell in love with the saxophone. Because I couldn't afford one, I bought a harmonica instead. I've been playing ever since.
For one whole year in high school, I only wore red socks. Yes, with other clothes. Quiet, you in the back.
My biggest fear is an almost indescribable feeling of being turned inside-out in more than three dimensions.
I can flare my nostrils on cue. Hey, not everyone can.
My cat's name is Dax. He's a moggie, but mostly Russian Blue with a touch of Oriental.
I was on Facebook for a while until it gave me the shits. So I removed myself. My digestion improved immediately.

Phishing Scam In The Office

2008-04-30T14:20:00.003+10:00

Excellent! We just had this happen to us in our office. Of course, we didn't fall for it.

Fraud Squad detectives issue warning about ‘phishing’ scam targeting Sydney residents

Wednesday, 30 Apr 2008 12:53pm

NSW Fraud Squad detectives have today issued a warning following several reports in the past 24 hours of a ‘phishing’ scam targeting Sydney residents.

Several Sydney metropolitan residents have reported receiving an automated phone call, either at home or work, purportedly from a District Court. These messages should be ignored as they have not been authorised by the District Court.

In each case the intended victim is asked to press a number on the phone and is transferred to a call centre, who then forwards them to another person. In a number of reported cases, that scammer has claimed to be Col Dyson from the Fraud Squad.

...

Meanwhile, any members of the public with information about the scam are urged to contact detectives via Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000. Information can be provided anonymously and will be treated in the strictest confidence.

The 123 Meme Ends Here

2008-04-25T23:45:00.006+10:00

My creative energies have been sucked dry by my work schedule so I haven't been blogging much or spending too much time on the internet, aside from hanging out at The Wormwood Society. I still owe Barbara a post, but for now, this one's nice and easy.

The 123 Meme:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

Damien over at After Dark My Sweet tagged me, but since so many people have done this meme already, I'm going to be a complete rebel against society and not tag anyone else.

THE JOY OF MIXOLOGY by Gary Regan

"It turned out that the bar hadn't ordered the correct glassware for a Boston shaker, so this guy had just improvised. Even when the right glasses arrived, he decided to keep using the two metal pieces. Nothing wrong with that--it displays showmanship and imagination."

Movie Marathon

2008-04-09T23:27:00.004+10:00

With my head full of cotton wool and my nose full of mucus, I've had the last couple of days to catch up on a bunch of movies. Reading's been too hard for this noggin, but I seem to have a little energy for writing just now, so what better time could there be to throw some movie thoughts down onto the blogosphere.

28 Days Later

Took me a long time to get round to seeing this. Aside from the poor film quality, this movie was a well realised update of the classic zombie flick. A little less cliched than Dawn Of The Dead, and a little less fun for it, but still the usual great look at how people survive in horrific situations.

28 Weeks Later

One of the reasons I'd put off seeing this for so long was that I wanted to see the prequel first and two movies at once only works well when I'm laid up on the couch stuffed full of tissues. For this moment, this is my favourite zombie movie of all time. Not that I've seen all of them, but it was mind-opening to see a movie take on what happens when society rebuilds itself after a holocaust, rather than just the descent into it. Great tensions throughout and a believable vision of how badly humans handle anything important.

Rendition

Great to see a movie present a mostly balanced look at all sides of an international issue, but still a little too clear cut for my liking. And I wish Jake Gyllenhaal had a few more dimensions than just a blank worn out stare.

No Country For Old Men

Beautifully shot and acted, paced with a brilliant balance between the stillness of wide open spaces and the tension of action. Has one of my most favourite bad guys in the cinema of late. It also never tired me when it took the time to flesh out character details that weren't necessarily relevant to plot.

I Am Legend

I'm still yet to read the book, but this film delivered far more than I expected. Will Smith did a great job of holding the screen with no one but a dog and some mannequins to play off. It was also great to see a sci-fi/horror movie that didn't morph quickly into an action flick after the main ideas were presented. I took the extra time to watch the alternate ending and I think I prefer it. On the one hand, it's a little soppy, but it's also far less of a resolution, not bothering to tie up threads that didn't need it.

The Descent

This is right up there with Wolf Creek as some of the finest horror I've seen. Takes its time building the tension and claustrophobia but held me all the way. Great to see a group of women focusing on the task at hand rather than a group coupling off into likely love interests. And that's because the prologue did a great job of setting up that relationship tension, without having to waste time on it while we deal with the horrors that unfold. Strangely, these last two movies have similar looking monsters, but I much preferred how this movie only used CG when it had to.

Crank

I saw this earlier in the day, when I was feeling more lethargic, but it perked me right up from the get-go. Fuck me, I haven't had this much fun watching a film in ages. Some wildly implausible situations are completely forgiven by the tongue that's been super glued to the inside of the director's cheek. Killer soundtrack and hilarious action throughout, this is the film Shoot Em Up only wished it could have been. Loved the 80s videogame reference too!

Other stand-outs I've seen recently but not in the last few days have been Michael Clayton, Syriana, The Lookout, Last King Of Scotland, Fast Food Nation, Fur, and Fido. Haven't got the cojones to go into them right now, but they're all movies that have stuck to the inside of my skull and might never let go, for one reason or another.

Snapshot Interview

2008-04-03T17:13:00.001+11:00

At the end of 2007, Karen Chisholm (of the Aust Crime Fiction weblog), Damien Gay (of Crime DownUnder) and Perry Middlemiss (of Matilda) decided a similar snapshot of Australian crime fiction was required.

Over the past couple of months these three have conducted a number of small, five-question interviews with a wide variety of Australian crime fiction writers and will begin publishing them across the three weblogs, starting Monday March 3, 2008.

If you are at all interested in the current state of Australian crime fiction, you'll find this series very entertaining and, hopefully, illuminating.

This is where you can read my interview, and here are all of the interviews.

It's especially worth reading my interview because I mention the existence of two dimensional poo.

CrimeSpace Short Story Competition Results 2008

2008-03-31T23:59:00.001+11:00

We have now come to the end of the judging period for CrimeSpace's inaugural short story competition. From a total of thirty-two entries, the pre-judging team arrived at a shortlist that was passed on to the final panel of judges.

From there, the winning three were chosen by this year's panel, made up of authors Katherine Howell, Stuart MacBride, and Sandra Ruttan, as well as Crimespree Magazine's Jon Jordan.

The theme of 'Australia' proved an interesting one, in that most of the entries weren't written by Aussies. Some entrants used their internet prowess and social networking skills to flesh out the cultural details, where others settled for a mention of beer.

Click through to the results to find out who won.

I Was Born In The Wrong Decade

2008-03-29T01:55:00.004+11:00

I'm sure this would have been cheaper in the late 30s. Right now, I'd have to kill for it.

I'm thinking about it.

Tom Waits: Down In The Hole

2008-03-25T11:22:00.001+11:00

The song that gave this blog its title.

Hard-Hitting Poets Arrested For THE LINEUP

2008-03-20T11:14:00.005+11:00

"...every word has purpose: to plant clues, reveal character, move toward resolution."
Gerald So

Edited by Gerald So of Thrilling Detective, with Patrick Shawn Bagley, R. Narvaez, and Anthony Rainone

Including the hard-hitting poets Patrick Shawn Bagley, Ken Bruen, Sarah Cortez, Graham Everett, Daniel Hatadi, Daniel Thomas Moran, R. Narvaez, Robert Plath, Misti Rainwater-Lites, Stephen D. Rogers, A.E. Roman, Sandra Seamans, Gerald So, KC Trommer

In paperback spring 2008 from www.lulu.com - $6.50

Get the lowdown at poemsoncrime.blogspot.com

An Absinthe-Minded Journal Begins

2008-03-19T10:35:00.004+11:00

Around seven years ago, a good friend who played the oud came to my house with a strange bottle that he proclaimed as ‘absinthe’. I’d never heard of the drink before but was pleased to discover its illegal status. So even though he played a girly Turkish instrument that looked like strings on a watermelon, I did my best to conjure the spirit of Keith Richards as my friend popped the bottle open.

Daniel Hatadi, March 2008

I never thought I'd stoop so low as to quote myself in my own post, but today it has some worthwhile relevance.

For those of you that may have been watching certain photos appear on my Flickr account, you may have realised that an obsession centred around that fabled green liquid known as 'absinthe' has been building not so slowly in my soon to be feeble mind.

To ensure that I remember this time when the world seemed so simple and innocent, I've begun a journal of my absinthe-minded adventures. It will be published on a semi-regular basis over at absinthe.com.au. To read it in full you will have to subscribe, but it's free and they don't use your details for anything nefarious.

The first article is up now: An Absinthe-Minded Journal Begins

Cobra And Scorpion Whiskey

2008-03-14T10:10:00.002+11:00

Who would have thought a product like this could come out of a sweet and innocent country like Thailand?

Happy 1st Birthday To CrimeSpace

2008-03-04T13:16:00.002+11:00

When I started CrimeSpace on March 4th 2007, I didn't see it living past the six month mark. I certainly didn't see it hitting over 1000 members or winning any awards either. I just saw a hole in the crime fiction internet universe and wanted to fill it. I'm such a boy.

To celebrate CrimeSpace's 1st birthday, I've given the site a revamp.

Since I'm feeling nostalgic, I thought I'd assemble a list of memorable CrimeSpace moments:

Welcome To Crimespace: The very first post, still a good summary of what this place has become.

The Bar: Before the forum was split up into categories, this post served as a place for people to introduce themselves.

Daniel Hatadi: Posted by Ken Bruen, he doesn't mince words. I'm still yet to make it to America, and it looks like I won't be hitting a convention this year, but I will be in LA and NY in September so I'm sure I'll be organising to meet some of you fine folks at CrimeSpace.

The Must-Reads: I've been meaning to compile a list from this thread for some time, but it's easy to forget since it was so long ago. Hopefully this will make me remember.

JESUS!!!: Quite possibly the most fun post ever put on CrimeSpace, almost everyone felt the need to chip in with ideas on how to react when a severed head landed at your feet.

Are Libraries Unethical?: The only post I've ever had to close replies to, this would have to win the competition for Most Flameworthy. I'm happy to say that this is one rare exception to the general niceness of all the people on board this web-shaped ship.

What are you currently reading?: As far as I know, the longest running thread of discussion, this one's a classic that gets reinvented every month or so. Matter of fact, it's about time to start it up again.

How important in grammar?: I always assumed that the mistake in the subject heading was supposed to illustrate the point, but now I'm not so sure.

Is BSP Really Necessary?: The most difficult topic for me to find a nice balance between for CrimeSpace, this thread is where a lot of my early policies were formed. Since they came about from member discussion, I feel safe in saying that CrimeSpace has a good balance between promotion and community.

Now if only I could blow out this candle.

Australian Crime Fiction Snapshots

2008-03-03T13:03:00.002+11:00

From Crime Down Under:

Back in April 2005 Ben Peek, on his weblog The Urban Sprawl Project, undertook to interview as many Australian speculative fiction writers as he could and to publish those interviews over the course of a week. Each interview was only short, some five questions in all, and was aimed primarily at getting a brief look at the author's latest work, what they were currently working on, and what they thought of the then current state of the speculative fiction field in Australia. He called it the "2005 Snapshot".

In August 2007, the ASif! (Australian SpecFic in focus) crew, along with a guest or two, decided to follow Peek's lead and came up with their own 2007 Snapshot. They finished up interviewing 83 authors, up from the 43 in Peek's original.

At the end of 2007, Karen Chisholm (of the Aust Crime Fiction weblog), Damien Gay (of Crime DownUnder) and Perry Middlemiss (of Matilda) decided a similar snapshot of Australian crime fiction was required.

Over the past couple of months these three have conducted a number of small, five-question interviews with a wide variety of Australian crime fiction writers and will begin publishing them across the three weblogs, starting Monday March 3, 2008.

If you are at all interested in the current state of Australian crime fiction, you'll find this series very entertaining and, hopefully, illuminating.

At some point during the month, my own SnapShot interview will appear at one of these venues, so keep a look out for it.

A Day To Be Proud Of Australia

2008-02-13T12:33:00.000+11:00

I'm not a very political or patriotic person, but over the last year or so I've found that changing. Maybe I've reached an age where a lot of the things I used to find important are no longer so. Or maybe since I've been writing I've become more aware of the media and have been exposed to political issues as a consequence. Either way, today I can truthfully say that I am proud to be Australian. I am proud of our country and its current leader, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd.

Because today, our country said sorry.

On behalf of the whole nation, our Prime Minister said sorry to the Stolen Generation, the indigenous children who were taken from their families and assimilated. The children who had their cultural identities erased over a number of generations, who had their genetic code diluted, who had all this done to them without a choice, by way of law and policy.

To a child, to a lover, to a friend, to family, saying sorry doesn't erase the hurts of the past. But it does say that the healing can begin, that the torn relationships can be mended with time. Saying sorry doesn't change anything, but it does send a clear message of understanding and vindication.

It's a simple thing to say, but for an entire country to do so is an astounding and mature action. So, today, February 13th 2008, I can say without a doubt that I am proud of my country.

Nothing Wrong With Him That $100 Won't Fix

2008-02-12T12:07:00.000+11:00

One of these days I hope to have a book published that has multiple copies in the library. Not just for the recognition, or the ability to casually lead friends to the correct aisle in the library when we're all getting together for drinks in the library ... okay, maybe not. But there is a chance I'll get paid, thanks to the Public Lending Right program.

The Age newspaper tells me that I can earn $1.47 per book, although it's not clear how that relates to the number of times it's been borrowed. Looking through the list, Matthew Reilly is doing pretty well for himself, but then he's doing far, far better in the bookstores. I'd venture to say he was paid the highest amount from the PLR program, at somewhere between "$80,000- $89,999."

But out of the "$7.090 million in the 2006-07 financial year" that went to publishers and "8866 eligible writers", I have a feeling I may slot into the largest bracket "of authors, 2466," who "got only between $100 and $199."

Things could be worse, though. I might earn less than $50 a year, which would be no skin off anyone's back, since "Amounts of less than $50 are not payable."

Lucky I'm in this for the love of it.

The Lineup: An Anthology Of Poems On Crime

2008-02-04T09:48:00.000+11:00

Gerald So, Patrick Shawn Bagley, Richie Narvaez, and Anthony Rainone have combined forces to put together an anthology of poems with a hardboiled or noir bent. Coming out some time this spring (Australia's autumn/fall). Read more about the project at its new blog, The Lineup.

Spinetingler Awards For 2007

2008-02-01T14:34:00.000+11:00

Spinetingler Magazine has announced its new set of awards, the Spinetinglers, for 2007. So run over and check out the list of winners and nominees, as well as the latest issue of Spinetingler, and have a gander at Sandra Ruttan's new crime fiction conglomerate, At Central Booking.

Since this is an online award, in lieu of a physical award ceremony, I am happy to accept the award for Special Services To The Industry, for my work at Crimespace.

After stumbling up towards the stage, clutching the award in my hands, and tapping on the microphone (creating a flurry of feedback), I will now thank the people who helped me.

Sandra Ruttan, for running the awards as well as helping to give Crimespace the push start it needed. Also, Stephen Blackmoore, Christa M. Miller, Angie Johnson-Schmit, Bill Crider, Anne Frasier, Karen Chisolm, M. G. Tarquini, Patricia Abbott, and John Rickards were all a great help in the early days of Crimespace. Whether they provided content in the shape of interesting forum topics or gave helpful feedback, they set the tone that the community would follow.

I'd also like to especially thank my friend Robert Sakaluk, whose super-hardcore Illustrator skills gave me the logo in its present form.

And then there's the fine people at Ning: Gina, Phil and Athena especially, who have all contributed to making Ning a seriously major league service that still feels like a grassroots operation.

Many thanks also to all of the 1200 or so members that have joined up since March 2007 and made Crimespace such a great community.

Lastly, I'd like to thank Mary, for putting up with my Crimespace-related insanities.

Congratulations to all the other winners and nominees.

Yoga: The First Night

2008-01-16T14:50:00.000+11:00

When I fully commit to something, I usually don't mess around. So after my last visit to the sleep specialist I decided to enrol in a beginner's course in yoga, the first night of which was last night.

As the hour drew near, I found myself thinking that I'd rather stay home and watch a movie or read a book or play some video games. I was feeling tired as per usual and I started resenting the fact that I'd enrolled in the course. I thought that yoga was a new age bit of wankery that only materialistic Westerners indulged in, etc. This is the kind of stupid thinking I go through when I'm feeling nervous.

All that faded away once I was inside the studio and on my mat, in the front row of a group of about thirty people. What I quickly discovered was that there was no time to think about body image issues or how silly I looked doing the poses or even anything about the world outside the yoga class. I was simply too busy trying to keep up with the instructor.

And she really knew her stuff. She had a smooth, pleasant voice, didn't stutter or mumble, and filled in the empty gaps between poses with general yoga tips. She took us through Mountain, Tree, Child, Boat and Corpse pose, all of which have Sanskrit names that I won't bother looking up just now, but the English names are all very apt. I especially liked Tree and Mountain pose because, for whatever reason, they gave me little tingles of endorphins, and Vishnu knows I need them.

I sweated, I grunted, I did my best to stretch and concentrate on breathing with my belly, both of which I discovered I am terrible at. My legs are as inflexible as a Romanian grandmother (and I know this, because I have one), my nose lets in air like clenched buttocks don't, and my belly can't make up its mind whether it wants to go in or out.

But none of this mattered. I was using my body and it felt good.

The class took a total of 75 minutes, but it felt like a lot less. As we came to the end, candlelight replaced artificial light and New Age music took over from the voice of the instructor (or should that be teacher?). I lay on my back and closed my eyes, trying desperately to forget about the rest of the world as an assistant came round and dumped an eye pillow on my face. She must have seen me flinch, because I heard her warn the next person along.

The music faded out and a gentle gong rang out across the room; once, twice. We all sat up and while the teacher told us the meaning of namaste, the gong fell off its stand and banged against the wall. Normally this would have been cause for a gasp or a small scream, but in our relaxed state, no one seemed to notice, and when the teacher told us to pretend it didn't happen, we had already forgotten about it.

Even though I'm not entirely sure I'll stick with it after I complete the eight week course, my first experience with yoga is definitely a positive one, and I'm looking forward to the rest of the course.

Special Deal

2008-01-15T13:31:00.000+11:00

Courtesy of Gizmodo.

The Saga Of Sleep: Part III

2008-01-14T16:10:00.000+11:00

(Part I and II).

A few weeks after the overnight sleep study, I returned to the sleep specialist for a diagnosis.

He was a young Asian man with an expensive and modern grey suit, a tasteful wedding band on a manicured finger, and a habit of shaking hands and telling you to call him by his first name. This appeared to be a technique for getting me to feel at ease, to make me feel that he was paying special attention to me and my case.

Yeah, I felt a little like Philip Marlowe, walking into that place.

Once we sat down, Frank pulled out the three sheets of data collated from my sleep study and started taking me through the various sections. Skip the next paragraph if numbers and details make your eyes glaze over.

From a total of 6 hours, I slept 4.7, with frequent arousals, 34 of which were associated with respiratory events. These little lapses are known as hypopneas, which simply means shallow breathing. None of them lasted for more than 30 seconds, and my oxygen levels never dropped below 90%. My brain activity was high throughout the night and my deepest stages of sleep, including dreamtime or REM sleep, were all below par, but still present. Overall, sleep efficiency was down to 78.1%, but maintenance was at a nice and safe 96.1%.

Diagnosis: mild obstructive sleep apnea.

What does this mean? Well, since my sleep for the night was always bound to be worse than normal, the doctor's opinion was that there wasn't much wrong with me. Nothing that losing 10% of my body weight wouldn't fix. He also gave me a nasal spray to try and lessen the shallow breathing. After nutting out some of these details, I asked the doctor for a copy of all the data.

This took a total of ten minutes and a cost of $100. The doctor also said that there was no need for me to visit him again.

I walked out of the doctor's office into the tepid air of the city of Sydney and breathed in the morning pollution. A wave of anger, frustration, and helplessness swept through me. After all that, I still slept like crap and that doctor didn't give a rat's arse if I did or didn't. My oxygen levels were fine and that was all that mattered to him. This sleep problem was my fault, because I'd allowed myself to put on some kilos. My fault because I had bad sleep habits and hadn't put enough effort into setting up a good sleep environment.

My fault because I thought too much.

Not being one to hold a grudge or indulge in excess bitterness (and also never blog about it), I let this feeling swoop through me and move away. There was good news here. I didn't have a serious problem in the shape of life-threatening sleep apnea. I didn't have to spend a grand or so on a bedside air pump and mask. All I had to do was lose some weight, try out this nasal spray for a month, take up some more regular exercise, and see what I could do about my sleep habits and environment.

I won't lie, my sleep problems have affected my relationship, but after telling this news to Mary, I found that she was right on top of things, and that means the world to me. She suggested I try walking with her in the evenings or taking up yoga. She said let's get a new bed, one that will move less. And avoid caffeine, eat better, etc.

Thanks for being there, babe.

So now I've booked into a beginner's course in yoga, at the same place that Mary frequents. We've checked out some futons and have almost settled on one. I've taken the nasal spray as directed for a few nights now and I find myself sneezing or having what I call 'throat hiccups' much less as I fall asleep. I'm trying to develop a better wind down routine before bed, including a cut-off hour for computer related activities (sorry, Mr. Xbox).

I'm not totally convinced that doing all this is going to help. The issue of brain activity is still there, and I'm wondering if there's a touch of Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome going on. But I'm on the case, I've narrowed down some areas to attack, and I'm looking forward to having more energy during the day.

We'll see how it goes.

The Saga Of Sleep: Part II

2008-01-10T20:27:00.000+11:00

(Part I).

My sleep study ended up being scheduled the night before my work Christmas party, so in an effort to make it all easier on myself, I took the day off work.

I turned up to the sleep clinic with a duffel bag filled with pyjamas, books (Tana French's IN THE WOODS and Duane Swierczynski's THE WHEELMAN), a pillow, and extra underwear (you never know). After a relaxing check-in where the nurse did her best to sooth my troubled soul with the mention of a catheter, I was led to my room in the sleep study ward.

St. Lukes is somewhere between a hospital and a bed-and-breakfast joint, an older building that isn't the usual hospital maze but is still filled with the expected equipment (and thankfully not the usual smells). My room had a semi-obscured view of the buildings around Potts Point, with a picturesque backdrop of the city to flesh things out.

Not long after settling in, the first assistant of the night showed up to tell me the plan for the stay. First, dinner; hospital style, followed by the initial stage of hooking me up to the equipment. Later in the evening, the final stage of the hookup would leave me semi-chained to my bed, so I was advised to make plenty of trips to the toilet beforehand. So, no catheter, but I did have the option of a bottle if needed.

The first stage of hookup made me feel a little like I was going to one of those hairdressers that specialise in rastafarian-style dreadlocks, although this lot had a decidedly cyber influence. Then I had a couple of hours to kill so I paced around and took some photos. I'm especially proud of my Blue Steel look. Either proud or embarrassed, I'm not sure.

Stage two of my Borg-like transformation saw me hooked up to various equipment that measured parameters such as EEG (brainwaves), EMG (leg movements), airflow, and oxygen levels. At this point I settled in for a good few chapters of IN THE WOODS, which was far less heart-pounding than THE WHEELMAN. Around midnight I wound down enough to switch off the light and attempt to find a comfortable position with cables coming from my head, legs, finger, and nose.

I slept like crap, of course, for an estimated total of three hours before I had to wake at the ungodly time of 6am. Some exciting moments throughout the night included taking the tubes out of my nose to blow it, standing at an angle to fill the urine bottle, and waking up half an hour before I needed to. With the work Christmas party being an all day affair, I can say I'm very glad for the existence of bourbon and Coke.

Stay tuned to find out the results and the aftermath in Part III.

The Saga Of Sleep: Part I

2008-01-08T16:34:00.000+11:00

Michelle Shocked once sang 'sleep keeps me awake all night'. For me, that's almost true, but not quite.

See, I've had a little demon on my back for many years now, and it has been the demon of sleep. A demon that is so easy to accept, even though it's a situation that's not the greatest. So easy to just say I'm a light sleeper and be done with it. But there's more to it than that. I wake easily, find it hard to fall asleep, and my sleep is heavily affected by my environment: bed, climate, noise, movement, you name it.

But the last few months it has been particularly bad.

I've had nights and weeks where I seem to be doing everything right, keeping a good sleep pattern, staying away from caffeine, exercising, and even creating an environment where I have minimal distractions while sleeping. Thing is, even with all of this, I've had many mornings where I wake up feeling like I'm hungover, without the fun of having got there in the first place.

Doctors are people I generally avoid, but I finally decided to tackle this sleep problem once and for all a few weeks ago. I went to my local doctor, told him the situation, and had him refer me to a sleep specialist. Did some talking with this next guy and he booked me in for a sleep study, an overnight stay at a sleep clinic where they hook you up in all manner of ways and monitor your activity throughout the night. Tomorrow I'm visiting Mr. Sleep Doc again. He'll tell me what the data from the overnight stay means.

I'm betting on one of two things: I have sleep apnea, or it's all psychological. In a strange way, I hope it's the former.

But you'll have to wait to read all about it. Next part will be about my overnight stay, complete with Borg-like photos of myself.

And yes, I'm that much of a geek.

(Part II and III).

End Of Days

2007-12-31T18:16:00.000+11:00

The New Year's Eve state-of-life post has become a small tradition for me.

I like breaking tradition.

So let us raise our glasses and drink instead, for ...

See you next year.

Looks Like I Voted For The Right Guy

2007-12-17T15:52:00.000+11:00

From The Australian:

Rudd to reward Aussie writers

AUSTRALIAN writers will from next year vie for one of the world's richest prizes with the Rudd Government to unveil the Prime Minister's Literary Prize for fiction and non-fiction books.

In a bold and affirming cultural statement, the annual awards will have just two categories: published fiction book of the year, and published non-fiction book of the year. Each prize is worth $100,000, tax-free, with a further $100,000 to be spent each year on promoting and administering the awards.

Best Of 2007

2007-12-11T10:13:00.000+11:00

Some people like to do these lists because everybody else is doing it. Others refuse to do so for the same reason. I'm a combination of the two: if everyone else does it, then I don't want to, but I'm going to anyway ... because it's what I actually want to do.

But enough with the Maxwell Smart jokes and on with the list. As always, it's based on my personal reading of the year, which has nothing to do with publishing date. Since tracking it, I've learned that I only read about thirty books a year, all chosen by a whim of the moment.

EVERY DEAD THING by John Connolly

Famed for its hourglass shaped plot (one story tapers into the next), the first Charlie Parker novel is filled to the brim with lyrical writing and beautifully gruesome imagery.

CITIZEN VINCE by Jess Walter

There are two novels in this list about crims trying to get clean or stay clean, with both having a decidedly literary bent. Walter does a brilliant job here of fleshing out so much in so few words that I really should get off my arse and read some of his other work as soon as possible.

NO DOMINION by Charlie Huston

Thankfully the world of books generally does a fair sight better with sequels than cinema does, but in the hands of Charlie Huston, disappointment seems to never be on the cards. Thanks to vampire private investigator Joe Pitt, I want to be Charlie Huston when I grow up.

BENEATH A PANAMANIAN MOON by David Terrenoire

Piano-playing spy John Harper has a damned fine sense of humour and a softer side when compared to more traditional protagonists in the genre and it's these differences that bring Terrenoire's debut floating up above the rest. It took me far too long to get around to reading this, but the day David writes another novel is the day I queue up for it.

SATURDAY'S CHILD by Ray Banks

Other than wanting to be the love child of Charlie Huston and Ray Banks, I can't say enough about this fine piece of work. But if I had to choose my absolute favourite of this list, it would be a close fight between this one and the next.

THE WINTER OF FRANKIE MACHINE by Don Winslow

The retired hitman being pulled back into the biz is not a particularly new idea, but the depth of Frank "Frankie the Machine" Macchiano lifts this to the top of the foam from the cappuccino. Bob De Niro's working on a film of this and, as long as he doesn't stuff it up, I'll be one of the early viewers.

DOUBLE INDEMNITY by James M. Cain

Only one classic this year, and it was one I'd seen the movie of, so I wasn't amazingly shocked by the unfolding of the plot. Still, I gobbled down this timeless and twisted tale of desire in a couple of evening sessions. And it tasted damned good, I tell you.

RAZOR by Larry Writer

This year I delved into non-fiction of various subjects, but this account of the razor gang wars of 1920s Sydney reads almost like fiction, so I'm including it here. The detail of the research is mind blowing and made even more impressive by being set in locations that I know well. Whatever the newspapers of today may say, Sydney is a far safer city than it used to be.

THE CONFESSION by Olen Steinhauer

In my blogging travels I've come across a number of authors whose work I've read, but this is the first time I've read a second book from any of them (that has more to do with my playing catch up than the quality of the writing). I'm extremely glad I did. Everything I liked about Olen's first in the series, THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS, is in its sequel, but the story is taken to another level here. I can't think of any better endorsement of this amazing Eastern European spy series other than saying I have the next two books waiting on my shelf.

I was very tempted to include Joe R. Lansdale's LOST ECHOES in the list, even though I'm only about a third of the way in. Although I doubt very much that I'll be disappointed with the rest of it, I have to be fair, so I've kept it to a simple mention.

Vote For Me

2007-12-07T13:45:00.000+11:00

With Australia's federal election well and truly over, it's a good time to grab your voting hats and leg it on over to the Spinetingler Awards Shortlist.

Why, you say, why, Daniel?

Well, old mate, old chum, old pal, it's because iffun once you get there you scroll down a teensy tadbit, you'll be finding my first and last name under the nominations for Special Services to the Industry. Now that don't mean I've been handing out free lube to all the crime fiction kiddies, no siree, it's all about that wild and crazy social network I created and maintain, the one called Crimespace.

And while I'm being all forthcoming and such, I figure it's a good idea for me to be honest with you, my voting public. All the other people nominated for the same award have been giving good to the crime fiction world on the internet for longer and better than yours truly.

But to be equally honest, I'd like you to vote for me. Also, check out all the other categories while you're at it and vote for fellow Australian nominees, Amra Pajalic and Text Publishing.

Here's how:

Voting is open. ONE E-MAIL PER PERSON ONLY. You cannot send another vote in, even for a different category – multiple votes from the same sender will not be counted. Take the time to consider your votes carefully. E-mails must be received by December 30, 2007 - authors, if you're putting this in your newsletter make sure you are clear about the deadline for voting. Many recommendations were not considered in the first round because they were sent late.

You may vote for one winner in each category as long as all votes are submitted in one e-mail. Simply state the category and your chosen winner for each of the eight categories. Any votes that contain more than one selection per category may be removed from consideration completely. No ties.

Send your e-mail to sandra.ruttan@spinetinglermag.com with AWARD NOMINATIONS in the subject line. It is not necessary to explain the reason for your vote.

Signing My First Publishing Contract

2007-11-14T20:46:00.000+11:00

Some time ago I spent a good six months working in fits and bursts on a short story idea that needed time to percolate. Most stories do, usually for much less time, but this one was special: it meant something to me.

I'm talking about religion here.

Having spent many hours reading books on Zen Buddhism and Buddhism in general, my programmer's mentality was drawn to the one religion that struck me more as a philosophy or system for living than an excuse for worship or mind control. Draw whatever assumptions you like from that, but Buddhism seems to be the only religion I know of that actively encourages people to question it.

Of course, one of my other main interests over the last few years has been crime fiction. Talk about the other end of the spectrum.

Like many before me, I wanted to 'write what I know', but I also wanted to keep it within the realm of crime fiction. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I stumbled upon a way to combine my interest in Buddhism with my interest in crime fiction.

It may seem like a strange idea on first thought, but a few prisons in various parts of the world have experimented with the teaching of meditation to inmates, as a way of helping them deal with their time behind bars.

All this percolation and back story eventually led to the publishing of my story, BUDDHA BEHIND BARS, over at that ezine that is the hardest of the hard, Thuglit. About six months later and we're back in the present, where I've been lucky to have that story included in the second Thuglit anthology (whose cover should look something like that above), called "SEX, THUGS, AND ROCK & ROLL."

Like the first anthology, HARDCORE HARDBOILED, a handful of guest authors added their contributions to the swath of stories from Thuglit herself. It's going to be great to be included among such fine writers as Joe. R. Lansdale, Marcus Sakey, Allan Guthrie, Scott Wolven and Jason Starr.

The extra special bit about all this for me is the feeling of signing my very first publishing contract, which was quickly followed by the realisation that it will take almost two years to come out.

But that's the biz, and now that I have a taste of it, I want some more.

New Issues of Spinetingler and Thrilling Detective Now Online

2007-11-08T15:32:00.000+11:00

What's especially good about these two issues are stories from people like Stephen Blackmoore, Patricia Abbott, Patrick Shawn Bagley, Seth Harwood, and some guy from Down Under that likes to play harmonica and whose favourite colour is black.

Yes, I know. Black isn't a colour.

Go thou and read now.

Download the PDF here:
Spinetingler Fall Issue 2007

Crimespace Short Story Competition

2007-10-29T10:12:00.000+11:00

As a way of celebrating the joining of the 1000th member, Crimespace is proud to open its first short story competition. The plan is to run this heist every year, with the entries being crime fiction based around a theme.

To kick it off, this year's theme is 'Australia'.

How you include it is up to you. Your story could be set in Australia, have an Australian character in it, or simply mention Australia somewhere in the story. Hell, even including an Aussie cultural icon such as Vegemite will do. Entries must be no more than 2,500 words, including the title.

Get cracking. The deadline is January 31st, 2008.

Details, prizes and rules can be found here.

In For Questioning Podcast Has Moved

2007-10-16T10:18:00.000+10:00

Thanks to Podomatic's recent bout of unreliableness, Angie's moved her world-famous crime fiction podcast to http://inforquestioning.libsyn.com/, so make sure to update this in your podcasting client (usually iTunes).

And if you haven't subscribed, what the hell are you doing over here?

Smokin' Steinhauers!

2007-10-12T23:56:00.000+10:00

Olen Steinhauer, well known among those of us that like our crime fiction bleak and real, is mostly linked with his series of Cold War novels set in a fictional Eastern European country that remains nameless. I'm guilty of only having read the first novel, but the second and third are already in waiting.

Why am I mentioning all this?

Word around town (this translates to 'from the horse's mouth'), is that Olen's done and got his upcoming novel, THE TOURIST, optioned by an unknown actor's production company called Smoke House. They say one of the people responsible is related to George Clooney, but I don't think that's true: he must be a distant cousin of Steinhauer himself.

I mean, I can't tell the difference, can you?

Hatadi Caught In Podcast Heist!

2007-10-11T13:09:00.000+10:00

That mad Hatadi has done it again: his voice has been captured for all eternity in a digital form. To be replicated and distributed through millions of small boxes with clicky wheels on the front.

(switch to first person)

And it's all thanks to that bold criminal of the podcast universe, Seth Harwood. If you haven't checked out his podcasts before, you owe it to yourself now, if only to hear my rugged Australian accent at about the nine minute mark of Seth's recent Jack Palms episode, all about Russian sex slaves and rabbit holes, number 17.

As Duane Swierczynski said:

"I like the cut of this young man's jib."

How Often Do You Get Over Blogging?

2007-10-05T17:13:00.000+10:00

Blogging, blogging, blogging.

I've been doing it for about three years now, mostly on a weekly basis, often daily, but lately that distance has been slipping further and further. It's easy for a month to go by without an entry.

Anne Frasier said that a blog has a lifetime of about a year and a half, probably a close match to the hormones generated during any new relationship, that good old honeymoon period. Mine's obviously gone for longer. The idea for the original blog was that I would write it as my fictional character and alter-ego, Danny Hawaii. That idea didn't hold for too long (mostly because my stories never lived up to the character's name), and after about six months I just felt silly doing it.

My thoughts where that if I was to become a real author type personage, that I should damn well act like one and start now. After a brief flirtation with the idea of a pen name (because I didn't think my own name was marketable), I decided to stick to who I was and thus this blog was born. The very early entries were hand-imported from the Danny Hawaii blog and are still accessible in the sidebar.

Along the way, I've experimented with all sorts of posts, ranging from quick images with only a title, to what I hope are well thought-out pieces that are almost articles. At one point I even created another blog called 'Food What I Ate'. It was a surreal food blog, following my culinary adventures with mostly inappropriate captioning. The photos are still on my Flickr account, but the blog no longer exists.

I suppose Crimespace does take up a fair amount of my wet CPU power, which leaves just about enough for writing and other forms of entertainment. Every so often, I'll have an item of writing-related news to share, but I'm not a prolific short story writer, so those are few and far between.

Just to make it clear, because I'm sure the tone of this post implies that I'm saying goodbye ... I'm not. I'm still here and I'll be staying here, but you can take this as something of an explanation of my slackness in posting. And it always helps to get my thoughts out there, always makes it more real.

So how often do you get over blogging, you blogging types out there?

A lost and faithless fellow blogger wants to know.

New Crime Fiction Podcast: In For Questioning

2007-09-10T10:39:00.000+10:00

One of Crimespace's own, Angie Johnson-Schmit, has started up a crime fiction podcast called In For Questioning, with the first interviewee being yours truly.

Hopefully you'll enjoy me hurting all your ears with my inane babble about starting up Crimespace and writing songs about dead rubber chickens.

Next week's interview will be with Cornelia Read, and there are many more authors that I'm dead excited to hear getting grilled by Angie.

This is the start of something special and I'm well chuffed to be part of it, not only in terms of the interview, but I can also take credit for composing the theme music.

Enjoy!

Hatadi Is A Zygote

2007-09-03T21:25:00.001+10:00

Thanks to a few kind words from Steve Allan, I submitted a short piece to Zygote In My Coffee which they have just published. It's called 100 Words On Boredom, something a little more literary and a lot less crimey than usual for me.

Hope you like it.

Make A Grown Man Giggle

2007-09-01T09:59:00.000+10:00

Crime + Horror = Computer Game?

2007-08-24T16:53:00.000+10:00

It's not often that a computer game crosses over into blog-worthy material, but The Darkness goes against that by being a cross between crime and horror, a genre combination that's a semi-obsession of mine. Mostly because I'm trying to write a novel that does just that, but also because I think the two genres are a natural mix.

And it's a not-so-sneaky way for me to plug my article running in issue 19 of Crimespree Magazine, titled 'Crime+Horror=Thriller'.

From Wikipedia:

In modern day New York City, Jackie Estacado is a young Mafia hitman just turning 21, and finds himself the victim of an assassination attempt orchestrated by the don, his "Uncle" Paulie. Surviving the explosion meant to kill him as he crashes through a window, Jackie begins planning his revenge. A voice in his head manifests, calling itself "The Darkness", and demonstrates the power it has over Jackie by controlling his body and enabling him to use supernatural appendages and powers to violently eliminate all of the hitmen sent to make sure that he was dead.

In terms of both genres, you can see that the premise is filled to the brim with stereotypes. Mafia hitmen and demonic supernatural powers all exist within one young man that just happens to wear a long black leather coat and has long black flowing hair. On the surface, it seems fairly straightforward, but the presentation of the whole makes the game hang together beautifully.

The voice of the demonic presence known as 'The Darkness' is none other than Mike Patton of Faith No More, Mister Bungle and probably too many other side projects for me to name. Patton has possibly the most demented control over his vocal chords in the world, save for the Satanic bluesman himself, Tom Waits. Patton's voice isn't the only one that's top notch. The main character, Jackie, strikes just the right note of tough and cool, New York, 'I don't give a fuck' style ever heard in a computer game.

And I must give points for a great start to the dialogue: "I remember the night of my 21st birthday. That was the first time I died." Another happy line comes in the form: "Is there a way out of this fucking cemetery?"

Graphics are suitably moody and (dare I say it?) dark, with the demonic tentacles that represent Jackie's supernatural powers slithering menacingly all over the screen, making you feel as if they are growing out of your own shoulders as you walk around the neighbourhood laying waste to all the mafia types that get in your way.

I'm only part of the way into the game, but I'm told that the story hangs together well, which is a difficult thing to do in a computer game. You want to give the player a feeling of freedom, but not too much. The Darkness does well here because the player is forced to feel what the main character is going through by using a solid and immersive first person perspective.

The story is fleshed out with a third person voice over where we see Jackie gesticulate in time to his speech over a more than decent soundtrack. And something I haven't seen done in a computer game before: they put the effort in to make you care for the characters before they're killed.

Okay, I'll admit I'm a gamer. Not obsessively so, but a definite regular. What pulls this game above the rest is the attention the makers have put into creating an actual story. I'm tempted to say it's one of the finest examples of interactive fiction I've ever come across.

Gamers, go buy it. Readers and writers, see if you can look into it, as long as you don't mind a game that allows the player to devour still-beating hearts from victims.

There, I finally blogged again. Phew.

Coming Out Of Hibernation

2007-08-06T11:48:00.000+10:00

Every so often I find myself going through a bout of solitude. This has been happening for the last couple of months, possibly brought on by an abnormally cold Sydney winter and probably compounded by the re-entry into my life of copious amounts of caffeine.

Yes, I'm quitting it again.

During my hibernation I didn't spend a lot of time on the Internet, aside from keeping a watchful eye on Crimespace, but I also found myself not being much of a social animal in the real world.

Maybe it's the return of sunlight, or maybe I've had my fill of creative solitude, but this weekend I felt a shift back to normality. Evidence of this is clear: I actually enjoyed going to a party and sucking down cocktails. On top of that, I'm writing this post.

Solitude's been great, though. I obsessed over the love I'd thrown away: music. I researched lots of new audio gear and was blown away by how much everything's progressed since I left it all behind a few years ago.

For those that might find it interesting, I have a new soundcard, microphone, preamp (complete with tubes), guitar pedal, keyboard, and a couple of programs. Maybe that's a lot of money spent on what is just a hobby, but it's no more expensive than a decent digital camera.

And whenever I look at all that music making gear set up neatly in my 'studio', I have a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Or it could be just the heat coming off all the equipment.

Either way, I'm back.

More Publisher Laziness

2007-07-03T10:19:00.000+10:00

Rickards has copped it twice now. The Rap Sheet has been keeping an eye out for it. Now it seems to be Olen's turn, although at least his book came out first. I only noticed it because I'm still reading Olen's previous novel and I was surprised to see what I thought was his book in the wrong part of the crime section.

I have to ask: Has it always been this way, or are we all just noticing it now?

The One That Bruce Let Get Away

2007-06-27T22:42:00.000+10:00

For some unknown reason, I never did get my arse into gear to buy a harmonica microphone when I was deep into the music thang. Lately, something of that old fire's been returning and I've decided to re-acquire gear to replace the stuff I sold when I stupidly decided to leave music behind.

That's at least two buttock-related mentions in one paragraph. It's all about butts in chairs round these here parts.

After spending some time watching the harp-mike selling vibe on eBay, I stumbled across a devilish looking ashtray-like beastie of a mike. It called to my cupped hands, aching for my smoke-laden breath to fight its way through a Mississippi Saxophone and caress the element inside.

I don't smoke, but the red silk peeking out from behind the microphone's grill combined with the decent internals at a decent price. I was sold.

Here's the wild and crazy blurb from the eBay listing of this latest of my material acquisitions:

This Vintage Olson Microphone arrived in pretty bad condition a few weeks ago so the original green paint has been removed and the mic has been refinished in Black Hammertone.

The original Crystal element was DOA and has been replaced with a Hi-Z Shure 520DX Green Bullet element and transformer which was removed from a Shure 520DX. This element has Super Strong Output and plenty of Thick Gritty Chicago Tone. The Chrome Grille is in good condition but does show some blemishes. I've placed copper wire mesh behind it with a red silk backing to dress up the appearance.

This particular microphone was one of a pair that I recently received that were reportedly owned by Bruce Willis at one time, but I have no way to substantiate that!

The swivel-mount has been chopped from the microphone and a 1/4" jack has been placed in the bottom toward the back of the shell. The volume control has been added at the bottom of the mic and is slightly recessed in the bottom fin of the mic to keep it out of the way when playing.

Don't let this one get away!

From the Harp Mic Shop.

Not Dead ...

2007-06-23T18:21:00.000+10:00

... but between working on the novel, getting Ringed (not married), becoming a Godfather (with the dual role of uncle), and hanging out on Crimespace, I just haven't been blogging.

I'm sure this is only temporary.

NaNoWriMo: Better Late Than Never

2007-05-31T14:16:00.000+10:00

Possibly something that no publisher need ever know about, but the novel I'm working on right now started as a NaNoWriMo project.

Having only achieved a word count of 32,605 words, I could not declare myself a winner at the time, and I could not receive the glorious prize of Nothing Much Really. What I did win were those 32K words, a rough plot for the rest, and a determination to finish the damned thing.

I'm not quite there yet, but today saw me finally reach the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words.

32,000 words in one month.

18,000 in six.

You have to love the power of procrastination.

The Real Joker

2007-05-23T13:52:00.000+10:00

Courtesy of Ray Banks.

In Real Life: Katherine Howell and Leigh Redhead

2007-05-21T17:06:00.000+10:00

Having entered the world of crime fiction on the Internet about the same time I started reading properly again, I've had the distinct pleasure of getting to know much more than a handful of people, virtually. I've exchanged critiques, indulged in conversation on forums, even emailed about personal issues, but I've never actually met anyone in person. Until just the other day.

Authors Katherine Howell and Leigh Redhead happened to be dropping into Better Read Than Dead, one of my favourite book stores. My local, in fact. So when I received an email from Katherine inviting me to coffee afterwards, I was well chuffed. And a little anxious.

See, the people I know In Real Life are people I've met through friends, at clubs or parties, at work ... but never through the Internet. Considering I'm a programmer by day, you'd think I'd be fine with this. And I am. It's just that ... I've never met anyone through the Internet before. In all honesty, I was a little nervous to meet them both.

And I did this about about fifteen minutes after I'd planned to, on account of confusing the meeting spot with another cafe that happened to be right up the other end of King Street. After an embarrassing phone call to Katherine--embarrassing because I only live just down the road--I made it to the cafe, hot and sweaty from the brisk walk in the unusually warm sun.

The cafe was chaotic and noisy, so while we made our introductions, I ordered a coffee to calm my nerves. Yes, Mr. I Just Quit Caffeine decided to have a coffee. To relax. With my jitters now in full force, we powered through the conversation, learning a lot about each other's experiences in the world of writing in a very short time.

What I learned:

Leigh did roughly the same PI course as me, although she dropped out further into it, but not before having a rollicking good time on the surveillance practical.
Katherine has seen people die and live again, but none of them have gone on to write psychic self-help books about their experiences. Although there was one woman who thought she died for two weeks before returning to this material plane. The only explanation I could offer for this was the wanton use of chemicals.
Both Leigh and Katherine were the only crime writers during their shared time at Varuna, the NIDA of the writing industry in Australia.
I'm not the only writer who has complicated strategies for procrastination and Internet avoidance / addiction.
Australian publishers seem to put a fair amount of effort into promoting their authors.
Peter Temple is probably not going to join Crimespace (yes, I hope he sees this). Actually, I just made this one up. But I'm still hoping he sees it. And joins. Peter?
When Katherine and Leigh saw the Crimespace t-shirt pictured above, they both wanted one. I must look into ways of getting them printed in bulk. Until then ... there's always the store.
And one last plug for Crimespace: Leigh and Katherine were amazed at the number of very cool crime fiction authors out there in the world.

It was great to meet and chat with Katherine and Leigh. Not just because it was the first time I could share out loud the thoughts I've had locked inside my head for the last three years (must remember to avoid mentioning my fetish for sniffing book binding glue), but also because they were both nice enough not to run away screaming.

I'm currently powering through Leigh's debut novel, PEEPSHOW, but I couldn't miss the opportunity to get signed copies of their books. Leigh's being CHERRY PIE, the latest in the same series as the debut, and Katherine's being FRANTIC, the beginning of what promises to be an exciting series.

By all accounts, it looks like I'm in for a great read.

Interviews from ABC: Katherine Howell, Leigh Redhead

Big Face Of Books

2007-05-09T22:10:00.001+10:00

Made with the help of LibraryThing and MacOSaiX (PC users can try Andrea Mosaic).

Five Years On

2007-05-04T17:58:00.001+10:00

Five years ago on this day, I held an alcohol-fueled birthday party at my bachelor pad in the burbs. There was much fuel consumed by all. Mary was one of those consumers and towards the end of the night, she told me she was staying. I wasn't about to disagree. That night turned into two days that extended into us moving in together and being together for five years, a personal record for both of us in terms of relationships.

Since there's no point in me trying to top Mary's post for our special day, I'm just going to share with you all a picture of the rings we put a down payment on today. They come from a dark and mysterious store tucked away in the Strand Arcade, smack in the middle of Pitt Street Mall, Sydney. The place is called Love & Hatred. The white gold ring is mine, but will be without the Latin text; the rose gold ring is Mary's and the symbols on it represent the four seasons.

We're not into marriage as such, but this is a mark of our commitment to each other. Here's to our love, through all the seasons to come.

Gobble Up Catch-Up

2007-05-02T16:40:00.000+10:00

It's been a while since I've posted, mostly due to trying to limit my internet time to maintaining Crimespace. But there's something almost hypnotic and PacMan-like in gobbling up the bullets in a list, so I thought I'd give you people some little pills of Hatadi-tidbits to pop into your mouth.

Why? Because pills are good. Both my doctor and dealer agree.

What Hatadi Done Done Lately:

Successfully quit caffeine. Okay, I had a bottle of Coke on the weekend, but I've been good otherwise, and the moods swings are finally on their way out the door.
Polished off an entry for the Debut Daggers. I wasn't going to, but when I found out how many people I knew were entering I had to jump in on the insanity. It's possibly the strongest entry I've sent them so far, but I'm sure the competition will blow me away. That doesn't matter, though. There's nothing like a deadline--and money on the line--to kick your own arse into gear.
Polished off another short and sent it off. There's every chance it could be about the world's first homeless vampire. Failing that, there's at least 3 out of 14 chances.
Crimespace membership's just shy of 600 now. I'm equal parts excited and afraid. But I think that's a good way to live.
Went around my whole house and put up my meagre collection of books on LibraryThing. I love the function they have for looking at all your books on one page. I may just try my hand at making a collage like this guy did. I've also added a random display of covers in the sidebar. Why? Because I'm geeky, and the Geek shall inherit the Earth.
Watched A LOT of Battlestar Galactica. Almost two seasons worth. It's quickly become one of my favourite TV shows of all time. Until the next one hits anyway.

Caffeine Blues

2007-04-16T12:02:00.000+10:00

Since I started work for my current employer, I have been a happy and not so happy purveyor of the multiple evils known as coffee, Coke, Pepsi Max (my favourite poison), and all the other flavours of caffeine.

At first, it started off as a way to help me adjust to my new time zone. In the months between jobs, I quickly developed a habit of staying up late and getting up later. Turning up to work by 9am seemed a monumental task and my drug of choice, caffeine, seemed to be the obvious way of dealing with my lack of wakefulness.

Things have changed lately. I'd been having coffee with breakfast, followed by a hit of Pepsi Max when I got to work. That same bottle kept me going all day but left me worn out and cranky. Add to that the extra workload at my job and at Crimespace, as well as trying to work on a novel, and my head has been on the verge of exploding. Minor issues have blown out of all proportion and in The Real World I've been short, sharp, and snappy.

So yesterday, I quit caffeine. I've done this before and was without coffee and Coke for years. My head was clearer and I slept better. I'll still allow myself the pleasure of tea, but it's time to return to that previous version of me, the nicer version. I'll yawn for a couple of weeks and probably have a few minor headaches, but it'll be worth it.

This isn't really a big deal. It's just caffeine, nothing I've snorted or injected, but I'm putting this up here to keep myself honest. This makes it real.

Today's drug service announcement was brought to you by the letter C, which doesn't stand for 'sea'.

Gained In Translation

2007-04-03T12:05:00.000+10:00

Computer based language translation is always good for a few laughs, but I've never been the subject of the original text before, so I thought I'd share what happens when Germans and Italians write about me.

What have I learned from this? I have learned that I am The Macher who writes yellow and pumps benzine. I'm sure this makes a lot more sense in the original languages, but I'm still planning on taking my new-found powers on board. Except maybe the bit about writing yellow. Unless I can find some snow.

This frippery leads me nicely onto the subject of translation of fiction. I'm working my way through the first issue of Murdaland and the stories translated from Spanish to English both exhibit a similar quirkiness that I've seen before.

Months ago now, I read Haruki Murakami's HARD-BOILED WONDERLAND AND THE END OF THE WORLD. Even though it was originally in Japanese, the Spanish short stories from Murdaland have the same wonderful inconsistencies. I don't think this has anything to do with the quality of the translation, but there are definite artefacts when thoughts are shifted into a different culture and system of thinking.

I say system of thinking because I'm of the opinion that each language has a base set of assumptions that affect every thought made through that language. Some languages attach gender to inanimate objects, some don't have an equivalent word for 'self-esteem', some have many words to describe different types of snow, some only have one word for love.

While meaning can be lost in translation, something else can happen too. A well-turned phrase, a combination of words that would not normally exist in English can bring a smile to your face or create a poetic rhythm that has its own charm. The foreignness of the culture or the thinking behind the writing is what makes it so fresh.

But it doesn't always work and I've found that there are passages that I zoom through with glee then get pulled up short when a joke or idea doesn't translate well to English. I can't help but wonder what would have happened if the writer wrote in English from the beginning. But like Douglas Adam's poet who wrote on leaves and whose work was ruined when time travellers gave him liquid paper, I doubt the final work would have the same originality.

Something lost, but something gained. I might go read some Arnaldur Indridason right now.

Murdaland Hits Australia

2007-03-25T11:42:00.001+10:00

It's been a while since I've attached a book to my face and affected a cheesy, noirish stare. So when my first copy of Murdaland showed up on the great shore of Terra Australis, I figured the time had come again. And it was a great excuse to improve my Photoshop skillz.

The book itself is beautifully designed, complete with a satiny matt feel that my grubby hands love running over. I'm such a sucker for a good cover. To tell you the truth, I haven't even read a word of it yet, just skimmed through to get a feel for it. I want to devote my complete attention to Murdaland's first issue (right now that's taken up by Ray Banks' SATURDAY'S CHILD), because it's the type of crime fiction that excites me. And I may be the only one in Australia with a copy, so it feels somewhat exclusive.

It amazes me that what is supposed to be a magazine is, in reality, a book. A whole goddamned book of short crime fiction. And they're going to do it twice a year. I'm really looking forward to more issues, and I may just make it my personal mission in life to get one of my stories in there.

What Do I Read?

2007-03-19T11:12:00.000+11:00

After all that huge-in-your-face-logo-talkin-like-I'm-never-gonna-post-here-again, Marshal Zeringue over at Writers Read (of course they do!) has posted a little ditty on, well, What I Read.

Also up on the site are a few names that might be familiar to my irregular readers: Libby Fischer Hellmann, Kevin Guilfoile, and Paul Guyot.

Where Am I?

2007-03-18T08:36:00.000+11:00

If I'm not posting a lot over here, there's a good reason for it. At least for now, and quite possibly for the next few weeks, I'm spending all my internet time over here:

CRIMESPACE

Ken Bruen Appreciation Day

2007-03-12T16:31:00.000+11:00

The word had passed around on various forums and blogs, and the word had said that Ken Bruen was the crime writer to be reading. I was but a wide-eyed cadet in the world of crime fiction, so I kept at least one of those wide eyes on the lookout for Bruen novels.

Couldn't find one.

What was up? If this guy was so crash hot, why weren't his novels in Borders or Dymocks or Kinokuniya? The conundrum stumped me for a couple of weeks, until I figured out that all these stores only kept the latest novels on their shelves, at least when it came to the good stuff, the stuff that not absolutely everyone that had read THE DA VINCI CODE knew about.

Then I stumbled upon Abbey's.

Hidden in the heart of the city of Sydney, tucked in a street behind the Queen Victoria Building, Abbey's was a bookstore that specialised in language books or history or non-fiction. But not crime. Turned out I was dead wrong. They had it all.

First thing I did was look into this Bruen bloke. Got hold of a copy of THE GUARDS. Grabbed a Willeford too, something about custard and sharks. Took the books home, had trouble tossing up between the two. Something about the idea of custard and sharks was immensely appealing. But I opened up THE GUARDS and flicked through the publishing credits and such. Then I read the first page.

I was hooked.

But that thing that he did with the one word paragraphs was gimmicky.

Unnecessary.

Cheap.

Still, the rhythm of the writing was pure, flowing like nectar across my eyes. I was pulled into Jack Taylor's world, and I was pulled in deep. There in the bar next to him, I smelled the decade's old stains of smoke, booze, vomit. I felt his stress, wanted a release myself. Wouldn't have minded to have a drink and then just keep going till I hit oblivion.

I had to pull out. Pull back from his world. In time, I finished the book. Just took it slower than before. Bruen's words were an aged liquor that needed to be savoured, not devoured in one sitting with a splash of Coke.

But something about the book bugged me. Maybe it reminded me too much of the times I had to drag my dad out of the pub, when I should have been at home watching The Greatest American Hero or The A-Team. Yeah, I think that was it. But it wasn't long before I felt the taste for more. Went back to Abbey's, hands shaking, eyes darting. My addiction was writ huge across my face. Grabbed a copy of THE KILLING OF THE TINKERS.

This book was different.

Same rhythms, same paragraphs, but now it felt right. Like I was meant to be doing it all along, reading books like this. Bruen had me programmed now. Brainwashed. And I loved it.

Now I've read THE MAGDALEN MARTYRS and RILKE ON BLACK. Got copies of BUST and HER LAST CALL TO LOUIS MACNEICE in waiting, and I'm itching to get my grubby hands on THE DRAMATIST. I hear it's even better than THE KILLING OF THE TINKERS. And don't get me started on THE PRIEST or AMERICAN SKIN. I have to drag this stuff out. If I don't, I'll be left with nothing.

What'll I do then?

Crimespace Goes Live

2007-03-10T23:55:00.000+11:00

Eight days ago I read an article in the local paper that talked about 'DIY social networking', mentioning a new service called Ning. Having been both fascinated and repulsed by Myspace, I was intrigued. What unites people on the internet are their common interests, so the idea of having a social network dedicated to a single theme sounded very appealing to me.

I tapped into "that nebulous part of the universe where all the real ideas are," pulling the word 'Crimespace' out with me. Seemed like a good idea, a name that can describe the site in one word, dragging along the entire world's knowledge of Myspace to do so.

After playing around with Crimespace for a couple of days, getting familiar with the tools, and making it pretty, I thought, hey, I'll email a few friends. That turned into a few more, they invited some friends of their own, I got excited and started asking various bloggers and crime fiction news sites to spread the word and, after only six days, membership has already shot past the 60 mark.

What am I talking about, you say? Here's the blurb:

Crimespace: A place for crime fiction writers, readers and lovers to schmooze, booze and draw up plans for the heist to end all heists. Find new authors to delve into and discuss the latest in crime fiction. Join up and enter the forums. Share photos, videos and make some friends. Pull up a chair at the bar and share your poison.

I'm really excited about Crimespace. If I'd thought about it some more before I went ahead and started, I might have chickened out. Instead, I've decided not to be half-arsed about it. I'm making a concerted effort to spread the word. Both Spinetingler and Crimespree will be running news items soon, and a few blogs have joined the fray, among them, Murderati.

Feel free to spread the word yourselves. I really want to make this place into a virtual bar where readers and writers can hang out together and make crime fiction bigger, better and badder than it already is.

If anyone wants a press release and logo to promote the place, feel free to contact me. It's easy. Just move the mouse up. A little more to the right ... up ... that's it.

The Great Big Blog Short Story Project III

2007-03-06T10:36:00.000+11:00

Every year or so, Bryon Quertermous gets together a posse of word-slinging crime and other fiction writers then forces them to write a themed short story under the threat of a gun or soiled underwear. Previous efforts have resulted in more than just skid marks, as can be seen over at the first project, Junk In The Trunk, and the nameless second project.

A few weeks ago, the word went out on the street, the theme being blogging itself. Now the fruits of Bryon's labour have found their way onto the blogs. Below are all the shorts. Have a read, kill an office work hour or so, and enjoy.

Re: University Protocol on Incidents of Student Plagiarism: Patti Abbott
Take That, You Prick: Stephen Allan
The Sunshine Of My Wife: Bill Crider
The Truth Hurts: John Dumand
The Musings of a Serial Maniac: JT Ellison
As I Lay Dying: Paul Guyot
Dumped: Daniel Hatadi
How Does it Feel?: Mike Maclean
Nobody's Listening: Russel D. McLean
Blogging a Fantasy: Christa Miller
AmberSki77: David J. Montgomery
Smoking Gun: Karen Olson
I Am Not Paul Avery: Bryon Quertermous
Burning Down The House: Anthony Rainone
Flame War: JD Rhoades
Your Friends: John Rickards
Comments Enabled: Stephen D Rogers
Confession of a Spenser Fan: Gerald So
The Cat's Meow: Pari Noskin Taichert
The Best Blog Story ... Ever: Dave White

LATE ADDITIONS:

Just Another Wise Guy: John Stickney
Lady Jade: James R. Winter
Constructing Eugene: Lyman Feero

Blog Short Story Project III: DUMPED

2007-03-05T15:28:00.000+11:00

power / on
menu / address book
scroll / Mike
write new / text

u up?
nope
4 real?
duh
how r u?
fukt
n e news?
nope
she ok?
wot u think?
sorry

menu / address book
scroll / Jenny
write new / text

u up?
yeah cant sleep
news?
she'll make it
gr8!!!
cant walk tho
shit. sorry.
not ur fault
yeah

menu / address book
scroll / Leanne
write new / text

u hear?
yup. mike tol me.
well?
well what?
when do we ... u know?
not yet
wtf?
u didnt do her
i did!!!
she can dob
she can't walk
she can still blog
fuk u
no pussy 4u!

menu / address book
scroll / Jenny
scroll / Mike
scroll / Jenny

somethin 2 tell u
what?
i know who did it
what?! who?
not sure i should tell
who?!!
leanne
no way
yes
how?
her dad's car
call the cops!
can u? bcause...
ok

scroll / Leanne

it's over
fuk u

power / off

Buddha The Thug

2007-03-01T20:59:00.000+11:00

It was many moons ago when I read the book Destructive Emotions, a series of talks between the Dalai Lama and a collection of Western philosophers, psychologists and neuro-scientists. Within its pages lay a simple paragraph that sparked off a story, BUDDHA BEHIND BARS, which is now finally seeing the light of the prison day, over at Thuglit, Issue 13. Also be sure to read the other most excellent and hard stories by Anthony Neil Smith, David C. Daniel, Alejandro Pena, and D. T. Kelly.

If you don't already know it, Thuglit's a brilliant, hard-as-diamond-tipped-nails monthly emagazine filled to the rotten core with short stories that your mother would never let you read. Definitely worth a visit.

Oh, So NOW It's In Fashion

2007-02-28T13:49:00.000+11:00

Went to the exhibition over a year ago, bought the book around the same time, love to sniff through the pages every so often. Even spent the last six months writing most of a novel inspired by the photos, but now that Peter Doyle's CITY OF SHADOWS has been published overseas I really did need someone like Karl Lagerfeld to tell me the book was good.

Amazing what passes for news these days. If fame, fortune or good looks aren't attached to something, it's as if it isn't even valid.

Article and photo from the Sydney Morning Herald

Zoofari

2007-02-21T23:01:00.000+11:00

After all that talk on blogging, promotion and keeping a distance, I figure it's time to rebel against myself and share my recent weekend away to Western Plains Zoo in Dubbo. I'd set up the projector if I had a theatre, but looking at the photos will have to do instead.

Dubbo is a place I'd never thought of as a weekend getaway. Close to being smack bang in the middle of New South Wales, the city houses Australia's second most famous zoo after Taronga. The main difference being the abundance of African animals, living in something close to their natural habitat.

We went all out and decided to travel by plane, a Qantas 36-seater each way. While we watched the land below transition from populated to green to a dry and dusty brown, the air hostess booked a cab to pick us up from the airport. Once we arrived we were treated to an hour and a half wait before check in, but this was easily filled with a very welcome cold beer and food.

Our lodge was somewhere between a tent and a motel room, a four star tent if you will (if it had air conditioning I would have given it a five). Strong waterproof fabric made up the walls, stretched tight around a thick steel frame, over a tiled floor. We were told that the tiles could be heated during winter, but the hot air was heat enough.

It wasn't long before we went on our first behind-the-scenes tour of the zoo. The thunderstorm that had threatened us on arrival promptly broke and rained down around our mini-bus, muddying the red earth as we made our way to see the African elephants. They stood politely in huge steel cages, waiting for our eager hands to give them bread, oblivious to the setting's resemblance to the movie Jurassic Park.

Other animal highlights included the wild African dogs, whose voices reminded me of evil children in Aphex Twin video clips; the Siamang monkeys that performed a complicated dance accompanied by the booming from their throat sacs; and the lions in their night pen. But my absolute favourite animal of the trip was the baby Bongo, the sweetest deer-like creature on this earth. And yes, there really is an animal called the Bongo.

After a three course dinner at the beautifully air-conditioned Main House, we settled in for an early sleep, followed by an early rise (not my best time of day, but still worth it). Sunrise over the Savannah and hand feeding of the giraffes was followed up with a buffet breakfast to provide us with energy for the hot day ahead.

Neither of us had a driving license so we couldn't use the zebra striped electric carts, instead settling for bicycles for our own day tour of the zoo. Riding around the six kilometre circuit was made easier with rest pauses in the shade and capped off nicely with more beer and food.

After doing battle with rhinoceros statues, racing Galapagos tortoises, and more rest pauses and beer, we bid farewell to the city we never saw and flew back to Sydney.

Zoofari. Not quite a zoo, not quite a safari, but a perfect combination of the two.

The Distance Of Promotion

2007-02-09T16:10:00.000+11:00

There's often talk around the blogosphere on how much promotion is enough or too much, how writers should be spending their time writing and leaving the promotion to someone more qualified, and there's even more talk without a lot of figures about the need to have an author blog in the first place.

Like many of the writers in my neck of the sphere, my blog isn't much of a promotional tool other than encouraging some brand recognition of my name. Its main purpose is to help me connect with like-minded writers and learn about the publishing industry. Maybe along the way, people who read my stories will ask me to contribute to anthologies or other projects, and that can only lead to more reasons to write.

Thing is, if I ever get to a point where I have a few novels behind me and I'm starting to see Steven King, Michael Connolly or even John Connolly sized sales numbers, I doubt that I would keep this blog in the same format.

Unless I'm out there providing a service like J. A. Konrath or Sarah Weinman, the only reason for maintaining a blog like this would be to provide a connection for my readers. The personal side of my internet presence would shift over to community forums and email. With large numbers of readers, I think a forum would be a better fit, kitted out with an 'ask the author' section. Main news would be shifted to the front page of the author website (okay, enough fantasising already). Part of the reason for a change like this would be privacy and security related (I'm just so tired of all these nymphomaniac stalkers), but the other reason would have more to do with image.

And professionalism.

I desperately hope I don't offend any of my fellow bloggers with this comment, but I don't see it as extremely professional for a big name author to be detailing personal issues in a public forum, unless it happens to relate to their status as an author.

Different methods work for different authors. Michael Connelly has his forum as does Mark Billingham and Steven King. All of these authors are blogless. Janet Evanovich has her own questions and answers page, and as far as I can tell, maintains her entire website herself. Tess Gerritsen is one author who I think gets the balance just right. She blogs enough to stay in touch with her fans, gets out there and promotes, but is always aware of the writing.

I find the idea of a reclusive and enigmatic author rather appealing: it lends an air of mystery to their work and lets them stand on that work alone. I recognise their name because it's already plastered all over their book, and when they bring a new novel out I have a good idea of what it will be like, based on their previous work.

All that being said, the flipside is that I've found more than a handful of authors through their blogs, looked into their work, and decided I want to read more.

I love the crime and writing blogging community. Without it, I wouldn't be tackling a writing career with anywhere near the dedication I have now. I'd still be floundering on my own, probably turning up to writer's groups composed of fellow flounderers, and learning the ropes through an unnecessary amount of trial and error.

But if I make it big, you'll probably see me keeping just a little distance.

Remembering The Gutter

2007-02-07T23:10:00.000+11:00

For those of you that were there when The Gutter (Tribe's Flashing In The Gutters) was in full swing, it was a sight (and a site) to be relished like a dog in a bun.

It housed the best collection of flash fiction under 700 words, mostly with a crime bent, but no other rules restricting submissions. Along with Olen Steinhauer, Duane Szwierczynski and a few others, I happened to be one of the first to submit, the story being Poodle Girl.

My sentimental Australian abbreviation, The Gutter, caught on some. Tribe even referenced it himself. In my country, you know you've made it when you've been abbreviated. Although sometimes that abbreviation is more like an extension ... AC/DC = Acker Dacker.

Here are three of my stories from those wild and crazy heydays. For those of you that may remember, one of them is missing. It's doing the rounds in an extended version, so I won't spoil the fun when it comes.

Jesse's Lucky Knife (PDF)
Inspired by Blind Willie McTell's 'The Dying Crapshooter's Blues'.

Down In The Hole (PDF)
It's not easy being careful when you're that damned drunk.

Poodle Girl (PDF)
Playing in the park doesn't always turn out as expected.

Duende

2007-02-01T17:05:00.000+11:00

A couple of years ago, I came across the Spanish word, duende. At the time I took it to translate into something like: "the presence of the dark understanding of death." This concept stuck with me, and it's something I've been trying to achieve in my writing ever since.

Looking through the notes on my current novel, I saw this quote again and decided to look it up. Almost like the word 'noir' it is not quite definable and yet we all seem to know instinctively whether something is 'noir' or not.

From Wikipedia, "Duende is either a mythological character, or difficult-to-define phrase used in the Spanish arts, including performing arts." The mythological character sometimes appears as a fairy or goblin, like the grumbly fellow in the picture, but I'm more interested in the other definition.

Federico Garcia Lorca, a Spanish artist of a number of disciplines, gave a lecture in 1934 called Theory and Play of the Duende. If you follow the link and read the text, you'll find that even his understanding of this term seems somewhat vague.

Why am I interested in duende?

Art is such an inexplicable thing that I cannot help wanting to find some structure or method behind it, with the hope that there must be more to the seemingly random process of creativity. What makes great art? Various people over the centuries have come up with their own definitions and attributes, but I think that art can be defined like this:

"Goethe, who, in effect, defined the duende when he said, speaking of Paganini: 'A mysterious power that all may feel and no philosophy can explain.'"

Which of course doesn't help me or any other artist when it comes to our struggle. I use the word struggle because, for me, pulling out every word of every story is exactly that. Lorca's lecture used it as well: "The duende, then, is a power and not a construct, is a struggle and not a concept."

Sometimes I look at concepts like duende as mentors, guides in the process of creating art. In the isolating world of the writer, it can be hard to find a real-life mentor, and of all the arts it seems to be the one in which we must all walk the path alone. Sometimes, though, a kind word from a respected peer or a line of inspiration can give the learning process a gentle shove.

In October 2005, I wrote a review of a concert by Diamanda Galas. She stumbled across it and asked me for permission to use the review as promotional material. We emailed back and forth some, and one thing she said struck something within me, something linked to duende.

She said: "Fear is your business."

At the time, it wasn't. At least I didn't think so. I was having fun writing a self-indulgent, silly romp through my own corner of the P.I. universe. But that phrase stuck in the soil of my mind and spread its thin tendrils throughout my views on writing and art.

There's one last component of my personal definition of duende that comes from the review I wrote: "The old bluesman, Skip James ... would tell the audience that his music existed solely to inspire dread. It was not for dancing." I've seen a video of Skip James in action and you can see this in the faces of the people standing around him, watching him belt out his most famous tune, Devil Got My Woman.

Duende, like all words that attempt to define the indefinable, is for me a combination of fear, dread, and death. But even that seems to me to be too thin a definition. I can only hope that, in the future, duende will come across in my writing and that will be explanation enough.

Training His Eyes To See Black

2007-01-30T13:24:00.000+11:00

My sister has a whole pile of baby clothes in pastel greens, yellows, and blues. Her house is decked out in similar colours, with a splash of red and dark wood here and there.

This means that aside from the night itself, my nephew has very little exposure to the colour black. He's only six weeks old and this is a crucial stage in his visual development. His eyes need to learn to differentiate all the colours of the visible light spectrum, including the one colour that isn't part of it.

Black.

Just a small part of my uncular duties. I'll wait a few more years before exposing the little tike to all the wonderful trappings of the world of crime.

Me And Monica

2007-01-23T10:51:00.000+11:00

The Internet has that very special ability to keep track of every single thing you say to it, even if it lasts for only a short time and you change your mind and revise.

The other day I wrote a post titled 'The Long And Winding Road'. Because I was in a hard-arse crime writing mood, the original title was 'The Fucking Long And Winding Road'. When I wrote it like that, it wasn't coming from any kind of angst place. I just liked the sound of the phrase.

Next morning, I looked at it and realised that just like in real life, whenever I swear it sounds like I'm an old fart that isn't hip to the lingo of the kids today. I was brought up not to swear and agreed with it in full, at least until I was old enough to indulge in guns, drugs, and hookers.

Then I found that a little swearing can go a long way.

But in this case, that post's title didn't work, so I took the word 'fucking' out. It's the same process I use in some of my short stories. Put lots of 'fucking' in, then take the extras out in the edit.

The absolutely funny thing about this is that for the short time the post had the word 'fucking' in it, a dodgy Taiwanese search engine picked it up and autoblogged it. And for some reason, attached 'Monica Bellucci nuda' on the end.

There's nothing wrong with being attached to a naked Monica Bellucci, so I offer this post up as fodder to all the other dodgy Taiwanese search engines out there.

Here's hoping it ruins my future career in politics.

NEWS: Ruttan. Bruen. Steinhauer. Bagley.

2007-01-22T13:37:00.000+11:00

Bombshells and grenades are dropping all around the world of crime fiction. None of this 'order a personal rocket launcher and have it delivered to a house in the suburbs within a few days'. No, this is all above board. And the news is brilliant.

SANDRA RUTTAN AND KEN BRUEN TO VERY QUITE POSSIBLY (AND THEY BETTER BLOODY WELL) COLLABORATE ON A NOVEL.

PATRICK SHAWN-BAGLEY TO CO-EDIT MYSTERY ANTHOLOGY.

OLEN STEINHAUER NOMINATED FOR AN EDGAR AWARD.

And that's not all:

CORNELIA READ, CHARLES ARDAI, BILL CRIDER AND MANY MORE NOMINATED FOR EDGAR AWARDS AS WELL.

Bloody hell. What a week in the world of crime fiction news. It's going to be a great year all round.

(Editor's note: the order of all items is chosen randomly and without favouritism, except for the bit about Bruen, which is just too fucking cool.)

Thrillerfest Will Have To Wait

2007-01-19T10:46:00.000+11:00

After weeks of thinking and budgeting and planning and talking (but mostly just thinking), I've decided not to go to Thrillerfest this year. And it's pretty much a financial decision. Unfortunately, July is too soon to get the cash together to turn the Thrillerfest event into a full-blown holiday.

I could use credit and I could go on my own, but I have a bucketload of debts that really need a chunk taken out of. The thought of adding to that debt is enough to make veins burst in my forehead, like popcorn in a saucepan.

While my main reason for going to Thrillerfest would be to meet all the fine people that I've only known through words, I can't financially justify spending thousands of dollars to do so, at least this year. The way I would do that would be with a novel that's worked over and ready to show to agents or, better still, a novel out or on the verge of being published.

That's just not going to happen in the next six months.

My first novel is my chance to make a name for myself and I want to make sure I do it right. Debut authors have that chance simply because they are debut authors, filled with the promise of even better and bigger books to come. New kids on the chopping block, rebels without a pause, underdogs to root (or barrack) for.

I know I've said I would come to Thrillerfest, but I was always a little iffy about it. I hope no one will cry if I don't show up.

Just remember, there's always next year!

The Long And Winding Road

2007-01-17T10:07:00.001+11:00

Paul Guyot is back in full force over at Murderati, and this time it's personal.

Just today (or tomorrow, I never know with all these bloody time zones), he put up an excellent post on the head games that us writers put ourselves through. Paul tackles subjects such as I'm Not Good Enough, I Can't Do This, and This Is How Those Other Guys Did It So I Have To As Well.

Putting it this way makes these mistakes seem ball-crushingly obvious, but it's amazing how many years it takes to work through the issues and come to those light-bulb-moment realisations that allow you to Get Back To Work, Write What You Want To Write, and Do It Your Way.

I suppose he doesn't need to be reminded that it took him four years to figure this out.

My long and winding road has been somewhat different, but also similar. I spent two years writing the first draft of a PI novel that had maybe only one good idea in it. I'd gone so far against the idea of writing to market that I'd written an entire novel that doesn't even interest me. And I know this because I've written five versions of a blurb for it.

The novel was also set up as a series and as I crawled towards those bittersweet words, THE END, I realised I didn't want to write a series at all. I tend to completely absorb myself in my latest interest and when that's over, I'm not happy until I've moved onto the next obsession. I'm sort of a serial monogamist that way. This kind of thinking doesn't lend itself to the idea of writing a series. That's just too much time spent on the same thing.

Having gone through the process of writing a novel and letting it go, I'm now far more aware of the time and effort it takes, and the path all that work follows. I'm half way through the first draft of another novel, one whose blurb would entice me to read it, and I have an idea for a follow-up. Something in the same vein, but completely unrelated.

I'm still a big baby in this world of writing, partly because I've spent so many years concentrating on music, forgetting all my voracious gobbling up of books in my childhood. The last two years have seen me correcting this and, at the same time, falling heavily for the world of crime fiction.

In that time, I've also taken off my crime fiction blinkers and opened my eyes to the worlds of the supernatural and (as Tribe puts it) the New Weird, worlds that have always attracted me. Thanks to writers like John Connolly, Sara Gran, Anne Frasier, Neil Gaiman, Charlie Huston, and Alexandra Sokoloff, I now have the courage to follow my desire.

And because it's what I really want to do, everything I write will be set in Australia, regardless of what anyone thinks the market wants. I'd rather contribute to the body of work here than be just another drop in the pond over the other side of the pond.

Yes, it's a long and winding road, but I'm loving every minute of it.

How To Write It Much More Betterer

2007-01-15T14:28:00.000+11:00

This year I'm making it a point to improve the quality of my writing, so I decided to rewrite my Clarity Of Night contest entry as a learning exercise. It's easy to do this on something short, and it helps that it's been out there in the real world.

M. G. Tarquini sent me an email giving me feedback on the story, suggesting a way to improve it. If you read the original, it becomes obvious that the wordy science lesson at the beginning drags. It serves the purpose of setting a tone and mood, but what's the point if it doesn't keep the reader interested? Mindy's suggestion was to work this information into the rest of the story, starting it a little later in the piece, the point where it kicks into gear.

Here's the revised version:

THE NATURE OF DECAY

In the alley next to the wall I wait.

Among the garbage and the flies, the smells of long-spoiled foods, the mould-covered carcass wedged between the rubble up against the wall.

The mould feeds on the moisture and the warmth, its spores crawl up the wall in a speckled pattern, random and chaotic in its beauty. I watch the wall and I wait.

I wait for those that make the alley their home, surrounding themselves with fortresses of cardboard boxes. As if this would offer them protection.

I wait for one whose hair is matted and grey, face riddled with liver spots, whose life is not far from its end.

I wait until he sleeps.

The spores flee my body like wasps from a nest. They fly towards the old one and seep into his tattered clothes until his decaying skin is covered completely. He will wake and he will scream, but who would care for him in the dead of night, in this sewer of an alley?

No one to help him, but he will help me. He will sustain me.

And when the work is done, I will wait in the alley, next to the wall.

I Made "The Outfit" Hoot

2007-01-13T17:05:00.000+11:00

That well-known collection of Chicago-based crime writers over at The Outfit recently held a competition to come up with the best last line to a novel. The kind of line that makes you want to read everything that came before it.

Here's my entry, which received an honourable mention, putting me at the same level as Victor Gischler's entry:

"Even though the final design looked more like a Lamborghini than a Ferrari, Dennis swore that for the rest of his life – no matter what anyone said – he would wear his condom with pride."

Now tell me you don't want to read absolutely everything that led up to that.

"Silent Grey" Short Fiction Contest

2007-01-11T15:10:00.000+11:00

Jason Evans over at Clarity of Night runs a semi-regular short fiction contest. I haven't entered before, but this contest--inspired by the photo shown--caught my eye during a free lunch hour, so I pumped out my entry and off it went.

Have a read of THE NATURE OF DECAY and check out all the other entries while you're at it. Tell me what you think, and tell the others too.

But don't try to enter, because you've already missed the moonlit boat.

Released: SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES by Sandra Ruttan

2007-01-09T09:52:00.000+11:00

Since I met Sandra at the now defunct Mystery Circus, I knew she would be a force to be reckoned with. Like all Canadian leprechauns, she's shorter than me, but I still have to say that I look up to her.

She puts in so much time and energy into her work and the promotions for it, and yet she still goes round to all the blogs and gives people gentle and optimistic pushes. I've said before that I can't wait for her novel to come out and now that day has finally arrived.

Credit card, prepare yourself.

Here are all the details:

A suspicious death. A missing baby. A corrupt police department.

When a man shows up in reporter Lara Kelly's office with a video that appears to show a woman falling to her death, Lara is intrigued but suspicious. The man claims he went to the police, but that they refused to investigate.

Under pressure from her editor to use the video to build a story about the incompetence of the local police captain, Lara gathers enough evidence to print a story about a suspected suicide.

Detective Tymen Farraday, the newest cop in a precinct plagued by scandal, is ordered to investigate and discredit the reporter if necessary. When potential evidence is stolen and Lara is attacked, Farraday is forced to put his grudge against reporters aside and work with the journalist to solve the murder while trying to protect her from the killer.

Just when they think they have the evidence to arrest a suspect, two more murders turn the investigation in an unexpected direction.

The guilty have already shown that they'll stop at nothing to protect their secrets.

In a town where one person holds all the power, not even the police can be trusted.

And the prime suspect isn't the only person Lara and Farraday need to worry about.

"SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES has to be one of the most satisfying mysteries going that grips the reader from beginning to end."
- Clive Cussler

"..there is never a dull moment. It's a hard book to put down."
- Tony Hillerman

"Here is the new voice, and what a voice! Eloquent, sassy, compassionate and written with a style so assured it’s hard to believe it’s a debut... This is talent writ huge."
- Ken Bruen

Buy the book at:

Amazon
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble

Moving To The Future

2007-01-06T15:50:00.000+11:00

If you haven't dropped by here in a while, that makes perfect sense: neither have I.

In honour of ringing in the New Year and all, I've moved to the 'new and improved' Blogger. Expect a few changes around here until I get the hang of it. Once it's all sorted I'll do a catch up post.

Woah. The future is, like, now.

Thank You For Crimespot

2006-12-22T23:59:00.000+11:00

When Graham Powell came up with the idea for Crimespot, it was one of those ideas that you made you jump and say, "Yes, count me in!"

The plan was to "round up crime and mystery fiction blogs from all over the Internet and summarize them in an easy-to-read format."

He launched the service on Friday, January 20, 2006. Aside from a few computer related ups and downs, it's been a rock solid method for quickly sifting through everyone's favourite crime blogs, and a first port of call for many writers and readers alike.

The amazing thing is that Graham put together the service and kept it running for a whole year out of his own pocket and time.

On behalf of all crime bloggers and readers out there, I'd like to say thank you, Graham. Your efforts are very much appreciated.

Uncle Dan

2006-12-20T17:11:00.000+11:00

Let me try that again: Uncle Dan.

That's what you can call me from now on. All because this little fella that goes by the last name of Ortado was born to my sister Laura and her husband Michael at 5.40pm on Monday 18 December, 2006.

I suppose this means I'll have to make sure I can get him good, clean drugs, weapons that are untraceable, and computers that are virus free.

That's what uncles do, right?

Right?

Standouts Of The Year: 2006

2006-12-13T13:39:00.000+11:00

Much like the effect of a good thick ale on the brain cells, the holiday season is winding down my writing. The novel is moving along at the rate of paragraphs a day and I haven't posted in a whole week.

My writing may have slowed down but my reading has picked up. Something I started doing early last year is keeping track of every book I read. Seeing all the titles in a list helps me to pick what type of book I feel like reading next.

Last year I read a total of 22 books, but this year I made a more concerted effort to raise that figure. Regular reading has probably improved my reading speed as well and the total of 38 books this year attests to that.

Plenty of those books were well written and worthy of praise, but some gelled with me more than the others. I can put myself back into their worlds with the simple reminder of a character's name or a scene or title.

And here they are.

Peter Temple: THE BROKEN SHORE

Although I prefer Temple's Jack Irish novels, there's something about this one that resonates. I can picture myself in Port Munro as Detective Senior Sergeant Joe Cashin, living with two dogs and working on my property, trying to resurrect one of its buildings. Temple's spare prose perfectly captures the laconic rhythm of speech and mood from the smaller parts of Australia.

Ken Bruen: THE KILLING OF THE TINKERS

As an aspiring crime writer, it's dangerous for me to read Bruen's work, but I make sure to savour it at regular intervals. This Jack Taylor novel had a better mix of humour and hardness than THE GUARDS. The ending absolutely blew me away. Luckily I have quite a few Bruen novels to catch up with before I get to the stage where I have to wait to read more. I want to be Bruen when I grow up.

Charles Willeford: THE SHARK-INFESTED CUSTARD

Willeford's writing style is something I haven't seen anywhere else. He gets into my head, feeding off my thoughts, presenting the story of four Miami boys getting into serious trouble in a way that makes me feel part of the action. And that title. Just try to tell me you've heard one better.

Jim Thompson: THE KILLER INSIDE ME

Tribe slapped me upside the head to make sure I got off my arse and rescued this from a teetering pile of books-in-waiting. Tribe was right, Kubrick was right ("Probably the most chilling and believable first-person story of a criminally warped mind I have ever encountered."), and Thompson was right on the money with this cold piece of work.

Richard Aleas: LITTLE GIRL LOST

Hard Case Crime's cunningly disguised Charles Ardai wrote this spot-on example of how a PI novel can still work in our day and age. Holding the little paperback and smelling its pages while reading was a modern retro joy. And the story was so good I wrote a one sentence summary of each scene so I could see how the whole thing flowed.

Malcolm Gladwell: THE TIPPING POINT

Some great ideas in this, although I'd come across many of them in James Gleick's CHAOS. Here they're transplanted onto people and marketing in clear prose in a small book. Since I've read it, I can't help classifying people as Mavens or Collectors ... read the book and you'll understand.

Jeff Lindsay: DARKLY DREAMING DEXTER

While some of the internal monologue is repetitive, the whole idea and execution of Dexter, the good-guy serial killer is just plain fun. And now there's a TV series of the show that's even better.

Sara Gran: COME CLOSER

This is the book that inspired me to include the supernatural in my next novel. As the story progresses it becomes more and more uncomfortable and eerie, with a noir sensibility throughout. With one book I've become a Sara Gran fan for life. I'll get crucified for this, but I think it's even better than her following novel, DOPE.

Steven Torres: THE CONCRETE MAZE

I've written my own review of this already, so I won't repeat any of that here. But I will say that it's the very real emotional impact of this book that has made it stick with me.

Charlie Huston: ALREADY DEAD

Finished this one only last week and it's one of the few books that had me moving through at least fifty pages without being aware of time or hunger. The combination of vampire and PI novel is something that completely tickles my fancy. But then, I am half Romanian. The sequel for this one is out very soon so my credit card is ramped up and ready to go.

Is Your Mobile Bugging You?

2006-12-05T13:17:00.000+11:00

What better way to return to my normally NaNo-free scheduled blogging than to link to something someone else has written.

Gary Hughes has an article up over at his Gotcha blog filled with potential plot fodder for a techno-thriller, if that's your kind of bag. If it isn't, you're probably paranoid and want to know more about it anyway.

"Counter-surveillance consultant and former US government electronic intelligence officer James Atkinson told CNET that software, which would remotely activate a phone’s microphone and turn it into a bug, could be downloaded on to a mobile without the owner being aware. “They can be remotely accessed and made to transmit room audio all the time,” he said. “You can do that without having physical access to the phone."

NaNoWriMo: THE END

2006-12-01T10:18:00.000+11:00

Thank Goat it's over.

But I'm not stopping.

NaNoWriMo: The Interview

2006-11-25T09:58:00.000+11:00

The power of the internet is fickle and indiscriminate, so much so that even failure can bring fame. Less than a week before the end of NaNoWriMo, and I've already been interviewed.

You can read the roasting put together by the deft keyboard fingers of Sean Lindsay, over at 101 Reasons To Stop Writing. He sucked me in by calling me ruggedly handsome (I think he saw the picture of a robot mailbox) and then put up my answers to his questions unedited.

In honour of him finding out my darkest and worst kept secret (the one about my Danny Hawaii series only having one story), I've now updated my biography and removed the offending evidence from my entire website.

That oughta show him.

NaNoWriMo: The Final Week Begins

2006-11-22T13:04:00.000+11:00

Last weekend I had the quite sensible plan of catching up on the 5K I needed to get back on target. Saturday went alright--I wrote a few hundred extra words, but on Sunday I didn't even fulfill the day's minimum quota. I just stopped writing. And I haven't written a word since.

The reason? I'm writing a novel, not trying to hit a word target. The whole NaNoWriMo thing was something that both Stephen and I were using to get our arses moving on our WIPs. That's why I had no qualms about using words I'd written before November (which aren't part of my NaNo-count). And that's why I've spent the last few days plotting out the next few chapters.

The thing about me and plotting is that I need time to percolate my ideas. I'll always end up with something better when it's had at least a few days of tweaking. The slow process of sprinkling the plot with details helps make it richer.

My last week is going to be a leisurely stroll. I'll be dropping my pace down to something more reasonable and I'll be taking days off. Even if I only hit 35K by the end of the month, that will still be 35K of a novel that I probably wouldn't have written for another few months.

If there's one thing I've learned about this whole process, it's that I can write faster than I thought. But that doesn't mean I have to.

Review: Tom Waits - Orphans

2006-11-19T20:44:00.000+11:00

Once every few years, along comes an album that I rush out to buy, regardless of any current gambling or international-scale drug debts. I need to own the original packaging, hold the physical artwork in my hands, and if I'm lucky enough to have liner notes to read, I'll pore over them with a jeweler's eyepiece until I go blind in one eye.

This weekend, one of those albums came along.

At $AUD84.95, it's a hefty tug on the old purse strings, but it's worth every single cent. The deluxe edition of Tom Waits' Orphans comes in its own CD-sized hardcover book, with the pages consisting of lyrics on a ye-olde worlde background and a pseudo photo album. At the back are the three CDs. Yes, three.

They're called, in order, Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards. The Brawlers are junkhouse, roadhouse, bang-them-over-the-head-with-a-house raunchy blues and gospel numbers as only Tom Waits can do them. The Bawlers are yank on your heart strings ballads, and the Bastards are a psychotic menagerie of aural experiments and spoken word pieces whose parents were never fully legit.

Right off the bat, the first four songs on Brawlers are ones I've never heard before. They got me jumping up and standing on my chair, banging my head against the wall in glee. Tracks on this CD include a Ramones tribute, a song from the movie Dead Man Walking, and a new version of a track that Tom did with his old buddy, Chuck E. Weiss. Anyone remember the song Chuck E's In Love by Rickie Lee Jones?

When Tom does soppy, he can pull a tear from a gland-less eyeball with a single full-throated moan, and when he does it he'll call the song something like Little Drop Of Poison. Which came from the Shrek 2 soundtrack of all places. I vaguely remember a scene with a drunken horse on the piano in a bar. I'm guessing that was supposed to be Tom.

The last CD is Bastards, and this is where I've had a couple of disappointments. I know, someone's bound to hit me with a brick for saying that Tom is capable of wrong, but I'm not too happy about the overdubbed harmonica on a few of these, or the muffling of the banjo courtesy of Primus in On The Road, a song about Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady. But the spoken word pieces over musical soundscapes are eery and effective, especially when mixed with older recordings of Tom, before he drank shoe polish strained through bread.

One last track I'll mention from Bastards is Dog Door, a wild, crunchy scratched-falsetto number that almost resembles the kind of R'n'B a zombified version of Tom would holler. I hesitate to use the words R'n'B and Tom in the same sentence, but the production values behind this track are firmly in the now. Sonically inspiring stuff.

Something that struck me about the album, and this is only after a full day of listening, is that Tom Waits won't be making music forever. I don't know if it was the lack of alcohol talking, but he ain't getting any younger, and this almost feels like a career retrospective.

But as Tom might say, there's nothing wrong with me that a hundred dollars won't fix.

For further illuminating reading, leg it on over to the Tom Waits Supplement, a very handy research tool for the history of all the tracks on Orphans.

NaNoWriMo: An Excerpt

2006-11-18T16:15:00.000+11:00

Even I'm starting to be more than a little disturbed by the last post. In the interest of moving on from it, here's a silly little snippet of a scene I wrote today:

They walk over to the table in the corner, Jules hanging back a little as he watches Louise move with apparent purpose.

She sits next to the man with the pipe and says in an exaggerated English accent, “Hello Martin or Edward, or whatever your name might be. Would you happen to know a Reggie Cooper, someone that frequents this fine drinking establishment?” She flicks her hair behind her shoulders and looks directly at the man.

“Would you mind love? I’m trying to study the form,” he says, his accent completely unlike Louise’s affected one. He picks the newspaper up from the table and shakes it out, blocking his face from view.

Louise pulls the top edge of the paper down with one finger. “Reggie? Cooper? You sure you don’t know him?”

“If I did know him, I wouldn’t be arsed telling the likes of you. Now rack off. Race is about to start.” He puts his hand up to his ear and that’s when Jules notices a white cable trailing down the side of the man’s tweed jacket, disappearing into the pocket.

The old man at the bar chuckles and coughs.

Louise ignores this, stands up and says, “That went well.” She points to the other side of the room at a man with a football jumper, tilts her head, cracking her neck as if she’s about to start a fight.

“I might just try again.”

U For Uncanny

2006-11-17T00:01:00.000+11:00

Hey, the blog can't be totally about NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo: Half Way There

2006-11-16T23:20:00.000+11:00

Fifteen days into it, I've made it past the 20K word mark, but I'm falling behind target. At 1667 words per day, by the end of last night I should have reached half way, or 25K words. Didn't quite get there, but hopefully I'll be able to catch up this weekend, which is blissfully free of familial birthday ceremonies.

What have I learned so far?

Writing at this pace is isolating. I'm using up almost all of my lunch hour by making sure I only spend five minutes microwaving food and eating it. People in my office went for a $5 steak lunch yesterday and I had to say no. Thinking about it now makes my mouth water: I could really use a steak and I'm probably lacking in iron and protein.
It's also tiring. I've been getting into odd sleeping habits like two hour naps when I get home. My sleep is fitful because I often spend the hour before lying on the couch or in bed coming up with new plot points.
Speaking of plotting, I can safely say that my first fortnight's worth of writing went far more smoothly than the rest is shaping up to be. This is because I'd spent a few months cooking up the beginning and had good notes on the first part of the novel, roughly fifty pages. This whole process is panning out much the same as it did with my first novel, where I knew what would happen at the beginning and the end and very little idea about the whole middle chunk.
In two weeks I have produced over 20,000 words, roughly 80 pages. That's almost a third of an entire novel. In two weeks. And it seems to be of better quality than previous efforts. I suppose I've learned a lot about writing over the last two years and that certainly helps. Also having been through the process before, I'm aware of some of my work habits and where they lead.
I'm still excited about this novel. Some of the scenes I've written are pushing me to new limits: I've been experimenting with dreamlike sequences set in the past, seen by my main character, Jules Nolan, through the eyes of someone living in 1910s Australia. I'm using techniques I've come across in thrillers--techniques I've shunned in the past--and I'm using them with good reason: they suit the story.
Music has helped get me into character for particular scenes. It's really helped me to maintain the voice I want for the writing. I'm shooting for prose that has a deadening feel. Words that remove the smile from your face. I desperately hope this novel will inspire feelings of dread and I think that after the revision process, there's a good chance it will.

P.J. Parrish is going to be putting my novel's current opening through the wringer as part of her Booky Noise series. I'm fully expecting to cringe at some of my mistakes, but I'm also hoping to learn something. I've never had feedback on a novel at this early a stage, so it should be interesting and eye opening.

When it comes around, I'll post about it here. Feel free to join in and tell me exactly what parts of my head are up my arse.

Now, back to 'bum on chair, fingers on keyboard'.

The Concrete Maze by Steven Torres

2006-11-10T13:01:00.001+11:00

Steven Torres was kind enough to send me a pre-ARC of his upcoming novel, THE CONCRETE MAZE, due out by Dorchester Publishing in July 2007. He did this after taking a look at one of my short stories. This is how nice Steven is: after he does you a favour, all he asks is that you allow him to do you another.

He may be nice, but the subject matter of THE CONCRETE MAZE isn't. More and more, it seems to be the novel that everyone wanted him to write. Darker and more concentrated than his PRECINCT PUERTO RICO series, the new novel is set in the Bronx, New York. Like his other books, it still revolves around a Puerto Rican community, but in this case it centers on a single family.

Seen through the eyes of young Marc Ramos, it starts off as a search for his cousin, led by ex-Vietnam uncle, Tio Luis ('Tio' means 'uncle'). Marc is dragged along, losing plenty of sleep, as Tio Luis searches for his daughter Jasmine, who it seems has got herself mixed up with the wrong crowd. Not a hard thing to do in the Bronx.

I told you the novel was darker, so don't be surprised when things turn from frustrating to tragic as the novel progresses. Without spoiling it for you, a particular scene about half way through had me physically choking up with emotion. I can't think of a novel that's made me feel this strongly in a long time.

Issues of racism and prostitution underpin the story, but at its core, the novel is about family.

Torres has an innate grasp of what it is to be part of a family. The loyalty and determination of the main characters, the nurturing mothers, the extension of cousins, aunties and uncles, all of this is easy to relate to. Especially if, like me, you have grown up in a European family. The values seem the same, and while this novel gave me a better appreciation of Puerto Rican culture, Steven's talent here is to make it universal.

Steven worries that he wrote one of his other novels, MISSING IN PRECINCT PUERTO RICO, with anger, and that this may not be the best way to get a message across. If that novel is his angry one, I can't wait to read it.

That scene will stay with me for a long time.

NaNoWriMo: Music

2006-11-09T10:53:00.000+11:00

I've been building playlists to keep me company through the month of November, and I thought I'd share a few select tracks. I gave myself a limit of one song per artist because I am nothing without some form of denial.

MUSIC TO WAKE UP TO

Rage Against The Machine: War Within A Breath
P.J. Harvey: Me-Jane
The Black Keys: Just Got To Be
Gogol Bordello: Not A Crime
Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings: Got A Thing On My Mind

RATM and Gogol Bordello are great songs for the shower, although you have to watch out not to bang the shower head. Sharon Jones never fails to make me move my ass. Usually that means a trip to get more coffee, but hey, at least it's movement.

MUSIC TO WRITE TO

Portishead: Elysium
Radiohead: Remyxomatosis (Cristian Vogel Remix)
Martina Topley-Bird: Too Tough To Die
Tom Waits: Make It Rain
Skip James: Devil Got My Woman

Elysium is the song that sets the mood I'm trying to achieve for the entire novel, while Devil Got My Woman helps me get all old-timey for my 'dream sequences' set in the past.

MUSIC TO WIND DOWN TO

The Kinks: This Time Tomorrow
Las Pesadillas: Everybody Died But Me
Mouse On Mars: Papa, Antoine
Moloko: Being Is Bewildering
The Finn Brothers: Gentle Hum

When you've got a billion ideas swirling around in your brain, there's nothing like some chill-out tunes to slow down the pace. Papa, Antoine's the clear winner for me: It's like the closing hours of a Tiki bar on a space station.

NaNoWriMo: The Drug Wars

2006-11-08T09:59:00.000+11:00

Working full time and doing my best to fit in the requisite amount of NaNo-writing per day is leaving me a little worse for wear. Generally, I'm a terrible sleeper so this isn't so much of an issue, but when I'm trying to think carefully about a number of things at once, after already spending the whole day doing the same ... I need help.

The kind of help only drugs can give.

Here are my drug-related tips for anyone crazy enough to spend a month writing their arse off:

Whiskey: Only to be used in short bursts, and only if the dreaded Inner Editor is stronger than usual. The drop in inhibitions and judgement is offset by the danger of falling asleep at the computer.
Coffee: For most, this will be the poison of choice. Whether cafe style, plunger or instant, the caffeine hit is sure to get the synapses firing on overtime, if only for a short burst. And that's where the problem with coffee lies: for me, the ups-and-downs are too erratic. Best used to simply wake up with every day.
Coke: Ah, the good old Dynamic Ribbon of sugar and cocaine. Doesn't work quite like that these days, but the sugar gives you just enough energy while you wait for the caffeine to hit. Vanilla Coke is my favourite, because I'm a sucker for anything that I'm told is 'intriguing.' For the amount you have to drink to get the brain chugging, the sheer quantity of sugar will immediately bring about total weight gain. Best not to use too often, like I do.
Pepsi Max: The most useful competitor to Coke, this version of Pepsi supposedly has maximum taste without the sugar. The taste of anything using artificial sweeteners is questionable at best, but the amount of caffeine in this drink is eminently useful for late-night writing sessions. All this, without the weight gain.
Red Bull: I've picked this as the leader of the energy drinks because it's the most well known. Like V and Columbian Cola, this can give serious jitters, leaving you awake and non-functional as writer for long after consumption. Best drunk at nightclubs if you can't afford anything illegal.

If you read the list in detail, the clear winner is Pepsi Max. I tested it last night when I was feeling particularly tired and it gave me the writing boost I needed to stay on target. I'd be worried about drinking it on a constant basis, due to the artificial sweeteners, but overall, it gets the NaNo-ThumbsUp from me.

NaNoWriMo: Procrastination

2006-11-06T13:25:00.000+11:00

WATER BALLOON RECORD

April 2006, Coogee Beach, Sydney, Australia: the venue for a water balloon fight that broke a world record. 2,849 participants threw 55,000 water balloons.

I was one of them. Got seriously soaked. Loved it.

Now, back to work.

P.S: Happy 60th birthday to my mum, and best of luck to Stuart MacBride on this day of dread.