Cruising the Green of Second Avenue

What’s a friend for if not to make you feel good, eh? A very early (1959 or so) friend just wrote, “Indeed, let me tell you how much I enjoyed reading your short stories” in Cruisng the Green of Second Avenue. (Okay, commercial break: take a moment and click on http://www.wildchildpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=74&zenid=ff94c21f95111b27e8b7210244ac97a3.)

Now, that is really nice, first, because many friends have promised to buy the book since it was published a year ago, but the royalties don’t even approach the number of commitments I’ve gotten. Second, he not only bought the book, he read it. “I really admire your talent,” he wrote, “to recreate and invent those most improbable situations and these wonderful characters who resurface รก la Faulkner from place to place, smoking (as I used to) Picayune cigarettes or needing to hide their tattoos. Your surprising codas or abrupt plots turning around as in the “Sound of Music” with la belle Ellen Schuster or the hermaphrodite-assumed son of the forger-embezzeler Carl [“The Man Who Put the Sin in Cynic”] give the reader a deserved kick in the pants. Notice I am practicing compound nouns preparing myself for Germany. It’s a delight to “se promener, oder spazieren” in the company of Anderson (a nasty but correct portrait of the Lit Prof in “Donna and the Love Contract”) with his verbal duels. (Once I bought the same sheets at Conran’s and for the same purpose), or Klein the biker and his practical jokes [in “Klein Comes Back Abashed”], the precocious Benny Three Sticks [“The Kid’s Got Smarts”] in remembrance of J.D. Salinger to whom you introduced me in 1959.

Ah, mon vieux ami, you made me go back and read “Astroturfing Benjamin’s Books” the eighth story in Vol. I. And here I am astroturfing my own book, reality imitating art. Thank you for bringing a ray of sunshine into this snowy, overcast January day!

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Death of a Webzine

Sad words this week from Chad Plunk, who founded and ran Short Fiction World (http://shortfictionworld.com). He’s shuttering his Windows and turning out the lights—and rejecting my submission before deciding to accept or reject it.

He wrote to me, “I’ve had a number of personal issues arise and we’re going to cease publication. The announcement will go out to everybody who has stories waiting this weekend, and officially be posted on the website. We don't have the time to commit that we expected and would rather do no job than a poor one.”

I suppose this also means the archival death of “Modern Love,” my story that he published in February this year. This leads to an interesting thought as people increasingly Google friends, associates, lovers and themselves. I check my name periodically and am surprised to see a history of my fiction, articles and press releases. Plus, there are links to my grandmother’s Chautauqua lectures, archived at the University of Iowa. And my great grandfather’s Civil War diaries online at MilitaryHistory.com. Writing lives on long after other things have changed.

Is Internet “biography” a new form of posterity, more enduring than a tombstone and less expensive than an endowed university chair? Perhaps. Conversely, if in the future there’s no electronic representation of a person on the Web, does he or she have less existence?

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Humor in a Jugular Vein

I’ve always wondered if mystery writers—even readers—had a sense of humor. Noir isn’t funny and Sam Spade was never jocular. Of course, no one ever admits, “Gee, I’m sorry, but I’ve always been challenged by humor.”

So, with some trepidation I tried putting a satirical shot across the bow of detective fiction and came up with “The Case of the Checkered Murder” (www.MysteryAuthors.com, "Minute Mystery") to see what might happen. Self consciously, I then interviewed myself since no one else has come forward to ask pertinent (even impertinent) questions. Hey, if the esteemed playwright David Mamet can interview himself (since he never gives interviews), I thought, why don’t I give that a shot too? You can read it at MysteryAuthors’ blog link.

My thanks to super editor Lisa Logan at MysteryAuthors.com who proved satirical humor is acceptable. A small part of me, though, still remembers my journalism professor warning us budding news writers, “Death is never funny.”