AMBIENT NOYES

by James Lincoln Warren

Have you ever heard of Ernest U. Kinsey? Probably not, but I’ll lay you fifteen to one that you’ve used his invention, or at least the simplified version of it introduced by Noyes Palmer Chapman.

Kinsey invented a puzzle consisting of 35 numbered square tiles inside a square frame and patented it in 1878 as “Puzzle Blocks”. The tiles and the frame were grooved, forming a 6×6 matrix, so you could move individual tiles up or down or sideways and change their order. The object of the game was to arrange the tiles in sequence. I know nothing else of Mr. Kinsey but this reference found in a 1902 trade journal called Telephony:

Noyes Chapman was a civil servant, the Postmaster of Canastota, New York, a small town east of Syracuse. Chapman’s version had only 15 blocks, but he was denied a patent for it in 1880 because it was too similar to Kinsey’s. To us, though, it is more familiar—the famous “15 puzzle”.1

In 1896, Sam Loyd, the “Puzzle Prince” of the 19th century and the author of a couple of very challenging puzzle books I have on my book shelf, claimed to have invented the 15 puzzle twenty years before, but he was a notorious liar—Martin Gardner called him “America’s greatest puzzler . . . but also obviously a hustler.”2

Now, I don’t usually stray into mathematical games, Leigh being our resident Puzzle Master (as I have noted before). But metaphor being my life, I am always struck by the analogy between recreational puzzles and crime stories. Usually a fair-play mystery is described as a jigsaw—Lord Hogbottom3 deduces from the callus on Colin St. Clare’s thumb that he secretly plays the clarinet in a Soho Dixieland jazz club on weekends, and is therefore the murderer. The last piece is put into place!

The jigsaw puzzle is a good metaphor, since you can’t see the picture until the pieces are fitted together, and that’s what the detective metaphorically does in a mystery. But it’s not a great metaphor. After all, most of the time, that last piece isn’t really needed for one to see the picture, is it? So in a strict sense, a slide puzzle is more accurately representative of a fair-play mystery short story than a jigsaw is, especially if the tiles are letters instead of numbers.

If you can’t see it, allow me to explain.

The 15 puzzle puts exactly the same basic principles into play as a fair-play mystery short story does. If you accept each letter as a clue, and posit that the solution to the mystery is what the letters are supposed to spell out, then the analogy becomes crystal clear. First, all the clues are plainly visible. Secondly, they are revealed out of order and context. Thirdly, the puzzle is too compact to permit any complex red herrings. And lastly, the clues’ significance is entirely in how they interrelate . I think that’s a pretty good description of a classic detective story, don’t you?

But speaking of clues, I myself have not a one as to what the letter puzzle above is supposed to spell out. I’m hopeless with anagrams. Maybe it’s in French or German, anyway.

Anyone?

1. AKA the “slide puzzle”, “gem puzzle”, “mystic square”, etc. [↩]
2. By the way, the particular puzzle shown is arranged according to one of Sam Loyd’s shameless publicity stunts. When Loyd was claiming to be the inventer of the puzzle, he also offered a $1000 reward to anyone who could solve this particular puzzle, knowing that it is impossible to do so with the 15 and 14 reversed as they are. It became something of a fad to try and solve it, but of course it was a complete waste of time. [↩]
3. In case you were wondering, Lord Hogbottom was invented by Jan Burke some years ago to illustrate how not to post Blatant Self Promotion (known in the trade as “BSP”) messages on SoCalMWA‘s listserv, of which she was the founder and first moderator: “My latest Lord Hogbottom novel has been nominated for a Piggy! I am so excited!” I’ve used his name to represent the generic amateur ratiocinative sleuth ever since, as a natural foil to the venerable Inspector Plod and Garrison Keillor’s archetypal hard-boiled P.I. Guy Noir. [↩]

NEWSWORTHY (Update)

by Leigh Lundin

An earlier article about the temporary loss of Apple’s latest iPhone focused on legal efforts to weaken freedom of the press. The so-called democratization of news is poised to leave reporters and even crime writers with fewer civil liberties rather than more.

As newspapers around the nation wither into ashes and dust, prosecutors from coast to coast are taking the position that on-line news blogs do not enjoy First Amendment rights. In the iPhone case, San Mateo County’s Deputy DA Stephen Wagstaffe apparently convinced a court that freedom of the press does not apply to on-line news outlets.

Sock-Puppet Prosecution

I’ve long respected Apple’s Steve Jobs but his peevishness is wearing thin. He and Wagstaffe seem to mouth each other’s words:

"Who can say if Jason Chen’s a journalist? [Further,] there’s a debate as to whether the iPhone was left in a bar or stolen out of [an employee’s] bag."

What? Funny, there hadn’t been any debate until the DA began to spin finding the iPhone as theft. Seems like Apple or Gray Powell would have reported a stolen prototype had that been the case.

Prosecutor in Search of a Crime?

You may remember Gawker’s technology news site Gizmodo paid $5000 to the iPhone’s finder and returned the phone to Apple. [case timeline] You would think Jobs would be appreciative, but the aftermath has taken the shape of a vendetta, fueled by an attention-hungry prosecutor.

While the finder of the iPhone, Brian Hogan, may have behaved in a less than exemplary manner, it’s hardly worth trampling the First Amendment rights of reporter Chen, which, after all, are our rights. As prosecutors are now posturing, National Enquirer and your weekly throw-away shopper enjoy constitutional protection that a news blog agency does not.

If the trend continues, once print media newspapers are gone, what’s left for the First Amendment to protect?

A Final Word

"Liberty of the press is the right of the lonely pamphleteer."

– US Supreme Court: Branzburg v. Hayes, 1972

Thank you!

Thank you for your warm comments and support last week. Thank you.

THE FIRST LITTLE PIGGY

by John M. Floyd

Last September I did a column about reference books for the craft of writing, which included resources like Stephen King’s On Writing, Noah Lukeman’s The First Five Pages, etc. I have a weakness for that kind of how-to book, and as you might expect, some of them are better than others.

The same is true of books and web sites that assist writers in finding markets for their work. There aren’t as many of these “how to sell” resources as there are for “how to write,” but they can be just as important. Today I’ll mention several that have helped me find places to sell my stories, and if you’re a writer looking for publication and don’t use them already, maybe they can help you as well.

They — like the markets themselves — come in two flavors: print and online. The best print resource, in my opinion, is the annual Novel & Short Story Writers Market, published by Writers Digest Books each year. It used to come out in September or October, but lately I think I’ve seen it on bookstore shelves as early as August. It sells for around $25, and is worth every penny.

To the short story (non-nonfiction?) writer, its advantage over the huge — and hugely popular — Writers Market book is that N&SSWM focuses on fiction only, and provides lists of magazine markets, novel publishers, and literary agents. And the index is structured such that you can also look up markets by category; if you’ve written a short mystery, for example, you can see a listing only of magazines that accept that genre.

Other print resources include publications like Writer’s Digest, The Writer, and Writers’ Journal. The first two of these magazines come out monthly, and all three regularly list markets and contact information. Every issue of WD also features a fiction-writing article by Nancy Kress, who usually names several current markets in a sidebar.

The last print resource I can think of (not the last resort; the last resource) is the publication itself. If you’re fortunate enough to be able to put your hands and eyes on an actual copy of the magazine that you’re thinking of submitting to, read all the stories in that issue. It’s probably the best way to determine whether that market will be receptive to your kind of work.

As for online resources, here are a few that have been helpful to me. Some of them say they’re specific to certain genres, but they often list publications that accept other genres as well. Story Pilot, for example, lists Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, even though the site description says they feature only SF/fantasy markets.

Duotrope Digest
Story Pilot
Writers Write
Jacqui Bennett Writers Bureau
Jan Christensen’s mystery links
Ralan’s Extravaganza
Towse’s links
Fiction Factor
Short Mystery Fiction Society

The other tried-and-true way to find markets (both print and electronic) is to just do an online search with keywords like “short story markets” or “short fiction markets.” I did this a few weeks ago to try to find a place to submit a western story I’d just finished. A Google search for “short western markets” revealed a web site for the print magazine Prairie Times, in Colorado. I submitted the story and they bought it — but without the Internet I might never have known the magazine existed.

According to John McCollister, in his book Writing for Dollars, two things separate those who are published on a regular basis from the “wanna-be” writers: “The first is a passion for the craft. A second key to success . . . is to know how to market your material.” If you write the best story ever written and then keep it in your sock drawer, or send it out to the wrong places, the world will never see it. It might remain the best story ever written, but you’re the only person who’ll know that.

The point is, take your stories and go to market. Don’t be like the second little piggy: he’s the one who stayed home.

READ MY LIPS

by Steven Steinbock

My lips don’t move when I read. But if you watch carefully, you might catch a slight movement of the mouth muscles. People often bandy that about as an insult. “His lips move when he reads” is another way of saying that someone is uneducated or a poor reader.

Well, read my lips! I read slowly, but I’m not stupid.

Not only does the proverbial tortoise win the race, he gets to enjoy the scenery far more than the hare.

Lately I’ve had several similar conversations with people. It always starts with an apologetic and embarrassed, “I’m not a very fast reader.” But often when I push I find that these people are not only wise and well-read, but they have a musical appreciation of words.

I spoke with Jeffery Deaver a couple weeks ago, just before the announcement that he’d be penning the next James Bond novel. I didn’t ask Jeff if read slowly or rapidly, but I can conjecture. He told me:

I like the economy, the lyricism of words. I like the necessity of thinking about what you’re going to write before you write it and I like the way words go together. I like the combined impact of form and content. Style is aural. There’s just something about a good turn of phrase, not in a clever punning way, but in that it just sounds nice.

By contrast, there are people who devour books like potato chips. They flip the pages with the rapidity of a baseball card being riffled by bicycle spokes. And damn it, they actually absorb most of what they’re reading. On the whole, I think people who read that way have better retention than I do. On the other hand, what those people are missing is the harmony of a good sentence.

People who read quickly don’t seem to be bothered by stilted, stiff prose. A clunky sentence written with a tin ear leaves me cold. But such things don’t bother the fast reader. I’ve also noticed that among fast-readers there are a high proportion of people who can’t pronounce for shit. And when they write, their prose is often stiff and stilted. It’s possible to see and understand the words, but still not hear them.

There are left-handed people and right-handed people. There are those who prefer automatic transmission and those who only drive manuals. There are those who buy raisin bagels and those who have to pick out the raisins when that’s the only kind of bagel left in the basket. People can adjust, but they can rarely change their natures.

It is my nature to read words at approximately the same speed as I would if reading aloud. When I read dialogue, I hear the voices. (And no, they’re not telling me to kill Velma).

If I must, I can read quickly, letting the image of the words bypass my aural senses and go directly to the brain. But it’s not as much fun. And it isn’t my nature.

As a book reviewer, I’m often put in situations in which I have to read several books in a short period of time. So if need be, I can read quickly. I’ll sit at the kitchen table, lean forward, place my hands on the book, and have at it like a Hassid doing morning prayers. My eyes race across the lines, allowing me to register storylines before I’ve had a chance to lose track of them. That’s not a bad thing, either. But it’s not natural for me.

It’s like using a mouse with my right hand. I’m a lefty. I’m at my computer a lot, and my posture isn’t exemplary. So my left wrist and left forefinger get stiff and sore. When this happens I’ll move the mouse to the right side of the keyboard and give my left had a rest. It’s awkward at first. And I can’t sustain it for much more than an hour. But just like fast reading, I can do it if I have to.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.

CHARACTER SWITCH

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

In workshops, I often instruct writers to become a reporter and interview their characters. I stress they should ask pressing questions to expose underlying thoughts to develop the characterization. Mainly, I wanted them to dig into what makes them who they really are beneath the façade.

Recently, I added another dimension to this exercise: What if characters were interviewed by a yellow journalist instead? What would make today’s front page? The accusations are often not true, but this doesn’t stop them from seeking hidden “facts” about the characters and print them as if they were. We’re talking tabloid here, not critical reviews.

How would our favorite authors redeem their heroes if tabloids printed :

• Mike Hammer’s headline read HAMMERED AGAIN with a photo of an open desk drawer revealing a half-empty whiskey bottle
• Photos of Perry Mason and Della Street looking a bit too cozy in a nightclub
• Dalliances with a housemaid and Nick Charles while Nora accompanied Asta to the vet
• Nero Wolfe and his secret rose garden
• Dr. Watson caught gossiping about Sherlock behind his back
• Sam Spade attending a gun control rally.

While none of these newspaper scenarios would be true, any of them could lead to a dramatic departure in the storyline and headaches for the author – or maybe not. It could spring an entire new plot line for the writer to explore.

• Hammer could be admitted to a rehab facility to help him discover the celebrity in residence responsible for distributing stolen diamonds to the highest bidder.
• Mason forces Della’s jealous stalker to stop harassing his secretary by pretending to be her suitor.
• Nick thwarts a blackmailing ring of the maid and her accomplice, the veterinarian.
• Archie Goodwin finds his boss’ secret obsession concerning the lost lover who adored roses as much as he does orchids.
• Of course the good doctor is sharing the heroic adventures of his best friend; that’s what he does.
• Sam Spade would never support gun control. He’d have to sue the paper. It’d be just another instance of tabloids printing falsehoods to sell more papers. Knowing this, the public still read and sometimes believe the headlines anyway – and keeps them from repeating actions that are working for them.

The idea of the exercise is to look beyond the expected. Perhaps the good guy is supposed to be found innocent, but it doesn’t always happen in real life, in books or on the screen. The episode of Judd for the Defense I most recall was when Judd lost the case. The prosecutor smiled at him and said something to the effect of, “Well, you can’t win them all.”
Judd pressed his lips together hard, then said, “Yes, but when you lose, nobody dies.”

When a writer takes a stereotypical character and shakes it, turns it on its side and allows it to land where it will, interesting characters evolve. From that point, everything they say and do become less predictable and more interesting.

If the tabloid were hounding you, what likely falsehood would result in the best scandal? What truth would you hope would be kept hidden from prying eyes? What could switch the public’s perception of you?

TITLE FIGHT

by Rob Lopresti

Simple question: What makes a great mystery title?

It ought to catch the eye, intrigue the mind. It should also have some telling connection to the plot of the story. Some authors seem to have an endless supply of great titles. Some of my favorite authors never come up with a single one that rings my chimes.

Here are a few that work for me, with some comments about why.

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. The ultimate hardboiled title, leading to thousands of imitations with Bigs and metaphors for death.

The Goodbye Look by Ross MacDonald. See above.

I, The Jury by Mickey Spillaine.

The Big Boat To Byebye by Ellis Weiner. You know it’s a comic take on hardboiled, right? Exactly.

The Last Camel Died At Noon by Elizabeth Peters. Right away you know this isn’t a traditional mystery, but an adventure story. It takes place in the desert, and things ain’t gonna go so well. Another great, very different Peter title: Naked Once More.

A Bad Day For Sorry by Sophie Littlefield. I know nothing about this book except it was nominated for Best First Mystery this year, and has both a great title and cover.

The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover by Kinky Friedman. If you slept through high school English, this is a reference to T.S. Eliot’s most famous poem. Kinky is a special case. It is not uncommon for his titles to be better than the books they adorn. There’s also Armadillos and Old Lace, and Elvis, Jesus, and Coca-Cola (the three English words that are known everywhere on earth.)

Morons and Madmen by Earl Emerson. In some ways Earl is the opposite of Kinky. There is a positive correlation between the quality of the title and the quality of the book. Other favorites: Help Wanted: Orphans Preferred, The Dead Horse Paint Company, and Going Crazy In Public.

When The Sacred Ginmill Closes by Lawrence Block. Block picks great hardboiled titles for the Matt Scudder series: A Stab in the Dark, Long Line of Dead Men, etc. But this novel is about a recovering alcoholic detective remembering a case from his drinking days. What could be a better title than this line from Dave Van Ronk’s salute to barroom life, “Final Call?”

Everybody Smokes In Hell by John Ridley. A hate letter to L.A. with one of the funniest, nastiest, opening scenes I have ever run across.

They Don’t Play Stickball in Milwaukee by Reed Farrell Coleman.

Dancehall of the Dead by Tony Hillerman.

The Doorbell Rang by Rex Stout.

Greed & Stuff by Jay Russell.

Voodoo, Ltd. by Ross Thomas. Artie Wu and Quincy Durant, two of Thomas’s series characters, are troubleshooters of a kind. Their company is called Wudu, Ltd. but their client mispronounces it, mostly to annoy them. And to tell us that they will work their very non-supernatural magic on the case of a movie star accused of murder.

Who The Hell Is Wanda Fuca? by G.M. Ford. Maybe you have to live in the Pacific Northwest to think this is a great title. The Strait of Juan De Fuca separates the Olympic Peninsula from Vancouver Island. The quirky Seattle homeless people (like the one who asks the title question) separate Ford’s novels from the average P.I. novel.

And a few from a special category…

They each started a series.

Friday The Rabbi Slept Late by Harry Kemelman.

A Is For Alibi, by Sue Grafton.

One For The Money, by Janet Evanovich.

Over to you…

What are your favorite mystery novel titles?

SHORT STORY TRAILERS

by Douglas Grant Johnson, R. T. Lawton, and Stephen Ross

Most of you have probably heard of “book trailers”—short animations on the web meant to advertise books in the same manner that “Coming Attractions” advertise movies in theaters. Our good friend R. T. Lawton, whose “Mystery Masterclass” column from August of 2007 you can find here, has been in correspondence with our own Rob Lopresti, on the subject of short story trailers. R.T. says he first encountered them by AHMM contributor and filmmaker Douglas Grant Johnson, and was inspired to try making his his own. So here are four short story trailers for stories appearing in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, the first by Doug, the middle two by R.T., and the last (recommended by R.T.) by another guest columnist here at CB, our Kiwi buddy Stephen Ross.

What do you think?