Showing posts with label NY Times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NY Times. Show all posts

Monday, April 23, 2018

MONDAY'S MEAL IS OUT!

Hi folks,

My first collection of short stories, Monday's Meal, was released in ebook format today from the good folks at Down and Out Press. It was originally published as a paperback by the University of North Texas Press and was nominated for the Violet Crown Book Award. This is the writing I'm the proudest of. It received rave reviews by such as the NT Times,Texas Monthly, Publisher's Weekly, the School Library Journal,  and by such august literary organizations as Studies in Short Fiction. Some of the brightest literary writers gave it their thumbs-up.

Amazon link


Two of the stories were written when I was 12 and 13. At 12 I wrote, "Hard Times" and a year later, I lay on my couch and wrote "Broken Seashells." Most of the other stories were written before I was 21. Currently, at the behest of my agent, Svetlana Pironko, who urged me to expand "Hard Times" into a novel (which I'm doing) and who told me the story has "haunted her" since she read it and said that if I wrote it well, it could rival NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN.

The story, "I Shoulda Seen a Credit Arranger" which appeared in the South Carolina Review, was later expanded into my novel titled THE GENUINE, IMITATION, PLASTIC KIDNAPPING and also the screenplay of the same title which placed as a Finalist in both the Writer's Guild and the Best of Austin competitions.

And THE MOCKINGBIRD CAFE and another story not in this collection, IN THE ZONE, were both published by the august litmag, High Plains Literary Review, whose editor, Dr. Robert O. Greer, told me several years later that he assumed I was a black writer (Dr. Greer is a black man) and was very surprised to discover I was white. That was quite a complement!

I'm  very proud that these stories represent a myriad of voices, including a black man, a woman, a deranged prison inmate and many other personas. I think if you didn't see a single name on this collection, you'd just assume it was a collection of a number of writers. I really don't see many contemporary writers capable of doing this and that gives me a lot of pride.

I hope that this book will be exposed to an entirely new generation and that they find it compelling.

If you do read it and enjoy it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. That's the single best thing anyone can do to help out a writer.

Here's what others had to say about MM: 


Reviews

For MONDAY’S MEAL

The sad wives, passive or violent husbands, parolees, alcoholics and other failures in Leslie H. Edgerton's short-story collection are pretty miserable people. And yet misery does have its uses. Raymond Carver elevated the mournful complaints of the disenfranchised in his work, and Edgerton makes an admirable attempt to do the same. He brings to this task an unerring ear for dialogue and a sure-handed sense of place (particularly New Orleans, where many of the stories are set). Edgerton has affection for even his most despicable characters—"boring" Robert, who pours scalding water over his sleeping wife in "The Last Fan"; Jake, the musician responsible for his own daughter's death in "The Jazz Player"; and Tommy in 'I Shoulda Seen a Credit Arranger," whose plan to get hold of some money involves severing the arm of a rich socialite—but he never takes the reader past the brink of horrible fascination into a deeper understanding. In the best story, "My Idea of a Nice Thing," a woman named Raye tells us why she drinks: "My job. I'm a hairdresser. See, you take on all of these other people's personalities and troubles and things, 10 or 12 of 'em a day, and when the end of the day comes, you don't know who you are anymore. It takes three drinks just to sort yourself out again." Here Edgerton grants both the reader and Raye the grace of irony, and without his authorial intrusion, we find ourselves caring about her predicament.—Denise Gess. The New York Times Book Review, November 16, 1997

*                                                          *                                                          *
Leslie H. Edgerton's new collection fully meets John Updike's explanation of why we read short stories: "Each is a glimpse into another country: an occasion for surprise, an excuse for wisdom, and an argument for charity." The country of Edgerton's stories, in geographic terms, is New Orleans and the Texas Gulf Coast. In human terms, Edgerton's territory is peopled by nightclub musicians, cafe owners, teenage delinquents, inmates and ex-cons, the poor and uneducated, the heartless and violent, and a snooty former debutante.
Monday's Meal is a busy collection of twenty-one stories. A handful of these include recurring characters, enhancing the sense throughout the book that Edgerton is writing about a community rather than simply a series of individuals. The character with whom we become best acquainted is Evan, a.k.a. Pete: "Now Pete's not my real name, it's my middle name. Peter, actually. But when your first name's Evan, and you hang out where I do, you want to use something else." Evan/Pete hangs out in the seedier precincts of New Orleans. In "I Shoulda Seen a Credit Arranger" and "Ten Cents a Dance," he gets involved in, respectively, a botched kidnapping and the pursuit of an uninterested prostitute. His ex-wife, the blueblood narrator of "Princess," finds it horrific how he now "hangs out with low-lifes, even street people. God!" Evan/Pete, though, is a street-wise, philosophizing, get-by-as-best-you-can kind of guy who moves through a part of New Orleans never viewed from the tour bus.
Evan/Pete is an amusing character, yet not all of Edgerton's down-and -outers are. "The Jazz Player" portrays an angry young man desperate to release "that intense, throbbing, terrible, last blast of pent-up fury and frustration and guilt and anguish and loss and death." In "The Mockingbird Cafe," one of the strongest stories here for its concision, a black prison escapee endures a white cop's tormenting of him and then sullenly walks away. In "Rubber Band," a kid just released from the reformatory, made cynical and weary of the world, anticipates his own snapping point. While Edgerton can sketch a city hardship scene comparable to Joseph Mitchell's--and several of the stories have the casualness of familiar essays about them--Edgerton establishes the kind of convincing, and wrenching, interiority with his characters achieved by only the most adept fiction writers.
Edgerton does not write exclusively about people living on society's fringe. Sometimes his characters--as in "The Last Fan," about a dullard husband's violent turn, or "Voodoo Love," about a yuppie couple's falling out--are simply headed in that direction. To his credit, Edgerton aims for range in his characters. While suspicion of identity interlopers across ethnic and gender lines is often justified, the smart writer adopts various personae in order to strive for empathy and understanding, rather than appropriation. "My Idea of a Right Thing" exemplifies this purpose in its striking account of a woman's struggle with alcoholism and the (often) predominantly male world of Alcoholics Anonymous. Less dramatic, though no less vivid, "Telemarketing" is the story of a woman dealing with an emotionally distant husband and a pair of needy neighbors as she runs the cafe she owns and longs to have a child.
Even Edgerton's most harrowing stories, such as "Hard Times," about the deadly abandonment of a woman and her children, read effortlessly. The prose throughout is vibrant and precise. At times, the author's sharp ear for colloquial mannerisms tends to turn his speakers into Runyonesque caricatures, as when the high-brow belle in "Princess" exclaims indignantly, "Why, I'd just die!" On the other hand, such dialect adds as much local color as references to the Camellia Cafe or beignets. A case in point: after protesting how he was "bum-rapped on that litigious," the narrator of "Dream Flyer" gripes about the "effrippery" of his jailers for putting him in the same cell with an "orignal-diginal" like the Dream Flyer, who's scheduled to be "exterminated for something he didn't do." In fiction as in life, I suppose, better too much of a good thing than not enough.
Once again, the University of North Texas Press deserves high praise for its commitment to publishing superb contemporary fiction. Leslie H. Edgerton is a writer one should continue to seek out in the literary magazines and on the new-releases shelf.
Studies in Short Fiction, Summer, 1997,  by Peter Donahue, Sam Houston State University
COPYRIGHT 1997 Studies in Short Fiction
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group

                                        *                                                          

Reading Les Edgerton’s stories is like listening to those old World War II broadcasts from the London blitz, with the reporter crouching under a restaurant table, microphone in hand, while the bombs drop on the city and the ceiling caves in. Edgerton reports on the world and the news is not good. There’s a kind of wacky wisdom in these bulletins from the underside of life; the stories are full of people you hope never move in next door, for whom ordinary life is an impossible dream. This is good fiction; Edgerton writes lean and nasty prose.
                        Dr. Francois Camoin, Director, Graduate School of English, University of Utah and author of Benbow and Paradise, Like Love, But Not Exactly, Deadly Virtues, The End of the World Is Los Angeles and Why Men Are Afraid of Women.

                                                      *                                                          
Les Edgerton is much more than a fiction writer or a story teller. When you read his work, your ears prick up, your eyes go wide, and your spine tingles. You get the sense that Edgerton has been there, lived the lives of his characters, fought their fights, cried their tears, placed their bets, drank their Wild Turkey, smoked their cigarettes. He writes with a stunning accuracy, a convincing authority and a stark reality. At the same time, he strikes a balance between beauty, sensitivity and humor. Edgerton isn’t concerned with keeping your interest. He wants to reach into your heart, tear it out, hold it for you while it’s still beating! His New Orleans and South Texas settings are as rough, romantic and quintessentially American as the writer himself. His themes are Ray Carver meets Charles Bukowski. Edgerton is not just another stunning narrative talent, he is an important narrative authority--a master of his or any other generation.
                        Vincent Zandri, Author of As Catch Can, Permanence, and Godchild.

                                                  *                                                          
Monday’s Meal is filled to bursting with writing you can taste. Whether dining on bisque and blackened redfish at an upscale cafe, or eating rank mule meat in a pine board cabin, the characters in Edgerton’s world bite down hard and grind up one another with their back teeth. Their authenticity is palpable as soft-shelled clams; these are sad, mean, fully human characters who long for connection almost as fiercely as they fear it. Monday’s Meal is a most satisfyingly vivid and visceral feast.
                        Melody Henion Stevenson, Author of The Life Stone of Singing Bird

                                                          *                                                          
Edgerton’s best stories are uncompromising in their casual amorality. They stare you down over the barrel of a gun, rip you up whether or not the trigger gets squeezed.
                        Diane Lefer, Creative writing teacher at UCLA and on the MFA in Writing Faculty at Vermont College. Author of The Circles I Move In and has received fellowships from the NEA as well as five PEN Syndicated Fiction prizes.
                                                          *                                                          

From his New Orleans’ setting, Les Edgerton creates a vivid and compelling world. We feel the rhythm of his language and live in the skins of his characters. Altogether, a memorable experience.
                        Gladys Swan, Faculty member, Missouri University and on the MFA in Writing faculty at Vermont College. Author of A Visit To Stranger, Do You Believe in Cabeza de Vaca? and other novels and collections.

                                                         *                                                          
Les Edgerton updates Everyman for the turn of this century. Their resumes filled with failed relationships, hapless schemes and desultory crimes, his characters inhabit some of the hardest ground south of the Mason-Dixon, a place where the tragic often turns a corner only to collide with the comic, and where the closest thing to hope is a shrug.
                        Carol Anshaw, Author of Aquamarine  and Seven Moves. A recipient of the National Book Critics Circle Citation for Excellence in Reviewing, winner of the Carl Sandburg Award and the Society of Midland Authors Award, and a recipient of a NEA Fellowship.

                                                          *                                                          
Humor, tragedy, all part of 'Monday's Meal'
By Darragh Doiron
Got a few days to spend in New Orleans? Or some other part of Texas, like Freeport?
            "Monday's Meal" is Leslie H. Edgerton's collection of short stories that take readers to cafes, lonely apartments and to Big Easy dance halls, bars and restaurants.
            The burly, bald man in the Saints jacket pictured on the book's back is a hair dresser. Edgerton also teaches creative writing online for the UCLA Extension Writers Program. Some of his characters are hair dressers, or dog groomers, too.
            It was my pleasure to relax with his character studies. In "Blue Skies" a man think about how his mentally challenged daughter will always take her bite from the middle of her sandwich, not from the corner like adults do.
            "My Idea of a Nice Thing" stops in on an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and "Hard Times" captures the despair of a family starving in their cabin. In "A Shortness of Breath" a old herb woman reveals why all the men in a family seem to die at age 47—they really die when they use up all the breaths they've been allotted.
            There's humor and tragedy in this University of North Texas Press release ($14.95, 817-565-2142). I love how his characters' actions point out the difference between New Orleans natives and tourists. Port Arthur News, August 2, 1998

                                                          *                                                          
From Library Journal
This collection of short fiction by the author of The Death of Tarpons (LJ 3/15/96) contains considerable variety of tone, voice, and subject matter, but the majority of the stories fall into two distinct groups. A large number of stories focus on troubled and deeply self-absorbed men who seem surprised to find themselves in failed romantic relationships. These men stoically endure the collapse of relationships they have helped destroy, and Edgerton handles the psychological complexities of both his male and his female protagonists very effectively. A number of other stories focus on marginal Pulp Fiction types who are haunted by personal demons and are drawn to violence. In stories that range in tone from the comic and farcical to the darkly tragic and grim, Edgerton draws memorable portraits of these dangerous and unpredictable characters. Many of the stories in this collection are set in and around New Orleans, and Edgerton describes this milieu well. Recommended. Patrick Sullivan, Manchester Community-Technical Coll., Ct.
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.

                                                         *                                                          

YA—This collection of 21 unsettling stories will appeal to readers looking for nontraditional contemporary plots with characters living on the fringes of society. These strange tales often revolve around macabre happenings, such as dismemberment, murder, kidnapping, cannibalism, or death. Many are set in the French Quarter of New Orleans with its jazz musicians, numerous bars, night walkers, and even voodoo. Several selections will haunt readers for some time as events often take a morbid twist; others will leave them wondering about the endings. YAs who enjoy reading Stephen King or watching The Twilight Zone will eat up these unique, often gruesome, at times humorous, short stories.Dottie Kraft. School Library Journal, January, 1998

                                                          *                                                          
Jane Bouterse's WRITERS AT WORK (KTXK Radio)
The Book: MONDAY'S MEAL Stories by Leslie H. Edgerton
(Excerpts)
Monday, in the older South, was traditionally washday, and a week's worth of dirty laundry meant a day of hard labor. Large families still had to be fed, so Monday's meals were often "one pot" concoctions with a little bit of everything, including surprise ingredients. But simmered all together Monday's meal was frequently the best meal of the week. Thus Texas born Leslie Edgerton entitled his first collection of short stories MONDAY'S MEAL.
            Edgerton's stories are a concoction, including surprise ingredients. They happen in all kinds of places: New Orleans, Indiana, the small towns of Texas, the streets of the Big Easy, the poverty stricken South. The people who populate the stories include both the predictable and the unusual. For example, not this description of the protagonist in his story "The Bad Part of Town:" "He was so mean that wherever he was standing became the bad part of town." Other characters include dance hall girls, recovering alcoholics making tough choices, jazz players, Arnold and Amelia Critchen, victims of hard times, a spoiled Princess, or an old man gathering seashells and remembering. The cast is large and varied and demanding because a reader cannot leave them without having shared a bit of his own humanity and discovered a little of that all important inner self.
            ...Edgerton's characters win a few and lose a few.
            '''The Street of Dreams. I guess we've all been there. Historian Bonaro Overstreet in an essay "Little Story, What Now?" explores the possibilities for the survival of the short story, a nineteenth century infant. She decides that, despite its youth, the short story will survive well into the twenty-first century because of its resilience, its ability to distill the experience of its time, whether inside or outside its characters and to give that experience back to readers so they see themselves more clearly. Edgerton achieves that potential in his mixture of stories, a rare concoction; clearly a meal which lives up to its name.—"Writers at Work" is heard on KTXK Stereo 91.5 FM, the Broadcast voice of Texarkana College, Mondays at 6:00 PM; Wednesdays at 12:25 PM, and Fridays at 8:00 AM.

                                                          *                                                          

Similar subjects and skills (reference to preceding review of Katherine L. Hester's book, "Eggs for Young America") mark the work of Leslie H. Edgerton, who peoples the tales of Monday's Meal with alcoholics, inmates, and an abandoned family that survives on mule stew. The Freeport native, who lives today in Fort Wayne, Indiana rates extra credit for his hook 'em openings ("He was so mean that wherever he was standing became the bad part of town") and punch finales ("Color my ass gone").—Anne Dingus. Texas Monthly, 22 October, 1997.

                                                        *                                                          

There's no question that Leslie Edgerton loves to write... he does it so well! Edgerton deals with people often called 'losers' in a wonderfully poignant way and his affection for his characters gives strength to this collection of stories, one of which has received the Pushcart nomination. Join our support of this fine writer which Arts Indiana Magazine calls "one of Indiana's best writers."—Border's Bookstore Newsletter, September 27, 1997.


From GOODREADS:

Paul Brazill gave 5 of 5 stars to:
Monday's Meal by Leslie Edgerton
Monday's Meal: Stories
by Leslie Edgerton
read in June, 2011
           

LES EDGERTON

Who makes the best beer in the world? Maybe the Czech or Belgians. Definitely not the Danes. Or the Americans.

But when it comes to short stories, well, the Americans rule the roost, they really do. Flannery O’ Connor, Raymond Carver, Stephen King, Dorothy Parker, Charles Bukowski, Richard Ford, Kyle Minor. Loads and loads more.

And you can add Les Edgerton to that list.

Monday’s Meal by Leslie H Edgerton was published in 1997 and contains twenty-one tales of dirt realism. Sharp slices of American life. They’re set in New Orleans and Texas. Sometimes in bars or behind bars. They’re about café owners, hairdressers, nightclub musicians, prisoners, ex-cons, drifters and drinkers.

Monday’s Meal opens and closes ‘Blue Skies’ and ‘Monday’s Meal, tales of strained relationships.’ But the real meat is sandwiched between them. And Monday's Meal is particularly meaty.

Some favourites: ‘The Mockingbird Café’ is the story of a man in a low-rent bar trying to mind his own business; ‘Hard Times’ is bleak and scary and brilliantly written; ‘The Last Fan’ is a tragic look at a shattered marriage; ‘My Idea Of A Nice Thing’ is a touching and sad story of an alcoholic’s crumbling life;’Telemarketing,’ is the story of a young couple just trying to get by; ‘I Shoulda Seen a Credit Arranger,’ is a Runyonesque crime story.

And there’s plenty more to enjoy in Monday’s Meal. Edgerton has a strong and sure grasp of the lives of people who are standing on the edge of a precipice.

And Les Edgerton will soon have a new short story collection published by the hip new kids on the block, Snubnose Press, which can’t be bad!

Paul Brazill, Author,  A Case Of NoirGuns Of Brixton, Too Many Crooks, The Last Laugh, and Kill Me Quick!

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Thanks for reading this. Hope you enjoy the read as much as I enjoyed writing these stories!

Blue skies,
Les



Monday, June 12, 2017

My latest book, LAGNIAPPE, is out!

Hi folks,

I’m pleased to announce the release of my new collection of stories, Lagniappe.


Click here




Twenty years after the publication of his first short story collection, Monday’s Meal, Les Edgerton delivers the goods once again in this collection of harrowing tales of outlaws, ex-cons, frightened men and women, rap-partners throwing back tall boys and taller tales, children forced to become killers, stabbings and shootings, bad asses and sad asses…a wide-ranging collection of distinct and memorable characters who will exhibit a kind of wisdom not obtainable from the halls of academia. This is not a gathering of people contemplating their navels but real people facing the consequences of their actions…and it ain’t often pretty.

Praise for Les Edgerton…

“Les Edgerton has swiftly become my favorite crime writer. Original voice, uncompromising attitude and a pure hardboiled style leap him to the front ranks of my reading list. He will become legendary.” —Joe R. Lansdale, author of Paradise Sky, The Bottoms, Edge of Dark Water, The Thicket, and the Hap and Leonard series, the books behind the TV series of the same name, and many others.

“Reading Les Edgerton’s stories is like listening to those old World War II broadcasts from the London blitz, with the reporter crouching under a restaurant table, microphone in hand, while the bombs drop on the city and the ceiling caves in. Edgerton reports on the world and the news is not good. There’s a kind of wacky wisdom in these bulletins from the underside of life; the stories are full of people you hope never move in next door, for whom ordinary life is an impossible dream. This is good fiction; Edgerton writes lean and nasty prose.” —Dr. Francois Camoin, Director, Graduate School of English, University of Utah and author of Benbow and Paradise, Like Love, But Not Exactly, Deadly Virtues, The End of the World Is Los Angeles and Why Men Are Afraid of Women.

“Les Edgerton is the new High King of Noir.” —Ken Bruen, author of The Emerald Lie, The Guards, Pimp, and many others.
For MONDAY’S MEAL
The sad wives, passive or violent husbands, parolees, alcoholics and other failures in Leslie H. Edgerton's short-story collection are pretty miserable people. And yet misery does have its uses. Raymond Carver elevated the mournful complaints of the disenfranchised in his work, and Edgerton makes an admirable attempt to do the same. He brings to this task an unerring ear for dialogue and a sure-handed sense of place (particularly New Orleans, where many of the stories are set). Edgerton has affection for even his most despicable characters—"boring" Robert, who pours scalding water over his sleeping wife in "The Last Fan"; Jake, the musician responsible for his own daughter's death in "The Jazz Player"; and Tommy in 'I Shoulda Seen a Credit Arranger," whose plan to get hold of some money involves severing the arm of a rich socialite—but he never takes the reader past the brink of horrible fascination into a deeper understanding. In the best story, "My Idea of a Nice Thing," a woman named Raye tells us why she drinks: "My job. I'm a hairdresser. See, you take on all of these other people's personalities and troubles and things, 10 or 12 of 'em a day, and when the end of the day comes, you don't know who you are anymore. It takes three drinks just to sort yourself out again." Here Edgerton grants both the reader and Raye the grace of irony, and without his authorial intrusion, we find ourselves caring about her predicament.—Denise Gess. The New York Times Book Review, November 16, 1997

Hope you enjoy the read! If you do, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. That’s probably the best thing a reader can do for a writer they like. I’d really appreciate your support!
Blue skies,

Les

Sunday, September 15, 2013

BOUCHERCON PRIMER



Hi folks,
The annual Bouchercon writer’s conference is just around the corner! Because of that, it occurred to me that there may be some writers who will be going to their first writer’s conference and it is my sincere hope that the following tips and lore and learned advice might be of value to those people, to show them how to maximize their experience and get the biggest bang for their buck. (This is a rerun, but has some new material added.)

WRITER’S CONFERENCES--YAY!



Many billions of years ago, when mankind (men, who were kindhearted and a couple of women) first began to write, there were very few places to learn the craft. This was during the periods we know today as the Palaeolithic Age, the Mesolithic Age, the Neolithic Age, the first Roosevelt administration, Obama’s last six terms, and the Age of Aquarius.

There were only a couple of women writers because they had to go to work to support their writer-husbands. There was virtually no money in those days for cave-drawing-writers. Certainly no medical plans!

Mostly, there didn’t exist places to learn how to write… because we didn’t have words in those days. (Or four-star hotels to host conventions) Writing was a form where we used pictures, carved on cave walls. We had words, but just a few. Maybe a dozen. Words like “ugh” and “booty” and “dinosaur” and “self-aggrandizement.” And these few words only existed in oral form. There was no actual “writing” as we know it today, because we didn’t even know such things that we consider basic today, like dangling participles and adverbs. We didn’t even have dictionaries!

Things were tough then for writers. Not only didn’t we have dictionaries, we had to walk to school ten miles each way… through six-foot snow drifts! Uphill, both ways...



No, wait. That was something else. That was my childhood.

The point is, we’ve come a long way, baby!

Today, we have words and a modern phenomenon we call “sentences.” We have dictionaries and even thesauruses (or is that thesauri?). We have COMPUTERS! We have all these things and we even have schools and other avenues to learn our craft. By schools, I mean MFA schools and institutions of higher learning based in the Carribbean. Where, when I went, you had to walk ten miles each way… through six-foot high snowdrifts!

Just imagine Mark Twain with a computer... and that PCism stuff...

Some things never change. (Some do...)

Today, as we all know, there are secrets to becoming a bestselling author. And, it’s become ridiculously easy to acquire these secrets, when, once learned, one can quit that bullshit day job in the RV factory and just travel around to bookstores and sign mounds and mounds of our novels and eat at Elaine’s where we can wave across the room to Woody Allen who is a GENIUS. (Like us.)

We have craft books and better: we have BLOGS which are electronic places we can access easily and learn from incredibly good-looking, incredibly smart, writers such as MYSELF, all of those secrets.

Typical "Craft" book. This is one everyone should own at least several copies of in case someone steals copies... It happens...


We also have events these days called WRITER’S CONFERENCES. These are the best places to learn those secrets that lead to bestsellerdom. Why? Well, because the bestselling authors themselves ARE THERE IN PERSON and guess what? They are ALL DRUNK and HANGING OUT IN THE BAR. Where, all you have to do is buy them a Jack and water and they will share these vital secrets with you! They are all more than happy to do so. They are happy to do anything if you only buy them a JACK AND WATER including random sex acts usually available only in Juarez, Mexico! Unless, of course, you want to glom onto the secrets of a romance writer. Then, you need to buy them a drink which has an umbrella in it. But, if your ambition is to write gritty, crime and noir novels, then you need to stick to those manly guys drinking JACK AND WATER. And, romance writers aren’t in the bar anyway. They’re all up in their hotel rooms with other romance writers DOING VITAL RESEARCH in their vibrating hotel beds. (Nobody knows where the sci-fi writers are. Best guesses suggest either men’s bathrooms or hanging with the hotel janitor.)


The bar is where you'll find famous authors... like Paul D. Brazill!

or...


These guys...



What do you suppose Og, back there in his cave, chiseling out his romance novel of his tryst with Moggy on the cave wall would have given to be able to attend a writer’s conference? A LOT, that’s how much! If only for the vibrating hotel beds. Also, to get away from his wife Zelda, who has just found out about Moggy…

And for the umbrella drinks.

For those of you who have yet to attend a writing conference and are frothing at the mouth to get to one, I’m going to let you in on how they work so that you can maximize your time while there and get a whole bunch of writing secrets that will… you guessed it… catapult you into the ranks of BESTSELLERDOM! This is all inside stuff, so pay attention. Plus, it’s guaranteed to get you on the list and be interviewed by Grit Magazine and the NY Times! Your reviews will consist of original, truly descriptive words like “riveting” and “page-turner” and “brilliant” and “short.” (Well, the last only if you’re Tom Cruise and have just penned an autobiography.)

First of all, you should probably attend one of the panels. One is plenty. They’re all pretty much the same and while the organizers seem to put a lot of emphasis on their websites and in their glossy brochures on the panels they’re offering from BRAND-NAME AUTHORS (a clever synonym for BESTSELLING AUTHORS), like they say about Paree: “When you’ve been with one hooker, you’ve been with them all.” No, wait! That’s something else. I meant to say: “When you’ve been to Paree it’s hard to go back to the farm and concentrate on fertilizing the soybeans.” NO! That’s not it, either! Dang it. I forget what the saying is, but the gist of this is that one panel is all you need to attend. Trust me on this.

What will the panel be about? It will be some guys and gals sitting at a table in front (get there early and grab a seat up front as there will always be at least one guy who is considered a SERIOUS WRITER who talks really softly and forgets he or she has a microphone so you’ll want to be close enough to hear him/her when they begin to impart their secrets. It will be the best secret of all, but the bad news is that you’ll only be able to make out about every third word as the rest will be drowned out by thunderous applause whenever his mouth opens or he tugs at a nose hair.

No matter what the topic has been labeled, it will always end up being about ADVERBS and why REALLY SMART WRITERS never use them. Well, hardly ever… Scarcely ever, anyway. Occasionally, at best.

This will be the only thing you’ll learn from the panel.

Even if the publicized title of the panel is:
DISTINGUISHED PULITZER PRIZE WINNERS TALK ABOUT HOW CREEPING EXISTENTIALISM AND THE NATIONAL GROSS PRODUCT FIGURES OF 1997 ARE IMPACTING THE LITERARY TABLEAU AS EVIDENCED BY THE SCHOLARLY JOTTINGS OF “FIFTY SHADES OF CRAP” AND OTHER POST-MODERN CLASSICS… WITH LOTS OF QUOTES FROM HAROLD BLOOM
(Hint: If you don’t know who Harold Bloom is, you’re in the wrong room. This is why you’re the only one here, boobie.)

…even if the publicized title is the above, that part will only take about 43 seconds and the rest of the panel will be devoted to… you guessed it! ADVERBS. Also, some stuff on what we laughingly call “Writers’ Bumper Stickers of Wisdom.” You’ve probably seen some of these around town on Government Motors (GM) trucks driven by short, redneck guys who look a lot like TOM CRUISE but with fewer front teeth (those so-called “smile” teeth). These stickers will be composed of pithy, but true, nuggets of writerly wisdom like: “Show, Don’t Tell.” This means (in literary language) if you find yourself pregnant by a BRAND NAME AUTHOR, don’t tell on him, or you can kiss goodbye his highly-desired blurb on your tome that is guaranteed to sell a bazillion copies of your opus to people who only buy because Frephen Fing (Not his real name—I’m protecting his true identity, out of respect.) or Ames Atterson has said it was a “riveting, page-turning, brilliant read… and it’s short.” You’ll be showing, soon enough, and that’s when you can put on the full-court press for his blurb.

It’s always a sound idea to visit the bar before attending the panel and, if the organizers of the event were smart enough to hold it in a civilized city like NEW ORLEANS where they have GO-CUPS, take one with you to the panel. If, unluckily it’s in a place like ALBANY, go early to the bar and drink two more than you normally would. Ideally, you’ll drink enough that you’ll pass out for the entire length of the panel, but even if not, you’ll be able to get through it by realizing:

YOU’RE IN FREAKIN’ ALBANY!


Albany in the summer during a heat wave...

How the hell did that happen? Wallowing in the misery that comes with knowing you’re spending perfectly good money to spend a rainy, sleety, windy weekend in FRIGGIN’ ALBANY, the panel won’t suck as much as might have in a really cool place such as… NEW ORLEANS! Where you probably won’t bother with panels at all but do the smart thing and just hang out in the bar the entire time.

Okay. You got through the panel and can breathe a sigh of relief that that’s over and you can tell your wife when you return home that you learned “a ton of stuff at this panel I went to.”

You might be asking yourself why do obscenely-rich, incredibly handsome, extremely well-hung BRAND NAME AUTHORS (such as myself) deign to even sit on these panels and talk about ADVERBS.

Good question! It shows… mostly, it shows you aren’t drunk enough yet if you’re thinking this logically…

The answer is that although we’re all OBSCENELY-RICH BEYOND ANYONE’S WILDEST DREAMS, it isn’t through the royalties on our BESTSELLING BOOKS. The truth is, we don’t make squat on those. Are you kidding? It all looks great to the outsider, but the truth is, as they say, stranger than fiction. Here’s the truth about royalties.

Let’s say the book sold a million copies. That’s a lot, right? Well, the joke’s on you if you think the author himself made very much.

First of all, there are other hands in this pie. (If you think these metaphors and similes or whatever they are are crap, don’t forget I’m a BESTSELLING AUTHOR and can do this all day long and you can’t do a thing about it so just shut up and lie down by your dish.)

Thank you...

To begin with, the publisher keeps 85% of all the money. Yep. Thas’ right. I didn’t stutter. The writer gets to keep 15%. Only he doesn’t.

His agent takes 15% off the top. This is to pay him or her back for taking your phone call when you inform him you just sold your book to an editor you just met at the BAR IN ALBANY. He’ll also do some other valuable work on your behalf when he looks over the contract which basically sells you into servitude for the rest of your natural life, plus ten years and says, “Yep. Looks good. Sign on that line on the last page where your full name is printed out above.”

Money well spent!

Then, the publicist takes 20%. What, you say? My publicist? What if I don’t want no friggin’ publicist? Well, go ahead and don’t have one, but how do you suppose your book sold a million copies without one? The answer is, there are only 16 people in the world who have Oprah’s private phone number and can get you booked onto her show which is the only way you CAN SELL A MILLION FRICKIN’ COPIES OF YOUR STUPID BOOK, btw. And, of those 16 people, 15 ½ are publicists. (The other one is TOM CRUISE, which is why he gets a half.) So, you need a publicist. Wake up and smell the pillow, moron! (Smells like drool, doesn’t it?)

Then, your agent has presented you with a great idea. To get the bestseller deal going, he suggests you take a portion of your royalties (say, 65%) and sneak into various bookstores in various disguises… and buy up copies of your own book!

It’s a brilliant idea and you glom onto it instantly! Why? Well, the guy giving you this advice is obviously a GENIUS—after all, he just scammed 15% of your money just by answering the phone, so he’s already shown you he’s no dummy.

All over your geographical area, stores are calling into Barnes and Noble regional centers (Barnes and Noble because they’re the only bookstore left) to report that sales of your opus are “flying off the shelves!” (Bookstore owners use cliches like this all the time because they mostly read bestsellers and that’s where all the clichés live.) Barnes and Noble speaks regularly to the NY Times and Oprah (they meet at Elaine’s at the table just behind WOODY ALLEN’S), and when presented with the news that your opus is flying off the shelves (this is just a highly original way of saying they’re selling a lot and the cashiers are calling in sick with an outbreak of carpal tunnel syndrome from punching cash register keys), they say to themselves, “Hey! This is a bestseller! Let’s get it on the list! Let’s book this guy on the show.” (The NY Times says the bestseller thing and Oprah says the show thing. After which, the waiter brings them all a round of mimosas and they toast each other for their acumen. The B and N person is the last one to leave and she gets the bill. Which is added to your expenses…)

There are other folks who get a piece of your pie. The publisher will want a photograph of you for the back cover, which you’ll pay for. Your wife’s Kodak moment taken at Disneyland when you rode the Small Cups Ride won’t work. They’ll laugh hysterically when you try to foist that one off on them. No, they’ll have to send out a New York photographer, because everyone knows New York photographers are the only people who know which end to look through and where the little button is to click on a camera.

Except, it’s not that simple. (You saw this coming, didn’t you…) It never is. It turns out that the New York photographer is TOO GOOD! Your photograph looks… EXACTLY LIKE YOU! That will never do. This is against tradition. The author’s photograph should be of him (or her, if the author is a woman), but it has to be of him or her from thirty years ago and nearly unrecognizeable. That’s why when you went to the panel, you couldn’t recognize any of the BRAND NAME PANELISTS. None of them look like their photos. This is why. The photos were all taken at a time when they were younger and dumber and full of cu-- (sorry, I forgot this was a family venue).

Who wants to see an old geezer on a book jacket? NO ONE. That’s why they’re always photos taken just when the author was mustering out of the service just after WWII, still wearing his bomber jacket and looking jaunty (writer’s word that means… I don’t know what it means. It means jaunty. Some kind of peppy look, I think. With a crinkly smile.) (See People Magazine covers…)

Like this. Typical People Mag cover... Note the crinkly smile...


This means that the publisher will then request one of your wife’s Kodak moments, taken just before you were married that June day in 1954 and still had all of your teeth. They’ll want the one taken just before you were married, where you still knew how to smile. WITH ALL OF YOUR TEETH.

You’ll learn that another massive charge has been marked against your account. They had to Photoshop the picture (they’ll charge you for the price of the Photoshop program itself, btw. You didn’t think those paid for themselves, did you!). You’ll also note in the itemized charges a fee for the guy who manipulated the Photoshop program to make it look “current.” Which means making the Tiny Cups Ride disappear and changing the sepia tones to color. This is done by a guy in the basement (who writes sci-fi novels).

You’ll be amazed at the skill this guy has brought to the table! Instead of that old photo you remembered, where you threw up seconds after it was shot and where to your trained eye you can already detect the glassiness in your stare—now you’re looking at a shot of your old, long-gone self…  DIGGING YOUR TOES INTO THE SAND, STARING OUT TO SEA WITH A SOULFUL, DEEP EXPRESSION. Suitable for a People Magazine cover of… TOM CRUISE. In fact, it looks like almost all photos of TOM CRUISE IN PEOPLE MAGAZINE, except the guy in the picture (you) isn’t short. That’s because it’s shot from ground level, the so-called “power shot.”

Anyway, I won’t bore you (further) with how your royalties all disappear, but will make a long story short (I know, I know… it’s too late!), by saying the reason BESTSELLING AUTHORS and BRAND NAMES do these conventions and sit on panels discussing ADVERBS and why you shouldn’t use them even if they do, is because it’s the only way they can make any money. And, the whole reason they’re there (besides the fabulous sums the organizers throw at them), is because there’s always A BAR on the premises.

Which is where they’ll be when they’re not on their panels.




 Tip: If you see this woman at the bar and she has a monkey with her, try to avoid her and the monkey or you may end up like the person just above her... Trust me on this...

This is the end of our discussion today on WRITER’S CONVENTIONS. Why? Because all this talk about bars has made me thirsty and I crave me a JACK AND WATER.

Or maybe a Bud...




We’ll pick this up again (when I feel like it), and talk some about writer’s conventions GROUPIES and how to successfully stalk a BRAND NAME AUTHOR.
Until then… happy writing!

A few of my groupies, in line to get signed books...


Before I leave you, let me leave you with one valuable piece of advice. If you find yourself at a writer’s convention, and you spot BRAND NAME LEE CHILD, under no circumstance should you approach him and say the name, TOM CRUISE. He’s a big guy and trained in some of the more popular martial arts. Just sayin’…

Blue skies,
Les

DISCLAIMER: I was having some fun with Albany, but the truth is it's really a great place!

This message was brought to you by the publisher of THE RAPIST. Please buy a bunch of copies so that Les can join the ranks of the BRAND NAME AUTHORS! Remember: Christmas is just around the corner and what better gift could Granny ever wake up to than a copy of THE RAPIST in her stocking? (The stocking on the mantelpiece, not the one she’s wearing…) Just imagine the delight you'll see in her cataracts!

See ya at B-Con! Look for me in the bar…