Lilith Saintcrow

First of all, a couple messages: Thanks to Tami H. for the virtual chocolate–it made my day. And AJ: your WordPress.com username is totally separate from the username on your own hosted WP blog. Just go sign up for that (as Kerry notes, you don’t have to use the blog at all, I use mine as a placeholder, though I should probably find some way to mirror it…is there a plugin to crosspost to a WP-hosted blog?) ANYWAY, that will give you an API key you can use for Akismet and will make all sorts of stuff totally easier.

*cracks knuckles* We got your tech support right here, babe.

SO. Evil Ways is the second Chastain & Morris investigation, written by Justin Gustainis. Justin approached me for a quote for Black Magic Woman, the first Quincey Morris book, and I loved it. (I have also grown to adore Justin, but that’s beside the point.) I also loved Evil Ways. So, on to the review!

Evil Ways opens in Iraq, during the looting of a museum in Baghdad. A book is stolen, and right away the reader begins to suspect something is Very Very Wrong. The book contains a ritual, and a mad millionaire wants to use it to grant himself near-immortality and a cure to whatever Bad Disease he has. (My vote is cancer, but it’s not explicitly stated. Doesn’t matter, either.) The Mad Millionaire, Walter Grobius, has hired a sorcerer to help him–and the sorcerer knows his stuff.

Enter our good guys, Quincey Morris (yes, a descendant of one of Dracula’s hunters) and his pal Libby Chastain, a “white” witch.

This is one of the things I love about Justin’s work. The magic has rules, and Justin has done his research. He peppers the work with occult in-jokes–but never so many as to detract from the story. And I can tell he’s boned up (pardon the term) on Western occult theories and techniques. Not only that, but he’s thought long and hard about why the magic works the way it does in his world, and he sticks to it. I’ve read enough fantasy and urban fantasy by now to appreciate an author whose magical rules don’t change to service the plot.

There’s plenty more to appreciate about this book. For one thing, the heroes don’t know who they’re fighting for most of the book, and each group of heroes (Quincey and Libby, and Fenton and O’Connell the FBI agents, then Hannah Widmark, and the Sisterhood of white witches) has their own motivations as well as their own pieces of the puzzle. The interlocking pieces of the plot all come together in a cinematic showdown during a black-magic sabbat that was alternately hilarious and horrifying for all the right reasons. Plus, the villains have believable motivations as well–Pardee the sorcerer and Grobius the millionaire are perfectly prepared to do away with each other if and when they can, and both want this ritual done for different reasons. The villains aren’t cardboard, and I like that.

Gustainis is still a “young” writer, and there are some flaws in the book. One is a little too much exposition “tell” instead of characterization “show” at some points; especially when the academic tone rubs through. Don’t get me wrong–the academic tone works wonders when he’s starting out a chapter to set a scene. But when it comes to (in particular) Libby Chastain saying something prim instead of cursing and Quincey noticing it and realizing they’re in deep shit, the academic tone is a distraction. This is something practice and growth will solve, and Gustainis’s craft has noticeably improved between the first and second Morris & Chastain books. (He was no slouch to begin with, either.)

The ending also felt a bit abrupt, but that could have been because I was enjoying the book so much and didn’t want it to be over. There’s also a little bit of over-the-top when it comes to the bad guys–I mean, Pardee kills kittens, for Chrissake–but it works because that’s the way the world set up and it’s internally consistent, something many books that feature magic just aren’t. (Can you tell that’s a pet peeve over here at Casa Saintcrow?)

These are tiny little quibbles when compared to deft pacing, overall solid characterization (my favorite was Hannah Widmark[1], who as a secondary character stole the show and came close to taking over the whole damn book) and a number of fun pop-culture references and nods. I think I already mentioned Harry Dresden’s favorite bar and bartender showing up in this book, as well as references to a certain reporter and an awesome cameo by a guy named Frank.

These references may end up dating the book–for example, if you don’t have Netflix or don’t remember the original series, Frank is not going to be any big deal to you. HOWEVER (and this is a big however) these cameos are very adroitly handled and stand up as tertiary characterizations on their own merit, adding breadth and depth to the world Gustainis has created.

I really can’t wait for the next book in this series, and I enjoyed this one very much. Like I’ve said before, there are very few books that I am pulled into and stop “looking under the hood” of anymore, and I can rely on Justin to give me a rollicking good time without jolting me out of the story with bad craft. All in all, a thumb’s-up read, and I recommend Evil Ways for anyone who likes their occult fiction and urban fantasy smart, fun, fast, and occasionally brutal.

[1] And Hannah is so totally hot. She’s a girl after my own heart, especially her introductory scene, where she does a Lady Vengeance ALL OVER a nasty vampire. Here’s hoping Justin will give Hannah her own series…hint, hint…

Welcome to the regular Friday writing post. Less than twenty minutes ago I braved the crazed hordes of holiday shoppers in order to buy giftwrap, gumdrops, and a last-minute gift (dude, not my FAULT, I am prepared until a kid springs a last-minute thang on me), so if I twitch a little and froth at the mouth, please just glance away until I compose myself.

On the other hand, I am now munching on cream-cheese toast made with the bread I baked yesterday. Now that I’m not hungry, my mood has improved immensely. Go figure.

SO. Yesterday I asked for ideas for this Friday post, and you responded in droves. Two questions kind of stood out–one about depth, and the other about reviews.

Reader (and fellow writer) Jessica Tudor sent me this question:

I’d be interested on your take on making a story deeper. I’ve finally wrangled the craft beast to the point I am finishing novels (two in 2008, as soon as I write that blasted climax… *wink*) consistently, and the first one I subbed got positive feedback. But while I have now shown myself I can write an entertaining and coherent book, I am of course not satisfied. If I’m going to play the publishing game, I want to take it to the next level. I want depth, breadth, meaning. Got anything for me?

Short answer: One is never finished with this question.

Long answer: Depth, breadth, and meaning are largely subjective. That being said, there are a couple ways to get what I think you’re after.

First, you’ve finished novels. CONGRATULATIONS. This is a huge milestone. Do not underestimate how huge a thing this is.

Now for the bad news. It is now that the real work begins.

The first thing I do when I finish a book or a piece is close it and walk away. Celebrate a little. For short stories I can take a day or so off, novels get a week to three weeks (generally) of just sitting while I work on something else, drool into the carpet, catch up on reading–anything to calm down the creative engine and let the piece “cool off”. Finishing a novel feels to me very much like there is a huge flywheel inside my head that has now come unmoored and is spinning wildly, attached to nothing. It has to slow down and stop making that ratcheting sound before I can relax. And by that point I’m sick of the piece, whatever it is. It has to go away for a while.

The hard part begins when you go back and start exercising the critical-reading muscles instead of the just-plain-vomit-it-out muscles. It requires a different sort of discipline. I usually go over every piece at least twice before the beta reader sees it, and it gets a thorough pick from the beta before it goes to an editor. This takes time and hard work. For one thing, it’s ridiculously hard to view your own words with the necessary distance. (Part of the cooling-off period is to hopefully get some of that distance.) For another, you can sometimes see the events so clearly in your head that you don’t get critical bits of it on paper–you may need another set of eyes for that. (This is why I feel my beta is INVALUABLE.)

It may not seem like I’m answering your question, but I am. Just in a roundabout way, leading up to this: if you build it, Grasshopper, the themes will come.

Most of the time I am oblivious to any Deep Themes in my own stuff. It takes the beta or the editor saying, “Huh, I see you’re really thinking about _______.”

And I say, “Yeah, I was, but I didn’t think it bled into the book!” And then they laugh at my bafflement.

Any piece of work where you’re being honest will have its own depth. Finding the way to bring that out is tricky. You can fall in love with your own soapbox, or let it get in the way of tellin’ a whoppin’ good story. It’s a variant of bullshitting, and it’s a kiss of death.

There are things that can help you, though. One of them is being mean to your characters. Do not shy away from their pain, from hurting them. If there is no risk, there is no reward for them OR for the Reader. Good stories are risky–like Samwise says in The Two Towers movie. Being too afraid to put your characters through the wringer, to risk them and yourself and your Reader…well, this line of work ain’t for the fainthearted.

Another thing that can help you is reading. I am always amazed at “writers” who claim not to read. I agree with Stephen King (his On Writing is one of the two writing books I will ever recommend, period) that reading a lot is how you get taught subtle and numerous things about voice, pacing, why a book works, etc.

A funny thing happens when you read a lot as a writer. You start looking “under the hood”, as the Selkie says, to see what makes a story go. You start noticing things–thinking I would’ve solved that problem differently or O I SEE WHAT U DID THAR! This whole dynamic has made me a much pickier reader, and I kind of miss that uncritical period where I swallowed books whole, bad good or indifferent. The glut started to teach me a lot about writing, and my beta and editors commented that my work got better.

Deeper. Because I had a wider grasp of the mechanics and was no longer wrestling with the clutch and the brake; I was starting to focus on other parts of driving.

Another thing wide reading will do is teach you What You Like. Take a look at books you do like, books that you don’t feel the need to look under the hood of while you’re reading. See if you can look at them like an editor would. Chances are you’ll find Themes, and chances are those Themes are things you resonate with. Those Themes will start popping up more and more in your own work.

The depth will happen. What I hear from your question is that you’re in one of those uncomfortable periods (a plateau, as it were) right before your writing takes a big leap forward. This is part of the creative process, and one of the most frustrating parts. The leap will happen if you keep working. Trust in that. On the other hand, after the leap is another plateau…and another leap…and another–you get the idea. This sort of cycle never ends.

That’s probably not the most useful answer in the world, but it’s all I can give. For now.

The second question is about “voice” in reviews, and comes from a fellow LJer and writer, who has requested to remain anonymous. Parts of the in-depth question below are redacted, for obvious reasons. We were talking about something else, and “voice” in reviews came up.

The short answer I gave to this person’s question ran thus: Voice is crucial in any form of writing, I can’t see why reviews would be any different. No review is completely objective, of course; but that elusive quality of voice comes when a writer is being honest (a phrase that means several different things to me, many of which are applicable here). It damn near shines through, and often people will pick the less-bullshit, more-honest voice even if it doesn’t agree with them–in fiction and in reviews.

It’s not just you. The first reviewer’s tastes may have changed, yours might have, they might have started bullshitting, or you guys may just disagree. Or you may have found a voice you like better. It’s not just you, but there are many reasons why you might be going to a new place.

In reply I got this deeper, more precise explanation[1]:

To expand on my question regarding voice in a review, I used to read **Famous Review Blog** religiously. While their reviews didn’t really sway me one way or the other regarding my book buying habits, I did enjoy reading their reviews. They were analytical and thought-provoking, and proviced a nice critical analysis of the book. Not nearly as entertaining as the **other Famous Review Blog**, but expansive and interesting.

It’s probably just me, but over the past couple of months, I felt the voice of the reviews, especially by *_______* and *______*, devolved. They seemed less of a review and more of an exercise in proving how sophisticated and highly educated they are. Honestly, the reviews became dull and tiresome because of it. Thing is, I knew these women were smart, educated and could provide great insight not only into individual books but into the publishing industry from the reader’s perspective. I was there to read interesting, well thought out reviews, not be bludgeoned with some kind of weird one-upmanship regarding IQ scores thinly veiled by a book review. The voice changed–at least for me.

*snip*

I’d never mention this in a public post as **Famous Review Blog** is well known and well liked and has a rabid fan base that sometimes works with the pack mentality when defending their favorite review site from those they perceive as even the mildest threat or detractor. I don’t want the hassle or the enemies and actually hope to use **Famous Review Blog**’s reviews some day for the exposure.

Anywho, the above is the thought process that motivated my question. I’d be VERY interested in your take on the power of “voice” in a review.

Hmmm. That’s a pickle.

To get a little bit more specific…it must be some kind of internet law that any collaborative site, once it passes a certain critical threshold of popularity, will become (to varying degrees) the home of that sort of rabid us-against-them fanbase. Review sites…well, reviews are opinions, and one must already believe one’s opinions are worthwhile in order to go to the trouble of spending the time and care needed to run a review site. That belief can become pathological. And in any creative endeavor (and reviews, I think, definitely count) there is the danger of believing one’s own publicity. That gets sticky.

It seems like this is less a question of voice and more a question of bullshit. The one-upmanship you’ve noticed isn’t “voice”. It’s either covering up weird insecurity or it’s just plain nastiness, and either is damaging to any case a reviewer’s building. Readers hate to be belittled, to have their intelligence insulted, or to be bullshitted. (Bullshat? What is the proper past tense of “to bullshit” in that sentence?) The aroma of BS will drive away Readers faster than anything else. And a review site with that sort of dynamic going on runs a very real risk of becoming simply a mutual congratulation society with some weird and unhealthy behaviors. Either said site will change, become less popular, or it will implode. Or it may get more popular than ever with people who think reviews are all about tearing people down and not about giving an honest opinion and sparking discussion.

This is a thorny question for me, for obvious reasons. I have for a long time pursued a policy of not responding to reviews, either positive or negative.[2] The problem with responding runs thus: even if you only respond to the positive ones, that astronomically ups the chance of you someday responding personally to a negative one. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Doing that is one of the surest, shortest ways to an Internet pileup that might be fun to watch but is so, so not fun to be a part of. (Example: the Anne Rice kerfluffle on Amazon a while ago.) Who needs that? Just avoid the whole thing.

I do read reviews of my work, negative and positive. (I don’t see how any writer can avoid doing that, and feedback is good.) I may even (shhh!) moan privately to my beta or my close trusted friend about one or two of the negative ones. But publicly responding, even to positive ones? Hell no. That’s not my job and it will only create stomach trouble for me. *puts tongue in cheek* When all is said and done, really, it’s just the Internet. Heh.

This has spread to me not reading much in the way of reviews unless I really, really trust and enjoy the site. And truly my TBR pile is so huge and reviews will only tempt me to add to it. And I’ll be crushed under a pile of books. While that may be one of my Top Ten Ways To Die, I can’t afford to do it right now. I have deadlines.

Ergo, I am perhaps not the best person to ask about reviews, really. So, dear Readers…does voice in reviews matter? If so, how and why? And other assorted comments are welcome, too. (As long as we play nice.)

What do you think?

[1] Which I was given permission to post, redacted to protect identities etc. Just so that’s clear.
[2] If I am ever tempted to respond, I have to take 24 hours and ask someone whose opinion I trust. Usually it only takes me about twenty minutes to discover that no, I really don’t want to respond. Thus I am saved the trouble.

Psst! Wanna read a free serial novel?

Readers of the Dante Valentine series will remember their favorite Nichtvren duo, Selene and Nikolai. Plenty of you wrote in wanting to know more about them. Well, back when I was writing for AnotherChapter.com, I did write a book about the deadly duo, illustrated by the awesome Andrzej Karwacki.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, Orbit and I are offering the book for free in serial form. Chapters will be posted every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And did I mention it’s free?

Selene

Life isn’t easy for a sexwitch. Even your own body betrays you. It’s bad enough that Selene is part slave to Nikolai, the Prime Power of Saint City, but she’s got her brother Danny and she’s got her job at the college. In the postwar wreckage of an uncertain world, it’s pretty much all she’s ever allowed herself to want.

Enjoy! Comments on the chapters are turned off for obvious reasons, but there’s always the Saint City Street Fair, which has a forum just for Selene.

Enjoy!

Due to popular demand (Megan F., this one’s for you!), the UnSullen One put together an “I (Heart) Japhrimel” graphic for T-shirts.

They’re available in:

* V-Neck
* V-Neck Plus
* Scoop Neck
* Long-Sleeve T
* Long-Sleeve T (Women’s)

And for those of you who enjoy a good cuppa, we have both regular and OMG HUGE coffee mugs blazoned with the name of your favorite demon.

Enjoy! And many props to the UnSullen One, who hath created a thing of beauty. You should see what he’s working on next…

The awesome Maggie Stiefvater made an interesting comment on my Spec vs. Organic post last Friday.

But you forgot the funny combination of those two — which is when you sell a two-book deal where only the first “organically written” book is completed. Then you find yourself in the funny position of having to write an organic novel almost to spec.

So I think that even organic writers need to acquire the discipline that romance writers practice all the time.

I’d actually not thought of that, because I rarely write stand-alone books. Most of my organic stuff is in the context of a series, and my to-spec stuff is mostly in series form too. I guess I’m just most-comfortable with the series-novel form–I find short stories very, very difficult; they take a lot of planning. So any organic novel I do is almost certainly meant to go in a series, and I have an idea of how long the series will go and what will happen at each stage.

As for the discipline, I consider it something any professional writer needs. You’re just not going to get better without the discipline to practice and to keep learning (and taking what one can from the critique of one’s editors, betas, readers, and self requires discipline too). Discipline is such a core component of art in general and writing in specific–but we all know how I feel about that. *grin* I won’t bore you with repeating myself.

Something new: I’ve got my serenity back after the weekend. It’s taking me less and less time to bounce back after something like that. It’s funny, but a while ago at the end of a long jag of insomnia, I heard birds singing as the sky began to lighten outside and suddenly this wave of calm broke over me. It was like someone tapping me on the head with a magic wand and saying, “Everything is going to be all right. Relax.”

Since then I’ve been possessed of an amazing sense of serenity about stuff. A few minutes of closed-eyes and deep breathing per day seems to run that serenity engine just fine, and recharge it.

The past weekend strained that serenity, but it’s back now. I don’t know from whence it came, but as long as deep breathing will keep it around, I’m not going to ask too many questions.

Oh, and another cool thing: chili! I finally found out how to make chili! It’s a two-day deal.

Day One: In the morning, put beans in water with a little bit of salt to soak. Around 10PM, turn your crock pot on low. Put the beans in, cover with water, add some seasoning (go easy on the salt), garlic, and a bay leaf–and (secret ingredient) drizzle some unsulphured molasses over ‘em. Go to bed and forget about it.

Day Two: Stir the beans in the morning, don’t worry about how they smell. It’s okay. Brown whatever meat you’re using (I use stew beef, myself) and toss it in with some onions. You can chop up some celery, too. Throw in some tomatoes and a can of tomato paste (I used about five Roma tomatoes for a pot o’chili) and some cumin (half a teaspoon, more to taste) and a little bullion base. (Beef. Chicken just doesn’t work well, I’ve found.) Turn it up to high at about noon and stir occasionally.)

Here’s something I’ve found out about chili: don’t add your cayenne until about a half-hour before serving. That way you can control the spiciness much better, since it will get spicier as it cooks down. Best to add your cumin, garlic, thyme, tarragon, etc., at the beginning of day two and wait on the spice, especially if you have picky eaters who like it bland (like my little, darling Sir Pewksalot.)

Turn it down to low at about three o’clock (make sure the beans are nice and soft) and season to taste. You can serve it at about six–and here’s another thing, grating up some smoked gouda and dumping it on the bowls for your less-picky eaters is a Good Thing.

I serve chili with cornbread and Cheez-Its. (Dude. Cheez-Its on chili is teh awesome.) I used to date a guy who chopped up Oreos and put them in at the last second, a la Martin Riggs. Plus, I usually put the cayenne and garlic powder on the table so everyone can fine-tune their Chili Experience. It’s also good over brown rice with a little butter and just a touch of brown sugar. The possibilities are damn near endless.

And there you go. I can’t believe it took me this long to come up with a workable chili, and it’s kind of time-intensive, but very Worth It.

Today I’m doing a pork tenderloin with some coconut milk and basil. If it turns out well, tomorrow we’ll have another recipe. If it doesn’t…well, at least I’ll have a good story.