Why I love pulp fiction

And here's why I love reading vintage pulp fiction on my lunch break:

"The house had once been imposing. Now it was a shabby house surrounded by a shabby yard in a beggarly section of town. Grimy warehouses and factories had pushed up around it like weeds, leaving a tragic relic, pathetic as a bridal gown in a garbage can.

A board walk led to a sagging porch, where the door gaped open like a dead man's jaws. I rapped on the doorsill and peered into a dim room from which issued the bad breath of decay."

The Kiss-Off, Douglas Heyes, 1951

Another great book found through Friday's Forgotten Books (courtesy of Bill Crider who seems to have read everything). If you aren't checking out the weekly posts, you're really missing out. You'll never be short of what to read again.

summer sale a-coming!

I've been out of town for a whole week. That's five plane trips so far this year, which is unusual for me and I must say I'm over it.
But, back home and back at it. We did a great little interview with Jed Ayres over at the Barnes & Noble site on his great mystery blog Ransom Notes. Jed does the best interviews. Fun, quirky questions. Check it out.

The big news is that Second Wind has graciously agreed to let us run a sale on the Kindle edition of both books for June. From June 1 to June 21 One Too Many Blows To The Head and Borrowed Trouble will both be only .99! Three weeks of ultra cheap ebooks!
And that's after Amazon dropped the price to $4.99 to stay inline with the Nook and iBooks price. It essentially means we are forfeiting all profits for that period but that's okay if we get people to sample the books and tell a friend. Word is a few other Second Wind authors may get in on the fun and people can sample a slew of SW books.

Not that anyone reads this blog but if anyone does and y'all want a free ebook in exchange for a review of said book, let me know. If .99 is just too steep for you (or someone you know) let me know and all we ask in return is that you write up a review and post it where other people can see it. If you like it, that is. If you hate the books, keep it to yourself. Unless you hate them so much you feel the world must know to stay away. That would just be funny.

I've been reading some great books lately too. I need to do a wrap-up of those. Some great old-timey pulps. Read my first Gil Brewer and felt like an idiot I hadn't gotten to him sooner. Just got a few in the mail today including Fast One by Paul Cain, an mysterious and enigmatic pulp writer from the 1930s

and I have the first two Mike Hammer novels in vintage paperbacks so I can get off my ass and read some vintage Spillane.

May already?

So Blogger was down for a while. It was the talk of the web for a day or two. I wouldn't have known of course since I'm so slacker-y about posting.
But now here I am with actual content to post. First, I submitted my story for the upcoming Pulp Ink anthology which is going to be a phenomenal collection. Out later this summer. Really looking forward to reading what the others come up with for that one.
Getting closer to the release of the Grimm Tales anthology as well. Some great stories in that as well. And to round out a summer of anthologies, I've seen the proof copy of D*cked and, dang I'm proud to be in that one as well. My piece plays as more of a trifle but people really ran with the concept on that one (All stories centered around Dick Cheney).

Tony Black has brought Pulp Pusher back from the dead. His excellent e-zine was a real loss when he shuttered it last year but now he's back and he's begun posting archived stories which means my story My First Crime has a home again. So excited because I always liked that one and I love being published by Pulp Pusher.

The next step has been taken in bringing out my first direct-to-ebook thingy, a novella called KNUCKLES. Watch this space for details to come on that one. A summer release, not sure when though.

Jen and I have started on a new collaboration and so far so good. It's a new one, not Ray and Dean again.

And of course I'm still waiting to hear anything on the manuscripts flouting out there in the world. My mantra has become Stay Patient. I am not good at it.

Lastly it looks like the publisher is going to go for my crazy idea to drop the price of the Kindle editions of One Too Many Blows To The Head and Borrowed Trouble to .99 for the month of June or at least most of it. Not sure why I would work to stage a sale that means we forfeit all royalties but I just want people to read the books. Forward thinking of me or shortsighted and dumb? Remains to be seen.

Having a Bookgasm

Luckily I am not the one who came up with that term - bookgasm. It is the name of a book review site, and a trustworthy one at that. Good news is they seem to like both One Too Many Blows To The Head and Borrowed Trouble. Yay for us.
They called One Too Many, "like a post-modern Gold Medal novel. " and said, "Kohl and Beetner have a real knack for this type of storytelling." Of Borrowed Trouble they said, "The book is a fantastic follow-up" 


It's so nice to see reviews start to trickle in, especially good ones.  Do reviews work? Yes they do, according to my scientific study which involved checking the Amazon rankings of both books before and after the Bookgasm article. Before both books were hovering between 1.5 and 1.7 million. Now they both sit in the mid hundred thousands. 
I haven't written squat in a few weeks which was by choice, but I'm gearing up to finish some shorts that are due as well as plotting out the next novel and starting on a new project with Jennifer. Plus I've started looking into what all is involved with putting up a novella on Kindle. I'm sure it's easier than it seems right now. Above all I need to get it edited. I'm sure there is a bunch of stuff I'm not seeing even after going through it multiple times and I want it to be right.
Should be a fun-filled summer.

Back to the real Left Coast

So, not much to report from the rest of my time at Left Coast Crime. Sold a few books, not many but that's fine. Met some great new people and once again was welcomed graciously by some old friends who didn't mind me clinging on to them the whole weekend (Thanks Rebecca!)
Sadly none of my friends won any awards but I was glad to see so many nominated.

My panel on Sunday went well. Nice to hang out with Kelli Stanley again and I was dismayed and angered to hear that she arrived home to discover she'd been robbed. They took all her jewelry and some other stuff. There are some cretinous scum in the world. Hope they get what's coming to them.

My pal Rachel Brady wins the outstanding moderator of the weekend award. Her panel was lively, fast-paced and fun. More moderators should take tips from Rachel, who is a sunny personality anyway.

Back home and back to the grind of trying to find a bookstore that will have me and the books for a signing, or even just to carry them in the store! This has proven much harder than I expected. The kind folks at The Mystery Bookstore spoiled me. I still really hate that no one will even write me back. Give me a "No, thanks" or even a simple "No" but reply at least! Those books I sent cost me money. Ah, the struggles of the indie author.

I started the research phase of putting up and ebook novella. I know nothing about formatting and all that jazz so this will take a while. I do love designing covers though so that will be fun. Must finish the revision on the new novel and then go over the novella again and send it out to some fresh eyes for editing. Have to put the best foot forward don't ya know.

Some books this summer that I'm really excited about. I'm making headway on the old TBR pile to get ready.

Left Not-Quite-The-Coast Crime report #1

Three things I'm already sick of after only one day in Santa Fe for Left Coast Crime:
1. Turquoise
2. Navajo Rugs
3. Discussions about eBooks

I'll ignore how dry it is here and how, as someone who lives on the Left Coast, New Mexico is hardly the coast. But aside from my silly griping Santa Fe is playing a marvelous host to a very well run LCC so far.

As always the big bonus for me is getting to hang with writer friends and this time is no exception. Paling around with Rebecca Cantrell and Deb Ledford. Sharing hugs with Kelli Stanley and looking forward to our panel together. Breakfast with Stephen Jay Schwartz. Bumping in to good guys like Kenneth Wishnia and Mike Befeler who I know only from the confines of conferences is great.

I chose some panels about publishing today to see what people were saying and I have no right to be surprised that people were all a-flutter about ebooks and all that entails. Enough already. They're not coming, they're here. Some people will make a bunch of money off them, most people won't. Books will still exists.
As one agent on a panel put it when asked about the chapter 11 of Borders and the downsizing of B&N being the clarion call that bookselling is dead, "Their demise had nothing to do with publishing or selling books, it had to do with their business model. When GM went under no one said it was the end of the car."
There's more to be said on this but everyone has said it already. I'm sure I'll have something out direct to Kindle this year and I can join in the fun all the cool kids are having.

I signed two books today (wheee!) I bought a few more old pulps. The two I started picking through at dinner didn't catch me right away but they still have great covers and they were cheap.

Tomorrow brings more panels and the awards ceremony at night where we will see Rebecca and Kelli duke it out for the Bruce Alexander award (my video camera is ready) And I keep fingers crossed for Deb Ledford in the Hillerman Sky award and Rachel Brady in the Watson award.

Steve Brewer is the toastmaster and I know he'll be great at it. I'm still such a huge fan of Steve's books I'm glad to see him in the spotlight a little bit.
Other than that, not much to report. I can't sleep for some reason so I figured I'd dash out a little update. I must say I miss my girls at home. I've been out of town four times this year which is unusual for me. Daddy will be home soon girls!

Before I go

I haven't posted anything for a while but I've had no real news to report other than frustration and annoyance. But that's no fun. So, the good stuff:

This Thursday I head off to sunny Santa Fe for Left Coast Crime. I had a blast last year so I hope this time around is just as fun. Of course last year was in my home town so this time around is costing quite a bit more . . .
I have a panel on Friday morning at 9am (!) and one on Sunday at 11:00. No booksellers stepped up from the seller's room to order books so I'll be bringing books to consign. Very happy that Southwest doesn't charge for bags! I wish I could just sell them myself but I'm not set up to make change or take credit cards. Plus, I have a feeling they frown on that type of thing, even though no booksellers chose to carry my books. I wonder.

I'm into revisions on my newest novel and the good news is that I really like it. I enjoyed it as I was writing but that glow of discovery can fade quickly. I let it sit for about three weeks so now when I read it through it is all new. Not finding too many mistakes even, which is a bonus.
I have a few short stories that are either due or I just want to write and Jennifer and I are plotting out our next venture. Where does the time go?

All in all I've been feeling very exhausted with the writing thing. With the book still fairly new I'm trying not to take a break from promotion but I've run out of much I can do. Still some guest posts pending and reviews are coming but those take time. Good news spurs me along but hitting a stone wall makes continuing at the same difficult. I know I'm not alone.

Don't you hate it when people don't email you back? As an indie author I have to put myself out there and open myself up to rejection, which I am fine with. But to be ignored is worse in my book. Tell me no but tell me something. That's my complaint corner for this post.

I've been reading some great books lately. A trip to Chicago let me finish off another Steve Hockensmith and it was as good as the rest. Excited that I'm behind in that series and have a few more to go. I read Nobody Move by Denis Johnson and enjoyed it quite a bit. I've been digging in to my old pulps as well (see below). I was liking those so much that I went on the old eBay and bought up a few classics I'd never read. The Asphalt Jungle, The Big Heat and Double Indemnity as well as a few other pulps I'd never heard of but were only .99. I figure if you're going to read an old book, why not read an old book of an old book?
I'm into yet another Victor Gischler, Suicide Squeeze, and loving it as usual. He's one that I purposely have kept a few aside to savor when I know I need a good read. I think this catches me up with his entire catalog though. Maybe after that it's time to finally read the last Duane Swierczynski I've been putting off. But by then maybe Fun & Games will be out!

Fingers crossed I'll have fun stories to report after this weekend. Maybe even a few book sales.

Friday's forgotten books: You'll Get Yours

FORGOTTEN BOOKS:

You’ll Get Yours by Thomas Wills

When choosing old pulp novels I will freely admit to judging a book by its cover. Both title and artwork factor heavily into picking a book I know nothing about by an author I’ve never heard of. It doesn’t help that so many of the writers in the 40s and 50s wrote under several different names.

This is true of Thomas Wills, pen name of author William Ard, not that his real name would have meant anything either.

As part of a fistful of old pulps I picked up recently You’ll Get Yours was very promising based on the great title and marvelously tawdry early 50s artwork. The same night I bought it I cracked open the first chapter and I was hooked. What a grabber! The rest of the slim novel did not disappoint my pulp fiction loving brain.

Pulp is like the famous definition of pornography - I can’t describe it but I know it when I see it. You’ll Get Yours is pure pulp, uncut. A first-person detective tale told in flashback with a society dame trying to hide her past, a sleazy lothario, a heroin addicted stripper, a chase down to Mexico, a ridiculously short romance leading to marriage and plenty of bullets.

Is it high art? No way. That’s not what I was in the market for nor was the author trying to do. This is rock ‘em sock ‘em twenty-five cent action in a book you can fit in your pocket. The plot is helped along by wild coincidence, the main character is a tough guy in the most clichéd sense but it all worked for me.

The thrill of finding a book like this is the lack of expectations, other than the cover which nine times out of ten is better than the book inside these old barn burners. This one lived up to the come-on. 

If you spot a copy biding time on a shelf somewhere, pick it up like I did. You’ll get your quarter's worth.

Scarry Night challenge

There are A LOT of stories floating around today courtesy of Patti Abbott's latest challenge. Below is my contribution. At 800 words each you can spare the time to read through all of them.

SCARS

by Eric Beetner

As she spoke I knew I should have moved closer and held her but I couldn’t bring myself to. In bed, naked, still warm from making love and still freaked out by what I felt on her back, I listened.

The question must have come in my silence because she started spilling when I hadn’t asked a thing. The story she unfolded was horrific. Thirteen years old, a neighbor, kidnapped for four days, rapes over and over and the knife he took to her back to mark each time he had her. Not exactly pillow talk.

“I really don’t mind the scars,” she said.

Well, I did.

Maybe if she’d told me first. Anyway, I felt like a real shit laying there in the dark listening to her start to cry and not putting an arm around her to comfort or tell her it would be okay. What the hell was I supposed to do? What she went through needs a team of psychologists, not a third date that happened to end up in the sack.

The story kept going. She wasn’t the same girl, but her experience was so much like one on the news from when I was a teenager. It horrified me then and I didn’t have to feel the raised lines of the knife scars across her back.

She made me turn the lights off. I like to have at least a little light, usually, and this girl was hot. Tight little body, what I imagined were great breasts. You know how it is for guys, it’s all about the visual. But, I gave in just to make it happen. We could always turn the lights on later. 

My hands traced down her neck and pushed the straps of her bra off and I was not disappointed. All was well until I reached around and slid my hand down her back. I must have jerked my hand away like I had stuck it on a hot plate because she gripped me tighter as if to make sure I couldn’t run away. That’s when she went down on me, a more surefire way to keep a guy from running out on you.

I stuck with it and we made love, but my mind was on those scars. I tried not to be obvious as I snuck my fingertips over them like I was trying to sneak-read some braille. 

She started crying deep, heaving sobs. I wondered if it was because I wasn’t touching her or if she did this every night as a way of coping with her nightmare. Surely I couldn’t have been the first guy she slept with since then. She knew her stuff all too well. Damn, I wondered if anyone had the guts to go back for seconds.

She told me about the cell he made for her out of an old laundry room. It had a kids crib mattress in it and a single lightbulb and a dog bowl of water. A sudden shiver ran over me and I pulled the blankets up higher, but what I really wanted was to get dressed and get out of there. I figured that would be even more insulting than lying still and letting her leak tears all over my clean sheets. I could hear her nose running in each sniff and sob. Oh well, I should change them anyway after what we did.

I have some scars. But, like, fell off my bike scars. Ran into the goal post during a soccer game scars. These were . . . I don’t know what they were. 3-D, that’s for sure.

Funny thing was, the more I thought about them – I’d tuned out what she was saying by then – I had to touch them again.

She paused in her story somewhere around the hospital stay after she was rescued by the police. She tried to catch her breath and not hyperventilate. I reached out and touched her back. She jerked once like my hands were made of ice.

I let my hand hover close to her the way I would approach a wild animal. I let it settle again and brought my flat palm down between her shoulder blades, feeling the indent of each rib and bulge of each scar as I moved down to just above her (very nice) ass.

Her crying slowed. I turned my palm and let the back of my hand glide over her flesh before pivoting and moving back down again, trying to count the raised bubbles of skin.

I slid closer to her, let my naked chest cover her back, feeling each scar’s length on my skin.

“I really don’t mind the scars either,” I said.

I reached a hand over to the nightstand and clicked on the light. They were glorious. I stared, so focused on the scars I didn’t realize she had pushed her hips back into me. We made love again. I told her to start the story over from the top. 

Louder this time.

One step forward . . .

I don't like to use the blog to complain. I'd like to think that's not a reason why I don't update as much as I should. But if this is going to be about my writerly life and possibly share any wisdom at all I need to include the bad news with the good.

Not like I have really bad news, just the daily aggravations of being a self-promoted author.
I had to cancel an appearance today. It would have been the first appearance for Borrowed Trouble. It was to be in Sedona, AZ. which is a beautiful place. Last time I was there was for the Sedona Film Festival with my movie so my associations with the town are very positive. That was the screening where the woman who was supposed to do the Q&A afterward couldn't do it because she was crying too much after the film. Apparently I struck some sort of nerve, which is the point of art, isn't it?
We had to cancel the workshop at The Well Red Coyote due to illness of my co-presenter, Deborah J Ledford and it is in no way her fault. She is, to quote her "at death's door" with the flu so better to postpone than infect a whole room of book lovers. I love Deb and she has been incredibly kind to me so I wish her good health and a speedy recovery.

Trouble is, this is the fourth signing appearance I had been counting on. First off, I know it is my fault to count on anything in this business, or hell, this world. But four? Come on. Throw me a bone here.
All I want is to get out and share the book and, yes, sell a few along the way. I've said many times before that I don't expect to make money at this for a while so the pleasure in having a new book out is actually meeting a select few who might read it and getting out to event that make me feel like a writer. Now I've had the piss poor timing to miss the Mystery Bookstore closing by only a few weeks. I have an invite to come to Chicago and when I found out I will be there in a few weeks for work I thought, great! Get the network to pay for my plane ticket and do a signing at the same time. Perfect for my self-financed book promo workings. To make a trip to Chicago just for a book signing would be a colossally bad financial move costing me about $50-$75 per book I might sell. And only that low because I could stay with my sister for free. But the store's schedule was already booked solid for that weekend. Missed it by that much.

I still might do it later. It's about getting in front of people. One brick in the wall at a time. My frustration right now is that I feel like I'm on brick 2 with Borrowed Trouble and the wall I'm building is getting smaller.

Lucky for me I am still stubborn and naive enough to not quit. These frustrations will continue in one form or another. After more than half my life in some sort of DIY attempt to get my work out there - be it music, film, painting or writing - this is just standard operating procedure. So do I get frustrated? Sure. Does it make me want to throw in the towel. Nope. I don't have it the worst out there, not by a long shot.
I go back to a great quote my Steve Martin, of all people, when he was asked about what it takes to succeed in stand up comedy. What he said applies to any art form though: "Be undeniably good." I'm trying my best, Steve.

And as proof that it's not all bad and I can't get too upset about anything, this week has also been great in other ways. I was invited to contribute a story to another anthology. Man, there is nothing like being invited to the dance. So flattering and such a boost of encouragement that came at just the right time. I also had another story accepted by a favorite publication of mine so I'm thrilled about that.
Working on two stories that are due Monday and thinking about getting to the revision of the new novel.
Oh yeah, I finished that. Draft one anyway. I like it, I think. We shall see. My sixth novel. Crazy. Man, I hope people get to read this stuff.

Note to self: write down where my wife can find all this stuff if I die suddenly. After all, there's no better way to stir up interest in your unpublished work, right? This gives me an idea to start a string of pen names and start killing them off one by one. Imagine making a great living off staging your own death time after time. Sounds like a story . . .