Christa Faust's Blog, page 6

Signing At Skylight

Angel City Faustketeers, it's time for the big home game. So come on over and show support for your local indy bookstore. And me too.

This Saturday, October 1st at 5pm I'll be reading and signing my new Angel Dare novel CHOKE HOLD at:

SKYLIGHT BOOKS
1818 N. Vermont Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90027
Tel: (323) 660-1175

See you there!

B-con Panels

The panel line-up for B-con 2011 has been posted. Here's what I'll be up to:

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15

8:30 A.M. – 9:30 A.M.

WOMAN TROUBLE-Landmark 1,2,3

Crime fiction is rife with 'bad girl' characters.

Russel McLean (M), Lori G. Armstrong, Judy Clemens, Christa Faust, Lauren Henderson, Karen Olson

9:00 P.M. – 10:00 P.M.

BAD SEED-Majestic A,B,C

Sex, Violence, and Everything That Makes A Book Great

Craig Montgomery (M), Christa Faust, Chris Holm, Craig Johnson, Scott Phillips, John Rector, Benjamin Whitmer, Jonathan Woods

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 16

10:00 A.M. – 11:00 A.M.

SHAKE AND FINGER POP-Landmark 4

Fight sports in crime fiction

Eric Beetner(M), Frank Bill, Christa Faust, Jamie Freveletti, Tom Schreck

The full schedule is available here.

See you in Saint Louis!

Jenna Sue

A reviewer recently accused me of creating a "Mary Sue" character in my Supernatural tie-in COYOTE'S KISS. For those who don't know what that means, a "Mary Sue" is a too-perfect wish-fulfillment character that represents the author's own idealized persona.

While I freely admit that the character in question is a wish-fulfillment character, it's a completely different kind of wish. I created that character not because I'd like to be her, but because I'd like to fuck her. After all, we tie-in writers have to do something to spice up the daily grind. I threw in a hot Latina with a big ass. Reason #739 why I love my job.

So, allow me to propose some new terminology. I give you, the "Jenna Sue." Named after legendary porn star Jenna Jameson, of course. Maybe the male equivalent should be called the "Lexington Sue." (For Lexington Steele.) Or maybe they should just be called "CILFs." Characters I'd Like to Fuck.

Authors, have you ever deliberately created a Jenna Sue in any of your fiction? Readers, ever found yourself crushing out on a fictional character? If so, which ones?

PS – if I'm in trouble now for creating one character I'd like to fuck, I'm really gonna be in deep when my latest top-secret project hits the street…

 

On Beyond London, Part 4

Right, Harrogate.

First, the town. We arrived by train on Thursday afternoon, and walked from the station to the hotel. It's a cute little town. So cute, in fact that there were times when I felt like I was on a movie set or in a theme park. I certainly felt like I was visiting another planet when I went to Betty's for a Yorkshire Cream Tea.

Of course, I had coffee with my Fat Rascals. Because I'm American, godammit!

Funny thing about genre conventions, is that they're kinda like a traveling carnival. No matter where you set up the tent, it's always the same freaks inside. So it was great to see many of my friends from Bouchercon, like Donna Moore, Russel McLean, Mark Billingham, Ali Karim, Ayo Onatade and Val McDermid. I even ran into fellow American CJ Box. Of course I met a lot of new friends too.

First and foremost among them is the ferociously talented Cathi Unsworth. I don't even know how to begin to describe how smart and funny and fucking brilliant she is without sounding like a gushing fangirl. But seriously kids, you NEED to be reading her books. It's that simple.

But why the hell didn't I (or anyone else around me, apparently) get a photo of the two of us together?!? We were like an op-art installation, dressed all in black and white, her with her platinum hair with the black streak and me with my dark hair with the platinum streak. Missed the bus on that one, big time.

She and I did the Saturday readers group together, an event hosted by Martyn. Basically a bunch of people read her BAD PENNY BLUES and my MONEY SHOT and then got together to discuss them.

The discussion started off with a bang when an older lady came up to me before we even got in the door to tell me how much she hated my book. She thought it was "a bad Chandler rip-off" (Madam, I'll have you know that I ripped off SPILLANE, not Chandler!) and that she couldn't believe "a pretty girl like me could write something so dreadful." (Funny, I said the same thing about Tania Carver…)

I guess I have a very thick skin, or maybe I'm just an egomaniac, but I've never been seriously bothered by negative reviews or comments. In this case, saying I'm ripping off Chandler is like saying I'm too tall, or too shy. As for the "pretty girls shouldn't write nasty stuff" argument, it's not worth the oxygen it would require to respond to that one. The bottom line is that you don't have to like my book. It ain't for everyone, and I'm okay with that.

Other than the one adamant thumbs down, the readers group went really well and the bookstore sold out of all but one copy of my book. I must be doing something right...

More Harrogate adventures still to come…

Party Hard (Case)

If you're gonna be in or around New York City on the evening of Wednesday, September 21, join publisher Charles Ardai, Lawrence Block and me, your not-so-humble narrator at the Mysterious Bookshop to kick off the relaunch of Hard Case Crime. Block will be signing his sexy and controversial GETTING OFF and I'll be signing my new Angel Dare book CHOKE HOLD. Exact time (6 or 7pm) and the possible inclusion of other HCC authors to be announced, so stay tuned to this blog for details.

Fuck Your Comfort Zone

Taking a short break from my UK reportage to post about a book I just read. THE END OF EVERYTHING by Megan Abbott.

Let me start by saying that I'm an over 18 kinda girl in every possible way. Don't have or want kids. Have no interest in tweenyboppers. Yes, I used to be one, but I'm in recovery. You know, like an alcoholic. I'm perfectly happy to forget those terrible years and pretend they never happened. To pretend I was born 40. Under normal circumstances, you couldn't pay me to read any book with a 13 year old girl as the first-person protagonist.

These are not normal circumstances. This is Megan Abbott.

Megan's been rocking my socks off since DIE A LITTLE and I'm pretty much willing to go anywhere she wants to take me. She took it to a whole new level with THE END OF EVERYTHING.

It's the story of Lizzie, a barely-teenage bundle of longing and breathless secrets, whose best friend disappears from their nice, suburban neighborhood.

But that doesn't really matter. What matters is that this book is absolutely mesmerizing. Powerful and hypnotic and deeply fucked up. It shares common themes with her previous work, like obsession, self-destruction and the irresistible, headlong madness of bad, bad love, but yet it has it's own unique cadence that perfectly captures that wondrous and terrible borderland between childhood and puberty.

So I'm issuing a challenge to my readers, particularly the guys. Break out of your hardboiled comfort zone and read this book. I did, and I fucking loved it. Trust me, you won't be sorry.

On Beyond London, part 3

Alert readers may notice that I'm playing a little fast and loose with chronology in my UK reportage. You know, it's that timey-wimey thing again. But I'll get to the Doctor Who Experience later. Or earlier…

First, Black Park. AKA Transylvania. Look familiar?



That's because it's right near Pinewood Studios and was featured in pretty much every Hammer film ever made. Not to mention a Doctor Who or two. I really love checking out film locations wherever I go and this was a real treat. I only wish I'd brought a corset and a long, flowy white gown.

When Martyn and I were there, the brooding, gloomy vibe was somewhat undercut by a play being put on by a bunch of little kids. Which segues perfectly into what had to be the most terrifying revelation of my entire UK trip.

I thought The Krankies were evil. This was before I was made aware of the existence of an even more pervasive and dangerous menace to the mental health of British children.

Panto.

No, my fellow Americans, that's not a superhero who provides pants for the pantsless. It's this berserk kind of drag show for kids. You heard me. Grown men dressing up like women to entertain children. Oh, and there are women dressed up like men too. I'm not making this shit up. I mean, I'm all for gender bending, letting your freak flag fly and engaging in whatever bizzaro perversion lifts your skirt, but keep it over 18, will ya? I think I've finally wrapped my brain around the phrase "taking the piss" (the Brit equivalent of "busting your balls") but I don't think I'll ever understand Panto.

However, I will mention that I've seen some serious blackmail material. I won't name names, but you know who you are…

Oh yeah, and Doctor Who.



For the record, I would like to make it clear that I was completely unimpressed with the Doctor Who Experience. I was totally cool and above it all and definitely didn't geek out like a 7 year old hopped up on pixie stix while flying the Tardis. Anyone who says different is clearly lying and should be reminded of those blackmail photos…

Next up, Harrogate!

On Beyond London, part 2

Well not just beyond, but in it too. Because, although Martyn's house in Pantywaist Upon Snufflebottom seemed like it was a million miles from the Big Smoke, it was really only a short hop on the train.

As anybody who reads this blog knows I'm a little (well, okay, a lot) obsessed with the film NIGHT AND THE CITY. One of the things I wanted to do was visit some of the London locations where that film was shot.



Many of the places were swarming with tourists and barely recognizable, but Goodwin's Court, the alley that stood in for the exterior of the Silver Fox night club, is pretty much unchanged. I almost expected to run into Molly selling her wilted flowers.

And, by some strange coincidence, actress Googie Withers, who played Helen Nosseross, the ruthless proprietress of the Silver Fox, died the day after I arrived in England. RIP Googie.



After a leisurely wander through the streets of Soho, we eventually hooked up with Mark Billingham and a merry band of British writers and troublemakers for some spicy chicken at Nando's. Still not entirely sure what the deal is with Mark and Nando's. Sexual fetish? Paid spokesperson? Major stockholder? Anyway the sauce was hot and the conversation saucy. After we were all stuffed, we adjourned to a nearby bar where I'd made plans to meet my old friend Michael Marshall Smith and his wife Paula.



It had been ages, something like 10 years, since I'd seen them, and one night was barely enough to catch up, but it was fantastic to see them both again. I like to think that I may have talked MMS into getting back into the Twitter stream (…joooooooooin us…) but we'll see. That boy gives good tweet!

Meanwhile, selfish bitch that I am, I nearly killed my dear husband Martyn by running him around all day and night. He'd picked up some kind of virus, or food poisoning, or intentional poisoning (don't look at me!) the night before and was dragging ass like a half-drowned rat. Still game as fuck, though. He wouldn't let me carry him, although I offered repeatedly.

Anyway it was so worth it for me to have the chance to geek out on those locations, to catch up with old friends and meet some new ones. I owe that cupboard monkey, bigtime!

Next, occult adventures in Black Park…

On Beyond London, part 1

I've been to England several times before, but never managed to make it outside of London. So when I got invited to the Theakston Old Peculiar Crime Writing Festival in Harrogate, I jumped at the chance.

With my con husband Martyn Waites as my trusty native guide, I started my English adventure in the bucolic hamlet of Pantywaist Upon Snufflebottom, where he resides with my sister-wife Linda, their two teenage daughters, and Lola, the second coolest dog in the world. First stop, Sainsbury's.



You heard me. Sainsbury's. One of my favorite things to do when I visit another country is supermarket tourism. (You can see one of my previous supermarket adventures here.) I was charmed and amused by mysterious delicacies like mushy peas and wild English rocket. (!) I was also intrigued by the idea of special supermarket two-for-one editions of popular novels.

I was treated to a traditional English roast, rare Doctor Who episodes and some truly top notch British noir. (Hell Drivers and Séance on a Wet Afternoon.) For my half of the cultural exchange, I shared The Monster Squad, taught the Waites girls how to snap on your momma, and apparently brought some legit urban grit to their sleepy little village. No lie, a bunch of neighborhood sheds were burgled during my visit, including Martyn's, and the villains made off with several lawn mowers. A unprecedented crime wave in Pantywaist!

Tune in tomorrow for further adventures in Blighty.

Escape From L.A.

England, lock up your daughters. I'm off, winging across the Atlantic for the Theakston Old Peculiar Crime Writing Festival. Really looking forward to hanging with my UK peeps, meeting the ferociously brilliant Cathi Unsworth and getting into all sorts of trouble with my beloved con-husband Martyn Waites.

Not sure what sort of internet access I'll have, but I'll check in when I can. See you on the other side.