H.B. Berlow's Blog, page 13

W.I.P. UPDATE

[image error]

Back on July 27 of this year I posted about a handful of W.I.P. (Works In Progress). Some were active endeavors while others were things I had on a back burner for a long time that I wanted to get to.

I created that post so that I could visualize what I wanted to develop and, well, to challenge myself by openly communicating that to anyone who reads this blog. You know, put it out there and you can’t back down. Now, nearly three months later, here’s an update:

Fifth draft on book one of new historical crime fiction series. This takes place in post-WW II Wichita with a main character (private investigator) who is Jewish and finds himself caught up between the Laws of God and the Laws of man. Conscientiously avoiding stereotypical tropes of hard-boiled crime fiction while attempting to maintain the mood and tone. So far, as much research as writing.

*(Well, this has been submitted to a publisher who has shown interest. After the first three chapters, there was a request for the complete manuscript.)

The outline for book two of aforementioned series. Now that I have a strong feeling for the main character and the substance of the series, why not?

*(I actually started writing this one. A chapter and a half and more of an outline but mostly approaching as a Pantser.)

Third draft of one-off historical crime fiction novel. This was an attempt to use Aristotle’s principles of unity to a certain degree. Titled “63 Hours in Wichita”, it is largely an experiment in condensing a taut action crime tale down to basic elements in a reasonable time frame, yet using that time as an impetus to tell the tale.

*(Nothing further yet. Needs more thought to flesh it out and make it more action oriented.)

First draft of a pulp fiction novel. Like real old school, 50’s cheese. A paroled ex-con just trying to rebuild his life encounters a wide-ranging cast of characters, including his ex-wife, in a factory that manufactures carnival novelties. Going for dark and seedy.

*(Another two chapters. I have to be a more seedy mood for writing this.)

Reworking a transgressive novel I started over 15 years ago. It is the tale of a bored 40-soemthing divorcee who hates his job and encounters a mentor who teaches him how to be a contract killer as a sideline. Naturally, the elements of darkness seep through this, as well as subtle commentary regarding self-help and wellness programs. This one is titled WEEKEND GETAWAYS, OR ADVENTURES IN CONTRACT KILLING.

*(Revised, edited, and submitted to two publishers. Still researching others prone to this genre.)

Reworking a metafiction entitled THE NOVEL TITLED “THIS IS NOT A NOVEL” in which a fictional biographer named H.B. Berlow is writing a biography of a fictional author named…H.B. Berlow. It touches upon the essay “The Death of the Author” by Roland Barthes who argues against that form of literary criticism that uses an author’s biography and experiences in order to find the meaning of their work.

*(Still revising and editing. Completed another 50 pages since original post.)

Reworking a contemporary crime fiction tentatively titled PROFESSOR THUG. It was outlined as a tribute to a late co-worker who was truly an intellect but looked like, well, a thug. Have gone through at least three different outlines and am still trying to figure out what the story actually is.

*(Nothing further.)

Reworking an episodic contemporary crime fiction tentatively titled THE STOOGES revolving around three guys who come together for a heist who have no business doing anything other than working in fast food. They get in very deep. This was a former NaNoWriMo project.

*(Nothing further.)

Outlining an alternate history novel. I actually have two tracks this could run. Even though the series has ended, I started watching THE MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE on Amazon Prime and became fascinated by the concept. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?

*(Nothing further. I fear this might require a great deal of research, even more than I’m used to.)

Outlining a two-scene one-act play. A friend who did a session at the 2022 OWFI Writers Conference provided the inspiration as well as the encouragement. My drama days were years ago. Hopefully, I’ve grown as a writer and I can do this again.

*(Completed. Sent to a friend who is an actor and playwright who found it a worthy effort. So, I know I can do this. Now, the question is what to do with it and what further works can I create?)

The tally is 6 active works out of 10. The challenge has been set forth and I continue to meet it.

A WRITER’S BOARD

A while back, I had read of an idea for writer’s to create a Pinterest board with images that could inspire and motivate them. It could be anything, from pithy sayings to images of breathtaking beauty.

I decided to immerse myself in a noir sensibility. I already enjoyed films of that ilk and was in the beginning stages of writing historical crime fiction. So, I started collection images that “put me in the mood”, not necessarily for the project I was working on, but a general mood influencer.

It’s quite easy to go onto the app on my phone, go to the board that I have titled “A Crime Writer’s Photo File” and just, well, absorb the notions and ideas that come into my head. While we as writers sit in a room at a keyboard and connect words to create stories, we are also cognizant of the visual nature of our craft.

These handful of photos are what set off story ideas and put settings firmly implanted in my brain. To simply start to create such a board is enough to make any writer seek out more inspiration. The few that follow will give you an idea where my mind is at while writing historical crime fiction.

PLACES THAT INSPIRE, PART 2

[image error]

My wife and I decided to celebrate our 20th anniversary in San Francisco. It had always been a city of fascination for me due to what I perceived as its similarities to Boston (fresh seafood, cities with a lot of history, rich multicultural environment). Additionally, from a pure nostalgia standpoint, it was where my mother was stationed during the Second World War. What better way to honor a women who was married for 65 years.

We knew we could not take in everything we would like to have seen. Who can? But we positioned ourselves to maximize our enjoyment by making sure we ate a lot of seafood (a rarity when you live in Kansas) and made our way to a beach to see and hear and smell the ocean (another aspect missing in Kansas).

For a solid month prior to the trip, we watched as many movies as we could that took place there: Bullitt, Vertigo, Dark Passage, Foul Play, etc. We figured we might be able to see some of those places in real life, assuming they were still there.

Naturally, as a writer of historical crime fiction, we HAD to visit Alcatraz. We got tickets to the first tour on the Sunday morning after we flew in on Saturday. I’m not much when it comes to small boats and rough seas, but I had to buck up in order to gain a memorable experience.

[image error][image error][image error]

Well, it was a fascinating deep dive into history. Whatever I thought I knew was miniscule to what I learned. Just to see stunning gardens on the island was awe-inspiring. There is a recorded tour with the use of headphones. You can stop the recording and spend extra time in various places, take photos, and just be amazed. The fact that it was a beautiful day weather-wise was an absolute bonus.

[image error]

As we boarded the ferry for the ride back, my wife utters something akin to using Alcatraz in one of my Ark City novels. For the remainder of the watery journey, my gaze was transfixed in front of me. By the time we disembarked, I had the first thoughts that would eventually turn into “From Somewhere in a Dream.” I even went so far as to use the real-life robber Neil McCauley who was the inspiration for the character that Robert De Niro played in “Heat”.

As a bonus, we ate at John’s Grill sitting one table away from Hammett’s regular spot. Overall, I can’t recall a time when a special occasion coincided with something so deeply entwined in my writing.

PLACES THAT INSPIRE, PART 1

[image error]

It was 2014. My second book of contemporary crime fiction (now out of print) was released. I was trying to decide WHAT to write next. Every time I started thinking about something modern, I kept getting pulled back to the countless stories my wife’s late uncle told me about Arkansas City, Kansas, more colloquially known as Ark City.

There were references to underground tunnels, a nickname of “Little Chicago”, and a mysterious character of the “Grandfather on the Hill”, the supposed head of all things criminal within the small burg. Since I had always been fascinated by the gangster era (Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson, Bonnie & Clyde), it seemed these tales were enough to weave into a book.

[image error][image error]

I realized there would be references to the police station, to the rooming house where the main character lived, and to various businesses. But there had to be that one central locale where (with apologies to borrowing from a classic t.v. show) everyone knows your name. Well, my wife’s aunt was the owner of one of the best small town restaurants I’ve ever eaten at, Daisy Mae’s Café .

The place has been around for a long time, not necessarily in the early 1930’s when the story takes place. And, at the time, it was known as The Shamrock. Now, I had lived in Boston and such a name definitely implies a more Irish setting, certainly even something out of Chicago. Daisy Mae’s Café is the perfect name for a place where the locals gather and the police are welcome patrons.

There was never any intention of writing more than one book. However, after a publisher advised me that series books are preferable, I thought long and hard about continuing the adventures of Baron Witherspoon, the facially scarred World War I veteran and beat cop. Additionally, I used the names of my wife’s aunt and uncle throughout the series, which takes place over twenty years. It was my way of thanking them for the stories and the abiding support during this adventure

“FROM SOMEWHERE IN A DREAM” – EXCERPT

Book Four of the Ark City Confidential Chronicles finds facially scarred World War I veteran Baron Witherspoon being pushed out of his job as a beat cop. It’s 1948. He’s fifty. His health is beginning to decline.

With a secretary/researcher at the local paper as his advocate, he lands a job as a newspaper columnist. Mixing tales of past police adventures with anecdotal tales, he becomes even more popular than before. Life is quieter and stable and not terribly boring.

However, over the course of the next six years, he will come face to face with specters from the past, issues and encounters considered long since dead and buried. But Baron finds there is no Tomorrow until the Past is laid to rest.

Charlie Gullickson extensively reviewed the first few columns as he knew more about writing than I did. This was the most schooling I think I ever had in my life. After I corrected the same mistakes I made over and over again, he finally helped me find my “voice” even though I didn’t know I had one. He was far more patient with me than he was most of his students. Once it became second nature to me, Sandy encouraged me to alternate between funny stories of the everyday life of a policeman with the serious and darker stories of crime in our fair city. In this way, she explained, newspaper subscribers would read more often to wait for the “juicy stuff” as she liked to call it. I got the feeling it was she who made the recommendation to Mr. Stauffer. It just might be we all have a guardian angel over our shoulder. Mine apparently was gray haired and bespectacled.

On occasion, I visited the station and caught wind of a local domestic disturbance, a minor theft, or public drunkenness. My contacts were former co-workers, young guys who saw me as an older brother. I would try to educate the readers on local city ordinances. However, the managing editor heavily censored my story about Article 6—Offenses Affecting Morals and Decency, particularly 9-612, Section 82 on Street Walking. It might be something I could put into a book at a later point in my developing career. For the decent people of Arkansas City, it was like taking cod liver oil.

Whenever I was at Daisy Mae’s, someone would likely lift their paper and point out the column of mine they were reading. Bernard Welch’s favorite comment was, “Well, you done it again.” Twenty-eight years as a policeman made me recognizable around town. In a few short months, I now achieved a notoriety of a different sort. I was amazed to consider the many changes in my life, the various versions of myself I had been. Now, I was on a par with Walter Winchell or Ernie Pyle. A scribe, a guy named Scoop, hat pushed back from my head, pencil behind my ear, banging out a story you couldn’t stop reading, on the verge of breaking The Big One and yelling “Stop the presses!”, and rubbing elbows with butter and egg men and canaries.

It was as though I had been given a new life, or at the very least a new chance. I slept better, didn’t have quite the tingling in my face, and many of the dreams vanished like a puff of smoke. It was as though the past became a distant memory.

Until the day I came face to face with it.

“From Somewhere in a Dream” is available on paperback and on Kindle.

DIGGING DEEPER

[image error]

Have you ever wondered why a writer chooses a particular genre? It may not be important at all, especially if the biography of a writer does not add to your enjoyment of their work. Maybe it is only other writers that are curious.

I was at the local authors day at the Wichita Advanced Learning Library back on August 20. It was being held for the first time since 2019 and it was an honor to attend. Sitting near me was a gentleman who I believe had two published works in the science fiction field. He told me of his background as an engineer of some sort and his chosen genre makes sense.

Now, I do not have a background in law enforcement, have never been arrested or involved in any police business (outside of my local Neighborhood Watch), am not a gun owner or aficionado, nor do I associate with known criminals. Why, then, do I write crime fiction?

Additionally, I am not an extremist, drug-user, or alcoholic, and have no leaning toward sexual deviance or overtly wild behavior. Yet, I do write transgressive fiction.

We cannot simply associate a writer’s background with their genre, cannot account for a lifestyle or personal experience as the motivation behind a style or pattern of writing. Roland Barthes, in his essay “The Death of the Author” argues against the use of biography for the purposes of determining a writer’s intentions within literary criticism.

For the longest time, I would joke that the reason I write crime and transgressive fiction was due to my work in customer service. At this point, for over forty years, I have plied my trade within a variety of fields. Whereas I do not presume to have seen human horrors worse than policemen, firemen, doctors, or psychiatrists, my view of human nature is based on so-called “normal” people. It’s the guy or gal calling in about their bill, their service, their order. What may start out as a basic inquiry becomes a bitter battle of wills.

Perhaps they call having already been disappointed and frustrated and immediately set out to destroy the next voice they hear. Without passing any judgment, I have wondered how human beings can be pushed to such extremes. Therein lies my motivation.

The thing is that while considering these people and their emotional journey, I am forced to look inward. When do I get frustrated? What or whom pushes my buttons? What are the circumstances under which I go to an extreme, willingly or unwittingly, completely disregarding the courtesies I was raised with?

In this case, it is my own personal “biography” I use to explore themes in my writing. There might be an occasional reminder of an event from the distant past, the one better left unremembered, that oozes to the surface of your consciousness and reminds you that you, too, are capable of being pushed off center. To that end, I can become aware and do my best to maintain a more healthy approach to life, while at the same time crafting a whale of a story.

However, to dig that deep is something that can be dangerous. Slipping off the precipice into the darkest elements of your psyche is always a possibility. You just hope to have the strength to dig yourself out and come back into the light.

TRUST THE PROCESS

[image error]

I have talked innumerable times about the Craft of Writing and how much respect I have for it. It seems, however, I have not delved into details as much, choosing instead to describe various aspects of the craft.

There are many genres and countless writing teachers with varying approaches. It is the same for any discipline: cooking with various cuisines and schools; martial arts; philosophies and religions. Therefore, I do not feel it necessary to discuss what I find important as a writer or go into great length on how I approach writing a novel or poem or play.

What is necessary is that writers find the style of craft that works for them, makes them feel comfortable, and allows them to progress and improve. To that end, we are all on the same path, though it might be parallel.

From that point of discovery, that revelation (single or over a period of time), it is vital to trust the process you have created or determined for yourself. Naturally, the real world alters many aspects, places predicaments and alternate paths before you. A family emergency, a change of house or job, an addition to or loss in your life. For me, returning to writing, to the craft of writing, to the process, is like re-centering my life, getting me back on track.

For the last four months, I have been contributing regularly to this blog. One post allowed me to formulate a concrete list of Works in Progress. Some were active; others I wanted to be. Because of that, I made submissions of two of the pieces to various publishers. Visualizing the WIP allowed me to focus on them.

I am reading daily, mostly at my lunch break at work, and, when I’m not writing, at night. It is the fuel that runs the engine. While I am making plans toward retirement, I feel a growing sensation of creative energy that needs expression and outlet. So, if it’s not at my desk, it’s in the kitchen.

It has taken me 60 years to become who I am. I do not know where I am in this process. But I continue to trust the development and growth, and am happy to continue down the path.

“LOST IN THE PLAINS” – EXCERPT

Book Three of the Ark City Confidential Chronicles takes place in the middle of World War II. It is 1943 and Arkansas City, Kansas, like most American towns and cities, is on high alert and doing everything they can to aid in the war effort.

A visit by two FBI agents to the police department makes the officers and chief of police aware of an escaped German soldier from a POW camp in Concordia, Kansas, some 200 miles away. The federal agents expressly indicate they are providing the information as a courtesy.

Baron Witherspoon, the facially scarred World War I veteran and beat cop, strongly believes there is a reason this soldier might be headed for his town. With the chief’s okay, he puts together a team of officers to be prepared for anything.

“We’re not interested in making our presence here widely known, Chief.” Burke continued like a slow moving train. It was apparent he wasn’t used to small 28 town police departments and felt he could use the weight and authority of the federal government to get unabated cooperation. He didn’t know Lester Richardson.

 “Gonna be kinda hard with those suits.” I knew vaudeville was dead, but I couldn’t resist. Nevertheless, we needed to make a point, and I knew the chief would rather have me make it than undermine his position on the force. “Let’s be honest, guys. You come into a small Kansas town dressed like gangsters from the North Side of Chicago and expect to blend in and go unnoticed? Seems to me like most folks would think you were the bad guys. All we’ve got to go on is the picture show.”

 Burke and Gordon had what amounted to a non verbal discussion, looking at each other as though it were a secret code. Burke proceeded with his college lecture.

“A German POW walked away from a work detail on a farm in Concordia. The farmer’s son was dressed in similar work clothes when the detail returned to the camp.”

 “We have a POW camp in Concordia?” The chief and I exchanged confused glances.

 “We have POW camps all over the United States, Officer Witherspoon. We don’t have the resources in terms of manpower to maintain such facilities in the various theaters of war. Most of the prisoners are regulars in the armed forces and not diehard Nazis. Those types are held…elsewhere. For the most part, these soldiers are grateful to be out of harm’s way and the local residents have found it beneficial to have additional labor at a very low cost. These men are not a danger to the citizens.”

“Except for one of them who just didn’t feel like returning to his gilded cage.”

“Yes, well, that’s why we’re here.”

 “But he’s not a danger to the citizens.”

 “We don’t believe so.”

With a smile as wide as Joe E. Brown, I replied, “I’m sorry, guys. I think I’m

missing something here. A German soldier, who’s not a danger to the citizens, walks off a farm in Concordia and you think he’s coming all the way down here to Ark City?”

“Lost in the Plains” is available in paperback and on Kindle.

Nuances and intricacies

[image error]

Recently, out of the blue, I was reminded of a bit of humor my dad passed on to me years ago. It came under the heading of “bathroom wall doggerel” and it went like this:

Here I sit, broken hearted./Paid a nickel and only farted.

Now, the comedy in this comes from the knowledge that, at one time, there were pay toilets, mostly in major cities. There weren’t the huge gas station/convenience store entities that exist now, offering weary travelers all kinds of comfort. Naturally, if you have no understanding of this concept, there is no humor.

However, as someone who writes historical crime fiction, I have to be uniquely aware of the nuances and intricacies of daily life, above and beyond the police procedural aspects. Driving laws, taxi fares, grocery stores, business operations — all of these details are an integral part of historical fiction.

For “Secrets of the Righteous”, book two in the “Ark City Confidential Chronicles” series, I had to determine the approximate monthly pay of beat cop Baron Witherspoon as well as train fares and schedules that would get him from Arkansas City, KS to Cleveland, OH. I had to refrain from using the expressions “serial killer” and “profiler” as these terms did not exist in 1938.

For book three, “Lost in the Plains”, I visited the Camp Concordia POW camp to understand how life was for German soldiers and to calculate a method of desertion/escape (despite the historical fact this did not occur). I then visited the remnants of Strother Air Field in an attempt to visualize what it was like during the war.

For the entire series, I researched period verbiage, police department protocols and regulations, wardrobe ranging from 1934 to 1954, and so many other small details. Much of my research did not make it into any of the books. But, I had it all at my disposal. By covering myself in as much authenticity as possible, I could “feel” the essence of the locale while writing.

I’m sure there are writers that do not go into as much detail. However, readers are far more knowledgeable now than, say, twenty years ago. It is far too easy for an inaccuracy to be easily spotted and, therefore, allow a reader to fall out of the magical spell the writer has so desperately attempted to create.

As I proceed forward on a new series, I have taken all that I have learned and continue to make an effort to add the details into my writing. In this way, I hope to create an experience of pleasure and entertainment.

“SECRETS OF THE RIGHTEOUS” – EXCERPT

Book Two of the Ark City Confidential Chronicles picks up a year later. A series of violent murders are determined to tie in to a tragedy in the past. The conclusion to that case haunts Baron Witherspoon, the facially scarred World War I veteran and beat cop in the small Kansas town of Arkansas City.

Three years later, when the city of Wichita is experiencing their own series of violent murders, Baron must put aside a tidal wave of feelings to seek out a demented killer. He will have to rely on the assistance and experience of a great law enforcement agent and get inside the mind of a madman.

“Wichita Police Department is requesting your presence for a…consultation.” I didn’t respond. I didn’t understand what that meant. The chief finally looked up. “They’ve got a series of crimes similar to what you…worked on three years ago.”

            “The men who were brutally murdered?”

“Says here,” he indicated holding up the folder, “several women have been stabbed. Among other things.” Again, I remained silent. While our case was extreme, certainly for our part of Kansas, I was certain a big city like Wichita would have had the resources to investigate such a case.

“Why me, sir?”

            “Seems they heard about your investigation and want your feedback.” I nodded, as it was the only other thing I could think to do. “You can drive up today. Better pack a bag in case you have to stay a bit. Oh, and save your hotel and meal receipts and the department will reimburse you.” At least now I had something to do.

            As I started to walk out, I turned back and shut the door again.

            “Chief, do they…know about me?”

“About what?”

            “My, well, my face and, you know, my scars.”

            He dropped the folder on his desk, flustered but trying to hide it with a moderate anger.

“Witherspoon, you’re a police officer. They’re police officers. They are currently investigating what appear to be horrific killings. They are not going to be concerned with your war wounds.”

            I nodded and politely left his office knowing there were many people who would not consider these merely war wounds but something closer to a monster like Frankenstein. They were so keen on having me assist them; what would they think when they saw me? My doubts did not go away.

“Secrets of the Righteous” is available in paperback and on Kindle.