Bruce Beckham's Blog, page 3
April 23, 2020
Read out the storm
I heard a report on the radio that a third of people are reading more during the coronavirus crisis. I certainly fall into this category myself, and last night at 3am I stirred to find my wife was on her Kindle – although she blamed it on toothache. At the moment I’m reading Helen Taylor’s Why Women Read Fiction, and despite being the wrong sex I can identify with many of the traits she exposes, not least the escape to comfort and reassurance that a well-loved book provides – to the extent that many adult readers will return to their precious childhood collections.
It’s hard to buy into the idea of silver linings when so many people are losing their lives, and each of us in our own way has become more isolated; though the knowledge of cleaner air and empty skies, clear water and more wildlife, quieter days, fewer crimes, more walking, cycling and, yes, reading are all aspects that can help to sustain us. They say that there’s a long road ahead; at best we’ve reached the eye of the storm; if so it can’t be a bad thing to shelter in the lee of familiar tribulations and happy endings.
It’s hard to buy into the idea of silver linings when so many people are losing their lives, and each of us in our own way has become more isolated; though the knowledge of cleaner air and empty skies, clear water and more wildlife, quieter days, fewer crimes, more walking, cycling and, yes, reading are all aspects that can help to sustain us. They say that there’s a long road ahead; at best we’ve reached the eye of the storm; if so it can’t be a bad thing to shelter in the lee of familiar tribulations and happy endings.
October 31, 2019
Read Skelgill for Free
If you're a Prime member and you have a Kindle device you can borrow one book per month absolutely free from the Kindle Owners' Lending Library - and the entire DI Skelgill series is available.
Here's a link with a short video that explains it all:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/help/custom...
(If that doesn't work just type into your browser something like "Amazon Help - Borrow Books from the Kindle Owners' Lending Library".)
Basically, all you have to do is open your Kindle and click on the Kindle Store icon (the shopping cart, or trolley as Skelgill would say). Then you click on the drop-down menu (3 horizontal bars, top right), and from the list that appears select the Lending Library. Once you're in there, search for the title you would like, and on its product page there should be a button that says "Borrow for Free".
So - why not try searching "Skelgill" - it seems to do the trick! (Oh, and I'm sure other good detectives are available.)
Here's a link with a short video that explains it all:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/help/custom...
(If that doesn't work just type into your browser something like "Amazon Help - Borrow Books from the Kindle Owners' Lending Library".)
Basically, all you have to do is open your Kindle and click on the Kindle Store icon (the shopping cart, or trolley as Skelgill would say). Then you click on the drop-down menu (3 horizontal bars, top right), and from the list that appears select the Lending Library. Once you're in there, search for the title you would like, and on its product page there should be a button that says "Borrow for Free".
So - why not try searching "Skelgill" - it seems to do the trick! (Oh, and I'm sure other good detectives are available.)
September 10, 2019
Still game
In her autobiography Agatha Christie rued that she had started with Hercule Poirot “so old” – and indeed by the time of his last appearance his age has been estimated at 125!
Ian Rankin encountered similar problems with Rebus, who became too old to be a serving policeman and, eventually, too old to be credible... and so the author slowed down his ageing!
Colin Dexter was a little more judicious in his handling of Morse – but the erudite inspector became so closely associated with the actor John Thaw (whose ageing could not be curtailed) that similar problems arose.
Thankfully, a more enlightened approach has gained traction, as exemplified by Sherlock – after all, why would a fictional character need to age at all? Nobody seems to struggle with Dr Who and his/her continual rejuvenation.
The corollary, however, is some sacrifice of the so-called ‘back story’. If the great protagonist is trapped in a time warp, where will he or she find space to socialise and beyond? It means the pendulum swings towards the ‘series’ rather than the ‘serial’. But at least it avoids the bizarre phenomenon encountered in those eternal soap operas, where deceased characters are resurrected, requiring a suspension of disbelief of an entirely higher order.
Of course, no author really knows for how long they might champion their hero – but it seems from the above case studies to err on the side of caution would be good advice. And the ‘Sherlock’ method has inherent appeal to any writer who is in denial of their own ageing!
Ian Rankin encountered similar problems with Rebus, who became too old to be a serving policeman and, eventually, too old to be credible... and so the author slowed down his ageing!
Colin Dexter was a little more judicious in his handling of Morse – but the erudite inspector became so closely associated with the actor John Thaw (whose ageing could not be curtailed) that similar problems arose.
Thankfully, a more enlightened approach has gained traction, as exemplified by Sherlock – after all, why would a fictional character need to age at all? Nobody seems to struggle with Dr Who and his/her continual rejuvenation.
The corollary, however, is some sacrifice of the so-called ‘back story’. If the great protagonist is trapped in a time warp, where will he or she find space to socialise and beyond? It means the pendulum swings towards the ‘series’ rather than the ‘serial’. But at least it avoids the bizarre phenomenon encountered in those eternal soap operas, where deceased characters are resurrected, requiring a suspension of disbelief of an entirely higher order.
Of course, no author really knows for how long they might champion their hero – but it seems from the above case studies to err on the side of caution would be good advice. And the ‘Sherlock’ method has inherent appeal to any writer who is in denial of their own ageing!
May 29, 2019
Unknown unknowns
People are sometimes surprised when I tell them I don’t read contemporary crime fiction. I guess this seems doubly remarkable – a) given my job and b) living in Scotland, where there is a competent crime writer on almost every corner. Why miss out!
The answer is the clumsy expression ‘unconscious plagiarism’ – and its classical cousin ‘cryptomnesia’ (the experiencing of a memory as if it were a new inspiration). Not just phrases to be avoided, but habits that if unwittingly acquired could lead to something between embarrassment and litigation (a spectrum from ‘pissing off’ to ‘passing off’, one might say).
Now, however, I need a new word. In November 2018 I started writing my latest DI Skelgill murder mystery. For some time I have wanted to use as a setting a ‘sleeper train’ (conscious plagiarism). Sure enough, the characters arrived at Euston Station just before midnight and trundled off together. One of these turned out to be a forty-something female journalist, desperate for a scoop to ward off threats of redundancy, and battling not just fate but her own foibles and failings.
Researching around the subject, in January I came across the gem of the novel that is Stamboul Train by Graham Greene. Published in 1932 this is the original Orient Express yarn – and quite a bloodthirsty thriller, in Greene’s inimitable dry style.
But, stone me! If my middle-aged female hack, desperate for a scoop, battling her weaknesses isn’t in it! I mean, not just a vague likeness – but almost exactly my character: the same pushy personality, the same pathos, the same motives. Yet I had never heard of Stamboul Train the book, nor seen the film (Orient Express, 1934).
Telepathy? The collective unconscious? Hmm... or just plain coincidence?
The nearest comparison I can make is by reference to my many years in advertising. Occasionally frustrated to lose a pitch and yet see our idea in lights a few months later, we would be told, “Ah – you see, two agencies came up with the same concept”. Maybe I should have believed them more often!
(By the way, credit to Donald Rumsfeld for the title.)
The answer is the clumsy expression ‘unconscious plagiarism’ – and its classical cousin ‘cryptomnesia’ (the experiencing of a memory as if it were a new inspiration). Not just phrases to be avoided, but habits that if unwittingly acquired could lead to something between embarrassment and litigation (a spectrum from ‘pissing off’ to ‘passing off’, one might say).
Now, however, I need a new word. In November 2018 I started writing my latest DI Skelgill murder mystery. For some time I have wanted to use as a setting a ‘sleeper train’ (conscious plagiarism). Sure enough, the characters arrived at Euston Station just before midnight and trundled off together. One of these turned out to be a forty-something female journalist, desperate for a scoop to ward off threats of redundancy, and battling not just fate but her own foibles and failings.
Researching around the subject, in January I came across the gem of the novel that is Stamboul Train by Graham Greene. Published in 1932 this is the original Orient Express yarn – and quite a bloodthirsty thriller, in Greene’s inimitable dry style.
But, stone me! If my middle-aged female hack, desperate for a scoop, battling her weaknesses isn’t in it! I mean, not just a vague likeness – but almost exactly my character: the same pushy personality, the same pathos, the same motives. Yet I had never heard of Stamboul Train the book, nor seen the film (Orient Express, 1934).
Telepathy? The collective unconscious? Hmm... or just plain coincidence?
The nearest comparison I can make is by reference to my many years in advertising. Occasionally frustrated to lose a pitch and yet see our idea in lights a few months later, we would be told, “Ah – you see, two agencies came up with the same concept”. Maybe I should have believed them more often!
(By the way, credit to Donald Rumsfeld for the title.)
December 23, 2018
Required Reading
At this time of year I love to be engulfed by a seasonal novel, the cosier the better, despite that I generally choose rather more hard-bitten suspense. It feels like part of the Christmas tradition, and transports me back to my childhood, the pine scent of the tree, the crackling fire, snow against the window if we were lucky, the sound of carol singers – the all-enveloping yet indefinable sense of mysticism and magic.
Indeed, a well-chosen Christmas story can guarantee all of these things – and walking the dog yesterday morning I was rather rueing that my present reading does not fit the bill. And then there was a small moment of serendipity. My dog is a placid little chap (I mean, if you were called Noodles you wouldn’t be expected to strike terror into anybody), but he will insist on guarding our lunch spot in the woods from canine ‘trespassers’. Yesterday he set up a heck of a commotion, and I was rather embarrassed as he single-pawedly saw off three large Dalmatians (a variety that for some reason also happens to be his sworn enemy – I think he was nipped as a precocious pup).
Of course! The Hundred And One Dalmatians, by Dodie Smith. I used to devour it every Christmas, for years it seemed – until my age was well past its read-by date. And then, successively, I inflicted it upon the kids, timing the staging of bedtime reads so that we always started good old ‘101’ in mid-December. But now our youngest has graduated to Instagram, and it’s several years since I relived the trials and tribulations of Pongo and Missus as they strove valiantly to rescue their puppies and lead them home through biting Suffolk blizzards, their distraught owners the Dearlys waiting forlornly beside the Christmas tree in their cosy London mews house.
If you have only ever seen a movie version, I think you will be more than pleasantly surprised by the book. It brims with nostalgia, is absolutely hilarious at times (most of these jokes plainly intended for an adult audience), and is extraordinarily insightful and yet original. Sure – read it to a small person if you can – if not, well – I’m going to try it on Noodles, I’m sure he’ll appreciate this wonderful seasonal treat! But dare I mention the breed?
Indeed, a well-chosen Christmas story can guarantee all of these things – and walking the dog yesterday morning I was rather rueing that my present reading does not fit the bill. And then there was a small moment of serendipity. My dog is a placid little chap (I mean, if you were called Noodles you wouldn’t be expected to strike terror into anybody), but he will insist on guarding our lunch spot in the woods from canine ‘trespassers’. Yesterday he set up a heck of a commotion, and I was rather embarrassed as he single-pawedly saw off three large Dalmatians (a variety that for some reason also happens to be his sworn enemy – I think he was nipped as a precocious pup).
Of course! The Hundred And One Dalmatians, by Dodie Smith. I used to devour it every Christmas, for years it seemed – until my age was well past its read-by date. And then, successively, I inflicted it upon the kids, timing the staging of bedtime reads so that we always started good old ‘101’ in mid-December. But now our youngest has graduated to Instagram, and it’s several years since I relived the trials and tribulations of Pongo and Missus as they strove valiantly to rescue their puppies and lead them home through biting Suffolk blizzards, their distraught owners the Dearlys waiting forlornly beside the Christmas tree in their cosy London mews house.
If you have only ever seen a movie version, I think you will be more than pleasantly surprised by the book. It brims with nostalgia, is absolutely hilarious at times (most of these jokes plainly intended for an adult audience), and is extraordinarily insightful and yet original. Sure – read it to a small person if you can – if not, well – I’m going to try it on Noodles, I’m sure he’ll appreciate this wonderful seasonal treat! But dare I mention the breed?
June 1, 2018
No pressure
At just after six this morning I was typing half-awake when an email came in. I have all the bleeps turned off so I can’t be disturbed when I’m writing – but you know how that little ghostly précis comes up in the corner of the screen? It caught my eye – and prompted me to open the message.
It was from Amazon. Would I like to order ‘Murder Mystery Weekend’, the new novel by Bruce Beckham?
Okay – nothing unusual there – that’s just Amazon doing their job, recommending things I might like. Except the thing I’m writing, that I have just interrupted is ‘Murder Mystery Weekend’, by Bruce Beckham.
Jeepers! It comes out in – let me calculate – yes, 36 days!
I wonder – is this Amazon kindly advising everyone who has (hopefully) enjoyed another of the series that the latest is coming soon? Or is it a clever ploy? Do they only send it to me – to chivvy me along?
I had better get back to the book!
It was from Amazon. Would I like to order ‘Murder Mystery Weekend’, the new novel by Bruce Beckham?
Okay – nothing unusual there – that’s just Amazon doing their job, recommending things I might like. Except the thing I’m writing, that I have just interrupted is ‘Murder Mystery Weekend’, by Bruce Beckham.
Jeepers! It comes out in – let me calculate – yes, 36 days!
I wonder – is this Amazon kindly advising everyone who has (hopefully) enjoyed another of the series that the latest is coming soon? Or is it a clever ploy? Do they only send it to me – to chivvy me along?
I had better get back to the book!
January 17, 2018
Creativ-i-tea?
I found an article in today’s newspaper, “Want to get creative? Try a cup of tea.”
Peking University’s School of Psychological and Cognitive Sciences conducted creativity tests, giving human guinea pigs either black tea or water to drink immediately beforehand.
It seems tea won hands down – both when it came to generating new ideas, and in general creativity.
Speaking as a tea jenny myself (Scottish glossary: a person who drinks a lot of tea), I was pleased to hear of this outcome. Based on my daily consumption, I reckon each Skelgill mystery takes me 1800 cups from start to finish.
1800 bags of my preferred brand cost about £100. Since there is now scientific proof that I NEED this to do my job, can I put tea on my tax return?
Or is that what’s known as creative accounting?
Peking University’s School of Psychological and Cognitive Sciences conducted creativity tests, giving human guinea pigs either black tea or water to drink immediately beforehand.
It seems tea won hands down – both when it came to generating new ideas, and in general creativity.
Speaking as a tea jenny myself (Scottish glossary: a person who drinks a lot of tea), I was pleased to hear of this outcome. Based on my daily consumption, I reckon each Skelgill mystery takes me 1800 cups from start to finish.
1800 bags of my preferred brand cost about £100. Since there is now scientific proof that I NEED this to do my job, can I put tea on my tax return?
Or is that what’s known as creative accounting?
October 29, 2017
Free DI Skelgill
If you are a Prime Member and have a Kindle or Fire device you can borrow the 10-book DI Skelgill series for FREE!
It’s really simple...
Here’s how it works (with my Kindle Paperwhite)...
Switch on and make sure you have a WiFi connection.
Open the Kindle Store (tap on the shopping trolley icon).
Tap the “Search” box.
Type “Inspector Skelgill” and then tap the name when it comes up below.
Now all the books in the series (1-10) will appear – tap the one you would like to borrow.
When the book’s page appears – tap the button “Borrow for Free”.
That’s it!
It will download to your device.
(ps. Remember to return it when you’ve finished – go to “Content” in the “Manage your content & devices” section of your Amazon account. You can borrow one free book per month.)
(pps. Other detectives are available.)
It’s really simple...
Here’s how it works (with my Kindle Paperwhite)...
Switch on and make sure you have a WiFi connection.
Open the Kindle Store (tap on the shopping trolley icon).
Tap the “Search” box.
Type “Inspector Skelgill” and then tap the name when it comes up below.
Now all the books in the series (1-10) will appear – tap the one you would like to borrow.
When the book’s page appears – tap the button “Borrow for Free”.
That’s it!
It will download to your device.
(ps. Remember to return it when you’ve finished – go to “Content” in the “Manage your content & devices” section of your Amazon account. You can borrow one free book per month.)
(pps. Other detectives are available.)
August 4, 2017
Writer's Dog
They say you can’t write in a vacuum – but neither can you write when your other half is on the phone to her mother – or the kids are practising hockey in the hall – or with a dozen other distractions that drive you to seek solitude.
Dog to the rescue.
This most efficient machine for removing grated cheese from the kitchen floor is not only humankind’s best friend – but he (in my case, he) is also the writer’s best friend.
Yes, he’s my excuse to escape into the woods for a couple of hours – but there’s more – much more. There’s his exceptional ability to sniff out characters and events for my stories.
WITHOUT DOG. I notice I am ignored, or worse, treated with suspicion. I can tell what they’re thinking. Who’s the weirdo with the giant fishing umbrella? Is that a laptop in that rucksack – is he a cat burglar? A serial killer? (It’s a fair cop – at least, I might be thinking about one.)
WITH DOG. Suddenly everyone stops to talk. What is he, a Cockerpoo? – no, Australian Labradoodle – bit chunkier, you’ll notice – more ball-obsessed. Is he really called Noodles? – well, actually I call him Dude – would you shout Noodles? – and on it goes like this for a little while – perhaps that’s where it ends.
But next time – Hey, Noodles! How’s it going, man? You wouldn’t believe what happened to me last week. Murder, assault, car crash, pickpocketing, infidelity, divorce, fraud, shoplifting, inheritance... it all comes flooding out – and I hardly know the person!
When finally I can get a word in, I say – nice weather – dry – easy-clean day for the dog. They go: aye, so it is. See you later, Noodles.
Surreptitiously I reach for my notebook.
https://www.goodreads.com/photo/autho...
Dog to the rescue.
This most efficient machine for removing grated cheese from the kitchen floor is not only humankind’s best friend – but he (in my case, he) is also the writer’s best friend.
Yes, he’s my excuse to escape into the woods for a couple of hours – but there’s more – much more. There’s his exceptional ability to sniff out characters and events for my stories.
WITHOUT DOG. I notice I am ignored, or worse, treated with suspicion. I can tell what they’re thinking. Who’s the weirdo with the giant fishing umbrella? Is that a laptop in that rucksack – is he a cat burglar? A serial killer? (It’s a fair cop – at least, I might be thinking about one.)
WITH DOG. Suddenly everyone stops to talk. What is he, a Cockerpoo? – no, Australian Labradoodle – bit chunkier, you’ll notice – more ball-obsessed. Is he really called Noodles? – well, actually I call him Dude – would you shout Noodles? – and on it goes like this for a little while – perhaps that’s where it ends.
But next time – Hey, Noodles! How’s it going, man? You wouldn’t believe what happened to me last week. Murder, assault, car crash, pickpocketing, infidelity, divorce, fraud, shoplifting, inheritance... it all comes flooding out – and I hardly know the person!
When finally I can get a word in, I say – nice weather – dry – easy-clean day for the dog. They go: aye, so it is. See you later, Noodles.
Surreptitiously I reach for my notebook.
https://www.goodreads.com/photo/autho...
May 10, 2017
The Reviewer is Always Right
In Dale Carnegie’s famous treatise, ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People’ all you really need to know is contained in the title. Working in advertising, I soon learned that not a great deal of profit is made out of telling folk they’re wrong. It’s a maxim that applies in most walks of life, especially if you’re the seller.
Apart from at a domestic level, the main complaints I have to put up with – small by comparison – concern reviews of Inspector Skelgill. Acquaintances quite often ask if I get bad reviews – and I laugh and say, ‘Yes!’ – and then they ask am I upset and I repeat my answer. But there is a caveat – I probably couldn’t do without them.
Don’t get me wrong, good reviews are absolutely uplifting – a few generous words from a complete stranger make you feel like Winnie the Pooh with a full jar of honey stuck on your head. Good reviews provide the essential motivation to keep writing. But bad reviews provide the essential motivation to keep improving.
There is a long-running debate on the Goodreads author forum about whether authors should respond to reviewers. The accepted protocol is no – reviews are there for potential readers, not to start an argument with a belligerent author. I agree!
But readers are allowed to argue among themselves. Indeed today I noticed that a recent 1-star review has attracted a string of comments. The negative reviewer was berated for not buying or reading the book, but instead judging it by the ‘Look Inside’ function on Amazon. (As far as I could tell, none of the people who jumped to my defence were on my payroll.)
Actually the original criticism was that the book is written in the present tense. It is. So the reviewer was right. So too was the person who said, ‘How can you review a book without reading it?’ And the person that remarked, ‘I don’t like the present tense – thanks.’ (It goes on, dilly-ding, dilly-dong.)
The moral of the story?
Frustratingly, to paraphrase a popular misquote, ‘You can’t please all of the people all of the time’ – particularly when the complaint is something that you ‘just do’. I’m sure there were times when Jimi Hendrix was asked to play more slowly, or Joan Rivers not to swear, or John Updike to stop using metaphors. Even Rabbit, Run has 8% 1-star reviews.
Apart from at a domestic level, the main complaints I have to put up with – small by comparison – concern reviews of Inspector Skelgill. Acquaintances quite often ask if I get bad reviews – and I laugh and say, ‘Yes!’ – and then they ask am I upset and I repeat my answer. But there is a caveat – I probably couldn’t do without them.
Don’t get me wrong, good reviews are absolutely uplifting – a few generous words from a complete stranger make you feel like Winnie the Pooh with a full jar of honey stuck on your head. Good reviews provide the essential motivation to keep writing. But bad reviews provide the essential motivation to keep improving.
There is a long-running debate on the Goodreads author forum about whether authors should respond to reviewers. The accepted protocol is no – reviews are there for potential readers, not to start an argument with a belligerent author. I agree!
But readers are allowed to argue among themselves. Indeed today I noticed that a recent 1-star review has attracted a string of comments. The negative reviewer was berated for not buying or reading the book, but instead judging it by the ‘Look Inside’ function on Amazon. (As far as I could tell, none of the people who jumped to my defence were on my payroll.)
Actually the original criticism was that the book is written in the present tense. It is. So the reviewer was right. So too was the person who said, ‘How can you review a book without reading it?’ And the person that remarked, ‘I don’t like the present tense – thanks.’ (It goes on, dilly-ding, dilly-dong.)
The moral of the story?
Frustratingly, to paraphrase a popular misquote, ‘You can’t please all of the people all of the time’ – particularly when the complaint is something that you ‘just do’. I’m sure there were times when Jimi Hendrix was asked to play more slowly, or Joan Rivers not to swear, or John Updike to stop using metaphors. Even Rabbit, Run has 8% 1-star reviews.
