IF YOU SHOULD KNOW ME, OR SHOULD YOU...
As in “Should you happen to know me,” not “Should you know me.” A statement. Not a question. Of course you should know me. I’m a genuinely nice person.
But in the end, that has nothing to do with whether or not you’ll want to spend any time or money on reading my books.
First... There ARE reviews of BUT TELL IT SLANT... You can find them on AMAZON. However, you will also find them under YOU BELONG TO ME by DEREN BECK, my old pen name, right here on good old GOODREADS. They were written by readers of that original (and second) edition way back when.
Even though SLANT has been significantly revised, the writing (as the writer!) is essentially the same...
What is more important, my life or my work?
A very small bit about me, then...
I was born and grew up in New York City, was schooled there (initially) but, for many reasons, felt drawn elsewhere. So, elsewhere I went...
I traveled across America and today I live in its heartland, more or less. Its heart is everywhere, don’t you think?
If I were Frank Gould, the main character in my detective series--and I am not Frank Gould, nor was I ever--and if Melissa (more or less the closest he has to a current “girlfriend”) were to be looking over my shoulder right now, she would tell me to place the second part of this “blog” first.
And, since I have a propensity to “pretend” when I write, let’s just pretend...
So I shall, for Frank always listens to Melissa when it comes to his writing. She being the better, award-winning writer...
When I publish a book and the good people on Goodreads, say, come back with their reviews and honor me with 4.7 stars (as they did way back when) it tells me something. I am never certain what, precisely, except that they are pleased with it.
Why? I don’t know. What are they pleased about? I don’t know.
Sometimes they say this or that and I get clues. That’s nice. But still I never know quite enough.
And that’s okay.
If I knew too much it might tend to tell me things I wouldn’t want to know, things that might cause me to write in a way I don’t normally. Get the picture?
From my personal point of view, people today read even less as a percentage than they ever have before in modern times. Of those who do read, readers tend to want to read what they are used to. They will wait months for the next Donna Leon or Elizabeth George or Tony Hillerman or Agatha Christie (good luck with that) rather than searching out something new or different.
For that tiny handful willing to take a chance on something new or different...
I’m am not what they are looking for.
Why? Because I break every mold.
No agent will touch my work because they cannot see a viable market for it. Not because I can’t write or the people who read my work don’t like it (obviously...4.7 stars?) but because it cannot be labelled.
No label, no market.
You could not find my market with the finest sequence of Galilean lenses.
I write in such a way, a non-marketable fashion purposely. And most people, particularly agents, cannot abide it for that reason.
In the same fashion that most people do not like jalapeno ice cream or chocolate in their kale salad.
Because I mix genres so freely that people literally (no pun) get confused. One finds the essence of Mickey Spillane and J.D. Salinger on the same page at times (and those were not my words; they come from a substantial critic...and a foreign one at that!). Comedy and tragedy bounce up against each other rather freely. Mystery and romance, thriller and philosophical treatise.
Oh! And the comedy!
If you take a look at my reviews, you will notice a kind of trend.
I spent some time (not enough, clearly) trying to understand marketing when I first published these little darlings. Now I have a friend in marketing who tells me I have to find my “niche.” I guess it’s kind of like looking for your bliss.
Well, my niche, as best as it can be found or defined, is pretty obvious and making itself known in those reviews.
The people who have read, or read partially, or claim to have read my books and not liked them, all say basically the same thing. “What? I don’t get this at all.”
That’s fair.
While others, when detailed, also all say the same thing: "It took me time to make it out, but once I did... POW!!! What a payoff!"
I feel genuinely sorry for (most) agents who have had to read my manuscripts. They must wonder if I am some Latin American writer, some Ricardo Piglia, a version of Roberto Bolano or Roberto Arlt.
BUT I’M NOT, HONEST. I’m from BROOKLYN. Originally...
I only pretend to be something other than I’m not at times... Like when I write. Or when I’m in the shower, which is, often, when I do some of my best writing. Like, I wrote this when I was in the shower... Not that this was my best...
But in the end, that has nothing to do with whether or not you’ll want to spend any time or money on reading my books.
First... There ARE reviews of BUT TELL IT SLANT... You can find them on AMAZON. However, you will also find them under YOU BELONG TO ME by DEREN BECK, my old pen name, right here on good old GOODREADS. They were written by readers of that original (and second) edition way back when.
Even though SLANT has been significantly revised, the writing (as the writer!) is essentially the same...
What is more important, my life or my work?
A very small bit about me, then...
I was born and grew up in New York City, was schooled there (initially) but, for many reasons, felt drawn elsewhere. So, elsewhere I went...
I traveled across America and today I live in its heartland, more or less. Its heart is everywhere, don’t you think?
If I were Frank Gould, the main character in my detective series--and I am not Frank Gould, nor was I ever--and if Melissa (more or less the closest he has to a current “girlfriend”) were to be looking over my shoulder right now, she would tell me to place the second part of this “blog” first.
And, since I have a propensity to “pretend” when I write, let’s just pretend...
So I shall, for Frank always listens to Melissa when it comes to his writing. She being the better, award-winning writer...
When I publish a book and the good people on Goodreads, say, come back with their reviews and honor me with 4.7 stars (as they did way back when) it tells me something. I am never certain what, precisely, except that they are pleased with it.
Why? I don’t know. What are they pleased about? I don’t know.
Sometimes they say this or that and I get clues. That’s nice. But still I never know quite enough.
And that’s okay.
If I knew too much it might tend to tell me things I wouldn’t want to know, things that might cause me to write in a way I don’t normally. Get the picture?
From my personal point of view, people today read even less as a percentage than they ever have before in modern times. Of those who do read, readers tend to want to read what they are used to. They will wait months for the next Donna Leon or Elizabeth George or Tony Hillerman or Agatha Christie (good luck with that) rather than searching out something new or different.
For that tiny handful willing to take a chance on something new or different...
I’m am not what they are looking for.
Why? Because I break every mold.
No agent will touch my work because they cannot see a viable market for it. Not because I can’t write or the people who read my work don’t like it (obviously...4.7 stars?) but because it cannot be labelled.
No label, no market.
You could not find my market with the finest sequence of Galilean lenses.
I write in such a way, a non-marketable fashion purposely. And most people, particularly agents, cannot abide it for that reason.
In the same fashion that most people do not like jalapeno ice cream or chocolate in their kale salad.
Because I mix genres so freely that people literally (no pun) get confused. One finds the essence of Mickey Spillane and J.D. Salinger on the same page at times (and those were not my words; they come from a substantial critic...and a foreign one at that!). Comedy and tragedy bounce up against each other rather freely. Mystery and romance, thriller and philosophical treatise.
Oh! And the comedy!
If you take a look at my reviews, you will notice a kind of trend.
I spent some time (not enough, clearly) trying to understand marketing when I first published these little darlings. Now I have a friend in marketing who tells me I have to find my “niche.” I guess it’s kind of like looking for your bliss.
Well, my niche, as best as it can be found or defined, is pretty obvious and making itself known in those reviews.
The people who have read, or read partially, or claim to have read my books and not liked them, all say basically the same thing. “What? I don’t get this at all.”
That’s fair.
While others, when detailed, also all say the same thing: "It took me time to make it out, but once I did... POW!!! What a payoff!"
I feel genuinely sorry for (most) agents who have had to read my manuscripts. They must wonder if I am some Latin American writer, some Ricardo Piglia, a version of Roberto Bolano or Roberto Arlt.
BUT I’M NOT, HONEST. I’m from BROOKLYN. Originally...
I only pretend to be something other than I’m not at times... Like when I write. Or when I’m in the shower, which is, often, when I do some of my best writing. Like, I wrote this when I was in the shower... Not that this was my best...
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