Loss of a Working Stiff

by Joyce

For those who haven't heard the news, longtime Working Stiff Wilfred Bereswill passed away suddenly on Palm Sunday. ("Passed away" seems inadequate when a death is so unexpected.) I first heard about it on Easter Sunday, when Jenna Bennett/Jennie Bentley posted a link to her blog on Twitter. To say I was shocked doesn't begin to cover it. It was all I could think about for most of the day.

The only time I met Will in person was at Bouchercon in Baltimore. When Annette and I ran into him, it was like a family reunion.

Joyce, Will, Annette

It's strange how someone you know mostly through blog posts can make such a lasting impression. It's a testament to his ability to tell a story that so many people feel like they lost a good friend.


Will posted often on China and Hawaii--two of his favorite places. He wrote about his work, his books, his every day life, and a very poignant post about losing his father at a young age to colon cancer.

Will's every day life got hectic and eventually he had to drop writing for Working Stiffs. His last post with us was on March 7, 2011. Read it. It was titled So Long, Farewell & Amen.

Amen, indeed.

So long, Will. We miss you.

Life With A Small Press

by Wilfred Bereswill

I want to talk about a subject that I’ve avoided like the plague; some of the disadvantages of contracting with a small press. Now I’ll say up front that my publisher, Hilliard and Harris is a small press and they’ve been good to me. I’ll just use a phrase that I use a lot to describe the situation, “It is what it is.”

What I want to chat about are things that I did not know about before signing my contract. Would they have stopped me from signing that contract? Probably not, considering how euphoric I was that I had been accepted for publication. For the record, I did chat with a few of the H&H authors that I knew and they had good things to say. In addition, I want to be clear that I’m not picking on H&H, because a number of small presses have the same or similar policies. So here are the issues you need to consider:

Returns. Or lack of returns really. This all starts with the way our book sales work. I’m speaking in generalities here so I’m sure there are exceptions. Most large book stores basically order books with the understanding that they are returnable. But there are a number of considerations with returns. First, there’s stripping. That’s the process of the bookstore ripping off the front cover and returning just the cover to avoid excess shipping charges. They throw away the coverless books. Believe it or not, that’s the most common type of return. If the shop does return the whole book, the condition of the book upon return may render it unsalable. Also, the cost to ship, unpack, restock, etc. makes it cheaper to just go the stripping route.

Because of the cost of returns, some small presses don’t allow returns through the distributors, like H&H. By the way, H&H does take returns if the books are ordered directly from the publisher, but the big chains don't want to order from anybody but the big distributors. I honestly can’t say that I blame them, but, if you don’t conform to the industry standard, you’re screwed. So what that means to the author is that you are now in a deep rut. Chains like Barnes & Noble won’t order your book. Books-A-Million won’t bring it in either. I found that by working with Borders stores individually, you can convince them to buy a few copies, but I’m telling you, it’s a lot of work to talk to each store manager and beg. Oh, by the way, I don’t patronize Barns and Noble anymore. I let my club card lapse and I won’t buy a book there either. Call it sour grapes, but a writers group I belonged to, The St. Louis Writers Guild has meetings at B&N stores twice a month. I’ve been a regular patron at a particular store for years. When I approached the manager about a signing, she insisted she couldn’t order my book due to corporat policy. Even when I was the featured speaker for the group, they wouldn't order in any books. I was forced to sell a few copies out of the trunk of my car to the members who wanted to buy it after the talk. You reap what you sow.

Indies will shy away from non-returnable books too. Several Indies in St. Louis have copies of A Reason For Dying, but for the BIG Indie in town I had to put books there on consignment. Meaning I had to buy the books and sign a contract. If they sell in six months, then they will reimburse my cost, not a penny more and no shipping.

So, that pretty much leaves internet sales, Amazon, B&N, BAM, Borders, and a lot of others have my book on their website, but not in their stores. Then you can find it on foreign sites like Booky.fi or even this AMAZON JP. I’m fairly positive my best sales are through Amazon.

And then there’s POD. Print on demand. Many people link POD with self publishing and vanity presses. It is NOT the same. In fact there was a discussion on Sisters in Crime Yahoo Group about the subject. A lot of people ask me what my print run is. That’s when I get this sheepish look on my face and say that my book is print on demand. Of course, the next statement is usually “OH, you’re self published.” That’s not true. POD is simply a technology that allows books to be printed quickly and delivered as needed. My books are printed by Lightning Source which I believe is affiliated with Ingram, the national distributor. I’ve never had any trouble getting books delivered. Ingram always keeps a enough in stock to supply the, albeit smallish, demand.

I’m telling you that the quality of my books, both paperback and hardback are top notch. No bad bindings, no bad covers, no errors besides what was my fault, never had a complaint.

So how does this affect you as an author?

Besides the common misconception of the association of POD with self publishing, if your publisher uses POD, you are not eligible to join Mystery Writers of America or International Thriller Writers as full members. You are ineligible for awards and programs those orgainzations offer. I believe it is incredibly unfair, but that’s the way it is. Rmember... It is what it is...

In my case, my small press did not send out ARCs (advance reader copies) for review. So, I was not able to get reviews printed in my book. I had to solicit and find authors to blurb me with only the MS Word copy of my manuscript. For me, it was uncomfortable enough asking several authors that I didn't particularly know that well to blurb my book. Add that I didn't have ARCs to send them, well, it didn't help the comfort factor. I owe the extraordinary author John Lutz my heart-felt thanks for helping a new author. John is an awesome writer and you should run out and buy one of his books. You won't regret it.

So to wrap this up, before you sign a contract with a small press, know what you’re getting into. There have been many instances of authors starting their careers with small presses and going on to sign with the big guys. There are instances where, despite self-publishing, authors have gone on to bigger and better things. Trust me, I know it’s tempting to sign that first offer, but take the time to understand the publisher and do what’s best for you and your aspirations as a writer.

Bits & Bobs

by Wilfred Bereswill

I intended to write an insightful blog today, but then life intervened and this is what I got done. A stream of consciousness on Sunday night. So, what happened to get in the way? Well, all my daughters are back home for one. My College daughter finisher her second year and came home Friday. My oldest daughter’s new boyfriend came up to St. Louis for the weekend (more on him later.) I coached my youngest daughter on parallel parking and driving for her driver’s license test. We had a get-together with our friends on Saturday night and I just finished grilling a fabulous dinner for the extended family.

First of all, last week one of the fine authors over at First Offenders, Lori Armstrong, raved about J. J. Abrams. Of course J.J. is the director of Lost as well as a number of other great series. Last weekend I saw the much anticipate (by me) Star Trek Movie. Taking an interesting approach, the movie centered on The Beginnings, with a young Kirk, Spock and crew. Knowing JJ Abrams interesting approach to things and the mystery of Lost, I wondered what he would do with it.

Of course it’s subjective, but Abrams hit a home run. A Barry Bonds bash out of the yard. And he didn’t need steroids to do it. Somehow he held true to the entire theme that is Star Trek. Witty. Funny. Groundbreaking. Let’s not forget, some of us witnessed the first interracial kiss on TV between Kirk and Uhura in "Plato's Stepchildren", which first aired on November 22, 1968.
I don’t want to give away anything, but, go see this one. If you know the slightest bit about the old series, you will find yourself on the edge of your seat waiting for the next young version of a crew member to be introduced.

These young actors must have spent countless hours watching the old series to get the mannerisms down pat. BUT, with all that, I have a bit of a special connection with the movie. Almost, anyway. Last year I went to Los Angeles on business with Anheuser-Busch. I spent a week at the brewery in Van Nuys and when I was talking to the Safety Manager there, a great guy by the name of Guy Stancil, he showed me a binder with the Star Trek font. As it turns out, many of the shots of the interior of the ship were filmed at the brewery. The shiny stainless steel fermentation tanks became the engine room. And a scene where young Scotty is beamed into a coolant line was filmed in the utilities building with the orange painted ammonia refrigerant lines. One scene I’m not entirely sure of was a scene when old Spock and Young Kirk enter a Star Base on an ice planet. They enter a double door walk through a long tiled hallway. I had a strange feeling of déjà vu. I think the scene was shot in the abandoned Bosari Cellars. It was the original fermentation area that featured open-top fermentation tubs.

And in a stroke of genius, they hit the "reset" button on the series by setting up an alternate reality which make it different and unique from the original series. You just have to see the movie to understand.

Anyway, see the movie. I give it two thumbs up.

This weekend I noticed some people have rhythm and some don’t. I was playing Rock Band with some of the guys I golf with and it was quite obvious that we are not all created equal in the rhythm department. I remember the scene at the start of Steve Martin’s, The Jerk.



Some people have it and others… Well, not so much.

On to the boyfriend. My oldest daughter, Kelly, the Speech Language Pathologist just started seeing a new guy. He made his second visit up from Carbondale, IL where he is in a doctorate program for behavioral therapy. My wife and other daughters say he’s cute. I noticed he’s incredibly talented. He plays both the guitar and the piano, and does so very well. He also sings very good. So far I can say he seems like a great guy.

On a side note, I also got back into the work in progress, A Reason For Terror. It’s been de-railed a bit for the new job and all the other things that have been going on. This weekend’s word count, 2,000. It’s a start and I’m up to 86,000 words overall. I’m giving myself 3 weeks to finish it and with the season finales almost done, I should be able to accomplish it.

So, what did this weekend hold for you? Anything fun?

Swine Flu H1N1

by Wilfred Bereswill

Since you can’t turn on the television or radio without hearing about the swine flu, I thought I’d blog a bit about the flu bug. As you may or may not know, A Reason For Dying, my first book is about a natural viral outbreak that’s mistaken for an act of terrorism. The sequel, A Reason For Terror is about the bird flu (H5N1).

So what is it about birds and pigs and flu that causes this connection? Well, birds and pigs are susceptible to human viruses. Also, flu strains tend to mutate in birds and pigs and then transfer to humans.

Another question to ask is why some strains of flu seem to be bad and some fizzle out with nary a cough and a sneeze. Flu strains constantly change. That’s why we can’t wipe them out like we have some other viruses. They are the smallest form of life and they are survivalist. Some strains just don’t do that much damage to the human anatomy and others don’t survive as long outside the body making them not as communicable. Many new flu strains seem to originate in Asia and one school of thought it is the way family farms are structured contribute to mutating flu strains.

Small farms in Asia are constrained for space. Chicken pens are suspended off the ground and the area beneath is used to raise pigs. The perfect environment for growing and culturing mutating flu strains. The birds (remember they are susceptible to human strains of flu) defecate and the pigs who live beneath them are exposed to the feces which can be contaminated with flu. The strain can mutate in the pigs and when they defecate, the farmers remove it and toss it in ponds which act as a nutrient for algae that carp (grass eating fish) eat.



However, ducks living in the ponds are then exposed to the viruses infected pig feces and the strain can mutate once again. Ducks are raised for food and during the processing, humans catch the flu and things go round and round.

It will be interesting to see how bad this particular strain winds up being and if all the hoopla is for naught.

The Blue Flu, The Spanish Lady, The Great Influenza… These were all names used for the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918. It had more casualties than World War I. It is thought that the flu actually started, not in Spain as the name implies, but in 1917 in Kansas. Camp Funston at Fort Reilly. There were many reported cases of flu in troops that were preparing for the war.

The flu, went across the ocean with our troops, probably mutated there where it killed millions of people and then came back across the ocean with our troops to Camp Devens near Boston Mass.



This flu, seemed to target young healthy people rather than the old and young. Meaning that the troops that had survived the horrors of the war, returned to find themselves dying by an enemy that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. In fact, it probably couldn’t be seen by any instrument in use at the time.

The flu ravaged the United States in 1919 and by the time the pandemic was over, a hundred million were dead.

Be careful out there, and don’t fool around with Mother Nature. I know I certainly need to since I have 2 days left this year if I’m sick. So, are you concerned about the flu? Or are you thinking all the hype is nothing to worry about?

Now to leave you with something happy. I found this little video and wanted to share.

Rainbows, Waterfalls, Whales, Lava & Broken Aircraft

At the risk of making all you readers of the Stiff jealous, I decided to share my well needed journey to the Hawaiian Islands and a few of the highlights we had along the way. Two weeks ago, while Jennie Bentley was taking liberties with embarrassing moments, I was enjoying life with the BW (Beautiful Wife.) Speaking of broken aircraft, things started out quickly. We arrived in Denver to find our flight to Kona delayed with a broken collision avoidance system. 5 hours later with a new module and CAS antenna, we were winging our way to paradise. The very next day, we boarded a Hughs helicopter with the doors off and chattering our way over the lava fields to see Kiluea erupting. In case you don't know, the Big Island is made of 3 volcanos, Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea and Kiluea, with the last one being the active volcano.


Linda and I with Pilot Joyce and Jack

Yes, having the doors off created a breezy trip and a little scary at first, but the scary stuff happened a little later. So, we found ourselves winging our way to the volcano with nothing between us and a thousand foot drop but a standard lap belt. Things were going pretty good. It was windy, cool and wild. We flew straight to the spot where Kiluea is pouring lava into the ocean with great fury. Steam boiled out of the ocean and we even got a glimpse of the RED lava.





Next we found out the hard way that you shouldn’t get in the way of Mother Nature. Jack found that out too. Who is Jack, you ask? Jack (pictured above) is a guy that built his dream home in a subdivision on the southern slope of Kiluea. We landed the helicopter in front of Jack's house and took a hike Jack.



Jack's house looks nice and peaceful, however, if you could pan back a bit, you'd see that this little oasis is surrounded by miles of lava. Some time ago, Kiluea threw the residents of Jack's subdivision a curve ball and lava started spewing from a new vent, sending countless tons of molten lava right through the subdivision, destroying all the homes except Jack's. As beautiful as it looks, Jack is cut off from the world; no utilities, no road and a 3 1/2 mile hike across the razor sharp lava fields to where he parks his car to go to town for supplies. His home has a small generator to power his television, a few lights and his satellite dish and small bottles of propane gas to cook with.

The end of the road for Jack

After spending 20 minutes on the ground with Jack, we hopped back into the Hugh's helicopter while Joyce revved it up. Just when the rotors started spinning, a buzzer sounded and Joyce wound it down. Three tries later, she announced that it was here first day in this chopper (something I really didn't need to know) and we were grounded with a broken helicopter. I got out and asked Jack for a pair of jumper cables and just as quick he replied that he had cables, but his car was 3 1/2 miles away. I asked him what was for dinner. As linda and I prepared ourselves for a long walk, Steve came to the rescue. Steve was another helicopter pilot with a working chopper and he took us on the rest of our tour. Steve showed us a few sky vents where the crust had broken and you could see molten lava flowing beneath.

The caldera of Kiluea. Madam Pele's home.

The Rift Zone

After a nice landing, Steve dropped us off and picked up the passengers he left at Jack's house for the rest of their trip. Linda and I headed for the end of the road. Lava recently covered Highway 130 45 minutes south of Hilo. When the trade winds shift to blow the VOG (hazardous volcanic atmosphere out to sea the viewing area opens and you can drive a mile or so across a makeshift one lane road laid over the lava flow to a parking area then hike a half mile to the viewing area where the lava flows into the sea. After the sun sets, the view is spectacular with 2000 degree lave violently clashing with the cold ocean spewing steam and glowing lava chunks a hundred feet in the air. Unfortunately, with my little camera, I couldn't get a decent picture.

That dark 3 hour drive on winding steep mist covered roads back to the Kohala Coast was a bit nervewracking, but we did make it back to the Hapuna Prince Resort where we planned another thing we had to do before leaving for Maui.

The Hapuna Prince

A few days later, we headed for the Kona Airport to find some grafitti, Hawaiian style.

Sometimes you wonder where traditions begin. Many traditions help to form who we are and others become memories of times gone by. Here on the Big Island of Hawaii, there are many traditions. Hawaiians are proud of their heritage and keep up with the traditions so as not to lose touch with who they are as a people. Of course there are Luaus’ and Hula, and then there’s Madam Pele.

I’m really not sure if you’d call it tradition or superstition, but of course you NEVER bring home lava. There are all kinds of stories about bad luck following those people whoo have dared to bring home a chunk of lava in their suitcases. There are many stories of people mailing the lava back to Volcano’s State Park to try to stem the tide of bad luck.

But this blog is about a tradition that must have been started by tourists visiting the island and it’s been going on for years. For miles (roughly 15 miles) along the stretch of Highway 19 near the Kona Airport, there is what can only be described as Hawaiian Graffiti. I can only imagine that once, long ago, some savvy traveler noticed the slate of midnight black lava that covers the landscape. No doubt they had visions of chalkboards from their school days. They probably saw the plentiful water worn white coral that splashes up with the waves on some of the black sand beaches and got an idea. An idea to memorialize their visit to the Big Island and leave their mark. You will find all kinds of messages; love, death, words of wit and just plain names and initials. There are many memorials built to loved ones who have passed.

Of course there are no rules other than common sense, but etiquette says not to disturb the messages others have taken the time and effort to build. And I’ll tell you, it is a chore to bring coral from the sea in enough quantity and then either stoop and build or try to sit gently on the razor sharp lava to complete your works of art.

Way back in 2000, nine years ago, I happened to be on a business trip with two environmental consultants and good friends, Simon Wakin and Pam Hesterberg. We had business on every island and I didn’t have my wife Linda with me. SO, being the romantic type, I noticed all these messages and thought how cool it would be to leave a message for Linda and take a picture. So, with my friends at my side (they were off the official payroll as consultants and you can only ask friends to help you toil away like that), we found a lot of loose coral and a nice clean slate on the Pa Hoi Hoi (smooth lava) and went to work. I took pictures and my wife loved me. In the biblical sense.

Two years later, Linda and I returned and hunted for her memorial. With a relatively fresh memory it wasn’t hard to find though we were rather shocked to see it intact after two years. Okay, so here it is 2009; nine years after it was built and seven year after the last time I saw it. Memories were dim of location, but we had to find out. Could this delicate message have withstood seven years of wind, rain and tourism?

A few days ago, Linda and I left the Hapuna Prince Resort and headed south on Highway 19. I called my friends Simon and Pam hoping they could refresh my memory of where we had built it. There are few landmarks to use as reference as Simon reminded me. Pam only knew it was near the airport. SO we drove, as slowly as I could considering traffic. With the speed limit of 55 MPH, those messages are just blurs. My eyes were occupied with the road and my wife’s eyes are not as good as they were. For near fifteen miles we searched and then, some visual stimulus hit me. I slowed the car and made the statement, “It’s right in here. I’m sure of it.”



Well, the first pass by we missed it, so I turned around and went back, this time parking on the side of the road and the half mile stretch of smooth lava. It took about ten minutes and I saw it. The “L” was a little disheveled and the “A” had fallen asunder, but there it was. Linda’s Big Island memorial. We took a half hour for some well needed maintenance and viola, my beautiful wife’s memorial is ready for another ten years or more.



We took another thirty minutes to work on another project. No, we didn’t build a memorial to our children, Kelly, Kristen and Kaitlin. We worked on a tribute to the hard work I’ve been doing the past four years. You’ll have to see it below.





A few days later, the next surprise came along. We went to the Kona Airport for our flight on Pacific Wings to Maui. Now I knew I booked a small plane, but I wasn't prepared for just how small. We got dropped off at the "Air Tours" section of the airport where we sat outside with our luggage until a small plane sputtered up. The pilot jumped out, started weighing us and our luggage. Then told us to drag the luggage at the chain link fince gate where we waited for the pilot to punch in the code to let us in. No TSA, no metal detectors, no xray. The plane was a Cessana Caravan. Reminded me of a Dodge Caravan. Kind of road like one too, especially in the unexpected 40 knot winds.



I have to tell you, when we rounded Haleakala on Maui, we hit the winds and the plane dropped 30 to 50 feet in a micro-second. I watched as the pilot wrestled the yoke as the wings diped and the plane bounced all the way to the runway. Quite the experience.

Instead of boring you with the details of Maui, I'll leave you with pictures of whales, dolphins, snorkling, sunsets, rainbows and two happy people.

Scenes from our 3 whale watching excursions.

Spinner Dolphins off the coast of Lanai, from above in our 28 foot raft and below with my cheap underwater disposable camera.





Some of my snorkling pictures. The turtle was off the coast of the Big Island.









Rainbows, sunsets, the gorgeous wife and I and me on top of Haleakula Volcano on Maui. BTW, the ride up is one of the greatest elevation changes you can take an automobile on. It goes from 0 feet to over 10,000 feet. Pikes peak for example goes from 8,000 feet to 12,500 or so. Only about 5,ooo foot change.




And I'll leave you with a little self promotion. This trip really was "A REASON FOR LIVING."

A Reason for Dying... of Embarrassment!

by Jennie Bentley

As promised, I'm back. Our own Wilfred Bereswill is in Hawaii with his beautiful wife, enjoying what is undoubtedly a well-deserved vacation. And while he's gone, he's appointed me to fill in. Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Little does he know what I have in store for you!

Without further ado, let's get down to brass tacks.

Some of you may remember this, from Will's post about himself last year sometime:

"It's a long story, but I was captured on a cruise by a group of women on a scavenger hunt. They told me it would only take a minute. An hour later, I was in a short sundress that wouldn't zip up the back with makeup and a bow in my hair. The other four dudes looked exactly like Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire, which is why I won the beauty contest."

He swore that there existed no video footage of the event, but guess what...?

That's right: with Will out of the way, I would like to take the opportunity to show y'all that never-to-be forgotten performance. Here it is, in all its glory. Or maybe that should be, here's Will, in all his glory...





So there you have it. Here's the link - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7q4SJ5rG5s - in case you'd like to bookmark it and watch it again, and again, and again.

And I happen to think Will deserves a little something for that. So why don't y'all go here and order a copy of Will's book, A Reason for Dying, to pay the man back for that incredible show.

Don't you think it's the least you can do?

Spring Break

by
Wilfred Bereswill

Something that has never worked out in our household is spring break. Our school district never could get their act together, so the high school, middle school and grade school never seemed to work together. So we never took a spring break vacation as a family and this year is no different.

I remember when my oldest daughter was a senior in high school. My wife and I were much younger and not as smart and we suckered into letting her go to Cancun for spring break. She survived and I’d rather not know what went on, but soon after that year, many of the news stations broke stories about infamous Mexican spring breaks and that was it. Daughter number 2 was instantly banned. But the stage had been set and somehow we OWED her an equivalent vacation, so my wife served as one chaperone on a spring break cruise. Dad got to stay at home.

The plans have not been set for daughter number 3 since her big trip is a year away. However, this year it’s my turn. You see, last summer came and went quickly and while we took a short trip to Gulf Shores, the week was anything but relaxing with all the takeover rumors of the company I worked for. I never had that relaxing break. Yes, I spent two months at home over the holidays and into February, but it was far from relaxing. So, as a pre-condition of employment, I arranged a little getaway for me and my beautiful wife. A little alone time. My daughters have all expressed their opinions on the fairness of our trip, but, I’m having a hard time feeling sorry for them. You see, my youngest daughter is on spring break this week, my middle daughter next week, my oldest is working a full time job, so that’s my excuse. Like always, spring break timing is working against us. Actually, I think it’s working for us.

On March 28th, my wife and I will be on Hawaii, The Big Island. We spend three nights in one of the most fabulous resorts I’ve ever been to, the Hapuna Prince. I just arranged a doors-off helicopter tour over Kilauea, the active volcano. We then plan to drive to the end of the road and hike out about a mile to see the lava glowing at twilight as it enters the sea. We really don’t have any other plans there, except maybe a casual drive in the convertible that I have reserved to South Point, the southmost point of land in the United States.



April 1st we take a small twin engine Cesena to Maui where we have an oceanfront condo for a week. There will be plenty of whale watching, snorkeling, waterfalls, and a special trip on a rigid inflatable Zodiac type boat to the island of Lanai to swim with wild spinner dolphins and sea turtles. I’m sure there will be a trip along the road to Hana in the convertible I have reserved there also, and a trip up Haleakala. We may even venture out to Little Beach in Makena. For those of you who don’t know, Little Beach is the unofficial clothing optional beach on Maui. It is quite a spectacular beach in it’s own right.
Do I feel guilty leaving my daughters behind while I go off to bask in the Hawaiian sun?

Not a bit.

So, I’m looking for ideas of things to do on the Big Island and Maui. Any suggestions?

By the way. On April 6th, I have arranged a special guest blogger to fill in for me. She tells me she has a real treat in store for everyone. I’ll try to check in with my new little Asus 10 inch Netbook, if I can get an internet signal while I sit on the beach drinking Margaritas’.

ALOHA and MAHALO!

First Review

By Wilfred Bereswill

Okay, so your friends and family have read it. They heap on the praise and it makes you smile; gives you that briefest of moments that gets you back behind the keyboard. The little things that keep you going on your work in progress. Those little praises don’t really make your work any better, but most of us need our ego stroked now and then, so in that aspect they serve their purpose.

Then there are those honest critiques. Either from critique groups, a professional colleague, a freelance editor, or wherever. They can sting. Hurt the pride. Bruise the ego. But, they can make that work better, more polished. A good critique can make your work sing. It takes a thick hide to listen to those negatives, but once you gain the right perspective, you realize those voices, negative as they might sound are on your side. They are the brave ones, willing to tell you what they know will hurt to make you better. Kudos to all those that have stepped up and put their selves out there to make me a better writer.

But all this time, somewhere deep down we have doubts. After all, literature IS extremely suggestive. No doubt, whatever you write, someone will love it and someone will hate it. But we all fear those negative comments. As if somehow they are an attack on us; on our souls. Who we are. We have a hard time separating ourselves from our writing.

So how does all this tie in? Here is the story. The small press that published me skips the Advance Reader Copy (ARC) stage of the publishing process. They go from proofs to print. So, what does that mean? It means that advance copies are not sent out to various publications for reviews prior to publishing. Many publications will not review a book after it is released.

Soon after it’s release in July, I had my publicist send a few copies out for review, with no luck. Then about a month ago, the Book Editor of the Post put up a blog, titled “Why don’t we review every local author’s book?.” In the blog, she went on to explain how publications across the nation are cutting out their book sections and how the Post has precious few inches for reviews. Competition for those inches is huge. Much of the space has to be dedicated to the big names.

I added a short comment to the blog thanking her for the explanation. A few minutes later, I received an e-mail from her thanking me for my comment and a request for another copy of my book for a possible review. She explained that she must have misplaced the earlier copy. So, a quick trip down to the Post Dispatch building downtown and another $13 investment and I was in wait mode once again.

This past Saturday morning I received a Google Alert. There was a hit on my book title’s search. I glanced at the link. It came from STLToday.com (the St. Louis Post Dispatch’s website.) The very brief link description said “REVIEW.” My throat constricted, a huge lump formed in my stomach and that undeniable feeling of my breakfast revisiting came over me. One part of my brain willed my finger to click the link (no doubt the masochist in me), while another part (my ego) screamed, “NO!”

Seems silly, right? After all, I’ve received considerable fan mail and from people I don’t know complimenting the book. But this is a book reviewer. An expert. The holy grail of critiques.

Well, on Sunday, right next to a review of Clive Cussler’s new book, Arctic Drift, there it was. “Local Writer Holds Own With Fine Thriller.” The lead sentence, With “A Reason For Dying,” St. Louis’ own Wilfred Bereswill has written a thriller with a dandy plot and fine characters.” The link above takes you to the on-line version. The review is already clipped and ready to go into the scrapbook. And I’m having a nice ending to the long Thanksgiving Holiday.

Comfort Killing

by Wilfred Bereswill

I’ve been in a sour mood lately. Beside the cold that suddenly crashed down on me last night, there’s the drama of my day job that has been going on for over six months now. Some or all of you know I work as an Environmental Engineer for Anheuser-Busch. Opps, I mean A-B Inbev. The deal is done. I now work for the biggest brewer and the 3rd largest consumer products group in the world. Problem is, I don’t know how long I’ll be working for them. The axe is poised and ready to lop off a large number of employees. The have to eliminate 1 ½ Billion dollars in operating cost over the next three years to pay back some of their debt. YES, that’s BILLION with a “B.” So it may not be a very happy holiday season. Not only that, but every day we hear another rumor and a different date for D-Day. In fact, as I write this, my wife returned from her bible study and informed me that she heard that 800 people will be laid off tomorrow.

I’ll survive. I’m not writing this in a plea for sympathy. The bigger problem is that this six month drama has pretty much sucked the creativity right out of me. I sit in front of the keyboard trying to finish a story I started over a year ago and my mind wanders to how I’m going to make a living and keep my family going. As much as I’d like to dream about it, making a living off my writing is not realistic right now. It won’t pay the mortgage, the car payments, college tuition, the utilities... Well, you get the picture.

So, two nights ago I decided to kill a bunch of people.

Relax. I finally finished a scene I’ve been trying to write for a while. I told myself to just do it. In two nights I wrote 5,000 words. I would have continued tonight, but I had a talk to give to the St. Louis Writers Guild.

The body count isn’t in just yet, but a number of FBI agents and a bunch of bad guys are now statistics. The scene starts with my antagonist trying to sell a deadly virus to a terrorist cell. Bad guys doing business with bad guys. I figured not a lot of trusting goes on there. Would you trust a bunch of terrorists to hand over 5 million dollars for a package that could easily be faked with no real way of verifying the authenticity? I wouldn’t. So it took a lot of thought to figure out how to make this work.

Throwing in the FBI complicates matters even more. You’ll all have to wait to read the finished product, but I’m pretty darned happy with the way this is working out. The next scene will find my Protagonist, FBI Agent Laura Daniels captured by my antagonist and her savior turns out to be a person she’d never expect. Plus a main character may be taking his last breath.

So, I found that killing people can bring me out of a funk. What do you do when you find yourself mired in depressing thoughts?

The Devil Is In The Details

by Wilfred Bereswill

Do details in a novel bog you down or do they bring your writing alive? Obviously that’s a question of taste, I think. Some people love it, some... not so much. I had the pleasure of attending my second conference as an author a few weeks ago. The conference? Magna Cum Murder sponsored by Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. First off, kudos to Kathryn Kennison, one of the loveliest ladies I’ve met and a wonderful organizer. Also kudos to Jim Huang, owner of The Mystery Company in Carmel, Indiana and program organizer. I am confident that next year’s Bouchercon is in good hands with Jim at the helm.

So, I had a lot of time to sit and discuss issues with readers and writers and one of the things we discussed was the level of detail in novels. On the first day of the conference, a group of ladies invited me to it with them and discuss a few things. One of them was detail. And while some liked details and others didn’t, one thing was certain; if you’re going to put in details, get it right.

I prefer some level of detail in my work. I think that details, if inserted correctly bring familiarization to a piece. I’m also not against a certain amount of brand names if done to further the plot or define a character. I believe that the line; “He swung the door to the battered Pinto open, kicking the empty bottle of Wild Turkey as stumbled out to the pavement.” As opposed to the line: “He sat the snifter of Hennessey’s on the bar and called for the valet to retrieve his Porsche.” These are two very different men and using details, we can give you a sense of them in a few words, without slowing down the plot. But the details have to be right.

No one should confuse this:


For this, even in it's best days.

Case in point. I’m perfectly fine with the writer who uses the line, “She pulled out a gun and shot him.” However, if you add detail, get it right. “She pulled out her Glock, flicked the safety off and shot him.” A greater level of detail, but WRONG! I’m throwing this book against the wall.

So, I’m at the Magna conference, listening to a wonderful speaker. She reads an excerpt of her work and everyone is enraptured. Her words flow beautifully... and shades of Emeril, BAM! She loses me and I completely stop listening. What brought me right out of that happy journey that the author was transporting me through? A detail I knew was wrong. She talked about a situation where her young blind brother, a child, climbs into an old 1949 Ford. As he explores the car with his touch, he runs his hands along the steering column and finds the keys in the ignition. WHAT?

My dad had a 1951 Ford Crown Victoria.

The ignition switch was in the dashboard, not on the steering column. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was on the left-hand side of the steering wheel. Okay, maybe there was a ’49 Ford with a steering column/ignition interlock system, but I don’t think so. Regardless, she threw in a detail that pulled me right out of that wonderful story. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter where the ignition was, but in this case, she lost a reader/listener. Judging by the crowd, I was the only one that caught it, but the story was an inspirational one and the details didn’t matter like they do in a mystery, where people are looking hard at the details to solve the crime.

So, how about you? Are you a detail hound like me? Have you ever read a book where a detail took you out of the story?