Lori Devoti, accomplished romance author, took time from her busy schedule to talk to me. You’ll find the interview at Radio Free Bliss. Lori talks about how she crafts the dreaded synopsis, what happened with her first manuscript, the importance of being a versatile writer, branding, and Madison, Wisconsin. We cover a lot of ground in a surprisingly short time. Be sure to subscribe if you don’t want to miss out on any future interviews … and there are some doozies coming along!

In other news, Chapter Seventeen of War Games is now up. It’s the end-game. Cheloi has sent Garza away for her own safety and must now decide what to do with Rumis. Leave him on Menon or take him with her? And will Koul finally get the opportunity he’s always wanted to kill his commanding officer? Things really start falling apart in this chapter, so you won’t want to miss any of the action.

FAVOURITE QUOTES

“Rumis, contact Black sector. Ask them what the f–k they think they’re doing.”

“I wouldn’t want to begrudge Koul his moment of glory at the centre of operations,” she finally told him.
“Then don’t begrudge me mine either, Colonel. If I have served you well these past years, then please allow me that moment too.”

“Koul, I can explain,” she gasped, as his hands grabbed her collar and started to twist it.
But she knew she couldn’t talk herself out of this one. Koul was going to kill her and, this time, he was going to do it himself.

She met his cloudy brown gaze as openly as she could. “Good will come of this, Rumis,” she told him. “Believe me.”

I know I don’t usually blog on a Tuesday, but I just read an interview with veteran agent, Molly Friedrich, and was very impressed by her and her attitude. What a shame she doesn’t rep s-f romance! Her perspective is straightforward and honest and, as a result, witty and charming, and she dishes great advice to would-be authors. For example, on voice:

First of all, is there anybody out there who doesn’t know that the easiest thing to sell is plot? But the thing that everybody wants is an original voice. And the thing that’s kind of stuck in the middle is character … Now, what is an original voice? Well, think of it like this: Go to Bonfire of the Vanities and close your eyes and pick a page and have someone read you two paragraphs. If you can’t identify those paragraphs as the rhythms and cadences that belong to Tom Wolfe, you’re finished. I’m convinced that eight times out of ten, with Melissa Bank, you could do the same thing.

On what you should have done when you begin shopping for an agent:

First of all, I don’t think an author should approach an agent before they have a manuscript … If I met every person who wanted to just have a chat before they sent their book, I’d go out of business.

Some great potential questions to ask a prospective agent:

You are fully within your rights to ask an agent whom else he represents. You are also within your rights to ask an agent to tell you about a couple of authors whose books he’s sold recently. You can’t live on your laurels and sit around bragging about your top five best-known clients. “What have you sold recently, and how’d it go?” And maybe ask, “What did you love that you weren’t able to sell?” Everyone thinks I sell everything I touch. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There’s loads of stuff I take on and don’t sell. It’s extremely painful. So I think it’s fair to talk about these things. I think you want to see what kind of a match you are. Can you talk with this agent frankly? Do you feel comfortable?

And (sigh) the fiction market:

Fiction is being published less and less. The stakes are higher. All editors say the same thing to me. They say, “I’ve got money to spend. I’d really love to do business with you. I’d love to buy a book from you.” That’s code. What they mean is they’d love to buy a book, for which they can possibly overpay, that is big in obvious and immediate ways. And most books are not big in obvious and immediate ways. They simply aren’t. Something has to change.

I have sold books for many millions of dollars and I have sold books for two thousand dollars and pretty much everything in between. I have experienced the fantastical joys of selling books for a whole lot of money. It is a joyous moment. But it isn’t necessarily the best thing in the world. It isn’t. Perhaps it’s blasphemous for me to say that. But if you sell a first novel for a million dollars, you are putting so much pressure on that book to perform at a certain moment, in a certain season, at a certain level. And most books don’t perform immediately. Something, I think, has to give.

That’s not to say I agree with everything she says. For example:

If they have a book and they are sending it out, they should always say in the letter if they are doing multiple submissions. That is common courtesy. I would also say that I want to know the circumstances under which I am reading something. Have you sent this to ninety-five other people? Have you sent this to one other person? Do I have this exclusively? Because if I push aside my own reading, which is the tyranny of all our lives, in order to be fast, at least tell me what I need to do. The other thing is that the author should agree—if the author is playing consumer here and sending it to five agents who want to read it—that he’s not going to make a decision until he has heard from all five people. You should respect an agent’s time. Do we get paid for our time? No. Respect a busy agent’s time. The thing I want to kill someone for is when I read something over the weekend and I’m about to pick up the phone to tell them it’s the most wonderful book since War and Peace, and they say, “Oh, sorry, I’ve signed on with Joe Blow who called on Sunday morning.” No. No, no, no, no, no. That is really wrong. Be fair. If you are going to put us on the spot, give us all a fair chance.

Of course, the situation she relates is tragic. And if I ever hypothetically signed with an agent, I think it would be common courtesy to inform all the other agents to whom I’ve sent queries/partials/fulls about the change in that manuscript’s status. To me, that’s just good manners.

However, having said that, I’m not about to blurt out in a query to Agent Sarah Schmooze that she’s one of 489 agents I’m querying. Or that I’ve received 203 rejections so far and she’s the 204th one on my list. Lord knows there are flimsy enough reasons for agents to reject queries (they get so many of the damn things), without me giving them a loaded rifle to shoot down mine.

But that’s a minor quibble I think. For the full interview (and do take your time with this; even if she wasn’t an agent, Molly Friedrich would be a terribly interesting person to read about) go here.

There have been a few instances of censorship and inappropriate behaviour in the publishing world recently. The instance of an anti-Obama cartoon, following claims of censorship from other cartoonists, in The New Yorker magazine. Then the rejection letter and William Sanders’ reference to “sheet heads” with regards to a Helix submission. (Spontaneous Derivation has a tight and lucid summary of the whole thing.) And the usual goings on in Romancelandia regarding reviews, stalking, contracting under false names, and so on.

While talking about all this, J commented that perhaps we tend to forget that writers are just ordinary people. That just because they (I) have stuff published doesn’t mean they’re (I’m) any more educated, or broad-minded, than anybody else.

He’s right, but — to me — that just means that people involved in something like the publishing world have to be extra careful. I consider editors, for example, to be gatekeepers. They decide what’s appropriate for public consumption and what’s not. And, in such a position, where their decisions are already rife with subjectivity (and necessarily so … I’m not quibbling with that aspect of the biz), it’s still important to try to be as impartial as possible, whether we’re talking about political cartoons or the greenhouse effect.

By the same token, I think of authors as “influencers”. Yes, I know we’re writing fiction, and it’s entertainment when all’s said and done, but I sincerely believe that, where my work is being read by people outside my immediate circle of friends, I have a responsibility to think about what I present and how I present it. After all, it’s not as though a reader in Bukina Faso cared about my character, Jo Bloggs, before s/he started reading my story. But part of what I do as a writer means that I attempt to cajole, or seduce, that reader into caring about Jo. I am, in effect, influencing the reader’s thoughts to look upon Jo either favourably or unfavourably or — my preferred option — some mix of the two. So, yes, I really do believe that authors influence people, and a responsibility like that is not one that — I think — should be taken lightly.

It’s why, for example, I’ve sworn off virgin heroines since The Commander’s Slave. (And you can’t believe how frustrating that is, when TCS is my best-selling book evah.) Upon reflection, I think that the sub-text of a virginal, but otherwise accomplished kick-ass, heroine is one I’m not comfortable with, and I doubt I’ll be visiting that trope again in the classic sense. That’s a personal choice of mine, and I don’t expect everyone else to agree with me but, at the same time, I do expect every writer to at least think about the ramifications of the character/plot/setting choices before s/he puts fingers to keyboard.

Or do you think that’s a bit harsh/unrealistic?

Cheloi says good-bye to Garza.

FAVOURITE QUOTES

If there was only one moment from her life she could live over and over, Cheloi thought, this would be it, and she poured every drop of love, longing and regret into that embrace.

“This is preposterous!” Koul exclaimed.
Yes it was. Even Cheloi could see that. But it was her preposterous, so that made it all right.

Rumis’ eyes darkened with sympathy and Cheloi could have happily killed herself in that moment for being able to lie so well, so consummately, to the person she valued above all else.

To the War Games page!

Blatantly, overtly, unashamedly political. Oh, and there’s something about writing in it too.

The United States hasn’t liked Somalia for a long time. It’s been personal (which, of course, is exactly how it should be between sovereign nations, right?) since the dead American soldier episode in Mogadishu, and that interlude with the bunch of US Rangers cornered in a house for hours, until they were finally rescued by — hello! — Malaysians! Would it really have been that much effort for Hollywood to get it right in Black Hawk Down?

But onto the real subject of this blog, which is the recent Esquire article written by US embedded journalist, Thomas Barnett, about his time in the Horn of Africa (Ethiopia, Somalia, Dijibouti) with the newly-born, US brainchild, “African Command”. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to see some really strange journalism coming out of the world’s hotspots. I’m used to straightforward interviews, historical snapshots, callouts of the major players, things like that. However, what I’m starting to get is more like this:

Camp Lemonier, home to CJTF-Horn of Africa, is one nasty, hot, and oh-so-stanky chunk of rock adjoining the Red Sea …

Stanky? What’s “stanky”? Stinky? Skanky? A hip mash-up of both? Or

Africa Command promises to be everything Central Command has failed to become … It will “reduce the future battlespace” … It’ll be Iraq done right.

Oh, save me! Or this

The transitional Somali government … is faltering, and in scenes reminiscent of America’s last misadventures in Mog, both Ethiopian troops and African Union peacekeepers are taking fire from 360 degrees’ worth of pissed-off Somali clans … Osama bin Laden himself couldn’t have written a better ending.

He’s big with the terms, is our Tom. “Mog”, which must be the embedded hipster’s term for “Mogadishu”. (I might call “Washington DC” “Wash Dic” from now on; you know, just to get into the spirit of things.) “Future battlespace”. “Kinetics” instead of the passe “killing”. “Human intelligence”. “Downrange”. “Spycraft”. It goes on. And on. And on.

Sitting atop the building in the warm night air, we are serenaded from three sides in a mash-up only Tom Friedman could love. The Coptic priest is haranguing his parish in an endless sermon … the looming mosque tower is booming its taped call to prayers; and … Eminem joins in about what a whore his mother is … Popping beers and shouting through the din, Captain Wright steers the conversation …

For. Six. Freaking. Pages! Srsly, when I want to read a serious article on a war involving an horrendous number of atrocities, I — believe it or not — want to read a serious article on a war involving an horrendous number of atrocities. I want to know casualties, who committed them, and who they were committed on, with several conjectures on why. I want to know what infrastructure has been destroyed and who by. I want to know background on all the lead players — alliances, past slights, previous strategies, and possible future actions. I want to know where the money’s coming from, where it’s going, and where it’s been stored in the meantime.

What I do NOT want is some wanker who — as an embedded person has greater access to military intelligence than any of his existing independent peers, and obviously — sees himself as some kind of real-life Dirk Pitt meets James Bond meets Sam Spade, trying out his “gritty” prose style via something that purports to be serious journalism, in obvious preparation for hunting around for a literary agent. When I am reading a serious journalistic article, I do not want twee little nicknames. I do not want American writers or singers being name-dropped in an effort to appeal to some hip demographic (or possible future endorsement). When I want serious journalism (and nothing is more serious in journalism than the reporting of human death), I expect facts and substantiated conjecture, not half-giggling insouciance and macho appeals to all the armchair Rambos out there.

[Dijibouti] … is a great example of the tectonic stresses at work here, its battered visage almost exemplifying the numerous civilizations that have crashed into one another here on the streets of this ancient port city.

Aaarrrghhh! Enough already! So, what I’m saying to you is, look out for an action-packed, so-real-you’ll-think-you-were-really-there novel from Thomas Barnett to hit the bookshelves very soon. That’s the only explanation I have for the dreck I forced myself to wade through, in search of some small nuggets of actual, you know, JOURNALISM. ‘Cos he, sure as hell, ain’t writing that!

The book he’s working on will probably involve a political assassination plot (my money says US Vice-President, UK Prime Minister or UN Secretary-General), action that ranges from the rich avenues of Wash Dic to the poor desperation of Mog and the dangerous streets of terrorism-funding Kuala Lumpur (er, KL), and involve some lone gun who screws attractive blonde lobbyists while trying to reconcile with his divorced high-powered attorney wife, and his desperate race to rescue his kidnapped daughter, reach the White House/New York/London/Geneva in time and prevent the killing before Islamic fundamentalists, Swiss cheese-makers and misguided yet brawny US Special Forces hunt him down and kill him. Can’t wai…ZZZzzzzzz…

POSTSCRIPT: The new United States Africa Command is so “with it”, so “in tune” with Africa that “for the forseeable future”, its headquarters will be in … drumroll please … Stuttgart, Germany. Well done.

Aw, have we reached the three-quarter mark already? We’ll be done by the end of September, folks, which means I’ll then have to think of actual blogs to post on Wednesdays. This serialisation has made me a bit blog-lazy, I fear. However, that’s beside the point. Onwards…

Cheloi grabs what little respite she can before the visit of Rep Kodnell of Central Control. Kodnell, when he arrives, proves to be ruthless, intelligent and unrelenting. How is our favourite Fusion agent going to do, going up against him? It’s going to be bad enough in the briefing room, but when they have their inevitable cosy little chat afterwards, the tension — and risks — rise accordingly.

FAVOURITE QUOTES

“I voted for Grakal-Ski. I thought he’d be ideal for the Nineteen. Ambitious, intelligent, loyal. The others voted for you, after your campaigns in the Eight. I hated you for that–a woman, in charge of one of the most important territories in the war. I wondered whether we had descended to the perversity of the Fusion.” He finished his drink in one gulp and jiggled the empty glass, silently asking for a refill.

She wondered what the penalty was for killing a member of the Central Control. She knew it was death, but what kind of death? Depending on the method, it might be faintly worth it.

He laughed again at the stiffness in her tone. “You’re not as good a liar as you think you are, Sie.”
Oh, you don’t know the half of it, you bastard.

“Pull this off, Sie, and you’ll be looking at the first female generalship in Perlim history.”
“I know that, sir.”
“Fail, and we’ll skin you alive and feed you to the Emperor’s zoo animals.”
“I know that too, sir.”

After an extended and reluctant hiatus, Radio Free Bliss is back on the air. This time, I interviewed dramaturg, poet, playwright, author and critic, JoSelle Vanderhooft. JoSelle had so much interesting stuff to say that it was tough getting it under my 50-minute cut-off. I hope she, and any listeners, don’t find it too choppy as a result. The interviewing schedule is full for 2008, so I hope you’re keeping up-to-date. I have heaps of wonderful authors that I’ve yet to interview.

And it’s that time of the week again. We’re up to Chapter Fourteen of War Games.

Cheloi and Garza finally find the time to snatch some stolen passion, but it only extends the ache rather than assuaging it. And there’s the upcoming visit of a member of the dreaded Central Control to also look forward to. Will Cheloi be able to keep all the strands of her machinations clear in her head, or will they begin to unravel?

FAVOURITE QUOTES

Koul liked his authority too much to appreciate that it was sometimes more beneficial to use less of it. It was the difference between being a leader and being a dictator.

She could never be sure whether Eys would have ever caught her if she stumbled–that was part of the dizzying excitement of being around her–but she knew, without a doubt, that Garza would. Garza would be there for every trip, every fall, ever vigilant and supportive. What would it take, she thought, to call such a woman her champion?

“Leave the door unlocked when you leave,” she said.
“And what are you going to do?” Garza whispered.
Cheloi smiled tightly, the shutters that walled off her feelings from the rest of her now back and well and truly in place. She headed for the bureau and picked up the bottle and one of the glasses.
“I think I’ll get drunk.”

… of War Games. For the War Games page, go here.

This is a time of personal introspection for our two main characters: Garza, after the inevitable confrontation with a frustrated Koul; and Cheloi, as she mulls over the consequences of Garza being Fusion and decides to think with a — shall we say — non-cerebral part of her anatomy.

FAVOURITE QUOTES

All she and Nils could think of was what was immediately in front of them–infiltrating the Perlim military structure — and the far future — a planet free from Perlim influence. Everything in between — her life, her dreams — seemed trivial.

The dinners were courteous, sometimes serious, sometimes entertaining, but always with an undercurrent of wary suspicion. Koul had done this with his plot to remove her from command, and she had done it with an explanation for their escape that all present knew skirted the bounds of probability.

Cheloi–Laisen–had only one life and even with the wondrous technologies of the Fusion, it was still too short to deny herself the touch of someone she had fallen in love with.
Perhaps Garza didn’t feel that same way. Perhaps it was some kind of a game to her. But not for Cheloi. She was through with denying herself this. For once, she would follow her heart and damn the consequences.

Is now up at my site.

Cheloi and Garza may have escaped the rebels and found their way back to the Nineteen, but they’re not out of danger yet. Cheloi has to face, not only her wetware counsellor, Dr Copan, but also an intently interested and watchful Koul Grakal-Ski. What can she say that will get her and Garza out of Koul’s clutches … and the assassination plot of his that backfired?

FAVOURITE QUOTES

“Just remember,” he warned. “If your disinformation plan doesn’t work, you may have to make the hard decision, Laisen–Garza Yinalña or the Fusion.”

“No, Rumis. For the tenth time, I’m not getting shipped to Regional Medical.”
Rumis’ lips twitched. “I’m sure that was only the sixth time, Colonel.”

He was only the most ambitious and ruthless officer in the Perlim Empire, whereas she was a trained Fusion operative. When it came to deception, there was no contest.

Y’know, I try to keep a low profile regarding all this writing biz. I figure that the person probably most interested in the ups and downs of my career is myself … and hapless J, unable to evade me for too long, unless he scrambles into the Nissan and scarpers. But, eventually, he has to return. Eventually, they all have to return …

But my friend, Amber Green (who I never write to as often as I should; sorry, Amber!) just pointed me to the Erotica Bestseller list at Fictionwise and — guys and gals — I’m at #5 with my very first release, The Commander’s Slave. Go here to have a look, but I think you have to be quick because these things probably change quite quickly.

I’m going to print out the page and am thinking of doing something tasteful with it. Covering it with gold leaf, properly embossed to bring out every typed character, perhaps. Or surrounding it with a miniature Sistine Chapel mash-up in gouache on plaster, complete with aromatheraphy votives and a looped track of the Vienna Boys’ Choir. Something simple like that. If you have any other subtle decorative ideas, feel free to add your own ideas in the Comments.