The bodies at Gilgo...

Detectives were looking for a young woman that had disappeared... like so many others. She was pretty once, someone's little girl, but drugs and prostitution ravaged her... and now she was missing. Cops searched a lonely stretch of beach in Long Island, a place of gray sands and wretched tufts of grass and weeds. There is no laughter here, no smell of suntan lotion or picnic lunches. Even the ocean, as gray as the sand and sky, seems to refuse to lend its song to the greasy waves that roll onto the shore and then recede... as if ashamed.

The cops haven't found that young lady, but they did find the bodies of ten others very much like her... all wrapped in burlap, and all discarded along this mostly wild and untidy finger of sand and surf. Who they are, thanks to the marvels of forensic medicine, was fairly easy to determine. Who put them there and why is another matter altogether. The NYPD and the FBI have teamed up to investigate the work of yet another serial killer, they have even stretched their dragnet overseas and have enlisted the aid of Interpol.

It is all so sobering, and yet so scary and fascinating at the same time. That initial young lady lost, in a quiet and most profound way, led to the discovery of ten more young women who might otherwise have never been found. In their search for her, those detectives unearthed the works of a monster... and now the hunt grows in scope and in urgency. They want to stop this killer before he kills again. I hope they succeed.

Someone read it?!?

You know, a well-known writer (whose name escapes me at the moment, although it may have been Stephen King) once said that, "a writer's fame is the best kind. You're anonymous enough to walk the streets unhindered, but famous enough to still get a good seat at a restaurant." Okay, I may have paraphrased here... in fact, I'm sure of it. Anyway, the point I guess I'm trying to make is how so many of us are so busy writing that we sometimes forget that there are people out there that actually read what we write. I'd like to introduce a personal experience as a case in point...
The other day as I was heading to the commuter railroad on my way home (Long Island Railroad), a young lady called to me. I didn't know her but I saw her reach down and pick up a black bookbag. Since I work for the city transit agency and I wear my I.D. around my neck, I assumed that she was going to hand me someone's lost bookbag (this happens all too often). Anyway, when I approach her she surprises me by pulling a copy of my novel from the aforementioned backpack! She points to my photo on the back and asks, "Is this you?" I laughed awkwardly and replied yes. She then said, Oh my God! I'm reading your book and it's awsome! AWESOME! I love it!"
Wow. I was surprised, elated, and chagrinned, all at the same time. I mumbled a thanks and said something about having to catch my train. As I was leaving I called out another thank you and just made my train.
I have to admit that I was caught off-guard. I rarely think about whose reading my novel or stories and I was totally unprepared for this young lady's enthusiastic response to having read it. Perhaps we as writers should occasionally emerge from our self-imposed isolations and think about those that are actually rading what we are writing or have already written, and maybe even practice a little bow, curtsey, hardy thank you, or even a wise nod to show our appreciation. I know I will.

Post NYC Pitch Writers Conference 2010

What can I say except... wow. I participated in the 2010 NYC Pitch & Shop writers conference and I had a great time. I met some very talented people who also happened to be very nice and a lot of fun. It was an eye-opening experience and I learned a lot of things. I actually wished it didn't have to end so soon, even though I have to admit I was exhausted by the time it did end. I learned how to pitch my manuscript, I learned how to write and tighten my pitch, and I learned a little about the publishing industry (such as how subjective it is!). I was lucky because the editors of two publishing houses indicated that they wanted to see more of my manuscript, so wish me luck. I know I'm keeping my fingers crossed! Anyway, like I said, it was a wonderful time and I could feel my atrophying creative muscles come back to life. It was great!

The 2010 NYC Pitch and Shop Conference

I've always wanted to attend a writer's conference, but time and/or finances didn't always permit. This year however, I'm actually going to attend. Now , I've heard that going to a conference is one of the best ways to find an agent, and since I'm still in the market for an agent I figure it's a good investment. This particular conference is set up to allow authors to "pitch" their manuscripts to (not at) actual agents. Even if I don't find an agent at this event, at least someone may remember my face and have a decent word to say about me and/or my work in the near future... Anyway, below is the email I received from the conference and I urge everyone to join me!

NYC PITCH AND SHOP CONFERENCE
Shop The Novel, Pitch the House

Dear Arnold,

Hello and thank you for your application. It is clear you are a serious writer and one capable of writing a manuscript that editors and agents will want to see. Following a review, we have decided to accept you into the upcoming NYC 2010 Pitch-and-Shop Conference.

Pre-conference assignments will follow upon registration. They are designed to help you perfect your pitch and focus on those specific elements the conference Editors want to see and hear you talk about.

At the conference, we will work to help your manuscript find a home at a major publishing house. If a publishing house wants to publish your novel, they will ask that you be represented by an agent; therefore, if necessary, we will assist you in finding suitable representation. We work with several agencies, including ICM, Folio Literary, Dijkstra Agency, AEI, Amster Literary, and others. No fee is involved. However, if your manuscript is not yet ready, the conference will provide you with a firm list of additional prep work you must complete before securing yourself either an Editor or an agent.

Registration can be accomplished at http://nycpitchconference.com/pc-registration.htm

More information will follow in the weeks prior to the conference.

We look forward to working with you.

Please RSVP you received this mail.

Best Wishes,

Michael Neff
Fiction Workshop Editor
NYC Pitch and Shop Conference
http://nycpitchconference.com

A New Year and so... new mayhem

Wow, okay so it's a New Year... now would be a good time to sharpen those pencils or dust-off those keyboards. Yes, we human beings are very often creatures of habit, tradition and ritual. So we like to categorize things and put things in places just so... What the heck am I talking about? Well, consider the ritual of Spring Cleaning. It makes sense to throw open the windows and break out the cleaning solutions and feather dusters in order to air out our homes, and make things new again in time for Spring's new beginnings. We have times and dates and places that we keep for special occasions or even hum-drum duties. And all that being said (or written as it were), perhaps the New Year would be a good time to take inventory of our writing tools and needs for the upcoming months. Do you have enough of your favorite writing tools? Is your sharpener still sharpening sharply or does it need to be replaced or repaired? Is your computer operating at top mode or have all of your files slowed things down to a crawl? Hey, how about that snazzy new writing software you were dying to try out last year? Maybe this year would be a good time to give it a spin! There are tons of things we can do to make this year's writing more pleasant and streamlined... kind of like a literary spring cleaning. Check out those unfinished stories you have languishing in a drawer somewhere... maybe they can be spruced up and be made marketable after all. Maybe you can even take a shot at that screenplay you were unsure of tackling last year. Anyway, the New Year may be a good time to start the ritual of new beginnings, new ideas or the tweaking of not-so-new ones, grabbing the duster and wiping off that computer desk 'til it shines... and then let the murder and mayhem begin for the New Year!

My worst enemy...

Okay, so it's true. All of it. I have an enemy that confounds me at every step, forces me to do things I'd rather not and sometimes sends me into fits of morose despondence or bestial anger and frustration. Why do I let this be? How did I lead myself to this moment? Only to escape but then return to it again and again as if it were some pernicious drug that I am addicted to? Because that's precisely what it is. A drug. A balm. An enemy to be vanquished when I finally get over my moments of weakness and indecision and decide to deal with this enemy head-on. Perhaps I'll take the easy and most sensible way out and make friends? Maybe I'll smile and make googly eyes at this creature in the hope that I can sneak up on it and take it by surprise? Either way I'm afraid I must face it... time after time, over and over again... because I must. And face it I will, until once again I conquer it and send it scurrying back into the shadows from whence it came, knowing that I am again its victor. This craven enemy... this haughty tormentor... this blank page.

The Job

A big snowstorm is coming and as part of my job I am sitting in the emergency control center in case I'm needed to coordinate things with my respective department. So far, the storm has been a big bust and I'm sitting here mostly bored. But in a crackle of static we learn that a woman has been hit by a train and everyone moves into action, notifying emergency agencies like police, ambulance, and even the M.E. It would be surreal if I hadn't been here so many times before. In my city, death by subway is one of the preferred methods of suicide, and sometimes even murder. So I'm here... it's my job.

It's raining...

Congratulations to Karen Harrington for being roasted!

I opened my front door today to go to work, the forecasts had predicted rain and they were right. It is raining. I don't know what I expected, I guess I kind of thought it would a a sweet sort of rain, the kind that inspires you to snuggle up next to a really good friend or book, maybe catch up on those DVD's that always seem to be collecting dust somewhere.... But no, it's not that kind of rain. It's not the kind of rain that traps you in introspection as you gaze out of your window, it's not even the kind of rain you silently thank for keeping what's left of your lawn from dying and turning the sad, lusterless brown of failure and decay. No, it's a dreary, ugly, mean kind of rain. The kind of rain that makes you turn away in dread, the kind that fills you with dismay at the thought of going out in its soggy, nasty ether. It's a rain cold as the grave and twice as repellent. At home, you close the curtains with a shudder and turn up the volume on your television or radio to drown out the leathery sussuration of its unnatural call. You don't care that it is reviving your lawn or saving the last of this season's tomatoes... this rain is not quite right, it just feels bad. It makes you feel inexplicably lonely, it dredges up memories of things you'd buried deep inside and prayed that you'd forget... yes, it's that kind of rain. The kind of rain that washes the blood of murder victims down sewer drains, that destroys crime scenes and renders evidence unusable. The kind of rain that hides a victims tears, that makes escape from a predator so much harder, that causes the innocent to slip and fall at the worst possible time...
it's a crime writer's kind of rain...