Nothing Ever Happens?
Sleepy Sand Bluff hasn't had a murder in twenty years. That's about to change!"
When
Jonas McCleary gets the opportunity to join the force in Sand
Bluff, he jumps at it. A cushy job in a little town where nothing ever
happens.
Nothing ever happens?
In a CM Albrecht novel? Guess Again!
Author Carl (CM) Albrecht, who has a blog of his own, shares a guest column with us today.
Find Carl's blog here: http://cmalbrecht.wordpress.com/
Why do I Write?
by C.M. Albrecht
My most recent opus was The Sand Bluff
Murders. Earlier books featured
professional detectives and amateur detectives, but I needed something
else. Another little thing that gnawed
at me was setting. I had always chosen cities because it's easy. Lots of people
and different neighborhoods, etc. But after re-reading a Miss Marple or two and
her merry adventures in tiny St. Mary Meade, I started thinking along the lines
of writing a mystery set in a small town.
Of course the US doesn't have quaint villages
like St. Mary Meade, at least not here in the Wild West where I live. Some of
the villages in the east may come closer, but I'm not acquainted with them.
Then too, I needed a detective. After a lot of
soul searching I wound up with Jonas McCleary.
He began to grow on me. I liked him because he was honest. He didn't try
to pretend he was more than he was. He only got a job as a detective because
he's good at taking written tests (a jibe at all these firms that judge you on
a written test, and there are plenty of them).
Once I got that far, things began to fall into
place. That doesn't always happen. Over the years I've started work on many a
book that just didn't go anyplace. I figured if I can't get interested I
sure can't expect to interest anyone else.
As it turned out, I'm happy with the book, and
I grew really fond of Jonas. When I wrote the book, and until recently, I had
no intention of writing a sequel, but not too long ago another little idea
began to take shape, and I visualized Jonas back on the case. I'm just about at the halfway mark, and
things are going along as of right now. With any luck and a little inspiration,
I'll have it finished before the end of this year.
My publisher, Arline Chase, suggested readers
might be interested in some other information about me, although I'm not quite
sure why. Once I was lucky enough to
attend a gathering which featured a number of celebrities as well as other
people. One young girl came up to me and asked me if I "was
anybody." I had to smile and tell
her no. I'm still not anybody. I've
never dreamed of being famous and wouldn't particularly care for the baggage
that comes with fame. A little money
would be nice, but I didn't
start writing because I saw it as the road to riches.
Okay, here are a few
things I might mention. My favorite character. Hmmmmm....
I've had a lot of favorite
characters over the years. Being a mystery fan, I loved Charlie Chan and
Sherlock Holmes...later Marlowe, Spade and Archer. As I grew intellectually I
moved on to enjoy Lord Peter, M. Poirot and of course Jane Marple. There have
been many others, too many to mention, but one of my favorites strikes me as
strange because, while he was a character all right, he was not a detective and
certainly no hero.
I'm talking about Arthur
Simpson from Eric Ambler's novel, The Light of Day. This was later
made into a movie called, "Topkapi", but any similarity between that
sorry film and the novel is purely coincidental.
Arthur Simpson is mean,
petty, vindictive, a thief, a liar, and a poseur, a peddler of pornography, a
cuckold, and a pretender to United
Kingdom citizenship. He's also an overweight
coward with a serious case of BO. He constantly feels sorry for himself and
blames everyone but himself for his problems.
Who could like a guy like
that?
Well, thanks to the artistry of Mr. Ambler, while you start out feeling
disgusted that you should be expected to read about such a person, especially
with first person narration, you are subtly drawn in and before long, despite
Mr. Simpson's lack of character, you begin to sympathize with him, at least a
little bit, when you see how everyone takes advantage of his weaknesses of
character and uses him to their own advantage.
By the time we get toward the end, you're quietly rooting for this guy
and hoping against hope that he'll somehow survive his ordeal.
I don't think he
emerges a better man in the end, but he does manage to hold his own. I'm still
not sure I really like him, or ever could like him in real life, but I sure can't
forget him. I haven't read the book in many a year, but Arthur Simpson is a guy
you'll never forget.
***
It was
suggested I mention the effect my writing has had on friends and family. That's
interesting because, for me at least, this has been a very iffy situation. Being
diffident, doubtless more diffident than I should be if I hope ever to sell any
books, I'm very reluctant to discuss my writing with others.
My wife became
discouraged long before I did with my efforts and wasted paper and postage. Up
until my first novel, The Little Mornings was accepted, all my
efforts had to be printed on paper and mailed to publishers who might or might
not return them. Some didn't even reply. Once The Little Mornings
was accepted, she felt that now I managed to have a book published I should be
satisfied and move on to greener pastures. I admit that in the past I sometimes
may have said, "If I could just get one book published, I'd be
happy." But I have a feeling publishing is something like getting started
on cocaine. Each publication is great for a bit and then you need more.
In her favor however, she's the one who lets everyone know her
husband is a published author, and she's also the person who has given away all
my personal copies.
One reviewer said something to the effect that
in my books I sounded like a hardboiled detective. I'm sure I was influenced by
Chandler,
Hammett and McDonald, but there have been many other writers who influenced me.
Zola, Christie, Sayers, Márquez, Maugham, Dürrenmatt, Hugo, Gaboriau, Ambler,
Greene, and...ah there are so many, and not always in the mystery line. I've
stayed up many a night sailing the high seas, or spurring my roan across the
windswept plains of Nevada, wasting away in freezing dungeons, tilting at
windmills, riding out depth charges in a submarine...
I can't pinpoint any one
thing, but I'm sure all these writers influenced me to some extent. Every one offers an adventure, a ride into
territory a person might otherwise never experience.
***
For years, while occupied with other things,
trying to raise a family and just trying to cope, I've felt this secret urge
nagging at me to write. Like with most writers, I'm sure, I did a lot of bad
and pointless writing that went nowhere. Once I felt I had made enough
improvement to hope to find a publisher, I began peddling my first novel, The Little Mornings.
Reception was mixed, but not promising. Agents
didn't appear to be interested unless I was willing to pay them to peddle my
book. The Big Guys wouldn't even look at my book unless it was submitted by a
registered and licensed card-carrying agent. Many wanted me to pay them
to publish or at least share publishing costs.
Finally I found a publisher and at last,
I was a published author. That, theoretically, was supposed to be the end of
the story. But somehow, before too long another book came along and then a
third and so on. The Morgenstern Murders will be my eleventh.
Jonas McCleary is back in a new role as private
detective. The book explains what happened in Sand Bluff and why he lost his
job and moved the City.
There's more back story too, as we meet his
irascible and self-reliant mother who would give anybody an inferiority complex
and follow up on his marriage, Yodaspeak and little Annie.
Things don't look too good until Jonas gets a
client and a check for a $5 dollar retainer.
Maybe he'll accomplish
something after all.
Watch for The Morgenstern Murders coming soon from Write Words,
Inc. and Amazon, etc.
