Breaking All The Right Rules

They’re the mainstays of formulaic writing. You know the stories, like Pretty Woman, where poor misunderstood or unfortunate character is going to be faced with a moment of self discovery, when they realize what they were meant to be, and of course they’ll have a chance to change everything and become fulfill their destiny.

And I don’t mean to mock fantasy in saying this, because I love that stuff. This is strictly mocking tired, predictable plotlines that have been done to death.

(And this post should have a warning – it’s one of the ones that proves how strangely my mind moves from one thing to another and dammit, it all makes sense to me so just try to follow along.)

I got thinking about this, in part because I’m going cross-eyed transcribing my interview with Mark Billingham for the next Spinetingler. I can’t reference the offending comment that’s prompted this chain of thought, because until my victims sign off (Ken’s going to back out now that he knows I call them victims) I won’t quote them. They get full chance to retract. Some think that’s being unnecessarily cautious, but most people I interview these days know me. And I’m not sure if anyone wants to go on record for each and every time they said, “Fucking MacBride.”*

But I can tell you that one of the great things about Mark is that he makes me think. I spend part of the time laughing so hard I miss half of what he said, and the other part with my mind ten steps sideways, thinking about something interesting he said. People always think of Mark as funny – and he is – but he’s also one of the smartest people in this business that you might ever have the good fortune to meet and talk to.

Anyway, the interview got me thinking about formulas. Formulaic plots, formulaic characters, the same stories retold, just change the genders or the scenery or the age of the protagonists.

Which leads to my thoughts on comparisons, and how we have this human tendency to box things in terms of likeness. I’ve had a few comparisons made after people read my book. One person said I reminded them of Julia Spencer-Fleming. Another said Michael Connelly. I even have permission from another (someone who blurbed my book) to quote them saying I’m the next Laura Lippman. (From your lips to God’s ears, my unnamed source. I’m total fangirl where Laura’s concerned.)

Much as I find those comments incredibly flattering, I’ve avoided referencing them in any lasting capacity (eg: in blurbs). I’m convinced it could only do me harm, because it automatically sets the bar for measurement. Laura’s had something like 14 books to hone her craft. If I’m comparable to her when I reach book 14, I’ll be happy.

But this is a bit of a side note to the point, because in thinking about comparisons, I got thinking of the tendency to compare an author against themselves. There’s a point where some readers start asking, if only subconsciously, Can this book be as good as their last one?

That’s an unfortunate place to be in, as an author. It means you’ve hit a threshold that readers may find it hard for even you to match. For some authors, it’s the plateau before the plummet. Some are sensible enough to avoid that, but many, mostly those who fall prey to formulaic writing and just producing what people want instead of continuing to grow as an author and take risks, falter.

Just the other day I was mentioning about the fact that I want to try whatever is interesting to me in my writing. That I’m not at the point where I have anyone putting expectations on me, and I’m enjoying that. It might sound like a bit of a contradiction, coming from me, because I’m such a fan of series characters.

I mean, I’m a huge fan of the Rebus series, with book 17 just being released last month. Well, some authors can do 17+ books in a series and never lose the touch, but not many.

Reading The Naming of the Dead was something I’d looked forward to for a long time. It was my first Rebus book since visiting Scotland. The Naming of the Dead takes place in July 2005, which was when I went to Scotland for the first time. In both 2005 and 2006 I drank in The Ox. I’ve seen Gayfield Square, and the station where Rebus works. Been to Mary King’s Close, and I could bore you to tears listing off the other Rebus-related sites.

Now, all Rebus fans know that the end is near. I’m on Inspector Rebus, so I’ve seen all the talk and speculation about raising the age of mandatory retirement for cops in Scotland and whether Rebus could continue as a PI… blah blah blah.

A couple years ago, it bothered me. Now, it doesn’t. If Rebus ends up six feet under I just want a headstone so I can pay my respects, and I can’t imagine a greater compliment to an author, that their creation would be so real to people that they’d actually care if they lived or died or carried on.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t skeptics, those who think the series has gone beyond where it should have ended.

So… what’s my verdict on The Naming of the Dead?

I think it’s in my top three Rankin reads ever. Top five for sure.

That’s all I’m going to say about that book. I don’t see any reason for me to review it. End of the day, there are some books you just want to have the opportunity to enjoy and I was completely absorbed by the book.

Now, for those who know a fair bit about Scottish crime fiction, John McFetridge raised in interesting question on his blog and perhaps someone knows the answer. I don’t. If Christopher Brookmyre, Ian Rankin or Denise Mina could just hop on over to John’s blog, maybe he’d get the answer.

And damn, now I’m curious enough to want to know. I think I’d suppressed that Rankin scene. Nasty.

Now, this is where I wish I could cite something Mark said in the course of our interview, but I can’t. What I will say is this. Thank God for the authors that don't write to formulas. There are certain authors that have become for me my comfort reads, authors that never fail to push themselves to raise the bar higher, and never cease to amaze me with what they do.

Rankin’s one. Mark Billingham’s another. Edits, travel and a myriad of things have conspired to keep me from reading some books the minute they came out this year, but I have to buy them right away, so that as soon as I have the time to read them I can. There is nothing like going back to a trusted author, one who’s impressed you time and again, and settling in for a great read, and that’s what I’ll be doing a lot of next month, once all this stuff is cleared off my plate. Oh, I know I still have a pile of work to do, but I’ll have a clear head, and I’ll be able to lose myself in more great books. Until then, I’m holding on so that when I crack them open, I can savour them.

Who are the authors that never disappoint you guys?

* This may or may not be an actual quote. It might also have been something I thought when Stuart was editing my book. It could also be what Val McDermid thought when Stuart called her Valerie…