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About Richard Bowker

Author of the Portal series, the Last P.I. series, and other novels

I am loathe to criticize anyone but . . .

I have a somewhat respectable day job in which I’m supposed to oversee a couple dozen highly experienced writers.  In the past week, two different writers have sent me emails containing a sentence like the following:

I am loathe to make any changes to the content at this late date.

I generally don’t like pointing out mistakes in emails.  We’re always writing fast; we don’t don’t have time to go back and edit what we’ve written.  But for some reason I decided to point out to one of the writers that the word she should have used was loath.  She responded:

I’m so sorry!  I thought both words were one in the same.

One in the same!  I started to get a pit in my stomach.  Was the language changing without my even noticing?  Or should I start getting more persnickety about emails?

My favorite customer review so far

A satisfied Amazon customer writes about The Portal:

Product was sent on time and as expected. Thank you.

You may say that there’s some mix-up here: the satisfied Amazon customer actually thought she was reviewing something entirely different — a printer cartridge or a dog collar or a box of trash bags.  I prefer to think that she likes my novels so much that, when she discovered that the The Portal was “as expected,” she was moved to give it five stars and express her deepest gratitude.

That’s perfectly plausible, right?

Boston accents

I have never lived more than twenty miles away from Boston.  I was born and raised there.  I went to high school in the Boston neighborhood known as Dawchestuh — the same school where Whitey Bulger’s brother, Billy Bulger, also went.  (In Boston, Dorchester Avenue is invariably referred to in speech as “Dot Ave.”)  When I went off to college, I manage to travel all the way to Cambridge, one city to the north, where I once actually did pahk my cah in Hahvid Yahd.  (That’s not really a thing they let you do.)

When people become aware of this sad fact about me, their first response is usually: “But you don’t have a Boston accent!”  And that’s true.  But, like any Bostonian, I notice when actors don’t get the accent right.  Which is more often than not.  But it’s never been clear to me that this is because the accent is, well, hahd, or because I’m just so attuned to it.  Do people from Louisiana grouse about the accents in True Detective?  What do folks from Baltimore think when they watch The Wire?

Here’s an interview with a Boston-area casting director (about fifteen minutes into the episode), who says the Boston accent is one of the hardest ones to get right.  But I think she underestimates the difficulty in a few ways:

  • She says most actors, like Jack Nicholson in The Departed, are inconsistent about dropping their R’s.  But I think sometimes actors are too consistent.  The casting director herself pronounced lots of R’s, but she was consistent in saying “hahd” and “heah”, which is what you want.
  • She neglects to mention another aspect of the Boston accent — putting in R’s where they don’t belong.  This is the biggest temptation I have: for example, my first instinct is to say “I sawr it” instead of “I saw it.”   (I can remember way back when I was learning to read, being puzzled when I saw that sentence in print for the first time — what happened to the R that I clearly heard everyone say?)  A somewhat lesser temptation is to say “dater” instead of “data”.
  • Finally, there’s more than one Boston accent.  In movies you typically hear the straight-on streets-of-Southie accent.  The actress who plays the wife on Ray Donovan does a good version of this (she’s from Belfast).  The Kennedys, of course, have their own weird version of the accent.  And there’s a different patrician version that you don’t hear much anymore.  But most people I know just have the merest trace of an accent — just enough to make it clear where they’re from.

Although most of my novels are set in or around Boston or have Boston characters, I’ve never been tempted to try to do a Boston accent in print.  Just too distracting for the reader.  You just have to imagine the accent is there.

“Shared Notes & Highlights” for Dover Beach

How come I never noticed Amazon’s “Shared Notes & Highlights” section before? According to Amazon, these are “the thoughts and passages that Kindle readers have shared while reading this book.”

Anyway, here are the shared notes and highlights for my novel Dover BeachFeel free to use them on Christmas cards, print them on t-shirts, etc.

“Solipsistic,” I suggested. “As if he were the only person who really existed.”

And:

“I know I’m dying,” he said, “but you’re dying, too, everyone is dying. All that matters is what you do before you take that last breath.”

And:

“Rituals are what bind us together. They shelter us from the terror of loneliness and death. They give life meaning and shape.”

I know I know, these don’t seem like quotes from a private-eye novel.  But I’m pretty sure they work in context. And Dover Beach is not really a standard-issue private-eye novel.

“Replica” is now free in England and Canada!

I seem to have some readers there.

In England, it’s #7 among technothrillers on Amazon.

In Canada, it’s #8.

You still have to pay for it in Australia, alas.

Here’s a nice short review that just appeared on Barnes & Noble:

What a terrific book!  Richard Bowker is one of my new favorite authors!

 

Writers in movies: Third Star

Haven’t done one of these in a while.

Third Star is an indie movie from 2010 starring Benedict Cumberbatch and three other young British actors.  The main character is a 29-year-old aspiring writer who is dying of cancer.  His friends take him on one last journey to a remote bay in Wales.  Along the way they laugh, they cry, and they learn something about life, about friendship, and about loss.

I know what you’re thinking: This is just the kind of movie I want to avoid at all costs.  And you would be right.  The movie is nicely photographed, nicely acted, it contains no superheroes, no one meets cute . . . but it still feels very trite, very paint-by-numbers.  Everyone has his own flaw, his own secret . . . and yet, at the end, we don’t really feel that we know them; instead, we feel manipulated by a screenwriter without anything deep to say.

There are actually two writers in the movie: the dying-of-cancer-so-he-will-never-achieve-his-life’s-ambition writer and the talented-writer-who-could-never-be-as-good-as-his-famous-father-so-he-gave-it-up writer. But there’s never a moment when we really see them as writers.  Cumberbatch’s character feels a generalized sense of loss, of leaving this world too soon, but he never feels this loss as a writer, with stories left untold, with characters left undescribed.

Which is not to say that I can’t empathize with that loss.  I sold my first novel when I was about 30; by that time Cumberbatch’s character would have been dead.  And I recall that one of my strongest reactions was one of relief.  I would never have to think of myself again as an aspiring writer.  Instead, I could now think of myself as a published author.  However unsuccessful my writing career might be, no one would be able to take that away from me.  It surely would have been a cruel fate to be denied that satisfaction. I was hoping I’d get some sense of this from Third Star, but alas, I enjoyed The Two Mrs. Carrolls more.

What you can do when you’re not writing

  1. Go for a run and listen to Chopin.  Listening to Chopin doesn’t generally make you run faster, but for me, running is about survival, not speed.
  2. Sit on your deck, drink a Little Sumpin’ ale, and read Middlemarch.  This ale is the perfect complement to a long Victorian novel.  Middlemarch doesn’t have the humor and passages of stupendous genius that mark a Dickens novel, but it also doesn’t have the absurd coincidences and simpering female characters. Reading the novel, though, is taking me about as long as writing my own.
  3. Watch The Two Mrs. Carrolls, an entertaining but incredibly bad 1947 thriller starring Humphrey Bogart (a tad out of character playing an insanely murderous artist) and Barbara Stanwyck, who only gradually comes to the realization that the artist she married is also insanely murderous. It features a ridiculously primitive application of Chekhov’s gun — “Here, I happen to have this gun.  Why don’t I leave it with you in case the Yorkshire strangler happens by?”  It also features what I’ll call the principle of “Barbara Stanwyck’s gun” — in a movie of a certain era, if the female lead is pointing a gun at the villain at the climax, she will find herself unable to shoot the guy, for no apparent reason.  The villain will easily disarm her, but the hero will arrive in the nick of time to save her from certain death.
  4. Go to the beach and complete the Sunday Sudoku.  I am man enough to admit that I am often unable to complete the Sunday Sudoku.  However, I’m here to tell you 2014-08-10 11.22.20that I completed it in near-record time today.  Was it the salty air?  Or the knowledge that I didn’t have an unfinished novel to return to?
  5. Read the two-page open-letter to Amazon in the New York Times signed by a bazillion famous authors, telling Amazon to basically quit using them as leverage in their negotiations with Hachette.  Color me unimpressed.  Here is one response to it, via The Passive Voice.
  6. Come up with a couple more ideas for your novel.  Well, yes, that can happen, too.

Draft 3 of my novel is complete — am I done yet?

Probably not.  But at least now I have a draft I can give to folks without having to apologize and explain about all the stuff I’m going to fix, really, no foolin’, I know I didn’t explain what happened to the second car–I’ll get to that.

This draft took just about a month.  It involved changing a basic plot line, which involved changing the characterization of a major character.  Plus the usual tinkering.  Everything seems to make sense now, at least to me.  At least today.  So I’m declaring a partial victory.

Why I’ll never get rich from writing, part xxxvii

This is from Hugh Howey, via The Passive Voice — the way to become successful in online publishing:

The idea is this: Annual releases are too slow to build on one another. And not just in the repetition of getting eyeballs on your works, but in how online recommendation algorithms work. Liliana suggests publishing 5 works all at once. Same day. And she thinks you should have another work sitting there ready to go a month later. While these works are gaining steam, write the next work, which if you write and edit in two months, will hit a month after the “hole” work.

Why does this work? I think it has to do with “impressions,” or the number of times people see a product before they decide to take a chance on it. (In this case, the product is your name.) It also has to do with recommendation algorithms and how new works are treated on various online bestseller lists. From my own experience, I know that it was following WOOL with four more rapid releases that helped my career take off. I followed these five releases a month later with FIRST SHIFT, and I released a work every three or four months after that (SECOND SHIFT, I, ZOMBIE, THIRD SHIFT, plus several short works).

Here I am a year and a half into the writing of my new novel, and I’m close.  But I’m not quite there.  Maybe a couple more months…  Will I have something ready to go a month later?  Yeah.  Sure.  No problem.