Hi
Just to invite you to have a look at the Murder is Everywhere blog site. Seven internationally renowned crime writers - well six and me - blog weekly. I am doing a Friday, my blog goes live on Thursday night at midnight. I am lucky enough to be following in the footsteps of Dan Waddell. (The son of the great darts commentator Sid Waddell who sadly passed away at the end of last year. ) He once called me a truculent Scot for which I remonstrated him therefore proving his point! But Dan and I have shared a few pizzas as well as a few editors. He wrote the award winning 'Blood Detective' as well as a novel about a murder set upon the Titanic. I've shared a few panels with him and he has always stunned me with the amount of meticulous research he has to do in order to even start planning a book. At that point I would just lie down and have a conversation with the dog.
I know that he is coming back to do a guest blog for the site every now and again and I look forward to them.
So have a look at 'murder is everywhere' and see what is going on in the crime writing world in Brazil, Greece, China, the USA, Iceland and South Africa.
Oh. and Scotland,
Been blogging about New Year - Hootnanny, Hootnanny, Hoot!
See you there,
Caro
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Killer Launch
As you may have guessed, I have been busy. Nearly finished the new book and finished editing the cook book.. you might have seen it in The Sun, The Sunday Post and many others as well as on daybreak Tv with Lorraine 'isn't that great' Kelly.
Waterstone's,. Thursday 15th November, 6.30 onwards - seven best selling crimewriters - nibbles from the cook book - wine- Prof Sue Black - more wine - a night of fun, books and the most grizzly cooking since Hannibal Lecter went on 'Come Crime With Me!'
You have to be there!!
Caro
Waterstone's,. Thursday 15th November, 6.30 onwards - seven best selling crimewriters - nibbles from the cook book - wine- Prof Sue Black - more wine - a night of fun, books and the most grizzly cooking since Hannibal Lecter went on 'Come Crime With Me!'
You have to be there!!
Caro
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
fish, chips and crime
Just got back from my world tour of all over the place, including a brief trip to hell and back through high water and all kinds of other metaphors. There was no email access anywhere. No phone signal. Just blame hurricane Jordan. The actual hurricane that is not the page three model in a strop.
Bumped into a few celebrities on the way, some are just as lovely or not lovely off stage as on but they are what they are. Some are just dure money grabbing gits off stage yet on stage they are all bon homie and lovliness dahling and butter would not melt. Off stage they will snub you, stab you in the back as easily as they would steal your last Rolo. They snap their fingers at their PR people to get them a taxi ( just asking would do!), they are as nice as ninepence on stage and really horrible to the other panellists afterwards. Daft to do that to a crime writer, as they will just write about them and get their own back in the next book. Not brutally slaughter them in fiction as they might enjoy that but write about them and give them a mullet or make them a Take That fan or something equally awful.
I am refusing to acknowledge the sock puppetting scandal. There is a good reason for this. I don't understand it. But Tony Black and Zoe Sharp and I ( three crime writers who should have been making better use of their time! I just put that in in case my agent reads this as she thinks I am blogging instead of writing my next book but this is a freelance stream of consciousness- typing rather than dense plotting while really having to concentrate and do big thinking, I am able to eat pringles while blogging! ). We three invented a new word... fingerbobbing. That means writing over the internet about folk and being NICE about them.
Let's start a trend!
Firstly, the lovely but extremely stressed Susan. She is stressed every time I see her. She runs the Milngavie arts and book festival and is a little superstar. I might be talking rubbish but she owns the book shop in Milngavie that used to be owned by Magnus Magnusson. Each year she has run this festival for arts etc and on the last night it reaches it's climax. The culmination of all that is great and worthy about the world of high brow literature.. the fish, chips and crime night. It is hosted by the marvellous Len Murray- every body's favourite grandad. That is not the trade union one, rather the QC one. The man is a natural wit, he needs no mic ( just as well as one minute in to the event the sound system was making noises like a cow having a spasm of the vocal chords.) Len does not need a mic, he said that if he asked a question in court two, the answer came from court four. In fact, you could probably hear him in Quebec. The other panellist was Sophie Hannah, a great girl if I can call her that . She said that any gig where you get chips is worth doing! She was funny, witty, informative, and a general all round good egg, ad libbing with the rest of us as we waited for the secret signal that the chips had arrived. If you ever get the chance
to go and see her do so. I’ve read a few of her books, more observation and psych thriller than the specifics of forensically who did what to who and why. I was telling her that I watched a programme on TV, getting forty minutes through it before I realised it was a TV adaptation of one of her books. She said that she watched the whole thing and did not recognise it at all!
.
She did ask me an interesting question though. She asked me which of my books was my favourite. I answered and then she asked.. but which do you think is your best... and the answer was different.
We had rather a good natter about that over our chip butties.
The three of us kept going - ready to be cut off in our prime the minute the chips arrived... just imagine all these posh folk, crystal glasses, champagne, chandeliers, then the fish suppers arrive.. what joy! And they all turn into finger lickers ( not to be confused with fingerbobbers )
Poor Susan, stressed no doubt by being driven slowly insane by the health and safety Nazis, has said No More festivals.
Boo hiss, but I do understand. it's too much.
Go and visit her book shop. It has a wee coffee house at the back. Great latte and the best egg mayo sandwiches I have ever tasted. And that is true.
Not just a fingerbob!
Sunday, 9 September 2012
Pic; is it over yet?
Friday and Saturday were back down to earth with a slap. 6 am starts. Cold and driech, autumn is well and truly here. The days past in a patient list full of caffeine and tiredness. I was not in Florence Nightingale mode, I was in the mode of my other great medical hero. Gregory House. 'It's patients who get in the way of treatment!'
Sunday was a confusing day, too many kids, too many dogs, high heels, blisters, trouser legs too long. A big charity do that could be an all day affair, but sore feet and sore throat had not recovered from the launch. The do was 40 miles away... and I had to do my face.. and look human despite the lack of sleep.
I've seen other guest speakers turn up as if they have just finished mowing the lawn but it seems a little disrespectful, unless you are Alan Titchmarsh of course.
It was a ladies who lunch type of thing, lots of cleavage and flowers. (Not mine. I do not posses the first and am allergic to the second.) But they tend to talk, a lot. As if they have been let out from somewhere after a period of captivity. They are lovely and very welcoming, even the lady with the job that would normally make me produce an AK 47 - a home economics teacher, but she was quite normal. I normally class them with Douglas Adams 'B' ark, ie the sort of people the world is better off without... Telephone sanitisers, Simon Cowell, Big Brother, anybody who says 'spelled the Gaelic way etc'
There is always a intrinsic difficulty in these events, the audiences are an unknown quantity and indeed, quality. My 'audience' know that they are going to get a sad sick pervert giving them verbal shrapnel. Crime audiences don't mind us talking about chopping up prostitutes or nailing household pets to the neighbours door and they will laugh. We might be SSP but we are nice with it.
Talking to the general public is always slightly more difficult. People have paid a lot of money to have a nice afternoon, it might be a mistake to stick to the script if folk are getting scared. Chris Brookmyre does not alter his style at all, what you see is what you get, usually with both barrels. I don't mind yielding a little. If people have paid money to come along and I am part of the deal, the deal is to entertain them.... and get money out them. Would I say that if my granny was in the audience? If not then I will keep stumm.
They were all very nice ladies, even the HE teacher, all dressed as if going to a wedding, some of them hyphenated. I very quickly got the impression that they were under the (wrong ) impression that I was a nice, chick lit writer, a bit kind of Colin Firth and Shades of Jane Austin.
Oh dear.
My fall back plan was to poke fun at Mensa ( a great crowd pleaser that one!)
Then address questions that I was casually asked during the dinner. Folk are curious about writers. They like to know things! They want to know how to kill their husbands, then they want to know how to get away with it.
The lady in charge of me ( there has to be one!) is from the 'north of England'. I am not good at accents but I would place her somewhere between James Bolam and Cheryl Cole. We were running late so the raffle was in double quick time, she was desperately trying to say 'Yuille' 'Crainlarich and Achencouchen' and I was desperately trying not to laugh. Maybe we should just make the raffle a comedy double act. If we vote for independence, I think she should be allowed to stay.
There was a bit where I did have to bite my tongue and dig my fingernails into my palms to stop laughing. I have a very weird sense of humour and will laugh at at the most inappropriate things. I have spent much of my life around professional musicians, indeed HWMBI is one. People never think that they can stand up and sort out the Higgs Boson unless they have studied physics, so why do people think they can play the drums or sing? In here please just insert my usual rant about the X factor. The X factor is a success because so few who think they can sing actually can. They are usually tone deaf and have no friends to tell them the truth. Often what passes for singing is a noise that can be auto tuned to sound less like a cat having a hysterectomy. And there is a narrow range of song they feel is acceptable. Which is worse than a shame.
So after my wee bit, a young girl got up to sing us a couple of songs. This was fine. She could sing. She could hold a tune. She had a beautiful lyrical very pure voice..... so why did she sing along to a crap backing CD with crap backing vocals? At that point... with her standing behind a lectern, nodding at the instrumental break with no guitarist to look at during the guitar solo, I just got a bit French and Saunders.
She had a great voice, we were on the banks of the Bonnie Doon. I think one of the greatest song writers in the world had a wee ready made song for her there, a melody that is so beautiful it is tear jerking. She could have done it unaccompanied, I think she is that talented. So why did she sing that American shit?
However all that is just a personal opinion. It was a great day, the committee worked very hard to make a success of it. Action For Medical Research is the best known charity that nobody knows anything about, they just politely go on their way raising money. And the research they make possible and the medical advances they fund are well documented and worth every penny donated. I've been in practice for 28 years and I see, in my lifetime, the difference that this charity has made to the public profile of conditions Rett's syndrome. It is good stuff, check out the website.
They used to be ' help a crippled child' - remember the wee boy collecting box that used to stand outside shops with a polished head as every body patted him as they walked by... and put money in. They are still much loved, and cherished. Probably to the annoyance of the PC nazis. There was one such collecting box outside the fish mongers in Paisley Road West. I would not go in because of the kipper eyes ( still freak me out, the eyes of dead fish). I would stay outside and my gran would give me an old thrupence to put in the box to help the wee kiddies. I'd stand and chat away to him, waiting. I think some times, I even heard him talk back. But I was only five at the time.
I think there might be a short story there!
Caro
Sunday was a confusing day, too many kids, too many dogs, high heels, blisters, trouser legs too long. A big charity do that could be an all day affair, but sore feet and sore throat had not recovered from the launch. The do was 40 miles away... and I had to do my face.. and look human despite the lack of sleep.
I've seen other guest speakers turn up as if they have just finished mowing the lawn but it seems a little disrespectful, unless you are Alan Titchmarsh of course.
It was a ladies who lunch type of thing, lots of cleavage and flowers. (Not mine. I do not posses the first and am allergic to the second.) But they tend to talk, a lot. As if they have been let out from somewhere after a period of captivity. They are lovely and very welcoming, even the lady with the job that would normally make me produce an AK 47 - a home economics teacher, but she was quite normal. I normally class them with Douglas Adams 'B' ark, ie the sort of people the world is better off without... Telephone sanitisers, Simon Cowell, Big Brother, anybody who says 'spelled the Gaelic way etc'
There is always a intrinsic difficulty in these events, the audiences are an unknown quantity and indeed, quality. My 'audience' know that they are going to get a sad sick pervert giving them verbal shrapnel. Crime audiences don't mind us talking about chopping up prostitutes or nailing household pets to the neighbours door and they will laugh. We might be SSP but we are nice with it.
Talking to the general public is always slightly more difficult. People have paid a lot of money to have a nice afternoon, it might be a mistake to stick to the script if folk are getting scared. Chris Brookmyre does not alter his style at all, what you see is what you get, usually with both barrels. I don't mind yielding a little. If people have paid money to come along and I am part of the deal, the deal is to entertain them.... and get money out them. Would I say that if my granny was in the audience? If not then I will keep stumm.
They were all very nice ladies, even the HE teacher, all dressed as if going to a wedding, some of them hyphenated. I very quickly got the impression that they were under the (wrong ) impression that I was a nice, chick lit writer, a bit kind of Colin Firth and Shades of Jane Austin.
Oh dear.
My fall back plan was to poke fun at Mensa ( a great crowd pleaser that one!)
Then address questions that I was casually asked during the dinner. Folk are curious about writers. They like to know things! They want to know how to kill their husbands, then they want to know how to get away with it.
The lady in charge of me ( there has to be one!) is from the 'north of England'. I am not good at accents but I would place her somewhere between James Bolam and Cheryl Cole. We were running late so the raffle was in double quick time, she was desperately trying to say 'Yuille' 'Crainlarich and Achencouchen' and I was desperately trying not to laugh. Maybe we should just make the raffle a comedy double act. If we vote for independence, I think she should be allowed to stay.
There was a bit where I did have to bite my tongue and dig my fingernails into my palms to stop laughing. I have a very weird sense of humour and will laugh at at the most inappropriate things. I have spent much of my life around professional musicians, indeed HWMBI is one. People never think that they can stand up and sort out the Higgs Boson unless they have studied physics, so why do people think they can play the drums or sing? In here please just insert my usual rant about the X factor. The X factor is a success because so few who think they can sing actually can. They are usually tone deaf and have no friends to tell them the truth. Often what passes for singing is a noise that can be auto tuned to sound less like a cat having a hysterectomy. And there is a narrow range of song they feel is acceptable. Which is worse than a shame.
So after my wee bit, a young girl got up to sing us a couple of songs. This was fine. She could sing. She could hold a tune. She had a beautiful lyrical very pure voice..... so why did she sing along to a crap backing CD with crap backing vocals? At that point... with her standing behind a lectern, nodding at the instrumental break with no guitarist to look at during the guitar solo, I just got a bit French and Saunders.
She had a great voice, we were on the banks of the Bonnie Doon. I think one of the greatest song writers in the world had a wee ready made song for her there, a melody that is so beautiful it is tear jerking. She could have done it unaccompanied, I think she is that talented. So why did she sing that American shit?
However all that is just a personal opinion. It was a great day, the committee worked very hard to make a success of it. Action For Medical Research is the best known charity that nobody knows anything about, they just politely go on their way raising money. And the research they make possible and the medical advances they fund are well documented and worth every penny donated. I've been in practice for 28 years and I see, in my lifetime, the difference that this charity has made to the public profile of conditions Rett's syndrome. It is good stuff, check out the website.
They used to be ' help a crippled child' - remember the wee boy collecting box that used to stand outside shops with a polished head as every body patted him as they walked by... and put money in. They are still much loved, and cherished. Probably to the annoyance of the PC nazis. There was one such collecting box outside the fish mongers in Paisley Road West. I would not go in because of the kipper eyes ( still freak me out, the eyes of dead fish). I would stay outside and my gran would give me an old thrupence to put in the box to help the wee kiddies. I'd stand and chat away to him, waiting. I think some times, I even heard him talk back. But I was only five at the time.
I think there might be a short story there!
Caro
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