33 posts categorized "Books"

February 03, 2007

The Four Types of Husbands for Successful Writers

Eileen Dreyer has entertained thousands of readers of mysteries and romance. But if you spend any time with her in person, you’ll find she’s deadly funny on the subject of writing and writers. The Lipstick Chronicles prevailed upon her to tell us her theories of the four types of husband of successful writers while she wasn’t out promoting her newest suspense paperback, SINNERS AND SAINTS.

The Four Types of Husbands for Successful Writers

By Eileen Dreyer

These are the four types of husbands seen with successful (meaning still employed) women writers. It started out being romance writers, but tracks right across into other genres. Husbands have been known to move from type to type, also. Unfortunately, more often in the
wrong direction. Ahem!

Husband Type 1: The Love Husband

Tends to show up after his wife has made her money. Has questionable background (membership in an heretofore unknown Indian nation or the Israeli Mossad is a favorite), even more questionable artistic talent, which the wife funds.

I do have pressings of one singing "between a rock and a hard place" in his leather thong. Finally, she sees the light and pulls the plug after catching him plugging one of the guests at a fan conference. We think one author killed and ate her husband after they procreated.

Husband Type 2: "Our Success"

He considers the career – created, managed and maintained by the wife – to belong to both of them. It is "our" agent, "our" contracts, "our" bestseller.

"Our Success" can often be seen shilling wife's work at conferences (I know this is completely unfamiliar to you guys), is particularly adept at shooting wife's career in the foot by interfering, insulting and aggravating every professional in her life. Truly the most uncomfortable of husbands, since at any publishing function he tends to stick to you like dogshit to your shoe.

And if the wife’s obnoxious, they tag team.

Husband Type 3: Mr. Threatened

He is so threatened by his wife's success and growing independence, that he either runs away --either physically or mentally – or becomes abusive.

Remember that the vast majority of us came to writing as a second or third career; moreover, our success was unexpected – at least by the husband. We've actually lost two romance authors to murder.

Husband Type 4: Mr. Perfect

I’m not exaggerating. He is perfect. He is supportive, supporting, at least as delighted as his wife by her success, his ego is completely separate from her success or lack thereof, he is a great help and the best cheerleader in the world. Okay, he will complain on occasion about the laundry not being done. But he doesn't mind being called Mr. Kathleen Korbel. In fact, he thinks it's a
kick in the head.

The really odd thing is that we realized that most of these guys bear a startling resemblance. I swear to God. They are mostly fair complected – light brown, red or blonde hair – medium to big build, and have what my editor calls "that cute pinchability" where you just want to take their cheeks and go "wudgy wudgy wudgy." Facial hair is optional.

Moreover, these men tend to fall into left brain careers: engineers, computer experts, chemists, etc. They tend to be much happier handling the practical side of the couple's life. If they partner with their wives to help with their businesses, they are excellent associates. They stick to no one’s shoes, but are remembered fondly by all they meet.

There is no known bridge between the first three husbands and Type 4. There is just this giant chasm. I've seen a couple of Type 3s make the climb to 4s, but I've never seen a 4 fall backwards into any other category.

And there you have it. I'm thinking of doing a paper for American Psychology.

November 12, 2006

Sneak Preview

By Elaine Viets

I’m delighted that my new book, HIGH HEELS ARE MURDER, will be discussed by the Heart of Tartness book club this Wednesday, November 15. OK, it’s true I know all the Tarts, since the book club is part of the Lipstick Chronicles. But I didn’t do any serious arm-twisting or anything. Well, I didn’t have to pay.

Anyway, for our link of the week, here’s a sneak preview of the cover and the first chapter: http://www.elaineviets.com/pages/novels/high_heels.asp

What do you think of the cover? I love those little knives in the shoes. Gives new meaning to "stiletto heels."

Barbara Peters’ The Poisoned Pen made HIGH HEELS one of the top ten paperbacks for November, along with Sarah Strohmeyer’s latest Bubbles’ mystery, BUBBLES ALL THE WAY. Check it out under Recommended Reading: http://www.poisonedpen.com/

If you want to read more than the first chapter, you can buy HIGH HEELS ARE MURDER, as well as Sarah’s book, at The Poisoned Pen or other mystery bookstores, including the one closest to my home, Murder on the Beach in Delray Beach. http://www.murderonthebeach.com/pages/fl_authors_details.asp?AuthorID=26

See you Wednesday.

November 11, 2006

Bubbles--All The Way!

While Sarah's making an undoubtedly distinguished appearance

                                          Go to fullsize image

at the New England Crime Bake, the Tarts are here to shamelessly plug the publication of BUBBLES ALL THE WAY.  No kidding, it's a hoot of a read with a blockbuster ending.  (If you're a mystery writer with a series character and you're wondering what you might be able to get away with---hooobaby, you need to read this book!)

To give you a taste, here's an excerpt. 

Romantic Times made the book a Top Pick! which we would prove by linking to the review, but it's not available unless you subscribe to the magazine--and even if you do, getting the website to allow you to see the review is a task Margie was too busy to accomplish before her hot date last night. Ahem.

Anyway, isn't this a cool cover?  Bubbles All The Way Cover  So hip.  So Tart-ish.

Don't forget:  On Wednesday, we're holding a meeting of the Heart of Tartness Book Club and reading Elaine's HIGH HEELS ARE MURDER.  So while you're in the mood for witty mysteries, pick up a copy of BUBBLES ALL THE WAY.  Perfect for that pre-Thanksgiving weekend of relaxing reading.  Next week we'll talk turkey.

Meanwhile:  Go to fullsize image

November 08, 2006

Which Child Do You Love the Most?

By Elaine Viets

Readers always ask, "Which of your books is your favorite?"

My answer is: "Which of your children do you love best?"

My tenth mystery, HIGH HEELS ARE MURDER, came out yesterday, and I still can’t decide which one I love best.

My first Dead-End Job mystery, SHOP TILL YOU DROP, should be my favorite. The book is now in its eighth printing. It got me out of debt. I certainly loved that part. I came to love SHOP’s bimbo characters. I had to spend time with real bimbos to write that book, and I learned that these women are smart. Maybe not in any way you would admire, but I’d never call them stupid.

What about MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS? I worked at a bookstore for a full year to write that novel. Bookselling was the one job I’d do for real. I feel better surrounded by books. I enjoyed matching readers with just the right book. I liked working with book lovers.

DYING TO CALL YOU was the job I hated most. I worked as a telemarketer. Telemarketing "boiler rooms" are modern sweatshops. We worked split shifts – 9 A.M. to 1 P.M. and 5 P.M. to 9 P.M., with a five-minute break every hour. The office was filthy. We shared broken desks sticky with spilled soda. It was a horrible job, but I loved that book, because I learned so much.

Nobody ever says, "I want to be a telemarketer when I grow up." People are forced into that job by debt, divorce, disease and dire circumstances. One woman was trying to pay medical bills for a grandchild who had a catastrophic illness and not enough insurance.

I learned most Americans have two sets of manners: one for people in their own class, and another for the downtrodden. I was surprised how many "nice" people enjoy being mean to those who don’t count in their world.

JUST MURDERED was set at a wedding dress shop, where people spent a quarter of a million dollars on weddings. Sex, major money and high emotion are a volatile combination. I wondered why there weren’t more murders during the nuptials.

I should love MURDER UNLEASHED the most. That was my first hardcover mystery. I thoroughly enjoyed working in the dog boutique. Dog lovers are a delight compared with telemarketing clients. But I didn’t love this one more than my other books.

My Josie Marcus mystery shopper series should have been my stepchild. I didn’t ask to write this series. My publisher came up with the idea. I jumped at the opportunity. My mother was a mystery shopper and I grew up in the business. She shopped with her best friend, just like Josie shops with her friend, Alyce.

But this series was more difficult to write. Josie is a single mom with a nine-year-old daughter. I had no children, so I had to borrow a friend’s kid to find out about girls that age. The result was DYING IN STYLE.

Now my new book, HIGH HEELS ARE MURDER, is out. In this mystery, Josie encounters suburban scandal, housewife gambling – and toe cleavage. I liked the offbeat information I discovered.

Do you know women with gambling problems may be discriminated against? Because they often prefer slots and similar games, they are dismissed as "granny gamblers" and their problems are not taken as seriously as poker-playing men.

Do I love this book the best? I love that it’s done.

But I love all my books. Not equally, but differently. I hope you will, too.

****

Join me here at the Lipstick Chronicles next Wednesday, Nov. 16, for the Heart of Tartness Book Blub discussion of HIGH HEELS ARE MURDER.

September 13, 2006

Ban More Books

By Elaine Viets

When I was growing up, I carried the Bible in my book bag. I kept it by my bed at night. My mother was delighted to find her quiet A-student in religious study.

Good thing Mom didn’t look any closer. I wasn’t reading the Bible. I was deep into a banned book, which I’d hidden behind a Bible cover.

I grew up in the 1960s, which were really the 1950s in Florissant, Missouri. My church and my parents had long lists of forbidden books.

I read them all.

Many of the books banned when I was a kid are still under fire, according to the American Library Association.

Banned Books Week is September 23-30. Schools and libraries can’t stop pulling classics like "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," "The Catcher in the Rye" and "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl." They’ve added shelves of new titles to the banned list, from the whole Harry Potter series to books by Judy Blume and Maya Angelou.

Most books are banned for the finest reasons: to keep young minds unsullied by impure thoughts and bad language.

Please keep banning books. Yes, it’s wrong. It’s evil. It’s arrogant and un-American. But it’s the best way to get kids to read.

I believe in banned books. Here’s what they did for me:

(1) Banned books made me question authority.

How could any adult believe "The Grapes of Wrath" promoted Communism? That was the excuse my church gave for banning John Steinbeck. Once I read that novel, I knew the authorities were dead wrong. I figured they had to be wrong about other things, too. I was on the slippery slope to independent thinking.

(2) Banned books improved my mind.

Steinbeck, J.D. Salinger, Mark Twain, Harper Lee – I read all these banned classics. If a teacher had ordered me to read "Madame Bovary," I would have whined it was boring. Fortunately, it was banned. I reveled in every adulterous word.

(3) Banned books made me resourceful.

Or sneaky. Depends on how you look at it. I went to great lengths to conceal my beloved banned books. I read them by flashlight late at night, with a throw rug stuffed under my bedroom door.

Even the most trusting parent gets suspicious when a kid reads the Bible too much (some of those begats are pretty graphic), so I brought home piles of "age appropriate" books, such as "Little Women." They were good, but they lacked the zing of a banned book.

(4) Banned books made me strong.

Some of those suckers, especially the gloomier Brits and Russians, weighed several pounds. Hauling around weighty novels gave me real muscle.

(5) Banned books made me rebellious.

Banning books led me to more dangerous things, like racing semis on I-70 in Daddy’s Pontiac 444. Yes, there is a connection. Thanks to banned books, I thought rules were stupid, even good rules. After all, the same people who banned books made speed-limit laws.

My parents never guessed that their angelic A-student was having high-speed races on the interstate. I was lucky. The message in some of those banned books finally got through: I wasn’t immortal. I could wind up dead as any doomed heroine, if I didn’t take my foot off the gas pedal.

Don’t get the idea I only improved my mind under cover of that Bible. I read plenty of banned novels with no redeeming social value, including "Peyton Place" and "Valley of the Dolls." I didn’t always understand the sex, but I enjoyed the thrill of the forbidden.

Banned books were irresistible. I couldn’t stop reading them.

Banned books made me what I am today.

Think about that, next time you want to yank a book out of a kid’s hands.

****

NOTE: For more information about books that have been banned or challenged, check out the American Library Association at www.ala.org/ala/oif/bannedbooksweek/bannedbooksweek.htm 

September 07, 2006

Nancy Pickard

Hi, there. I’m Nancy Pickard, and a mystery writer. Elaine, Nancy, Harley Jane and Sarah have kindly invited me to share their podium. Thanks, guys, and hello to everybody who’s reading this. And now, I’m going to tell you about a time when I was not, metaphorically, wearing any lipstick at all. Here’s my chronicle of a moment of unadorned truth . . .

*

If you ever have an unaccountable urge to feel stupid, try writing an advice book for writers, and then forget to follow your own advice. The book I wrote with psychologist Lynn Lott was Seven Steps on the Writer’s Path, and the step I forgot was Step One. Now why do you suppose I would do that?

Could it be because the name and substance of it is, Unhappiness?

Why, yes, I think we have a clue there, don’t you?

When it comes to avoiding the grittier parts of writing, and getting stuck because of that, I am no better than a brand new writer. The only advantage I have is that when I finally recognize the fix I’m in, I have so much experience that I’m not scared to do the things that may help me get out of it.

Take this past December, January, and February of my writing life, for instance.

In November, I started a new book, and it was going great. I wrote all the way up to the morning of Christmas Eve, and then I stopped, because, well, I hadn’t done any shopping yet. But I thought, "no problem. I’ll just start writing again the day after Christmas." It was going so well; surely a tiny interruption of just a couple of days wouldn’t stop the irresistible flow of words.

Seven weeks later, having written not one more word, I was beginning to get . . . nervous.

"How’s the book coming?" my non-writer friends were asking me.

"Fine," I told them, "fine" being writer code for, "not."

Writer friends knew better than to ask.

And then one day I had a vague memory of having written a book that purported to be able to help writers get over blocks.

Oh, yeah, and what was that first step?

Unhappiness.

Right at the moment of feeling like an idiot, I realized I was avoiding my own best advice, which was to let myself actually feel how unhappy I was about not writing. I was pretty sure why I had avoided doing so: I didn’t want the thoughts that preceded the feelings. They were thoughts like, "There’s no character for readers to love," and "I can’t find the heart of it," and, "I don’t know what happens in the middle." I didn’t have any answers to those problems, and so I had been squelching them, along with the feelings that flavored them.

Fortunately, I have enough experience to know that if I will let myself feel the true, painful depth of my unhappiness at that moment, it may only last for a little while, because once it’s truly felt, it will shoot me out to the other side of it.

So I took a breath and did it, stupid feelings, tears and all.

Less than twenty-four hours later, I had an epiphany about the book.

An idea for a major character came to me, and I realized he was the missing link that I’d been waiting for. With a sense of happiness and relief, I began to think about him, about his place in the story, about possible scenes with him.

And thus did I finally manage to navigate the first step again.

Gee, somebody ought to write an advice book about all this.

July 26, 2006

You Killed Him

By Elaine Viets

"I’m so upset," a mystery lover told me. "My favorite series has been cancelled. I love his work."

She named a writer I’ll call John D. Christie.

"I have all his books," she said. "Now there won’t be any more. It’s so sad."

"Where did you buy his books?" I already knew the answer.

"At that cute used bookstore near the tea shop. Why?"

"You killed him," I said.

She looked shocked.

"I know you didn’t mean to, but every time you bought a used book, you put a nail in his career coffin."

"But I heard John D. speak at the library. He said he didn’t care where we got his books, as long as we read them."

"We all say that. We’re too polite to tell the truth: ‘Thanks for buying my books used. I love not getting royalties.’ "

"Oh," she said. "I didn’t think about that."

"Here’s something else you didn’t think about. John D.’s publisher looked at his sales figures and cancelled the series. Used book sales don’t count. John’s series was killed because he didn’t sell enough paperback originals."

The publishing news has been particularly depressing lately. A critically-acclaimed writer was told by her editor to write a new series – under another name. An award-winning author’s series is on hiatus. He’s writing a standalone. Two hardcover authors I know are now writing paperback originals. And paperback original authors are getting dropped.

The reason? Not enough sales.

I know you can’t buy every book new. I sure can’t. I read four or five mysteries a week, and I’d go broke buying them all.

But if you can’t afford to buy new, do the next best thing: Get them at your library. That way, the author will have some sales.

Writers are an endangered species. Only you can save us. Here are some things you can do:

(1) Don’t share books.

We love it when you talk up your favorite authors. But make your friends get their own

books. You know you won’t get your signed copy back – not without coffee stains. Besides, your friends can afford a seven-dollar paperback. They get hours of entertainment for less than a double latte.

If they can’t buy the book, there’s always the library. Or give them store gift cards for birthdays and holidays. The books they’ll buy will always fit them.

(2) Don’t send books.

These words make writers wince: "I loved your new paperback. I sent my copy to my mother in Seattle. She gave it to her sister in Springfield, who sent it to her daughter in New York."

You’ve spent nearly five dollars to mail a seven-dollar book.

(3) Don’t buy ARCs.

Authors hate Advance Reading Copies. Reviewers get ARCs so they can write about the books before they hit the stores. Booksellers get ARCs as a selling tool.

When you buy an ARC, you don’t get the book that’s sold in the stores. An ARC is riddled with typos. It’s not supposed to be sold. The first clue is that "Not for Sale" on the cover.

Unfortunately, plenty of ARCs wind up on eBay. When you buy them, you deprive your favorite author of a book sale. Eventually, you’ll deprive yourself of a favorite author.

Here’s something else writers love to hear: "I bought your hardcover used online for five bucks. That’s cheaper than the paperback."

And you wonder why your favorite hardcover author is suddenly in paperback? Your bargain cost that author his career.

Can you buy any books secondhand?

Sure. Any writer in the top ten on the New York Times bestseller list. You aren’t going to hurt Dan Brown, James Patterson or John Grisham. Pass their used books around to all your friends. Mail them from San Diego to Saskatoon.

Buy dead authors’ books used. Agatha Christie is long past caring if you buy her books new.

But if you want to keep reading the rest of us, buy our books new.

Don’t love us to death.

July 19, 2006

Seven Semi-Serious Questions about Writing

By Elaine Viets

The Internet is abuzz with authors handing out useless, outdated and downright wrong information about writing. Why should the Lipstick Chronicles be any different? In the next few weeks, our mystery writers will take a stab at these literary questions.

(1) What was your worst mistake?

I didn’t have a lawyer go over my first agent’s contract. I was so thrilled to get a big-time agent, I signed it.

A year later, when the agent hadn’t sold anything and didn’t answer my letters, I wanted out of the contract. That’s when I went to a lawyer. I found out the agent was entitled to commissions on all my work "in perpetuity" – whether he’d sold it or not.

It took $2000 in legal bills to get out of that contract. It would have only cost a couple hundred if I’d gone to a lawyer in the first place.

That agent has gone to his reward (I hope he’s somewhere even hotter than South Florida) and can’t do you any harm. But there are plenty of scams for unwary writers, including agents who recommend dubious "editorial services" and rake off tidy commissions

If you’re thinking about signing with an agent, check out Predators & Editors, a site every professional writer should bookmark.

http://www.anotherealm.com/prededitors/peala.htm

Want to know how an ethical literary agent should behave? Check out the Association of Authors’ Representatives at

http://www.aar-online.org/mc/page.do

My agent belongs to AAR, but he made me swear on my next royalty check that I won’t reveal his name.

Want to know how a real literary agent thinks? Read Miss Snark’s blog at

http://misssnark.blogspot.com/>

(2) What advice do you wish someone had given you?

Keep reinventing yourself.

If you want a long-term career in publishing, you’ll have highs and lows. There’s a good chance your series will be dropped, you’ll be asked to write a stand-alone or start a second series.

Don’t cling to your first character as if you’ll never invent another. Embrace change. You’re a creative writer. Remember, they’re killing your series, not you.

(3) Who told you you'd never be published, and what would you like to do/say to them now?

A college English teacher gave me a C on an essay. He said I should give up writing because I had no talent. The prof turned out dusty academic prose but fancied himself a "popular writer" because he reviewed for the local paper. Gossip said he was looking for a New York publisher, but they weren’t looking for him.

When my first hardcover, MURDER UNLEASHED, tied with Harlan Coben on the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association list, I wanted to send the prof a copy.

But that would be petty.

I have only three words to say to him: Neener, neener, neener.

(4) If you could steal ideas from someone, who would it be?

Sue Grafton.

(5) Commas -- does anyone really care anymore?

I love commas. They’re the cashews of punctuation. I sprinkle them generously throughout my work. The copy editors at my publishing house regard them as cockroaches, and ruthlessly stamp them out.

(6) What do you do when your career isn't going well?

Whine and blame the publisher.

(7) If you could start all over again, what would you do?

Everything right.

This time, I would understand that writing is a business as well as an art.

The first time, I thought when I turned in my novel, my work was done. Now I know it’s just started.

I didn’t have a marketing plan. I didn’t know what my sell-through was. I didn’t visit enough bookstores. I didn’t go to the big mystery conventions until after my book came out. And when I did go, I attended all the panels and avoided the bar.

I learned everything the hard way.

July 12, 2006

The Devil Wears Aerosoles

The Devil Wears Aerosoles

By Elaine Viets

I tried, folks. I really tried to feel sorry for the twenty-something assistant to the evil boss in "The Devil Wears Prada." After all, I am the queen of the lousy job. I’ve worked more low-paying jobs than I can count for my Dead-End Job mystery series.

In "The Devil Wears Prada," poor Andrea Sachs has the boss from hell at "Runway" magazine. The novel details the cruelties she endured. Andrea was forced to drive her boss’s $84,000 Porsche convertible, and she couldn’t handle a stick shift. She had to wear loaner designer clothes and shoes and not wreck them. Andrea had makeup and hair stylists to keep her looking good. And this took place in Manhattan. Oh, and her boss was crazy-mean.

I wanted to bleed for poor Andrea, but all I could think was: what a whiner.

Try being trapped with a crazy-mean boss in the Midwest. No $84,000 sports car there. No fear, either. We Midwestern women know how to drive a stick. I started street racing at sixteen.

No fabulous parties or weekends in the Hamptons. In the Midwest, on an assistant’s salary, your entertainment choices include getting drunk at a bar, getting a video, or getting a pizza.

Designer clothes for insignificant assistants? What a fairytale. In the Midwest, the Devil wears Aerosoles. And shops at Marshalls. At least my Devil Boss did. She thought Prada was a city in Poland.

She might be a frump in New York, but my Devil Boss destroyed careers with style. She knew we were stuck. There were miles of cornfields between us and the next good job.

Here’s what life is like when you’re twenty-two and the Devil wears Aerosoles.

One day I wore a red dress to work. "Oh, Elaine," the Devil Boss bawled in our nearly all-male office. "I saw a survey that women wear red when they’re having their period. Is that true?"

I wished I had a snappy comeback. But I was young. I turned as red as my dress.

The company sent me to New York for business. I was shocked by the prices and tried to cut my expenses. When I turned in my expense account, the Devil Boss called me into her office.

"I can’t accept this." She slapped the expense account on her desk.

"What’s wrong?" I was terrified. I’d lived on bagels to save money, but I knew she’d attack.

"You didn’t spend enough money," she said. "You’ll make the men look bad."

The Devil Boss ordered me to pad my expense account to save the guys swilling martinis at the Four Seasons. She protected and promoted her "boys."

A few weeks later, I was called on the carpet again for my expense account.

"Why did you put down ten miles for the trip to the Berner Corporation?" the Devil Boss said. "It can’t be more than six miles."

"I got lost in the one-way streets," I said.

"We don’t pay you to get lost," the Devil Boss said. "Take four miles off."

Like the devil boss in "Prada," mine had more mood swings than the kid in "The Exorcist." She was scariest when she was nice. Then I knew she was plotting something. I just didn’t know what.

"Oh, Elaine," she said. "You have such good ideas. Would you make a list of your future projects?"

Now, I’d turn in a dummy list. Back then, I dutifully wrote down my best ideas. She retyped them, gave them to the top boss, and got herself a promotion.

The Devil Boss lasted for years, creating a swirl of intrigue, accusations and insults. She drove off the best people – or at least the ones who weren’t tied down with debts and family obligations. They found better jobs in other cities, including New York.

Others hit the bottle. A brave few tried to tell management the truth about this terrible woman. They were stunned when they realized the bosses knew she was awful. They liked her that way.

Eventually, as profits and productivity sank, management changed. The Devil Boss was given a dreadful punishment. She had to work with the peons.

The Devil Boss taught me two valuable lessons:

(1) A woman can discriminate against women.

I’m amazed when people say, "It can’t be discrimination. The boss is a woman."

The courts don’t buy that. But people who should know better maintain a touching faith in sisterhood. Men cheerfully sell out their brothers for money, power, or even the pathetic approval of a higher up. The Devil Boss showed me women were equally eager for success.

(2) Dumb corporations do not get smart.

The Devil Boss was replaced by a Preppie Prince, then a Bubba Boss, then a succession of nameless losers. The customer base hit the skids, the company was sold, and the owners made millions.

I’ll say one thing: The company didn’t practice sexism when they chose their managers. All those bosses, male and female, were equally bad.

June 21, 2006

For Men Only

By Elaine Viets

It’s tough to define an award-winning thriller, but the new International Thriller Writers has succeeded:

It’s anything written by a man.

That’s not what it says on the ITW Website. That tells us, "Thrillers provide a rich literary feast – the legal thriller, the spy thriller, the action-adventure thriller, the medical thriller, the police thriller, the romantic thriller, the historical thriller, the political thriller, the religious thriller, the high-tech thriller, the supernatural thriller. The list goes on and on, with new variations being invented constantly. This openness to creation and expansion is one of the field’s characteristics."

Unfortunately, the plums at this literary feast are served to men only. For the first ITW Thriller Awards, every single novel nominee is a man.

Best Novel – five men.

Best First Novel – five men.

Best Paperback Original – five men.

And the winners of these Thriller Awards?

No surprise there: They’re all going to be men.

So is the recipient of the first ITW Life-Time Achievement Award.

Don’t get me wrong. Some of the men nominated wrote first-rate, critically acclaimed novels. Other male nominees made you wonder where the judges stored their craniums.

That’s typical of almost any award nominee list.

What isn’t typical is that the ITW nominees were exclusively male. Even the Mystery Writers of America, an organization justly criticized for male bias in its Edgar Awards, is moving past that. Ironically, this year it nominated a thriller by Tess Gerritsen for an Edgar.

The ITW makes MWA look like a NOW meeting.

Consider a few of the women who submitted novels for the ITW Awards and weren’t nominated:

Elizabeth Becka, Sallie Bissell, Alice Blanchard, Linda Fairstein, Alison Gaylin, Elizabeth George, Sue Grafton, Denise Hamilton, Kay Hooper, Val McDermid, Perri O’Shaughnessy, Sara Paretsky, Theresa Schwegel, Lisa Scottoline, Julie Smith, and the mother-daughter team of P.J. Tracy.

These women are the literary equals of any male ITW nominee. Alison Gaylin and Theresa Schwegel were both nominated for Edgar Awards this year, and Theresa won. The other rejected women have enough honors to fill this page.

I’m not friends with any of the above women. Most wouldn’t know me if I sat down beside them. I don’t write thrillers. But I like to read them. And I know women write some fine ones. So why weren’t any female authors nominated for their novels?

One ITW judge was "dismayed" over the absence of women authors on the nominee list, but wonders "if the problem wasn’t sexism so much as the definition – or lack of it – of a thriller."

The MWA has a short, sweet definition of a mystery for its Edgar judges: "A work of fiction in which a crime is the central element."

On its Website, ITW co-presidents David Morrell and Gayle Lynds spent more than 500 words struggling with: "What is a thriller?"

"What gives thrillers common ground is the intensity of the emotions they create, particularly those of apprehension and exhilaration, of excitement and breathlessness," they wrote. "By definition, if a thriller does not thrill, it is not doing its job."

But we all get our thrills in different ways. Apparently, women writers did not thrill enough ITW judges.

Co-president David Morrell’s list of 70 "Must-Read Thrillers" on the ITW Website includes Edgar Rice Burroughs’ "Tarzan of the Apes" and Oscar Wilde’s "The Picture of Dorian Gray."

If Oscar Wilde wrote a thriller, so did every woman on the ITW reject list.

The dismayed judge said, "Maybe the judges, when faced with trying to figure out just what a thriller was, were too quick to rely on the dick-lit cliches that have always dominated the genre – car chases, boy-banter, phallic guns and exploding stuff. Maybe instead of narrowing their focus, they should have been broadening it to reflect the rich diversity of what is called a thriller today."

There’s another problem with the ITW contest. Board members such as Tess Gerritsen cannot submit their own books, and that’s commendable. But ITW does permit reviewers to serve as judges. Many media companies ban their reviewers from judging, because the press should not create the news.

Many organizations, including MWA, do not permit reviewers to be judges. Reviewers have already judged the novels in the media. Besides, why submit a book to a committee when the judge has publicly panned it?

Consider something else co-president Morrell said about his "Must-Read Thrillers" list:

"You’ll note that there are far more male than female authors on the list. This imbalance is due to a publishing prejudice that for many years was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Editors felt that women couldn’t convincingly dramatize sensational plots . . . In turn, women avoided writing in the field because they couldn’t overcome the bigotry."

Uh, Mr. Co-President, bigotry is alive and well. And this time, you can’t blame the publishers.

Why didn’t the ITW see any problem with The Thriller Awards?

I could ask the organization for an explanation. But the nominee list speaks for itself.

This isn’t the International Thriller Awards. It’s the International Men’s Thriller Awards.

Skip the rubber-chicken banquet, boys, and make it a real guy event.

Cigars, beer and burgers in the bar – served by the ITW Ladies’ Auxiliary.