TATTOOS AND THE LIMITS OF RESEARCH: Guest Post by Clea Simon

CLEA SIMON: Tattoos and the Limits of Research 

She rubs her thumb over the F clef on her wrist. A reminder, faded now, of what she had. The cost … 

Gal Raver, my protagonist, has a tattoo of an F clef on the inside of her wrist. It’s an old tattoo, faded blue, but whenever she sees it, it reminds her of one of her former bandmates – as it is supposed to. Those memories are a part of who she is – and they’re key to the mysteries at the heart of Hold Me Down. This new, dark book centers on a murder of one of Gal’s old colleagues and the question of why the accused, another old friend, is refusing to defend himself from the charges. To get to the heart of that, and maybe save her old friend, Gal has to delve into her own checkered past, to look back on the life she led as a wild-child rock and roller and the damage she inflicted along the way. 

To write this dark psychological suspense, I – like Gal – had to re-immerse myself in the Boston rock scene of decades past. An era when women like my bassist protagonist were making music, and their own way, in a male-dominated world in part by proving themselves as tough as the men around them. 

So many of my friends back then were getting tattoos, an act that was still a little transgressive for a woman. J. got a Celtic braid as a bracelet – something she could hide with a watch when she went to visit her mother. K. originally intended to get a small goldfish on her shoulder, but the artist she went to create a gorgeous design that covered her shoulder blade. Before long, skin art became common. But for a few years there, ink defined a certain crew of rockers, so I knew Gal would have some. 

She’s certainly not alone. While researching Hold Me Down, I reached out to multiple sources. Musicians for the most part. Critics (like I was) and fanzine writers who had documented the scene and club personnel, from bookers and managers, the folks at the soundboard and behind the bar. And, of course, the fans who had made up the beating heart of the nocturnal world. I remembered a lot, and these conversations sparked more memories, and I also used a lot of what these people shared with me, even as I shaped it to work with my story, and with Gal’s. To make it, like the music, Gal’s own. 

I also wanted to get the legalities right – especially once Walter, Gal’s friend, is arrested. For that, I reached out to my old roommate, Susan, now a law school dean. She put me in touch with a professor who specialized in this aspect of criminal law, and who could talk me through the steps from arraignment to trial and who let me try out various possibilities along the way. 

Professor Elizabeth Jones of the Western State College of Law even read a full draft of the book, once it was done, for which I am truly grateful. But her one critique, of a passage halfway through, surprised me. 

“An F clef,” she’d said, drawing one on his pad to make sure he understood. “Here.” 

“You sure?” His brows had gone up when she’d turned her arm over, revealing the soft, pale flesh of her wrist. “It’ll hurt.” “Good,” she’d said. 

“I have tattoos,” she told me. “And what that tattoo artist says to her? That would never happen.” 

“Not even when it’s on the underside of her wrist?” I may not have skin art, but I know how sensitive that area is. 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

I thought about this for a while. Liz had given me great information, solid feedback on the legal aspects of the book. And then I remembered what she didn’t yet know – that this was Gal’s story, and that what we learn of Gal’s memories may not always reflect what happened. Instead, the stories she shares show us who she was and who she became. Where, in other words, it hurts. 

***

A former journalist, Clea Simon is the Boston Globe-bestselling author of three nonfiction books and 29 mysteries. including the new psychological suspense HOLD ME DOWN. While most of these (like A Cat on the Case) are cat “cozies” or amateur sleuth, she also writes darker crime fiction, like the rock and roll mystery World Enough, named a “must read” by the Massachusetts Book Awards. Her new psychological suspense Hold Me Down (Polis Books) returns to the music world, with themes of PTSD and recovery, as well as love in all its forms. She can be reached at www.cleasimon.com, on Twitter @Clea_Simon and on Instagram @cleasimon_author 

 

Patrick Williams: R.I.P.

From FilmMusicReporter and Variety:

Patrick Williams (1939-2018)

Patrick Williams, who was best-known for his Emmy-winning television music but who was also a renowned and Grammy-winning big-band jazz leader and arranger, died Wednesday morning of complications from cancer at St. John’s Hospital in Santa Monica, Calif. He was 79.

The composer scored numerous features, TV shows, and television movies over a five decade-spanning career. Among his feature film credits are John Water’s 1990 comedy Cry-Baby, the 1992 drama The Cutting Edge, Robert Zemeckis’ Used Cars, Richard Donner’s 1982 film The Toy,  and Richard Lester’s Cuba. He received an Academy Award nomination for his music adaptation for Peter Yates’ 1979 movie Breaking Away. His TV scoring credits include The Streets of San Francisco, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, The Bob Newhart Show and Columbo. Williams received 4 Emmy Awards (for Lou Grant, The Princess and the Cabbie, 1992’s Jewels and a song for 2000’s Yesterday’s Children) and 22 Emmy nominations. He also was honored with two Grammy Awards (and 19 Grammy nomination) and BMI’s Richard Kirk Award.

HT: J. Kingston Pierce

Larry Karp: R.I.P.

Sad News. Larry Karp, the author of many music mysteries passed away on October 21. I was privileged to know Larry for many years. He wrote several articles for Mystery Readers Journal, including "A Wide Canvas" for the New York City I issue of MRJ this year and "Books and Music, Music and Books for the Music Mysteries issue. I loved his enthusiasm, his love of mysteries, his music boxes, his knowledge of music, and his way with words. He will be missed.

From the Puget Sound Sisters in Crime Website:

Although Larry lived in the Seattle [Washington] area for much of his life, he grew up in [Paterson] New Jersey, as one might have guessed from the slight accent he retained. He began his career as a physician, specializing in high-risk and complicated pregnancies. He founded the Prenatal Diagnostic Center at the University of Washington as well as the Department of Perinatal Medicine at Swedish Medical Center. Residents of the Family Practice Programs at both Swedish and Providence hospitals voted him Teacher of the Year.

For years, Larry wrote articles for medical journals as well as three non-fiction works, two of which dealt with medicine and one that explored his passion for antique music boxes.

When Larry retired from medicine in 1995 he plunged into writing the mystery novels he loved, producing both standalones and two series; the Music-Box Mysteries and a trilogy of Ragtime mysteries. They are not only beautifully written, but meticulously researched. To the delight of many, he also authored a children’s book dedicated to his grandson Simon and illustrated by his friend Vic Hugo. Seymour’s First Clarinet Concerto exemplifies Larry’s versatility as a writer. He recently completed a historical biography of Brun Campbell (Brun Campbell: The Original Ragtime Kid) and the book dearest to his heart—a mystery co-authored with his son Casey Karp. The Ragtime Traveler will be available in April 2017.

HT: The Rap Sheet 

Listen to the Music: Guest post by Paul D. Marks

Paul D. Marks is the author of the Shamus Award-Winning noir mystery-thriller White Heat. Publishers Weekly calls White Heat a “taut crime yarn.” His story Howling at the Moon (EQMM 11/14) was short-listed for both the 2015 Anthony and Macavity Awards for Best Short Story, and came in #7 in Ellery Queen’s Reader’s Poll Award. Midwest Review calls Vortex, Paul’s noir novella, “…a nonstop staccato action noir.” His story Deserted Cities of the Heart appears in Akashic’s St. Louis Noir. And Ghosts of Bunker Hill will be in the December, 2016 Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine.

Paul D. Marks:
Listen to the Music 

Music has been an influence on me since my dad called me into the family room (only we called it a den back then) to watch four mop-topped guys on the Ed Sullivan show. So it makes sense that, one way or another, music influences or at the very least insinuates its way into my writing.

 I also never liked the name Paul…until February, 1964, when the Beatles first came on Ed Sullivan. After that, it magically transformed into a great name. Because of the Beatles I wanted to play guitar and because of that other Paul, I wanted to play bass guitar.

And when I was young (a great song by Eric Burdon and the Animals by the way), I really only liked rock ‘n’ roll. But my dad—a very powerful personality—liked swing and classical. Loved Benny Goodman in particular. So when we were in the car he would put on those stations and I would cringe and beg him to put on rock. Sometimes he’d give in, often not. But a funny thing happened on the way to adulthood, or in young adulthood, I began to enjoy swing and classical music too. Partly because I liked movies from the 30s and 40s, which were filled with that music, but also partly because I had been exposed to them, albeit unwillingly, as a kid. So I was already familiar with them. I even got so into it that that my friend Linda and I would go around LA to see some of the “old time” swing bands and performers, who were still around and still performing. The highlight of those trips was seeing the Glenn Miller Orchestra, led by Tex Beneke, with Helen O’Connell and Bob Eberly (formerly of the Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra) singing the songs they made famous, Brazil and Tangerine (which shows up in the film Double Indemnity).

So now, as a writer, all of this music infuses my work and characters. Music is a big part of my writing, helping express character and mood, though sometimes music can be difficult to express in a “two-dimensional” medium. Also, many of my story titles come from song titles.

My character, P.I. Duke Rogers (from my novel White Heat, set in the 1990s), listens to a variety of new wave and alternative music, everything from k.d. lang to Portis Head and even some Eric Clapton. (Gee, I wonder how he came by those traits? Maybe ’cause I like those artists?) His less open and less tolerant partner, Jack, only listens to classical and cowboy (not country) music, which he thinks are the only pure/legitimate forms of music (and I like those genres too). He calls Duke’s music “space case” music in Broken Windows, the coming sequel to White Heat. But the music isn’t there only to help define their characters. I use their musical tastes to highlight the difference between the two characters and their contrasting personalities.

In several of my stories, music is part of the characters’ lives. Ray Hood, in Dead Man’s Curve (from Last Exit to Murder), is a frustrated musician who has lost his ability to play and is aimless and foundering without it. He once played with Jan and Dean and the Beach Boys on the road—his claim to fame—and is trying for a comeback. He gets a chance to do a favor for an old friend by driving his classic car up the coast, playing music on the iPod, but things go wrong. Very wrong. But the music sets the mood, everything from Surfer Girl by the Beach Boys to Sober Driver by Dengue Fever.

In Born Under a Bad Sign (published in the Noir Blues issue of Dave Zeltserman’s HardLuck Stories), the main character listens to blues and in particular the old Albert King version of the song Born Under a Bad Sign, whose title is emblematic of the character’s life. From the story, “An Albert King CD played in the background, Born Under a Bad Sign. King sang about how his life had been one big fight since he learned to crawl. The music rang in Kit's ears: If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all. Oh yeah, Kit knew all about bad luck and the blues, didn't he.”

More recently, in Deserted Cities of the Heart (from Akashic’s St. Louis Noir), the main character dreams of owning a Gibson Flying V guitar, like Albert King’s, and heading out on Route 66 to escape the boredom and safety and security of his hometown. And that guitar plays a special part in the story.

Besides, the music in the stories, I often play music in the background to help me get in the mood for what I’m writing. I have a work in progress set on the LA homefront during WWII. The main character, who’s been in three published stories, is a hot jazz musician, so I’ll play swing and big band music to set the mood. And, of course, the stories and novel are filled with the music of the era. Half the fun for me is listening to it and figuring out what songs work in the context of the stories. For the Duke Rogers sequel I might play alt rock or cowboy music. And I hope those moods come across in the writing. If I just want music that I enjoy and that helps me focus on my writing, I often play Baroque.

Today I’m listening to Benny Goodman and Duke Ellington and who knows what stories they might inspire or how it will affect what I’m working on right now. That’s one of the great things about music, it can inspire you in so many ways and bring out emotions, thoughts and feelings that we sometimes stifle in our everyday lives—and it can do the same for our characters. And remember, it don’t mean a thing if ain’t got that swing.