Man Of Many Hats

Michael Bracken wears many hats in the mystery field - novelist, editer, general agent provacateur for crime fiction, as well as being the vice president of the Short Mystery Fiction Society, but he's best known as the author and purveyor of stories that are nasty, brutish, and short. He recently sat down for an interview with Bleeker Books. Well, I assume he was sitting, as the interview was conducted via email.

You've been writing short fiction for many years - since your teens, I hear. Back then you were into science fiction and fantasy. What triggered the switch to crime fiction? Is there a particular book or author to blame?

Actually, there's an editor to blame.

I started writing science fiction and fantasy while in high school and began selling professionally before I left my teens. By 1982 I had established myself with a few sales to professional publications and a handful of sales to the semi-prozines.

In 1982, Ted Newsom, Managing Editor of Gentleman's Companion, returned the manuscript of one of my science fiction stories. The accompanying letter told me how much he liked the story, but noted that his publisher didn't like science fiction.

Some months earlier, I had written the opening scene of "City Desk," a story that clearly wasn't science fiction, and had set it aside. It was crime fiction. I finished the story, sent it to Ted, and he bought it. I wrote my second mystery short story and Ted bought it. I wrote my third. Ted didn't buy it, but Mike Shayne's Mystery Magazine did.

I quickly realized that limiting myself to a single genre might be a mistake and began writing in many genres.

(Ironically, a few years later Gentleman's Companion published the science fiction story Ted had returned. By then, the magazine had a different publisher and a different editor.)

So now we know who the culprit is. You are probably one of the most prolific active short story writers, publishing several hundred of them despite the conventional wisdom that the market for these stories is shrinking. How do you do it? And what's your take on the market and where it's headed?

A short story writer who works in a single genre is like a horse with blinders on--he sees only what's in front of him. My willingness and ability to write in multiple genres has allowed me to sell a great many short stories.

The downside to writing in multiple genres is my near-invisibility in many of them. I've placed somewhere between 700 and 800 pieces of short fiction over the years. Imagine if every one of those stories had been crime fiction.

The majority of my writing time is dedicated to writing short fiction. The more short stories I write, the easier they are to write. I also spend far less time revising my short fiction now than I did when I began writing. Writing is like learning to drive a car--it took every bit of my concentration while I started, but now I only have to think about the process when I slip into a different car or attempt a different genre.

I don't believe in writer's block. Ever heard of bricklayer's block or auto mechanic's block or ditch digger's block? Writer's block is just an excuse not to write. If I'm not writing it's because I choose not to write.

The best bit of advice I ever learned about maintaining high productivity came indirectly from Isaac Asimov. I saw a photograph of his office. He had a U-shaped desk with three Selectric typewriters arranged around the U. He said when he became bored with or was stuck on one project, he simply turned his chair and resumed work on a different project.

I do something similar. I have 30 or more short stories, a novel or two, and miscellaneous other writing projects in progress at any one time. I work on each story in fits and starts, but every project moves toward completion at its own pace. Some stories come out in a single sitting, most develop over a few months, but I've had stories take years from first line to finished manuscript.

I think top-paying markets are harder to find and harder to break into, but opportunities for new short story writers--especially those willing to pay their dues--are still quite good. The low cost of electronic publishing and print on demand publishing has allowed numerous small presses to develop at the bottom end of the market. These markets are hungry for material and the best of them rival traditionally published periodicals for quality.

Moving to the next level, though, takes a great deal of hard work. Not only do new writers have to write at the peak of their ability, they must also spend a great deal of time doing market research. Writing may be an art, but publishing is a business. New writers have to put time and energy into learning the business.

So, do different stories ever "bleed over" (ha), as it were, into other stories?

Absolutely. Some ideas are easily explored from multiple directions. For example, thinking about why people might be reluctant to attend their high school reunion generated a confession ("That Other Me My Husband Doesn't Know About") and a horror story ("Of Memories Dying"). I expanded "Of Memories Dying" into In The Town Of Dreams Unborn And Memories Dying, a gift book published in the U.K., which led to my writing "Dreams Unborn" a bit of crime fiction that serves as a stand-alone prequel to "Of Memories Dying." "Dreams Unborn" appears in Small Crimes.

It also leads to my having mutiple series characters. For example, Dan Fox appears in Deadly Campaign and two short stories. Nathaniel Rose will appear in his eighth story later this year. I've sold three Morris Ronald Boyette stories. I've sold three stories about a trio of grifters. And so on.

There are many very good web 'zines out there, but these sites don't generate much (any?) revenue. Do you think this will push down the rates for all short stories?

I doubt it. When I started writing, there were numerous fanzines printed on ditto machines and mimeographs and photocopiers. They generated little or no revenue for the publishers and they paid little or nothing to writers. They didn't drive pay rates down. Web zines are the modern equivalent.

I think the market for short fiction will continue to be diverse, from non-paying fan magazines and literary publications through low-paying small press and genre publications to high-paying commercial publications.

I understand that you usually start a story with just a bit of an idea, and make up the rest as you go along. Your output suggests you don't get stuck often. What do you do to avoid story problems?

Most of my stories begin with an opening line. I build the story from there.

I write until I get stuck, then move to a different project. On those days when I don't have any fresh ideas, I start opening files of stories in progress. I read what I've written. Usually, the next line or next scene pops into my head and I write until I'm stuck again. Then I move to the next story in progress and repeat the pattern. I may go through a dozen stories this way until one of them grabs my complete attention and I know exactly how the story ends and how to get to the ending.

Do you see any common themes in your stories?

When I put together my first few short story collections, I discovered two themes that I hadn't realized were present in my work.

I found that I often write about parent-child relationships and I often write about male-female relationships.

Yeah, your story, "All My Yesterdays" about a father and son is up for a Derringer award. You do a lot with just 500 words in that one. Do you have a favorite length for your stories?,

A great many of my stories fall in the 2,000- to 3,000-word range. I've found this length easy to write and easy to sell, across all genres.

Over the past few years you've become as well known as an editor as a writer, thanks to the Fedora series and the other anthologies you've put together. What prompted you to move to the other side of the desk?

There wasn't a good market for the type of stories I like to read and write--the type of crime fiction that's a little too extreme for most mystery publications due to theme, content, or language.

In mid-2000 I began a relationship with Wildside Press just as they were starting a new mystery and suspense line. After they'd released a few of my books, I pitched Fedora: Private Eyes And Tough Guys and they approved it without any hesitation.

Fedora has become an annual series, with the first Fedora in 2001, Fedora II in 2003, and Fedora III scheduled for release later this year. I'm currently reading for Fedora IV, scheduled for release in 2005.

I've also edited two freestanding crime fiction anthologies, Hardbroiled (2003) and Small Crimes (2004).

The Fedora books have become a nice little series. I know that there are some other anthology series ("The Mammoth Book of Armed Robbery on Thursday", "The Oxford Book of Jaywalking") - do you feel that mystery readers will respond to a sort of brand name the way they do with series novels?

I hope so. An anthology series--whether it's my Fedora series, or Max Allan Collins' and Jeff Gelb's Flesh & Blood series, or any number of long-running anthology series in the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres--is similar to a magazine. Readers look forward to each new edition. With luck, readers who discover the series at book four or book fourteen will also want to read earlier books in the anthology series. So, in a way, each edition of an anthology series serves to promote all the other books in the series.

Do you approach editing someone else's fiction differently than editing your own? Are you harder on your own stories?

I doubt that I'm consciously harder on my own work, because I'm comfortable with my approach to writing.

Editing the work of another writer requires a good sense of balance and I'm not sure if I've fully developed that sense yet. I have personal quirks--like a severe dislike for the word "got," which is frequently used by lazy writers to avoid selecting specific descriptions and specific details that would improve their work immensely--and I have to ensure that I don't let a personal quirk interfere with my editorial judgment. If I suggest changes to another writer, my goal is to suggest changes that improve the work, not simply make it sound more like me.

Ever have any writers get off when you rejected their stories? Any death threats?

Jeez, not yet. Don't give anyone any ideas.

Just remember, I know where you live. Make sure the check's on time this month. You published the equivalent of several volumes of short fiction before your first novel, All White Girls, appeared. You've said that you've gotten more respect for that than for all your stories put together. Why do you think short story writers get no love?

The respect came mostly from non-writers. Until I had a book, it didn't matter how many short stories, articles, essays, poems, and whatnot I'd had published. Most non-writers don't seem to grasp the concept of "writer," but do grasp the concept of "author of book."

At the same time, All White Girls is my most critically praised novel and the critical recognition has certainly elevated my status among other writers.

I think short story writers are mostly anonymous. The average reader doesn't look for short stories by specific authors, unless they know the authors from their novels.

And without writing novels, short story writers have a heck of a time getting reader attention.

You've sold a number of stories to men's magazines - not quite erotica, but strong stuff. Do you think that helps you turn off your self-censor when writing something like All White Girls?

I'm not sure I have a self-censor. When I write, I want to tell a story, and I want to tell the story in the most convincing way possible. Some stories are best told with graphic sex and bloody violence, while others are best told with no sex and no violence.

All White Girls, for example, takes place in a specific subculture. Any attempt to whitewash the reality of that subculture is unfair to the reader.

You've never written anything and thought, "I hope my wife doesn't read this. Or my kids."?

Actually, no. My 20-year-old son read a couple of my stories back when he was in high school and now refuses to read anything I write. My wife rarely reads fiction, so unless I manage a perfect imitation of Dick Francis or Elmer Kelton, I doubt she'll read anything of mine.

You attend mystery conventions and writers conferences fairly regularly. Now that you're rich and famous, do you get mobbed by your fans? Seriously what sort of feedback do you get from people familiar with your stuff?

I'm still waiting for the day when my fans mob me. People who know me only from my crime fiction tend to tell me that I'm not at all like they expected. I hope that's a good thing.

Small Crimes is the fourth anthology you've edited. Tell us a little about it.

Small Crimes is a step sideways from my other anthologies. I wanted to try my hand at something that wasn't hardboiled private eye and tough guy crime fiction. I also wanted to try an anthology that wasn't based on a specific genre.

Instead, I asked writers to begin their stories with "small crimes," and I suggested things like jaywalking and littering. I wanted the writers to show us the consequences of those crimes. What happens next?

For example, Paula J. Matter's story begins with kids stealing apples from a neighbor's orchard, and Neil Schofield's story begins with the theft of a bag of chickpeas.

Some of the stories are tragic, some are sad, and some are roll-on-the-floor funny.

What other projects have you got cooking? Can we expect another Dick Rickenbacher novel?

In addition to Small Crimes, Fedora III is scheduled for release later this year, and I'm reading for three more anthologies scheduled for release in 2005.

I'm working on a sequel to All White Girls. Rickenbacher is investigating the disappearance and death of another young woman.

And, of course, I continue to write and sell short stories in multiple genres.

My oldest series P.I.--Nathaniel Rose--appears in "Dangerous Curves," a new story coming out in Fedora III.

My newest series P.I.--Morris Ronald Boyette--made his debut in "Feel the Pain" (Flesh & Blood: Guilty As Sin, edited by Max Allan Collins and Jeff Gelb, Mysterious Press) in 2003 and should appear in two more stories scheduled for publication this year.

Why on earth did you name this guy "Moe Ron"? You got something against Texans? 'Cause that's a good way to earn a couple of death threats. And yes, I know I used "got" in that sentence.

I had a character named Morris Ronald in a short story fragment set in Mississippi. The story remains unfinished, but I loved the name. When I wrote the first Boyette story, Morris Ronald seemed to fit the character--and only one person is allowed to call Boyette "Moe Ron."

Well, I can see you're a busy man, so thanks for your time, and keep up the good work.