Da Vinci

Dan Brown wrote his story about Da Vinci. I wrote the other story about Leonardo Da Vinci. The rarely told one about the cave he visited as a child outside his home in Vinci, Italy, and where, legend has it, he received divine power. Or, the talent to create works of art and inventions centuries before his time. Who knows what existed inside that cave that had the power to inspire him.

Whatever the case, to this day the cave has never been discovered. But then, that's not right either, because our intrepid adventurer and all around most interesting man in the world, Chase Baker has most definitely uncovered it. But let's hope he survives the ordeal...

Today's Book Bub feature is Chase Baker and the Da Vinci Divinity. Grab it while it's hot at only 0.99...

And for gits and shiggles, check out my recent journey to Da Vinci's childhood home...

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Grab CHASE BAKER AND THE DA VINCI DIVINITY at all stores, including Amazon, Kobo, iTines and Google Play: BOOK BUB

On Publishing: 5 Rules You Should Break

Any author who isn't considering opening up their own publishing imprint in 2017 is living in the fucking dark ages. Pardon the F word. Sure, publish traditionally. Give to Caesar what is Caeser's. But by all means, take control of your career, and take advantage of all the publishing opps out there, including independent publishing platforms like KDP and D2D.

Publish, not once a year, or twice a year, but all the time. Publish non-stop. Don't let any publishing professionals, agent or editor, tell you you're wearing yourself too thin. Don't take their advice at all in fact when it comes to production and the proliferation of your words. Proliferation scares them. It goes against their traditional mindset. It makes them feel like they are losing control.

What scares the writing traditionalists and academy elites the most? A non-traditional writer who sells. A writer who writes what he wants to write, how he wants to write it. A writer who doesn't bend over to the PC lockstep culture. A writer who refuses to be emasculated by the system. I made well over six figures last year publishing the shit I make up, one way or another. I don't have to teach, I don't have to work at another job I hate. I don't have to grow old and irrelevant by punching a clock for some other asshole. Like the song goes, I live life my way.

You can too, but it takes a crap load of work. In mean time, here's a little advice about 5 traditional publishing rules your should break!

1. Don't sign a contract if you don't have to. Here's why: the publisher will break it if it wants to. You however, being an author and therefore powerless in the publisher's mind, will be expected to adhere to the letter of the law. When it comes to publishers, well, they feel they control your fate. So, like a pilot that purposely crashes the plane into a mountainside, they can tank your book if they so choose. Or they can veer away from the mountain, and make it a bestseller. Once you sign away your rights, they control everything. So bring along a parachute and don't sign if you don't have to.

2. If you must sign a contract, make sure there's no bullshit in there about non-compete clauses, or anything that holds onto your rights, paper or electronic, for more than a period of seven years. Anything more than that, and tell them to hit the road. Publish it under your savvy new imprint and control your own destiny.

3. When your publisher tells you to slow down, nod politely, then write and publish as many stories and novels as possible. Write, publish, repeat. Don't listen to their rules. I've worked with a half dozen major, medium, and small publishers over the course of a 20 year career. Almost every editor, editor in chief, and marketing person I've been involved with over that period are now gone baby gone. If nothing else, professional publishing is a revolving door. No one cares about you, no matter how much they pretend. Take care of yourself first, and publish everything. 

4. Don't suck up to get ahead. If you're like me, a hybrid publishing traditionally and independently, you're still going to find yourself in situations (especially in New York City and LA), where you're going to have to suck up to somebody. Be nice, treat others with the same respect you expect, but don't suck up to get ahead. It's humiliating. Remember, this is 2017, not 2007 or 1997 for that matter. You, the writer, have far more control over the publisher than you think. They need you more than the other way around. What a liberating concept. Like I said, be nice, work with them, market the work they produce for you to the best of your ability. But expect them to work for you as well. Your relationship with them should be a working relationship of mutual admiration and respect. Not one of the writer on his knees and the publisher with his pants unzipped. 

5. You don't need to attend every writers conference on the planet. These are expensive events that are usually attended by the old guard elite who are often paid to be there. Sure, conferences can be fun sometimes, especially for the more social butterfly-like writers. But again, it's one of those situations where conferences need you, more than you need them. It's a cash cow suck up fest. So if you enjoy sucking up while emptying your pockets, go for it.

I could add a sixth rule to break here, like do not waste your money on an MFA, but I'll save that for an essay down the road. For now, just write. Write everyday, write with abandon, write for yourself because that's who you are. Carve those precious gems. Write for traditional publishers but proceed with caution. They will do their best to control you. So don't let them. Control your own destiny. Be your own man. Doesn't matter your gender, grow a new set of balls, and establish your own rules and live by them. Thrive by them. 

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True Lies: Real Life Prison Break Makes for Good Fiction

Is there anything more inspiring than the local news headlines when seeking out an idea for your fiction? Who doesn't like true lies? This is not to be confused with "fake news," which seems to be all the rage these days, because this ain't about politics. It's about where ideas come from. After all, if only I had a nickel for the many fans and/or interested parties who ask me, seemingly on a daily basis, "Where do you get your ideas, Vin?" 

The answers is, some shit I make up, others I rob from the headlines.

The Corruptions, now out in hardcover, eBook, and audio (Polis Books) is one of those stories I robbed from the headlines. It all began when two cons made a daring Hollywood-like escape from Dannemora Maximum Security Prison, or what's officially known in New York State Department of Corrections circles as the Clinton County Correctional Facility. It's also known as "Little Siberia" to its 3,000 or so inmates due to its location very close to the Canadian border. I've been up there and it's pretty much a castle surrounded by thick forest. Like the real Siberia, it's super freaking cold in the winter and super hot in the summer, and no one...not a soul...has escaped the joint in its 150 or so years of existence.

That is, until June of 2015 when two inmates, David Sweat and Reginald Moss, crawled their way through a steam pipe out into the Dannemora sewers. From there they popped a manhole cover, and waited for an escape vehicle that never arrived. What to do then?

Head for the woods.

What followed was a massive manhunt that lasted for days upon days, involved more law enforcement agencies, both federal and state (and Canadian), than you can shake a prison guard's baton at, and that reduced the governor of the Empire State to fits of rage and perhaps even tears...Hey, it's entirely possible. 

The story was covered on nationally and perhaps even internationally. The residents of the little town of Dannemora which surrounds the prison took up arms, and it all made for some great television and Internet watching. It was like a Hollywood picture playing out in real time. Of course, what we were all waiting for was the inevitable showdown between the cons and the police, which came weeks later during a shootout that left one of them dead, and the other wounded.

We all wondered how this kind of thing could happen in this day and age of hyper security, but deep down, despite the crimes of the perps (and they are significant), we were all sort of rooting for the bad guys. So this is the story that fascinated me enough to wrap a big fiction around it, much like I did with the first Keeper Marconi PI novel, The Innocent (Delactore and Thomas &Mercer). In this case, The Corruptions is based on the true story of the Dannemora escape, but my imagination takes over and hopefully I was able to make a fascinating story even more fascinating by imagining, what if? The Innocent has sold hundreds of thousands of units. Let's see what The Corruptions can do. Let's see if it captures the frantic spirit of two cons on the run.

Speaking of escaped cons, here's a quick joke. Two escaped cons are running down the road, when one of them spots some roadkill. "I'm freakin' starving," he says. "I'm gonna eat that." "I think I'll wait," the second con says. The first con fills his face with the roadkill, but immediately pukes. That's when the second con drops to his knees and eats the puke up off the pavement. When he's done, he stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "I was waiting for a hot meal," he says. 

If you like a cool, relentless, cat-and-mouse thriller, you'll want to check out the newly released The Corruptions (A Keeper Marconi Thriller No. 4). Think Fargo meets The Shawshank Redemption. My thanks to the cons who dared escape those prison walls. I know they hoped to make it to the border. It didn't work out that way, but at least they gave it one hell of a shot. In doing so, they captured the imaginations of thousands of people. The Corruptions will too.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
     

How Far would You Go for Rabbit?

"Don't go down into the cellar, mommy..."

Okay, I know that the last thing some people can imagine is frying a cute little furry Peter Cottontail in a pan over a hot gas flame while introducing a fresh garlic, butter, chicken stock reduction, flour for thickness, rosemary, plus salt and pepper to taste, and then serving it with red wine, fried potatoes, insalata and an olive oil so fresh and green that it boasts zero transparency. But that's exactly what I crave when I arrive in Rome every fall season for my extended writing retreat in Italy.

In fact, how much do I spend just to eat coniglio (pronounced 'coneelio')? When you consider the cost of the hotel which is located in the Piazza Novona area, and the cost of taxi and train transport, and the cost of the meal itself plus a bottle of red wine, we're talking about $400+.

Point is, I could easily get off the plane in Rome and hop the train directly to Florence where I rent my apartment. That move alone would save me some dough. And naturally, this being Italy, I could no doubt enjoy coniglio up here in Tuscany as well. But there's something extra special about the recipe I enjoy at this one particular trattoria in Rome. Heck, I don't even know the name of the place, but the owner has gotten to know me by now, and whenever I arrive he smiles, shakes my hand, asks me how my writing is going, and he doesn't bother with handing me a menu. He already knows what I want.

So what does coniglio taste like?

Some of you might toss your empty beer bottles at my head, but well, it tastes sort of like the tenderest, most flavorful chicken you've ever had. It's far more bony however and it can be a challenge to get at all those tasty bits without using your fingers. It can make for a mess and if you eat coniglio the way it was meant to be eaten, the meal can take a while. You don't measure the time in minutes however, but in how long it takes for a bottle of wine to go from full to empty.

Coniglio done right...

I enjoyed my meal three nights ago and I can still taste it. What did the last poet/novelist Jim Harrison once say about a good meal? That he'd happily spend five hundred dollars on it even if his bank account is in the red. Because a good meal is not a thing to be consumed, it is a memory that lasts and lasts. I savor my memory.

Speaking of memory, many of you will recall my novel THE REMAINS, the story of Rebecca Underhill and her twin sister who were abducted by a madman back when they were kids, only to be victimized by him again three decades later upon his release from prison. Now Rebecca is back in the continuation of her story. It's called THE ASHES. And today is its release day. Like a great meal, a good book should be savored and it should not just pass the time, but provide you with memories as though the story on the page were one you experienced yourself. I hope you pick up your copy of THE ASHES today, and spend the weekend reading it. You won't be disappointed.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

   

How Far would You Go for Rabbit?

"Don't go down into the cellar, mommy..."

Okay, I know that the last thing some people can imagine is frying a cute little furry Peter Cottontail in a pan over a hot gas flame while introducing a fresh garlic, butter, chicken stock reduction, flour for thickness, rosemary, plus salt and pepper to taste, and then serving it with red wine, fried potatoes, insalata and an olive oil so fresh and green that it boasts zero transparency. But that's exactly what I crave when I arrive in Rome every fall season for my extended writing retreat in Italy.

In fact, how much do I spend just to eat coniglio (pronounced 'coneelio')? When you consider the cost of the hotel which is located in the Piazza Novona area, and the cost of taxi and train transport, and the cost of the meal itself plus a bottle of red wine, we're talking about $400+.

Point is, I could easily get off the plane in Rome and hop the train directly to Florence where I rent my apartment. That move alone would save me some dough. And naturally, this being Italy, I could no doubt enjoy coniglio up here in Tuscany as well. But there's something extra special about the recipe I enjoy at this one particular trattoria in Rome. Heck, I don't even know the name of the place, but the owner has gotten to know me by now, and whenever I arrive he smiles, shakes my hand, asks me how my writing is going, and he doesn't bother with handing me a menu. He already knows what I want.

So what does coniglio taste like?

Some of you might toss your empty beer bottles at my head, but well, it tastes sort of like the tenderest, most flavorful chicken you've ever had. It's far more bony however and it can be a challenge to get at all those tasty bits without using your fingers. It can make for a mess and if you eat coniglio the way it was meant to be eaten, the meal can take a while. You don't measure the time in minutes however, but in how long it takes for a bottle of wine to go from full to empty.

Coniglio done right...

I enjoyed my meal three nights ago and I can still taste it. What did the last poet/novelist Jim Harrison once say about a good meal? That he'd happily spend five hundred dollars on it even if his bank account is in the red. Because a good meal is not a thing to be consumed, it is a memory that lasts and lasts. I savor my memory.

Speaking of memory, many of you will recall my novel THE REMAINS, the story of Rebecca Underhill and her twin sister who were abducted by a madman back when they were kids, only to be victimized by him again three decades later upon his release from prison. Now Rebecca is back in the continuation of her story. It's called THE ASHES. And today is its release day. Like a great meal, a good book should be savored and it should not just pass the time, but provide you with memories as though the story on the page were one you experienced yourself. I hope you pick up your copy of THE ASHES today, and spend the weekend reading it. You won't be disappointed.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

   

Observations by the Hybrid Author Thus Far

Back in the old days (I'm talking the late 1990s here), when I wrote my first book for Delacorte Press, there was only one way to publish. Traditionally. You submitted the manuscript you'd been agonizing over for the past two to three years (or in writing school, like I did) to an agent, and when and if they agreed to shop it, you'd then wait another period of months until it was sold.

More than likely however, it would have been rejected. But...Big ol' booty BUT here...if you were one of the lucky ones, said agent fielded an offer for you. Or two. The more the better because that meant the book was entering into an auction and that would drive the price up. That happened to me with that first book and I ended up with a pretty hefty advance.

However, the book pretty much tanked and after having left all that money on the table, no one wanted to offer me more money for more books. I was out of business for a while (but the joke was on them, because the second edition of that book would go on to sell well over 100,000 copies).

Fast forward to the early 2000s and the advent of indie publishing and suddenly authors have options like never before. We can publish the old fashioned way and hope, or we can publish with smaller more digitally based presses, or we can form our own publishing companies and self-publish our books (so long as they are rigorously edited...this of course, takes investment money). A fourth option is the one I prefer which is hybrid authorship, or a combination of all the above.

I've been at the hybrid game for about three years now, and at this point I've been able to make some interesting observations (these are personal observations and by no means the rule...what works/doesn't work for me, might be different for another author).

1. Small independent presses can't move units. Simple as that. In other words, if you sign with a small imprint, regardless of their quality, author stable, and distribution, it's hard for them to move as many units as a big publisher can. They simply don't have the resources to make it happen. Now if you're publishing with the small press for the honor of doing so (maybe you have another job or you teach), and not relying on the money, then by all means, indulge. Some beautiful books are being produced by more than a few of these companies. 

2. The big publishers, and I include Amazon Publishing imprints in this group, can indeed move a lot of units, but only when they are paying strict attention to you and your library pretty much all of the time, or at least, a lot of the time. Which, of course, is impossible. Big publishers have a ton of authors vying for their attention and not everyone can get a big bite of it all the time. Ironically, it's the authors who sell the best who are going to demand the most attention. That's the way it's always worked and that's the way it will remain. I personally like to use big publishers, especially Amazon Imprints like Thomas & Mercer, for my stand-alones since they have an aptitude for marketing like no other. 

2A. Big Publishers still move a lot of paper (I exclude Amazon Publishing imprints in this one, since they rely almost exclusively on Kindle and audio).

3. Indie or self-publishing is all about the math. What I mean is, having now been publishing one entire series, The Chase Baker action/adventure pulp series for three years now under my own imprint, Bear Media, I can see that the best marketing tool for succeeding independently is to write more books. Five books sell more than one book. 10 books sell more than 5, 20 books sell more than 10, and so on, rinse, repeat. However, to be a successful indie writer, you need to market aside from writing more books. This means paying for FB ads, BookBubs, KNDs, and any one of a multitude of advertising sites that are presently available. There are days I am so confused and overwhelmed by marketing opportunities that I find myself having to lie down and take a nap. Also, has anyone tried to figure out precisely how Facebook ads work? You need to be a rocket scientist to figure it out. But wait, you can now hire other outside firms to do this kind of thing for you. In turn you're free to write while they build up your subscriber list which in time, will result in increased sales.

To sum it up (this was supposed to be a short blog), numerous options still exist for all fiction writers, especially genre writers like me. It's all about personal choice and comfort and how much control you're willing or not willing to give up. If you make your living as a writer, like I do, you'll probably find yourself shying away from small presses and concentrating on bigger trades for certain books (like stand-alones for instance) while spending a significant amount of time building up your indie list of series books.

One day, I foresee one's own website acting as a one-stop bookshop for an author's personal list of subscribers who need only tap their smartphone (or wristwatch) for the books they wish to read, digitally, audibly, or in good old fashioned paper. That day is coming rather quickly. But not yet.

Note: I'll be speaking on this exact topic at the annual Writer's Digest Conference 2016 taking place August 12-14 in New York City. Click HERE for details. Please come, introduce yourself to me, and perhaps we can have a drink and chat it up.   

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READ KOBO AND NOOK BOOKS?
The CHASE BAKER TRILOGY and PULP:THREE NOVELS AND A NOVELLA TO KEEP YOU ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT are now available in both stores.

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"Moonlight Falls" Again...

"Man's life is flashing before his eyes...."

The first line in my novel, Moonlight Falls, still causes chills to run up and down my spine. I was in quite the state when I wrote it. The second marriage was crumbling, the bank account was in the red, my original Big 5 publisher wasn't about to roll out a third book for me now that I hadn't earned out a mid-six-figure advance, I had no freelance prospects, and my dog died. Okay, well I'm fibbing about the dog, but things were pretty bleak to to say the least. So much so, that not even the worst country music ballad could do it justice.

How does the line go in the famous Wilco song? I shiver whenever the doorbell rings. Or something like that. And yeah, I must admit, there were times I thought, you know what, why not just check out now and beat the reaper at his own game. But then, even the next cheeseburger is worth waiting for. Especially if the cheese is sharp cheddar and you're washing it down with an ice cold beer.

But it was in this state of mind that I began Moonlight Falls, with those first seven words. Because in a real way, my life was flashing before my eyes. I knew that I had no choice but to write my way out of my depression. That a creative mind had no other choice. That is, it wanted to survive.

I can still recall sitting across from Suzanne Gluck's big glass desk inside her glitzy William Morris Agency office in Manhattan, while she read the manuscript one page at a time, a pair of brass knuckles set out on the desktop, and her rather attractive assistant bringing her a bagel (no cream cheese). Gluck was, is, arguably, the best literary agent in the world. And that is no exaggeration. She took a special interest in Moonlight Falls and I was convinced at the time that all my problems were solved. But it was not to be. In the end, that big ass advance I hadn't earned out at Delacorte plagued me like a bad shadow and even she couldn't sell it. I had no choice but to go with a small publisher.

Said small publisher treated me very kindly, but as time went on and the manuscript was whipped into someone else's editorial vision, it sort of lost it's original gritty vision in order to become more attractive to a wider audience. But only now, nearly ten years after I first started writing it, is my original vision of the manuscript available for both new readers and Zandri completests. It's hard-boiled, it's noir, it's romantic suspense, it's raw, it's sexy, it's bad ass, and yeah, it's as close to the original version Ms. Gluck read inside her office with me staring at her, wondering if she was single (she wasn't).

So, without further rumination, for the first time in a long time, I give to you, MOONLIGHT FALLS (EXTENDED EDITOR'S CUT EDITION)...

 Also, check out the original MOONLIGHT FALLS TRAILER

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Feel the Beat: How to Propel Plot

I did a reading in New York this past week as a part of the Mysterious Bookstore launch for Orchard Grove, my new standalone noir novel from Polis Books. After the reading, a fan asked me how I'm able to balance my dialogue with the prose while pushing along the plot so swiftly. It wasn't an easy question to answer. In many ways, it was like trying to find an answers for why do our hearts beat? Or why life?

Ask one hundred authors how they go about writing something and you'll get one hundred different answers. But for me, it's a matter of rhythm. Of creating a specific beat to the writing, much like a drummer laying down the back beat behind a particular piece of music. I'm able to make this analogy because I'm a drummer. And when I'm drumming, I feel the beat more than I hear it.

It's the same with writing.

I'm able to create 3,000 new words a day, not because I grind through it, but instead because of an ability to create a specific rhythm or beat that I feel inside my body and that is made manifest on the paper (or digital screen of my laptop). The steady beat comes about by a balancing act of description and dialogue. Never should one overtake the other or the entire piece of music will crash and burn. The reader senses the rhythm, and whether they end up liking the story or not, they will almost always point out, "Holy crap, I just could not put the book down."

Sometimes I'm writing to a frantic punk rock beat and other times, I'm writing to a more creative, improvised jazz rhythm. Sometimes it's funk, and other times, I'm writing to a slow, lovely but sad ballad like The Long and Winding Road, strings and choral voices bringing tears to my eyes.  

Looking for a way not only to write more words per day, but to create novels and stories that are unputdownable? Think in terms of rhythm. Feel the beat, man...Feel the beat. 

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM


  

A Very Zandri Christmas 2015

A very Hemingway Christmas...

I don't want to fall into that, "It's Christmas and time for reflection thing," because it seems that's the general article every writer no matter his or her politics, religion, and or sexual preference writes on a nice day like today. But having spent the past two months in Italy touring a new Italian edition of MOONLIGHT SONATA and rewriting my newest stand-alone, THE DETONATOR, along with a full first draft of the newest in the Chase Baker action/adventure pulp series, CHASE BAKER AND THE DA VINCI DIVINITY, I have come to just a few conclusions that will propel me into the new year, not necessarily as a hard working writer (I always work hard), but a writer who will work smarter.

Some adjustments I'll be making for 2016:

--As a hybrid author, I enjoy contracts with several publishers, big and small. But this year, I'm going to pay special attention to growing my own, Bear Media, list of books. This was the first year where I saw significant sales in my indie novels. Namely, the Chase Baker books of which the first in the series, THE SHROUD KEY, was named One of the Best of 2014 by Suspense Magazine. Now that writer/journalist Ben Sobieck is also penning original episodes of the series, I expect to see significant growth in Chase Baker world.

--Less journalism, more fiction. Back in 1999 when I signed my first big contract for my first big novel, As Catch Can (now THE INNOCENT), I chucked journalism altogether, thinking I would nail a 250K contract once per year. What a dope I was. That said, I've always believed a writer needs many outlets for his work in order to make a nice living. That includes journalism outlets. I still write some journalism and maintain my membership with SPJ, but while I'm paid for my time as a journalist, the work isn't the gift that keeps on giving. That means, more fiction. Think the 80/20 principle here. 80% more time spent on scalable fiction projects, and 20% on the journalism.

--Blogging. Was a time when writers were encouraged to blog constantly, since the posts would inevitably lead readers to your books. That basic premise still holds true but blogging doesn't quite have the "Buy Me" power it once did. Let's face it, there's so much noise out there in the blogosphere already that chances are, your words are only making things worse. Again, write more fiction, less noise.

--Word Count. I'm not one of those Bananaramo writers, nor do I feel the need to state a specific word count for any given work day. But I do feel I the need increase my word count this year. I generally write between five to seven pages per day when writing a new book. But this year, I'll try increasing that to ten pages.

--Readings. I dreamt last night that I was giving a reading to a student body. I take that as a sign that I should be out there doing more readings and speaking engagements. Therefore, if you're reading this, and you want me to read and/or speak at your school or function, just email me at Vazandri@aol.com and we'll set a date.

There's probably more things I'm going to try and improve upon this year, but I drank way too much wine last night in beautiful Florence, where the smells of roasting garlic pervades the air and the Christmas bells are ringing in the cathedral towers. I think I need to head out for a run and then open up some gifts with my family who have flown over the Atlantic to enjoy the holidays with me. I might be an ocean away from my American friends and fans but that doesn't mean you're not always in my thoughts. Thanks for making it a spectacular 2015!

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM 

On the Ground Observations from Terrorist Rattled Europe

Papa defends freedom with a pen and gin in his canteen.

Couple observations.

First, Bloobmberg reports today that Hemingway's 1964 posthumously published memoir about Paris is flying off both the digital and paper shelves in France, particularly Paris. Amazing the support for Papa's romantic vision of the City of Lights as A Movable Feast all these years later during such complicated and dangerous times. A time in which, like during WWII, the Russians are allying with France to eradicate a common enemy as murderous if not worse than Hitler's Nazis.

According to Bloomberg, the renewed interest in the great work is a "show of defiance" against the recent Radical Islamist terror attacks and Radical Islam in general which would do anything possible to eliminate a way of life for drinkers, writers, poets, artists and more. Let's face it, the bastards would make a mosque out of the Deux Magot.

Papa would love the renewed interest in the wake of this new war of freedom vs. terror. Speaking of another time in history he famously stated, "Fascism is a lie told by bullies." No writer can truly write under Fascist law. Same goes for Sharia Law, as well as the Political Correctness which has afflicted the USA and been perpetuated so dangerously by Barack Obama and his mainstream media minions.

So Papa would be proud.

One wonders however, what he might have thought (off the record, of course) of the present POTUS. My guess is he would have smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "You get what you goddamned pay for, pal." He then would have belly laughed and poured another glass of vino rosso (or rouge). "Don't take life so seriously," he would have said, slapping me on the back. "You never know when that old whore death is gonna come knocking at your door."

In other matters, today, I came face to face with a group of Muslim young men freshly transplanted from their home territory. I stood in line at the grocery store with them. They seemed giddy and relieved to have made it this far. They had a leader with them. A fixer. A man who was about my age, and who was coaching them on what to buy and how to buy it (no pork products). They spoke in their native tongue, and looked healthy and fit and not to badly attired with nice watches and jeans. The leader, who spoke very little English and zero Italian, was confused when the cashier wanted to know if he wanted a plastic bag with which to carry his purchases. He just looked at her like she had two heads. I reached out, grabbed the plastic bag, and gave it to him. He smiled. I wondered if these transplants had wives and children waiting for them somewhere. But there was nothing in their food and supply purchases that would have indicated as such. No baby cereal or diapers. Just stuff a grown young man might want to eat and utilize. And certainly no booze.

Syrian refugees come up from the south?

Almost certainly.

But the refugee part might be misleading. More like young men fleeing a civil war in which they would have to choose between one of two evil sides. I could only hope their intentions were benign. But I can only wonder considering the recent events in Paris. Vigilance is key here. This world war is only just getting started. 

Oh, and by the way, the fixer attached to the young transplants paid with a Mastercard.

Go figure...

UPDATE 11/20:
 As of this morning, the US State Department warns American travelers that Florence's "Duomo Cathedral" and Rome's Vatican are now listed as viable ISIS targets based on recent intelligence reports. Italian military and police have now ramped up security accordingly.


WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

     

Papa's Advice for Traveling and Working and Living

"Never go on trips with anyone you do not love."--EH

Last night I packed my bag (that's right, bag, as in one carry-on bag or in this case, ratty old backpack) and my laptop for what will be an extended trip to Italy (and points beyond). For two months I will be working, touring the Italian edition of Moonlight Sonata, eating, drinking, playing, and whatever else I feel like doing.

All this in mind, I thought it might be appropriate to pass on some travel and writing tips to any of you considering the life of the literary expat (even if only for a month or two). But then it kind of dawned on me that you shouldn't take my word for it. Take someone else's word. Someone made famous not only by his words but by his love and fascination with travel.

Ernest Hemingway.

Here's what Birchbox compiled with regards to Papa's love of the road, the air, and the sea, not to mention his never ceasing passion for working while traveling. Something I can relate to as easily as breathing.


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"I was born, I blinked ..."

You blink and summer, you sadly discover, has passed you by. Actually, it went by faster than a blink, which life in general seems to do, or so I'm discovering now that I'm a 51 year old guy. Time is now akin to sliding down that slippery slope. The descent isn't all that rapid, but you start thinking of things that you never thought about before (if you'll forgive the Yogi Berrasim, may God rest his soul).

For instance, you wake up one too many times at night to take a leak and what flashes through your brain is prostate cancer. There's more hair at the bottom of the shower drain these days. Gray hair. You're still exercising more than ever, but it sometimes leaves you more tired than energized, so you become a fan of afternoon naps (For the life of me, I don't know how folks with traditional jobs get through the day without a nap).

But there's a lot of good that comes with age too.

For the most part, I feel like I'm twenty-one. I eat what I want, drink what I want, go where I want, and, do what I want, within reason. I still get the high hard one up without help from chemicals, and, praise be to God, I don't think I've enjoyed a summer in recent memory where I haven't had even an ounce of women trouble.

Maybe I'm learning something in my dark middle age (it's not really all that dark. I just like the sound of that). Ten years ago this very weekend, my second wife, Laura, and I, split up. I moved out with fifty dollars in my checking account and a whole bunch of debt, and no publishing contracts to depend on. Now, ten years later, Laura and I are back together. I'm about to publish my twentieth novel in Jan. 16 (Orchard Grove, Polis Books), and I make a very good living at what I do. As for debt, I kicked it's big fat ass.

So how did I do it?

I worked hard at making some serious changes in my life that extended far beyond something as simple as quitting smoking or giving up gluten. I peered into the mirror, and I was honest with myself. Brutally honest. What I came up with is that your life is your own responsibility. No one is to blame for your plight but you. Not society, not race, not political affiliation, not your parents, not the police, not the welfare state...Not even God or the devil. You and you alone are the captain of your ship and you alone are responsible for its course.

So, yes, I have learned some things now that I'm older, the most important lesson of which is this: No matter how bad your situation is, you can change it. You can reverse anything, if you want to. Happiness isn't something you wear like a skin. It's a choice. In making the decision to be happy, you must make adjustments. Some of them difficult, like giving up a job you hate, leaving a harmful relationship, or packing up, selling your shit, and moving to a new state or country. But the changes are necessary if you are going to be happy (yes, in all the Eat, Pray, Love, sense of the word).

I'm reminded of an obituary that recently appeared in a US newspaper. It was written by the woman who was about to die, something for which I applauded her. In it, she wrote, "I was born, I blinked, and it was over." I've never forgotten those words. Nor should you. That is, you want to assume ultimate responsibility for the one life you live and its happiness.

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World War III and More Pleasant Observations

How ISIS has Fun in the Summer Sun

It's been way too long since I've posted here. But if I have an excuse or excuses, it/they are good ones. This summer has been taken up almost entirely with my rewrite for When Shadows Come, my new stand-alone psych thriller coming from Thomas & Mercer in April of '16. Time is also being consumed by my rewrite of Orchard Grove, my new hard-boiled/noir effort to be released by Polis Books in January '16. Both books are major releases for me and represent precisely my evolution as a writer with 20 books to his credit (or discredit, depending upon which side of the fence you're on).
 
Some common sense observations from the mind of a rugged individualist (card carrying Independent) thus far for summer 2015:


--You don't plead the 5th unless you're afraid of going to prison.

--You don't wipe the personal server clean of 30K emails unless you have something serious to hide.

--You don't make a deal with the Devil unless you have sympathy for the Devil.

--An estimated 50 Iranians who oppose the Iran Nuke Deal have been executed since the interim agreement was signed some months ago.

--"No" means "no," right? Well, "Death to America" and "Death to Israel" means just that...Death.

--The EPA is the new BP when it comes to ruining the environment. Will Obama take time out from his vacation to visit Colorado and the thousands of people affected by this environmental disaster, like he did the Gulf spill? Methinks the photo ops won't work in his favor.

--The national debt is closing in on 20 Trillion. If the debt ceiling were an airplane, 20 T is where we stall out, and begin a spiraling nose dive towards the ultimate calamity.

--Planned Parenthood is now officially in the organ harvesting business.

--Amnesty for illegal immigrants is not about love. It is a power grab for the Democratic caucus. More votes means assured victory, assured big government, assured dependency on government handouts...Oh, and more senseless murders.

--ISIS is not the JV team anymore. They are now the Varsity squad outfitted with WMDs, some of which have been discovered in Iraq.  Go figure.

--"All Lives Matter."

--Russia is on the move, testing NATO's resolve. And remember when North Korea signed a deal with President Clinton back in the 90's assuring the world they would not develop nuclear weapons? It was a deal based not on "trust" but verified inspections. Looks like the bad guys just can't be trusted to keep their word. In the end, it's possible the next POTUS will find him or herself trying to avoid WWIII.

--Is it any wonder that Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders are killing it in the polls while our professional politicians steer the world towards a disaster no one will be able to avoid?

 

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KU.2 and More Crimes(S) News!

KU.2 is here it seems to have some authors confused.

Me included.

I get that authors are now paid for what readers read in terms of number of pages turned. But what I'm not entirely clear on is this: Is it better for a write to be producing long books now as opposed to novellas and shorts?

Common sense tells me the former as opposed to the latter. In any case, the few books I have published as purely Indie aren't doing any better or worse with the advent of this new and improved system (it's too early to tell). But my gut tells me to go wide with most of my indie books while concentrating on KDP for longer titles, like The Scream Catcher, for instance (actually, this title was recently purchased by POLIS BOOKS).

In the end, I think we should trust the experts on the matter of the new KU, so let's bring in Hugh Howey...The floor is yours Hugh...Click HERE for his latest blog, The Great KU Flip-Out of 2015

______

In other News: Richard Matt and David Sweat, the two killers who pulled off the Great Escape from Dannemora Prison in Upstate New York have finally been apprehended. Matt bought the farm after eating a bullet, and Sweat, who also got shot, is currently residing in the Albany Medical Center. 
Some predictions about this case that I got right early on: 
--They would be apprehended relatively close to the joint.
--It was an inside job.
--The tools used in the cutting of the walls, pipes, etc, were easily supplied by COs and other prison workers.
--Security would be lax at the honor block (I've been inside the Green Haven Honor Block where much of the Italian Mob resides and it smells like the best Italian restaurant you've ever eaten in).
--The end would involve a shoot out and at least one them dying.
 
One thing I got wrong: Neither man sought out an old girlfriend and/or wife. Neither had a spouse, I believe, but things being as they are inside an all male prison, I figured they would want to get laid. But then, I guess Joyce Mitchell, the prison worker indicted for aiding and abetting their escape was giving them more sex than they could handle. 

I'm in debt to these guys not only for putting on a good show, but for giving me the idea for my fourth Jack Marconi novel, THE INNOCENT (formerly AS CATCH CAN) being the first one. How ironic that after 16 years of Jack, he's back to investigating the max security breakout of a couple of killers, one of them a cop killer. Think I'll buy David Sweat some flowers.

Lot's coming up including my nominations for a Shamus Award and an ITW Award, so don't forget to check out WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM  for detes. 

Oh, crap, and also, I'll be signing first editions of EVERYTHING BURNS and MOONLIGHT WEEPS at ThrillerFest this Friday after my 12PM Panel, "MEET THE NOMINEES!" Hope to see you there.


 

"Little Siberia" Prison Break: A Case for Jack Marconi?

David Sweat and Richard Matt, on the lamb in Upstate NY

More than a few readers have asked me if I'm going to write about the elaborate, "Shawshank Redemption" style prison break that occurred a few days ago at the Clinton County Correctional Facility in Dennemora, NY, which is located approximately 25 miles from the Canadian border at Montreal. Dubbed, "Little Siberia" by the inmates and security guards (corrections officers) alike, the place is pretty much a frozen hellhole during the winter and a frying pan during the summer months. An escape hasn't occurred there in almost a century and a half, so you can imagine the amount of planning that went into this by two notorious murderers and cops killers.

That said, having researched and written about another elaborate maximum security prison break that took place back in 1968 at New York's Green Haven Prison in my novel, The Innocent, I might speculate on the following:

 
--Judging by the degree of sophistication that went into the breakout...the expert cuts in the walls, the steam pipes, and the overall knowledge of the joint's layout, these two criminals not only had outside and inside help, they had access to facility blueprints.

--Make no mistake, Corrections Offices and prison workers can be bought. They also are human which means it's easy to form emotional relationships with inmates. The prisoners run the show, not the other way around. That means, if the two escapees required power tools to facilitate their escape, they simply found a way to have them smuggled into the prison. Trust me, that's the easy part.

--While the Canadian border is located relatively close by...a forty five minute drive, I'm told...investigators should concentrate first on girlfriends, wives, family members, good friends and the like, before jumping to any conclusions. Sure, the obvious decision for these guys to make is to cross the border and somehow find their way out of the country. But more than likely, they want to get laid and eat a home cooked meal, not to mention down a few beers. Sounds crass and too simple to be believed, for sure, but how's that old song from the 80's go? "People are people," even if they are crazed murderers.
  
Okay, some of you might have a heart attack over what I'm about to point out, but I'm gonna do it anyway since I'm primarily a hard-boiled author. It is kind of romantic these two guys were able to pull off such a skilled escape in this day and age. The brash manner and style in which they managed to pull it off and, on top of it perhaps enjoying the assistance of beautiful femme fatale working inside the joint, is something straight out of a 1930s noir novel or film. I couldn't outline it any better.

So then, will I write about this case?
I'll ask Jack Marconi, former max prison warden turned PI and get back to you.

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Ten Years Ago...

Nominated for ITW's Best Paperback Original...

Ten years ago I was down and out...

Literally.

After a stellar launch and a quarter million dollar advance on my first novel, I did something stupid. I assumed those great big advances would keep rolling in every year like Christmas. All I'd have to do is write 60,000 words and collect the dough.

I was young, immature, stupid, and I freakin' blew it.

Instead of continuing on as a freelance journalist, I quit the racket altogether, believing that I'd be spending the rest of my days writing the great American novel. I didn't save any of my advance, but instead bought a house I couldn't afford while the rest of the money burned up in a costly divorce. When the first couple of books in the big deal didn't come close to earning out that huge advance, I was politely shown the door.

"Hey, that's showbiz, kid!"

I was left with no future publishing prospects, no journalism gigs, and even the new marriage I'd entered into had gone belly up.

Ten years ago, I sat all alone in my apartment and wondered if the Gods were trying to tell me something. That maybe I didn't have what it took to make it as writer. I knew I could continue sitting there feeling sorry for myself, or I could grow up a little, go the opposite direction and make the slow, arduous, long climb out of the pit I'd dug for myself.

The newest novel...

 
I started out by doing something positive. I quit smoking.

I also started putting feelers out for new freelance journalism gigs. They started coming in at a trickle, but within a relatively short time, I was building up a new portfolio. I also started writing fiction again. Short stories and a new novel. The novel that would become Moonlight Falls was written during this tumultuous period. No wonder my main character contemplates, attempts, and fails at suicide.

I also began a long series of travels which turned into my becoming a freelance photo-journalist for outfits like RT. I saw West Africa and toured the bush where little children from an orphanage held my hand and touched my skin because they didn't believe the milky whiteness could be real. I went to Moscow, Paris, London, Istanbul, Peru, the Amazon Basin, and Egypt as the smoke cleared on the Arab Spring. I began basing myself out of Florence, Italy, where I would spend months at a time writing for news services and working on new novels.

Soon, I contracted with a small press to publish Moonlight Falls. Then another small press would take on a new version of The Innocent now that I'd managed to get my rights back from Delacorte. That novel would go on to sell a few hundred thousand copies. Ironically, it would have made back the original $250,000 advance. More books were written and more published. Then something wonderful happened. Thomas & Mercer, Amazon Publishing's traditional publishing arm offered me my first major contract in years and years.

I was back.

Today, ten years later, I'm enjoying contracts with several publishers large and small. Plus I've begun my own label to publish my Chase Baker series and other smaller projects. I'm still writing some journalism. Not because I have to, but because I want to keep my foot in the door and what the hell, it keeps me sharp. My SPJ dues are paid up and I'm a member in good standing.
This year I will enjoy my best year ever as a writer.

What's the secret to turning your writing life around?

For a business that requires as much luck as it does work, a writer must develop a fortitude, a self-discipline, and a perseverance that is unmatched in any other endeavor. The more you work, the more luck you have.

The ebook revolution played a big role as well.

But, ebooks or not, for me there was no other choice in the matter. Like Hemingway said after the initial dismal critical and commercial failure of Across the River and Into the Trees (1950). "When they've knocked you down on your ass for the count of eight, you get up and let 'em have it." He counter attacked and won the Pulitzer Prize. I've counter attacked and haven't won the Pulitzer, but I am up for ITW's Best Paperback Original for 2015 with Moonlight Weeps. And that's something to be very proud of.

Ten years ago I was down and out...and in many ways, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

EVERYTHING BURNS IS 1.99 FOR TWO MORE DAYS!!!!!

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Camel Meat a Tasty Alternative

The famous (or infamous) Medina in Fez is a near impossible to navigate maze of Medieval corridors and alleyways surrounded on all sides by a great stone wall. Something like one million people are stuffed inside the place and they all coexist like ants inside one of those vertical ant farms that parents reluctantly purchase for their more nerdy, science-minded kids. How fascinating to move around among the meat vendors selling sheep’s heads, camel hearts, and lamb’s brains, and the metal pot craftsman who work together banging out their wares to a rhythm that would challenge any drummer (myself included), plus dress makers, knife makers, food stalls, spice and perfume shops, clothe and leather merchants. The smell is smoked meat goodness combined with rancid leather tanneries (which also exist inside the city walls), spices, dust, mold, and body odor. At various times, you need to turn yourself sideways in order to pass through a narrow corridor.

The point (or one of the points anyway) of this excursion is to eat camel. Now, I enjoy a good burger just like the next guy. But I’ve never really considered camel as an option over say, sirloin or Angus beef. But around Morocco and especially inside the Medina, camel meat seems to serve as quite the specialty while narrow stalls advertise the fact that they carry camel meat by nailing a severed camel head to the wall. Makes me want to belt out a Rachael Ray "Yumo."

Standing outside the stall where a charcoal grill is going in the back, we order our camel burgers while flies surf the chunk of raw red meat currently laid out on the sales counter. We take a seat inside the impossibly cramped eating area and nervously drink mint tea while the not unappetizing aroma of cooking camel burger fills our nostrils, the sound of meat grilling and fat spattering serving as the soundtrack. 

When the burgers arrive they’re served on a crusty bun with tomato and lettuce. Instinctively I look for some Heinz 57, but a nondescript hot sauce will have to do. I pick up the burger two-fisted, take a whiff of the smoky flavor then dig in. 

Okay, we’ve all heard the saying about all foreign eats tasting like chicken. But this meat is different. It tastes like meat should taste. Rich, full of flavor, and juicy. The spices added to the ground meat only enhance the flavor. Turns out I didn’t need the Heinz anyway.

The camel burger gets polished off. Happily. Should I worry about getting sick later? Perhaps it’s a good idea to pop a Cipro provocatively, just to make sure. In any case, I’ll find out in about eight hours when the thing digests if I’m going to spend the night glued to the toilet or not. For now, I lock eyes with the camel head hanging on the stall wall as I move on deeper into the overcrowded Medina.

“Thanks for lunch, pal,” I whisper.

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