Tag: Jennifer J. Chow

Ain’t It Funny

I was, somehow, on two humor panels at this past Bouchercon. I moderated one of those panels, which was a great time and one of the best experiences I had moderating a panel because of the amazing wit and talent of my panelists, whose work I look forward to reading. I was a last minute step-in, so I didn’t have time to read their books ahead of time or prepare anything; so the entire panel was extemporaneous–which is incredibly hard for a panelist because you literally have to think on your feet–and they rose to the challenge magnificently. However, I couldn’t use those questions as a self-interview, so instead, I will share the questions marvelous Leslie Karst came up with as the fill-in moderator for the Best Humorous Mystery Anthony panel, which I got to share with Ellen Byron, Jennifer J. Chow, Raquel V. Reyes, and Catriona McPherson…and a lovely time was had by all.

(You can only imagine how thrilling it was to be nominated for an award with these oh-so-talented and wickedly witty women. The imposter syndrome was strong in me on that panel.)

But, with a strong and heartfelt thank you to Leslie for these questions, away we go.

Did you set out to write a humorous (whatever that means) book?

I don’t. That would trigger my anxiety, I think, and I’d second-guess myself constantly. I’m not really sure how funny I actually am–and it’s not self-deprecation for me to say that I don’t think I’m being–or trying to be– funny most of the time. But people always have laughed. It took me a long time for me to realize that they weren’t laughing at me, but with me.

I believe humor should come out of the characters and how they react to, and/or see things, around them. New Orleans is a very easy city to write funny about because the daily paper is an endless source of unintentional humor. Our city government is weird and crazy, as is our history. Something that would draw stares and a crowd anywhere else isn’t even blinked at here. I tried mightily to resist, but have to shamefully confess that I, too, have walked to the Walgreens on the corner in pajamas and house shoes. Are the Scotty books camp? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, as I have been watching and reading about the camp aesthetic in the queer community, and I think they are, based on all the definitions I’ve seen and heard and read about. Scotty exists in a very close to reality as I can make it world, but the situations he and the other characters find themselves in are often over-the-top and ridiculous but normalized in that world, much as they are in real life. No one bats at an eye at any of it, because it’s normal. I think that makes my Scotty series camp.

The book that was nominated, A Streetcar Named Murder, was one in which I didn’t even think about being funny. I had the over-the-top character of the neighbor/best friend, Lorna, for comic relief, but my main character was supposed to be the one who sees and recognizes the ridiculousness but accepts it as reality. Catriona McPherson tagged me on Facebook because one scene in the book made her laugh for several minutes–which I took as a great compliment, because she is one of the funniest people I know–but I didn’t even think about writing that scene as funny; it’s actually when Valerie discovers a dead body, and the dying woman–wearing a pirate wench costume–says her last words, trying to identify who killed her. I remember making the conscious choice as to what those last words would be and tying it into her costume, but that seemed to me how it had to be, if that makes sense? And of course, when you’re writing a book and revising and reediting and rewriting and copy editing and page proofing…you do get so heartily sick of a book and its characters that it just seems tedious and tired and dull to you. Any humor I may have deliberately thought up and wrote into a manuscript no longer is funny to me by the final pass…which is worrying. I am never sure the book is funny or not.

What’s the most challenging thing about writing humor?

Being funny! The thing that always gets me about humor is how quickly and easily it’s dismissed when it comes to books–books aren’t supposed to be funny, you know; they’re supposed to be serious–which always puts funny books at a disadvantage, especially when it comes to awards, particularly juried ones. How do you say one book is funnier than another? Do you judge just the humor, or is that just a factor in the overall quality of the book? The odds of five to seven judges all agreeing on the same thing being funny are exponentially greater than the odds of five to seven judges agreeing on something tragic. Humor is harder than tragedy, and it’s even harder when you’re trying to find the humor in a tragedy.

Humor is incredibly subjective, and difficult to agree on. I’m one of the few people who thought Seinfeld went on for too many seasons and had stopped being funny long before they stopped; likewise with any number of other highly popular comedies, from Friends to Modern Family; shows that remain consistently funny for a long run are very rare, and I’ve always appreciated the comedies that went out before the quality began to decline (The Mary Tyler Moore Show, All in the Family, The Bob Newhart Show).

Have you ever gotten the giggles in a highly inappropriate setting, and how did that go?

My grandmother’s funeral. In fairness, my eldest cousin is one of the funniest people I know, and I made the mistake of sitting next to her and she kept whispering to me and I couldn’t help it. It did NOT go over well, and we’ll leave it at that?

Have you ever had to change anything in a book (funny or not) because of pushback from your editor?

Nothing major or significant, really; there was never anything like “this scene! What were you thinking?”

Is writing humor difficult for you, or does it come naturally? Any tips on writing humor for those writers in the audience?

Like I said, I don’t really try, it just happens. So I guess I would have to say it’s easy, with the qualifier being if I am not trying to be. The Scotty books were my first experience with really writing humor, and for me, it was more about him and his reactions to all the crazy things happening around him–which is why I’ve been wondering if the books are camp or not lately. The original idea for the first one did strike me as funny; I just saw one of the dancers working at the Pub during Southern Decadence weekend maneuvering through the big crowd in the street to start his shift. I had a mental flash of a guy wearing only a day-glo lime-green thong being chased through the crowd with bad guys with guns also trying to fight their way through the enormous crowd of scantily clad partying gay men. Likewise, the original idea for Vieux Carre Voodoo came to me when I was walking through the Quarter and passed under a balcony just as they started watering their plants–so got wet. (It’s a regular hazard in the Quarter.) I then had an image flash into my head of the same thing happening to Scotty–only he was wearing a white bikini that became see-through when wet. Why would he be walking through the Quarter in a bikini? Because he’s going to ride in the Gay Easter Parade dressed as a sexy gay bunny–white bikini, cottontail, and bunny ears. There was one scene in Jackson Square Jazz where he finds a dead body, and sighs resignedly and says, “not again.” I wasn’t sure if that would get past my editor, but it did.

I think it’s easier when the humor comes organically out of the characters and the situations they’re in. I don’t write jokes, but I do imagine a scene that I think is amusing and then fit it into something I am working on, if that makes sense?

Humor is hard.

Is there any type of humor that you would deem inappropriate for your books?

No. I’m a sixty-two year old gay man who lived through the 1980s and has been doing HIV/AIDS work for the last twenty years, so my sense of humor is very dark. I’ve been told I have a very dry, caustic wit; but there’s a very fine line between dry wit and being bitchy and cruel. I don’t like to cross that line, but have.

A Streetcar Named Murder was nominated for both the Lefty and Anthony Awards for Best Humorous Mystery. It was a thrill, an enormous compliment, and a complete surprise in both cases. I’m sorry the ride had to end….

Here we are–the Best Humorous Mystery Anthony nominees and our moderator. (And why do I look at myself in this picture and hear Bianca del Rio saying “horizontal stripes are not a good look in your third trimester, sir.”)

East Bound and Down

Labor Day Monday, and time to readjust from “Greg Herren Author” back to my everyday life here in New Orleans. There’s really nothing like your own bed–but the bed I had at the Marriott Marquis in San Diego was probably the most comfortable bed I’ve had in a hotel to date. I had trouble sleeping the whole time I was there, but the bed was so comfortable that I always slept some and always managed to feel, if not completely rested, but at least recharged. But oh what a lovely time it was!

I flew home yesterday from San Diego, where I’ve been since Wednesday. My apologies for being lax in posting while I was away, and I hope you didn’t miss me too much, Constant Reader. But it was also nice being in a bubble for several days practically cut off from the outside world. I didn’t write a single email since Wednesday morning; I only deleted junk. I didn’t write anything, nor did I read anything once I’d checked into the hotel. But what a marvelous time it turned out to be. I love going to Bouchercon–it’s a marvelous escape from the everyday and being around writers (so many writers!) and readers (so many readers!) and it’s just so much fun. There are so many marvelous people in this business that I so rarely get to see in person, and I never have the opportunity to spend time with everyone that I would like to.

There’s also this weird thing about Bouchercons. You can go the entire time without seeing some of your friends who are there; and you never seem to bump into them. Last year in Minneapolis I hardly ever saw Christa Faust, and even then only in passing or from across a very crowded room. This year I bumped into her almost every time I turned around, and it was an absolute delight because I adore Christa. You also get to make new acquaintances and discover new writers, too. I love debut authors! It’s always amazing to find new authors and make new friends, see old friends–and yet there were so many people I only saw fleetingly in passing, or didn’t see at all. But it was incredibly lovely, really. I resisted temptation in the book room (some of the collectible booksellers had some old editions of the kids’ series–including the super-rare ones no one’s heard of–but I knew if I bought any books I’d have to pay to have them shipped home, and so that extra step was enough to trigger my laziness (and miserliness–I can be extravagant to a fault when I really shouldn’t be) to step in and say, no, you don’t need more copies for your collection even if you can replace some damaged ones with ones that look pretty new for a reasonable price. And I don’t regret not buying those books, either. (I will probably get the ones by new acquaintances, though.) I also had four tickets to get free books in the book room, so I picked up Death by Bubble Tea by Jennifer J. Chow; Her Last Affair by John Searles (who I interviewed for Lambda Book Report back when his first novel came out, and that leads to a great story I will save for another time); The Quarry Girls by Jess Lourey (whom I adore); and one other that I can’t remember, and I can’t seem to find it this morning. Oh, well. Mindy Carlson, who was on the panel I moderated, gave me a copy of her debut, Her Dying Day (which has the best ever opening!) when I ran into her in the lobby on my way to the airport. I can’t wait to read it!

I finished reading Kelly J. Ford’s marvelous The Hunt on the flight home to Dallas yesterday, and then moved on to Laura Lippman’s Prom Mom, both of which are superb. I am almost finished with the Lippman, and when I am finished with this I am going to my chair so I can finish it.

I am pretty much taking the day off from everything and resting. I had planned on going to the grocery store–I still might; it depends on how I feel later–but I am going to relax today. I did get home last night in time to watch LSU embarrass itself on national television last night, but it’s okay. It’s nice to have any expectations for the season gone after the first game, and now I can watch the national title race with idle curiosity while watching LSU get through it’s season with no expectations from them. I was very concerned that they were being over-hyped (everyone seemed to forget that after the big win over Alabama last year, we barely beat Arkansas and lost to Texas A&M before being embarrassed in the SEC title game by Georgia), but this is yet another example of when being right isn’t what you want and brings absolutely no satisfaction–Cassandra was hardly smug as Troy burned around her, after all. I am exhausted, despite the fantastic night’s sleep I got last night, so I think resting up is indeed the way to go for today. We have shows to catch up on, after all, and maybe I’ll even splurge on a movie.

It was a wonderful time. I love my friends in the crime fiction community, and I love that I am sort of known in it now more than I was? I had several people come up and ask about my books, or tell me how fun I am to watch on panels, but I am also beginning to think that I need to be maybe a bit more professional when talking about my own work on panels. Something to ponder as I move into the adulthood of my career (it turned twenty-one this year, after all, which is staggering). I am inspired, reinvigorated, and ready to prove myself worthy to be a part of the community again. I want to get back to my writing and dig into it and keep going and do really good work. Reading Kelly and Laura’s books are inspiring because they remind me to work harder, do better, dig deeper, and aspire for greatness more. I have broken down the barrier that was keeping me from reading novels, or at least was making me unable to focus, and now I hunger to read more. Once I finish Laura’s book I am moving on to S. A. Cosby’s new one, with Alison Gaylin’s marvelous new take on Robert Parker’s Sunny Randall series. (I will never stop marveling that I am friends with, or at least know, my writing heroes.)

And definite shout-outs to all the people who won Anthonys this year, and were nominated. It’s surreal to me to see how many nominees are friends; and it’s absolutely lovely to see that. Only a few winners weren’t friends–and how can you not be happy for friends to get recognition? I adore Catriona McPherson and S. J. Rozan; how delighted was I to lose to writers whose work I’ve admired for years and how thrilling to be in the same category with them? I don’t know Nancy Springer, the other to whom I lost, but I love Enola Holmes. And Kellye Garrett and Wanda Morris are not only incredible writers but wonderful women I am very proud to know. I love Barb Goffman, who has always been so kind and lovely to me ever since the first time I met her. I don’t know Martin Edwards, but from all accounts he is a very kind and lovely and generous person, and I share the TOC of School of Hard Knox with him. The Debut winner, Nita Prose, wasn’t there and I don’t know her, but I do have her book The Maid, and I hope to read it before the end of the year.

So no, I didn’t win any of the Anthonys I was nominated for. What a fucking honor for a gay man to be nominated for three (mainstream, MAINSTREAM not queer-specific) Anthony Awards in the same year for three different books, for anyone, really. I think the only other person to ever be up for three in the same year is S. A. Cosby (and what amazing company to be in, right?); others have been up for two in the same year before (as I was last year; this year Catriona McPherson was a double nominee). I have been nominated for seven Anthonys in total now, and so what if I have lost six times in a row? Awards are lovely, but I honestly don’t mind losing. I love to act like a bitter loser because, well, it’s funny to me. I did start realizing sometime during the pandemic that my “bitter loser” shtick might be insensitive–some people would kill to lose six times; some are never nominated once–and maybe the “bitter loser” shtick doesn’t play as well now as it used to? I don’t know, but it’s such a thrill for me to be nominated, and retrospectively, I’ve had a pretty amazing run: fifteen nominations from Lambda Literary nominations, seven-time Anthony nominee, and once each for the Lefty, the Agatha, the Macavity, and the Shirley Jackson. That’s pretty fucking amazing, and maybe I should finally recognize that maybe, just maybe, I’m pretty damned good at this writing thing? I do need to be better about the other aspects of the business–marketing and promotion and so forth–and since my brain doesn’t juggle as well as it used to, I need to start getting focused and figuring some things out. The rest of this year is going to be taken up mostly with dealing with medical issues (I get my new hearing aids tomorrow!) and I don’t know how much I am going to be able to do or what I can and can’t do; and everything is kind of up in the air now for the rest of the year.

That would have triggered my anxiety before, but I am at peace with it. My decision to override the anxiety and remain calm while traveling worked in both directions, and it was lovely to not get worked up or upset or irritated about anything. I managed to even get my bag from baggage claim, the shuttle to the parking lot, and then drive home without losing my cool–I didn’t even swear at a single driver–and I kind of want to keep that level of calm and cool going forward. I did experience some anxiety before I moderated the Humor and Homicide panel yesterday; I was brought in–not at the last minute, but far too late for me to get copies of the panelists’ books and read them to prepare–late but my word! What a group of amazing professionals I was blessed to moderate! You need to read their books; they are talented and funny and marvelous and I was totally blown away by them–and three of them were debut authors! There was J. D. O’Brien, whose debut novel Zig Zag, about a marijuana dispensary employee who plans to rob her employer, only for Westlake-like hijinks to ensue; the delightful Mindy Carlson, whose debut novel I already mentioned; the always wonderful Wendall Thomas, a seasoned pro whose latest, Cheap Trills, sounds incredible and I can’t wait to read; the witty and charming Jo Perry, who has a marvelous series from the point of view of a dead man and whose latest, Cure, sounds great; and Lina Chern, whose debut novel Play the Fool is about a tarot card reader trying to solve her best friend’s murder and sounds amazing. I had them read their book’s opening few sentences, and once I heard them, I knew it was going to be a breeze. It was wonderful! What a great break for me to get to moderate this panel and find even more great books to read. I could have talked to them about their books for hours. Afterwards, I realized I hadn’t even used half of the questions I had–always the sign of a great panel!

Speaking in public has always been difficult for me and always ramps up the anxiety (which I always thought was just stage fright). But now that I know what it is, I can sort of control it. I can’t control the adrenaline spike and what comes with it–the shaking hands, the talking too fast, the shakiness of my brain, the upset of my stomach–but I can control the mental part and not allow the anxiety to take over. It was very strange knowing I can’t control the physical response to the chemical imbalance but I can control the mental/emotional response, so instead of freaking the way I usually do before going on–I focused on making sure pre-panel that they were all comfortable, that I wanted them to talk themselves up with the goal of selling a book to everyone in the room, and basically, asked questions and got out of the way and let them shine like the stars they are–and did they ever! Especially when you remember I hadn’t sent them questions in advance to prepare; they each were speaking extemporaneously, which is impressive as hell. The nervous energy I handled by walking around briskly before the panel and talking to each of my panelists individually and staying hydrated. Yes, I drank water, limited myself to one cappuccino per day, drank iced tea for lunch instead of Coke, and tried very hard to remember to slow down and get over the FOMO I always feel. I did have some cocktails every night, but never enough to get more than a bit tipsy and paced myself more.

And now, I am going to head back to my chair and finish reading the new Lippman and maybe start reading the new Cosby. I have laundry to do, a dishwasher to empty, and basically, I am just going to relax as much as humanly possible today. I should probably make at least a minor grocery run; maybe not. But what a marvelous, marvelous time I had.

I am truly blessed.