If you’re into mysteries featuring macho-man private investigators and familiar tropes that have crowded the crime fiction genre for decades, don’t read anything by Cheryl A. Head. If, however, you dig mysteries that steer clear of clichés and delve into more intriguing territory, you’re going to want to pick up one of Head’s novels.
Which one? Doesn’t matter—they’re all damn good, damn entertaining, and damn fearless. Sorry for all the swearing; it’s just, Head is a badass. She takes her mysteries where most mysteries fear to tread—presenting a highly diverse cast of characters and exploring challenging social issues that grab you as a reader without knocking you over the head.
Book 4 of Head’s riveting Charlie Mack Motown Mystery series—Judge Me When I'm Wrong—just launched in October (via Bywater Books). Book 5 of the series—Find Me When I’m Lost—is due out in mid-April and already available for pre-order.
As busy as Head has been knocking out great novels, she was kind enough to let me bug her with a bunch of interview questions … and took the time to provide me with some very insightful, thought-provoking responses. So let's get to it!
Welcome, Cheryl, and congrats on your latest: Judge Me When I'm Wrong.This book—along with the three others in the Charlie Mack series—is excellent. I get that this isn’t actually a question, but I figured you wouldn’t hate receiving the praise.
Writers always love every bit of praise, so thank you!
The deeper you get into the Charlie Mack series, have you found it easier to keep things compelling—since you’re “in the groove”—or do you find it harder because readers are always expecting more excitement, twists, and surprises?
I’m finding it a bit harder to come up with overall case plots. The big ideas. I’m always my first reader, and I want to keep myself amused, engaged and learning something new. The concept for Book 5, Find Me When I’m Lost, was already in the back of my mind, but as I think of Book 6 and beyond, I have momentary panic about not having fresh material. In actuality, I know that won’t be the case because I have more ideas than Prince had songs in the vault. For instance, I know I want to explore more about the fight Charlie’s mother undertakes with Alzheimer’s. I know I want to focus on Don Rutkowski’s (Charlie’s business partner) internal machinations with racism. I want to introduce a new partner into the Mack Private Investigation firm. I just have to figure out how to seamlessly incorporate those ideas within one of Charlie’s investigations.
One of the many reasons readers (including myself) enjoy your novels is how deftly they rep the diversity that makes America America today. Your stories don’t shy away from important and often challenging themes and issues around diversity—while simultaneously keeping readers riveted and entertained. Who have been the biggest influences on you and your ability to write such real, daring, and captivating fiction?
Wow. Thank you for getting what I do and enjoying it. I’m jazzed by that.
I have to say I see myself as a bit of a race woman. By that I mean I think all the time about our country’s ongoing wrestle around diversity issues. In my opinion, we won’t live up to the potential we have as a country unless we confront the systemic issues of race which include class, public policy, religion, public education, poverty, etc.). I’m taking a small bite out of the apple to write about some of these issues through the prism of protagonist who is African American and lesbian. I feel compelled to do that. I want the kernels of truth I present to be ideas that build up our empathy for each other. I know, without a doubt, that people across the globe have many of the same aspirations, hopes and goals. These universal desires, at a very primal level, connect us as human beings.
I guess my best inspiration for writing about tough subjects is being a wide-eyed, open-eared observer. I also believe I’m very empathetic person. I try to pour a lot of that awareness into my writing. However, I haven’t yet surrendered myself to that process. If I do, I know I’ll write a very good book. I say “if” rather than “when” because to do so, I’ll have to give up my emotional control. I don’t do that very easily.
A little while back, author (and our mutual Twitter pal) Matt Coleman wrote a piece for Book Riot in which he opined that the best crime fiction authors today are women writers, writers of color, and writers from the LGBTQ community. Would you agree? Care to comment? And please, don’t let the fact that I’m a straight white male with thin skin influence your response! Bring it!
You asked for it, so I’m going to bring it. LOL.
Of course, Matt is a genius and a super-nice person. I totally agree with him. The glimpses of brilliance in literature, and in the arts in general, often come from creatives on the margins. There is something about being held back, unseen, discounted, pigeonholed, and ignored that makes one write with furious, truthful, authority. These stories are born of passion, pain, promises, perversion, perspective, pathology, pensiveness, pleasure, proximity, and purpose. They come from LGBTQ writers, writers of color, women writers, any group really outside of the privileged status of white, cis, male, straightness, and enrich our literary canon. There are so many contemporary mystery writers to point to as an example of this brilliance: Attica Locke, Steph Cha, Walter Mosley, Sujata Massey, Tracy Clark, Joe Ide, Penny Mickelbury, Shawn Cosby. I could go on for another ten minutes. And these are only the names of one group–writers of color, and in one literary genre–crime/mystery.
A lot has been written and said recently about the strides the publishing world’s making in terms of diversity. Do you feel enough is being done to bring new voices to crime fiction, or is there still a long way to go?
There is a lot being done to bring new voices to crime fiction, and still a lot to do. 2019 was a bad year for the crime writing community in terms of navigating diversity issues. There were just too many head-in-the-sand, tone deaf, bull-in-the-china shop bungling of things. We’ve all heard, and read, about the acts of commission and omission this year with some of our major conferences, and organizations in our community. Hopefully, 2020 will be smoother. Notice has been given, and I believe the community understands more precisely that embracing diversity as a bona fide value within a system is hard work. Not surface work. I could say more, but I’ll save it for a conference panel. LOL. On a positive note, I’ll point to the formation of the Crime Writers of Color group by Walter Mosley, Kellye Garret, and Gigi Pandian. It is a wonderfully effective support group.
When did you first realize you wanted to be a crime fiction author? What do you like most about writing in this genre? What do you find most challenging?
I guess I didn’t know I wanted to be a crime fiction writer until maybe after reading both Barbara Neely’s Blanche series, and early installments of Sue Grafton’s alphabet series. I’ve always been a fan of the genre. The bulk of my work as an adult (before taking an early retirement) was in television production, so I’ve always visualized mystery/crime stories and been a fan of the movie/TV versions of the genre. I’ve also been acutely aware of the diversity—or lack thereof—in those offerings.
I wrote my first mystery in four months. It was a cathartic exercise after a particularly grueling experience writing historical fiction. That first mystery novel (which I self-published) connected me to my current publisher and eventually became Book 1 of the Charlie Mack Motown Mystery series.
My only challenge is carving out the time to write. I love writing crime fiction. It gives me the opportunity to opine about the dark side of human nature, present the perspectives of the underdog, point to mankind’s shared commonalities, poke at power, celebrate those who are inherently heroic, and murder people who need to be killed.
Who are a few of your favorite authors? What was the last novel you read? What are you currently reading?
I’ve already mentioned some of my favorites. I read, and enjoy, the works of a lot of male authors because I really do like the tough protagonists; the archetypal noir loners with a code of honor. It’s the reason I love westerns so much. Some of the novels I’ve read recently include: Sarah Paretsky’s Shell Game—V.I. Warshawski is one likeable, kick-ass P.I.; Tara Laskowski’s One Night Gone—wonderful imagery; and one of the books in Alex Segura’s Pete Fernandez mystery series. On my bedside table—on rotation—is a Joe Ide novel and Loren Estleman’s Black and White Ball. My reading for the last month has been short stories, so I’m sort of behind on novels.
What can we look forward to in Book 5 of the Charlie Mack series? Do you have any plans to write something outside of that very popular and successful series?
Book 5 (out in April) is a complex story of family betrayal and murder, but there’s some fun, catty, fireworks between Charlie and her ex-husband’s new wife; and there’s been a change of personnel in Charlie’s P.I. firm, which adds additional intrigue.
I’ve been slowly working on a stand-alone set in Washington, DC with a new, male P.I. I’ll finish it sometime this spring. The one thing I came to grips with in writing the new piece is I don’t have the same affinity and affection for DC that I have for Detroit. So, Go Lions! And boo to the football team whose racist name I don’t speak aloud. Is that too much information? LOL
Is there anything you were hoping I’d ask but didn’t?
No. But I can tell you that I’ve decided 2020 will be my year to say “no.” I overcommitted in 2019 to work that was fun, like conferences and award-judging, and to things I believed in, like panels and presentations about diversity, but I didn’t have as much time this year to just think and write. In 2020, I’ll be thinking and writing and reading for pleasure. Maybe I’ll look for a writing retreat to facilitate meeting those goals.
That being said, thank you so much for the opportunity to respond to these thoughtful questions. And let me say, I admire your work—so keep on doing it! I look forward to reading your new novel in 2020.
Well, thank YOU, Cheryl—for the kind words, and for your time and candor. I wish you continued success with your writing and life, and look forward to reading everything you have coming down the pike!
My novels explore some really dark stuff. Stuff like terminal illness, voluntary euthanasia, serial killing, sex trafficking, drug addiction, dementia. Yes, I have sought professional help. No, it hasn't stopped me from tackling such grim topics. And here’s the thing: When reviewing a novel of mine—whether the book is about a terminally ill man who kills people, or about a man who kills terminally ill people, or about a man who pretends to be a pedophile to catch sex traffickers—most readers mention they found the book funny. Many say they laughed a lot. Some say they peed a little.
Those of you who’ve never read any of my books (and I know who you are—I’m making a list, checking it twice) may be thinking, “What kind of sociopath writes books that make light of such horrific topics and issues? And what kind of sociopaths read such books and laugh enough to need an adult diaper?”
First of all, go easy on my readers—they’re good people. Secondly, allow me to explain:
I don’t make light of people dying or killing. I don’t make light of cancer or the people suffering from it. I don’t make light of sex trafficking or drug addiction or dementia. What I do (or try to, at least) is show how humans—when stuck in the darkest of spaces—will scratch and claw at the walls until even the tiniest speck of light breaks through. Humor is a natural survival mechanism, sonaturally I try to weave some into books about people facing serious adversity. My aim isn't for readers to laugh at the darkness but rather to laugh in it. I never try to force “the funny” (like I sometimes do on my blog or when trying to embarrass my daughter in public). Instead I try to use the funny to appropriately juxtapose the frightening and the fierce.
If you were to ask me what I’m most proud of in my writing career, I’d make no mention of awards or Hollywood options or major book deals (especially not that last one, since I’ve never had a major book deal.) What I’m most proud of are the times when readers—particularly those who’ve personally experienced the same/similar tragedy or peril featured in a book of mine—reach out to say they appreciated how the book’s humor elevated the story rather than detracted from it. How it elicited laughter without disrespecting the dire straits the characters faced. As a writer, there’s only one thing more rewarding than hearing that a reader “got” exactly what you were going for: Hearing that what you were going for made a lasting impact on a reader and helped to ease their suffering, relieve their grief, make their day (or even just their hour or minute).
That’s what novels by the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Kurt Vonnegut, Elmore Leonard and Sara Gran do for me. Such books break my heart while making me bust a gut. They show humanity at its worst yet somehow manage to restore my faith in it. They cause me to cringe and clench and cheer and laugh in equal measure. A few other authors who effectively pepper their powerful, gritty fiction with humor are Joe Clifford, Rachel Howzell Hall, Nico Walker, and Will Christopher Baer.
If you look at the reviews for any of my novels, you’ll see plenty of readers starting off with something like, “I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into with this book” or “I was a little nervous about cracking this one open,” but what soon follows is usually something like, “I couldn’t believe I was laughing along with and rooting for these characters” or “Hilarious and delightful, though also heart-wrenching.” (For a perfect example of such a review, click HERE.)
I love receiving reviews like those. Not because they’re positive and full of praise (though sure, that’s nice, too); rather because I love it when readers take a chance on books with topics that worry or rattle or frighten them—books they fear may cross the line or trigger painful emotions or memories. And I love it even more when those readers, after diving into such books, walk away rewarded for their risk—feeling not only entertained but also touched and moved. Perhaps even inspired.
Just like how I feel every time I discover a novel that dares to laugh in the dark.
How about you? Have you ever bought or borrowed a book you thought might scar you for life but that ended up moving you to tears and laughter? I’d love to hear about it—please share in the comments section below.
Long before I became a novelist, I used to imagine being one. I thought about how cool it must be to write all day and roam the night. I thought about the freedom of having no boss, nobody telling you what to do on the page or off it. Just infinite creativity, full expression, pure human experience.
So, yeah, I used to daydream about life—particularly nightlife—as a fiction writer.
And then sh*t got real.
Here’s how I imagined a typical night in a novelist’s life before I started writing long fiction fifteen years ago:
You sidle up to the bar and nod at Charlie. You needn’t utter a word—Charlie knows your drink. Has known it for years. Knew it before your first novel changed the landscape. Knew it before you declined the National Book Award because you wanted to stay hungry. Knew it before the signed photo of you hanging on the wall behind the bar was hung on the wall behind the bar.
Bourbon, neat.
The beautiful woman you’ve pretended not to notice sitting on the barstool to your left, babysitting a martini, glances at you, then at the photo, then at you again. “Hey, isn’t that you up there?” she asks, pointing at your framed black-and-white smugness.
You shake your head. “It was.”
The woman knits her brow, then turns her attention back to her martini.
Charlie hands you a lowball filled too high. You hand him a twenty—you try to, anyway. He shakes his head and says it’s on the house. You shake your head and say he’s an enabler, then drop the twenty into the tip jar.
Charlie tells you he just finished your latest book. Says it’s your best one yet. You tell him you didn’t tip him to lie to you. He laughs, then asks what you’re working on now.
“Just this bourbon,” you say.
The martini woman scoffs. “You know, being so clever all the time actually isn’t.”
You nod and tell her you’re going to borrow that line.
“Be my guest,” she says. “You could use some new lines—I’ve read your last two novels.” She then knocks back her martini, grabs her bag from a hook below the bar, and leaves without another word.
And just like that, you’re smitten. But you’re not going to let falling in love ruin your mood.
The air. It’s thick with booze. Broken hearts. Bad intentions.
It’s going to be a good night.
And here’s how a typical night in a novelist’s life (mine, anyway) ACTUALLY looks:
“What the hell are you doing in there?” your wife shouts from the living room. “You said you were just going to your writing office to grab your phone. Come back here and watch this show with me.”
“Sorry baby, still looking for my phone,” you say as you continue typing ferociously yet as quietly as possible. “Be right there—didn’t realize the commercials were over already.”
Your wife reminds you that Netflix doesn’t show commercials and that you yourself had asked her to pause the show. And that you had promised you wouldn’t sneak off to write tonight.
“I’m not writing,” you say, your fingers tapping as fast as lightning and as light as a feather on the keyboard. You haven’t had a creative spurt like this in weeks. What’s flying onto the screen might be the best thing you’ve written in years.
“Then why do I hear tapping?” your wife shouts from three rooms away.
You stop typing and take a swig from one of the cans of Monster you keep hidden in your writing office and say, “That was just my fingertips drumming on the desk to help me think where I left the darn phone.” You then take a swig from the flask of vodka you keep hidden behind the cans of Monster.
Your wife says don’t worry, she’ll call your phone to help you find it.
“Wait! I think I know where it is now,” you say while an idea for an amazing plot twist for Chapter 16 pops into your head and has you frothing at the mouth, though the frothing may just be from the energy drink. “Yup, here it is—it had slid under the printer.” You take another swig of Monster, and two more swigs of vodka.
“Finally,” your wife says. “Now get back here so we can finish watch—”
“Ohhh nooo,” you call out slowly, stalling to give you time to finish your notes for the killer scene you just thought of. “There are a bunch of text messages from Ted. He says Janet just dumped him and he’s in a really dark place. Says to please call him. Says he needs someone to talk to or he might do something crazy.”
“Oh my god, call him!” your wife cries out. “Poor Ted!”
“Okay, calling him now. Thanks for understanding, baby. So sorry—I promise we’ll finish that episode later tonight.”
You feel awful and you don’t deserve her but more importantly you just bought yourself at least an hour of uninterrupted writing time, fueled by your unstoppable creative spirit and your Monster.
But first you need to tweet something witty about #writerslife and #amwriting. Lucky for you, your wife doesn’t have a Twitter account.
You send out a tweet about how nothing stands between you and your novel, and the tweet already has two likes from hardworking, dedicated writers just like you who are busy browsing Twitter instead of writing. Time to get back to your manuscript. But first, you take another quick peek at your tweet to make sure it doesn’t contain any typos or anything and … SWEET—another like!
Okay, no more screwing around. This novel isn’t going to write itself, and you can’t risk falling out of the zone you’re in right now. You click back to the manuscript and … damn it. You just realized the amazing plot twist you came up with a few minutes ago has a huge hole in it and will never work.
No biggie. You know you’ll come up with an even better twist by the time you get to Chapter 16. In the meantime, you’ll just keep working on Chapter 2, moving the story forward, building tension, increasing the stakes—basically creating a gritty crime thriller that will be impossible for readers to put down. You’ve got this! But first, you check your email.
In your inbox is a message from an agent who a month ago asked to see the manuscript for the novel you finished six months ago but have yet to get published. Before, opening the email, you pray to God this is “the one,” then apologize to God about you being agnostic up until now. You remind God you gave five dollars to a homeless man the other day, then click on the email to open the message. The agent says she’s really glad you gave her a chance to read your manuscript (cool, cool) and says she really enjoyed it (yeah?!) and thinks the book will have no problem finding a publisher (YES!), but that she doesn’t feel she’s the right person to champion it and thus cannot offer you representation at this time.
You shout a string of obscenities, and your wife asks if everything’s okay. “Yes, sorry,” you say. “Just letting Ted know how upset I am about him and Janet splitting up.” Your wife tells you to try to exhibit a more positive vibe for Ted. You say sure thing, then cover your mouth with your mouse pad and scream the rest of the obscenities you know into it.
You take a few deep breaths and start to calm down. You convince yourself there are plenty of agents out there who’d kill to rep you, and that the book in question is your breakout novel. You slap yourself in the face, tell yourself to toughen up, and vow to keep plugging away at the new manuscript no matter what as soon as you check to see how your tweet is doing.
Your tweet has no new likes. Also, you just received another rejection notification via email. And worst of all, your flask is empty. You decide to use all this frustration and dejection as fuel, to have it ignite your soul and elicit from you the most harrowing and gripping set of chapters you’ve ever written. Halfway through the first sentence, you realize you haven’t checked the sales of your existing books since dinner. You check. You haven’t sold any books since last week when your mother bought yet another copy and forced it on a friend.
You start crying a little—partly due to your failures as a writer, and partly due to Ted and Janet breaking up. Then you remember Ted and Janet didn’t actually break up, but this doesn’t cheer you up because you’ve never really liked Janet.
You pop one of the Xanax you keep hidden behind the Monster and the vodka in your office.
Your wife knocks on your office door. “You still talking to Ted?” she asks.
“Hold on a second, Ted,” you say into your pretend phone, which you then pretend to cover even though your office door is closed and your wife can't see you. “Yeah," you say to her. "Poor guy’s a mess.”
Your wife says she thought she heard you crying. You say that was actually Ted— that you accidentally put him on speaker for a moment there. She asks why she hasn’t heard you say anything besides several curse words since you started talking to Ted. You tell her Ted just needs someone to listen to him right now.
Another plot twist idea pops into your head. You tell your wife you feel bad for making Ted hold like this and need to get back to lending him your ear.
“Sorry about that, Ted,” you say into your pretend phone loud enough for your wife to hear. “Please continue. Yeah, you were saying you don’t know how you’re going to get through this, and I was telling you I know you will, and that I’m here for you, and that you have so much to live for.”
Through the door, your wife says you’re a good friend. A good man. A great husband. Says she’s lucky to have you in her life.
You take a break from staring at your manuscript to cover your pretend phone, then tell your wife, “Ditto.”
“Oh, and by the way,” your wife says, a little bite in her voice, “I have your phone.”
She pauses for your heart attack, then says, “You left it on the couch before running to your writing office to find it.”
Says she was just on a real phone call—with Janet. Says Janet’s doing great. Ted too.
Says she’s going to stay with them for the next few days, maybe longer.
Says, “That ought to give you plenty of time to write. Jackass.”
Before any of you unsubscribe, un-follow, un-friend me, and/or urge my wife to divorce me, please note that what you just read is full of hyperbole and over-dramatizations for the sake of entertainment. I assure you I would never cover my mouth with my mouse pad—that thing has mold growing on it from all the vodka and Monster I’ve spilled on it. Also, I don’t have any friends named Ted, or in general.
If you would like to contribute funds to help pay for the therapy Greg needs, you can do so by going to his Amazon author page, clicking on one (or all) of the books featured, then clicking the “Buy Now” icon.
Those of you who’ve been on my mailing list and/or have followed me on social media for a while now (THANK YOU) know I usually come out with a new novel every 12-18 months. You’ve likely heard me express how much joy I get from writing, how much pride I take in it. How much I love creating characters who are decent people deep down but who make questionable decisions and take big risks for what they feel is right or just—characters you would probably never hang out with in real life but whom you can’t resist rooting for in a book.
Many of you have even read my books, and some of you even like them. A few of you have even told me you always look forward to whatever book I happen to be working on. I’m extremely grateful to all of you—especially you folks in that second and third group!
With all that said, I have an announcement that might bum some of you out—initially, at least:
It may be a while before you see another novel with my name on it.
No, I’m not giving up writing. Quite the contrary, actually—I’m trying to go bigger with it. That is, I’m aiming for a book deal. It remains to be seen whether this deal will be with a “Big 5” publishing house, a Big 5-adjacent publishing house, or one of several highly respected small presses that specialize in fresh and daring crime fiction/thrillers. But one thing is for sure (I think)—I’m done with putting out books myself as an indie author under my own imprint (White Rock Press).
Now, before any of my indie/self-published author colleagues un-follow, un-friend, or un-talk to me, let me make something perfectly clear: I still have the utmost respect for—and will continue to support and spread the word about—the many folks who continue to hustle and grind every day to write, publish and peddle good books without the assistance of a literary agent and/or a publishing house. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Many of the best books I’ve read are by authors who fall under the indie or self-published category. Having a literary agent and a traditional book deal doesn’t by definition make an author superior to or more talented than an author who doesn’t. Yes, some of the top writers out there today are “traditionally” published. But being traditionally published isn’t the de facto sign of writing talent—not by any stretch.
So then why, you may ask, have I decided to hand in my indie badge and set my sights on a “traditional” publishing deal?
I’ll tell you why:
I’m tired.
Not the most inspiring reason, but it’s true. Now, to be clear, I’m not tired of writing. I’ll never tire of writing. I currently spend half my waking life working on novels, and will continue to. But I am tired of spending the other half of my waking life doing the following:
lining up (and paying out of my pocket) editors, proofreaders, cover designers, and formatters for my books;
constantly shouting into the vast digital void, “Check out my book(s)!”
deeply discounting those books (and shouting into the vast digital void about said deep discounts) to boost sales and gain new readers;
doing everything I possibly can to single-handedly grow my mailing list and followers and author platform so that every time I come out with a new book I already have more people who know about it than I did for the previous one.
I’m also tired of NOT doing certain things. Mainly, not being the best father and husband and son and brother and friend I can be because I’m so busy doing all of the above tasks—all the non-writing activities an indie author has to do to have even a remote shot at having their book make a bang and not just a whimper in the world. (NOTE: While I’ll certainly help a lot with the above tasks after I get a publisher, I no longer wish to be a publisher.)
In addition, I’m tired of making traditional publishing wrong—making excuses for why I have yet to land a literary agent or a book deal in the six or so years since I decided to start taking my fiction career seriously. I’m tired of lying to myself—telling myself the only reason I’ve yet to make a bigger splash in the book world is because my novels are “too edgy” or because lit agents and publishing houses are interested only in formulaic, commercial fiction, or because you have to know somebody big in the biz who wants to help you. I’m tired of the fact that I’ve stopped even trying to get a book deal because I've convinced myself it’s too hard these days, or because the traditional publishing process is sooo sloooow (that's true, but not a good reason to stop trying), or because—gag—I’m an artist, not a sell-out.
I want to challenge myself. I want to try to go bigger and wider with my books (while still spending quality time with my family and the few friends I have left). I want to prove to myself I’m tough enough to endure the inevitable rejections and gut-punches and body blows that happen to an author when they try to jump into the traditional publishing ring. And, even more so, I want to see if I’m tough enough to remain grounded in the event that I actually succeed. From what I’ve witnessed, it’s not easy for authors who’ve hit it big to be authentically humble, grateful, compassionate, and generous. And it may very well not be.
But I'm going to do everything I can to find out for myself.
What’s that—you want to know what you can do to help? Aw, that’s so kind of you to offer! Hmm, you sort of caught me off guard with that thoughtful question, so it may take me a while to … okay, I’ve got it! The following are some things you can do to help let the publishing world know I’m an author worth taking a chance on:
Buy my existing books.Agents and publishers like to see that an author they're considering has a decent sales record. So, if you’ve enjoyed my posts and book excerpts but have yet to buy or read any of my novels, go on and give one a shot. Or give two or three a shot. Okay, fine—buy everything I’ve ever written. I’m not going to sit here and argue with you.
Tell your people. Those of you who’ve read my novels and enjoyed them, please spread the word to your friends, family, and colleagues whose taste in literature may be as awesome as yours is.
Tell complete strangers. Why do you insist on living in a bubble when it comes to advancing my writing career? I feel it’s high time you expanded your efforts and began promoting my books to the reading world at large. This can easily be done by posting reviews on Amazon or Goodreads, as well as by quitting your job to form a massive Greg Levin Fan Club that travels the globe and the talk-show circuit singing the praises of my fiction.
Tell your agent or publisher. A renowned author of crime thrillers recently reached out to let me know she loved my work. She then offered to refer me to her agent. Which begs the question: Why isn’t EVERY renowned author of crime thrillers reaching out to me and doing the same? I mean, is that so much to ask?
All kidding aside (okay,most kidding aside), I'm very excited about the new path I've decided to take through the publishing woods. Sure, I may get lost, or torn to shreds by a Grizzly, or trapped under a tree and gnawed to death by a squirrel. But there's also a chance I make if through the forest fully intact—having survived on squirrel stew and bear steaks—and with a book deal in hand. We'll have to wait and see. But one thing's for sure: I will never again use a forest metaphor to end an important announcement about my writing career.
NOTE: My (hopefully) next novel, INTO A CORNER, has been finished since June and has drawn the interest of several literary agents. So now the waiting and wishing and praying begins. My apologies for inadvertatnly teasing you by announcing earlier this year that the book would be available the beginning of this month. I assure you I had every intention of launching it then, but have since banged my head and developed delusions of grandeur. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to run—I'm late for a lunch with Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, and Margaret Atwood at Cormac McCarthy's house.
E.A. Aymar has been described as “one of the most promising and talented hard-boiled crime writers of his generation.”
I’d like to add “hardest-working” to that description. In addition to recently launching his latest critically acclaimed crime thriller, The Unrepentant(Down & Out Books, March 2019), Aymar’s writes the monthly column “Decisions and Revisions” for the Washington Independent Review of Books, and serves as the Managing Editor of The Thrill Begins—the International Thriller Writers' online resource for aspiring and debut thriller authors.
Add to all that the fact that Aymar also runs the Noir at the Bar series in the Washington, D.C. area and is often invited to speak at a variety of crime fiction/writing events nationwide, and you begin to wonder how in the hell he had any time to speak to me for the following interview:
Welcome, E.A.—great to virtually speak to you!
Thank you for interviewing me, Greg! A few people have recommended I read your work, and I’ve since started (more on that later), and I’m really pleased we’ve had the chance to meet.
Cool, and ditto! Now let’s jump right in:
Many would consider humor and sex trafficking to be oxymoronic (trust me, I know), and yet your new novel, The Unrepentant, has garnered much critical acclaim in spite of—or perhaps dueto—it’s bold blending of humor with unspeakable crimes. What compelled you to write this book in such a way?
I think it needed the humor, you know? It was such a dark topic and, in the early drafts, a dark book. One of the early readers was the writer Alan Orloff, and his first note back to me was, “Well, that’s depressing.” Which is a very Alan Orloff thing to say.
But he was right, and that was helpful. Because I’d forgotten an important element of writing—the reader. I wanted to create a no-holds-barred story, and I included moments of graphic violence, but those instincts originally overwhelmed me. We don’t read fiction for an exhaustive portrayal of unforgivable actions—and, even if I’m wrong about that, it’s not what I want to write. You need to include hope.
I keep thinking of this book as a dark canvas, but one cut with moments of light. Humor offers light.
When someone in an elevator hears you have a new book out and asks you what The Unrepentant is about, what’s your quick pitch to get them hooked and to keep them from calling security?
“A young woman escapes a group of criminals and realizes, to fully free herself, she needs to kill them all. If you liked Kill Bill but didn’t think it went far enough, you’d like this book! …Wait, why are you getting out of the elevator here? This isn’t even your floor.”
Spending months researching and writing about dangerous topics can be emotionally and psychologically taxing. Do you, like me, self-medicate and watch rom-coms to cope with it all, or have you found healthier outlets (meditation? yoga? a sensory deprivation chamber?) to help you endure the darkness you put on pages?
What I wrote was nothing compared to what I read, or the experiences that were relayed to me. And that helped a great deal. My job was much easier than the men and women who work with victims of trauma, and I never forgot that.
But there are always the scarring images or stories, or the things you hear and realize you won’t forget. And that can be very tough to deal with. I can usually distance myself emotionally from that, but I know a lot of writers who can’t. Particularly if they’ve experienced a similar trauma in their lives.
But it does help to realize that the horrors you’re writing about are never as bad as the horrors people experienced. And it becomes a duty to relay them, as best as you can. I’ve said before that I think writers have a duty not to look away, but that depends on what you write about, of course. I managed to gaze at this issue steadily…even though there were times when my gaze broke.
I saw that one of the stops on your current book tour was your old high school. That’s pretty cool. But what kind of principal brings an author of a book like yours in to speak to an auditorium filled with raging hormones and not-yet fully-developed frontal lobes? More importantly, did the cool kids from the school invite you to sit at their cafeteria table afterward?
It was a lot of fun! And I invited myself—a teacher at the school is a friend, and I reached out to her about the idea. Joe Clifford had recommended it, and I took his advice…and it was bad advice. Why did I ever listen to Joe Clifford?
Actually, it wasn’t a bad experience at all, but it was an exhausting one. I talked to groups of about 60-80 kids for the entire day, and I was WORN when it was over. The thing that surprised me was that the kids actually asked questions afterward. I thought they’d sit there, kind of sullen and bored, but they were really engaged. And their questions were sharp! Do I worry about a likable protagonist? What were the steps I took to having a published book? How do you know when to curtail violence?
The principal actually did a show up for one of the talks, and she walked out. And I didn’t swear or anything! But that’s okay. It seems like a very “writer” thing for a figure of authority to disapprove of you, right?
And, no, the cool kids barely acknowledged me. Which, to be fair, is also a very writer thing.
When not busy writing and traveling around corrupting young minds, you serve on the board of the International Thriller Writers (ITW), are the managing editor of The Thrill Begins (ITW’s awesome online resource), and run the Noir at the Bar series for the D.C. area. So my question is, do you rely on caffeine, amphetamines and/or some other performance-enhancing substance to get everything done?
You know, I do drink too much caffeine. I’m really trying to get better about that.
Right now it’s all fine. Everything I do is something I enjoy doing, and that helps a lot. If I didn’t like it, it’d truly be a burden. But I love writing columns for the Independent and working with ITW and running the N@Bs for D.C.
It took me a long time to get published. I started writing seriously in 1997, finished my first book in 2003, and my first book was published in 2013. And The Unrepentant is the first book I’ve written to be widely reviewed and read. So this is all wonderful for me. I’m forever grateful, and excited to call writers I long admired peers and friends. It’s never tiring.
What authors have been your biggest influences as a writer? In what ways, if any, has your Panamanian heritage informed your writing?
The two biggest influences are probably Anne Tyler and John Updike. They’re not the most likely candidates for crime fiction, but I loved their use of prose and domestic drama.
And then, for crime fiction, I love Lawrence Block and Megan Abbott. I can’t think of two other authors I have such urgency to read, or who continually put out wonderful work.
I was born in Panama, and half my family lives there. I went there a lot growing up, and it’s important for me that my son has those same experiences. But Panama as a country doesn’t factor into my writing; rather, the experience of being mixed, or a minority, does.
Because of my mixed race, I’ve always been cast just outside or barely inside social or racial circles, and that relationship has given me a good perspective on people…and I think good training as a writer. I’ve never really belonged somewhere, and that used to be an isolating feeling. That’s changed. I go to malls nowadays, and I see interracial couples everywhere. It’s lovely, and gives me hope that my son (himself Asian and Latin) will never feel that type of isolation.
But for me, that “outsider” status has never left, and it continually informs my characters. Often in ways I’m not conscious of, which I think is helpful.
Who are you currently reading? Are there any up-and-coming authors of crime/noir/thrillers you are especially excited about and see a big future for? What do you mean I’m not one of them?!
Right now I’m reading Jeffery Deaver because I’m moderating a panel he’s going to be on, and I need to get my shit together.
But there are a lot of writers nowadays that mean a lot to me. Gabino Iglesias, Nik Korpon, Sujata Massey, Eryk Pruitt, Jen Conley, Sarah M. Chen, Jennifer Hillier, Shannon Kirk, Tom Sweterlitsch, J.J. Hensley (really anyone who contributes to The Thrill Begins as one of our regular bloggers is a writer I hold in high regard, which is why I chose them)…I could easily go on.
And, honestly, as I mentioned earlier, I’m reading your novel In Wolves’ Clothing and digging it! I had to stop to read Deaver for this panel at the Washington Writers Conference, but I’m excited to come back to your work. The only reason I haven’t finished it is Deaver. Blame him.
Care to tell us a little about what you’re working on next?
I got a new thriller in the works, but my next thing will be a sequel (of sorts) to The Night of the Flood. Sarah M. Chen and I are working on the edits right now and it’s exhausting and, even worse, she doesn’t seem willing to do most of the work this time. But that will hopefully be out in 2020. It all depends on how much I can convince Sarah to do everything and give me all the credit. Fingers crossed!
Well, Sarah and I are virtual friends (and she was part of a feature on this blog a couple of years ago), so I’ll see if I can help convince her to carry all the weight again. But don’t get your hopes up—I’m not very convincing, plus Sarah’s too wise to ever listen to me.
Okay, time to wrap this up. Thank you very much, E.A., for taking time out of your insane schedule to chat. (It’s rare, and possibly even illegal, for two men who’ve written novels about sex trafficking to converse.) Here’s to the continued success of The Unrepentant, and to you claiming a seat at the cool kids table sometime soon!
To learn more about E.A. Aymar and his work, visit his website, or check him out on Amazon or Twitter.