Now 82 years young, Ruth Rendell, as I recently discovered, is author of more than 60 books, most of them crime fiction with a heavy psychological bent, including the Inspector Wexford series. She is master of the why-dunnit. Upon stumbling across her books at the library, I’ve become an instant fan. She is a contemporary/friend of P.D. James, sits for the Labour Party in the House of Lords, and is a former journalist. Over her decades as a novelist she has taken a particular interest in women’s issues, domestic violence, and the status of women in society.

All great credentials as far as I’m concerned.

I have no doubt she greatly influenced Elizabeth George and Tana French, both incredible contemporary novelists whom I urge you to read if you haven’t already. What sets Rendell apart from the pack is that she is dark, dark, dark. Not bloody, mind you, but DARK.

To begin the Wexford series, start with “From Doon with Death”. Right now, everyone is scrambling around in the novel trying to figure out who “Doon” is and why he has done this awful thing.

Granada made a television series of 48 Wexford episodes, which are available for rental. And they’ve dramatized several of her other novels as well. I just watched “The Master of the Moor”, which no doubt will give me nightmares for weeks. It stars Colin Firth. You will love it, you will hate it, and it will drive you crazy!

Beach weather is upon us…at least for today. For mystery nuts, these are great summer reads. Also, coming this month to an indie bookstore near you are Tana French’s fourth novel, “The Broken Harbor”–Irish noir at its finest, and from Wyoming the next in Craig Johnson’s Walt Longmire series, “As The Crow Flies.” Johnson’s sheriff has got his own TV series beginning June 3 on A&E. (This is the main reason I signed up for cable. Seriously.) It’s called, simply, “Longmire”.

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When my son Ian was small, maybe a year old, I discovered Maurice Sendak at a darling little children’s book store on NE Broadway in Portland. “In the Night Kitchen” depicted a trio of somewhat menacing chef/bakers. The image promised a bit of mischief and madness–not too much, mind you, but enough to stir things up a bit. I knew by the words Sendak used, the cadence, the fun, that I would never tire of reading it aloud. With gusto.

The book went home with me, where it instantly became the household  favorite. Mickey was our hero. “Morning cake” became our household term for the goodies we’d purchase at Helen Bernhard Bakery for weekend breakfast treats. And this is no exaggeration, I read that book thousands of times, often twice a day. I never tired of it and neither did Ian and, later, Wynne.

And then there was Max in “Where the Wild Things Are”. Max was the young, terrified Maurice Sendak, according to a radio interview I heard yesterday. And the monsters, the wild things, were his relatives, “big and loud, with moles and nose hairs”. When Sendak spoke in interviews about ”monsters” I understood his childhood fears and uncertainties. They were mine as well. “Childhood is a terrible time,” he said. He got it.

Sendak understood and embraced children. He understood their issues and fears because such things are universal. And through his lifetime body of work he  addressed these issues in a secret language we can all understand. He transformed our “monsters” into lushly illustrated poetry. He opened us up, both children and adults. To me, Maruice Sendak was a rock star.

Maurice Sendak, may you rest in peace. Ian, may you be at the ready to give him a well-deserved hero’s welcome.

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“When will the book be out?”

I wish I could say next month, but no. Not next month. Not before Christmas. I wish there was better news.

The truth is, it may be a very long time indeed. I self-published An Unholy Alliance. iUniverse produced the book, I even spent money on a publicist. I spent my own money, did tons of legwork, took a lot of knocks, and have decided against doing it the same way again.

Therefore, sometime in May I begin my search for an agent. I expect this process to be long and arduous And once representation is found and the agreement signed, the agent will market the book to potential publishers.

This, my friends, could take years. But that is OK. It’s the process, and I am fascinated with Process. (Well, maybe not totally. I’ve never been great at deferred gratification.)

What I do know is that satisfactory and successful as the last venture was, I am ready to ramp it up a bit. I may lose my patience and take things into my own hands yet another time. If I do, it still will be a very different experience than the last one simply because I have learned so much over the last three years. For now I am excited about giving “traditional” publishing at least a fair shot. And you will be the first to know what’s what.

More about self- versus traditional in a later instalment.

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We love the superhuman scale of a good drama–from the doing of impossible deeds, to the resolution of a star-crossed romance, to the solving of that quirky, sordid, and convoluted mystery. One of the most enduring of modern mysteries is John LeCarre’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

If you are not familiar with this book, you might want to change that. It is a classic any way one chooses to view it.  And there now exist two film versions–one the television series made by BBC in 1979 starring Sir Alec Guiness, and more recently the 2011 motion picture starring Gary Oldman.

Both excellent Smileys. But the BBC series managed what the motion picture failed (for me) to do. It incrementally built dramatic tension by the classic method of progress versus setback, each one more dramatic than its predecessor, until the grand finale–which in this case is the unveiling of the villain and his subsequent death.

When a film version of a book is this good, one must thank not only the book’s author but also the screenwriter–in the BBC instance, Arthur Hopcraft. Kudos go to director John Irvine, and of course Guiness/Smiley. All managed to bring the viewer into this high stakes drama and keep us on board every minute through the careful orchestration of dramatic tension.

Writers know there is a formula for producing the successful screenplay, just as there is one for writing a captivating novel. At the base there must be a good story. The viewer needs to be hooked into caring deeply about the outcome. This usually happens when the heroine’s character unfolds through how she attempts to overcome adversity.

So when you see a wonderful tv series or movie, in addition to the actors, directors, and cinematographers, thank a writer.

Here arejust a few additional examples of screenwriters making excellent use of dramatic tension: To Kill a Mockingbird (did you watch it last Saturday?), The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo  et al (Swedish version as I haven’t yet seen the American), True Grit (both film versions are excellent), Million Dollar Baby (based on the story by F.X. Toole, dramatized by Paul Harris), The Wire and The Sopranos (both HBO television series utilizing the talents of several screenwriters), The King’s Speech (original screenplay by David Seidler), Downton Abbey (dramatized by Julian Fellowes).

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I love museums–big ones like the Met , little ones like the one Wynne and I stumbled across in Juneau, Alaska–art, craft, history, natural history, maritime, the Queen’s jewels, you-name-it. (Old castles are a particular favorite of mine because they encompass all of the above, plus a lot of lifestyle stuff one wouldn’t see elsewhere.)

Something happens to the brain on museums. I first noticed this when I worked at Newberg High School. We’d take students to the Portland Art Museum and spend 90 minutes. After each of these trips, productivity shot up about 300% the next day and gradually tapered off over the following two weeks. They’d write about it, talk about it. Whatever projects they were working on suddenly blossomed!

And it’s not just kids. It happens with me. Which is why a week without a blog is not a bad thing. I returned from Seattle inspired and energized. Of course there was the remainder of the week to be dealt with, catching up, etc. But no matter. The good has been sown. The productivity has shot up. I suggest you try it yourself sometime.

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