Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Trust, It Ain't About the Money

What ain't about money?


Writers don't write to make lots of money.

Okay, I shouldn't generalize. It only takes one red car to kill the statement 'All cars are white.' Or one literary novelist makin' it rain up in the hizzouse to prove me wrong.

So: many writers, the writers I know, the writers I admire, the writers I friend on Facebook, the writers who still have day jobs, don't write just to make money.

Money is nice. A nice, "Wow, and I get this, too?!" Money is validation. Money is gravy ... and I like gravy. In a house with a mouse, in a car, near and far. I like gravy. But I made gravy, ahem, money, before selling novels. Doing discovery for ARCO. Stocking the Levi's wall at Miller's Outpost. Stuffing envelopes for almost every non-profit organization I've worked for. Anyone can make money. That dog that was in 'The Artist'? He's made a lot of money. Whitney Houston, rest her soul, has made more money in her death than I've made in my life. So, yeah: Dead People see Dead Benjamins.

So, if it ain't about the ends, why is it about?

I love words. I love story. I enjoy my disbelief when observing people and their actions and I want to share that disbelief through the best way I know how: with a pen and pad. I sing but I don't pen great songs like Bernie Taupin. I play piano but I don't compose like Gershwin. I write.

And I write because I must. Because I can. Because someone has to tell you, yes you, that there's a dead body (real or imagined) in that alley over there because you need to know so that we can all stop the monster who's doing scary s*&t to other citizens.

And books are my vehicle for doing that, a modern day, Here Thar Be Monsters!

I hope that makes sense.

And yes, this is a reactionary post.

And no, they didn't say nothin' 'bout my momma.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Great Review for NOKYH!!!

Nina Sankovitch of Read All Day just posted an INCREDIBLE review for No One Knows You're Here. I was in tears as I read it. For real, though. I was. Here's is the part that really... whew.

Howzell is the Sue Grafton of her generation, with a bit more social conscience and street cred. Like Grafton’s Kinsey Milhone, Syeeda is determined to be her own woman, solving crimes and facing down danger, and protecting her own body — and heart — as ferociously as she hunts down bad guys. I hope to see more, much more of Syeeda (Ms. Howzell, you hear me?) and I look forward to reading another novel starring the scrappy, savvy, and stalwart Syeeda.

Read the rest of the review here.