Bop City Swing - A Match Made in Noir Heaven by M.E. Proctor

One of the nice things about having a recurring spot here at DSD (not to mention my time spent editing Rock and a Hard Place) is that, in my years writing for the site, I've made a lot of friends, almost all of whom are more productive than I am. While I may write a and publish a story or two a year, not to mention the novels that never see the light of day, so many of my friends and colleagues are pushing ahead, able to capitalize on momentum in ways I can only dream of. 

M.E. Proctor is one of those writers. Known not only for her productivity, but also her sharpness as a writer and an architect of noir plots in which everyone dies wishing they'd shared that final secret, M.E. has written more short stories than I can count, as well as the Texas traversing Declan Shaw PI novel, TILL TUESDAY. 

But today, she's here to talk about her latest novel, BOP CITY SWING, a collaborative novel she wrote with another of my favorite short story writers on the scene, Russell Thayer. 

In the essay below, M.E. discusses working with Russell, the origins of their collaboration, and what it's really like to trust one of your most prized possessions, a longstanding character you created, to another writer. 

Check it out below, but, before you do, make sure you pick up a copy of BOP CITY SWING, right after this amazing cover. 

Bop City Swing – A Match Made in Noir Heaven 

By M.E. Proctor 

There must be as many types of writers’ collaboration as there are writers.

The Boileau-Narcejac duo (authors of The Living and the Dead, the book behind Hitchcock’s

Vertigo) had an approach that worked beautifully for them. Pierre Boileau and Thomas

Narcejac produced more than 40 novels (in as many years), 100 short stories, and a few

movie scripts together. They lived six miles apart but rarely met and always worked by mail

(snail mail, it’s the 1950s), sending stuff over, letting each other “…ruminate objections for a

few days… Pierre comes up with the plot, and Thomas writes. Pierre types the manuscript

and improves things as he goes.” (From a joint interview they did in 1987).

Peter Straub describes his collaboration with Stephen King this way (from a 2018 essay for

USM): “…One day he asked me if I wanted to collaborate on a book, and I said, “Of course;

let’s do it.” We wrote the first 50 pages in Westport, Connecticut, where Susie and I had

moved in 1979, in an intensely collaborative style. I’d sit down at my machine and write a

few pages, and then he’d sit down and start banging away on his pages. There was no

transition when he worked; he would get a distant look in his eyes and start clacking away.

He just dove right in, whereas I generally need a little time to warm up.” When King went

back to Maine, they kept at it, sending pages back and forth via modem. To write the end of

The Talisman, Straub went to Maine for a week.

Russell Thayer and I were never in the same room when we wrote Bop City Swing, we relied

on email and online chats. We had our first Zoom call after the book was completed. Russ

played the Stephen King role, he started the process with: “we should write a story together.”

After the fact, it seems like a no-brainer. Russ has written a bunch of short stories that take

place between the late 30s and the 50s, many starring Vivian Davis, aka Gunselle, a killer for

hire. I have about ten shorts with Tom Keegan, a San Francisco homicide detective around

1950. Same time, same place. Like Peter Straub, I said “let’s do it.” The planned short story

grew into a book.

So, how did we do it? For starters, we had two well-established characters, Vivian especially.

Russ knows her biography inside out and has written extensively about her busy and chaotic

career. My approach to Tom Keegan is more hopscotch, with each story, each criminal case,

adding layers to the character and building his personality. Even if readers are not familiar

with all the existing material, we had to be consistent in voice and vibe. Our stars carried

significant baggage and they brought it to the set of Bop City Swing.

This determined the division of labor, and the structure of the story. We would each write our

respective character’s scenes, from their point of view, third person close. The method had

obvious advantages. The differences in our styles helped contrast Vivian’s and Tom’s voices.

Russ’s writing is short, punchy, gritty, and dialogue heavy. It matches Vivian’s approach to

life. She takes no prisoners, and no shit from anyone. I lean toward mood and atmosphere,

with a slow burn. Tom, as a result, is calm and deliberate, hard to ruffle, until he loses his

patience.

We didn’t outline until we were halfway through the story, letting the alternating

scenes—Vivian/Tom/Vivian/Tom—push us forward. We had the beginning: a political

assassination. Tom’s part was clear, he’s the investigator. Vivian’s involvement was less

evident. Russ and I agreed right away that she did not carry out the hit. The decisive click

came when we figured out that she had been hired to take out the mayoral candidate but

somebody beat her to it. Understandably, she has questions. Both the protagonists are

motivated to find out who and why. And we had our opening scene: Vivian at the scene

watching her paycheck evaporate.

Russ wrote the first chapter, including a flashback explaining why Vivian was at the hotel

when the shots rang. I wrote the cops’ arrival on the scene and the start of the murder

investigation. That beginning was constantly finetuned, as the complex plot developed. We

each wrote a couple of loose scenes, then put them together in a master document that we

emailed back and forth with changes, editing constantly. Russ might keep the master for a

few days adding a Vivian chapter, then I would reread the document and add a Tom piece

before sending it to my partner again.

In between, we chatted and brainstormed ideas about ‘what if’ and ‘where do we go from

here’. I haven’t kept track of the options we discarded or the multiple chat threads where we

typed over each other, one sentence contradicting the one before because a better idea popped

up. It was a dynamic process and the fact we weren’t face-to-face didn’t matter. There were

more than a few late evenings spent typing frantically, and going ‘wait-wait let’s do this

instead’.

Two thirds down the narrative, Tom and Vivian hadn’t yet shared the stage. There had to be a

confrontation, and we were inching toward it. Whose point of view would carry it? I made

the first attempt, writing ‘the bedroom scene’ from Tom’s POV, and sent it to Russ. He took

it and rewrote it from Vivian’s perspective. It was more exciting with her in control, she

initiated the encounter, she was the active protagonist. We went back to it multiple times,

tweaking and polishing, till we found the right tone and the right level of sexual tension.

After that, the story gathered speed toward a climax and resolution that we had not foreseen.

Sometimes I think the surprise is what writing is all about!

The only thing left for debate was how to conclude. What would be the final line? We ended

with a wink and a smile.

Cross fingers, it won’t be the final line … As I type this, Russ and I are deep into another

Tom and Vivian episode. We just had too much fun the first time, and when you find a good

partner to rhapsodize with, why stop, right?

Bop City Swing, available in eBook and paperback, at 

https://www.amazon.com/Bop-City-Swing-Proctor-Thayer/dp/B0F4DSSQ9V/

THE Johnny Shaw interview: Alien puppets, eroticism, and his new zine YOU HAD TO BE THERE.

 By Jay Stringer

JAY: Where do you get your ideas from?

 

JOHNNY: Great question. I'm glad you asked. I carry a journal wherever I go to jot down ideas as they come to me. So, whether I'm on my morning constitutional or on my evening constitutional or even my mid-afternoon constitutional, I can record my observations and wisdoms. Later, when I read them in the bath, I see their value. Full disclosure, it's about 90% erotic musings.

 

JAY: What is the most erotic word in your vocabulary?

 

JOHNNY: I think we can all agree that the sexiest word in the English language is "adequate." Not just how it rolls off the tongue with its playful rhythm and a soupcon of ambivalence, but it's meaning as well. To be just good enough. To not transcend the necessary. To not elate or even satisfy, but to step back and say, "Anymore would take too much effort." Isn't that what art is about, what life is about?

 

JAY: Does the temperature of the bath water matter for creativity?

 

JOHNNY: Oh, Gosh yes. I mean, Gosh. If the water is too hot, it impacts the structural integrity of my miniature frigates. And if it's too cold, then it jeopardizes the realistic depiction of the 1724 Battle of Tortuga that I reenact every bath time. I believe it was Lajos Egri who said, "Creativity is born from hyper-realistic miniature depictions of fictitious historical events in tepid water." So, who am I to argue? Gosh.

 

JAY: What is a zine? And why is a zine?

 

JOHNNY: Funny you should ask (because, in general, you aren't that funny to me. I mean, amusing maybe in a clownlike, jesterlike way, but an acquired taste. You know what I mean?) Anyway. For my whole life, I thought zine was short for magazine. It's not. Look it up. I just learned that zine is short for Thorazine. Because apparently, zines were the number one way Goths treated their bipolar disorder in the 1980s. Fun fact.

 

JAY: If you could have dinner with any three Goths from history, would you rather be alive or dead?

 

JOHNNY: Dead. 

JOHNNY: Next question. 

 

JAY: Traditionally the interviewer decides when to ask the next question.

JAY: Okay, next question.

JAY: Would you say you’re more the Captain Ron of writers, or the Carl Spackler of writers?

 

JOHNNY: You journalists and your gotcha questions. While I am considered the Carl Spackler of backgammon players, mostly because I'm one of the few ranked players to be licensed to kill gophers by the United Nations, I have always seen myself as the Navin Johnson of writers.

   

JOHNNY: That's mostly because of my tireless efforts to combat cat juggling syndicates worldwide.

 

JAY: This is like Frost/Nixon performed by a puppet and a bonobo.

 

JOHNNY: How did you know about that? Who have you been talking to? I've been working on "A Touch of Frost" for the last seven years. I just signed Alf to play Frost, a real coup. And my bonobo guy promises me he's found an ape with just the right amount of gravitas.

 

JAY: And by ‘gravitas’ I assume you mean you’re putting a monkey in a smoking jacket?

 

JOHNNY: He also has a monocle. 

JAY: Oh, so he's a SHAKESPEAREAN bonobo.  

JAY: What is the great American novel, and why is it Smonk by Tom Franklin?

JOHNNY: It's rare to read a book that doesn't have some level of self-censorship. But not Smonk. It's outrageous at almost unimaginable levels but works. Beautifully written. Elevated writing and crudity intertwined. Funny within moments where it seems impossible. Whenever I have doubts and frustrations about publishing, I remind myself that someone had the balls to put that book in the world. The finished book is so true to the vision, but the vision is fucking bananas. I've given away more copies of Smonk than any other book.

JOHNNY: Mediocrity has been swallowed up by the sheer volume of authors and AI. To survive, writers have to get weirder, more interesting, find ways to be more human. Smonk is the bullseye on the map of what we should aspire to.

 

JAY: Do you one day aspire to writing literature?

 

JOHNNY: I assume you mean in contrast to the hacky pulp I've been known to churn out in my pulp churnery. I suppose that someday I might aspire to be a literaturist like yourself, literaturing here and then literaturing over there. But is it worth it? After all, what is literature? Seriously. I obviously don't know what the word means.

JOHNNY: Not coincidentally, that joke was churned out in the hack pulp churnery.

 

JAY: I think literature is defined by how much your character looks at their shoes and how many em-dashes you use.

JAY: Okay. Your publicist told me you have a great new project to discuss. But all she sent me were some staples and sheets of paper. What gives?

 

JOHNNY: For the last time, Tammmi is not and has never been my publicist. At best, she is interning as an aide-de-camp. At worst, she's a paid stalker. It's a complicated relationship.

JOHNNY: That said, that pile of papers that you've rudely dismissed is my current side project: YOU HAD TO BE THERE: A ZINE FOR THE FUTURE. Side projects are the bread and butter of creativity when you've worked as a professional for a long time. Or at least, the day-old bread of creativity. To create something that's often a dumb idea and then see it through to completion allows me to do stuff that doesn't fit my books. If my books were Suicidal Tendencies, the zIne is the Infectious Grooves. In more ways than one.

JOHNNY: YOU HAD TO BE THERE is a funzine filled with a bunch of fragments of humor and weirdness. Writing, parody, comics, a crossword puzzle, and so much more. And it's not only my stuff.

            Jordan Harper contributed comic pages he drew when he was a kid. They're amazing.

            Jess Lourey let me publish the first few pages of her horror screenplay, "Hog!"

           And upstart provocateur Jay Stringer gave me his thoughts on starting a cult. 

           Plus, contributions from D.M. Pulley and the irrepressible Erica Ruth Neubauer.

JOHNNY: In a way, I've reinvented writing for the modern age. In another way, I haven't.

 

JAY: I can grudgingly admit this all sounds mostly swell. But I foresee a few challenges in making an ink-on-paper zine with no Marvel superheroes in it, at a time when people only want digital content with Marvel superheroes in it.

 

JOHNNY:  I admit that the lack of Marvel superheroes is probably a mistake on my part. For awhile I had an appearance from Angar the Screamer, but I felt like, haven't we seen enough of Angar the Screamer? I'm sure the Angarheads would disagree.

JOHNNY: While I would prefer to sell the zines at a roadside stand like God intended, I couldn't get the zoning permits. But what is better than getting mail? Nothing. Nothing is better than getting mail. Especially if the mail is a funzine, which I must emphasize for the last time, is what YOU HAD TO BE THERE IS. A funzine. Okay, that last time was the last time.

JAY: Have you thought of putting some ewoks in it?

JOHNNY: Oh, Gosh yes on the ewoks. Do you know where to get any? Do you have an ewok guy? What I like most about them as characters is that if you look close, you can see the price tags stapled to their ears.

 

JAY:  I think they must be desperate for work these days, what have they done since they had those two movies in the eighties?

 

JOHNNY: The only thing I can think of is the short-lived musical "Dead Man Ewoking" which was not well-received. The Kansas City Intelligencer referred to it as having "way too much nudity for a children's musical about the death penalty."

 

JAY: Was that the thing where Alf played Sadam Hussein?

 

JOHNNY: Two Alf references in one interview. Nice. Yes, that's the play. While that part was shortlived. It led into his one-man show "Alf Wiederhesen" where he delivered monologues depicting the final hours of famous tyrants. His Ceausescu was particularly heart-rending.

 

JAY: Bringing us back to your Alf connection is all about structure. Because we are proper writers.

JAY: Where can people get YOU HAD TO BE THERE?

 

JOHNNY: The exclusive sales channel (a term I overheard two businessmen use once, so it's legit) for YOU HAD TO BE THERE is https://www.patreon.com/c/tornpages/shop. It's also where you can find my Torn Pages project where I write real pages from non-existent books.

JOHNNY: So, YOU HAD TO BE THERE is actually a side project of a side project. A side side project, if you will. And I think you will.

 

JAY: Okay. last question. And this is the Columbo moment. With both Torn Pages and YOU HAD TO BE THERE, how does it feel to have finally answered the “what will i do for my mid-life crisis” question?

 

JOHNNY: That's fair. As I enter what I call my "colonoscopy years" and can feel the ice-cold hand of Death reaching closer and closer to me, it feels more and more important to embrace the moronic. I've always flirted with the moronic, but now we're together in the back seat of a Chevelle steaming up the windows. The funniest stuff is simultaneously smart and dumb, but weirdly the dumb part is often the more difficult part. In YOU HAD TO BE THERE, I've found the dumb, and I'm only getting dumber.

Do You Need a Story Sprint?

By

Scott D. Parker

Sometimes you just have to sprint.

I’ve been writing a novel for the entire year. Restarted on New Year’s Day with an end date on 1 July. We all know novel writing is a marathon, an endurance test of stamina and devotion.

But last weekend, a fun thing happened. I was inspired to write a short story. A week ago yesterday, at work, I encountered a gentleman who works for my company. I’d heard about him, how his mind works, and how interacts with my fellow employees. In some ways, he’s on a different level altogether.

In the course of my introduction, he dropped a quote about how he views one of his past times: amateur boxing. I’m not a boxer, have next to zero clue about it, but the quote captivated me. I was so enthralled that I imagined a scene with a fictional character inspired by my co-worker. Over the course of the two writing sessions, I wrote a 3,800-word short story while not touching the novel.

And I loved it.

Being on a Novel Marathon, I chip away at the end goal, day by day, writing session by writing session. Actually, the better analogy would be I shovel words onto the large pile, knowing one day, I’ll get to “The End.”

That quickie short story? Like a balm. It actually sent a charge surging through my imagination on the novel. It also spurred ideas about taking this short story and treating it as chapter one of another novel.

But I have to finish this one first.