After Agates are Forever went to the printer, advance readers clamored for a sequel. I sent a draft to the editor, but he said it needs maudlin tropes and clichés. I discussed these over lunch with Nick at the Flying Mulewhip.
Logan: The editor says people want maudlin tropes and clichés. For starters, things showing you are a nice person, up front.
Nick: So not going crazy when Theo threw agates onto my hot beef sandwich wasn’t enough? Tipping Janie the waitress 100% wasn’t enough? Finding a buyer for Theo’s agates? Saving her from being squashed by toppled shelves? Saving her from being riddled with shrapnel from the bindle bomb?
Logan: Apparently not. We need something, let’s see what the editor says, yes, “maudlin.” We need something maudlin. Did you ever save a cat?
Nick: I once helped a sad little orphan girl find her lost doggie.
Logan: That’s way better. Tell me more.
Nick: She was sitting on the curb outside the Flying Mulewhip weeping uncontrollably for her lost doggie. I asked Janie the waitress to console her while I looked for the critter. That didn’t take long. It had climbed into a dumpster and was gorging itself on beef trimmings. It was a scruffy little terrier, cutest dog you can imagine. I lifted it out and gave it to the orphan girl, whose tears became joyful as she hugged it. I asked Janie to bring it a hot beef sandwich.
Logan: What happened then?
Nick: A crowd gathered. Deputy Serrucho arrived along with someone from child protection. But by the time they arrived, a childless couple had fallen in love with the little girl and offered to adopt her and her dog, which they immediately did.
Logan: Is this a true story?
Nick: No, but people will love it.
Logan: You got that right. Now, the other thing people want is a tragic backstory. You never said anything about your parents in the book, so maybe something about them, like they were eaten by a pack of rabid coyotes.
Nick: I like coyotes. They remind me of me when I haven't shaved for three days. Besides, why do I need a tragic backstory? Did Sherlock Holmes have a tragic backstory?
Logan: No.
Nick: Did Hercule Poirot have a tragic backstory?
Logan: No, mon ami, and neither did Phillip Marlowe, but it's the fashion nowadays.
Nick: Okay. When I was a little kid, my parents took me to Machu Picchu. I was petting a llama when an earthquake hit. My parents and their llamas were squashed under a huge falling rock. For years I feared rocks. In sixth grade we watched a movie about trebuchets throwing big rocks and I had screaming nightmares for weeks. I still get triggered whenever I see a llama. Or when I hear an Andean flute. Which is unusual unless I hear that El Condor Pasa song.
Logan: Simon and Garfunkel.
(Nick began shaking uncontrollably and mumbling horrible threats against Simon and Garfunkel. Janie the waitress gave him a big hug and he calmed down.)
Nick: I knew she would give me a hug if I did that. Women are suckers for tragic backstories. Anyway, I needed to overcome my fear of rocks, so I became a geologist. It was hard at first, and I needed a lot of Xanax, but as you can see, I’m Okay now.
(Here somebody spit gravel pulling out of the parking lot, a few pebbles hitting the window by our booth. Nick again began shaking uncontrollably, gasping “Falling rocks! Falling rocks!” Janie gave him another hug.)
Logan: Okay, I get the idea. Now, is this a true story?
Nick: Of course not. Well, sort of. They did take me to Machu Picchu and Andean flute music bores me.
Logan: I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that. Now, the editor says people are complaining that Frankie doesn’t act like what they think a Native American should act like.
Nick: You mean like a gazing mystic with feathers in his nose?
Logan: Something like that.
Nick: Tell them never to play cards with Frankie because he has supernatural powers and can predict the run of the cards.
Logan: You never told me that.
Nick: Because it’s not true. He can predict the run of the cards because he knows how to cheat. He's an expert at it. But they don’t need to know that.
Logan: That’ll work. Now, the other thing, and it’s kind of late to change this, is that people expect a detective to be a divorced boozer with a tragic backstory and an estranged daughter.
Nick: Sorry. Never married, no kids, and a light drinker.
Logan: What about Frankie?
Nick: I know he doesn't touch alcohol, but I don't know anything about his backstory, other than that's he's a Marine veteran who never got seasick, and had something to do with Doña Cartucho twenty years ago. I'm convinced Frankie and Sheriff Pershing share a dark secret, but I have no idea what it is. Frankie inherited omertà from his Italian mother and whatever the Navajo version of omertà is from his father, so he's homozygous for it and won't tell you anything. Sheriff Pershing is Mormon and won't tell you anything, either.
Comments