What’s on the Horizon? from James W. Ziskin

As we face the last few months of 2024, any events, projects or releases planned to end the year?

I’ll be attending two conferences before the end of the year, the Concord Festival of Authors — October 28 — then New England Crime Bake — November 8-10. I’m also going to talk (via Zoom) with Art Taylor’s short story students at George Mason University in November. We’re going to take a dive into strategies and challenges of writing Sherlock Holmes pastiches. In particular I want to discuss anachronisms and language. Listen, I’m no Sherlockian, but I did put a huge amount of work into one such pastiche that ended up a finalist for the 2021 Edgar Award for short story. 

Besides the conferences and my zoom call, I don’t have much going on writing-wise. No books or stories coming out yet, though I do have a novel out on submission. So I’m just thinking about and plotting new book ideas.

People often ask where writers get their ideas. For me, inspiration comes from a variety of sources, and usually when you least expect it. Many ideas fall by the wayside and never materialize into any finished product. Maybe that’s why I can rarely remember when or how the idea for a book or story originally came to me. Sometimes it’s a line from a song that sets off a brainstorm. That’s what inspired me to write Cast the First Stone (2017), my Ellie Stone mystery set in 1962 Los Angeles. The song was “It Never Rains in Southern California,” a 1972 classic from Albert Hammond. Here’s a link.

 

There’s little about the song that plays out in my story except for two details. First, it rains non-stop—it pours, man it pours—during my story of Ellie’s Los Angeles visit. I made great use of the rain angle, soaking Ellie and all but ruining her pursuit of a missing hometown boy trying to make it big in Hollywood. It seems February 1962 was a very wet month in Los Angeles, and that suited me fine. I loved the exceptional weather detail. The rain dogs Ellie for two weeks makes for a refreshing departure of the usual California sunshine.

The other detail from the song is one simple, heartbreakingly haunting plea by the singer to keep his Hollywood failure a secret. Don’t tell the folks back home. “Please don't tell 'em how you found me/Don't tell 'em how you found me/Gimme a break, give me a break.” The tortured emotions of that song opened the floodgates to 96,000 words and Anthony, Lefty, and Macavity nominations for Cast the First Stone.

Other than songs, inspiration strikes from who knows where. As I mentioned above, I usually don’t remember. But right now, from now until the end of the year, I’m letting three ideas marinate. All three came from songs. We’ll see if they pan out.

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