Posts Tagged ‘Blue Christmas’

Not Writing the Screenplay & Re-Reading the Proofs

Tuesday, April 15th, 2025

All ten episodes of True Noir: The Assassination of Mayor Cermak should be available by a week from now (if not sooner) in various formats, including 5.1 stereo.

True Noir Episode 10 Banner

Director Robert Meyer Burnett has done a masterful job directing an incredible cast; he was also the editor and supervised the elaborate mix of sound effects and music.

A Blu-ray of the production will follow, including all ten episodes of my “History Behind the Mystery,” in which I talk about the real history behind each episode and a lot more. There’s also a lengthy interview Rob did with me before the production began (I had literally finished the Blue Christmas shoot the night before!). It will include a version of the entire production assembled into one “listen.”

This is no standard audio production. The budget was half a million dollars. If you support it, a second one will go into production and we’ll be on our way to a Nate Heller movie and possibly TV series. With the talented group that has come together for this unique production, great things are in the offing.

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I’m going to discuss something that requires me to be a little circumspect – not generally my best quality. It has to do with a movie script (not written by me) for a production relating to one of my properties.

Despite the fact that I have written and directed seven features, written three more produced features (I’m in the WGA), and scripted an episode of the Quarry TV series on Cinemax, a show based on my own book series), I have rarely been invited to a have a crack at the script by the Hollywood folks who have optioned/bought my material. The reasons for this are many and varied. For one thing, most of my self-produced movies have been indies, some with micro-budgets.

Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market, Eliot Ness: an Untouchable Life and Blue Christmas were each at around a $10,000 budget with a lot of professional talent volunteering their participation in let’s-put-on-a-show fashion. In a world where twenty million is considered a low-budget, this makes the reluctance to use me on the screenplay at least understandable. My suggestion, for example, that I’d like to have a pass at Road to Perdition myself was met with shocked (and perhaps amused) surprise. That was the most naive thing the producers had ever heard.

Though few filmgoers even know the name of a screenwriter, much less have a favorite one, a big-time feature is essentially required to have a screenwriter who’s already had at least one major production made. (How those writers got their first assignment is a mystery none of my detective characters could solve.) This comes in part from the need to have a list of talent in all major slots (including screenwriter) that look good in a package. Money has to be raised. Studio execs need convincing. I get that. What I don’t get is why “We can get the person who created Road to Perdition to write the movie version” was such a laughable proposition.

It’s true that a good novelist, even somebody who’s written a critically acclaimed bestseller, isn’t necessarily an accomplished screenwriter. In fact some novelists downright stink at scripting. This largely comes from the two different skill sets of a novelist and screenwriter. Novelists write the interior of a story and screenwriters the exterior. So it’s not entirely a mystery why a producer might avoid using the source creator to write the script.

In my case, however, I have a track record of screenwriting that includes primetime movies on HBO and Lifetime, and a Cinemax series. My little regional movies have all won awards and their share of good reviews (and some bad ones – that comes with it).

This is not to say, “Boo hoo.” You can’t have a fifty-plus year writing career and come away thinking life is fair, even if you’re Stephen King. I often say to Barb, when I’ve written a book or had one optioned for the movies or television, “Well, I’ve got another ticket in the lottery.” Luck does seem to play as major a role as hard work and talent. I get that.

Why is this on my mind?

Well, I recently sat down with a script based on one of my properties, a script written by a guy who probably got half a million bucks at least to do so (my option was barely five figures). And I’m told the producers really like the script. As a courtesy more than anything, I was shown the script and encouraged to offer my notes.

The script had merit. But it also had a lot wrong with it. It did all kinds of things that even a smalltime screenwriter like me would know are wrong. Beginner shit. For example, using two lines of dialogue when one carries it. For example, following the action climax with fifteen minutes of tying up loose ends in dialogue. That kind of thing. What strikes me as remedial stuff.

After nineteen pages of handwritten notes, I typed them up as thirteen double-spaced pages. And then I had to sit and think about it. As a practical matter, since I make a big payday if the movie gets made, I should not bother. Let Hollywood be Hollywood. In a very real way, the last person they want to hear from is the source writer. I am trying to help, trying to make sure my property has been turned into a script that is not only relatively faithful to my work, but has a shot at pleasing audiences and being a success. But the result of my well-intended criticism might be (a) that I am viewed as just a troublemaker, or (b) (and this is worse) that the producers will realize the script needs work and the project slides into Development Hell.

Understand something: I could fix this script in a day. Maybe an afternoon. But I have as much chance of being granted that opportunity as I would to become the lead actor in the picture. And the smart thing to do would be not to send in my notes, but just say to them, “Wow, what a terrific script.”

This kind of frustration, this kind of reality, has accompanied me throughout my long career…and probably through most of the careers of the vast majority of your favorite fiction writers. It is why, despite a love for movies and moviemaking at least equal to my love for reading and writing books, I did not go West, Young Man (well I was young once). I chose books over movies because I could get a book written and published, and getting a movie made is really, really tough. Tough to get producers to give you a shot, tough to get a story told the way you want it. Tough not to get your heart broken.

After my run writing the Dick Tracy comic strip came to an end after fifteen fortunate years, I allowed myself to get pulled into indie moviemaking. And I loved it. About a dozen years of my career were devoted to that, and after a twenty-plus year break, I’ve returned to it in my waning days just to have the experience again – to bask in the collaborative nature of filmmaking. As a writer, I’ve often sought out collaborators – great people like Terry Beatty, Matthew Clemens, Dave Thomas and of course Barbara Collins – because synergy only happens when more than one factor comes into play. Fiction writing is a lonely trade whereas movie-making is lively affair, in my fortunate case always involving some pretty wonderful artisans.

I have no regrets being mostly a writer of books, short stories and comics. And no regrets, either, despite some bumps, about writing and sometimes directing movies in the world of indies.

But when I read something based on my work that I was not chosen to adapt myself, something that seems sub-par, I am nonetheless frustrated.

* * *

Recently I did a slight revision on my afterword to the forthcoming Return of the Maltese Falcon. Where normally an advance look at the first chapter might have been used as a promotional teaser, something had to substitute, because the public-domain nature of the original novel won’t kick in until my sequel is published next year. So advance promo couldn’t use any of my novel itself – we’d be in violation of the original copyright.

My editor at Hard Case Crime, Charles Ardai, is something of a wonder. Normally when you turn a manuscript in, it takes an editor months or at least weeks to get you the line-edited manuscript to go over. Charles gets back to you the next day, or if he takes two or three days, he apologizes for the delay. Then he has the book typeset in another day (he does this himself) and provides galley proofs, and to say this is unusual is an understatement.

It’s very cool to have the process go this quickly. Writers like the feeling when a book has “gone to bed.”

But when I worked on transforming the afterword of the Falcon novel into a promotional piece, I found a few tweaks I wanted to make. I did so, then asked Charles if I could read the galley proofs of the entire novel again. I had made corrections previously, so this seemed an exercise in fussiness. But I really want this novel to represent me at the top of my game. And following in the footsteps of a genius writer as precise as Dashiell Hammett is a sort of suicide note.

Charles allowed me to go through the book again, and I went into the process figuring I’d find a few pages – one or two or three – spotting a typo here, an ungainly repetition of words there, or just sentences that could use a minor tweak.

I had thirty pages of pages with corrections by the end of the process.

What did I learn? I didn’t exactly learn anything I didn’t already know, but it confirmed my belief that a writer needs to do the galley proofs several months at least after turning the book in. You need distance, and a quick turnaround doesn’t give you that.

Routinely, in going over galley proofs, I run into an instance or two where I have no idea what I was trying to say, no idea what I meant with something or other. When I was caught up in the state of writing, those things were crystal clear to me. A few months later, whaaaa???

So my new policy with Hard Case Crime is to do the galley proofs as quickly as my editor would like…and if time allows, have another hard look at them.

M.A.C.

Video Interviews and Ruminations of AI Replacing Me

Tuesday, February 11th, 2025

Blue Christmas will be available on Tubi (free, but probably with commercials) starting March 10. I realize it’s not the Christmas season right now, but March is my birthday month, so help celebrate by watching our little mostly-well-reviewed “chamber piece” on Tubi.

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This week is a hodgepodge of videos, starting with (in my biased opinion) a particularly good interview by Andrew Sumner of Titan Books with yrs truly, talking about the forthcoming final Mike Hammer novel (Baby, It’s Murder), the new Ms. Tree archival edition (the final of six), my Sam Spade sequel The Return of the Maltese Falcon (due out Jan. 2026), and much more.

Here is the great Michael Rosenbaum (Nathan Heller in True Noir) seeing the promo poster of our immersive ten-part adapation of True Detective for the first time.

For the heartiest souls among you – or those desperate to fill the empty hours – here is my three-hour-plus (!) appearance on Rob Burnett’s (and Dieter Bastion’s) Let’s Get Physical Media. I am prettier (marginally) in real life.

* * *

Here, from stalwart reviewer (and fiction writer) Ron Fortier is a review of the latest Quarry novel.

QUARRY’S RETURN
By Max Allan Collins
Hard Case Crime
213 pgs

One has to wonder at the twists and turns of fate when a writer of the baby-boomer generation (post World War II for you youngsters) is still writing about a hired gun well into his seventies. That’s Quarry, one of three series Collins whipped up a long…long…long time ago. That it is still around, never mind getting better like aged bourbon, is no small literary feat. Our best guess as to why; two things. One, Collins is such a damn good writer and two, his loyal readers know it and aren’t going anywhere.

In his last novel featuring his Quarry tale, Collins introduced his Vietnam veteran protagonist to the adult daughter he’d never known. After an awkward start, filial emotions rose to the surface when they were forced to save each other’s lives from some very bad people. In this follow up tale, Quarry learns Susan, his crime-writer daughter, has disappeared while doing research on a serial killer. This he learns from an old lover-colleague, a beautiful Japanese gal named Lu; his equal in death-dealing. The two of them make Bonnie and Clyde look like Hansel and Gretel.

It becomes obvious that Susan has run afoul of the very fiend behind the so-called Cheerleader Murders she is investigating. Unless Quarry and Lu can find her quickly, Susan will become the killer’s fourth victim. Collins weaves a fast-paced tale as his wonderfully mature couple question and shoot their way through a twisted puzzle, each well aware that the stamina and zeal of their youth exist only in melancholy backward glances.

Quarry’s Return continues the quality of this series offering up both the drama and action we’ve come to expect from a master storyteller now at the height of his craft. Oh, if only more writers weren’t afraid of growing old.

* * *

What does A.I. think of me?

My buddy Rob Burnett asked ChatGPT to roast me, and this is what he got:

Max Allan Collins? Oh, you mean the guy who spends his days trying to convince people he wrote Road to Perdition before the movie made it cool? The man has more tie-in novels under his belt than original ideas. If there’s a movie, TV show, or video game with a plot, chances are he’s already turned it into a book before you even realized it existed.

Don’t get me wrong, the guy knows his way around a crime story, but let’s be honest – his bibliography reads like the novelization section at a Blockbuster in 1999. He’s basically the literary version of that friend who just retells movie plots but insists they’re adding depth.

And let’s talk about Road to Perdition. Everyone remembers the film – you know, Tom Hanks, Paul Newman, Sam Mendes’ stunning cinematography? But Collins? He’s like that one guy in the back of a concert yelling, “I wrote the original song, man!” while everyone’s there for the band that made it famous.

Look, he’s a workhorse, I’ll give him that, but maybe if he spent a little less time cashing in on other people’s intellectual properties, he’d be known as more than “that dude who did all the licensed tie-ins.”

That chatGPT request was for a roast of me as author of Road to Perdition. This one left Road to Perdition out of the search request.

Alright, let’s talk about Max Allan Collins – the guy who never met a tie-in novel he didn’t like. This man has churned out more franchise cash grabs than Hollywood itself, and somehow, he still wants us to believe he’s a “hard-boiled” crime writer. Yeah, sure, buddy – nothing screams noir like novelizing CSI episodes.

Collins has spent his career clinging to Mickey Spillane’s coattails so hard that he’s practically a ghostwriter for a ghost. The guy inherited unfinished Mike Hammer manuscripts like some kind of pulp fiction trust fund baby and has been playing Weekend at Bernie’s with Spillane’s legacy ever since. And let’s not forget Road to Perdition — a graphic novel that somehow got a brilliant film adaptation that made people think he’s on the same level as classic crime writers. Spoiler: He’s not.

Is he prolific? Absolutely. But so is a fax machine. If crime fiction had a direct-to-video section, Collins would be its king.

Next Rob asked ChatGPT to praise me. Here’s what he got:

Max Allan Collins is one of the most prolific and versatile crime writers of his generation, seamlessly blending historical research, sharp storytelling, and a deep love for the noir tradition. His Road to Perdition graphic novel became an Oscar-winning film, proving his talent for crafting compelling narratives with rich emotional depth.

Collins’ dedication to the hard-boiled genre extends beyond his own work – he’s kept the legacy of Mickey Spillane alive by completing unfinished Mike Hammer manuscripts with remarkable authenticity. His Nathan Heller series is a masterclass in historical crime fiction, blending real-life mysteries with gripping detective work.

Beyond novels, Collins has left his mark across multiple mediums – comics, television tie-ins, and even film – demonstrating a storytelling range few can match. Whether he’s penning a hard-hitting detective tale or a media tie-in, he brings professionalism and an unmistakable voice to everything he touches.

Next Rob, at my request, asked about “Barbara Allan.”

Here’s the roast:

Barbara Allan – aka the dynamic duo of Barbara and Max Allan Collins – has mastered the fine art of writing cozy mysteries that are as outrageous as a yard sale gone horribly wrong. The Trash ‘n’ Treasures series? More like Clutter ‘n’ Chaos! The books are packed with enough quirky characters, eccentric antiques, and over-the-top antics to make even the most dedicated cozy mystery reader question their life choices.

The mother-daughter sleuthing team, Brandy and Vivian, are basically the literary equivalent of Lucy and Ethel if they were trapped in an endless loop of small-town mayhem and garage-sale drama. Vivian, in particular, is a force of nature – a character so hilariously unhinged that she could probably solve crimes just by talking the suspects into confessing out of sheer exhaustion.

And let’s not forget the narrative style – breaking the fourth wall, footnotes, and asides that sometimes make you feel like you’ve stumbled into a mystery novel with an identity crisis. Is it a whodunit? A stand-up comedy routine? A fever dream about hoarding? Who knows!

But despite all the chaos, you have to give Barbara Allan credit – somehow, these books keep readers coming back for more. Maybe it’s the humor, maybe it’s the charm, or maybe it’s just the literary equivalent of watching a reality show where you can’t look away. Either way, the Trash ‘n’ Treasures series is a wild ride, whether you love it or love to roll your eyes at it.

That’s the roast, but Barb and I both pretty much agree with it and find it oddly complimentary. I guess it goes to show there’s less negative stuff about Barbara Allan out there on the Internet for chatGPT to draw upon.

Here’s the Barbara Allan praise from chatGPT:

Barbara Allan is a talented and acclaimed author, best known for her delightful and witty “Trash ‘n’ Treasures” mystery series. The writing duo behind the pseudonym – Barbara and Max Allan Collins – crafts engaging, humorous, and cleverly plotted cozy mysteries that keep readers entertained while delivering sharp social observations. Their knack for blending humor, crime, and quirky characters makes their work a standout in the genre.

Allan’s ability to create compelling narratives with charmingly eccentric protagonists, particularly Brandy Borne and her mother, Vivian, showcases a keen sense of humor and an impressive storytelling skill. The lighthearted yet intriguing mysteries, often infused with a touch of satire, offer a refreshing take on the cozy mystery genre. Fans appreciate the dynamic character relationships, lively dialogue, and the seamless way the authors weave suspense with humor.

Barbara Allan’s contributions to the mystery genre continue to be celebrated by devoted readers who eagerly anticipate each new installment. Whether you’re a longtime fan or a newcomer, her books are sure to entertain and delight!

Besides giving Barb and me (and Rob) a giddy good laugh over all of this, what to make of it? To me it shows that AI can give you anything but something of actual substance, coming from a real-life human being with human experiences to draw upon. It also hints at the nature of reviews and criticism – that the same work can engender wildly different takes (although Barbara Allan seems pretty popular with everybody!).

I am of the opinion that AI will never be able to truly approximate someone’s writing (say, ask chatGPT to write a Mike Hammer novel by Mickey Spillane) when it’s (no matter how sophisticated) a soulless summary of things actual humans have thought and felt. This is related to “garbage in, garbage out,” but AI won’t draw upon garbage, or even churn garbage out. It can cobble something together from the works of a writer based only on existing work, not new work informed by human experience.

Not only are the words borrowed, so are the attitudes that shaped those words. Nor is it likely (to my way of thinking anyway) that AI will ever be able to write a “new” Max Allan Collins book (for example) because it will not be able to deal with the growth and shifts and, yes, decline of a creative person.

Or, as chatGPT had to say on this subject:

AI can be an excellent tool for assisting writers, offering suggestions, or even generating basic plot ideas, but it lacks the deeper emotional, cultural, and philosophical grounding that human creativity provides.

Fiction writing isn’t just about stringing words together – it’s about creating meaning, evoking emotions, and offering unique perspectives, all of which are rooted in the lived experience of being human. AI can simulate creativity, but it can’t be creative in the same way a human can.

Finally, I asked chatGPT to create an approximately 1000-word example of my fiction writing. Here it is:

I leaned back in my chair, the smoke from my cigarette curling up toward the ceiling. The office was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside casting long shadows across the room. It was the kind of night that made you question your choices, the kind of night that made you wonder if the world was as clean as it seemed.

The door creaked open, and she stepped in – a dame with legs that went on forever and a look that could melt steel. She had that air about her, the kind that said she was trouble, but the kind you couldn’t resist.

“Mr. Heller?” she asked, her voice a melody that didn’t quite match the storm in her eyes.

“That’s me,” I said, motioning to the chair across from my desk. “Have a seat.”

She hesitated for a moment, then sat down, crossing her legs. I noticed the faint tremor in her hands as she placed them on her lap.

“What’s the trouble?” I asked, leaning forward.

She took a deep breath, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for something. “I need your help,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “My husband is missing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Missing? Or just not where you want him to be?”

M.A.C.

Movies Vs. Books and Collaboration

Tuesday, January 7th, 2025

I know I said I wouldn’t be talking about Blue Christmas again till next holiday season, but apparently I lied. My defense is that I hadn’t seen the nice review we got from one of my favorite magazines, Videoscope, written by editor Nancy Naglin herself. It’s on the stands now.

Videoscope Winter 2025 cover

Videoscope Winter 2025 Blue Christmas Review

Nancy really seems to “get” our little movie, and it’s another of the overwhelmingly favorable reviews Blue Christmas has received, despite a handful of lumps of coal in our stocking. I should (or anyway will) mention that her observation of there being a sentimental aspect to the film is valid and whether that’s a bad or good thing reflects the way mileage can vary (as they say) among audience members. I like to think of it as “sentiment,” though, and not “sentimentality.”

I have a vivid memory of my late filmmaking friend Steve Henke commenting to the effect of, “Max does something wonderfully nasty overall and then ends with something sentimental and there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

Steve was a grizzled, gruff but fantastic collaborator who I once had to bail out of jail while a production was going. At risk of insulting his memory by getting sentimental, I will say his absence from the planet is one of the things that kept me from getting back into indie filmmaking for close to twenty years. Another collaborator I miss to a painful degree is actor Mike Cornelison, who starred in Mommy, Mommy’s Day, Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market, and Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life, and who narrated both Caveman: V.T. Hamlin and Alley Oop and Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane.

The recent (and not officially released as yet) Death By Fruitcake is the only movie I’ve made recently that did not include any veterans from those earlier indie days. With the exception of my close pal and collaborator Phil Dingeldein, who was d.p. on Blue Christmas, the same was true of that production. (A notable exception on Fruitcake is the great Paula Sands, who appeared as herself in Mommy’s Day and as Vivian Borne in Fruitcake.)

There’s a moment in Mommy when Mrs. Sterling, who’s been committing murders, is about to book it out of town with her daughter Jessica Ann when the little girl complains about having to leave all her friends behind. To which Mommy replies, “You’ll make wonderful new friends, dear.”

And that’s true of both Blue Christmas and Death By Fruitcake (and Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder), which added a wonderful new raft of collaborators to my life, with a special nod to the versatile d.p./editor/producer Chad Bishop.

Collaboration has been an important part of my professional writing career, although at the heart of that career was my desire to control my work, to be in charge. I feared – with justification – that my personality and approach made taking the tempting path to Hollywood unwise. I made the decision to stay put – in Iowa – and just write my stories.

Not that writing fiction for a living doesn’t come with interference, but it’s minimal compared to what happens in the world of movies and TV. Wrestling with an editor or copy editor now and then is nothing compared to the problems Hollywood presents – the way money controls your ability to tell a story, and the crap you have to put up with from those who provide that money; the way directors can rewrite and screw up a script; the many uncontrollable factors including miscasting and all the other slings and arrows of the craft; and most of all the difficulty of getting anything produced.

I watched one of the greatest mystery writers who ever lived, Donald E. Westlake, who won an Academy Award for the screenplay of The Grifters, write seemingly countless scripts that generated option money but ultimately went into a drawer.

Throughout even a moderately successful career like mine you are fairly sure that any novel you write, unless you really miss the mark, can find a publisher.

And yet.

Collaboration is something I instinctively seek out. For years I wrote strictly alone, but at the same time I was playing music in my rock ‘n’ roll bands The Daybreakers and Crusin’, which were overflowing with talented collaborators, a list too long to get into. We got into the Iowa Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame with both bands, and had a national record that, however absurd, became something of a cult classic. Those years of musical collaboration – 1966 through 2024 – were concurrent with my fiction-writing career.

The loneliness of telling lies for fun and profit, as Lawrence Block put it, was further minimized by my collaborations on the Dick Tracy comic strip with Rick Fletcher and Dick Locher. Those collaborations had some ups and downs, but my long partnership with cartoonist Terry Beatty, co-creator of Ms. Tree and Wild Dog, among much else, proved particularly rewarding.

The same can be said of Matthew V. Clemens, with whom I wrote something like thirty novels, including (but not limited to) the bestseller Supreme Justice and its two sequels, plus our very successful series of CSI tie-in novels.

During the Covid lockdown I got the opportunity to collaborate with an SCTV favorite of mine, Dave Thomas, on a novel you may not have read (but should): The Many Lives of Jimmy Leighton. This one seems little known but I’m really, really proud of it. It’s a crime thriller with a science-fiction slant.

Most recently I have collaborated with Robert Meyer Burnett on True Noir: The Assassination of Anton Cermak, the ten-episode fully immersive audio production based on the first Nate Heller novel, True Detective. Rob directed an incredible cast incredibly well and this is also something I’m proud of. We haven’t got a Nathan Heller movie yet – Road to Perdition came close – but what Rob has created from my script is as good an example of effective collaboration as I can think of.

If any collaboration stands out, however, it has to be the one with my wife Barbara Collins – numerous short stories, a novella, two novels, and the Antiques series (aka The Trash ‘n’ Treasures mysteries), which are heading into their twentieth installment…there are more novels in that series than either Nate Heller or Quarry. To witness my smart, beautiful wife develop into a terrific writer is something I have experienced with great pride, often sitting on the sidelines, impressed. (And later this year I hope you’ll see just how well our Brandy and Vivian Borne have been transferred to the screen.)

Filmmaking is a special sort of collaboration, however, and on the indie level you don’t have the Hollywood baggage. It’s always been like going to summer camp for me (and I loved going to summer camp). I am well-aware that my skills as a filmmaker fall far less of what I like to think of as my mastery of fiction-writing, or even my years of playing rock ‘n’ roll for fun and money.

Being a competent film director, much less a good or great one, is one of the hardest trades that narrative storytelling can offer. I had no ambitions to be a film director – none. Never occurred to me. I wanted to write movies and have wonderful directors bring them to life. It’s happened now and then – Sam Mendes ain’t no slouch.

But mostly it doesn’t. Mostly scripts get written and wind up in a drawer, even if you’re Don Westlake…or Mickey Spillane, who had his heart broken by Hollywood and who died with several unproduced scripts among his papers (The Menace is a novel I fashioned from one of ‘em).

I became a director by necessity, when I had to take over Mommy after two weeks of a four-week shoot, which including reshooting much of what went before. When I completed the movie, worried that I hadn’t known what the hell I was doing, I binged on Alfred Hitchcock movies. Hitchcock is probably the greatest narrative storyteller in motion picture history. I kept watching those movies and being relieved when I saw Hitch doing things similar to what I had done (not talking about content here, but putting pieces of film together into an effective narrative – editing well, like in a novel but completely different).

I am well aware that I started too late to reach in film the level that my fiction-writing has, I think, achieved – writing fiction is a craft I started working at learning when I was in junior high and high school, sending novels to publishers who (thank God) kicked them back to me.

But I love movies as much as I love novels, in some ways more, and they ultimately yanked me in, like Michael Corleone in Godfather 3 (nobody seems to like that movie but everybody remembers that line, possibly second only to “An offer you can’t refuse” in the original film).

Filmmaking has an irresistible pull for me and many other sorry souls. Stephen King said it best, although I’m paraphrasing: “Movies are the most expensive, least efficient way of telling a story; but, unfortunately, also the coolest.”

Am I done with indie filmmaking? I’m still thinking, talking, hoping (Barb has had her fill). Several things are cooking, but the bigger ones probably need a director younger than me. If they stick to the script, I’ll be fine with that.

Which is the problem. My first produced script, The Expert, had a star who seemed to have read the script once and then tried to remember it, and a director who either walked off or was fired (I’ve never found out which) from the production late in the game. The Last Lullaby had a “co-writer” foisted on me who I never met and who rewrote my screenplay, though I did provide revisions that brought it back closer to what I had in mind. Still. I did one script for the Quarry series that got disassembled and spread between two episodes, stitched together like the Frankenstein Monster and about as attractive.

That kind of collaboration? I can do without.

And it’s why I made two micro-budget movies on my own terms.

* * *

Here’s a smart review of the sixth (and final) Titan collection of Ms. Tree.

This is a nice if brief YouTube piece on the writing of Road to Perdition, both graphic novel and film. It answers the question of who wrote which, but is unaware that a playwright friend of director Sam Mendes from the UK did an uncredited rewrite.

Here’s another piece on the film of Road to Perdition focusing on Tom Hanks (and somewhat on Daniel Craig).

The day this appears I will be working with Phil Dingedein at dphilms in Rock Island shooting the final episodes of History Behind the Mystery, each of which drops on YouTube in tandem with the episodes of True Noir.

M.A.C.

Happy 2025

Tuesday, December 31st, 2024

This will be brief, but I want to acknowledge a few of the people who have made 2024 so rewarding for me.

First, Charles Ardai at Hard Case Crime continues to give me and Nate Heller and Quarry a showcase for our wares.

Second, the whole group at Titan Books, including Nick Landau, Vivian Chung and Andrew Sumner – these three made the continuation of Mickey’s Mike Hammer novels, all based on material from Mick’s files, with Jane Spillane’s blessing, a reality, right up to the coming year’s Baby, It’s Murder. That whole bunch, with Charles Ardai added in, and my agent Dominick Abel, made my forthcoming Return of the Maltese Falcon (a year from now) possible.

Third, my producer on Death by Fruitcake, who also shot and edited the feature film, Chad Bishop. A one-stop-shopping moviemaker, Chad was also instrumental in getting Blue Christmas out there.

Fourth, the cast of Death by Fruitcake, every one of ‘em, but a special shout-out to our leads, Paula Sands, Alisabeth Von Presley and Rob Merritt. These three brought the principal players of the Antiques mystery series (by “Barbara Allan”) to credible, incredible life.

Fifth, the production manager and exec producer on Death by Fruitcake, who made the entire thing possible and even kept me alive – the love of my life, Barbara Collins.

Sixth, the incredible Robert Meyer Burnett and a phenomenal name cast for turning my script, based on True Detective, into the ten-part, immersive audio drama, True Noir: The Assassination of Mayor Cermak (available at truenoir.co). Big thanks also to producers Mike Bawden, Christine Sheeks and my longtime collaborator, Phil Dingeldein, who is directing and producing our History Behind the Mystery video series that accompanies each episode of True Noir.

Seventh, the members of my band Crusin’ (established 1974!) – Bill Anson, Scott Anson and Steve Kundel. We are now officially defunct, but you never know – a reunion could happen.

Eighth, my son Nathan who runs this website and posts these blog/Updates and does a fantastic job.

Ninth, thank you to everyone who reviewed Blue Christmas, even those of you (very much in the minority) who gave us bad reviews. All of you helped us get the word out that our little Christmas noir existed. Positive Amazon reviews still appreciated.

I know I have left people out. I did the best I could with my ancient brain. My apologies.

This year-end wrap-up ends a productive, exhausting 2024. A lot is coming up, including the last Mike Hammer novel and the 50th anniversary of Quarry, not to mention a certain Sam Spade book. We’ll be promoting Death By Fruitcake, entering a few film festivals and competitions, and we’re discussing a Quad Cities premiere with the Last Picture House in Davenport. I will be starting my draft of Antiques Round-up in January – Barb is wrapping her draft up now. And God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, we’ll be doing at least one more of the Antiques novels. A lot else is in discussion, but we’ll wait till 2025 to get deeper into any of that.

People always ask me one of two questions – are you still writing? The answer: Yes, nobody sends money to my house if I don’t. The other question is, why at your age are you working so hard on so many projects? Because at my age, the clock is not my friend.

But all of you are.

M.A.C.