This week I’m turning the update over to Barb, in celebration of ANTIQUES BIZARRE going on sale this week (the pub date isn’t till March 1 but on sale date seems to be Feb. 23).

Before I do, though, we have had a lovely review of the book that you might like to check out.

Also, Quarry continues to attract attention – for example, this fun review of THE FIRST QUARRY.

In addition, here’s a retro review of the Quarry novel PRIMARY TARGET. PRIMARY TARGET is available as the bulk of QUARRY’S GREATEST HITS from FiveStar.

And now the better (and better-looking half) of the Barbara Allan team, on collaboration – a piece that expands and updates a piece she wrote for CRIMESPREE a while back. She refers to me as “Al,” which many of you know is my nickname.

Antiques Bizarre, the fifth book in our Trash ‘n’ Treasures mystery series from Kensington, will be hitting the stores this week. This latest collaboration between Al and me, under the name Barbara Allan, is more of a who done-it than the previous books, but there is still plenty of turmoil in the personal lives of Prozac-popping Brandy Borne, bi-polar Mother, and their blind, diabetic dog Sushi. The mystery revolves around the auction of the newly discovered last Faberge egg that had been commissioned by the Russian Tsar, its disappearance and the death of the buyer.

Often Al and I are asked about collaboration. Why do it? Why risk a friendship, a business association, or (gasp) even a marriage?

Collaboration happens successfully in movies, of course, when the collective efforts of writer, director, and actors come together to make something wonderful – Road to Perdition comes to mind. And collaboration works beautifully in musical theater, too. Where would Rodgers be without Hammerstein? Or a certain composer named Bernstein without the brilliance of a young lyricist named Sondheim? But can the joining of two minds and one computer work as well in novel writing? Quick, name your favorite book written by a duo. Hummmmm…me neither.

My own experience with collaboration came after I’d published a number of short stories, and my next assignment left me with unhappy results.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked my veteran writer-husband after pressing the pages I had just written into his hands, as if it were a patient in need of resuscitation.

“It’s missing a key scene,” he said a while later, adding, “You got lazy.”

“Awwh, I don’t wanna write it,” I whined. “Will you?”

“Sure…but then my name goes on it, too.”

Well, that seemed reasonable; after all, writing a key scene was much more of a contribution than plot suggestions given to me over breakfast at Country Kitchen, or suggestions jotted in the margins of my work. And so, my first foray into the tricky world of collaboration was quite, quite painless.

Since then, Al and I have collaborated on other short stories, two stand-alone novels, and – having confidence that the marriage would hold – signed a five-book contract. Our Trash ‘n’ Treasures mysteries – the first of which, Antiques Roadkill, came out from Kensington in fall of ‘06 – have a female voice, with back story that leans more on my life than Al’s, although the antiquing aspect is a shared interest.

Our collaboration process is simple: we plot the novel together, often on a long car trip or over several restaurant meals; usually I take notes. Then I write a complete first draft without Al seeing any of it. If I run into trouble along the way, we discuss the problem over another lunch (there’s a very famous restaurant in Muscatine, Iowa – perhaps you’ve heard of it: Applebees).

Then, when I’m finished with the first draft (and good and sick of it), Al takes his pass, bumping up the word count because I’m a short story writer at heart, and he can flesh out scenes and descriptions, in particular amplifying dialogue. He also fixes any plot holes or too-girly fight scenes.

During this phase there can be some shouting – but only because Al’s office is on the second floor and mine is on the first, and we haven’t sprung for an intercom system yet – as he asks, “What did you mean by this?” or “How about doing it this way?” As Al revises each chapter, I read his second draft for corrections and any final additions or changes I’d like to lobby for. The end product, then, is something we both feel satisfied with.

So. For those of you who dare to follow in our footsteps, here are a few observations and suggestions we’ve learned along the way.

Do not attempt to collaborate if you and your partner have incompatible writing styles. Exception: one person does the research; the other writes. (The great team of Dannay and Lee behind Ellery Queen divided up the work in a fashion that didn’t require compatible styles of expression.)

Maintain separate offices and computers. One person seated at a desk while the other stalks the floor smoking a stogie only worked on “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Ditto for sitting side by side.

Before writing a word, have a clear and singular vision of what the writing project is to be. This is more than just plotting, but attitude and even thematic concerns. Before beginning our novel Regeneration, we discussed at length the notion of the selfishness of baby boomers, and how they had failed to properly save for retirement.

Think of the collaboration as two builders teaming to construct a house: one writer takes the lead and fashions the structure (to specifications already agreed upon); the other writer then takes over and decorates the interior. The interior decorator should not go knocking out supporting walls; conversely the original builder should not re-arrange the furniture, at least without discussion.

Those who think collaboration is somehow a time-saving approach are, well, confused. It is actually harder – although if each writer has a sense of his or her strengths and weaknesses, that’s a great help. If writer A and B agree that A is better at dialogue, for example, writer B can write short dialogue scenes knowing that writer A will come along later and effectively expand.

Sometimes it comes down to sheer knowledge – I don’t think I’ll be handing over the fashion do’s and don’ts, or even the antiquing tips, to Al any time soon. But why should I break my back writing a fight scene with the creator of Nathan Heller in the house?

Beyond shoring up each others weaknesses through your own strengths, why should a writer embark on such a perilous enterprise? The answer is as simple as collaboration is complex: a third writer is created.

A successful writing collaboration creates a distinct third voice in an end product that – because of the strengths each writer brings to the work table – could not have been accomplished alone.

That’s when two plus two can equal five. Even my husband can do that math.