I See Dead People

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This is an irreverent title for a very serious post, and I chose it specifically to show that sometimes, we need some irreverence to deal with things in our life. Humor heals all wounds, and writing cop novels means I’ve dealt some really off color moments which defuse the tension of the situation at hand. Humor helps with most every circumstance—with nervousness, with fear and tragedy. Thank goodness we have that, at least.

I attended my first autopsy this past weekend. Allow me to amend, I spent a full morning at the Medical Examiner’s office, which meant not one, but four autopsies. Don’t worry, I’m not going to gross you out with freaky details. Not too many, at least. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t discuss some of what I experienced and the way the day is haunting me. There are images seared into my brain now that I’ll never erase.

Names, places and details have all been slightly altered to protect the innocent.

#

I recently received an invitation to attend a postmortem, and I honestly didn’t want to accept. I’ve done a lot of boots on the ground research for my novels, but attending a real post wasn’t something that I’d ever really felt the need to do. There are great virtual autopsies online, and with my truncated pre-med background and subsequent fascination with doctors, I have enough of a familiarity with anatomy that I can manage. I’ve worked with the Manhattan Medical Examiner’s office to get specific details so my Medical Examiner in the book, Dr. Sam Loughley, doesn’t make too many egregious mistakes or misstatements. But I’ve always felt like a fraud. People ask all the time if I’ve attended autopsies, and the answer is always no.

But in the book I’m writing, Sam is a point of view character. So it was time. Plus, I mentioned the invitation in an interview last week, effectively outing myself, which meant culpability. Damn it. After a week of hemming and hawing, I accepted the invitation. We set the day for Sunday.

I dreaded Sunday all week.

#

I didn’t eat Sunday morning. I got a green tea from Starbucks. I figured that was as safe as anything. I was to call when I was in range. It wasn’t a quick drive, so I had plenty of time to think about backing out. I will freely admit to pulling into a gas station and sitting for about ten minutes, getting up the courage to make the call that I was close. Finally berating myself for being a total idiot, I called. I was ten minutes away, and I did my best not to think about what I was about to do. Or rather, I imagined fourteen different scenarios, in which I passed out, threw up, freaked out or otherwise embarrassed myself.

They met me outside, and whisked me in. I’ve been in this particular morgue before for identification of skeletal remains, passed a few spots I recognized, then suddenly, we were in the changing area. I handed over my purse, pulled on tons of protective gear, and grabbed my notebook. The following conversation ensued:

Tech: “She’s going to get blood on that. I’d leave it.” (She being the M.E.)

M.E.: “Hey, I’m pretty neat.”

JT: “She’s just kidding, right?”

Tech and M.E. have small, secretive smiles on their faces, which remain blank. I am certain they are teasing and decide to bring my notebook. My mask is around my neck. My heart is doing double time. I have enough familiarity with panic attacks to know that I’m pushing into the borders of one. I breathe deeply, square breaths.  

JT: “You should probably have the smelling salts ready, just in case.”

M.E.: “You’re going to be just fine. I’ll take good care of you.”

JT: “Seriously. I have no idea about how I’m going to react. I’m not kidding.”

Tech and M.E. realize that I’m quite serious, and make a plan for me.

Tech: “If you start feeling hot, step out. I’ll come and give you a coke or something.”

ME: “Are you ready?”

I swallow, hard, and nod. In we go.

#

It is white, clean, pristine, with shiny stainless steel and a man lying naked to my left. This is not my first dead body, but it is my first unclothed, which is momentarily shocking. My greatest fear is that there will be one of two demos: a man my father’s age, or a child. I immediately see the board says the man is in his 70s. Shit. I realize I’m breathing through my mouth, which isn’t necessary, there’s no real smell. The M.E. checks if I’m okay, and says we have four autopsies this morning. (FOUR? WTF? I only signed up for one. Panic sets in again, then abates. Surely I'm only going to observe one. I can handle this.)

We move further into the morgue. I immediately see a young boy on a gurney further away from the sinks. Nightmare scenario two. I stop cold. The M.E. asks again if I’m okay, tells me not to personalize. There are two more bodies, one woman with blood on her face and a young man with tattoos along his ribcage. I feel the urge to run and not look back. I also have the most absurd reaction—I keep looking for chests to rise, for eyes to open, for bodies to sit up. I’ve got a full-fledged horror film running through my brain—one that never really goes away.

Everyone is waiting for me. The techs are standing at the ready by their bodies. The guests, they call them. All the bodies have been stripped, weighed and measured. Since none of the deaths are criminally suspicious, evidentiary precautions are not in play. Each station is set up with a white board with things written on it like heart, liver, kidneys. I know enough to know that’s for weight measurements of the organs. I am still on my feet, though looking over my shoulder expecting a ghostly white hand to grab me. When we’ve established that I’m not going to barf or bolt, the M.E., who is no nonsense and an excellent teacher, takes me to the computer and we review the cases.

The first step is to cover the details of each individual case. We have an unattended death outside, an unattended possible overdose, a possible suicide, and the child with severe head trauma. I am hugely relieved to learn that his autopsy will be external only, the cause of death was established by the hospital. Thank God for small favors.

We step to the first body, the woman. On go the masks. The M.E. does an external exam, explaining to me in detail what she’s looking for. The woman has marks and scratches on her body, we spend some time determining what they might be. When the M.E. is finished, she nods to the tech, who takes a vitreous fluid level and begins to get femoral blood. I watch rather indirectly, really expecting the gorge to rise, but it doesn’t. So far, so good. A block is placed between the woman’s shoulder blades – not under the neck like we see on TV. I understand why moments later.

We’re standing in a spot when I can see all four bodies when the tech makes the Y-incision on the woman. This is quick, brutal and astounding. The pristine whiteness is replaced by glorious Technicolor. Things start happening very fast. We move to the next body, the probable heart attack, and start the external exam. Then on to the suicide. I know I’m not supposed to be personalizing, but I can’t help it. I feel horrible for these people. I am angry at the man who decided life wasn’t worth it. I feel sorry for the heart attack. I worry that I will look similar to the woman if I’m ever in her place. I am over-personalizing. I stare into a chest cavity, focus on the ribcage, and knock it off.

That's when I realize I will be attending all four autopsies, because they are done simultaneously. Oh.

We work in circles, moving from station to station. There are unexplained noises, and odd smells. Mostly alcohol, wafting from the bodies. There is a pattern to our concentrics. This is a team effort, a coordinated, choreographed dance. When the breastplate is off, the M.E. looks at the heart in situ, then the organs start to come out. The bone saw didn’t bother me at all, I’ve got contractors in the house laying a floor upstairs and it sounds no different. It is easier when I don’t have to look at their faces. When the skull is off, the tech yells what I think is “Head” and we go back to look at the brain before it too is removed.

Autopsy is a surprisingly physical job. It takes more than one person to move the bodies around on the table. It takes strength to get through bone.

We move on to dissection. Each organ must be looked over thoroughly for signs that the death isn’t what they think. I see things I’ve only read about—cholesterol, plaque, nodules, cysts—and make plans to lead a healthier life. Microsurgery suddenly makes sense. I’m going to stop with the description here and save a bunch of it for my books, but suffice it to say, it’s fascinating.

And bloody. Biggest misconception I had about autopsies—I always envisioned them bloodless, sterile, clean. Yeah. Not. The tech wasn’t kidding when she said I’d get blood on my notebook. It actually sat quietly on the counter awaiting my return—I really didn’t need it to take notes. Sometimes, visuals do all the talking for you. This would have been a bit different if any of the bodies had lost blood at the scene, of course, but these were all intact.

The boy was last, and that was as hard as you could imagine.

#

We wrapped at 11:30. We’d been at it for three hours straight. One of the techs asked me if I’d had fun. I told her fun wasn’t exactly the appropriate word, though it was a fascinating, enlightening and educational morning.

Remember the humor? There were some really funny moments, both during and after. A nicked aorta that had people rushing around for ladles. The M.E. getting the band wrong on one of the songs – it was David Essex’s ROCK ON, not New Kids on the Block. Listening to AC/DC while watching a liver dissection. Realizing when we finished that I was starving, and assuaging my hunger with Milk Duds. Going to Waffle House after and needing my bacon very, very well done. Freaking out a friend when I overshared about how to differentiate tissue samples from the lobes of the lungs. The rest goes in the books. Hey, a girl’s got to have a plan, right?

I’m so glad I finally broke down and did this. Sam will be a much, much richer character from here on out. And I was so proud of myself for actually making it through without problems. I'm still haunted by visions; I doubt they'll ever leave me. But I did it.

I will end with this. My own spiritual path has evolved from the dogma I learned as a child. I find beauty in all religions, can see that what I was taught isn’t the only path to God. But what of the soul? We are all the same inside. Organs designed to function in very specific ways, our body structure and development meant to be exact, past the point of similarity. So there is something that makes us all unique, special, different. Ourselves. Id. Ego. Superego. Soul. Spirit. Essence.

Me.

I felt God in the room, whoever he or she may be. I dare anyone to look into the human body and not believe that there is some kind of grand plan. The design, the way we fit together, is stunningly beautiful. Couple that with the knowledge of our differences, and trust me, I’ve been struggling with some weighty philosophical discourse ever since.

So tell me, have you faced your worst fears lately? Is there someplace you’d like to go that you don’t think you could manage? Any research you’ve skipped over?

Wine of the Week: Vihno dos Mortos, Portugal, which has a fascinating history.

Wanted Undead or Alive

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The premise is so unique, the content so worthy of your time, I can't recommend this amazing book by Jonathan Maberry and Janice Gable Bashman enough. I'm so honored to have a quote in it! Check it out, and be prepared to lose an afternoon.

 

Discover the nature of Evil - and how to kick its butt!

These days you can't swing an undead lycanthrope without hitting a Minion of Evil. They're everywhere-TV, film, the basement-right behind you! It's never been more important to know what you can do to keep them at bay. Garlic? Silver bullets? Holy water? Torch-wielding mob?

From today's foremost experts on nightmares-come-to-life, this indispensible guide identifies and describes mankind-s enemies-supernatural beasts, ghosts, vampires, serial killers, etc.-and unearths effective time-proven responses to each horrific threat.

  • Separate fact from fiction, the deadly from the merely creepy.
  • Learn when to stand your ground and when to run screaming for your life.
  • Determine which monster-specific heroes to call and their likelihood of success.
  • Consider your own potential as a Champion for Good, Conqueror of the Damned.

Whether we're talking ancient vampire hunters or modern-day FBI profilers, it's good to know someone's got your back in the eternal struggle between Good and Evil. And this book, with over fifty illustrations, as well as commentary from luminaries like filmmaker John Carpenter, author Peter Straub, and the legendary Stan Lee, provides all the information and reassurance you need to sleep soundly at night. Just not too soundly.

Freedom...Freedom...Freedom... FREEDOM!

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In honor of finishing the 6th book in the Taylor Jackson series, SO CLOSE THE HAND OF DEATH, (3/11) I want to share a great productivity secret with you. I use a fantastic program on my Mac called Freedom. You set it and your Internet access is blocked for a pre-specified period of time. Hugely helpful for those moments when your mind drifts away from the manuscript and you tell yourself it's fine to check your mail... and twenty minutes later you're reading about Great White sharks... and your book is set in a desert!

I've talked about Freedom before, and how incredibly helpful it is to combat my Internet monkey mind. But it's only been available to Mac users, until now!

Sound the trumpets...

Freedom has a brand new Windows beta download!!!

Here's a link to the site.

I promise your productivity will bloom the moment you download this fabulous program.

I'm going to go drink champagne and collapse now...

10 Tips for Marketing Your Book Online

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This article appeared on Chuck Sambuchino's excellent site GUIDE TO LITERARY AGENTS May 16, 2010

Times are tough. Publishers are cutting back on just about everything: coop, author tours, marketing dollars—heck, their staffs. Newspapers are jettisoning their book sections. Magazines are going bankrupt, writing programs are being restructured, conferences are being cancelled. It is undeniably rough out there. So what’s an author to do in the face of all this adversity? Take advantage of the situation at hand, of course. There’s never been a better time to create your niche. The Internet is an overwhelmingly underused resource for authors who want to market themselves. And the best part? It’s free.

We’ve all seen the authors who are simply out there screaming "Me, me me!!!" They’re a big turnoff, right? So how do you go about getting your message out there, getting your book into the hands of loyal readers, without alienating possible friends and readers? Very carefully. Don't just push yourself on people; be a value-add author. Give them something back. Give them something they didn’t know they needed in the first place, and you’ve conquered what marketing is all about. Things to remember about marketing online include:

1. Respect your lists. If you send out too many notifications, people simply tune you out. My newsletter goes out quarterly. Publishing works slowly enough that you don’t need much more than that to get your news out. Everyone’s time is precious: If you treat them with respect, you’ll get respect.

2. What works for one won’t always work for others. As frustrating as this may be, it’s the truth. You can follow in every single step I took online and still not see the benefits. The trick is to be original, be open and willing, and be flexible. You never know where that next opportunity may come from.

3. Don’t compare or compete. Professional jealousy is an occupational hazard. Don’t fall into that trap. Each book, each author, is wildly different. Jealousy causes negative energy, which will trickle out in your attitude. Remember that comparing yourself to another author is like comparing apples and oranges—they don’t measure up properly.

4. Be polite. Always. Don’t engage, don’t be mean and spiteful, don’t gang up on people. Cyber-bullying isn’t just a problem in our schools. And especially don’t put your woes and frustrations online. Limit those conversations to your trusted friends. The Internet is not a giant group psychotherapy session, nor a group hug.

5. Don’t give up. When one door closes, a window opens. Things fall through. Media doesn’t get played, articles don’t get placed, short stories get bumped. Promises, sadly, do sometimes get broken, but if you can keep a healthy perspective on the industry, you’ll do fine.

6. Be open to new experiences. This is a foreign landscape for many people. If you limit yourself from the beginning, you may miss out on things. Read the writing magazines. Pay special attention to the Writer’s Digest segment on debut authors [called "Breaking In"]. Remember that this is your job, maybe even your second, or third. Things that are hard are usually worth it, you know? Very few authors can honestly say that their road to publication is easy, but there is a universal among them—they studied the market before submitting.

7. Be careful what you say online. Everything you say, everything, is recorded in perpetuity. Websites cache their material, which means even if you’ve gone back and deleted something, a version continues to live on. So be careful what you say. Think before you comment. Follow the adage your mom always taught: If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. You never know what sort of impact even the most casual negative comment can have.

8. Don’t ever, ever engage a reviewer over a negative review. Yes, it sucks that you got a one-star on Amazon. That’s one person’s very subjective opinion. Unless the comments are slanderous or libelous (which is rarely the case) you need to let them go.

9. I know some authors feel that being a lightning rod gains them readers. I don’t agree. I think the way you gain a readership is by doing two things: one, writing the absolute best book you can possibly write, and two, being a value-add author.

10. Build momentum (and your platform) by joining organizations. My first manuscript didn’t sell, and my agent suggested I try writing a new book, which I did. During that time, though, I didn’t abandon my online efforts. I kept up with my group crime blog (Murderati), as well as DorothyL, and several other listserves. I continued my weekly book picks on Publishers Marketplace. I started writing short stories and placing them in e-zines, raising my profile even more. And I volunteered to be a book reviewer for an online site, which enabled me to read everything I could get my hands on, knowing that reading is the key to better writing. All of that paid off. When my agent took the second book out onto submission, I now had a solid online platform. I was a crime blogger, a reviewer, a participant. The editors at the houses knew I was plugged in to the crime fiction network, that I had built myself a base of followers even before I sold my first book. And it worked. My first deal was for three books. So was my second. And my third.
Momentum. In this industry, it means a lot.

Now go forth, and conquer!