To be interested in a book, the story has to have narrative drive. Like a sound building, the structure of the novel has to be unshakeable. The subtext has to be there, the characters have to be there, and every sentence has to drive the reader forward. When a friend had read an early version of this story, I asked her why she finished it. "To find out what happened," was her response. When a story's pages go by and you don't notice it, it has narrative drive. Chris Orcutt describes it this way:
Over the past year, I've become obsessed with the writers of paperback noir/crime/sleaze novels from the late 40s through the 60s. Having now read at least 100 of them (no small feat, considering how difficult they are to find), I can say with authority that these guys knew better than any other authors of their time (and today, for the most part) how to hook the reader and keep him hooked.And yes, the covers were eye-catching, but as titillating as they were, they weren't enough to keep men reading if the story sucked.(www.orcutt.net)Writing and publishing are entrepreneurial activities. For my thoughts on entrepreneurship, go to www.hatman2.blotspot.com. For my thoughts on entrepreneurial real estate, go to www.yourstopforrealestate.com/blog.
Ian Kearney, the director of the Kearney Music School, an elite musical training school in Philadelphia, dies after a fall from a balcony during a recital. World-famous cellist, Henry Harrier, recently forced from the faculty, returns to investigate Ian's death when his prized former student is arrested. Henry shows through his brilliant and single-minded pursuit of the truth that, as usual, they have it all wrong. This Sherlock Holmes-type mystery leads the reader through the world of classical music and lays bare the conflicts which dominate the lives of talented adolescents when placed under the pressure of studying for a demanding, stressful, and often elusive career as a classical music performer. Henry Harrier is part John Le Carre's George Smiley, part Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes, and part Orlando Cole the beloved teacher, renowned chamber musician, and until his own retirement, the premier cellist of the Curtis Institute.
Tim was born in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, on January 30, 1946. In 1951 he moved with his family to Schenectady, New York, where he lived through high school. He attended Baldwin-Wallace College, Berea, Ohio, from 1964 to 1968. He graduated in 1968 with a B.A. in history and philosophy. He received his Ph. D. in history in U.S. history in 1980 from the University of Wisconsin-Madison after spending 2.5 years in the U. S. Army. Most of his army service was completed in Wuerzburg, Germany, from 1969-1971. In 1972 he returned to Madison to complete his doctoral study. His dissertation, Those Who Moved; Internal Migrants in American 1607-1840, combined the statistical analysis of genealogical and biographical data with the study of traditional literary diaries, letters, and journals.
