From the Booking Desk:
Fans of BOLO Books have surely noticed that Catriona McPherson is the most frequent Guest Post guest on this blog. There are many reasons for this–among them: 1. She asks, 2. I am a fan of her books, 3. She is a friend and advocate for not only my blog, but for all book bloggers, and 4. She’s genuinely a good person.
But there is another reason I want to highlight with this post in particular. All authors–at least those hoping to have a career–need to do guest posts for various outlets. It’s part of the gig, but it is additional work. Too many authors treat it as an obligation, a chore–and too often that disdain shows in the resulting essay. Not Catriona. I am sure she gets frustrated with having to take on the added work of all the marketing efforts just like every author would, but when she sits down to work on these tasks, she takes a moment to think about where they will be posted, what is the personality of the blogger, what type of audience do he/she/they draw, and then makes the effort to craft something meaningful for that particular opportunity. When you read this essay, you will no doubt understand what I mean. To say it brought me to tears wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration–not because it was so profound (which it sort of is), but because I know that when she was writing it, she was conscious that she was writing it for me and my followers. And she knew the message would land as intended. And let’s not forget that she did all of that while also succeeding in enticing people to pick up her book–which is the ultimate purpose of a marketing Guest Post. But you know what? Catriona proves you can complete the task, while also striving higher. And for that I am eternally grateful.
Pranks by Catriona McPherson
Will Rogers – truly a supplier of quotes for all occasions – once said “Everything is funny as long as it’s happening to someone else.”
I respectfully disagree. When I put a prank sub-plot in Scotzilla, I thought up a range of the things – simple and elaborate, benign and malignant, transparent and opaque. One thing I didn’t bother trying to do was make any of them funny. And this in a novel that’s a declared comedy too.
While Lexy and Taylor plan their wedding and then survey the wreckage when it all goes spectacularly wrong, others in Cuento are playing a series of pranks in the local cemetery. There’s a rainbow laser show projected onto the grave of a closeted man (elaborate, transparent, malignant), a box of doughnuts left on the grave of retired cop (simple, transparent, relatively benign) and some so mean and nasty I’ll leave them for anyone who chooses to read the book.
I didn’t so much as crack a smile as I wrote the cemetery pranks and it got me thinking: are pranks ever funny? Who is it who enjoys them? What sort of person loves them? Am I having my biggest yet sense of humour failure right now?
First of all, I’ve noticed that when people say they love pranks, they always mean they love playing them, not being the target of them. I couldn’t find any examples online or in real life of someone welcoming the fun of being soaked through, scared half to death or convinced that something shocking has just befallen them.
And as for people – coughmencough – who call themselves pranksters? I don’t think any other word would put a normal woman, or other man, or any gender of person at all, off a dating profile faster or more thoroughly. Except maybe “crypto”.
But, in a spirit of self-critique (it looks a lot like starting an argument in an empty room) I tried to think of pranks that were funny, hoping that the exceptions might prove the rule.
So . . . how about Colombia’s Day of the Innocents or our very own April Fools’ Day? These don’t infuriate me. In fact, there was once an April Fool prank that tickled me so much the details of it have entered my family lexicon. It was 1996, and there was report on BBC Radio 4 that a specifically French version of Microsoft Windows 96 was being rolled out, complete with a “random non-compliance feature”, whereby a baguette would appear on your screen accompanied by the word “non”. Now, my oldest and bestest friend had recently married a Frenchman at this point, and I found the story both endearing and plausible. Then I realised the date and the penny dropped that Fenêtre 96 was an April Fools’ prank. But the experience of being taken in so completely was brilliant. We still talk about that random non-compliance chip, or say “non” for short, when tech lets us down.
I think I laughed mostly because we all know what day it is on the first of April and so it’s on us if they get us, fair play to the pranksters. In fact, I know this is true when I reflect on it because once on Modern Family, Gloria and Manny (Colombian and Colombian-American) nearly gave Jay (Irish-American) a heart attack with a Day of the Innocents jump-scare. Not okay! Jay had never heard of the tradition. He wasn’t fair game. The prank was mean and the laughter cruel, in my opinion.
But those examples are apples and oranges, aren’t they? Being misled by a news story and being scared by a monster jumping out are fundamentally different experiences. Could I dredge up opposite pairings? A jump scare on April Fool’s Day and a head scratcher where the mark isn’t in on the joke?
I could!
One of the most memorable Candid Camera pranks I ever saw went like this: two guys carry a crate into a room, where there is a hidden (candid) camera. They are summoned, by a shout, to a different room. While they’re away, the pranksters, using a false wall, remove the crate and substitute one slightly bigger. The two guys come back, having been given the instruction to take the crate somewhere else in the building. But they can’t get it through the door. Because it’s too big.
My whole family ended up rolling about the floor laughing. The fact that the BLEEPs got faster and more furious as the men’s bewildered desperation grew only made us laugh harder. I’m laughing again now, remembering it.
In stark contrast, one April Fools’ Day I was in San Francisco, on the Embarcadero, where a prankster was crouching at the side of the walkway, disguised as a shrub. I walked past. The shrub came to life and scuttled towards me. Panic! Then I realised it was a prank and that some other people, who’d just been scared, had hung around to laugh at the next victim. April Fool! I hung around too. When the next victim jumped and shrieked, I went from being residually discombobulated to feeling sorry for her, embarrassed for the braying onlookers and regretful that I couldn’t creep up on the shrub and pop a balloon behind his head, see how he liked it. The whole thing seemed a lot more like bullying than fun, and those who were enjoying it made me remember that there used to be bear-baiting displays, and public executions. (Hey, I never claimed to be one of the world’s under-reactors.)
What that day led me to conclude was that pranks are often indistinguishable from bullying and the reason people who “love pranks” mean they love playing pranks is that it’s about power and control – also a feature of bullying. Plus, the defence “It’s a joke!”, “Haven’t you got a sense of humour?”, “Lighten up!” are identical to the kind of gaslighting that goes on around other kinds of bullying and even abuse.
But then what about the too-big crate and those delivery men turning the air blue? The thing is, when they found out it was a prank, they were relieved – the world made sense again! Like me when I got to stop trying to wrap my head round the baguette that went “non”. That’s a really different matter from being hounded into agreeing that your fright was funny, no matter what day it is
And the cemetery pranksters, in Scotzilla? They work in secret and leave their pranks to be discovered later. No jump-scares. But there’s no misleading followed by relief either. Their pranks are slurs played out in code. So are they wags? Fun-loving chuckle-mongers? Power-hungry, gaslighting sociopaths? Can’t tell you without spoilers, I’m afraid; just as I believe that pranks are mean, I believe that sub-plots have to be plot in the end. (In other words, you’ll have to read it and see.)
Cx
Synopsis of Scotzilla
Lexy Campbell is getting married! But in the six months of planning it took to arrive at the big day, she has become . . . a challenge. Friendships are strained to breaking point, Lexy’s parents are tiptoeing around her, and even Taylor, her intended, must be having second thoughts. Turns out it’s moot. Before the happy couple can exchange vows, Sister Sunshine, the wedding celebrant, is discovered dead behind the cake, strangled with the fairy lights.
Lexy’s dream wedding is now not just a nightmare: it’s a crime scene. She vows not to get drawn into the case, but the rest of the Last Ditch crew are investigating a bizarre series of goings-on in Cuento’s cemetery and every clue about the graveyard pranks seems to link them back to Lexy’s wedding day. Will the Ditchers solve the case? Will Sister Sunshine’s killer be found? Will Lexy ever get her happy-ever-after? Not even Bridezilla deserves this.
BUY LINKS: Scotzilla by Catriona McPherson
BIO: Serial awards-botherer, Catriona McPherson (she/her) was born in Scotland and immigrated to the US in 2010. She writes: preposterous 1930s private-detective stories; realistic 1940s amateur-sleuth stories about a medical social worker; and contemporary psychological standalones. These are all set in Scotland with a lot of Scottish weather. She also writes modern comedies about a Scot out of water in a “fictional” college town in Northern California. SCOTZILLA is book number seven of what was supposed to be a trilogy. She is a proud lifetime member and former national president of Sisters in Crime. www.catrionamcpherson.com
