Houston Noir

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It’s a rare publisher who’ll let you write something really dark.

“What about the book clubs?” I’ve heard editors say. “Book clubs want something light to read while drinking wine, Gwen. Can you lighten it up?”

I can lighten it up, yes. I can even lighten up in general. But it hurts a little to do so, and a little more every time. It feels like lying, and until a writer sells film rights, lying feels like selling out.

That’s why it gave me immense pleasure to be charged with (and to charge for!) editing this book. It was pleasurable from the very beginning, when I contacted writers I knew and writers I wanted to know and invited them to write me something noir-ish. Several were already practiced in the dark (literary) arts and agreed off the bat. Others were unsure. “I’ve never written noir,” they told me. For those, I put on a pair of horns, picked up a pitchfork, and said, “But you could, couldn’t you? Don’t you have a story you’ve been wanting to tell — something tragic? Something full of anger? Something totally fucked up?”

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