Head Case
by Jennifer Oko
Welcome to BK Walker Books Etc. I'm so happy I
could join you today at your subtegmento.
It's apparently, the Esperanto word for attic. It sounds much more
interesting this way, no?)
BK: Yes, it does. Looking out the nearest window, (are their windows?) describe the
scene you see.
I am sitting a
small desk in the attic/playroom, and it only has skylights. In order to see
out, I have to look up. It’s gorgeous, so long as I can hold my head that way.
I see a few tree branches, a beautiful blue sky, and a little bit of rust
around the frame.
BK: Tell us about your office. Is it a mess like
mine, or is everything in its place?
Here’s a sneak
peak of a passage of the book I am working on now, in which my home office
plays a cameo:
Resigned,
I closed my laptop and walked across the makeshift home office I had crammed
into the corner of our small semi-finished basement, stepping across the
detritus of a rambunctious play date that had occurred two days prior, careful
not to impale myself with a stray Lego block.
It took dexterity to get to the bookshelf behind the train table without
causing myself physical harm, but I got there. I moved aside the tattered Dr.
Seuss tomes and a half dozen half-chewed board books and laughed at my own
obvious metaphor as I plucked my twenty-five-year-old copy of Crime and
Punishment off the shelf.
BK: What is a must-have, such as coffee or a
favorite pen, that you need to write?
Electricity. The
story of my laptop’s battery could be a murder mystery unto itself.
BK: Haha. I hate laptop batteries myself. Do you like to write in silence, or do you
need music or background noise?
My most focused
writing usually happens in noisy cafes. That’s why the battery situation is
such a bummer. My favorite cafe just got rid of all the public AC outlets.
BK: Tell us a bit about your hero/heroine, and
their development.
The narrator/heroine of Head Case is the
ghost of a murder victim named Olivia Zack. In life, Olivia was a PhD candidate
in neuroscience who had a penchant for experimenting with psychopharmaceuticals
and buying designer clothing she couldn’t afford. In death, her ghost tries
trying to figure out both how she was murdered, and in doing so, how her
relationship with her best friend had fallen apart. It’s her investigation of
her own murder that become the narrative.
One of my friends said HEAD CASE is
like a mystery mashup of Prozac Nation and Bridget Jones Diary, which makes me
laugh because there is probably some truth there.
BK: As a writer myself, I'm always curious how
other writers get through stumbling blocks. When you find a story not flowing,
or a character trying to fight you, how do you correct it?
Oh! If I had a
good answer for this I might have to patent it! Mostly, I just try to push
through, writing scenes that usually have nothing to do with the plot, but that
might give me a better sense of how my character moves about in the world. I
often write myself into crazy corners this way, but at least I am writing
something.
BK: Using
the letters of your first name as an acronym, describe your book...
This is funny to
me because for my day job I have been consulting at an enormous multinational
NGO and there EVERYTHING is an acronym. I can never figure out what anyone is
talking about.
How’s this:
Jealous
Energy
Never
Negates the
Intensity of
Friendship
Even after a
drug-fueled
Rub-out
BK: How did your writing journey begin?
My professional writing journey began
when I realized that a diary I was keeping during a rather bumpy period in my
life read a bit like a novel. Long story short, I took a memoir writing class,
cleaned it up, and ultimately it got published! The reviews for Lying
Together were really nice, and that helped me sell
my second book (Gloss) before it was even half written.
I think that I always wanted to be a
writer, but I just didn’t know it. I
co-wrote a novel with my best friend when I was eight (the title was It’s Nice
to Be Together and it featured a “together monster” as the central character),
but it wasn’t until my late twenties that I really started to embrace the idea
of becoming a professional author. Now, being an author is a huge part of my
identity. When my son was in kindergarten, he wrote me a card that said (his
spelling) “my mom is a good mom bcus she rote books.” I love that!
BK: Using
the letters from the word, Summer, how would friends and family describe you?
I am struggling
with this one, so I outsourced it.
Here’s what my
friend Maureen offered up (can you tell she’s also a writer?):
Smart as a
whip
Unflappable
Merry, but
Mordant
Energetic
Raconteur
BK: I loved it, lol. What is the craziest thing you've ever
written about, whether it got published or not?
I think Head Case
might be it! As one reviewer said, “there are drug-dealing grannies, pill-popping celebrities, Russian mob
bosses, eccentric ex-Soviet chemists, feuding roommates, faltering friendships,
bad bosses and a rat named Raskolnikov - so how can you not have fun?”
BK: Tell us one thing you've done in life, that
readers would be most surprised to know.
When I was 18, my
friend and I stowed away on a sailboat in Italy for a couple of nights. It was
a pretty stupid thing to do, but since nothing terrible happened, it’s a good
memory.
BK: What
can we expect from you in the future?
The above excerpt
is from the novel that I am currently working on. It’s still at that point
where I can’t really talk about it though... not so much because I am afraid
that someone will steal the idea or that I will jinx it, but more because I am
still trying to figure out where I am going with it. But there is a mom, a
murder, and a whole bunch of allusions to morbid moments in classic Russian
literature.
This or That...
Coke or Pepsi?
seltzer
Night Owl or Early Bird?
night
Fantasy
or Mystery?
Mystery
Pen/Paper or Computer?
Computer
Pizza or Burger?
Burger--if my
husband is grilling. Otherwise pizza, preferably from Sals.
Rock or
Country?
Rock
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Chocolate
Beach or Mountains?
Mountains, if
there is snow to ski on. Otherwise a beach and a book!
Thank you so much for having us as one of your
stops today. It has been great getting to know more about you and your book,
and wish you the best of success!
Thank you for
hosting me!
About
The Author:
Jennifer
Oko's first book, Lying Together: My Russian Affair (written
under her maiden name, Jennifer Beth Cohen), was published in 2004
and received numerous positive reviews. The New York Times Book
Review called Lying Together "riveting" and twice
named it an Editors' Choice. The San Francisco Chronicle raved,
saying it was "a heady cocktail" and "a quick, juicy
read." Her second book, a satirical novel about morning
television news entitled Gloss, was a Marie Claire "pick
of the month" in 2007 and chosen as a "hot summer read"
by USA Today.
Currently
working as a freelance writer and media consultant, Jennifer is a
"recovering" journalist and award-winning television news
producer. A graduate of Columbia University's Journalism School, her
career has taken her across the country and around the world.
Additionally,
Jennifer's writing has been published in a variety of magazines,
including The New York Times Magazine, New York Magazine, Maxim,
Self and Allure.
Jennifer
lives in Washington, DC with her husband and their son and daughter.
Website
| Facebook |
Twitter
Head Case
Genre: Humorous Mystery
Publisher: Jennifer Oko
Release Date: February
2013
Book Description:
As
one reviewer states: "HEAD
CASE is an enjoyable gem of a
mystery, and more...There are drug-dealing grannies, pill-popping
celebrities, Russian mob bosses, eccentric ex-Soviet chemists,
feuding roommates, faltering friendships, bad bosses and a rat named
Raskolnikov - so how can you not have fun?"
HEAD
CASE is a new, exciting and
sometimes laugh-out-loud funny mystery from an author whose work has
been called "SIMPLY RIVETING" by The
New York Times and "SHARP AND
FAST-PACED" by Publisher's
Weekly. It's like Alice Sebold's The
Lovely Bones meets Carl Hiaasen's
Nature Girl (with
a dash of Janet Evanovich's One for
the Money) as Olivia embarks on a
postmortem quest to deconstruct the remarkable events that lead up to
her mind-altering death.
A comic
satire of the influence of the psychopharmaceutical industry on
American life, HEAD CASE takes Olivia and her estranged friend and
roommate Polly Warner on a collision course involving ethically
challenged executives, spotlight-hungry celebrities, third-rate
mobsters and drug-dealing babushkas. A smart and savvy page-turner,
HEAD CASE explores the meaning of personal relationships, emotional
intelligence, and mental health while taking the reader on a
synapse-stirring, neurotransmitting rollicking ride.
Praise
for Head Case
"Head
Case is an enjoyable gem!" ~Dan
McGirt, Amazon Reviewer
"Oko's
writing is as addictive as the pills she pokes fun at!"
~ElevenelevenAM, Amazon
Reviewer
"All
I can say is that if you don't put ALL YOUR OTHER BOOKS AWAY and read
just the FIRST chapter you are NUTS; you will find yourself going and
going and I will just say it now --your welcome!" ~Jennifer
Elizabeth Hyndman, Amazon Reviewer
Excerpt
EXCERPT
one:
It's
all very dramatic. Although I suppose on some level, in the end, that
is what Polly wanted. I mean, she didn't want anyone dead, certainly
not anyone she knew. The opposite really. She once told me she just
wanted it all to be very alive. Life. Which is drama, right?
I
think she was probably right, that to some degree that's what we all
want. Or wanted. If we were going to be satisfied just living our
lives with the dull drudgery of the everyday, then why would we spend
so much time fantasizing about what's next, what's in, what's hot? If
dull drudgery made us fly, Polly wouldn't even have the silly career
she has. Celebrity publicists wouldn't exist. No one would aspire to
anything. And without aspirational living, who would care about
celebrities, luxury goods, or, hear me out now, the pursuit of
happiness. Right? So maybe there's a very direct link between our
celebrity culture and our societal eagerness to pop a pill.
I
know it might sound like a stretch that there could be a connection
between designer psychopharmaceuticals and, say, designer fashions,
but if you stop to consider that, with the exception of certain
celebrity Scientologists, just about everyone who is anyone in the
world of the aspirational has certainly popped a few in their time,
it makes sense. We live by these assumptions that overnight success
is possible, that shiny happy people are models to uphold, that
tomorrow any of us could be the next A-lister, the next
gazillionaire. Couldn't there be a connection here? If there is a
pill for every little micro-problem in our brains, why not believe
that there's a quick fix for everything else too? I'm sure Polly used
to believe that. I know she did.
This
is what's so nice about being dead.
I
get to play the role of wise sage, and with an amazing perspective.
Because when you die, not only can you flit around the present, you
also get to watch stuff in rewind. You get to go inside peoples'
heads in the past tense and follow the firings of their synapses,
medicated or not, as they spit them toward the present. Yes, Cher, it
turns out that you can turn back time. But the catch is-drum roll
please-you can't be alive to do it. And so, proverbial remote in
hand, I'm now able to backtrack; I can take a look and try to figure
out how this all happened to my best friend. And by extension, of
course, how this happened to me. How, at the ripe age of
twenty-eight, with a future as bright as whatever cliché the
tabloids will soon be gushing, my body-the body of Olivia Zack-is
lying down there in the back of a black Lexus SUV (license plate
NYX1KZ, in the event anyone can do anything with this information)
while I'm up here, floating around bodiless in the ether,
shape-shifting, wall-transgressing, house-haunting, and whatever else
it might be that you imagine we ghosts can do. I'm trying to figure
that out as well. After all, this is fairly new for me, too. I've
only been like this for a few minutes, just long enough to zip up to
Polly's apartment and witness her flailing about, waiting for me to
come and comfort her once again.
Anyway,
in order to figure this out, it seems logical that before I can fully
focus on my ending, I need to go back to the source of the whole
mess. Because it's very clear, especially considering the other blood
that was spilled near my remains, that I seem to have gotten caught
up in a drug war. And I'm not talking crack cocaine. I'm talking
Prozac. I'm talking Ritalin. I'm talking Adderall, Lexapro, Zyprexa,
Klonopin and what have you. The good stuff. The blockbusters. The
billion-dollar babies.
Go
get some popcorn. The show's about to begin.
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