It’s self-flagellation time in the Dungeon! So grab those whips, search your souls and don’t forget to make room for the Southerners and Catholics in the front row. We’ve got some guilt to distribute.... and you are the sole judge and jury.

Welcome to the mystery world of the new Millennium. It ain’t a pretty sight. The market is so glutted that readers can’t keep authors or titles apart, book store owners are growing cross-eyed paging through the new catalogs and sales reps haven’t a prayer of keeping up.

I can live with these frustrations. Especially since there’s not a damn thing I can do about them. But what I can’t live with -- and least not quietly -- is the conduct of those among who insist on pissing in the communal punchbowl by behaving like rats in a too-crowded cage.

You know who you are.

But just in case you can’t face the awful truth... I’ve given you some hints below. If you recognize yourself in any of these descriptions, remember you’re on the (dis)honor system: put on that hair shirt and whip away.

Self-styled divas: you know the type. There’s one at every publisher’s dinner (actual sales have nothing to do with this attitude, some of the worst offenders are mid-listers). She’s the one who won’t sit with the rest of the hired help and can most often be found glued to the chain store rep -- all but giving him a hand job under the table. Lady, has it occurred to you that the rest of us are in a position to recommend your books? Or not.

Publishers who treat you like children: Low advances and no publicity support are rightly based on economics. But a little respect costs nothing. So how’s about keeping us informed on our sales instead of making us beg? How’s about letting us know we’re on our own for publicity, instead of going through the charade of assigning us some over-worked 21-year old who won’t return our calls? Do you really think we aren’t going to notice if you keep us in the dark?

Genre haters: You know who I mean -- mystery writers who have suddenly decided they deserve “better.” So they’re refusing to have their books shelved in the mystery section, won’t submit their books for mystery awards or -- most egocentric of all -- want to rename the entire damn genre. Grow up already. All you’re doing is alienating your audience and making your books harder to find. Hmmm... on second thought, please keep doing exactly what you are doing.

Phony jacket copy: I’d like to line up every book jacket copywriter in the business and slap them silly with copies of their own misleading blurbs. Publishers have so alienated readers with hyperbole that many readers have thrown up their hands and stopped exploring new sub-genres. Show some integrity. Read the damn book first. And vow never to use the words “daring”, “spunky”, “sassy”, “new John Grisham,” “Patricia Cornwell,” “edge of your seat” or “brilliant and searing” ever, ever again.

Genre slumming: Oh lord, spare me from any more writers who cope with slumping sales in their own genre by moving over into the mystery field where they mistakenly believe they can whip out a few easy-to-write books and make a mint. You’re giving us a bad name. Your books leave a bad taste. It was a bad idea all along. So get along with your bad selves....

Conventions: At least those where women do all the organizing work, yet men fill all the special guest spots and dominate the entertainment, forcing the rest of us to sit with tepid chicken on our plates listening to obscure inside jokes. Enough said. I never want to attend another one of these. Where’s your self-respect, ladies?

Subgenre elitism: So you hate mysteries about cats... mysteries with spunky female P.I.s... mysteries with macho men P.I.s... cooking whodunits. Get over it. Plenty of people find your own subgenre over-done or just plain over. Slamming someone else’s niche isn’t going to alleviate the over-crowding in yours. And none of us are writing realistic mysteries, okay? A realistic mystery is an oxymoron: the real-life process is too damn boring.

“Romance” bashers: please, people -- get over yourselves. Romance mysteries have brought thousands of new readers to our genre and they are no less realistic than idiotic hardboiled tales of wrinkly old geezers zipping around large cities in small sports cars with buxom blondes dripping off their withered shanks.

Self-important agents: especially ones who adopt fake British accents or “lose” your manuscript, costing you months of valuable time. Face it: with few exceptions, you’re the used car salesmen of the mystery world. Please remember that the aspiring writer you delighted in stomping on is the beginning of it all -- you are entirely superfluous without him or her. (And, by the way, you’ve been watching too many Madonna movies.)

Convention sleazeballs: Attention to all you men (and women) who sprout an extra pair of hands every time a convention rolls around -- please use those extra hands to buy yourselves better jackets. Plaid is out.

Stereotyping: Why bother to actually read someone’s books when you can stereotype them and spare your precious ego the possibility that their books may be better than yours? Book chains have to stereotype. They lack imagination. We are writers. We do not. If you’ve never read a person’s books, then shut up already. Just because a person is marketed as a Patricia Cornwell wannabe doesn’t mean she is a Patricia Cornwell wannabe. Readers don’t believe the marketing -- why should you?

Apathetic chain store managers: I’m sorry. Perhaps you’d prefer to be managing a MacDonald’s? See this square object in my hands? It’s called a “book.”

Women who “don’t read other women”: Fie on you! Bad karma galore. Please step back. I want none of it on me. And you think this sort of attitude makes you... what? More attractive to male writers? A discriminating reader? (In what sense of the word?)

Men who don’t read anyone: This is the literary equivalent of refusing to stop and ask for directions. I’ve been in a room of ten male authors where it was obvious none of them had ever read each other and had no intention of doing so. Geeze guys, let’s just put life-size photos of your penises on the backs of your books and skip all the acting out.

Big chains that made no effort to broaden their horizons — or those of their customers — beyond the bestseller lists: You are, essentially, refusing to return to the mystery genre the support our genre has provided to you. May Border’s kick your ass in the big chain sweeps.

Reviewers who shun PBO’s: What decade are you stuck in? Some of the most original stuff in our genre is coming out in PBO because publishers can afford to take a chance when it’s a paperback run at stake. So what’s the matter? Is a free copy of a paperback book not worth enough in resale value? Come on. Dare to be different.

Mystery columnists who think they are funny: Especially ones who write about subjects the rest of us would just as soon forget. You’ve complained about publishers, reviewers, book sellers and authors... everyone but the readers. What are you, lady? Suicidal?

Go ahead: let it out! Tell us about your own pet mystery world peeves on the Tart City Message Board...