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Career Answers for Career Authors

 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: When I think about all the things I didn’t know when I started writing fiction eleven years ago, it truly makes me laugh.

And now it makes me, well, understanding—and jealous-- when a new newbie has the courage to ask a question. At least they know enough to know what to ask.

*Do I have to finish the book to get it sold?

*How many murders do there have to be in a mystery?

*Is it okay if I used colored font?

*How many characters should there be in my book?

*How many pages in a chapter?

*Does there have to be a death on page one? Or page three?

*Does the murder have to be solved in the end?

All good questions. All things we all discuss, right?

(There are also the people who have no idea—I got an email from a writer who wanted me to “get an agent” for him.

Or the woman who asked me to “edit her first three chapters.” When I did, and gave her some input, she got angry, and told me “You just don’t get my story.”

Or the person who said--I can’t figure out how to write the end of this. Can you do it for me?)

But the real author questions, the ones that come from the focused, serious, determined people who want to write a book, want it to be good, want it to be sold—there are just so many things to figure out.

*How do I write a synopsis?

*Should I have an author page on Facebook?

*Does Twitter matter?

*Should I do a prologue?

*How do I get an agent?

When I started, I was so clueless, I wrote six chapters, and blithely sent them to two agents. I got this, I told myself.

I got letters from each of them. Rejections.

One said: You are a terrific writer, but this is the worst plot ever. The other said: This is a great story, but I am sorry to say your writing does not impress me.

Or some such. But two different, completely different, responses. Both true? Neither true? Who knows. (I do know , in looking back at that abandoned manuscript, that I had no clue about point of view. But that’s another discussion.) 

Now I am so pleased to be part of another blog, a new blog, that hopes to help answer some of those questions—an so many more. And not only for newbies ,but middlebes, and oldbies, and whatever other be-ings walk the writers pathway.

With another author (the incredibly talented Laura DiSilverio) , a terrific agent, a big-time editor and a genius marketer, we’ve started Career Authors, a blog that’s designed to be a daily one stop shopping for your writing questions. Something new three times a week, and discussions (and questions answered) on Facebook, and a newsletter. With guest authors and inspiration on the weekends!

It’s fast, it’s smart, and there’s no chit-chat or timewasting. You’re a pro. Visit once a day, then get back to writing Want to hear more? Sign up here.

What questions would you love to ask? Let us know on Facebook.

The blog goes live tomorrow!

We’ll give you the answers you need from all points in the publishing spectrum. It’s for career authors. Are you with us?

Stupid writing tricks

by Donna Andrews of the Femmes Fatales.

Every so often someone asks me if I have any advice for other writers. Trouble is, most of the really wise writing advice I come up with sounds strangely simple and stupid when I write it down.

Then again, maybe that's a good thing.

So in no particular order, here are three stupid writing tricks I've found useful.

Try new stuff.

Last year I helped to organize a writing marathon for our local chapters of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America. I will freely confess that I felt no particular desire to participate in a writing marathon. I rather disliked the idea of writing in a room full of other people. I'm a solitary writer. I don't even want music playing when I write. But several writer friends spoke highly of the writing marathon experience. And we were trying to come up with new and different ideas for our meetings. So not only did I help organize the marathon, I went myself. To set a good example.

It was incredibly productive. I got 2500 words done in an afternoon. We've since done two more marathons, and every time, I blow my usual daily quota out of the water. Who knew?

So if you hear about something new that might help your writing—a technique, a class, a book, a software program—try it. You never know.

If you're stuck, move your fingers

Sometimes, when I face an empty screen—or more likely, the half empty screen on which what I did the day before stands impatiently waiting for me to continue it—nothing happens. I can't seem to get started with the next sentence. The cursor blinks, the clock ticks . . .

When this happens, the first thing I do is check to see if this is one of those occasions when I should follow Raymond Chandler's advice: “When in doubt, have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand.” Since my books aren't hard-boiled, this almost never seems to work, but I live in hope.

So if Chandler fails me, I toggle over to a new screen and at the top I type something like “what has to happen in this scene.” Then I start making a list. Meg has to find out who owns the unicycle. Chief Burke has to appear and then she has to find a way to get him to reveal whose fingerprints were found on the longbow. And then Dad has to burst onto the scene, full of enthusiasm because the mime wasn't killed by an arrow but by taxine poisoning. Then I will remind myself that I need to mention, before Dad arrives, that the longbow was a high-end bow made from the finest wood of the Pacific yew (taxus brevifolia), so when Dad mentions taxine the astute reader will wonder if there's a connection.

Before too long, one of the items in my list of things that need to happen in this scene catches my interest, and I start coming up with little bits of description and dialogue, so I keep going with them . . .

And eventually I toggle back to the main screen and dive into the day's work. Writing about what you're supposed to be writing often turns into writing itself.

When in doubt, do something else

No, I'm not advising you to give up your writing career. Just suggesting that on those days when you just can't face the keyboard . . . when every word you type is garbage . . . when you find yourself thinking you want to do something else today—anything else . . .

Okay. Roll with it. Pick the meanest, nastiest, most thankless, mindless task on your to do list. Preferably one that's time consuming and physically challenging and will create a lot of dirt and clutter during the process of doing it. Got one in mind? Okay. Start doing it. One of three things will happen.

1. You'll cringe at the thought of even beginning this chore, and suddenly writing will seem delightful by comparison.

2. You'll get your chore done. You've still got your writing to do, but at least you've done something productive.

3. You'lll get to the middle of the chore, when you've created the maximum possible disorder in your life . . . and suddenly you will be unable to resist the siren call of the keyboard.

In my experience, option number 3 is by far the most likely. Seriously; I'm writing this in an office filled with small piles of paper and random collections of file folders, because when I first got up this morning, catching up on my filing seemed much more amusing than trying to write my quota. And suddenly, when I was running out of horizontal surfaces to hold one more pile of paper or file folders—

I switched gears. I did my quota and then some. And then I wrote this blog. And tomorrow morning, with any luck, when I see the vast expanse of partially sorted paper, I will retreat immediately into the blissfully paperless world of my draft.

There you go. Three stupid writing tricks that you just might find helpful. And if you don't—stay tuned. I'll probably think of a few more in a week or two. Sage advice of earth-shattering consequence isn't really my forte, but stupid writing tricks? That I can do.

Want to share yours?

 

Up, up and away

by Kris Neri of the Femmes Fatales

I floated up where the clouds reign recently, and it was awesome. Joe and I took a hot air ballon ride through Northern Lights Balloon Expeditions in Sedona, AZ.

In case you’ve ever thought you might like to try it, let me tell you about this amazing experience.

The pick up time was 5:20 am. Ungodly early, but the wind is tame at that hour. The payoff for that is seeing the sunrise from the basket of a hot air balloon! Although I wore a T-shirt with 3/4 sleeves, I was still chilled and I wished I’d worn a sweatshirt while we waited for the balloons to be readied. Little did I know I’d be warm enough once we were aloft, thanks to all those blasts of burning gas that hot air balloons require.

It’s really kind of fascinating to watch the balloon prep. They spread the giant balloons out on the ground and shoot burning gas into them, to heat the air inside. When the air is warm enough, the balloon rises.

 

The funniest part — and the most unexpected — is climbing into the basket. I just assumed they’d have portable stairs. Oh, noooo. Instead, you stick one foot into a slit along the side of the basket, and then you throw your leg over the side, as if you were climbing onto a horse. I did okay climbing in; maybe not so graceful climbing out, after my poor old joints had stiffened a little during the long ride.

Amazingly, you don’t even feel that you’re lifting off the ground, it’s that smooth. I had to look down to realize we’d started our rise. But our pilot, Blair, had been flying balloons for 29 years he told us, and his touch with flying the balloon was as light as flying on a feather.

Most of the people who take hot air ballon flights here are probably tourists. I imagine visitors see the scenery differently. Try seeing your own locale from the air — but not too far up; not like from a plane — and it will look entirely different than you think it does. For instance, there’s some space around some of our neighborhoods around here. When you drive past in car, the space between goes by in a flash. From aloft, I could see those spaces around neighborhoods were bigger than I thought. 

And here in Sedona, while on the ground, the eye is always drawn to the arresting red rock formations. From the air, the balance between the red rocks and green hillsides was more evident.

One of the coolest effects occurred when we approached a hillside, with the sun behind us. Our balloon cast a shadow on the hill.

We saw that same effect again when we were headed in for a landing. That time we didn’t just see the shadow of the balloon, but the basket as well.

There were three balloons in the sky the day we went up. It was fun to watch the other pilots’ movements. They would occasionally drop down and catch a breeze, and travel sideways on it.

Our pilot brought us all down in a big open field, along with the other balloons and their passengers. There they gave us mimosas, strawberries and whipped cream, and fritters as a little brunch. Apparently, it is a ballooning tradition to always have champagne after a flight.

There really aren’t enough superlatives to do it justice. Even better than being a bird, this must be what it’s like to ride on a cloud.

It’s the most fun thing I’ve done lately. How about you?

What? I've Got to Go Out in the Sleet to Get My Pizza?

By Elaine Viets

           An arctic wind is howling, the sleet is lashing your windows. It's a good night to stay in. You're in your jammies and robe, Netflix is fired up, and you call for a pizza.
           But if Domino's has its way, you won't stay snug and warm. You'll have to fight the sleet and snow to pick up your pie.
         Domino's is testing a new way to deliver pizza, according to Business Insider. A self-driving vehicle will bring your pizza to your home. No, wait. To your curb. You'll have to go down those slippery front steps, across your icy driveway and slide out to the self-driving car waiting at the curb, pick up your pizza, and go back through the wind and ice. You and your pie will arrive inside, dripping icicles.

          Don't believe me? Here's the article: http://tinyurl.com/y7ecb5o6
                This grim vision of the future will be offered to "randomly selected customers in Ann Arbor, Michigan," the article said.
Ann Arbor! A place where it's cold enough to freeze the balls off . . . a pool table. (Gotcha, didn't I?)
        A Ford Fusion Hybrid autonomous research vehicle will deliver the pizza and a "Ford engineer will still be manually driving the car," the story said, "which will also be staffed with researchers eager to crack the code of how to deliver pizza without a driver — as well as observe how customers will react to the futuristic delivery service."
            Here's my reaction: It's the worst idea since pineapple pizza, the darkest development in pizza history.

            The article says, "Right now, the company's biggest challenge isn't getting a car to drive itself — it's getting the pizza from the curb to the door. In the Ann Arbor test, customers have to walk out to the parked car and retrieve their pizza from the vehicle's 'Heatwave Compartment' themselves."
            Domino's already has a system for getting pizza from the Heatwave Compartment to the front door: They're called pizza drivers, one of the most underpaid, overworked jobs in the country. Pizza delivery is dangerous – more dangerous than being a cop. Pizza drivers are held up, hijacked and hit on by scum that's been scraped off a bar stool.
        The pay is poor, and drivers are often stiffed for their tips. And pizza delivery batters the soul. Listen to Big Al the Pizza Dude. He's a character in my new Angela Richman, death investigator novel, Fire and Ashes. An important character. Eighteen-year-old Al helps bring to justice arsonists who are setting fires in the wealthy community of Chouteau Forest, Mo.
        How does he find the vital information? Because pizza drivers are invisible.
            Actually, they're worse than invisible. In Fire and Ashes, when Al delivers pizzas to a rich kid's party, Carlie answers the door – in skimpy flesh-colored underwear. She is underage, and keeps dropping her money so Al gets a good look at everything. Carlie taunts and teases Big Al. Death investigator Angela Richman worries that Carlie's older brothers, Kip and Duke, will beat up the handsome young driver for looking at their jail bait sister. Al explains why that won't happen in this scene in Fire and Ashes.

            “You don’t get it!” Al was almost shouting. “You just don’t get it. Duke didn’t see me. Kip didn’t see me. Carlie didn’t see me. I was standing right in their house, but I’m invisible. I’m the pizza dude in a polyester uniform that stinks of pepperoni.”
          “So you’re a ghost,” Angela said.
          “No!” Al was pacing again. “I’m not a ghost. A ghost used to be human. I don’t exist in their world. They can say whatever they want around me. That’s why Carlie parades around naked in front of me. She gets to tease the nobody, the nothing, and I can’t do anything about it. If I tried to grab her, I’d be in jail. If I said anything, they’d beat me senseless. They can do what they want because I’m not a person. They don’t care what they say in front of me, any more than you care what you say in front of your couch. I’m not a person. I’m a thing.”
             Angela had never heard a sadder—or more accurate—explanation of the Forest social structure.

         Domino's wants to eliminate its overworked, unpaid, teased, taunted and invisible drivers with driverless cars – devices that subject customers to the same hardships the drivers endure – for at least 50 feet.
         All I can say is – Domino's, you've got a lot of crust.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last day to win Fire and Ashes, the new Angela Richman, Death Investigator mystery. Go to www.elaineviets.com and click Contest.

 

No words

by Donna Andrews of the Femmes Fatales.

Here at the Femmes Fatales we're no different from the rest of the country--we're having a hard time keeping our minds off what's happening in Houston, and an equally hard time finding anything to say about it.  Dean James, one of our Femmes Fatales members, used to live in Houston and work at Murder by the Book, and Julie Wray Herman, a Femme emerita, still lives there.  Julie and her family are fine; and Dean is very proud that Murder by the Book was one of the indie bookstores that opened its doors to people who could use coffee, wifi, AC, and a charge for their devices. More on that here.

Meanwhile, if you're wondering what you can possibly do to help, the Washington Post published a great article on just that--thanks to Kelli Stanley who brought the link to our attention.

 

 

 

 

 

Deceitfulness and Suavity . . .

. . . the markers of Macavity. Today's blog is a get-together of the six suave and deceitful (in our books) nominees for the Mystery Readers' International 2017 Historical Macavity award: Susanna Calkins, James Ziskin, Lyndsay Faye, Ann Parker, Edith Maxwell et moi.

What a line-up, eh?  Suzie brings an academic historian's training to her 17thc London-set mysteries, Jim writes 1960s journalist Ellie Stone in her hard-scrabble Hudson-river town by pure voodoo (IMHO), Lyndsay made the whole writing world say "I wish I'd thought of that" with her romantic satire on Jane Eyre, Ann has struck gold in the 19thc silver hills of Colorado, Edith has made a Quaker midwife seem like a perfectly plausible private eye, and I wrote about herrings. 

Everyone knows that the crime-writing world is one great big dysfuctional happy family, right? As well as the writers - who're not rivals, no matter what cynics would say - there's also an extended family of reviewers, bloggers, librarians, booksellers and readers who make the book world the best place to be. Indeed, the historical Macavity is named for Sue Feder, a bookseller and reviewer (who has a library named after her). And so I thought we'd take this chance to sing the praises of book-family-members who've helped us and others along the way.

 Beloved Librarian by Lyndsay Faye

Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, there wasn’t much to do as kids other than squashing pennies on the railroad tracks, playing on the railroad tracks, and distressing our parents by frolicking on the railroad tracks.  So I turned to books at a very early age.  The Longview Public Library featured an enormous kids’ section, a cozy working fireplace, and two bathtubs lined with shag carpet and pillows that were hotly, even physically, contested over.

My favorite librarian, Sandra, presided over this happy realm.  One day, on the recommendation of my dad, I marched inside determined to locate the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. After searching high and low, I informed Sandra that I didn’t really think much of a library that didn’t shelve Sherlock Holmes--after all, I was only ten, and even I had heard of the Great Detective.

Oh, sweetie,” she said.  “Those are in the adult fiction department, on the mezzanine.”

Thus I graduated from the realm of whimsically furnished bathtubs to the mysterious halls of our library’s upper stories.  Sandra was there to help me navigate, always, just as she was with all the kids from my town.  Whether we ended up wanting Heinlein or Hemingway, Sandra was our sherpa.  And for generations of Longview kids, she will always be the librarian.

 

Best Booksellers: Susanna Calkins 

Before my first novel, A MURDER AT ROSAMUND’S GATE, was published in April 2013, I really hadn’t known any booksellers personally, and I had not yet learned about why cultivating positive and authentic relationships with booksellers is so very important for authors.

About three weeks after my novel came out, I headed to Malice Domestic, my very first conference as a PUBLISHED AUTHOR. I knew my panel time and my signing time, and that was about it.

So, after I checked into the conference, the first thing I did was to excitedly walk into the book room, looking for my books.

 And I looked...and I looked...and I looked.

Not one of the sellers had carried them. I’ll admit a small tear came to my eye when I asked the    booksellers at Scene of the Crime books, Don and Jen Longmuir, was there anything I could do.

And I still remember that Don went to the local Barnes & Noble, bought the three available copies, and brought them back, just so I would have books to sign at my first conference! What a lovely thing to do!

While I’ve since learned that not having books at a conference is not actually the tragedy I first imagined, I’ll never forget that incredible kindness from Don and Jen. And they will always have a very loyal customer in me.

 

Start 'em young, by Edith Maxwell

Kate Gove is the children’s librarian in the town where my sons grew up. We lived only a block from the library, and moved there when my kids were five months and three years, respectively.

Kate’s mother Kay was the head librarian, and they lived together. At work the two women dressed similarly, too, in blouses, neat skirts, nylons, and flat shoes. Kate, perhaps because she didn’t have children of her own, was always even-keeled and welcoming to children without gushing or speaking down to them. She ran splendid story hours, did messy crafts, and had an encyclopedic memory for books.

Kate didn’t bat an eye when my older son, age six, went from zero reading skills to reading an adult book on the Civil War six months later, and she helped my younger son at one point find a seemingly endless supply of novels about young people living through the Holocaust.

Thank you, Kate Gove, for supporting my children’s love of books, and helping so many kids love the library.

 

Ellie's Watson, by Jim Ziskin

It’s 1960. Ron "Fadge" Fiorello is Ellie Stone's confidant and best friend in the world. Watson to her Holmes. He runs a small ice cream sundae shop across the street from Ellie's apartment in New Holland, NY. Some readers know that the six-foot-two, three-hundred-plus-pound Fadge is the only character in the series based on an actual person. Robert “Fadge” Fariello owned Fariello’s Home of the Hot Fudge in Amsterdam, NY. That was when when he wasn’t betting on the horses, a pastime he considered his true job. He graduated from Marquette University with a journalism degree, but returned to his home town to run his father’s store, a local institution since 1925, also known as Sammy’s. This is Fariello’s about two years ago. It has since closed and is for sale.

Fadge hired my best friend, me, and even a couple of my brothers to work at Fariello’s during our junior-  and senior-high-school days. Like Rick’s of Casablanca fame, everyone went to Fariello’s. At least on Friday and Saturday nights. The teenagers who patronized the place didn’t even seem to mind that Fadge would occasionally hit the jukebox’s reset button if he didn’t like the song they’d selected. And woe to you if Fadge caught you stealing candy or magazines. Lots of great memories in that old place.

Fadge had a tremendous influence on my life, my politics, musical tastes, and my sense of humor. He is the inspiration for a very special character in my books. Robert “Fadge” Fariello died of brain cancer at Christmas 1985, but the big guy lives on—at least for me—in my Ellie Stone murder mysteries.

 

Janice Fox – "Rocky Mountain high" research librarian, by Ann Parker

I love librarians, so asking me to pick a non-writer who's my hero was always going to lead me to a librarian. But asking me to pick JUST ONE librarian is tough. However, that said, the person I would choose to salute and offer three cheers to is Janice Fox, research librarian and historian extraordinaire, of Lake County Public Library, Leadville, Colorado.

Since my historical mystery series is mostly set in Leadville, but I don’t live there, I often turn to Janice with panicky (last minute) questions, such as: How would someone get to Leadville’s cemetery in 1880 from downtown? (Answer: Up Ha rrison and turn west on Twelfth.) And, what did the jail look like in 1880? (She promptly emailed me a dandy detailed description.) Janice has also saved me from making some ignorant “oopses,” such as when I mentioned the gray dust in Leadville. (It’s not gray, it’s orange… and she even sent me a photo of mining tailings in the area so I could see the color and describe it for myself). 

Besides being an expert and passionate about Leadville’s history, she’s just an all-around super-nice person. In short, Janice is more precious than gold and I’m grateful to her beyond words!

 

Not everyone's a critic, by Catriona McPherson

There were so very many people I could have written about: three thousand Sisters in Crime for a start; or the fabulous bloggers Dru Ann Love and Kristopher Zgorski; or publicist and all-round good egg Erin Mitchell. These three never write a critical word. They share their enthusiasm for books they love and keep quiet about books they don't love. No snubs, no sneers.  They bubble over with positive energy. And there's someone else who works hard for mystery writers: running a mystery bookclub, editing a mystery magazine, hosting some of the best literary salons you'll ever lounge at with an absinthe (not really).I'm speaking, of course, about Janet Rudolph.

Janet runs Mystery Readers International - who present the Macavity awards, publishes Mystery Readers' Journal, with themed issues on every topic under the sun, blogs on chocolate, and manages - like Dru, Kris and Erin - never to write a cross word. For writers, who have to smile (not swear) as strangers accuse us of churning them out, dialling it in and jumping on bandwagons, this means a lot. 

And those salons! It's not unusual for best-selling, award-winning writers on big national tours to make three stops in California: LA, San Francisco and Janet Rudolph's living room. Ian Rankin was just there. Kent Krueger stopped by recently. And Gregg Hurwitz. And Val McDermid. And . . . these people don't drive those twisty Berkeley hills to practise parking on a postage stamp at a blind bend. Janet Rudolph rocks!  

Summiting

by Donna Andrews of the Femmes Fatales.

I'm not sure when “summit” became a verb as well as a noun. “He became the oldest person to summit Everest.” Has it been that way for a very long time, or did it succumb to our modern tendency to verb nouns?

I'd look it up, but I'm too tired.

A good kind of tired, for the most part. The garage sale is in my rear view window now. I could never have done it without the incomparable Sherry Harris, who helped me price things before the sale and brought her fabulous husband Bob to help me on the day of the sale. They showed up at 7:30 and stuck it out till about 3:00, when we'd finally boxed up all the outdoor items and either stacked them in the garage for an already scheduled charity pickup or in a few cases brought them into the house to be sold online.

(Those are Sherry's book covers decorating this blog. She won't let me take her and Bob to dinner to thank them. Although I'll continue to suggest it. Meanwhile, check out her books. Quite apart from the fact that she's such a nice person, she writes good books.)

And then all day Sunday I felt blah. Physically and emotionally drained. I stayed in bed till noon. Took a two hour nap in the late afternoon. Went to bed earlyish.

Why did I feel so blah? I had a nice wad of bills in my pocket. I waved goodbye to a lot of unwanted stuff. Another big batch of stuff is slated for pickup by a worthwhile charity. And I have at least a rough plan for dealing with the rest of my decluttering. I should be celebrating, right?

Well, I was. I am. But Sunday afternoon I realized why I felt so blah.

I'd just summited . . . a foothill. I had more peaks ahead of me. Possibly higher peaks.

Since everything that rattles around in my brain eventually comes back around to writing, I realized this was a familiar feeling.

Aspiring writers think of getting published as the ultimate goal. The peak accomplishment. They struggle, and if they're good and smart and lucky, they achieve it. Then what do they find?

More peaks. You're published, but have you gotten good reviews? Any reviews? Is your book selling? You've managed to get published—now there's staying published. Does your publisher want your next book? Can you finish the next book on deadline? Will readers like your second book as much as the first, or will they write you off as a one-hit wonder? Can you get a signing in your local bookstore? Why aren't you making the bestseller lists? Or nominated for awards? Or--?

Conventional wisdom has it that if one member of a writing group gets published, the group is doomed unless the other members also manage to get published within a reasonable time. And while there are plenty of exceptions, it often happens. I can understand why. To a writer longing for publication, the problems her published friends are dealing with sound like wonderful problems to have. Enviable problems. First world problems! Why are these lucky published writers still whining?

Because enviable problems are still problems. And not until you summit the peak of getting published do you even see all the other daunting peaks ahead of you.

So that's what I was feeling on Sunday. I'd summited the peak of holding my yard sale. A reasonably successful one, Sherry assures me. But ahead of me lay more peaks. More work. Separating the unwanted stuff that's good enough for donation from what I should just trash or recycle. Getting the donated stuff picked up. Figuring out how to sell the stuff that wasn't suitable for a yard sale. For example, we put out all the vintage patterns with prices lower than what similar patterns were selling for online. Not sure we sold a one. There are definitely people who want them, but they didn't come to my yard sale. Online is the answer. More work.

I didn't even want to think about it on Sunday.

This morning I'm taking a deep breath, and working very hard on changing “yes, but” to “yes.”

So when someone says, “Congratulations! You're getting published!”

The right response: “Yes. Thank you!”

Not “Yes, but my Amazon numbers aren't good . . . yes, but my agent isn't happy with my proposal for the next . . . yes, but someone gave it a one-star review.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Enjoy the peak you've conquered.

And when someone says to me “Hey, you survived your yard sale!” the right response is not “yes, but not everything sold” or “yes, but I still need to finish decluttering my basement” or “yes, but it was so much work.”

“Congratulations! You survived your garage sale!”

“Yes. Thank you. Hallelujah!”

p.s.

Garage sale or yard sale? Tag sale seems specific to New England. I tend to use yard sale and garage sale interchangeably. Am I weird?

I'd look it up but . . . still a little tired.

 

 

Welcome, Erica Donato, Brooklyn sleuth!

The Femmes Fatales are delighted to welcome guest blogger, Triss Stein, who will tell us all about her Brooklyn mystery series. -- Marcia

=======

When I started writing my Brooklyn series, I wasn’t thinking several books ahead. The truth is that I was barely thinking several chapters ahead. All I knew was that I wanted to write a traditional mystery series based on my belief that Brooklyn’s very diverse neighborhoods resemble small towns. I knew I wanted to write an amateur urban sleuth who lives a real life with real, everyday problems, along with her mystery solving. I also wanted – no, I needed- to give her a reason to solve more than one mystery. Yes, readers of an amateur sleuth book bring a willing suspension of disbelief but it’s the author’s job to make it easy for them.

I had the idea to make her a Brooklyn girl, born and bred, and a historian, writing a dissertation on how Brooklyn neighborhoods change. There it was, a great excuse for her to explore a different neighborhood in each book, stumble across crimes old and new, and ask questions no one wants answered. And I could indulge my history geekiness and even call it work.

Insofar as I had a long-term plan, it was to keep Erica Donato in graduate school forever, or at least, until I ran out of Brooklyn stories I wanted to tell. (That probably equals forever).

The editor in chief thought otherwise.

As my publisher requests, I sent in the first hundred pages. The editor wrote back. “Get that girl out of grad school!” OK, she didn’t say exactly that, she was diplomatic and thoughtful, but that was the message. My response was “Wait! What???”

Then I gave it some thought. I had to admit to myself that though I had the fascinating background of the Brooklyn Navy Yard in its greatest wartime days and its long death, and I had some interesting characters obligingly show up, I had been a little bored with the writing. Erica was stuck, and so the story was stuck and I was stuck. Ah, yes. The editor was right. I needed to move Erica forward in her life.

Having admitted that, however reluctantly, my mind woke up and started generating new ideas. Her advisor pushes her to get that dissertation done on time for her scheduled graduation. An additional source of conflict! Who will she be if she is finished with school after all those years? See Erica grow! Who will interfere with her assigned goal? Let’s add a distraction, a family mystery to solve that is related to the girls who went to win a war by building ships.

And there is still a mystery to solve, of course. Having earlier written a book where the victim had no enemies, in Brooklyn Wars I wrote a victim who had nothing but, starting with his nearest and dearest and working out in widening ripples. Or so it seems at first.

Triss Stein grew up in northernmost NY state but has spent most of her adult life in Brooklyn. This gives her a useful double perspective for writing mysteries about the neighborhoods of her constantly changing adopted home. In the new book, Brooklyn Wars, her heroine Erica Donato witnesses a murder at the famous Brooklyn Navy Yard and finds herself drawn deep into both old and current conflicts.  

Triss will send a copy of Brooklyn Wars to one of our readers drawn at random from the comments.  Another lucky reader will get a copy of Brooklyn Bones.  Thanks for being our guest today, Triss.

 

 

Wide World of Writing

by Leigh Perry / Toni L.P. Kelner

I realized something wonderful last week.

I was at Gen Con, which is THE convention for tabletop gaming. Board games, role-playing games, card games... This year was the 50th Anniversary, and over 60,000 attendees descended upon Indianapolis for the four-day extravaganza. Yes, you read that right: over 60,000.

Now I've spent many happy hours playing tabletop games ranging from Monopoly and Life, to Dungeons and Dragons, to Trivial Pursuits, to Munchkin and Uno. But the real reason I went was for the Gen Con Writer's Symposium. The Symposium is one of many programming tracks associated with Gen Con, meaning that it's a sideline for the con. But remember, the con itself was 60,000 people--this sideline included several thousand attendees. Under the watchful eye of Marc Tassin, who runs the show, we had signings, readings, and of course, panels about the writing process. It was the programming that made me think of something.

Now when it comes to my author-related appearances, I mostly stick to mystery conventions, with science fiction & fantasy conventions a close second. Now and then I go to a romance convention, too. But the writers at Gen Con are a whole 'nother breed. There's not a huge mystery presence--as far as I know, the only mystery writers were me, my husband Steve, and Author Guest of Honor (and Former Femme) Charlaine Harris. Most of the rest write SF&fantasy, but there were horror writers, nonfiction writers, romance writers, and authors of children's books. And unsurprisingly, given the setting, many of them write for the gaming industry: games themselves, game-related novels, game background material (known as fluff, by the way), and so on. But when it came to setting the program, Marc didn't segregate us by genre or style or anything like that. Which was absolutely right.

When it came down to it, no matter what writers write, we're more alike than we are different.

We all worry about pacing, writer's block, cover designs, marketing, foreshadowing, structure, dialog, interactions with editors and fans, that all-important first page. Sure, there are some genre-specific issues: mysteries tend to start with a murder, for instance, and romances usually have happy endings. But overall, we writers all have the same sets of concerns and issues. That's kind of wonderful. It's reassuring to know that while my writing may be solitary, there are bunches of other writers struggling with the same problems I am. Sometimes their solutions work for me, and vice versa, but even when they don't, it's good to not feel alone.

So even though our books are shelved far apart at the bookstore, when it comes to the work, we writers are all part of the same tribe.


FYI: Gen Con--and the Writers Symposium--happen every year. The next show will be August 2 through 5, 2018, back in Indianapolis, Indiana. And the city loves Gen Con!

The Tuesday Chat...What we're reading--and writing!

Happy Tuesday, Femmes! Can you believe summer is almost ov…okay, we won’t say it. Hank’s in Massachusetts, Laura in Colorado, and Catriona in California (which sounds like some kind of double dactyl or something)—and we figured it was time to catch up!

What book is on the top of your on nightstand pile?

Hank: Jessica Strawser's ALMOST MISSED YOU. Loving it! The pile is monumental, though. Ree-diculous.

Laura: I'm currently reading MAGPIE MURDERS, largely based on recommendations from Jungle Reds regulars. I have to admit that I am so far underwhelmed, but I have faith that it will have an amazing twist or some such to justify the raves from people I respect.

Hank: Oh, I loved it! Interesting. Eager to hear.

Catriona: Ha! I like the way you ask about the top book on the tottering pile. You know us. It's ED’S DEAD by Russel McLean. He's moderating me on a panel at Bloody Scotland in a couple of weeks and I'm reading back (so if he asks me a tough question I can meet fire with fire).

What manuscript-in-progress is in your computer?

Laura: The manuscript in progress is a women's fic novel called The Queens of Hart's Landing. It’s about an Alabama town obsessed with beauty pageants the way small towns in Texas are gaga over high school football. It's about three women who were major pageant winners in different decades and how that's affected their lives since.

Catriona: None! Zip. Rien. Nada. I'm on summer break with one book handed in and another first draft finished and waiting for my return. It's a weird feeling.

Hank . Ahhh....well, it'd be another standalone, and more I cannot say. Until, possibly, maybe, later this week or two. Maybe. Please cross fingers.

Which of your books is newest on bookstore shelves?

Catriona: The Reek of Red Herrings (US) and A Spot of Toil and Trouble (UK). Both Dandy Gilver stories. One is about fisherfolk and one is about Shakespeare. No prizes for guessing.

Hank: SAY NO MORE is about come out in paperback! Very exciting. Everyone still reads paperbacks, right?

(Catriona: I do.

Hank: Whew.)

Laura: CLOSE CALL came out last September.

Anything new about that? ( Did you get a great review or an award nomination or a pat on the back from someone or anything like that?)

Hank: Well, yeah! SAY NO MORE is an Agatha, Daphne and Mary Higgins Clark award nominee--and a Library Journal Best of 2016. (Just saying. In case you want to pre-order.) AND it includes a special, first-time preview of...well, it's a surprise.

Laura: CLOSE CALL was a Top Five mystery of the year pick by Library Journal. Not surprisingly, that made me very happy! The kudos for your book, Hank, were so well-deserved. It's my fave of yours to date.

Hank: Aw, thank you!

Catriona: I got a newspaper review for A Spot of Toil and Trouble that made me smile - "unfashionably civilised fiction". :The Reek of Red Herrings is up for a Macavity Award at Bouchercon. It's won an Agatha and a Lefty this year already. A hat trick would be very nice indeed.

Which of your books is next to come into the world?

Laura: In just a couple of weeks, on Sep 8, THAT LAST WEEKEND comes out. It has kind of a gothic feel with secrets from the past, a castle B&B imported stone by stone from France, and five women friends who have endured tragedy and now must solve a murder in order to move ahead with their friendships. Pre-order now to have it the day it comes out.

Hank: That sounds terrific. (And I already pre-ordered, of course. Here’s the link.)

Catriona: How timely! The Weight of Angels (UK)/ House.Tree.Person (US) - same book; don't buy both - is just about to hit the shelves on the 24th of August / 8th of September.

Hank: Okay, so here's the surprise. TRUST ME, my first standalone, a psychological thriller, will be out in 2018. And the first three chapters are in the Say No More paperback!

Catriona: Oh, man. I can't wait for that!

(Hank: Thank you! Can I send it to you? And you, too, Laura? Asking for a friend.)

Your next book--How do you feel about that?

Catriona: I'll tell you how Karin Slaughter feels instead. She feels that it's "unnerving and suspenseful" and my "best yet". So I feel pretty chuffed. Those cover quotes from grown-up writers really do help when you send a book out into the woods with a basket of treats for Grandmama.

Hank: Freaking out. Thrilled. I love this book. And I cannot cannot cannot wait to hear what you think. It is still me, very me, but very different. Mercer Hennessey, a free-lance writer, is writing a true crime novel about a murder trial, and...more I cannot say.

Laura: I'm always excited when a book comes out. Even after 21 books, it never gets old.

Are you working on something that will come after that? What is it?

Hank: Yes. Yes, Many many words written, but all in my head. And another Jane Ryland book is under contract, so that is brewing, too.

Laura: I'm always excited when a book comes out. Even after 21 books, it never gets old.

Catriona: Sort of. There's that first draft waiting for me . . . does it have a title yet? I can't remember if I thought up something to put on the first page before I printed it. Yes, I did. A Bible quote, I think. Now ask me which one . . . The Bible is even worse than Hamlet for being full of quotes, right?

Can you believe how lucky we are?

Hank: I think of it every day. EVERY day. When I have a good idea, or figure out a sentence, when I talk with a good pal, or meet a happy reader, or just sit at my computer and cannot believe I get to be an author.

Laura: Lucky, lucky, lucky. Like Hank, I think about it daily. Okay, almost every day. Having spent this past weekend in NYC, teaching at the Writer's Digest conference, seeing Hank and Hallie Ephron and other writing friends, talking writing and books with other people who think they're important--I am blessed and very conscious of it.

Catriona: Ha. No. I've got a character in The Weight of Angels/House.Tree. Person who inherited a fish and chip shop. As part of the publicity I'm writing a newspaper article about Scotties chippies (as they're affectionately known). So guess what my research for the article has been? Yep.

Hank: Wow. Eating fish and chips for research. Catriona, you’ve got this writing thing nailed.

Femmes, how would you answer anyone of the above questions? Reading, writing, appreciating? And happy Tuesday!