Author Archives: Murderati

Who To Query?

By Louise Ure

This month I’m all about query letters here at Murderati. For the first installment, check out this post from two weeks ago about how to craft a query letter. The question for today is: Now what do I do with it?

First of all, take a deep breath. You’re about to embark on perhaps the most fraught-filled leg of the journey to publication. You’re opening yourself up to criticism far beyond any of the yammerings of your writer’s group and you need to steel yourself.

Start here: The simple answer to the question is, you send your query letter to agents who are most likely to be responsive to your work.

That means they’re agents who deal in your genre, who are looking for new clients to add to their roster, who are passionate about your work, and who you believe have the clout and the contacts to make you an advantageous sale.

But how do you find them?

If you’re like me, you had no education or grounding in the publishing business before you started to write. I’d never met a living author (was there even such a thing?) until I started writing my own books. I had certainly never met an agent.

The good news is that the information is out there and easily available – online, in libraries and bookstores, and in person.

– Try Agent Query for the addresses, phone numbers, and email addresses of reputable literary agents, plus additional information, including an agent’s previous publishing experience, education, former agency affiliations, former agency address, titles sold, past and present clients, genres and special interests.

– Or Query Tracker which includes a neat program to track all your queries then pool the results to provide aggregate information on an agent’s genre-specific acceptance/rejection history and response time.

– Try Preditors & Editors, Writer Beware and Absolute Write for the “Worst 20” lists and alerts to agent scams.

– Most literary agents have their own websites now, including information about recent sales, client lists and policies.

– You can also check them out with the national organization, The Association of Authors’ Representatives, Inc.

– A couple of good print versions of the information are: Chuck Sambuchino’s, 2009 Guide to Literary Agents or Jeff Herman’s (brand new as of November 11, 2008) Guide to Book Publishers, Editors & Literary Agents 2009. I particularly love the Jeff Herman book.

– You could subscribe to Publisher’s Marketplace, an industry newsletter which announces deals, sales, reviews, and which agents are selling work. Online subscription is $20.00 a month, but it’s a month-by-month contract so you shouldn’t have to fork out much to get enough information to get you started. And pay special attention to the page where they talk about which agent has moved to a new house or started their own agency. Those are the ones most interesting in building new client lists.

– Check out the acknowledgements page in published novels. Most authors include thanks to their agents and editors.

– Join Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Romance Writers of America, or International Thriller Writers. Even if you don’t live in a big city, you can participate in Internet Chapters of the organizations or build relationships with member-authors by email. Ask them who their agents are and how they like working with them.

– Go to conferences. Even the fan-based cons like Bouchercon have lots of agents in attendance and lots of authors you can talk to about their agents. And the smaller, writer-oriented conferences can be superb opportunities not just to hear about an agent but to spend time with one.

Some miscellaneous but equally important advice:

Start with a list of 50 potential agents and send out ten at a time, starting with your “All Star” favorites.

There’s no magic number of agents to query and no assumption of how long it should take. Plan on sending out 1-100 letters over the course of a month to a year.

If you haven’t heard from an agent you’ve queried in a month, go on to the next on your list.

Do include some agents on your list who say they are not accepting unsolicited manuscripts. Believe me, they’re still reading all query letters and yours might just meet something they’re looking for.

Don’t bother with Fedex or overnight delivery of your query or sample pages. It makes no impression on the agent, other than to think you waste money.

If an agent asks for exclusivity – personally, I’m against giving it, but it’s up to you – limit the time for the exclusive review. Four to six weeks at most.

Avoid literary agents who charge a reading fee. The professional ones would never ask you for it and the unprofessional are not the ones you want representing your book.

Don’t pay for a “customized list of agents” based on reading your work. I know there are lots of internet offers out there for services like this, but honest to God, aren’t you the best person to know what your work is like? It’s like asking someone with an online Baby Book to name your child.

Save all your rejection letters. First of all, they’re nice to look back on when you’re happily published. In the meantime, they might teach you something. Is there an overriding theme in the rejections? If their criticism rings true to your ears, you may want to take another look at your novel. Are they all form letters? Maybe your query letter needs a tune up to more clearly demonstrate your style or the uniqueness of your story.

Remind yourself that rejection is not personal; that if an agent didn’t love the sound of your book then she probably wouldn’t have been a passionate advocate for it.

Reward yourself at every step along the way. For having the guts to send out a query in the first place. For sending out ten more. For getting a request for a partial. For getting a request for the full manuscript. Hell, reward yourself for reaching the milestone of 21 rejections. Or 50. Or 100.

Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

I know that several of our ‘Rati members got their agents through other, less traditional, means, so there are undoubtedly other sources, tricks and tips that I’m not thinking of here. What say you, ‘Rati? Any other good advice? Or do you want to share the worst rejection letter you ever got?

And now a word from a reader

I met Lee Kelley via email nearly five years ago. She'd read The Clovis Incident and loved it. Next thing I knew, my book had been reviewed in the Vroman's newsletter. For the uninitiated, Vroman's is Southern California's largest independent bookstore. It's a glorious place.

Since then, I've had the pleasure of corresponding with Lee and even meeting her in person. She's one of the unsung heroes in our mystery community. An active supporter who works at a general bookstore, but isn't an employed book seller per se.

I asked her to write a little something about mysteries and herself because I suspect there are a lot of people like Lee (though none exactly like her of course!) who give to our community daily though we may never be fortunate enough to know their names.

Have a blessed Monday,

Pari

———————————————————————————————

Thank you, Pari, for inviting me to Murderati! As the current gatherer of mystery tales for The Scene of the Crime email newsletter for Vroman's bookstore in Pasadena, I can't think of a better place to be.

Actually I work in the accounting office, but because I'm such an avid reader, I've been happy to review books for the mystery newsletter for seven years. Recently, due to staff changes, I've assumed a much larger role in the production of this genre-specific publication which is separate from the store's more extensive newsletter.

Generally, I comment on and recommend books that are extremely current, time-wise, with the printing of the newsletter, but am considering a corner for books that I reviewed in the past that remain on our shelves today. I hope the store lets me do that because it's another way to push authors and their endeavors.

A little about me: I started reading at age two and never looked back. In grade school I devoured all the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew stories. I read my first "adult" mystery when I was around fifteen or so. It was The Moonstone by the English author Wilkie Collins and was published in 1868. Many people consider it to be the precursor to the "modern" detective story. I was entralled with it and pretty soon was reading every mystery I could get my hands on.

As I got older my tastes changed. Now I read everything from classics to westerns, from fantasy to mystery. Though my favorite genre is science fiction, I continue to supplement my craving for good literature with mysteries.

Naturally Pari is one of my favorite authors; I've lived in New Mexico and can see the places she writes about. I also am a major fan of Tony Hillerman and he will certainly be missed. Dick Francis is another favorite.

I particularly like psychological mysteries. The workings of the mind have always fascinated me. It's true that often in this kind of mystery you know who the perp is. As far as I'm concerned that doesn't take away from the pleasure of the book because then the fun of reading becomes following the protagonist and shouting, "No, you idiot! It's the other guy!"

In mysteries, modi operandi and motives frequently seem familiar, but it always amazes me how an author can make them seem fresh. I think what makes the difference is the characters. If the writer truly knows the characters and environment, then the scenarios become new. Sure, there may be murder and mayhem in every story, but because the characters are unique, so is the tale.

Reading mysteries satisfies the need-to-know gene in me. What really happened? Where did that come from? How was that done? And why, in the name of all that's obvious, can't that detective figure out what's going on?

Well, it's probably because he's not as smart as we are — we, the readers — who devour the book and sort the clues from the comfort of our chairs as we immerse ourselves in the world of the author.

Cowboys want to die with their books on.

I'd like to pass on with a book in my hands.

****************************************************************************************************************

Thank you, Lee.

HEY!!!! If readers, writers, booksellers, agents, editors and publishers aren't enough to make you thankful this holiday season, I've got another bit to brighten your day:

Cornelia Read will be joining Murderati beginning Saturday, December 6. She and our marvelous Alex Sokoloff will alternate posts weekly. Join me in giving her a big 'Rati welcome!

comfort reading

by Toni McGee Causey

Somewhere, there is a woman, sitting in a room, three days past a rape. Her bruises are turning purple and in a few more days, they're going to be that greenish hue of ghouls. She hasn't looked in a mirror, yet, but the swelling is starting to abate, and she can open her jaw without the execrable pain. The screaming is almost entirely in her head, now. The stitches hurting her remind her she's alive and she's not really sure why people keep telling her that, as if that's a good thing. She's not sure she wants to be. There's been just enough time to get past the initial shock, the stunned chaotic business of having lost any sense of strength in the face of the world. She has had just enough time to be processed, and there should be a stamp for her forehead: file # 56449A221.

Oh, people have been caring. They have been very professionally caring. All of the people, scads of them. They have been very careful not to touch her or move too fast. Everyone is diligent about addressing her respectfully, using her name, always making sure she feels like an individual. She can see it, see in their eyes how she is now different. The opposite of the person on the other side of the desk, where there are things like strength and weapons and confidence.

And right now, she is finally alone, though the moat around her has turned into an ocean, and the screaming, it just keeps on coming. For a few minutes, not having to deal with anyone else is good. A relief. But then there is the silence, and in the silence, it all happens again. She cannot close her eyes, because it's all happening. Again. She cannot talk to someone, because the screaming will break free. Or the tears. Either may kill her.

She needs. Needs. To be somewhere else, other than here. Other than this thing she's become. Needs to be able to step outside of her skin for a little while. Maybe a long long time.

She's going to go to her bookcase and pick up something. Maybe it's something where the woman kicks someone's ass. Maybe it's one where the good guy wins. Or the DA is brilliant. Or the girl comes of age and has confidence. Whatever it is, she gets to step outside of the bruises and the cuts and the broken bones for a little while. She gets to live a different ending. A different beginning. Have a safe place to be. And somehow, maybe, have a little hope that this thing, too, will pass.

Write a story for her.

~*~

Somewhere, there is a man, sitting in a hospital room. His wife has cancer, and he's been there, every day, before and after work. Except now, he can be there full-time, since he's lost his job. He's spent days seeking help, trying to find a way to keep her there, to make sure she has the care she needs, when all of his benefits are gone. He's filled out more paperwork in this one week than he's done in a lifetime, and only barely understands half of what they've told him, if that.

He'll try to get a second mortgage for the house. Sell off the second car, trade his in for something cheaper. The savings–such as it is, there's not much with two kids–is gone. The retirement will go next, and that might last a month, at this rate. They don't qualify yet for any sort of Medicare or help. His sister is at his house, boxing up stuff to sell. Doing it while the kids are at school, so they don't see.

The screaming is almost entirely in his head, now. The anger, the rage, the helplessness. His wife's asleep, and sleep is so rare with the pain she's in, he can't risk turning on the TV. She's been in too much pain for him to leave the room, though.

He's lost. He sees it in the eyes of the nurses, sees it in the eyes of the administrator. The woman running the accounts payable office. He's become this other thing, this person he doesn't know, and right now, for a little while, he needs. Needs. To be somewhere else but here. Someone else but him.

He'll slump down in the God-awful chair they have in the room, punching a pillow that one of the orderlies found for him, and he'll crack open that favorite paperback he grabbed on his way out the house this morning. For a little while, he gets to be a hero. He gets to fight crime or solve problems, save the world or save the girl. For a little while, he gets to have hope.

Write a story for him.

~*~

A lot of people in the industry are scared right now–things look bleak. If you're pushing through NaNoWriMo or that draft on deadline or beginning a new project, you may be at that part of the process where you're feeling exhausted–or scared to begin. Writer fatigue and fear are hard to combat in the face of a lot of bad news, and especially hard to slug it out when it looks like the possibility of selling is dwindling to nothing.

And this, ironically, is when we need story the most.

Story-telling has been around for millennia for a reason–we need to connect. We need to both transport somewhere other than our own daily circumstances and to connect to others, to know that someone out there understands us. Understands our fears, our desires. We need to escape, without physically abandoning our family and friends. Stories do that. We need the hope, the connection, the dream.

Write a story for us.

~*~

Tell me about a book that you read during a bad time, something that–for whatever reason, be it light or serious–just got you through the day.

The anti-food post

by Alexandra Sokoloff

The eating season is upon us.
Deck the halls with lots of calories. My favorite blogs, usually so rich
with information about writing or politics or sex, have suddenly started
posting recipes. Fa la lala – feh.

I
hate that part of this season.

Food
makes me uncomfortable. Oh,
I’ve dined in some of the world’s best restaurants, I can appreciate a
five-star meal, I know the difference between great food and merely tolerable. A well-crafted piece of sushi can
give me just as many orgasms as the next person.

But
honestly, when it comes to eating, I’d really just rather – not.

Now,
this is a combination of things.
You grow up in California and chances are, if you’re a girl, a typical meal is
a steamed artichoke, a cube of tofu, and a six-hour workout afterward.   You grow up in California as a
dancer, and you can lose the tofu in the above equation.   There’s a highly-sought after
acting coach in L.A. who starts all his classes with the admonition: “Wanna be a professional actor? Then you can’t eat.”

I’m
a perfectly healthy eater now, and I guarantee I know more about food combining, amino acids, and
getting the optimal protein out of a meal than anyone here. I’m also just healthy in general,
thank God. But when I was
younger I spiraled through every eating disorder on the books.

And
I wasn’t alone. When I was at
Berkeley, you couldn’t go into a women’s restroom without smelling vomit.

Oh,
TMI for some of you?   But I
thought we were writers, here.
There’s no such thing as TMI for a writer, right? TMI is pretty much our job
description. And eating disorders
are a serious problem for far too many girls in our culture, and increasingly,
boys as well.   If you’ve
written, say, a couple dozen characters in your writing career so far, and you
haven’t written a character who has a problem with food, or weight, you’re
probably not being very realistic.
Think about it.

I
never write a female character without considering what her relationship is
with food and weight and body image. It may never come to the fore in a
particular story, but it’s as much a part of building a character for me as
family dynamics, birth order, all those things we routinely factor into
characterization.

I
mean, please, have you ever met a woman for whom food and weight WASN’T an
issue? Think about THAT.

So
I’m here to tell you what I know.

When
I was at Berkeley girls in the dance department taught each other how to puke;
it was part of the curriculum. If
you were overweight, you were warned, and if you didn’t lose the weight, you
were bounced from the program.
Period.   That’s the
job.   And I doubt all that
vomit was coming just from the dance department.   There were a few sororities at Berkeley, too,
marginalized and mocked though they were.   And a lot of women, in general.

But
throwing up is just hard, and after a bout with it I just learned not to eat
much. Dieting starts as a
chore, it grows into an obsession, and then it just starts to feel like life. It feels GOOD.

That's something I don't often hear discussed. We hear about anorexia being a control issue, and a self-esteem issue, but I think it's more of an addiction issue.

I’ve
never been so anorexic that I’ve threatened my health or lifestyle. But I've been a dancer for a long
time and also have taught dance, and in case you haven’t picked up the National
Enquirer lately, for dancers, and actresses, and maybe every celebrity, anorexia is a pervasive problem. I've had
to pull students aside and have THE TALK with them, and I've been pulled aside
by my teachers, myself, because of my occasional flirtations with
"Ana". The thing people don't talk about is that anorexia FEELS good. You're constantly high as a kite
from endorphins produced by starving yourself and you don't want that feeling
to go away. You feel light and happy and in control. Then it starts to mess
with your mind and you get convinced you're LOOKING as good as you feel, even though your
bones are starting to show.

In
fact, I think it's useless to try to treat the issue without acknowledging the
pleasure aspect of it. (And
there’s a whole book about the addictive spiritual aspect of anorexia – Holy
Anorexia. It’s a rush of endorphins probably
not unlike heroin.)

There’s
a great article on the issue here, Addiction and the Eating Disorders, that also says that
food restriction reduces anxiety – and I myself can attest to that.

But
anorexia affects more than just dancers and actresses. Girls binge and purge, they
starve themselves, they work out compulsively, or they overeat themselves into
obesity and social oblivion.

The
alarming rise in the use of steroids by teenage and younger boys has been
linked to a male version of body dysmorphia too.

Eating
disorders are often linked to sexual abuse traumas. It’s not necessarily a cause, but often so related that if
you’re building a character, that’s something to look at.

Maybe
I’m just being perverse, the devil’s advocate, with this compulsion to shine a
light on the darker side of what for so many people is a holiday pleasure, the
ritual gorging…

But
what pleasure really is there in being so obese you have to book two airline
seats if you want to travel?

What
pleasure is there in eating if you’re compelled to throw it all up afterward,
or starve yourself for weeks, or work out to the point of injury?

Myself,
I’d rather be able to button my pants the day after Thanksgiving, and I don’t
think that’s because of any mental condition. It just FEELS better.

There's a little more to all this eating than comfort and joy, is what I'm saying.

And
lest you think I’m overlooking the obvious irony – I’m very well aware that
this is what people call a problem of success. Our culture is so abundant that instead of being worried
about starvation and malnutrition, we are burdened with the increasing health
problems caused by obesity and eating disorders.

So
what about you all – honestly? Do
you ever think about your characters’ relationships to food and weight and
appearance when you’re writing?
Do you yourself take unmitigated pleasure in your food, or do you have
“issues”? Have you never given a
second’s thought to weight or appearance?

Or
is there maybe a flip side to the holiday eating orgy for you as well?

A Colorado Yankee in King Arthur’s Court

by JT Ellison

I have always been a fan of books and legends surrounding King Arthur.

He doesn’t exist, not really. He’s a legend, probably based in truth, but with nor primary source material to prove that anything we know about him is true.

Favorite King Arthur books
How can we as a culture embrace a legend so fully that it become part of the vernacular?
Vampires and werewolves count?

Everything’s a Blur

By Brett Battles

Those of you who had been following along with my Facebook status will already know this, but Monday I went in for laser eye surgery. There are two main types. The one most people are familiar with is Lasek. Not to gross you out or anything, but this procedure involves cutting a flap on your eye, then doing the laser work underneath. The second method is called PRK (Photorefractive keratectomy), in which the flap is not created but the “pithelium removed is discarded and allowed to regenerate” (Wikipedia).

The reason Lasek is most popular is that within 24hours you’re usually ready to go. See, by cutting the flap you’re tricking the eye into thinking nothing is wrong, and nothing major has been done. So as long as you don’t rub your eye that first night while you’re sleeping (they give you goggles to wear to prevent this), then everything should be fine.

With PRK it’s different. Because the assault (because what else can you call it) happens in full “view” of the eye, it suddenly goes into defense mode. That means recovery time is longer. Approximately four days, so they tell me…(my forth day won’t be until Friday.)

That’s right, I got the PRK version. Why? Well, apparently my corneas were just a little thinner than normal. When that happens, the success rate of the regular Lasek procedure decreases…not by a terribly large amount, but by enough that the doctors recommended using PRK. Strongly.

Fine, I thought. At least I work at home so taking the extra time off won’t be the end of the world. I was told I wouldn’t be able to drive for a few days, and that the full effects of my correction wouldn’t settle in for a month (apparently that’s what they tell Lasek folks too, but I hear it never takes that long.)

So Monday morning my girlfriend drives me to the clinic and I go under the laser. Really, it’s a quick procedure. I was in and out of the office in 60 minutes, and really, each eye took under a minute beneath the laser. As soon as they were done, they put protective contacts over my eyes to act like bandages, and told me I should have an increased sensitivity to light for a little while.

So off I went, and BOY was the world bright. I don’t mean just a little bright, I mean surface of the sun bright. (Here it is two days later and I’m typing this in a darkened room wearing my sunglasses. Which actually aren’t needed much as most of the time I’m typing with my eyes closed, and when their open, the screen is blurry.)

An interesting thing I noticed, though, as we drove back to my place. Things that were close to me were now in sharp focus. In other words my reading vision was fantastic. It was just distant things which were still blobs. (I’m told my vision will remain blurry until the end of the week.) Still, having this small victory was enough to excite me!

That first day progressed fine…lounged around, took a long nap, even read some of THE FOURTH WATCHER by Tim Hallinan. Then at around 7:30 that evening, minutes before my girlfriend was to pick me up because we were going to go look at a few potential places she was thinking of buying, the contact in my left eye popped out. Crap.

If I remembered the instructions I’d been given, I was to not worry too much about it and throw it away. So I did, then got in the car to go. The next two hours were two of the most uncomfortable of my life. My left eye felt like it had twenty eyelashes under the lid scratching and cutting my iris. I put as much lubricant as possible in there, but it still went on. I was a bit of an idiot because I’d been given some numbing drops that would have helped a hell of a lot (and did later), but had left them at home. Still I soldiered on, opening my eyes up long enough to get a quick view of the properties, then retreating into a fetal position as we drove to the next place. My poor girlfriend, all she wanted to do was drive me home. She even thought I should probably call the clinic. But NO…me macho man…me say it’s no problem. Me say, since we are in the area already, let’s continue to look. Me a big, stupid idiot.

That night dosed my eye with the numbing drops and took one of the sleeping pills the clinic had provided, knowing I had a follow up visit the next day so could get the situation solved then.

But first, boys and girls, before my appointment at the eye clinic on Tuesday, I had an appointment to get my teeth cleaned at my dentist in the morning. So imagine me sitting back in the dentist chair, my left eye liberally coated with numbing drops and both eyes covered by sunglasses, AND the dental hygienist leaning over me and digging around my gums. My girlfriend says I have a high tolerance for pain, but come on, this was ridiculous!

Any way, 1 p.m. finally rolls around and I’m back in the eye clinic. “So how are you doing?” the clinical tech asks. “Well, my left contact fell out last night.” “Last night? Did you call our office?” Ugh…no, I was too manly, man to call. “Ah, no. I didn’t.” “Come on back, we’ll get you fixed up.”

Ten minutes later, a new contact in place, it was like I was a new man again. Today is even better. Though, as I’ve mentioned the light sensitivity is still there, but if I gradually brighten things, I can usually go outside after a while.

What’s any of this got to do with writing? Like the laser that reshapes an eye that works but could be better, a great editor does the same for a manuscript. Because no matter who we are, there are just some changes we can’t see without help.

HA! See, tied that one in nicely.

So let’s hear your medical stories…but nothing too gross, I prefer the funny ones that have a happier ending. So if you die in your story, please save it for someplace else.

OH…and because I can barely read the screen because of the brightness…there are probably even more typos than my usual post. I ask your forgiveness.

HEY…If you’re interested in taken a look at the cover to my new book (out next July)…click here…

______________________________________________

Today’s song: I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW by Johnny Nash

Sometimers

by Rob Gregory Browne

Okay. If you’re like me and you’ve gotten to a certain age, then you know what’s it’s like to get up from your desk, walk toward the kitchen intending to grab, say, an orange, only to get to the kitchen doorway and realize that you’ve forgotten why the hell you went there.

You know you’re there for a reason, but you can’t for the life of you remember what it was. So, you mumble to yourself, "Friggin’ idiot," and walk back toward your office.

Only halfway there, you suddenly remember what it was you wanted, so you do a quick one-eighty, head back to the kitchen —

— only to forget again.

This happens to me more often than I’d like to admit. And, yes, it’s true, I smoked a lot of pot when I was younger.

I don’t think it’s the pot, however. Just age. And I know people a decade younger than me (who never smoked a joint in their life) who have the same problem.

It’s scary, to say the least. I start thinking Alzheimer’s. A friend of mine calls it Sometimers.

But then Dr. Dean once described Alzheimer’s as not forgetting where you parked your car, but forgetting where you parked your car when you don’t have one.

When I was trying to come up with ideas for a blog post tonight, I decided to go the random route. Come up with two or three topics to discuss briefly. My wife was listening to me spitball these topics and I came up with a couple that I thought might be interesting.

Okay, not necessarily interesting. But I’m on a crazy close deadline for the new book and my mind is in a different place. So the topics were passable. Something to throw out to the group and let you guys have at it.

Anyway, five minutes and half a conversation later, I couldn’t remember one of the topics I’d decided on. Strained the brain trying to remember, but just couldn’t do it.

And guess what? Neither could my wife.

What the hell?

Fortunately, she did remember a few moments later and told me what it was.

I often worry, however, that such things are carrying over into my work. There will be times that I’m driving and I’m mulling over the new book and all of these wonderful ideas are bouncing around inside my head and I’m thinking, damn, I wish I had my digital recorder because I’d really like to get some of this down.

And of course, by the time I get back to my office, I’ve forgotten half of what it was that had gotten me so excited.

But then maybe that’s as it should be. A lot of stuff I think about as I’m driving is really useless garbage that just needs to be tossed out of the brain. A cleansing, of sorts. And whatever remains behind is the stuff I’ll actually use.

Paul Schrader, the writer of Taxi Driver, once said that he never writes an idea down when it first comes to him, because he figures that if it doesn’t stick, it isn’t worth remembering.

I can pretty much guarantee that I’ve forgotten more ideas than I’ve remembered. Some of them I even wrote down, only to discover them, years later, on some wrinkled piece of paper. And guess what? They truly, truly sucked.

What’s disconcerting, however, is when I find the beginning of a story I wrote a few years back and I cannot for the life of me remember writing it. It seems to have been written by someone else entirely, and while I recognize the handwriting or the typical way I arrange my sentences and paragraphs, I do not recognize it as my work.

As William Allman said, "The brain is a monstrous, beautiful mess."

And I certainly agree with… uh…

What was I about to say?

I suddenly have the sinking feeling that I’ve written about this very same subject in an earlier Murderati post.

Oh, well.

—

Now on to those two not so spectacular topics:

1. In response to Allison’s recent post, I never look at the numbers. I don’t think about bestseller lists. I don’t WANT to know the numbers. In fact, the only numbers I DO want to know are the numbers on the checks my publishers send me. And as long as they keep sending them, I’ll be a happy man.

The reason I don’t want to know the numbers? Because they’ll color my work. If the numbers are bad, I’ll freak out and try to tailor my work for "the marketplace." I’ll start writing vampire stories because vampire stories are hot and surely that’s gotta bring those numbers up.

If the numbers are really good, I’ll get a false sense of confidence and either lose all perspective about the work, or I’ll keep writing the same crap over and over again because I know it’s what works. That might make my publisher happy, but it certainly won’t make me happy.

Instead, I ignore the numbers and write what I want to read — and hope that others will want to read it as well. This, obviously, is my own little quirk and does not apply to others.

2. Speaking of writing. What the hell am I doing wrong?

I’m in the middle of reading the latest book by one of my favorite authors and I have to say that I’m truly enjoying it. But I’m three-quarters of the way through and, frankly, NOTHING HAS REALLY HAPPENED.

I’m on page three-hundred-whatever, and the hero has engaged and amused me — and the writing is superb — but I can’t help thinking that by the time I’ve reached this point in one of my own books, A WHOLE HELLUVA LOT OF STUFF HAS HAPPENED.

Is that a problem? Should I start cutting back on the plot twists? Should I slow the pace down?

After all, this guy seems to know what he’s doing. And AGAIN, I’m really enjoying this book. So what gives?

—

Okay, that’s all I’ve got. I’m done with you. Spent.

Now it’s back to the new manuscript to once again try to remember how I was planning to end that new chapter.

Curiosity and the writer

by Tess Gerritsen

I’m often asked, "What kind of person becomes a novelist?" People want to know what we writers have in common, and whether there are special characteristics that make a writer successful. I give the same answers everyone else probably does: A fertile imagination. A love of reading. Sheer persistence. But I also throw in one more characteristic that others may forget to mention, yet it’s one that I consider vital to the craft of storytelling: Insatiable curiosity.

If writers were cats, we’d all be dead.

When story ideas come to me, it’s seldom because I actively went looking for them. More often, they arise out of some interest that’s completely separate from my job as a writer. Or I come across an odd little fact or news item that inspires my curiosity and compels me to find out more, simply because I can’t help myself.

Years ago, I read an article about a newly discovered class of organisms called "Archaeons," single-celled creatures so ancient that they probably split off from the larger tree of life at the same time that bacteria did. They’re sometimes called "extremophiles" because of the hostile conditions in which they thrive, such as in the superheated waters of underwater volcanic vents. Although I couldn’t see how I would ever use the information in a book, I was so fascinated by these bizarre organisms that I collected a number of clippings about them from various science journals. They went into my file of "creepy facts", which I’ve maintained for decades. 99 percent of the information in that file will probably never find its way into a novel; I keep it around just because I’m a weird gal and happen to love creepy facts.

Some years later, news broke of an accident aboard Mir space station. The circumstances were so scary and dramatic that I knew I had to write about it. I imagined an accident in space, with dying astronauts trapped aboard a space station. But what would be the circumstances? Why wouldn’t they just evacuate and come home? What could keep them quarantined aboard a doomed spacecraft?

That’s when I remembered my old clippings about the Archaeons, which are capable of surviving in almost any environment. And it occurred to me: what if scientists discovered a sample of such organisms at the bottom of the ocean, trapped there by crushing pressures for thousands of years? What if such organisms weren’t from earth at all, but had landed here aboard an asteroid?

What if they were actually an advance army of invaders, here to colonize the earth? Sent up to orbit by scientists and exposed to the microgravity of a space station, they would begin to assume their real form –a form that’s deadly to the human race.

That became the premise of my book GRAVITY.

I never could have written that book if I hadn’t delved into the oddities of Archaeons a few years earlier. And it was curiosity that made me do it.

Curiosity can take you places you never expected to go. It makes you turn over rocks and poke sticks in holes and peek behind closed doors. It may never lead to a story idea, but so what? Life is about more than writing books. It’s also about the thrill of discovering some delicious fact that has absolutely no relevance in your life.

But sometimes, sometimes, an obscure fact will come in useful. It may not be until years have passed, but that’s the thing about curiosity. It’s a long-term investment.

By the time you read this blog post, I will be winging my my way home from Egypt. At the moment, my suitcase is lying half-packed on my bedroom floor, awaiting the sunscreen and bug spray. I’m going to Egypt to learn to read hieroglyphs. It’s an utterly irrelevant skill, and I don’t think I’ll ever use it in a book. But I’m curious about ancient dead languages, in the same way I was curious about those humble little Archaeons.

Knowledge is never wasted. Sometimes it just takes a lifetime to figure out how to use it.

I can’t believe you

Pari

Here’s a phrase that gives me hives, gets my panties in a wad:

I can’t suspend my disbelief.

Usually when I hear someone use this — or one of its many iterations — they’re referring to traditional mysteries featuring amateur sleuths. So, of course, I’m irritated. To me, people often lob those five words to intentionally render one of my chosen genres worthless. Why wouldn’t I be irked?

But I’m not interested in self-analysis today, in my own petty responses and visions of revenge. No.
I want to go deeper.

You see, I think all fiction requires — at its very foundation — a suspension of disbelief.

That’s precisely why I read it.

I happen to enjoy escape. Tony Hillerman referred to his works as entertainments. That’s one heck of a noble goal. Let me tell you, if a book can pull me away from thinking about the economy or brutal crime or global warming, well, I’m grateful.

We’ve all seen the rise of the thriller, of one man or woman taking on evildoers in a world filled with creepy conspiracies. These individuals routinely end up saving the planet. Do I believe that stuff? Nah. But it’s fun to read.

Are you going to tell me you’re certain there’s a wizarding school in England? That vampires exist? That werewolves make good detectives? That Dexter would be able to get away with his doings week after week and no one would notice?

Come on.

I can’t suspend my disbelief.

Sure you can. Everyone does it every single day. I was talking with my husband about this and he said, "Every person who has ever been married does it." Ha, ha. But he has a point: we willingly and constantly embrace personal and cultural myths.

And, guess what? They’re just that. Myths, fantasies, lies . . .

To me what matters is the internal coherence of a piece. I don’t really believe that Discworld exists, but it’s tremendously logical within its context. Sookie Stackhouse isn’t real, but I love her nonetheless. John Dortmunder and his crew wouldn’t be able to pull off those heists, but that doesn’t diminish my pleasure in reading about them.

If romance isn’t your cup of tea, admit it. If you can’t — or won’t — wrap your head around the idea that your sweet little next door neighbor is Super Sleuth. Fine. Don’t.

What gets my goose is that this phrase is often used as a universal condemnation. It’s as if by saying or writing it, the person is distancing his personal responsibility in the equation.

It’s Traditional Mystery’s fault that the speaker can’t suspend disbelief.
It’s Fantasy’s fault and Science Fiction’s fault.
It’s Fiction’s fault that the reader is incapable of enjoying the read.

That’s baloney.

Fess up to it. Be honest, please. It’s not the suspension of disbelief that’s getting you; it’s that you don’t like the basic concept. For whatever reason, you’re choosing to write off swaths of literature as being invalid because of your own biases.

That’s okay. We all have biases.

Just stop with the BS.

I think what gets me even more about
I can’t suspend my disbelief is that it’s as empty a phrase as a rejection from an editor that claims something isn’t compelling.

It’s just plain weasle-ly. And even though there’s nothing there, the words are like invisible viruses and carry power anyway.

I don’t know about you, but I resent the infection . . .

Okay, I’ll step off of my soapbox now.
1. Is there a common, but utterly empty phrase that drives you berserk?
2. Do you use I can’t suspend my disbelief and feel that it really does say something? (Convince me.)

Is the New York Times Biased?

By Allison Brennan

I had debated against writing this blog two weeks ago because I didn’t want it to come across as sour grapes. I actually wrote another blog for today, one about smart women in fiction vs. stereotyped femme fatales and bimbos. But as I was preparing my next “lesson” for the online group I’m teaching this month, I put together some statistics about bestseller lists and something jumped out at me. I may be making a few enemies, but at this point, I think someone needs to publicly talk about bestseller lists in general, and the New York Times in particular.

Nothing I say here is proof of anything. It’s just a comparison of the major bestseller lists for October 2007 and October 2008 and something in them that I think is odd. Coupled with the fact that the New York Times does not share how they compile their bestseller lists makes the whole process shadowy. We know, for example, that USA Today gets their numbers from very specific places, and we know that Walmart does not report to USA Today, for example. USA Today rankings most closely resemble the Bookscan numbers which is compiled from point-of-sale (POS) transactions weekly. Bookscan claims to track about 70-80% of all book purchases, and that may be true, but they certainly don’t track 70% of mass market sales. If you are a mass market author selling at Walmart, Bookscan reflects closer to 20-25% of your sales for the first quarter, and over a twelve month period maybe 35-40% of sales. Plus or minus. Because every author and distribution plan is unique.

In addition, different books and authors are released every month and every year so to do a proper analysis of the lists someone with more time and resources than me should pull together every list for the last three years with an algorithm to give an average % of books by genre that are released each month and when in the month. I’m sure some sharp statistician would know what to do; that would not be me.

I’m just looking at raw numbers. And I wasn’t going to write the article not just because of sour grapes, but because I know that publishing is fluid: there may be a glut of romance novels one month, and fewer the next month. But when I looked at the NYT, PW and USAT, something jumped out that made me think that I’m right. And JT’s “genre wars” rant got me thinking that if there was no genre designation, my theory wouldn’t hold any water because there’d be no genre designation in the files.

My theory?

The New York Times and Publishers Weekly use roughly the same formula for figuring out bestsellers, and that formula is biased against romance.

Playing Dead is my second bestselling title based on the first eight weeks of sales (Killing Fear is the first.) Playing Dead (10/08) sold more than twice as many copies opening week as Fear No Evil (4/07) which debuted at #10 on the New York Times list.

We all know that the month of release is hugely important: who is the competition? So to go up or down on the list is not a problem because one month might have a glut of bestsellers. For example, March 07 was a heavy-hitter month and I told my agent that if I was going to hit the print list, I had to do it with my Feb 07 book (Speak No Evil) because See No Evil in March had much more competition-both the number of releases and the heavy-hitter authors. Speak came out #14, See #20. And See had higher opening week numbers. So the ups and downs of the lists is no surprise to me and honestly doesn’t bother me: as long as my sales are doing well and my publisher is happy, I’m happy.

Walmart is hugely important for mass market authors. First, Walmart customers buy a lot of books, but because they are cost conscious, they buy mostly mass markets. Walmart offers very few hardcovers, and those on their shelves are the mega-sellers like King, Grisham, Roberts, Rowling, and Evanovich. Mass markets dominate their book aisle, discounted by a dollar or more. At some point at the end of 2007, Walmart stopped reporting sales to the New York Times. I don’t know if anyone knows why, but it happened and everyone in the business knows it. Around May of 2008, Walmart started reporting again.

But the lists were not the same.

The New York Times does not share with anyone how it compiles its bestseller lists. The general consensus is that they send out a list with pre-printed titles that are most likely to sell well. (How they come up with that list I have no idea.) They send it to a large sampling of booksellers and other retailers where books are a major item in the store. These people fill it out with sales information and return them. (This may be done online now-again, I have no idea . . . maybe a bookseller reader here knows more than I do?)

They do acknowledge that they adjust the numbers to represent a statistical sampling of all such stores.

I had always felt, as a mass market original author, that the NYT weighted their lists and gave more weight to books sold at independent stores than to books sold at mass merchandisers like Walmart. And that may very well be the case-we don’t know because they won’t say.

But whatever they did in the past, they changed it. In the past, the system may have been weighted slightly against romance novels, but since romance makes up 50% of mass market sales, and 39% of all fiction sales according to the RomStat report issued by Romance Writers of America we all know the genre is strong. (Note: The RWA research firm has changed and the last RomStat report is looking at other factors so there is no good comparison in numbers, though they reported that Romance is the leading fiction genre and is growing as a percent of market share even with the slowing economy.)

Playing Dead, which sold twice as many copies opening week as Fear No Evil eighteen months before, debuted at #26 on the NYT list and #37 on the USAT list. I could dismiss the poor NYT slot as being released in a competitive month (October.) And I would have, except that I’m really curious and did a comparison of publicly available information.

With the exception of my debut novel, The Prey, which had one week on the extended list, all my books have enjoyed 3-4 weeks on the NYT list. Until Playing Dead. It fell off after one week.

Week Two: Playing Dead was still in the Top 50 of USA Today (46), so I was optimistic that I’d stay on the NYT another week. Since USAT tracks point-of-sale I figured the book was doing well, even with the slight opening week drop from Killing Fear. (After all, our economy is in the tank.) But I fell off the list–and I’ll admit, I was surprised.

I think what really irked me is that the titles that bookended me on USAT (at numbers 45 and 47) were numbers 4 and 11 respectively on NYT. This was the first real clue that something wacky was going on. Full disclosure: #4 was a romance title that I know sells very well at the major chain bookstores and online. I don’t know if it was at Walmart-I sent my mom out to investigate and she didn’t see it at two Walmarts, but that doesn’t mean much because sometimes buys are regional, or it could have been sold out. I don’t know.

But just looking at the raw numbers told me that something was off. The following week, seven titles that were lower than me on USAT (I was at #55 that week) were on the print NYT list. I wasn’t even on the extended.

So, until tonight, this was all I had. And I looked at the facts and knew that it sounded like sour grapes and complaining. And it’s not. Seriously, every author that hit the NYT list deserves it and I’m honestly happy for them. It’s like entering a contest. All the finalists are great and deserve it-but we all know that there are other great books out there that didn’t make it for one reason or another that’s more subjective based on judging than anything else.

But the NYT claims to represent the bestselling books in the country. At the minimum they should tell their readers how they compile the list, and what has changed in the past year.

Why do I think something has changed?

In October 2007, romance novels (based on RWA membership-there could have been additional romance novels that hit who weren’t RWA members, such as Nicholas Sparks) enjoyed more weeks on the NYT and PW bestseller lists than in October of 2008:

NYT OCT 07
1 – 24
2 – 28
3 – 26
4 – 22
TOTAL: 100

PW OCT 07

1 – 9
2 – 9
3 – 8
4 – 6
5 – 4*
TOTAL: 32

NYT OCT 08
1 – 16
2 – 14
3 – 21
4 – 16
TOTAL: 67

PW OCT 08

1 – 3
2 – 6
3 – 8
4 – 6
TOTAL: 23

* PW tabulates differently than the NYT and had five weeks for October. To make it as fair as possible, I didn’t count week 5 for PW in the numbers-but it doesn’t seem to affect the numbers. If I did include it, it proves my point even more.

* Also, these numbers reflect hardcover, trade, and mass market bestsellers-the NYT and PW lists tabulate book release formats separately; USAT has all books-fiction and non-fiction, hardcover and paper, adult and children-on the same list. To be fair, I included all formats tracked.

* FYI: The NYT list comprises their top 35 bestsellers by format in h/c, trade, and mass market; PW is top 15 by format; USAT is top 150 ranked across all formats and genres.

* While this may not include ALL romance titles, it’s comparing apples to apples, ie RWA members for all lists.

There was a 33% reduction in romance list weeks in the NYT and a nearly 30% reduction in PW (if I’m doing my math correctly. And if I add in the 5th PW week because they use different days, then it’s almost dead-on the same percentage as the NYT reduction.)

Looking at this means nothing, really, because like I said above the lists are compiled from books selling that week. If there are fewer new romance releases, then the numbers will go down.

But when we look at USA Today, we see something completely different:

USAT OCT 07

1 – 24
2 – 15
3 – 10
4 – 13
TOTAL: 72

USAT OCT 08

1 – 25
2 – 25
3 – 21
4 – 20
TOTAL: 91

This is a nearly a 25% increase in romance title weeks on the USAT bestseller lists in these same months.

All I want is to know how these lists are compiled. Is the USAT list a true POS comparison? Can it be if they don’t include Walmart? And is the NYT intentionally, or through their statistical methodology, discriminating against romance novels?

And does it matter?

I would argue it does matter, but perhaps not as much once you can use the NYT bestseller designation on your books. Most readers don’t know or care how the lists are compiled. My sales may continue to increase and I may never hit the print list again, but because I have hit it in the past I can use NYT on my books. Yet, the industry perception may be that my career has hit a stumbling block. It won’t matter that my sales are strong and increasing, I’m not hitting * the * list. It may down the road affect distribution with vendors and wholesalers who look at the stats and wonder what’s up.

Honestly, the only thing that really matters is the bottom line. I know many authors who have consistently sold well over a long period of time, outselling many of the bestselling authors while they themselves have never hit a list.

But who it really hurts are the midlist romance writers trying to breakout and touch the holy grail . . . to be able to call themselves a New York Times bestselling author.

I just want to know what that means.