There’s nothing like packing for Denver in March to make you realize you have no clothes suited to temperatures under seventy degrees.
Nevertheless, conference season is kicking in and I’m off to Left Coast Crime this week, with a suitcase full of clothes much more appropriate to cruising the Caribbean. Setting aside that I’m jonesing for some author company and for some serious dancing, which actually is on the menu this year, I have been wondering why exactly I decided to go again so soon. And then I remember that there’s a special occasion simultaneous to the conference which makes the whole thing make sense.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Left Coast Crime – it’s a big conference for a small conference and one of the friendliest out there. But the business has changed so much, I have to wonder if conferences as we know them are on their way out. When you can reach tens of thousands of readers and sell thousands to tens of thousands of books with one free Amazon Kindle promotion, and when you can reach thousands to tens of thousands of readers with some concentrated Facebook posting, all pretty much for free, then how much sense does it really make to take five days to a week (what with packing and all the attendant readying, pedicures, pet sitting and all) away from time that you could be writing or promoting on line? Even the upcoming LA Times Festival of Books – I’m thinking that that day would be better spent just working it on Facebook – I’d sell more books and make more money from the books I sold. Without having to fight traffic, either.
Now, I know, online connections will never be as meaningful as the personal contact you can make with a reader in person. But do I really mean that? Really? I have readers who have been great about regularly interacting with me on Facebook, and here, of course, and my own blog, who I am getting to know… in fact, whom I feel I know much better than a lot of people I’ve only met briefly at conferences. But I DO enjoy the personal connection that conferences offer, and doing all the usual stuff – a panel, a Screenwriting Tricks workshop, the established authors breakfast where you pitch your latest book to a room of people who are always more awake than you are, given that it’s seven-thirty in the morning ON SATURDAY. At a CRIME CONFERENCE.
It’s going to be especially great to sit down with some of my e publishing friends to compare strategies and results, the kind of summit that’s a lot more productive in person than on line. And just the camaraderie – well, I’ve written about this here before, but it’s a relief to be around other writers because we KNOW each other. We know exactly what all the rest of us do just about every second of every day, we know how we feel about it, we know what makes a good day and what makes a bad day, we know each other’s exact fears and our exhilarations – we all have the same operating system, basically. There’s nothing like a conference to reconnect with the tribe, and too much alone in our heads isn’t good for us.
So no, I could never give up conferences entirely. And most of the ones I go to I get paid to go to, anyway, if I teach a Screenwriting Tricks workshop. I’m not complaining.
But when I look at time and effectiveness, the quantifiable results I can get from online promotions compared to the much less tangible benefits of conferences, I have to wonder, and I doubt I’ll be doing as much running around this year as I used to do.
Having said all that, here’s one conference I would never miss. Registration for Lee Lofland’s Writers Police Academy, held September 5-8 in North Carolina, opened this weekend: a marathon of forensics workshops; hands-on training in firearms, building searches, jail searches, handcuffing techniques; demonstrations of police/criminal shootouts; lectures in court proceedings and the life of an undercover cop – all conducted by top experts in their fields.
There are only a few slots left, which will sell out this week, and I would not be doing my job here if I didn’t say to all you crime writers out there – DO IT. Now. Register. Do the extra workshops, the FATS training and driving simulation. You will never, ever be sorry.
Here are a couple of blogs from my WPA experience last year, to drive the point home.
And when next September I post about how transcendent it all was, I don’t want to hear any whining from anyone who read this today and didn’t go for it.
So readers and writers, what are the cons you would never miss? Or are you shifting your writer/reader interaction to online, these days?
And here’s a big question: do you find you are making real connections on Facebook? Not to replace in-person relationships, of course, but deeper than you thought you could on line?
Too much to do Too much going on Too much to manage Too much to feel
Each day a chasm of shoulds and oughts Each day a trial born of sorrows and nots My heart a platter of food run cold My body sensing each cell grown old
And yet, in a moment, of unforeseen clarity A thought, still nascent, nurtures a true soul charity Could it be? Will it I rue?
Pari, do it now. Go to the zoo!
I search the hours of vacation time earned. I finish one project, avoid starting two. I sigh, my fingers bent round the ergonomic mouse. What folly this? To what insanity succumbed?
I run to the car ere my mind might change, My face the red of a woman deranged. Quick unlock the lock and click the belt! Hands gripping a steering wheel the sun yearns to melt.
Will this risk leave me burned Work piling higher, tasks undone, unconfirmed? Oh! So much to think! Oh! So much to do.
But sometimes, I just have to go to the zoo!
Today’s questions:
What do you do to relax on a beautiful day? When was the last time you gave yourself a break?
Most of you regular readers know that I have a genre identiy problem. My first novel, The Harrowing, is a supernatural thriller (because in 2006, no one in publishing would use the word “horror”). These days I’m writing a crime thriller series that’s only a little supernatural around the edges – if at all.
But then there’s that whole paranormal thing.
Okay, yes, I enjoy writing sex. And let’s face it – the romance community not only BUYS books in delirious quantities – they also throw the best parties in publishing. What can I say? I was seduced.
And in 2011 I was thrilled to be asked by the mega-talented and generally amazing Heather Graham to join forces with her and sister thriller writer Deborah LeBlanc to write a paranormal suspense trilogy for Harlequin Nocturne. The Keepers series follows a special set of humans with heightened powers who are charged with the ancestral duty of keeping the peace between mortals and the subcultures of paranormal beings who hide in plain sight among humans in cosmopolitan cities all over the world.
The first Keepers trilogy is set in my favorite American city, New Orleans, and chronicles the individual stories of the MacDonald sisters: vampire, shapeshifter and werewolf Keepers, who fight supernatural crime while trying not to become romantically entangled with the beings they are sworn to protect.
Now the series is back, with a new set of Keepers working to keep the peace between the supernatural Others and those crazy humans in Los Angeles. Three cousins: vampire, Elven and shapeshifter Keepers Rhiannon, Sailor, and Barrymore Gryffald wrestle with their new Keeper duties in a city where the mortals can be as deadly as the paranormals. Joining us for the new series is the fabulous Harley Jane Kozak, who knows a little something something about Hollywood.
Heather and Harley and I actually have a not-so-secret life together: Harley and I are part of the cast of Heather’s Slushpile Players and band, that perform and play for numerous conferences and other venues around the country, including Heather’s unmissable Writers for New Orleans Conference, held every December in the best city in the world. Over the years Heather has managed to rope us into playing Wild West vampires, zombie strippers, space aliens, and my personal favorite: pink flamingos. In fact, you might say that teaming up to write a paranormal series is one of the more sedate things we’ve ever done together.
Well, today, I’ve asked Heather and Harley to join me to introduce the books and answer a few questions about writing the series together.
+ How did the idea of The Keepers L.A. come about?
Heather: The Keepers exist to “keep” the status quo between the human life that moves along in happy bliss and the denizens of the underworld who are certainly stronger and many ways and have some very scary talents and/or habits. Our first question to one another was, if you were different and trying to blend in, where would you least be noticed? First go round, we all said, “Hm. New Orleans!” This go round, especially with Harley in the mix, we all came up with “Hollywood!” Harley has worked an “A” list acting career there, Alex has worked as a screenwriter and an activist in the Writers Guild, and my daughter Chynna graduated from CalArts and is pursuing the dream–seemed like, hm, yes! Hollywood. If there’s a third go around, my next inclination will probably be my home state and city, Miami, Florida. Trust me! We’re pretty oblivious down here. If you were a different species or an alien life form, we’d just all think that you came from somewhere else in the Caribbean or Central or South America.
Harley: I have no memory of how it started, so I’m glad Heather remembers everything. Although I was born in Pennsylvania and did a small stint in North Dakota and even smaller ones living on location as an actress, I’ve only really lived in 3 places in my adult life: New York, L.A. and Lincoln, Nebraska. Hollywood was thus a no-brainer, because I don’t think Heather and Alex would feel qualified to take on paranormal creatures living in Nebraska.
Alex: You’re right, Nebraska would be a stretch for me. I was nervous at first about the idea of writing L.A. because I know it so well as a real place, not an urban fantasy setting. But Heather and Harley hit on the perfect catalyst for the story: the cousins live in this magnificent, if run-down, old Hollywood estate in Laurel Canyon built by a magician friend of their family. That was so true to L.A. but so timeless, I instantly understood how the whole story world worked.
+ Is it true you three only know each other because Bob Levinson was looking for blondes for the first Thrillerfest awards show?
Heather: Yes, we were introduced by Bob Levinson! I will be grateful to him for many things–he’s a brilliant, wonderful man–but that he put the three of us together was amazing. I think that first day I felt as if I’d just met best friends that I’d known all my life. We can be miles apart for months and months–and it’s still the same, incredible to see one another, as natural as if we’d never been apart. You can see people daily and not have that kind of bond. I’m so grateful!
Harley: Yes, too true. Before meeting her, I’d seen Heather on a panel at the Romantic Times conference, and was wowed by her (naturally). And of course I’d heard of Alexandra Sokoloff (doesn’t that sound like a Russian Princess?) I remember thinking, when Bob floated the idea of the three of us, “I hope they like me” — just like kindergarten. And by golly, it was like kindergarten — and it still is. Whenever the three of us are together, it feels like playtime! How could I not want to write a series with Heather and Alex?
Alex: We do owe Bob for life. We just can’t ever tell him that. I had the exact same “I hope they like me” feeling. I’d read Heather’s books for years, and of course I’d seen Harley in just about everything. In fact, I once won a nice chunk of money in a “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” style movie trivia party game because I knew Harley had starred with Bill Pullman in a film called “The Favor”. So obviously, it was destiny. Meeting Heather and Harley for the first time, it was completely like we’d always known each other. I couldn’t believe how real they were!
The Killerettes, with Bob Levinson
+ What would you say makes you uniquely qualified to write about supernatural mayhem in Hollywood?
Heather: The uniquely qualified here really goes to Harley and Alex–although once Chynna headed to L.A., I definitely became qualified to write about LAX. Seriously, I definitely spend enough time in L.A. and Hollywood, although I admit I’m pretty sure my daughter became a “valley girl” before I actually understood exactly where the valley was. But I also have a young friend who is one of the most amazing “fabricationeers” I’ve ever met; she works for Legacy Studios and she’s been kind enough to bring me through her work place–it’s amazing! Robert Downey, Jr.’s Ironman suit is next to a werewolf is next to a mummy is next to a giant rat is next to . .
Alex: Wow, I want to go see! L.A. does have the greatest costumes. Me, I’ve lived here most of my life, but this was my first time setting a book here. Which is crazy, because it turns out it’s so much easier to write a place that you know as well as I know L.A. I can make fun of it with absolute authority and also show off the truly dazzling aspects of the city. And having worked in the film business I had no problem whatsoever populating it with vampires and werewolves and shapeshifters and Elven. No stretch at all.
Harley: In the early 80’s I was flown from New York to Palm Springs to do a week’s work on location (as an actress) and I was such a yokel that until I was on the plane I actually thought I was heading to Florida. I was confusing Palm Springs with Palm Beach. (Geography is not my strong suit.) I’ve never forgotten that first time, the plane landing, the sight of palm trees, the feel of the air, so different from anywhere else on earth, the eerie quality of the afternoon light. I came here for another job in 1985 and didn’t intend to stay, yet here I am. I can truly say I love L.A.
+ What most fascinates you about the paranormal? To what one influence in your life do you attribute your fascination with the possibilities beyond the “known world?”
Heather: My mom was Irish and immigrated with her family. My grandmother watched my sister and I sometimes and was the world’s most incredible story-teller. She had tales about pixies, leprechauns, gnomes, giants, and all kinds of things that went bump in the night. She really used to warn my sister and I to behave or the “banshee’s be’d getting you in the outhouse.” Her stories were so good we trembled–and didn’t realize until we were teenagers that we didn’t have an outhouse.
Alex: My dad was my influence, totally. He was a scientist, a complete rationalist, but he grew up in Mexico City, and Mexico is just steeped in magical realism. When I was a kid Dad would tell us ghost stories as if every single moment of them actually happened. He was so factual in every other aspect of his life that I think I got confused about reality. Or maybe it was Berkeley that did that. One of those. And as to what most fascinates me about the paranormal – it’s exactly that place where the paranormal and reality meet that I love to explore in my books – the blurry line between what may have been a paranormal experience and what may just be a psychological interpretation. Or drugs. Or just plain crazy.
Harley: My grandma. She was my mother’s mother, Scandinavian, and came to live with us when I was a baby. She read coffee grounds and tea leaves, had precognitive dreams, and the occasional visit from recently dead people on their way to the Other Side. And read fortunes in playing cards (along with playing a mean game of rummy).
+ How was working together on a project for you?
Heather: The most fun ever that someone could pretend to call work! When we’d sit together, ideas would flow, we’d laugh, we’d think. I think our first real hash-through day was in the lobby of the Universal City Sheraton. They film there frequently and the walls behind the check-in desk are covered with pictures of stars from the silent era on. I think if I was asked to walk on water with Harley and Alex, I’d be willing to give it a try!
Alex: There’s such a past-life feeling to it, really. I sometimes forget I haven’t actually lived in a magical old Hollywood mansion with Heather and Harley; it seems like something that happened.
Harley: Same. Every time I drive down Laurel Canyon and come to Lookout Mountain, I crane my neck, staring at “our” house and half expecting to see Rhiannon, Barrie and Sailor pulling out of the driveway.
Alex: So, ‘Rati, the topic for the day is – for writers, can you ever see yourself writing something very much out of what you consider your genre? I never saw myself writing anything in the “romance” category, but the Keepers series not only allows me to write with two of my best friends – it’s also expanded my readership to a lot of people who would never have tried my books before because they perceive my writing as “too scary”. I’m happy to write something lighter for sensitive readers (there’s a lot that I won’t read myself because I find it too disturbing), and even happier when once they know me some of those readers cross over and read my thrllers as well.
And readers – do you read your favorite authors in other genres, too, or do you prefer them to stick to what they’re known for?
New Keeper Rhiannon Gryffald has her peacekeeping duties cut out for her—because in Hollywood, it’s hard to tell the actors from the werewolves, bloodsuckers and shape-shifters. Then Rhiannon hears about a string of murders that bear all the hallmarks of a vampire serial killer, and she must confront her greatest challenge yet. She teams up with Elven detective Brodie McKay and they head to Laurel Canyon, epicenter of the danger, where they uncover a plot that may forever alter the face of human-paranormal relations.
Lust. Elven Keeper Sailor Gryffald’s body quivers with it, but is it a symptom of the deadly Scarlet Pathogen coursing through her bloodstream or the proximity of shifter Keeper Declan Wainwright?
Sailor and Declan have had an uneasy relationship ever since they met, and now things are about to get a lot more complicated. A killer is stalking Los Angeles, intentionally infecting Elven with the deadly virus, and now Sailor and Declan must work to keep the supernatural peace while bringing the murderer to justice. But, in doing so, these powerful denizens of the Otherworld find themselves straddling a fine line between lust…and love.
Barrie Gryffald’s work as a crime beat reporter is risky enough when she’s investigating mortal homicides. But when a teenage shifter and an infamous Hollywood mogul are both found dead on the same night, her Keeper intuition screams, Otherworldly.
Reluctantly, she enlists her secret crush, Mick Townsend, a journalist with movie-star appeal, and together, they dig up eerie parallels to a forgotten cult-film tragedy. But it may be too late. With a cast of suspects ranging from vampire junkies to the ghosts of Hollywood past, no one can be trusted. Least of all Mick, who may well prove to be as unpredictable as the Others Barrie is sworn to protect….
Alessande Salisbrooke has been warned about the legend of the old Hildegard Tomb – how human sacrifices are being carried out by the followers of a shape-shifting magician. As a Keeper, Alessande understands the risks of investigating, but she can’t shake the nagging feeling that the killings are tied to a friend’s recent murder, and she can’t turn her back.
With the help of Mark Valiente, a dangerously sexy vampire cop, Alessande narrowly escapes becoming a sacrifice herself. But as the bodies continue piling up, completely drained of blood, one truth becomes all too clear: life is an illusion, and no one-not even those you care about the most-is who they seem.
I’ve always loved the research that goes along with being an author, particularly a crime fiction author. I’ve posted here on some of my different research subjects, such as cults (part 1 & 2), handwriting, Kung Fu and Dim-Mak, real-life vampires and being a hitman (or woman).
I’ve also mentioned that I’m currently working in another new genre, writing a young adult (YA) novel. But this little YA novel has been giving me grief. Like, quite a lot of grief. But it’s not the writing process (which has actually been pretty easy), it’s the research. And what makes it hard, is that the book is a pre-apocalyptic novel set in the year 2030. So, it’s the near future. And I guess I’m pretty hopeless at speculating what the world will be like in 17 years’ time.
A little background…the book is set in the US and much of the action takes place in the environment of the Secret Service. In some ways, I figure the near future setting means perhaps I’ve got a bit of leeway. If I don’t get a specific Secret Service procedure right, maybe it’s just that things changed from how it’s done now to how it would be done in 17 years in the future. Right?
But there are so many little facts and questions that are bugging me. Here are just a few:
Will a new power source have been discovered by then or are we still talking the current methods, including nuclear power?
Can my main character raise her SIG 9mm to take a shot? Surely guns will still be around and SIG SAUER will still make them. Or will they?
Will the US election system still be the same?
Will the President still fly on ‘Air Force One’ and ‘Marine One’? And presumably planes and choppers will still be our primary method of fast transport. Won’t they?
Will countries have merged to make new countries or super powers?
What will the world look like in terms of water shortage and greenhouse gases? Surely 17 years wouldn’t have much effect…or will it?
Will people be reaching for their phones and tablets or something entirely different?
What will the internet look like in 17 years’ time?
It seems this particular area of my imagination is pretty pathetic! Problem is, when dealing with the near future I think you tread a fine line between what’s plausible and what’s short-sighted.
Have you thought much about the near future and what it might look like? If you’ve got any insights into any of the above, go for it! Help me!!!! God knows I need it.
Trolling about on Facebook yesterday, I stumbled upon this terrific Gawker article by Cord Jefferson on writers who write for free and the far-reaching, unintended consequences of this ever-growing practice. The emphasis of Cord’s piece is on journalists who work gratis for online publications, as opposed to authors of fiction, but many of the questions he raises are universal in scope as they relate to anyone trying to live on what he writes these days. Boiled down to its bare essence, I think Cord’s main point could be stated thusly: If you don’t have a moneyed benefactor of some kind (mother, father, uncle, sibling, etc.) out there somewhere both willing and able to throw you a few dollars as the demands of mere survival arise, good luck kicking off that writing career by giving your stuff away for free.
In those ancient times before the Internet came along, when the market for fiction and non-fiction was dominated by publications you could actually hold in your hands, the editor who asked, let alone demanded, that a writer write something for free was the exception, not the rule. This was because a writer offended by such a request could just take his piece elsewhere and get paid. He had options.
This isn’t the case anymore. The vast majority of non-fiction work now resides with online publications, where money is generally — if not always — scarce, and editors in the online world have become perfectly comfortable using the start-up’s classic refrain of “we can’t pay you now, but later on down the road . . .” to offer writers nothing but exposure and a byline for their work. And who can eat on that?
As new as this cruel form of indentured servitude is to journalism, however, it’s been a staple of doing business in Hollywood for ages.
Much to the chagrin of the Writers Guild of America, the screenwriter who’s never written a word for free is either a film school grad fresh off the bus from Cleveland or a raging narcissist without a single credit to his name. Writing on spec (that is, “speculation”) is what a screenwriter does to prove his mettle; it keeps his skills sharp and fills out his portfolio. But it’s also the entry fee many producers expect a screenwriter to pay for the “privilege” of landing a real, honest-to-God writing assignment. Even producers with deep pockets ask for a free draft before offering a fee, reduced or otherwise.
If you’ve got a writing credit or two in your pocket, you can afford to be principled and pass. Maybe another, paying screenwriting opportunity will soon come along. But when you’re just starting out, wondering if the dream is ever going to happen for you — how do you say no?
The truth is, you shouldn’t. In some cases, anyway.
The key to knowing when you should or should not write a script for free is making an accurate assessment of who’s doing the asking. Is this “producer” a real pro or a poseur? Will he keep his word to adequately reward you for all your hard work at the back end or are all his promises likely to be a lie? Can he get a deal for his project made so that everyone involved gets paid, or is he just as likely to go nowhere with it as you would be on your own?
These are tough calls to make, and it’s all too easy to screw them up. I know, because I’ve done it. And oddly enough, it’s not the times I agreed to work for free that I regret most, but the times I didn’t. I have a considerable ego, in case you hadn’t noticed, so being asked to do something for free that others get paid to do has never sat well with me. Looking back at some of the chances I had to write on assignment sans fee, I can count one or two that, in retrospect, were probably golden. But I turned them down.
Moi, write for free? You must be joking.
The lesson I think I’ve learned — as late as I am in getting around to it — is that not every person (editor, producer, agent, etc.) asking you to write something for little or no compensation is a crook looking to exploit you. Sometimes, the risk of writing for free is one well worth taking.
When faced with the choice of writing on spec or not, let your head decide the matter for you, not your pride.
Today I’d like to welcome fellow Aussie author Lindy Cameron to Murderati. I met Lindy through the fantastic Victorian chapter of Sisters in Crime. A great woman who’s moved from author to author/publisher I thought it would be interesting to hear her story. Why did she start her own publishing company? Over to Lindy…
There are many things in the life of this author that try my patience. And the fact that I can actually do that, to myself, is somewhat ridiculous.
I am the Queen of Procrastination. And I say that like I am the only author who can say that, which is also ridiculous, because all writers mainline Avoidance like it’s a drug.
In fact, if you don’t find everything else to do but write, then you’re not really a writer.
Got a book deadline? Time to try out a new laksa recipe. Hmm, might have to wait until the zucchinis finish growing. Write another chapter while the stock is doing its thing – done. Oh look – the dog wants to go out; come back in; go out; eat the kitty litter. Finish chapter 10. Clean up the shredded six-pack of toilet paper. Start Chapter 11. Do a load of washing. Rewrite Chapter 11. Research just how that particular bullet will react with that metal after it’s gone through Bad Guy No 4. Oh look – that Facebook meme about how to write is hilarious. No I really, really don’t want to change my power company, young man. Just because I answered the front door because, yes, I am AT home doesn’t mean I’m not working AT home. I’m a writer – damn it!
It is totally beyond me how I’ve managed to write five crime novels and co-write two true crime books, plus blah-blah-blah, in the last decade or so. And that always seems like a lot, until I realise I know some authors – like actually know them – who write one or two (egad!) crime novels a year.
And then I remember my biggest, weirdest and – as many people (including my partner and me) have suggested – craziest avoidance technique of all.
I started a publishing company.
I did this (in 2010) for a number of reasons. Mostly because I realised I had all the necessary skills to do something so utterly wackadoo – and in the middle of what everyone else was calling the GFC (whatever the hell that was).
I did it because I discovered there were two or 20 authors out there – apart from me – who were a little dissatisfied (understatement much?) with the Way of Big Publishers.
I also did it because I was lucky enough to snaffle some of those very same authors. Yes, I talked them into my fold, enticed them into my web, convinced them I wasn’t a complete loon, and welcomed them into my Clan.
I managed this, in some cases, because I wanted to publish certain books – by those established authors, I mean – that their existing Big Publisher didn’t want to touch because they might confuse the author’s existing readership.
[Ooh, can’t possibly ruin our crime writer’s rep by letting them go all paranormal, or write a historical novel, or something with a pirate in it!]
As an Independent Publisher, I also set about finding new Australian crime and thriller writers; publishing the back lists of existing thriller writers; republishing out-of-print crime and historical fiction; mentoring debut authors; and seeking out sf, f, duf, h, c, tc, and all the other fabulous letters that go with being a ‘capital G’ Genre publisher.
Crime and thrillers are my first love – they are what I write, after all; when I do write, I mean; you know, when I’m not publishing; really, you need to go out again? Get off the cat! What?…
But in the third year of my little company, Clan Destine Press, I’ve also discovered I needed to add r, rr & e (romance, rural romance & erotica) to the list.
Why?
Because I can!
And there are also ‘trends’ which, as a publisher, one needs to be aware of.
One of the joys of being an Independent Publisher in the 21st Century is that we are not confined to paper.
Most of our books are paperbacks; but they are also eBooks.
And this year, more and more of our books will be eBooks first – to test the waters, to launch new careers, to get more voices out there sooner, to bring the world more fantasy, spec fic, science fiction, erotic adventures, historical fiction, and best of all: more crime and thrillers and thrilling crime and…
Now Chapter 12, where was I?
Phillipa (PD) here again…if you’ve got any questions or comments for Lindy, go for it! Lindy and I will be dropping by!
It seems that, recently, the internet – or the little corner I inhabit of it – has been full of writers either telling their stories of how they got published, or what happened after they got published or even, in the case of Chuck Wendig asking other writers to contribute their stories of how they got published to act as a corrective against bad advice being given out to aspiring writers about the publishing industry. It’s here. Have a look at it. It’s well worth it.
Matt Haig, the excellent British author, has contributed several excellent pieces on the subject. You can find a couple of them here and here. They’re excellent. Better than anyhting I can say.
So with that in mind, and in response to Chuck’s piece, I decided to write my own. It’s not particularly brilliant or original, but it is, as they say in the best comic books, my origin story.
So here you go. Here it is.
I started writing with the serious intention of being published in 1992. Like most people in South London, I was an actor at the time. I had moved to London after college in the hope of getting acting work. Ironically, the work I got was anywhere but London. But I wanted to write. Probably, in hindsight, more than I wanted to act. And I loved crime fiction. So, with the money I’d made form a couple of commercials, I bought a second hand word processor and sat down to write. It took me three months and I’d written a crime novel. I thought it was brilliant. No one agreed. So I bought the Writers Yearbook and went about tracking down an agent. I started at the ‘A’s and worked my way through, phoning them up, asking if they’d like to see it. Not being pushy or mental about it, just calm and (hopefully) interesting and engaging. Some said yes, some didn’t. The ones who said yes I sent some sample chapters to along with a covering letter. I think it took me nearly as long to write the letter as it had done the book. One agent eventually said yes. I sent her the full book to read and waited to hear back, all excited. She hated it. Said it was one of the worst things she’d ever read in her life. Back to square one. Back to the Writers Yearbook, starting from A.
Another agent wanted to read it. One who had read it before, incidentally. I told her I had completely rewritten it. She read it, liked it and agreed to represent me. Long story short, my first novel, Mary’s Prayer, was published in 1997. Five years, that took. From thinking I had a novel after three months to finally seeing it in a bookshop. During that time it went round every publishing house in London, both big ones and small ones. While it was out I was constantly rewriting and editing. It was my first novel. No matter how brilliant I thought it was I could always make it better. Eventually an editor read it, liked it, but thought it needed work. I asked her what she meant and whether she could show me. She edited a couple of chapters, showing me how she wanted it done. It was the most valuable thing anyone has ever done for me as a writer. I spent six months editing it like she had shown me. I sent it back. I got a two book deal. That was it, my foot was in the door.
I switched publishers for my third novel. It did better than the first. I also got to know other crime writers. I got invites to launches and parties. I went and networked. I talked to people in publishing, became friends with some of them. At no time did I present myself as desperate or ambitious. Just as one professional to another. I also went along to support other writers and their work. This is a community. We all have a part to play. We get out of it what we put in.
I moved publishers with my third book, then again for the fourth, for a substantial hike in money this time. I wrote two literary novels that, while being critical successes, weren’t commercial ones. I found myself at a crossroads. Be mainstream, literary and unread or go back to crime. I needed a change. So after ten years I switched agents. It was a wrench but I felt it was the right thing to do. I’m still with the agent I switched to.
I wrote The Mercy Seat, the first of the Joe Donovan novels. It was nominated for a couple of awards. Didn’t win, but it got me attention. I wrote (so far) four in the series but couldn’t stay with that publisher any longer. I’d kept in touch with my old editor from my previous publisher. He’s now deputy publisher at one of the biggest houses. He asked me to write a commercial thriller under a female pseudonym. I asked my wife to help. Tania Carver, the internationally bestselling author, was born. There have been five Tania Carver novels to date, published all over the world. With varying degrees of success, it has to be said. I’m also about to write a novel under my own name again. Hammer Books asked me to write the sequel to Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black. I couldn’t turn that down.
And that’s where I am now.
So, as Jerry Springer used to say, what have we learned here? What lessons can be drawn from my origin story? I don’t know. I wanted to be a published writer. I wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept going. I worked bloody hard to get it right, to improve, to make my work good enough to be published. Bloody hard. I was lucky enough to find two agents who’ve believed in me. I got out and met people. I networked. I wasn’t pushy or desperate because I’m not pushy or desperate. In all my dealings with my agent and publishers I’m thoroughly professional. I listen to what they have to say and generally act on it because they know their job better than I do. I’ve never been precious about my work. I know it can always be improved.
It’s a business, yes. A publisher wants to make money, as does an agent and a writer. I want to make money from it and I’m fortunate enough to be able to do that. I’m not super rich or even plain old rich. But it’s enough to pay the mortgage and to provide for my family so that’s OK. Plus I don’t have to get a regular job. I know it could all change tomorrow. But at the moment it seems to be working.
But the other important thing is – it’s also my life. I love being a writer. My best friends are now other writers and other publishing professionals. It is, as I said earlier, a community. One that I’m proud to be a part of.
I’ve rambled on too long and I don’t know if this’ll help anybody. Or even if anyone will get to the end before expiring. But there you go. It’s how I did it.
Before I became an author and joined the community of authors I felt very much alone. Not so much in college, where I shared the artist dream with a community of dreamers who dreamed big because, well, they were in college and the world held so much possibility. No, it came after college when the dream began to fade, when the priority was to support first myself and then myself and my family through a variety of day jobs that others called “careers.”
I watched as my college peers took their own deconstructive paths, becoming car salesmen or temp workers or salesmen of one sort or another. I was the long hold-out for a long while, finding employment “within” the industry, in marketing and distribution at Disney Studios, in film development for Wolfgang Petersen. I seemed to be succeeding, but I wasn’t living my dream. I was still doing the “day job” while writing the dream at night and on weekends. The development gig was so invasive that I finally had to give it up. In roughly five years as a development executive I didn’t get any significant writing done. I had to leave the “creative” job and find a “normal” day job so I could create some time to write. Because, in the end, that’s what I do. I write. Writing is my career, even if it doesn’t pay my bills.
It took a lot to give up that high-profile film job. I had to really come to terms with what and who I was, and what the ultimate cost would be if I didn’t make the time to write. I had to realize that the ups and downs of the film business meant nothing to me. My head was somewhere else.
My head was in the story. The story that began when I woke up in the morning and paused when I went to work. The story that resumed after 5:00 pm and escalated into the night, until sleeping paused it again, or rather, shifted it into another gear, because dreaming was another form of writing. The story dominated my weekends and paused again at 9:00 Monday morning.
Why I like writers is they’re like-minded.
At all the day jobs I’ve had I’ve witnessed the petty machinations of office politics at work. It seems the more people involved in the process–customer service, inside sales, accounting, engineering, technical support, shipping–the more opportunity there is for back-biting, gossip and general chaos. People seem to need drama in their lives. People seem to need to be seen and heard and voice their opinions when their feelings are hurt, and then step on toes to assert their dominance. It’s high school all over again. It can be a full-time job just keeping up with who has the power and whose favor must be curried to stay in the game.
I’ve never participated in such office politics. It’s a drain on my creative energy. I don’t need the drama, because the drama is waiting for me when the work day is done. It’s on the page. It’s real drama, life-and-death drama, and the best thing about it is no one gets hurt.
Writers have more important things to do than dwell on their workplace version of Game of Thrones. And I think that tends to make us targets at the office. Because we won’t play the game. We’re outsiders, by definition. We sit on the outside and observe human behavior and translate our observations into believable, fictional characters. And sometimes we exact our revenge on characters who closely resemble characters in our daily lives, in our daily jobs. But it’s a private victory, and no one gets hurt.
The authors I’ve met since being published have instilled in me the confidence that I lacked when I was merely the “weird writer guy” at the office. I didn’t know a single author before I was published, and now I know thousands. It’s a community that gives me strength. I realize that I’m not the lonely dreamer, that there are tens of thousands of us, and each and every one has had to find his or her own way in a world where success is measured in dollars earned.
Writers live in the present and the future simultaneously. We sit at our computers presently, writing the story that will find it’s time in the future. We do our daily jobs in the present, but write an insurance policy for future happiness, when the book comes out and our dreams become reality.
Maybe the people who sit bickering at their day jobs, who ally themselves with others against a common enemy, who devour a co-worker’s reputation through continued picking and pecking, maybe these people see their day jobs as careers, and the hopeless realization of this truth is simply too much to bear. It would be too much for me. I, too, would be angry if I had to give up the dream. Because most people, when they’re kids, dream big. They want to be astronauts or firemen or super heros. When they become the tech support guy or customer sales associate for this or that company and realize that the road to NASA is closed, well, it can be a bitter pill. Then every little upset that occurs in the course of their day means the end of their world. Often they choose to bring others down with them, especially those who haven’t yet learned to let go of their dreams.
A writer’s world never ends. There’s always another story to be told. We’ll never live long enough to tell the stories we have to tell.
Our stories are simply more important than the workplace dramas that consume those around us.
This week for the first time I came across mention of a guy called Theodore Levitt. And having done so I’m ashamed that I had not heard of him before. He was a German-born American economist and editor of the Harvard Business Review. Among his other achievements Mr Levitt wrote an article called Marketing Myopia in which he raises some fascinating points about business—particularly big business—and why it fails.
Mr Levitt points out that “the history of every dead and dying ‘growth’ industry shows a self-deceiving cycle of bountiful expansion and undetected decay.” At some point every industry can be said to be booming but then it dies away. Usually this is because markets change and the industry fails to adapt, or because they become so fixated on mass-producing and selling their existing product that they no longer concentrate on the wants or needs of those buying that product.
Henry Ford is credited with inventing the first mass-production line for his cars. In fact, his real genius was looking at what his customers—or potential customers—wanted and realising that if he could sell a car for $500 he could sell millions of them. The production line grew out of that need to cut costs in order to sell at such a low price, but the marketing strategy came first.
Mr Levitt examines the railroad industry in the States, which he suggests fell into decline because it saw itself firmly as being in the railroad business instead of in the transportation business. It thought about what it was producing, not what its customers wanted, which was simply to get themselves and their goods from A to B as quickly and cheaply as possible.
Likewise, the petroleum industry is really in the energy business, whether that incorporates gas, nuclear, solar or geothermal energy. To cling to the past will ensure that new giants emerge and eventually kick the old giants to the kerb.
The long and the short of it is if you think of yourself as producing a product rather than satisfying a customer you are eventually doomed to failure.
But the most remarkable thing about all this is that Theodore Levitt wrote Marketing Myopia in 1960. It seems very little has been learned since then.
Three years ago a website called Digital Marketing summarized Mr Levitt’s original piece with the additional comparison of Hollywood and the TV industry. Those Hollywood studios who saw themselves as producing movies and nothing else have floundered. Those who moved into other areas of the entertainment industry seem to have, on the whole, thrived. (And I realise there will always be exceptions to this rule.)
That brings me to authors and books. To me I am not a producer of books I am a teller of stories. How people absorb those stories is almost immaterial—it could be via hardcover, paperback, car stereo, MP3 player, iPod, Kindle, tablet, PC, smartphone or cortical implant—and I can see that happening in my lifetime, I can tell you. At the end of the day it’s the story that matters, not the delivery system.
So, are publishers providers of stories to people who want to read them, or are they producers of books? And are the markets led by what the publishers want to sell to that reading public, or what the reading public wants to buy?
In bookstores in the States I am always amazed by the number of categories and genres into which books are divided up. In the UK it tends to be Crime & Thriller and True Crime. In the USA there are far more to go at, from Cosy to Hardboiled to Noir to PI, Police Procedural to Amateur Sleuth, Woman-in-Jeopardy, Serial Killer, Bodyguard, Vigilante, Investigative Reporter, Slasher/Shocker … the list is endless.
And now of course we have far more crossover with vampire detectives, werewolf private eyes, ghosts, zombies, witches, wizards and otherworldly beings who delve into the life (or undeath) of crime. Your main protagonist is just as likely to be keeping the peace on a distant space station as at a California Hellmouth, or use magic rather than deductive reasoning.
This all leaves me with some interesting questions. Who is leading the market now? With such a wealth and breadth of cross-genres and sub-genres out there, are readers finding more of exactly what they want (even if previously it fell between the cracks of established categories) or less?
Do you feel mainstream crime books are tending to crowd into a mould of what has been previously successful, or are we seeing more imaginative themes being explored? Has the indie/self-publishing revolution given you more choice? Or is it simply harder to find what you’re looking for because of sheer volume?
What do YOU, as a reader, want to read?
This week’s Word of the Week is hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian, meaning pertaining to extremely long words.
Due to numerous ungodly demands, I’m unable to do justice to a new post this week, but in celebration of the award nominations — including the Edgar and the Agatha to date — being extended to Books to Die For, the sprawling and marvelous collection of essays edited by John Connelly and Declan Burke, I thought I’d offer it again.
For those of you who haven’t yet picked up this book, it really is an indispensable guide to crime fiction by the women and men who love it so much they write it.
Last year, John Connolly asked if I wanted to take part in an anthology he and Declan Burke were planning, with the invaluable aid of Assistant Editor (and esteemed Answer Girl) Ellen Clair Lamb.
The premise: Ask some of the best crime writers in the world today what book within the genre—whether a classic, a modern masterpiece, an overlooked gem, or a long-forgotten pulp—most influenced them, inspired them, or otherwise led them to want to shove a copy into the hands of every unsuspecting reader they came across.
Compensation: A pittance, or a bottle of whiskey—Midleton Very Rare Blended Irish Whiskey, to be exact.
Guess what my answer was—both as to whether I wished to join the scrum and what form of compensation I preferred.
Turns out, I was in excellent company.
The result: Books to Die For, a compendium (love that word) of almost 120 pieces from writers around the world that hit bookstores in the U.S. yesterday. (It came out in the U.K. last month.)
It’s truly a must-read for the crime aficionado on your Christmas list—or, as John and Dec put it perfectly in a word of appreciation sent out to the contributors:
Quite frankly, we don’t think there has ever been a line-up quite so starry in any previously published anthology, and the quality of the contributions was exceptionally high. In the end, the book functions not only as a reading guide, but as an overview of the genre.
That’s an understatement. Treated to my own copy, I’ve been reading the entries and marveling at the books chosen, the insights and historical perspective provided (the books are arranged chronologically), as well as the personal statements of awe and fascination and devotion—even envy.
To give you some idea of who some of the contributors are, just check out this list of those attending the promotional event at Bouchercon (at the Cleveland Marriott Renaissance):
Linwood Barclay, Mark Billingham, Cara Black, Lee Child, Reed Farrel Coleman, Max Allan Collins, Michael Connelly, Thomas H. Cook, Deborah Crombie, Joseph Finder, Meg Gardiner, Alison Gaylin, Charlaine Harris, Erin Hart, Peter James, Laurie R. King, Michael Koryta, Bill Loehfelm, Val McDermid, John McFetridge, Stuart Neville, Sara Paretsky, Michael Robotham, S.J. Rozan, Yrsa Sigurdardottir, Julia Spencer-Fleming, Kelli Stanley, Martyn Waites, and F. Paul Wilson.
And that list neglects Elmore Leonard and Joseph Wambaugh and Marcia Muller and Rita Mae Brown and George Pelecanos and Dennis Lehane and Karin Slaughter and Laura Lippman and Jeffery Deaver and Bill Pronzini and Tana French and Louise Penny and Ian Rankin and Jo Nesbo and Megan Abbott and Sara Gran and John Harvey and Ken Bruen and Minette Walters and Kathy Reichs and Scott Phillips and Joe Lansdale and Chuck Hogan and Lisa Lutz and Patricia Cornwell and Eddie Muller and Meg Gardiner and Adrian McKinty and Margaret Maron and James Sallis and …
For a complete list of contributors and the books they chose, as well as Bonus Materials from some of us who had other books we wanted to champion but space would not permit—the book already clocks in at an impressive 730 pages—check out the Books2Die4 website.
Some of the entries are gems of critical appreciation. Some read like fan letters. Every single one I’ve read so far has taught me something I didn’t know.
Karin Slaughter selected Metta Fuller Victor’s The Dead Letter and makes an airtight case that the overlooked Victor—a woman writing voluminously in the mid-to-late nineteenth century—was far more influential to the subsequent development of the genre than Edgar Allan Poe:
Victor’s novels were not driven to immediate climax, but filled with reversals, twists, and misdirections that both prolonged the denouement and arguably made the climax that much more rewarding. Victor didn’t just set out the facts of the crime: she explored social mores, distinguishing between the upper and middle classes with a subtle reference to clothing or manner. She described atmosphere and scenery in careful detail, giving her stories an air of grounded reality. The characters in Victor’s books were not cynical about crime. They felt loss and tragedy to their very core. For these reasons and more, it seems that the Victor formula, not Poe’s, is the convention to which modern crime fiction more closely hews.
Megan Abbott makes a similar argument for Dorothy B. Hughes’s In A Lonely Place—“the most influential novel you’ve never read”—a serial killer tale from the murderer’s point of view that preceded Jim Thompson’s The Killer Inside Me by five years.
Hughes hoists her killer on the autopsy table, still breathing, and shows us everything he doesn’t want to see about himself: the twin arteries of masculine neurosis and sexual panic that drive his crimes. It turns out that Hughes is up to much more than telling a killer’s tale. Through her dissection, In A Lonely Placesays more about gender trouble and sexual paranoia in post-World War II America than perhaps any other American novel.
Two of my favorite entries were written by my fellow Murderateros Martyn Waites and Gar Anthony Haywood.
Martyn selected Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned, a book he routinely recommended to the inmates he tutored at one of Her Majesty’s prisons. It’s the first Socrates Fortlow novel from Walter Mosley, a series often overshadowed by the Easy Rawlins monolith. When my late wife read this book, she forced it on me with the same enthusiasm Martyn does, saying, “This isn’t like a crime novel. It’s like a myth.” Here’s how Martyn puts it:
It’s no accident that this lead character has been given the name of Socrates, the father of Western philosophy. Written in the aftermath of the L.A. riots and the Rodney King beating, this hulking ex-con becomes a contemporary inquisitor, asking difficult moral questions of a society that has retained a dogmatic grip on the letter of the law but has lost purchase of its fair and compassionate spirit.
Gar selected Richard Price’s Clockers, a book I often go back and re-read. Gar’s entry brings in his father, and I always enjoy reading Gar discuss his dad. It turns out that Gar lent his father a number of top-tier crime novels, but only one “blew him completely away.”
“This guy’s the real deal,” he told me when I asked him what he thought. And coming from my father—a man of few words if ever there was one—this was high praise, indeed…. Reading it from a writer’s perspective, you’re immediately struck by the vast array of skills Price has on display: plotting that moves at optimum speed, characters that live and breathe, dialogue devoid of a single false note. And this last is no exaggeration: every word of every line Price’s people speak in Clockers rings true. Every one.
My own pick was James Crumley’s The Wrong Case, and it pairs with Dennis Lehane’s appreciation of The Last Good Kiss. Of Crumley’s ability to make even the absurd seem not just believable but necessary, I wrote:
He set a tone that kept you off-balance, a tone that blended a kind of sly irony with heartsick desperation, an understanding that the battle for the good is fought by ingeniously flawed men doing the ridiculous in the service of some angry, inscrutable truth.
The anthology is full of gems, each only a few pages long, so it’s easy to wrap one up in a brief sitting and move on to the next, or wait to savor it later.
Speaking of savoring it later: I haven’t tried the whiskey yet, saving it for some special occasion over the holidays. But it’s from County Cork, where William Augustus Corbett and his bride, Katie, spent their lives before sailing to America in 1882. That alone bears promise.
So, Murderateros: If asked to name just one book in the genre that had an overwhelming impact on you, which one would you choose—more importantly, why? (Feel free to add your remarks to those of otherson the book’s website.)
A select group of booksellers will have copies signed by various contributors. For where to find one of those copies, go here.
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Jukebox Hero of the Week: In one of my very first author appearances (with Laurie King and Michael Connelly), I was asked a question similar to the one asked of me by John and Dec for Books to Die For. But I didn’t name a book or a writer. I admitted that I was probably far more influenced by this man than anyone I’d ever read, specifically this song:
