This is a test
Check after the fjfjfj
this is a test
What Do You Say to a Loser?
Sorry for the late post today; I’ve been trying to catch up on life since returning from Malice Domestic late last night.
Rather than recap the convention, I thought I’d offer my own little primer on an important etiquette question that seems to have escaped many a manner maven.
What do you say to someone who has been nominated for a national award . . . but, alas, loses?
Since I’ve begun to refer to myself as the Susan Lucci of the Agathas (of course . . . I should be so lucky), I’ve built a sturdy, big soapbox upon which to stand.
Before I get too distracted, let me just say one thing:
IT’S AN HONOR TO BE NOMINATED.
YES. IT REALLY IS. And, I hear winning is pretty nice, too.
For many, talking to an author who has lost an award can be a disconcerting experience. I mean, how do you offer condolences for something as nebulous as a “coulda, shoulda, woulda?”
First, let me get the negative stuff out of the way. Some people feel compelled to say something to nominees after the winner is announced.
The following are a few unpleasantries uttered to me that didn’t sit quite right . . .
(Remember . . . If you want to avoid embarrassment, you can always run from the finalist, or duck into a bathroom close by, rather than commit these gaffs.)
1. “I couldn’t find your book anywhere.”
Oh, pluhleeez. With all the mystery bookstores, chain outlets and online resources available today . . . no nominated book is that difficult to find.
2. “What was your name?”
3. “Oh? You were a nominee?”
4. “Why would anyone nominate YOU?”
Now that I’ve got that out of my system here are some great phrases to use. Any one of them will work with most authors:
BEFORE THE WINNER IS ANNOUNCED
1. “Congratulations.”
2. “I voted for you.” (This works even if you’re lying.)
(Another nice line is: “You deserve it” which implies that the nomination wasn’t simply a miscalculation. Believe me, we writers are an insecure group. Ask me what I said to the Awards chair when she called to tell me about the honor in the first place.)
3. “I love your books. When’s the next one coming out?”
4. “I can get you on OPRAH/CHARLIE ROSE/THE TODAY SHOW”
(This one works for any major media outlet.)
TEN SECONDS – TEN MINUTES AFTER THE WINNER IS ANNOUNCED
1. “Oh, I wish you’d won.”
2. “I love your books. When’s the next one coming out?”
3. “What an incredible honor to be nominated.” (Note the lack of the word “Just” as in “What an incredible honor JUST to be nominated.” Somehow that little word can negate the phrase to an author who’s licking her ego-wounds a tad.)
4. “The vote was fixed.”
5. “I’ve got a call in to my friend at the OPRAH/CHARLIE ROSE/THE TODAY SHOW.”
THE NIGHT OF THE LOSS
1. “Oh, I wish you’d won.”
2. “I love your books. When’s the next one coming out?”
3. “What an incredible honor to be nominated.”
4. “Would you like a drink?”
5. “Let me buy you a drink.”
6. “You should have won.”
7. “Wow. Is your glass empty already? Let me buy you a drink.”
8. “My friend at the OPRAH/CHARLIE ROSE/THE TODAY SHOW wants to talk to you tomorrow.”
THE DAY, WEEK, MONTH, YEAR, DECADE AFTER THE LOSS
The thing here is to avoid pity. The finalist has now – probably – come to terms with the loss. Still, a bit of ego massaging and friendly support never hurts.
1. “Congratulations.”
This remains an elegant and simple response.
2. “You should’ve won.” “I voted for you.”
I’m sorry, but these will never stop feeling good – and they in no way imply that the winner didn’t deserve the award.
3. “I buy all of your books as soon as they come out.”
4. “I hope you liked the box of chocolates (or bottle of Glenlivet) I sent.”
5. “Oprah still says you were the best interviewee she ever had.”
THANK YOU
Since I didn’t get to say it on stage . . . I want to take a moment to thank everyone who nominated and voted for me at Malice last year and this year. It was – and remains – and incredible honor.
I hope to give you many more reasons to feel my writing deserves your accolades in the future.
Cheers,
Pari
I’ll Tell Ya, I Don’t Get No Respect
Jeffrey Cohen
“Because they laugh at (comedians), I don’t think people understand how essential we are to their sanity.”–Groucho Marx
ARLINGTON, VA–The Malice Domestic mystery conference, which is held once a year in celebration of mayhem, murder, sleuthing and, apparently, hats, is always a pleasure to behold. Rarely does one get a chance to visit with actual readers (book signings don’t count, especially since in my case, nobody ever shows up) and find out what they like about your work, and other things. Especially wonderful this year were the generous comments about Murderati. I’m glad you’re out there reading it. Don’t ever stop letting us know what you think.
But that’s not what I’m posting about today. You didn’t think I’d stay gracious for a whole post, did you?
Saturday morning, I participated in a panel entitled (if memory serves): The Role of Humor in Mystery. There was a subtitle about Mirth Among the Murders or something like that, but I don’t pay attention to such things, as the subtitles to my non-fiction books will attest. They’re each about 400 words long, and in some cases, longer than the first chapter of the book.
But I digress.
One of the topics raised at the panel (which was a hoot, by the way, and you should have been there), addressed by the likes of Karl Fieldhouse, Jeff Marks, the lovely and talented Parnell Hall, Barbara Workinger, our very own Ms. Denise Dietz (who moderated beautifully) and Sheri Cobb South–who isn’t fooling anyone with that accent; we know she’s from Britain–was:
Why isn’t humor recognized with awards? Why is humor considered a less prestigious sub-genre? Why, indeed, are some authors advised not to even mention the word “funny” in relation to their work?
Those of us who traffic in humor will tell you: we’re the Rodney Dangerfields of literature. I’ll tell ya, we don’t get no respect. No respect at all. (You can imagine me pulling manically on my tie, if I wore ties: I consider it one of the perks of being a freelance writer that I virtually never have to wear a tie.)
Why not? When the literary world looks down upon genre authors, and some genre readers look down on mystery, why is the humorous mystery considered even more inconsequential?
The best comedy seems natural, spontaneous and worst of all, effortless. When it’s done right, comedy is something that doesn’t seem to be forced, that happens as an organic outgrowth of the situation and the character involved. If you can see the sweat and tears that went into its creation, it probably doesn’t work. This leads to a number of popular misconceptions, not the least of which is that comedy is EASY.
Um, no, it’s really not.
If I were to write a serious mystery that didn’t hit the mark, it might be reviewed as a less-than-stellar effort, something that doesn’t “transcend the genre,” (as if the genre needed transcending), an interesting misfire.
In other words, a mediocre drama can still be seen as something with at least potential value. An interesting failure; a noble effort. But if one attempts to do comedy and everything doesn’t work right, it dies. A horrible death. There is nothing louder than silence where laughter is intended.
But when comedy is done well, when the seams don’t show and the actors seem to be making up their dialogue as they go, it is still considered in some way a lesser art form. Name the last comedy to win an Academy Award for best picture (okay, it was SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (1998), but that’s beside the point). Now, think about how long it was before that. (ANNIE HALL, 1977.) So once every 20 years someone makes a really good comedy?
This is not a plea for awards. I don’t think that because my books make (some) people laugh, that they should automatically be given an Edgar, an Agatha, or a Morris, for that matter. But the idea of awarding something that works at being funny shouldn’t be outlandish. Left Coast Crime has an award for the funniest mystery of the year, and that’s great. But is it too much to ask that comedy should be on equal footing with drama? Is it somehow inferior, and therefore in need of separation in order to be noticed? Is We’ll Always Have Parrots really a worse book than The DaVinci Code?
Here at Malice (you knew I’d get back to Malice, didn’t you?) the book reviewer Maureen Corrigan, who writes for the Washington Post and reviews on NPR, spoke on the great elements of mystery writing, and I asked her why “humorous” mysteries (I HATE that word!) don’t get no respect. She said–am I’m paraphrasing–that sometimes authors get so caught up in being funny that the humor sits down on the plot, or seems contrived. I agree. That’s BAD comedy writing. Corrigan said, refreshingly, that she thinks it’s very difficult to write humor well, and she appreciates it when it is a function of character and when, in other words, the writer is good at it.
So maybe we get a little respect. But not that much.
By the way, in the introduction to the Humor in Mystery panel, Ms. Dietz said (with my approval, so I’m not complaining) that “Jeffrey Cohen is the author of the Stephanie Plum series, and a multimillionaire. In order to keep his adoring fans at bay, he has created the pseudonym Janet Evanovich.”
All I’d like to say is, we were just kidding, Janet. Honest.
ON THE BUBBLE with STEPHEN BOOTH
STEPHEN BOOTH needs little introduction, but because I adore
this man, I’d like to take a moment and laud (I love that word) him. A master
storyteller of six absolutely riveting books whose setting in the Peak District
of England rivals that of Poe and any ‘dark and stormy night’ you can imagine!
From BLACK DOG-#1 to his current THE DEAD PLACE-#6 (in pbo in the U.K.-which we
won’t get here in the colonies until next year), this is a series with few
peers. And with much deftness, he has created a duo –Ben Cooper and Diane Fry –
that you will loathe to leave the moment you reach the last page. By the way –
ONE LAST BREATH-#5 will be out in the U.S. on July 26th. Don’t miss it!
I could go on and on, but I know you’re anxious to meet this
amazing man and put some serious questions to rest. So, on to a few rumors
being bandied around about Stephen Booth-
EE: Any truth to the buzz that the inventor of the Dyson
vacuum cleaner is pressuring you to replace the British term ‘hoovering’ used
to describe vacuuming-for ‘dysoning’ in your next book?
SB: Strangely, vacuuming hasn’t featured much in my
books up to now. Or in my life generally, come to think of it. So I checked
with my wife, who did see a vacuum cleaner once, and she insists that people
will always use ‘hoovering’, not some fancy, new-fangled word. But then, she’s
the sort of person who won’t use a phone unless it’s safely fixed to the wall
with a bit of wire.
Your wife is a wise woman. I don’t trust portable phones either. I still think
electricity is black magic too.
EE: I have it on good authority, Stephen, that Dame
Judi Dench is dying to get to know you better, yet you’ve not returned her many
emails. What does your wife think of this?
SB: I’ve gone off Judi ever since she played a Klingon
brothel keeper in Star Trek: The Next Degeneration. Besides, my wife has never
heard of email.
Well, I can’t blame you there. Judi was a bit tarty.
Best your wife doesn’t know.
EE: By the way, Stephen, is it true that Mad Max is
your all time favorite movie?
SB: No, it’s Bladerunner. More replicants, less Mel
Gibson.
Ah, yes! Bladerunner! A classic. So noir-ish. But
then, so is L.A.
EE: As a discerning author, please tell us which
writer you’d recommend to Oprah.
SB: Elaine Flinn – for her moving, sensitive story of a
young African-American girl growing up in 1940s Ohio. Or was that Toni
Morrison?
Uh, yes, Stephen-that was Toni Morrison. But I’ll
snip the first part and keep it for a blurb, okay?
EE: We all have Walter Mitty dreams, and your legion
of readers are dying to know yours. Just keep it clean, okay?
SB: All my life, I’ve dreamed of being an author, and
giving up the day job to write novels full-time. Wait a minute, though…
Huh? Uh, yes, dear – you’ve made it. Hasn’t anyone
told you yet?
EE: Get serious now, would you please? Who would you
love to do a book tour with? Why?
SB: Someone who might actually attract an audience. In
the UK, that would mean anyone who’s been on the telly – even if it’s only the
stupid bald bloke from Celebrity Love Island.
Listen to this man! Crowds follow him where ever he
goes! Why, you should have seen what I saw at Bcon in Toronto! The women just
wouldn’t leave him alone!
EE: I’ve been told that your descriptions of the
physical dangers of walking your beloved Peak District in your books are
calculated fabrications intended to keep Starbucks and tourists away. This is a
serious charge, Stephen and needs to be addressed.
SB: No, it’s all true. Those sheep are lethal.
Finally! The truth! But…do you think you can keep
the sheep under control? Starbucks might consider offering you the franchise. I
mean, you could whip up lattes between books.
EE: We’re dying to know, Stephen, which writers
would be on your ideal convention panel?
SB: I think I did that panel at Bouchercon once. Val
McDermid, Laurie King, Dana Stabenow. In fact, without me, it would have been
brilliant.
Ah, such humility! You know you were the main
attraction! And I have it on good authority you gave a stellar performance!
EE: What is the best selling book you wish you’d
written?
SB: Can I say The Da Vinci Code without becoming the
victim of a literary fatwa (‘Death to the infidel!’)? It seems to me that Dan
Brown has persuaded people to buy his books who’d never thought of buying a
book in their lives before. Also, I’ve noticed that my novels are right next to
his on that shelf in the bookstore. My new sales pitch is: "You liked Dan
Brown? Well, here’s another author whose name begins with a ‘B’ and is five
letters long, with an ‘o’ in the middle. Is that spooky, or what?"
Yes, you can say that with no fear of reprisal! But
not to worry about Dan. I always move your books in front of his at every
bookstore I visit.
EE: I know you to be the consummate gentleman, but
what’s this I hear about you dancing on the table at a private party at Left
Coast Crime in Bristol?
SB: Was that before, or after, the strip tease? It’s
all such a blur… Actually, since I’m teetotal, I never make a fool of myself at
conventions, I just egg other people on to do it. And some of those authors
don’t need much egging, I can tell you (photographs available for a small fee).
It was after the strip tease. So-you’ve got photo’s,
huh? Do you accept Pay Pal?
EE: Which writer would you love to have all to
yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at the next Bouchercon?
SB: J. A. Konrath, perhaps? Everyone knows he’s such a
shy, retiring young man.
Him?
EE: Talk on the street, Stephen, is that Posh is
writing her memoirs and has asked you to ghost for her and that Beckham is
frothing at the mouth and flexing his to-die-for abs.
SB: Okay, this is the woman who admits to never having
read a single book – not even the one she wrote herself? Well, she obviously
has good taste. As long as she agrees to tour with me, I’ll do it (well, she’s
been on the telly, you know).
You may need a few bodyguards. Maybe Lee and Barry
might volunteer?
EE: Rumor has it that Ben Cooper and Diane Fry ran
off and got married last fall but are afraid to let you know. How will you
manage to handle this? I mean, one of them will have to leave the department.
Might this be Ben’s chance for promotion?
SB: You know, this might just tie in with the plot of
the next book, in which Ben turns out to be Diane’s illegitimate love child,
and they both run away to live in a straw hut on the Moon with some talking
animals, until they meet a Klingon brothel keeper (played by Judi Dench), and
after that everything starts to go a bit weird…
Oh, hot stuff! This has legs! This has Best Seller
written all over it! Dan Brown will be placing his book over yours!
EE: This is a hot topic around the U.K., Stephen –
Any truth to the rumors that Bob Hoskins and Helen Mirren are besieging you to
pen a new and darker series using them as the main characters, but you’d rather
spend your free time working on the musical about the Kray brothers?
SB: Musicals are definitely my thing. Anyone who’s
heard me sing will know that I am to music exactly what the Kray brothers were
to rival gangsters. I can murder any song you name.
Then that haunting baritone voice I heard singing
‘Blues In The Night’ beneath my window at Left Coast in Monterey wasn’t you?
EE: And finally, the most asked about question in
Mysteryville! Just what do you plan to do with all those goats?
SB: Well, the boys have gone off to do their thing in
other parts of the country, so the goat population has stopped increasing,
thank God. We just have three ladies growing old gracefully in a corner of the
property, occasionally being fed strawberries and grapes, like ageing dowager
duchesses. They have to stay here now – if only because I get asked about them
wherever I go in the world!
Now, Stephen! We know how much you love those girls
– and how kind you are to them! Only a prince would treat them so royally. And
a prince you are!
Oh. Well, I was kinda hoping…well, never mind.
And not only is Stephen Booth a prince of a man, he is
one of the finest gentlemen in this wacky world of mystery. I had the very
great privilege to sit next to Stephen at my very first panel. I was nervous as
hell to be seated next to this incredible writer – and you know what? His
innate kindness made the ordeal feel like a picnic. I think I only stuttered
once. Thank you again, dear heart.
The Big Brush-Off
Rejection. The word connotes so many things to so many
people. Unrequited love, bad break-ups. Broken hearts, missed opportunities.
Unattainable goals. But to a writer, it means only one thing. Someone has
decided that your hard work and effort isn’t enough. Ouch. The good news is
we’ve all been there. Show me a writer without a rejection and I’ll show you my
three-headed monkey, Jacques, who does tricks for tequila shots.
Rejections come in all shapes and sizes. Most commonly for
Newbies, they are the purview of the dreaded SASE, the self-addressed stamped
envelope that accompany every submission. Newbies fret about SASE’s. We fret
about return addresses, postage, fonts. We fret about, well, anything and
everything that might turn off a prospective agent or publisher. The world of
publishing can be a mystical place when you aren’t familiar with the inner
workings.
I’ve got news for you. Sometimes, the rejection train
continues through the station. There are requests for partials that are
rejected. Entire manuscripts that are rejected. There is an ongoing process of
refusals and eliminations as a new writer searches for someone, anyone who will
say those magic words – “I’d like to represent you” and “Here’s your three-book
multi-million dollar pre-empt.”
Don’t forget that agents get rejections too. I imagine it’s
just as hard for an agent who falls in love with a project and can’t place it.
Just because you have an agent doesn’t mean that the train will never leave the
station again.
And I know you’ve heard it. We’ve all heard it. You aren’t a
real writer until you get a rejection. Okay, I’ll buy that. But I also believe
you aren’t a real writer if a rejection stops you from continuing to write.
There is nothing like your first rejection. Your fifth isn’t any easier. The
trick is – NEVER GIVE UP. Keep writing. Keep submitting. You must adapt and
conquer. You can’t let a rejection derail your process.
Two and a half years ago, I’d just finished my first book. I
was cocky, arrogant, certain that it was the best book ever written. I sent out
a ton of queries and received a ton of rejections. Ninety percent were form
letters – to which I sent a thank you note. Eight percent were directed to me
and addressed the manuscript directly – to which I sent a thank you note. One
percent were handwritten notes that really touched me – to which I sent a thank
you note. I figured that the least I could do was be polite, even if they
weren’t. Gave me a sense of having the upper hand, left me in control. Dumb,
but effective.
There was one yes. I danced in my kitchen, tears running
down my face. I called hubby, who didn’t answer. I called my parents and did my
Sally Field impression. Hubby called back. I married a practical man. He
promptly Googled said agency and informed me that they had issues. Like,
possible Preditors and Editors issues. The more we looked, the less enticing
the company seemed. Yes, they charged fees, but they were simple ones, copying,
etc. No, they weren’t a member of AAR, but they had an application in. No, they
wouldn’t let me see a list of writers they represented. I hemmed and hawed and
decided that as much as I wanted to have an agent, maybe they weren’t right for
me.
They did one great thing, though. They read the manuscript
and told me, flat out, that while the writing was great, there was nothing in
the story that set it apart from the rest of the market. Major ouch. Once I got
over the sting, I had to admit they were right. I was reading voraciously then,
getting into new writers and series. I realized that nope, I wasn’t the
greatest. But I could work hard and try to be the greatest. I scrapped all but
the opening scene and wrote a new book.
That got a couple of whopper rejections too.
I’ve been very lucky. I haven’t had a major rejection in a
while. Several small ones, but the last real doozy was right before I landed my
agent. A friend got that 2nd manuscript in front of a major NY
editor. Noises were made that said editor really liked the way it was going. I thought
I was in, that this was the one. NOT. I received a kind, flattering note that
explained, in real terms, why the manuscript didn’t work. I was, as I always am
when I receive word like that, heartbroken. I went through all of the
appropriate emotions. Pity. Bleak, melancholy periods of cheerless funk.
Peeved, persecuted, unwanted. Unloved.
Okay, so it wasn’t that bad. Yes, it smarts when someone you
really want to work with says no. But there’s usually a reason. Once I was over
my fit of pique, I re-read the editor’s suggestions. I realized that they were
spot-on. They addressed a couple of issues that I too had with the manuscript.
So I rewrote it. I worked hard on the issues the editor raised. I found my
independent reader and got her perspective, then edited some more. I redid my
synopsis, my elevator pitch got tightened, I made the manuscript and its
presentation the very best it could be. And I landed an agent. Who promptly,
enthusiastically sent the manuscript out – and received a handful of rejections.
It seemed that this particular manuscript just wasn’t meant to be.
So I wrote a new one. Same characters, a continuation if it
became a series, stand alone if it didn’t. Jury’s still out on this one.
My point is, while you must never give up, sometimes, you
have to start over. If you’ve gotten 40 rejections on your manuscript, all form
letters, no requests for partials, something may be wrong with your query. If
you’ve sent out a 40 partials and are still getting rejections, rethink what
you’re sending. The first 30 pages have to grab the reader. Hell, if you can’t
catch their interest within the first five, you’ve got problems. If your
partials, or fulls, are being returned with regularity, you might just have to
start over.
My feeling is you can always go back to an earlier
manuscript. Forward momentum makes a writer, not the number of rejection slips
amassed.
Time for the amateur psychology.
To that end, revel in your rejections. Recognize that they
aren’t a reflection of you personally. Most times, they simply represent
material that an agent or publisher hasn’t fallen in love with. Write them
something new that they will.
Rejection Do’s and Don’ts
Do – Give yourself permission to be upset when a
rejection comes. If a piece of chocolate or an ice cream cone will make you
feel better, then have it. Enjoy a drink with friends. Be social.
Don’t – Comfort yourself with destructive behaviors,
like going out on the town and ending up blowing in a tube. It’s just a
rejection letter, not the end of the world.
Do – Go for a walk.
Don’t – Burn your manuscript, shred your notes, and
delete all the files on your computer. Seriously.
Do – Take a day off from writing and read a book.
Don’t – Call all your friends and tell them you’ve
decided not to be a writer anymore.
Do – Step away from the computer for a few hours,
allow yourself a break from the cycle.
Don’t – Call the originator of your rejection to ask
why they didn’t like your project. Really, that’s just not a good idea.
Do – Reorganize your office.
Don’t – Quit writing.
Do – Something productive that will allow you to feel
better. My personal favorite? Staples therapy. New pens always put me in a
better mood.
Don’t – Give up. We’ve all been there. Commiserate
for a day, then get back to it.
There will be more rejections in your life. But if you
persevere, there will be bigger triumphs in the end.
Wine of the Week – Straccali Chianti DOCG
PS — Check out Demolition’s Spring 2006 Issue featuring "The Females of Noir" and read my short story, X .
Cover Me
A usual bone of contention amongst authors is with their book covers. The publisher’s vision is never that of the author’s and why don’t the publishers listen? There are some great books out there with appalling jacket covers.
The cover of my first book, Accidents Waiting To Happen, came out okay. It was respectable, but no one saw the knockdown, drag out fight that I had with the publisher over what they proposed. I won’t go into details, but I would have been embarrassed to see it on the shelves. Our discussions got so heated that the publisher ignored my requests to see the final artwork, which left me to live on my nerves for a number of weeks while I waited to see if the publisher had listened to me. To my relief, they had.
Things changed for my second book, Dragged Into Darkness. I was with a different publisher and they listened to me. I got the author’s dream ticket when it came to cover design. They let me pick my artist and the artist liked my concept for the cover. It was great to work with an artist. I got to see him experiment with my idea and develop his own vision from that. Needless to say, I was very happy with the end result.
Working Stiffs is around the corner now and I love the stylized cover Blue Cubicle came up with. The best part was that I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it. The publisher has a distinct concept for the cover and they pursued it, but the publisher had no intention of sharing it with me. It was to be a surprise. I should have been nervous, but I wasn’t, mainly because I trusted the publisher. They’d been great to work with (and I’m not brownnosing here) and I believed in them. And to my delight, the surprise was a good one. I don’t think I could have envisioned anything better.
So my opinion is changing when it comes to cover design. I don’t want to be involved too much and this change isn’t because of how Blue Cubicle treated me. This has been a gradual change over the last year or so. Not long after Dragged Into Darkness went into print, I changed my mind about the cover design used. I had a different idea for the cover and it soured my opinion of the one printed. Also, I know a couple of cover artists and after seeing some of the amazing work that they’ve created without the interference of the author, I’ve decided that it’s not my place to interfere. Just because I wrote the novel doesn’t mean I’m the chief consultant on all things on the book. If I were so damn great, I wouldn’t need editors to tell me where I’ve gone awry.
The problem is that as a writer, you’re the creator and as such you want total control of your creation. Well, aren’t we a jumped up little breed? Don’t let it be said writers don’t have a God complex.
Wanting to have total control is fine, but I think I’ll drive myself crazy if I keep that up. So I’m of the mind that I should let people do their jobs. I’ll do the writing, the publishers can do the publishing and the artists can do the arting.
So from now on, I’m not going to sweat it. The book cover can be anything. It’s not my department.
What’s that? You want to do what with the next book? No. Never. Over my dead body! Well, I’d like to see you try that.
My Big, Phat Debut Book Launch
Every debut novel deserves a big, phat launch, and I’ll tell you why.
First of all, you’ve accomplished something you’ve never done before–so celebrate. Secondly, if you’ve been toiling away at the book for five, 10, or 15 years (moi), you’ve probably collected a lot of friends along the way who’ve been anticipating this very day. And a first only comes one time; it can never be repeated.
I have a certain philosophy about launches, resulting from two lightbulb moments. One came when I attended a talk by Walter Mosley at the L.A. Times Festival of Books. After a brief reading of new upcoming book, he went into self-proclaimed P.T. Barnum mode in front of the 500-plus crowd. He announced that he would bestow the galley (advanced reading copy) to someone and called out a random seat number. Everyone turned around to see the number on the back of his or her seat, a shriek, and then the awarding of the galley. Ah, I told myself. Walter Mosley is into fun. I had been a community journalist for a number of years, forced to go to hundreds of rubber chicken dinners that, for the most part, were not fun. I vowed at that point that I make my book events something that people wanted rather than felt obligated to go to.
The second lightbulb moment came when I was speaking to a Japanese editor at my newspaper who had worked at a daily in Hokkaido for decades. He explained to me that the circulation was plummeting at his former paper. To combat this trend, the management went into an aggressive sales campaign. All employees, including editors and reporters, were called upon to participate in a contest to obtain the most new subscriptions. Prizes included appliances, such as a washer and dryer. The campaign worked, and the paper established more stable financial footing.
This concept could never be effectively adopted at an American newspaper, in which the line is more clearly delineated between editorial and advertising/business. But somehow the idea of recruiting a volunteer sales staff stayed with me.
I’m preparing for the launch of my third mystery right now, but I’ll never forget the party for my first. SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI was released in the spring of 2004 and I was all about having fun. Fun for my circle includes food, conversation, surprises, and inter-generational activities. Since I had done some nonfiction books for a local museum in L.A., that venue was a natural choice. And since the museum had a bookstore, all the better. Wherever you may have your launch, you’ll want a bookstore involved. That way people will be familiar with the location and can easily go back for more books.
The BIG BACHI book launch was part of the museum’s calendar of events–the institution provided tables, chairs, table cloths, and drinks. I wanted people to talk to one another, so the museum put out round tables. Family (thank you, Mom) and wonderful friends brought in homemade food, potluck-style. We also purchased trays of sushi from a local grocery store.
Many of my friends have young children, so I needed to factor that into
the mix. The answer came in the form of a family friend who’s a professional magician. He and another friend, a shakuhachi (Japanese flute) player, roamed the crowd before and after the program, so that no one felt bored or restless. A writing group I belonged to co-sponsored the reading and paid for some of the entertainment expenses. Although I’ve never applied myself, Sisters in Crime as well as Poets & Writers offer reading grants; they need ample lead and promotion time, so it’s never too early to start investigating those funding opportunities.
At the end, in Walter Mosley-like fashion, were door prizes. These included inexpensive and silly objects that were either mentioned in or related to my first book: a twenty-pound bag of rice, garden house, children’s garden gloves, and a deck of cards.
It was fun and it was phat. Close to 200 people attended and approximately 250 books sold. And I will never have a book event so elaborate again, but still try to always incorporate fun in every event I do.
Later, looking back at my debut launch, I realized that the party helped to recruit my volunteer sales staff to spread the word of mouth to their circle of acquaintances. ("What did you do this weekend?" "Oh, I went to this big, phat book party.") Most of us newbies aren’t going to start off with a touring or a large advertising budget, so you’ll be depending largely on the support and kindness of friends and relatives. Hopefully, with the second, third, and successive books, you’ll have widened your audience far beyond people you know. But some faithful members of that first volunteer workforce will stick by you with each book. You’ve expended a lot of time and creativity in producing that published work, savor the experience in releasing it to your readers.
If you are planning your first book launch, give us some details about your book, your circle of contacts, and what city you’ll be having your party. Maybe the collective minds at Murderati or I will have some ideas we can throw your way in a future blog entry! Use the comments feature or send us an e-mail.
MORE SPAM: From Elaine Yamaguchi of Woodland, California: ". . . there is just nothing better than Spam fried rice with a nice fried egg on top. The yolk should still be runny. Mmmmm." She also included a step-by-step recipe, which will be posted at a later date. See the website on how to submit your entry to the inaugural Mas Arai Spam Contest!
NEXT WEDNESDAY’S L.A. MIX: It’s all about the L.A. Times Festival of Books, baby!
Photos by Dean Hayasaka
QUIBBLES & BITS
It has come to my attention that my friends don’t know if/when I’m blogging. My first hint was when I received several emails that said: "When are you planning to start blogging, Deni?"
I think the confusion is my AKA, Beatrice Brooks. I posted her photo, rather than mine, because Bea is younger, the camera loves Bea, she’s thinner, and when she doesn’t have a potty mouth, she’s funnier.
So, from now on I’ll blog as Deni Dietz and introduce Bea when she posts.
My Quibbles & Bits today is "Pros and Cons."
This Thursday at 4:45 p.m. I’ll be landing at National Airport, then taking the shuttle to the Crystal Gateway Marriott for a mystery conference called Malice Domestic. Upon arriving, I’ll hug all the authors and fans I haven’t seen since . . . my last conference.
Why attend a conference at all?
For a midlist author it’s not (and I hate this word) "cost-effective." I sign lots and lots of books at conferences, but my royalties on book sales will barely cover one and a half good meals, much less airfare and hotel . . . so why go?
The answer, for me, is simple. I want to put my fingers on the pulse of the fans. Not just my fans, THE fans. Sure, I can do that on the ‘net, but I’ll tell you something "funny," and, of course, this is just MY opinion, MY theory. I belong to several mystery loops that aren’t "genre specific." They aren’t cozy loops or thriller loops or hard-boiled loops, or stick-it-up-your-jumper loops. I write three series with amateur sleuths. I call them "amateur slueth mysteries."
Some people call my books traditional mysteries, some call them whodunits, some call them "witty psychological thrillers" (a designation I made up to sell my first series, upon learning that editors don’t like the word "funny"), and some call them cozies. But what I’ve noticed is that the people who read books titled "Death By Crochet Hook" (or CHAIN A LAMB CHOP TO THE BED) tend to lurk on mystery loops. And when they do post, for the most part they sound defensive or apologetic. I wish I had a dollar for every post that begins: "I usually don’t read woo woo (cozies, humor, cat/dog/parrot mysteries) but . . ."
Years ago, a friend said (slurred), "Denise, why don’t you stop writin’ all that crap an’ write the Great American Novel?" I said, "Define the Great American Novel."
My answer today might be, "Because there are very few conferences for Great American Novelists, and I desperately need my conference fix."
Last Sunday Jeff Cohen wrote a hilarious, albeit perceptive, blog about conference panels, so I won’t go there. All I’ll say is that, as the moderator for the "Humor in Mysteries" panel, this Saturday at Malice, I don’t plan to ask, "Where do you get your ideas?" or "How long does it take you to write a book?" or even "Why don’t you stop writing all that crap and write the Great American Novel?"
My questions will be more along the lines of: "As humorous crime writers, could you have a future as a stand-up comic?" Or: "What’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you at a booksigning?"
Come to think of it, I have a bazillion answers to that one!
So does Bea.
Over and out,
Deni
Gotcha! Being interviewed by the media
I have a friend who sold her book for a news-grabbing sum of money. She’s a former reporter and was mortified when her peers misquoted, misrepresented, and even made up things in their articles about her.
Poor dear, she wasn’t thinking like a PR pro at first. Believe me, she is now.
When I’ve written features in the past, I’ve preferred to craft upbeat pieces for publication. I know other journalists with the same aims: to find and write interesting, informative stories. But there’s another beast in the news business: the reporter who believes dirt is more interesting than Ivory Soap. This animal is always looking for the Gotcha! It’s that moment when a reporter smiles, knowing she’s got an unanticipated tidbit to run with, and the interviewee’s guts turn to mush.
Here are some tips when you’re talking with a reporter you don’t know, don’t know to trust, or don’t trust based on his or her previous work:
1. Know what you want to say. No matter how smart you are, winging it is just stupid.
2. Be in control. This doesn’t mean you grab the mike from a reporter. Au contraire, know the image you want to convey and then figure out how you want to do it. Otherwise you’re at the mercy of someone who may not have your best interests at heart.
3. Don’t prattle. The reporter is not your friend.
4. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS “OFF THE RECORD.”
5. You can record a phone conversation or interview if you’re concerned about being misquoted. Just inform the reporter or writer.
6. Don’t ask to review a story before publication; it’s offensive to the reporter and won’t serve you well.
7. Develop talking points — two to five items that you always come back to—to keep control of the interview.
8. Practice and role-play to become accustomed to quick questions and to ensure you don’t say things that can be horribly misinterpreted or make you sound like a dope.
9. Use your mirror and a practice audience to critique your answers and how you deliver them (extra “ums” and “uhs” are as bad as looking away from the reporter in what could be construed as evasion).
10. Hire a media trainer or consultant if you’re in a position where you’ll be interviewed on television more than once – or nationally (wouldn’t that be nice?). There are former reporters in most communities that run workshops or consult for a fee. Insist they bring television cameras, lights, a big mike and a bad attitude — to put you through your paces.
I’m not trying to make you paranoid here. Even pros forget some of these rules.
When BELEN came out, I had an interview with a reporter in Belen, NM. I blew off every one of these rules and ended up with a nasty feature article – front page in the paper.
That’s once.
Although the public doesn’t remember many things, a bad news story usually sticks around a lot longer than a good one. Don’t mess up for lack of preparation. Don’t give any reporter the satisfaction of a Gotcha!
A Panel Discussion
With the Malice Domestic conference starting this coming Friday (and please, say hi if you see me there!), perhaps this is the time to discuss the importance of panels. No, not the panels that are hugging the walls of your den, or the ones that apparently wear blue ribbons and tell the government how it can screw up less often, but are never taken seriously. No, I mean the panels that a convention attendee might… attend… to hear a discussion on some aspect of the mystery publishing biz.
These generally have a topic that’s relatively open-ended, like “If Your Sleuth Owns a Cat,” “If Your Sleuth Is A Cat” or “Hard Boiled Vs. Cozy: What’s With the Cats?” A group of (usually) authors (sometimes) editors and (very occasionally) agents discusses the topic at length—for 50 minutes—and then takes questions, assuming there are any.
Panels can be a great deal of fun, can sometimes be informative, and are a swell way to rest your feet after traipsing around the convention all day. They’re great for authors, because we get to hawk our work ruthlessly (without any ruth at all) and hopefully introduce ourselves to readers who might not have heard of us before.
Authors love being on panels, and try very hard to get a good spot at the convention. There is much talk among authors about what time of day, which day and in what room each one’s panel might be held. The one thing you can count on is that no matter which day, time or room the author has been assigned, they will believe it to be a lousy one.
(I hasten to add here that the panel I’ll be on at Malice, with my blogmate Denise Deitz acting as moderator, is exactly the one I’ve always hoped I’d be on, the time is swell and I have no idea what the room looks like, aside from the fact that it’ll have four walls and some chairs. It’s called The Role of Humor in Mysteries, it will take place at 10 a.m. Saturday with my fellow panelists Parnell Hall, Karl Fieldhouse, Jeffrey Marks, Sheri Cobb South and Barbara Workinger, and I sincerely hope that if you’re in the area, you’ll drop by. Every word in this paragraph is sincere.)
If you’ve never participated in a mystery convention panel, let me give you a quick look at the process going on inside the author’s head while the panel is going on. It’s less a stream of consciousness than a tidal wave of self-consciousness, but it’s reasonably accurate, give or take some exaggeration:
I wonder why they seated me on the end. It’s because nobody’s ever heard of me; I know. There are at least 50 readers out there, right now, asking themselves who that curly haired guy with the beard on the end is. “Cohen? Jeffrey Cohen? Isn’t that my dentist’s name? Or was that the guy I went to grammar school with, the one who’s an accountant now?” That’s what they’re thinking. It’s because I’m on the end.
Damn. I shouldn’t have worn this jacket. The sleeves are weird—too long, or too short, or something. Stop playing with your cuffs! People are watching you! And now they’re wondering who the curly haired guy with the beard is, and why he won’t stop playing with his cuffs.
The other authors on this panel look a lot more relaxed than I am. Look at them. That guy actually brought six of his books—six! And all his books stand up so well on the dais. People can see the titles and everything. How come my book won’t stand up? Does his publisher use better cover stock than mine?
Smile! People are looking! You don’t want them to think you’re not happy to be here, do you? But don’t smile too much! They’ll think of you as the grinning jack o’ lantern, and the next thing you know, you’re the curly haired bearded guy with the itchy cuffs who looks like a jack o’ lantern.
The moderator’s introducing me. Nod to the audience with a friendly smile. Friendly, not psychopathic! Pretend to be modest about your meager accomplishments. Aw, pshaw. That’s it.
Damn! That other author stole the line I had prepared! Now what am I going to say when they ask me a question? What made me think I could come up here and just wing it?
What? Oh, a question. Speak, but don’t hog the microphone. This isn’t the Jeff Cohen Show, you know (not that it would be such a bad idea… ). Easy, there. You don’t want to come across as egotistical. Hey, this is actually enjoyable. Ask me another question.
Who’s that in the front row? She seems to be smiling in my direction. Is it someone I’m supposed to remember? I’m terrible at faces. I hope she’s wearing a name tag if she comes up after the panel. But then, if I stare at it, she’ll wonder 1) if I’m a pervert and 2) how come I’m looking at her name tag when I should remember who she is. Either way, I’m…
What? Oh, sorry. Another question. They’re asking everyone on the panel for an answer, and I wasn’t listening to the first two! Suppose I say the same thing!
Stop playing with your cuffs!
Oh man: I’ve answered two questions and I haven’t mentioned the name of my book! Nice marketing there, pal. Now, how am I going to work it into a question about the role of cats in mysteries? There are no cats in my book! Wait, though: there is a dog. Two dogs. Maybe I can work it in that way.
Damn! That guy is being funnier than me! I hate that! I’m supposed to be the funny one, right? Who asked him to step in? Okay, so the people who run the convention did, but that’s beside the point! If I’m not the funny one, which one am I?
Oh, yeah: “the curly haired bearded one with the cuffs who grins like a jack o’ lantern and isn’t that funny. And what was the name of his book, again? I don’t think he’s mentioned it. I’d write it down off the cover, but the thing won’t stand up for more than two seconds at a time.”
I’m trying to listen, really! This is actually a very interesting topic, but I’m so caught up in projecting an image that I’m forgetting to be part of the group. It’s time for the audience questions. I hope someone asks one I can answer.
Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. Yes, I can understand why you’d ask that author a question first. She’s sold tons more books than I have. What am I even doing on a panel with her, anyway? And him, and her, down in the last chair! I’m way outclassed! I should be on a panel about “Authors Who Deservedly Toil in Obscurity.”
What? A question for me? Answer spontaneously—don’t think about it. Hey! I got a laugh! They liked it! This is getting to be fun, now!
What do you mean, it’s over? We were just getting started! Oh, all right. Stand up, shake hands with the other panelists, head toward the signing area, where you can examine the complex workings of a ballpoint pen while the others sign books for the hordes of devoted fans who will show up at their tables. It’s been fun. Say thank you to the moderator, who really did a swell job. Talk to a few audience members.
And stop playing with your cuffs!