The LadyKillers

Perseverance--and more!

Last August I got the call I had been waiting for—waiting, it seemed, for most of my life. My agent, Gail Fortune, who had been stubbornly sending out my manuscript for two years (!) called to say that she had received not one, but two offers to publish the first two books in my Samuel Craddock series.

Finally my perseverance had paid off. Everyone said so. Although I smiled in agreement what I secretly knew is that it took a lot more than perseverance.

In the late eighties and early nineties I wrote one book after another and snagged one fabulous agent after another, each of whom would at the end of a year send my torn and tattered manuscript back with, “close, but no cigar.”

After my son, Geoff, started school I decided to take time off from the rejection cycle to spend my time being a mom. I wrote school newsletters, articles and copy for annual reports. And I wrote some fiction, but I didn’t send anything out. When Geoff was a senior in high school, it was time to gear up again. I wrote a new book, and started looking for an agent. But in ten years, how the publishing world had changed! Before, I had easily found agents. This time, even an agent eluded me. Although I got several nibbles, there were no offers of representation.

Back to the drawing board. And eventually to publication. So what happened that eventually made the difference? It was that I started taking myself seriously and learning—about the craft of writing, about current fiction trends, how the publishing world was evolving, and how to find people who could help. Before, I had simply trusted to luck and instinct to find my way to publication. Now I realized it would take a lot more. I read books about writing, where I got gems of advice that I could use to make the next book even better.

You can learn a lot from books about writing and publishing. But nothing is better than talking to fellow-writers. I attended workshops and writers’ conferences, and joined a critique group. I talked to other writers who had written one book after another before they got published--and I listened to what they did to improve. I learned to do the tedious work of targeting my audience—sending my work to agents who were interested in the kind of book I write. It took a lot of time and effort, but this time when I found an agent, I knew she liked the kind of book I wrote. Instead of returning my manuscript after a year, she kept working to find it a publishing home.

With the current publishing climate, I had to make the decision whether I still wanted to go through a traditional publisher or strike out on my own. Was it perseverance, stubbornness, or fear that kept me going after a traditional publisher? Probably a little of each. I knew that whichever way I chose, I still had to perfect my craft, make my book as good as it could be and target my audience.

Bottom line: I learned to take myself seriously as a professional. I did the hard work of making my book the best it could be in terms of craft. I did the hard work of finding good beta readers, and finding the right agent for me. So in the end, it wasn’t just that I persevered, but that I kept learning.

And finally, I’m there….Oh not quite! Now I am finding there is one more learning curve—promotion and marketing. A whole new bag of tricks.

Adventures in Outlining

by Margaret Lucke

Some writers swear by outlines. Some writers swear at them. 

I've done both.

For my most recent novel, House of Whispers, I wrote a detailed outline. The publisher requested a synopsis, and the only way I could see to come up with one for a book I hadn't written yet was to figure out the whole story, scene by scene, and then condense it into a couple of pages. Developing the outline was hard work. It made my brain hurt. But once it was finished, writing the book went quickly and smoothly, and the creative pleasure didn't diminish at all. It was fun to add flesh to the bare bones of the story and bring it life. I was more than willing to change the outline if the story turned out to require that, but it didn't prove necessary.

The follow-up book, House of Desire, resisted every effort I made to outline it. So I plunged in, discovering the story as I wrote it. I can see why this approach might appeal to an author. The theory is that if you don't plan it in advance, the story will retain its freshness and its ability to surprise. True enough, but for me, not knowing what was going to happen next has proved to be a burden. I've just finished the first draft, which took much longer than I anticipated. The plot kept veering off in unexpected directions, which meant that much of what I set up at the beginning never played out, while the eventual resolution was never set up. I have a big rewrite ahead of me.

I had the best of both worlds when wrote my first mystery, A Relative Stranger. I came up with a three-stage technique that I call the 1-2-3 outline. My plan was to plot out the novel in some detail, but by the time I'd figured out a third of the story, I'd grown impatient to begin writing. I was eager to see the characters in action, to see my vision take shape on the page. I put aside my outline and wrote several chapters.

Soon I reached uncharted territory. Writing grew difficult. I couldn't move forward because I didn't know what happened next. So I outlined another chunk. Satisfied that I'd reestablished my sense of direction, I wrote those chapters. Finally, I plotted the ending and completed the first draft. Later I read about the three-act story structure that screenwriters and some novelists use, and realized I'd stumbled on it instinctively.

This back-and-forth process, alternating stages of planning with stages of actually writing, worked well. It gave me control of the story while keeping it fresh, vital and open to surprise. It let me take advantage of serendipity--those fortuitous elements that the Muse slips into the story when you're not paying full attention, ideas that would never occur to you while outlining.

For example, early in A Relative Stranger, my detective Jess Randolph enters the murder victim's apartment. Her artist's eye is drawn to a painting on the wall. When I wrote the scene, the painting was just set decoration, a prop to give a tidbit of insight into both Jess and the victim. Imagine my surprise when, several chapters later, the painting was stolen in what turned out be a key twist of the plot. It was too minor a detail at first to surface in my mind during the planning phase. Had I outlined the book straight through, I wouldn't have known the painting was there, and I would have lost a valuable opportunity.

The lesson here, if there is one, is that what works for one author, or even for one book, might not work at all for another. To outline or not? It's  question that we all must answer on our own.

Ironing my way through a manuscript

-from Susan

I outline the way I iron – only when I’m desperate, drowning in piles of unsorted material, and unable to leave the house unless I do something drastic.

Of course, I start a book with a clear, simple premise. I know who gets killed, by whom, and why. In the three books I’ve finished so far, that hasn’t changed much. I may kill off more people, add nasty co-conspirators, and dig deeper into the rationale for the killing as I try to understand my killer. But I haven’t so far lost the thread of the original story in the writing.

At Malice Domestic, just ended, someone asked that question at the panel I participated in and, as usual, I cringed inwardly. I think I sound so haphazard, so unorganized, so downright careless when I try to answer. But the truth is that even as a kid in school, I couldn’t get the hang of the outline form. I’d start with I. Then, I.A. and before you knew it I was on I.A.1 and I.A.1.a. and  I.A.1.a.1) and… on page two before it occurred to me you need to have a II at some point. I get dizzy thinking about it. Come to think of it, I frequently get dizzy after ironing a half dozen blouses and pillowcases.

When I am completely entangled in a plot that has driven itself into a corner, I try various outlining methods shared by other writers more organized than I am. But that’s like trying to fit a blown up balloon back into the plastic pack it originally came in. Ultimately, I need to go back to the beginning, read the whole blasted thing with gritted teeth, and deal with it page by bloody page.

Not inspiring, is it? Not very helpful? I am sorry. The only aspect of this that seems to me – and other “pantsers” (as in seat-of-the-pants) – a possible upside is that we remain as intrigued by our stories as we hope our readers will be because we have no idea what will happen next!

The great cycle of life; pompous enough?

Writing at the end of the week is not easy.  Everyone else has covered the difficulties of beginning or ending a book or series.  However, I'm here to tell you that both have a way of reviving when least expected, so don't think that early work will ever be completely obliterated.

A few centuries ago, when I wrote my trilogy on Guinevere, I killed off everyone at the end.  I was tired of all of the characters.  So, what happened?  I was asked to write prequels, sequels and spin-offs.  I did do some short stories but at the time I felt I had said everything about the Arthurian world that I could. After thirty years, the darn things have never been out of print for more than a couple of years and are appearing again.

http://bellarosabooks.com/upcomingtitles.htm

Now, I'm grateful for this but I really think I could do a better job today and am thinking of telling the story from the point of view of Guinevere's parents, adrift in a dying society.  As with actors, embarrassed about early films, early books have a way of coming back to haunt. Paul Newman (no relation, darn it) was always embarrassed by his film debut in The Silver Chalice .the silver chalice

On the other hand, ealy books  are also like college photos, reminders of a time when I was young and had good knees and thought I could change the world.  And I wonder what someone who didn't know me now would think of the woman captured on film way back then. 

Beginnings?  Endings?  Not really.  We just go round and round.

Sharan on a Friday, looking forward to beginning another week or maybe just living in perpetual weekend.

 

The Best Pep Talk Ever

We’re going back to the days when manuscripts were sent out in hard copy. A year earlier I had landed Elizabeth George’s agent, and figured I was on my way. I had spoken with a couple of hot editors and they gushed that they couldn’t wait to read my book because the agent was absolutely the best. But one editor after another didn’t like the manuscript enough to bet on it. One said she loved the characters, didn’t care for the plot. Another said the plot was terrific, but…you get the picture.

One morning, my poor, tattered manuscript landed on my front doorstep like a dead rat with a curt letter from said agent, telling me that she had sent it out several times and nobody had picked it up. Essentially it was, goodbye and good luck.

I crawled into bed, stared at the ceiling, declared myself the worst failure ever—and then I called Judy Greber (aka Gillian Roberts). She was getting ready to go shopping at the Price Club (forerunner of Costco) and told me to meet her there. With both of us pushing giant carts around the warehouse, she commiserated about my rejection, plumped up my flagging ego, and finally said the magic words: If you keep going, there’s no guarantee that you’ll ever get published. But if you quit now, you’re guaranteed that you won’t!

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that theme song, but at that moment it gave me courage to move forward—to keep writing and sending out my work. After the next book, I landed another agent and started the process again. But life gets in the way sometimes. I quit trying to find a publisher for ten years when my son was young. Then, when he was in his senior year of high school, Judy’s word came right back to me: if you don’t try, you surely won’t succeed. I told myself to get moving! Go to a writers’ conference, join a writers’ group, then apply butt to chair and hands to keyboard, and create a shiny new book to send out.

         Eight years later, in July of this year my first book, A KILLING AT COTTON HILL will be published. I’m giving out a big salute to Judy and all my other writer pals who nudged me when I needed it. And I’m passing it on to other pre-published writers, or to writers who are having a discouraging period. Write, revise, send it out, repeat. The only thing guaranteed is that if you don’t, you won’t get published!

Heartless

When I first started writing mysteries my agent, Don Congdon, wasn't sure I could. "You know," he said. "In mysteries you have to write some people who are not very nice."

"I can do that!" I assured him.  But it was harder than I thought.  I kept thinking about why the murderer did it, wondering about their miserable childhood etc.  I needed to get tough.

Right.  The only villain I ever wrote who was totally irredeemable, I found in real life.

Once upon a time, I was doing research in the wilds of Burgundy.  I decided to stay the night at a very posh hotel in a small town on the pretext that it had once been a 12th century monastery.  It was November and only one other couple were staying there.

This couple sat across the restaurant that night, a man in his 50's and a woman in her 30's.  He apparently thought no one spoke English for he was speaking like an MP arguing against a proposal.

He was leaving his wife for his companion and spent the evening reminding her of all he was doing for her and what it would cost him and how grateful she should be.  At one point he got all maudlin about his poor little daughter.  The woman reponded with the only two words she said all evening.

"She's 28."

I looked at that man and knew I had found the perfect egomaniacal monster.  His wife was probably glad to be rid of him and his girlfriend would no doubt be a suicidal alchoholic within a year.

A different take on affairs of the heart but, if you write mysteries, there need to be people who aren't very nice.

The OOPS Cookie

 

There's a Café in Dublin, California, (address on request) that serves great food and even better cookies. Their specialty is their OOPS cookie. How convenient, Camille, you say, that you're eating one right now while the topic of the week for LadyKillers is OOPS. It's true as only real life can be true.

The cookie got its name (say the bakers) from the day the original recipe for peanut butter cookies was ruined when — OOPS — someone dropped chocolate chips into the batter. Eureka! They shouted (okay, here I'm making it up), "This batter is better."

And thus the OOPS cookie was born.

As I munched on the cookie last week at a much needed pre-Thanksgiving lunch at the Café, it occurred to me that a lot of my writing can be described as OOPS writing.   

As often as not, I'm writing along, chatting up a scene and — OOPS — something happens that I hadn't planned for. A character reacts badly to information, and it turns out he was hiding something. From me. Or a plot point turns north instead of south. Or I "see" something in a room I've described, and, lo, it's the murder weapon.

I've learned to not only embrace OOPSes, but to hope for them.

Letting Go of Not-Writing Rituals

You know how you eat too much turkey every year, or that third helping of mashed yams? You eat more than you want. You have to spend weeks speed-walking to lose the pounds gained in just a few days...and yet, next year, you do it all over again?

Well, it's possible to replace bad rituals with good, healthy ones. It's easier to replace a bad habit than just stop it--because that bad habit was doing something for you, or you wouldn't bother. I learned that while taking off 50 pounds this last year--white knuckling a problem can't last more than a few weeks, but replacing bad habits and rituals with good ones gets you working for yourself, instead of fighting yourself. 

I've developed a number of non-writing rituals over the years, but thanks to the help of friends, fellow writers and a shrink or two, am moving away from them. Here's some of my biggest non-writing rituals, and how I'm letting go of them.

1. Talking instead of writing. 

There's often a pre-writing period for any project. At this time, various parts of your brain toss an idea around. Your unconscious spits something up into your subconscious mind, manifesting as a vivid dream or 2:00 AM scribbled note. Then your conscious minds shakes the concept, bolts on a few temporary scaffolds, and dumps it back into the nether regions, rather like stones in a polishing barrel. Eventually something comes out that you can't ignore anymore, and you start writing things in permanent files on the computer.

During this vulnerable stage, I would often tell my husband all about my brilliant ideas. This drained my writing energy, and invited unqualified comments at a vulnerable stage. A writing mentor (thank you Mr. Landau!) mentioned this to me, and so now I write my stories instead of telling them. Like with any sudden change in behavior, I warned my husband what I was trying to do. Now he cheerfully busts me when I slip up.

2. Comparing myself to famous authors

This ritual is another way to cripple up my inner artist. Perhaps I was frightened of the commitment of being a writer, or the terror of being a failure, or just not used to how different my dream novel is from the one that ends up on the page. Whatever the real reason for self-injury, comparing myself to Robert Parker or Dashiell Hammett and finding myself wanting was a very effective non-writing ritual. After dwelling long enough on just all the ways I was deficient, it felt impossibly difficult to start a single sentence. 

Nowadays I try to notice if I'm scared, and give myself a mental hug instead of a mental beat-down. On especially bad days, a short stroll through my old writing is enough to convince me that I'm improving--and the only way to get better is to write more. Plus, I'm lucky enough to have friends who will remind me that nobody can be Robert Parker or Dashiell Hammett--and nobody can be me either. Comparisons are odious, as John Lydgate said (and Cervantes and Marlowe and Donne!).

3. Not Writing

This is the most insidious not-writing ritual of all. Every day that I don't write is a ritual exercise in not writing, and ritual can become astonishingly powerful with repetition--that's why we invented them, after all. Now, what "every day" means to you is undoubtedly different than what it means to me, and it is almost never literally seven days a week for anyone. But like any exercise, if you stop for a week--you've really stopped. Not writing has become your daily ritual. Of course there are times in life when you can't write--a sick loved one needs succor, an arduous book tour wakes you up at 6:00 AM and won't let you sleep until midnight, changing jobs eats all your creative and intellectual energy, or moving homes or survivng natural disasters. The big things can occasionally push you into not writing for a bit.

The best way to break out of this most powerful of rituals is, for me, the same way I broke out of a lifetime of poor eating habits. I learned them from the UCSF Nutrition folks. They are the habits of people who've lost 100 or more pounds and kept them off for five years or more, slightly modified for writing:

-- Write it down. Just like NaNoWriMo, log your writing hours, how you were feeling, how easy or hard it was to show up to the keyboard. Not as a form of punishment, but as data. Our memories are too kind, our rationalization powers very great. A good, honest log will help you ask the right questions--what happened last week? What did I make more important than my writing? Can I change that priority? 

-- Measure it. Using the scale regularly fights self-delusion. Check the size of your novel once a week. And don't punish yourself for missing goals, but adjust the goals, look for root causes when you fall short. Treat yourself kindly, like a doctor would. But don't ignore the facts.

-- Plan it. You don't eat healthy by accident. Just as I had to learn to plan a weekly menu, shop for only the things on my list, and develop my "no" muscle when the inevitable temptations arose, I had to plan my writing time. Every life has some complicating factor. For me, it's my challenging, changeable, and surprisingly stressful day job. Step one was that I had to start blocking out my calendar. No meetings before 9am, because I'm home writing from 5-7:30. No mid-week latenight adventures, because I can't get up at 5:00 AM if I went to bed at midnight the night before. 

I'm still getting to "done" with these replacement rituals. And I'm hoping to see my word counts rise just as I've seen my weight shrink and my health improve. If you want to drop-kick your non-writing rituals, try anything in this post and see if it works for you. You'll know when you're on to something. Just don't give up.

During this holiday season, I wish this for everyone--healthier rituals, more love and compassion, and time to enjoy the friends and family whom you love and cherish.

Career Advice: Free and Worth Every Penny

By Margaret Lucke

Being a writer is one thing, and a very good thing too. Many rewards can come from delving into your imagination and bringing forth a good story: insights, exercise for the imagination, the satisfaction of completing a worthwhile project, the delight of connecting with readers.

Making a career as a writer is something else entirely. It requires a commitment to the goal and the self-discipline to carry it out. There are lots of good reasons to write, and building a career is only one of them. Plenty of writers don’t have this need or desire, but in case you do, here are the steps to building a career.

This advice is free, so take it for what it’s worth -- I confess I don't always follow it myself. I leave it to you to decide whether it’s good, bad, or ugly.

1.  Write.  There's a saying among writers that goes, "I don’t want to write, I want to have written." Who wouldn't like to skip the hard work and go straight to popping open the champagne? But the fact is you can't truly write The End until you’ve written all of the words that come first. You have to put words on the page. Lots of words.

2.  Learn the craft.  I’ve heard people claim that writing can't be taught; someone has the natural ability or doesn't. Nonsense. Sure, no one can tell you how to produce Great Art, but we can all strive to learn to be better writers. Stories have structure, language has nuance, and readers have expectations. Books, classes, and critique groups can help you understand factors like these. Just don't spend so much time learning that you neglect to actually write.

3.  Rewrite.  Another writers' saying: "There’s no good writing, there’s only good rewriting." (Justice Louis Brandeis apparently said it first.) A few writers assert that they never rewrite; their first draft is their last. But most of us find our work gets better when we go over it again, and perhaps again, with a focused eye and a sharp red pencil. One secret to good rewriting: knowing when to quit. Don’t use "it’s not perfect yet" as an excuse to keep from finishing or submitting your work.

4.  Learn about the industry.  Getting published is easier than ever. If traditional publishers don’t give you the response you want, you can publish yourself. But getting published well is a different story. The Big Six (soon to become Big the Five with the Penguin–Random House merger), a small publisher, doing it yourself—each route can lead to a successful career. Whichever way you go, bear in mind that you’re an entrepreneur in a rapidly changing industry. No one's quite sure what the rules and best practices are, or what they'll be next year. The more you learn about publishing, the better able you'll be to make good decisions that work for you.

5.  Write some more.  You can't build a career with one book. As soon as you finish the first one, it's time to start the next. Writing as a career is a numbers game. The more books you have out there, the more you're likely to sell.

6.  Meet other writers.  Writing can be an isolating occupation. You spend hours alone, with no company except the characters who've taken up residence in your brain. Your family and friends may be supportive, yet clueless when you say things like plot point, or unreliable narrator, or I can’t believe they want these galleys back in three days! Hanging out with other writers lets you talk shop, get support and (if needed) sympathy, share information, and learn from others' experiences. Oh, and make great friends. Organizations like Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and Romance Writers of America are good places to start.

7.  Believe in yourself and your work.  That's tough advice to follow when you're deep in the mid-book blues -- that moment we all face when we're convinced our words are the worst drivel ever inflicted on a page, and the entire effort seems pointless and stupid. Don't yield to those thoughts; they're the insidious lies of the inner critic who lurks in every writer’s brain. Trust that what you're doing is worthwhile. Because it is. Be confident that you can write, and write well. Because you can.

May your writing bring you joy and success!

How Not to Write a Mystery

One of the most important ways to learn how to do things, is by becoming familiar with how not to do things. This has been my (sometimes unfortunate) mantra in life. Perhaps it's because I'm hard-headed, perhaps it's because I've never been good with the phrases "you must/don't ever." Either way, the advice is sage. Consider: I learned how not to get Danny Wood (member of the 1994-big-haired-Hannah's fantasy life/New Kids on the Block) to fall madly in love with me by stealing his mail then showing up on his doorstep all knight-ess in shining armour to return it. Because that, my friends, is a felony. One thing not to do gets me closer to the one thing to do, yes? Perhaps, but first I have to make bail.

And back to writing. When it comes to writing mysteries, in particular, throwing out the occasional red herring is a good thing. Creating the literary equivalent to a flashing red arrow to your killer on page two goes into the not file. Ditto with tossing in a last-page twist killer who we've never met up until that moment: "ah ha! The killer is Sally's Uncle Hal who was thought to be sheep herding in Alaska all this time but had some sheep herding grudge from way back, inspiring his murderous rampage!" (Perhaps his issue was that sheep don't thrive in Alaska and even if they did, they'd be really hard to find in the snow).

I'm currently writing my 8th mystery, but I'm still learning. Like yesterday, I learned NOT to splash coffee on my laptop, lest the keys stick in the cinnamon-brown sugar laced mess and, perhaps a bigger lesson, it fries the crap out of said computer's innards and you will cry. A lot.

Obviously, I shouldn't have been saving money for bail (I'm smart enough to never repeat a lesson and I'm mostly over Danny Wood). I should have been saving for a beverage-free laptop.

Or a sippy cup.