Live from the United Kingdom: Celebrity Fiction

Sure we have a passion for writing, and finishing a project is the best feeling in the world, but it would be nice to make a little money for the effort. Still, it seems haphazard at best, how some authors achieve fame and fortune over others.

Talent and skill are surely a qualifier, but it still seems a bit of a crapshoot, that is, except when it comes to works by celebrities. Because they are famous, publishers seem to swoon, and stuff gets printed that maybe should have been left in a journal and shoved to the back of a closet.

In the case of hugely popular British vlogger, Zoe Sugg, publishers hit a jackpot when her debut novel was released in 2014. The problem is she may not have written the book.

CJ Daugherty, our U.K. foreign correspondent and expat author living in England, discusses the publishing scandal and why writers end up getting the shaft. Again.

Celebrity Fiction

The great British publishing scandal of 2014 happened at the very end of the year. In December, a vlogger (video + blogger = vlogger) named Zoe Sugg released her first novel. And all hell broke loose.

If you’re over twenty you’re unlikely to have heard of Sugg. She’s an online ‘lifestyle blogger’ known to teen girls everywhere as ‘Zoella’. And when I say ‘everywhere’, I mean everywhere. She has 7.4 million subscribers to her YouTube channel.  Her videos have a collective 369 million views.

She blogs about makeup, girl problems, her boyfriend, and her dog. A video she put up 18 hours before I wrote this column already has 780,000 views. Here, you watch it, I can’t bear it.

When her novel Girl Online* was published by Penguin UK, it broke first-week publishing records set by Dan Brown and EL James, selling more than 78,000 copies in its first seven days. In a country where selling a few thousand copies can get you on the bestseller list, that number was mind-blowing.

Despite its fluffy cover, the novel tackled serious issues affecting teens today, including bullying and online harassment. The press couldn’t get enough of it; Sugg was everywhere – TV, newspapers, radio.

The only problem, it seemed, was that almost as soon as the book came out, rumours began swirling that Sugg didn’t write it.

On Twitter, authors muttered under their breath about it. People began putting the word ‘author’ and ‘wrote’ in quotation marks when Sugg was mentioned.

Full disclosure: I was one of those people. Several of my author friends had been approached about ghost writing this book. By the time Penguin found a writer, half the professional writers in the UK knew what was going on.

With so much publicity and gossip, the outcome was inevitable. At the end of December, the Sunday Times newspaper broke the story wide open with a two-page spread on Zoella and her alleged ghost-writer, an experienced, award-winning author of books for young adults named Siobhan Curham.

According to the newspaper, Curham was paid £7,000 (around $10,700 US) and given no royalties on the record-breaking sales. Rumours abounded that she was given only six weeks to pen the 80,000-word novel.

Curham, who allegedly signed a secrecy agreement with Penguin, has never admitted writing the book. Sugg has never admitted not writing the book. Everybody involved uses the word ‘help’ a lot.

In a statement, Penguin said, ‘As with many new writers she (Sugg) got help in bringing that story to life.’

In a separate statement, Sugg said, ‘Everyone needs help when they try something new.’

The only help I got writing my first novel came from coffee – and lots of it. But that’s neither here nor there.

The scandal made national news. The Internet was full of it for days. Teens on Twitter and Facebook claimed either not to believe it, or to be heartbroken, depending on which one you talked to. Either way, they kept buying the book, which has now sold nearly 300,000 copies.

Curham’s name never went on the cover. Sugg is now ‘writing’ her second novel.

Welcome to British publishing, where celebrity is king.

In the midst of the Zoella scandal, few noticed an industry announcement that Scholastic had signed fifteen-year-old Scottish pop singer Tallia Storm to a 5-book deal (FIVE). She’s said to be writing her first novel now.

In February, Zoe Sugg’s younger brother, Joe Sugg, signed a deal to ‘write’ a graphic novel for Hodder and Stoughton. His YouTube channel has 3.6 million subscribers.

And all of this was followed by a few months of the startling successful, and most aptly named book of 2014 – The Pointless Book*.

‘Written’ by Zoe’s YouTube boyfriend, Alfie Deyes (3.6 million YouTube subscribers), The Pointless Book is not a novel, but a notebook that buyers fill in themselves. ‘Write five places you want to go,’ it suggests on one page. ‘Draw genitals on the pictures below,’ another page demands. It sells for £7.99 and has an average 4.2 stars on Goodreads.

When Deyes held a book signing at a large book store in central London last fall, police were called to handle the chaos after thousands of screaming teenage girls crowded Piccadilly Street. Doors to the bookstore were locked. Teens left outside wept in despair.

‘I stood in line for three hours,’ one girl on Twitter wrote accusingly later that day, ‘and Alfie didn’t even hug me.’

Britain loves a book written by a celebrity. One of the bestselling UK children’s writers for those over the age of 8 is David Walliams, the erstwhile star of the hit adult comedy TV series, Little Britain, which took a dark look at life in the UK in the early 2000s.

On December 26, 2014, in the Bookseller Magazine list of the Top 20 books of the week, 15 were either books by or about celebrities including Walliams, or computer game tie-ins (Minecraft), or anthologies (the Guinness Book of World Records).

That means, two of every three books in the top 20 were not necessarily written by the authors credited, if an author was credited at all.

This was not an unusual week. The British publishing industry has long been fascinated by the famous and the easy money celebrity books bring in. But with the Zoella scandal, some writers, who had long tolerated the pretence that celebrities really write those autobiographies and cook books, grew restive.

Within the publishing industry – agents, editors, executives – the Zoella scandal was greeted with baffled dismay. ‘There have always been ghost writers,’ editors and agents wrote in the days after the Times broke the story. ‘What’s the big deal?’

It’s a good question. Maybe it was because the one person who got shafted on that deal, aside from the book buyers, was the writer. And that looks bad.

Perhaps, watching Sugg give interviews about a writing process she had not necessarily gone through was too much to stomach for writers struggling with falling advances.

I suppose in the end, though, the fantasy just went too far. Her readers are so young – most are aged 12-14 – and they believed she wrote the book. Really believed it. They love Zoe Sugg. They weren’t buying a novel, they were buying a piece of her. Something she had created. Or so they thought.

It was unpleasant to watch. Like an industry was lying to children for cash. And they paid and paid.

Like taking candy, you might say, from a baby.

I’m eagerly awaiting the release of the next celebrity teen novel. I wonder who’s writing it?

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A former crime reporter, political writer, and investigative journalist, CJ Daugherty has also worked, at times, for the British government. She is originally from Texas and attended Texas A&M University. She now lives with her husband in the south of England. Night School is the first in a five-part Young Adult series with an accompanying web series. Her books have been translated into 21 languages.

Creating Emotion on the Page / Author Leslie Budewitz

I’ll never forget the moment when Romeo rides past the well-intentioned Friar Lawrence with that, oh, so important communiqué about Juliet’s poisoned slumber in Franco Zeffirelli’s version of Romeo and Juliet. I wanted to yell at the screen. Even though I knew the story and what was to happen, the depth of despair from that single act of dramatic irony where no words were spoken, said it all. In this week’s blog, author Leslie Budewitz writes about evoking readers’ emotions in much the same way. As writers we don’t say, ‘And now readers, it’s time to be sad, or happy.’ Instead, the reader is guided into understanding the characters and why the actions they commit are destiny. Otherwise, as Leslie, so aptly explains, the readers won’t feel anything!

Happy Reading!

Clay Stafford,
Founder Killer Nashville,
Publisher Killer Nashville Magazine

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Creating Emotion on the Page 

By Leslie Budewitz

Story lies not in what happens to our characters—whether they lose a spouse, stumble over a body, get sold into slavery—but how they respond to what happens. How events hit them deep inside, touch an old wound, trigger a struggle, lead to more conflict, and ultimately, growth and resolution. The purpose of plot is to force our characters into those challenging situations, where they must confront their internal conflicts, externalizing them in action. This is as true in the cozy mysteries I write as in literary fiction or any other genre. The tone and depth of exploration may vary, but the heart of story remains the same.

But if we tell our readers what our characters feel, they won’t feel anything. We need to evoke emotion by showing how our characters respond to emotional situations. How do they move when struck by grief, annoyed by stupidity, or baffled by absurdity? What happens to their faces, their voices? How do their feelings influence what they say—and how they say it?

First, we can call on our emotional experience. Then, we analogize from our experience to our characters. By analogize—a term lawyers use when comparing cases where the facts differ, but the same legal principles apply—I mean we take what we know, compare it to another situation, and picture what would happen then. I remember clearly how I felt physically and emotionally, and what I did, when a man I didn’t know walked in my unlocked dorm room while I was napping. I can extrapolate from my experience and imagine how my character would respond. (Turned out my intruder was a well-known thief, not a rapist, and didn’t realize my door led to a suite, not a single room, so I wasn’t actually alone.) A character assaulted as a young child, or who had witnessed a brutal attack, would bring to the same intrusion a more complex reaction, based on her own experience.

I used a similar technique in writing Crime Rib, the second in my Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries. My protagonist, Erin Murphy, was 17 when her father was killed in a still-unsolved hit-and run. Now 32, she finds a friend’s lifeless body alongside the road, apparently the victim of a hit-and-run. Ike Hoover, the undersheriff overseeing the investigation, was the deputy in charge of her father’s case, complicating her view of him. As I wondered how Erin would respond to him, I found myself walking around the house, searching mind and body for analogous situations.

I replayed an incident nearly 30 years ago when I took a walk near a golf course, saw a man keel over on the green, and ran for help, struggling to give directions to an unfamiliar place. I remembered watching in a courtroom when an older lawyer clutched his chest, stepped back from the podium mid-argument, and died. And I recalled a collision in front of my house fifteen years ago. The loud crack broke the afternoon. Dashing outside. Seeing a young man stumble toward me. Knowing I had to check his truck, that I couldn’t rely on his dazed assertion that he’d been alone in the cab. Mining my feelings, I realized I was recreating them in my body, all these years later. My jaw tightened, my breath thinned, sounds came at me as if filtered by a fog.

“[Ike] suppressed a smile. I sat and took the statement he handed me. Rereading my description of what I’d seen and heard on Saturday night brought all the sensations crashing back. My breath went shallow, and I felt the anxiety racing through my veins, headed for my heart.  I did not want to feel this. I wanted to walk away. My self-righteous words to Kim still echoed in my ears: Stacia deserves justice, too.”

How do we tap into emotions beyond our own pale? Emotional research. I often call on my doctor-husband’s observations of how people respond to stressful situations, emotionally and physically, and the long-term effects. To explore Erin’s reactions, as a teenager and a young woman, to her father’s death, I thought about everyone I knew who’d lost a parent when they were young. Me, at 30, is very different from 17, but a good starting point. My college best friend, at 21; and a high school classmate at 22, who later lost her husband when her son was only 4. A law firm colleague whose father’s death when he was 18 set him on a much-different path than he’d planned. I wrote what I knew of their experiences out by hand to get at the physical experience. To put in my body, so my writer brain could call on it.

I also found online guides for teens who’ve lost a parent and for their teachers. Kids sometimes have a not-quite-rational feeling that something unrelated to their actions must still be their fault, somehow, or that it marks them.

“Calling him by his first name wasn’t disrespect. Undersheriff sounds too much like undertaker to me, and it had been Ike who’d come to the village Playhouse to get me, during rehearsal, after my father’s accident. The association still stuck. Childish, maybe, but it wasn’t a feeling I could logic my way out of.”

A writer friend described her own teenager, a very different girl from Erin, but whose desire for black-and-white answers helped me flesh out Erin’s best friend Kim Caldwell. Now a sheriff’s detective, Kim’s reaction cost both girls their friendship, led to her career in law enforcement, and still plagues her.

“Kim and I had been best friends all through junior high and high school. Until my father died, the winter of senior year. That had been too much for her, and the night of his accident, I lost my best friend, too. Since my return, we’d run into each other a few times, but exchanged only small talk. Why she’d chosen law enforcement remained a mystery. …

Something slid down her left wrist and she shoved it back up her sleeve. A bracelet? A memory flashed across my mental screen and vanished.

“I’m sorry to have to put you through this,” she said. “Your family means a lot to me.”

Right. My family meant so much, she dropped me like a rock when my father died. Like it might be contagious. Like I had done something to her.

I nodded. Until I knew what was going on, I needed to be very careful.”

Only when we dig into our characters’ minds and hearts, their successes and failures, their stresses, dramas, and traumas, will we know how they’ll respond to events on the page. But if we’re willing—even when it brings back up our own painful moments—we can create characters our readers will want to know.

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About Crime Rib: 

“Gourmet food market owner Erin Murphy is determined to get Jewel Bay, Montana’s scrumptious local fare, some national attention. But her scheme for culinary celebrity goes up in flames when the town’s big break is interrupted by murder…

Food Preneurs, one of the hottest cooking shows on TV, has decided to feature Jewel Bay in an upcoming episode, and everyone in town is preparing for their close-ups, including the crew at the Glacier Mercantile, aka the Merc. Not only is Erin busy remodeling her courtyard into a relaxing dining area, she’s organizing a steak-cooking competition between three of Jewel Bay’s hottest chefs to be featured on the program.

But Erin’s plans get scorched when one of the contending cooks is found dead. With all the drama going on behind the scenes, it’s hard to figure out who didn’t have a motive to off the saucy contestant. Now, to keep the town’s rep from crashing and burning on national television, Erin will have to grill some suspects to smoke out the killer…”

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If you would like to read more about Leslie Budewitz’s books please click here.

Leslie Budewitz is the national best-selling author of Death al Dente, first in the Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries, winner of the 2013 Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Crime Rib, the second in the series, was published by Berkley Prime Crime on July 1, 2014.

Also a lawyer, Leslie won the 2011 Agatha Award for Best Nonfiction for Books, Crooks & Counselors: How to Write Accurately About Criminal Law & Courtroom Procedure (Quill Driver Books), making her the first author to win Agatha Awards for both fiction and nonfiction.

For more tales of life in the wilds of northwest Montana, and bonus recipes, visit her website and subscribe to her newsletter. Website: www.LeslieBudewitz.com   Facebook: LeslieBudewitzAuthor

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