KN Magazine: Articles
How Did a Nice Banker Get Involved with Serial Killers?
It wasn’t that I was fascinated with serial killers.
Before writing Murderabilia, my previous thrillers had more to do with the financial services industry and the countries I know like Colombia, Canada, and Algeria. But then I started playing the “what if” game and combining ideas.
Things got weird — fast.
It all started with a secret. Everyone has at least one. A good secret can be the center of a novel and often drives the plot forward. I wondered what a private banker for the extremely wealthy might keep hidden. What if his father was a killer? That could be something he didn’t want his colleagues to discover. But what if it was worse than that? Suppose his father was a serial killer, a more egregious scandal for my tony banker. Even better — suppose his father is notorious. Maybe he’s as well known as Dennis Rader, Jeffery Dahmer, or Charles Manson. He is so creepy that deranged fans revere him and create internet sites about him.
So why is the father so notorious? Well, a real killer, Harvey Glatman, took photos of his victims. That’s promising (for a crime writer, anyway). Suppose my protagonist's serial killer father went one step further. What if he took artsy black-and-white photos of the rearranged bodies of his victims with props? Suppose they were well-composed and professionally lit. What normal person would admit to being related to that psychopath? So you’re his son? You inherited his genes?
Another author once told me that being creative in fiction doesn’t require a revolutionary idea. You just have to combine two or three existing ideas in a way no one has before. I had several of those ideas: private banking, son of an infamous serial killer, and victim photography. But there was something else I could combine.
In researching serial killers, I discovered there actually is a market for their art called “murderabilia.” Paintings by Manson, John Wayne Gacy, and a hundred others are traded through brokers and dealers who advertise on the web. This is real stuff, and it’s creepier than anything I could make up. Clown paintings by Gacy go for more than $100,000. One dealer said a mother bought a Gacy painting for her 12-year-old on his birthday.
What if the serial killer father in my book became so famous people bought and sold his photographs? Suppose those photographs started the “murderabilia" market and some are even on display in museums. Now I was starting to get ideas about the tortured past of his son, my protagonist. My private banker wouldn’t want anyone to even suspect who his father was. All kinds of character flaws and motivations emerged. He’d feel as if he could never escape his father’s horrible legacy. But I wasn’t done yet.
I grew up a Christian Scientist but left the religion when I went to college. Christian Science is so unusual that I always wanted to make it an element in a book. It’s an incredibly philosophical religion. Evil is regarded as a false conception. If a person stops believing evil is inside a person, if they understand that people really reflect God’s perfection, then the evil will cease to exist. Now there is a great religion for the wife of a serial killer — especially if she is fanatical about her devotion. Just imagine how that would enable her husband to pursue his photography and how it would unsettle her children.
There was only one thing left. I’m not a photographer. But I could learn. I got an instructional DVD from a National Geographic photographer and bought some books on the history of photography. A side benefit was that through research, I became interested in photography, and now I’m going to a class every week.
So you see how weird even an analytical banker can get when he starts playing the what if game and combining ideas. The people I worked with thought I was so conservative and normal — well, maybe not completely normal — if they only knew.
What if they really had known?
Carl Vonderau grew up in Cleveland in a religious family that believed that God could heal all illness. He left that behind him when he went to college at Stanford and studied economics. Somehow, after dabbling in classical guitar, he ended up in banking. Carl lived and worked in Latin America, Canada, and North Africa, and conducted business in Spanish, French and Portuguese. He also secretly wrote crime novels. Now, a full-time author, he also helps nonprofit organizations. He and his wife reside in San Diego, where their two sons live close by. Check out more at http://carlvonderau.com/.
Is Creating a Novel an Act of Alchemy or Engineering?
For some, creating a novel is an act of alchemy. The transmutation of blank space into a story you just can’t stop reading. It appears as if from nowhere as words flow onto the screen or the paper, propelled by some force over which the writer seemingly has very little control. It’s almost like magic. These are the writers who start with a seed, an opening scene perhaps, or a piece of dialogue, and let the story write itself. No predetermined plan, no carefully mapped out sequence of scenes and events. One thing leads to another, characters emerge, conflicts boil over, and soon there is a novel. The process is organic, self-replicating. An evolution with a whiff of genius about it.
I’ve met writers like this. I’ve always been a bit envious of these magicians and alchemists. These are the writers who say things like: “the story wrote itself”, and “the characters kept surprising me, I had no control over them.” What a wonderful thing to be able to create this way, with freedom and spontaneity.
For me, writing is an entirely different process. More an act of engineering than evolutionary biology. Build it. Start with place and theme. What is the subject, the essential message of the book? Where will it be set? Why this, and why here? This is the foundation. Once these things are clear, make a plan. Sketch it out, from beginning to end. I create the characters and they absolutely do only and exactly what I tell them to. I determine the key events that will make up the story. Before I can start the first sentence, I need to see how the book will finish. That means lots of planning before I ever start composing prose, and a lot of hard work. When the plan hangs together, I can start writing. Each morning I know what I am going to write, what has to happen. Then I can focus on writing the best prose I can. And when the whole things is done, the even harder work of revision begins, the polishing, the adding of essential detail, the culling of all of the wonderful but superfluous stuff every writer loves to create but needs to take out.
My first novel, The Abrupt Physics of Dying, which was shortlisted for the CWA Creasy Prize, took me ten years to write. I was working full time, raising a family, building a business. I just looked back through my old notebooks, charted the life of the book. The first plan, a series of sketches, bears almost no resemblance to the final product. In fact, the published novel retained less than ten percent of the original plan. The plan changed over the years, as I learned, received feedback, and tested ideas. At that level, it was definitely a process of evolution.
My fourth novel, Absolution, released in 2018, was the final in the Claymore Straker series. I wrote it in a year, pretty much full time. The planning still happened, but the momentum of a series meant that so much of the context and essential character work was already done. Looking back, the writing process was much more “let it flow” than rigorous planning.
The more I think about it, the more I realise that perhaps the two approaches aren’t so very different. The evolutionary writer’s initial seed contains the story’s DNA, the essential coding of the story, wrapped up in his or her life experiences, hopes, dreams, and fears. Nothing comes from a vacuum. Place and theme are encoded in that opening scene, and carried deep within the writer’s soul. If the seed finds fertile ground, gets enough water and sun, it grows, replicates, branches out, spreads and gets strong. That’s life. What seems like magic is actually a lot of hard work, planning and preparation done subconsciously. All the engineer does it try to harness that work, make it explicit and use it. The plans themselves evolve and develop under the same influences. It all comes from the same place, needs the same nourishment. That’s what I tell myself, anyway, when I emerge from a day of “writing” and all I have is a series of sketches and notes that look more like battle plan than work of art.
If you are writer, you’ve got to write. One hears it all the time. And you know, it’s absolutely true. But whatever the method, engineering or alchemy, magic or planning, creating a novel is hard work. A year (or ten) to write, four days to read. So I better get to it.
For some, creating a novel is an act of alchemy. The transmutation of blank space into a story you just can’t stop reading. It appears as if from nowhere as words flow onto the screen or the paper, propelled by some force over which the writer seemingly has very little control. It’s almost like magic. These are the writers who start with a seed, an opening scene perhaps, or a piece of dialogue, and let the story write itself. No predetermined plan, no carefully mapped out sequence of scenes and events. One thing leads to another, characters emerge, conflicts boil over, and soon there is a novel. The process is organic, self-replicating. An evolution with a whiff of genius about it.
I’ve met writers like this. I’ve always been a bit envious of these magicians and alchemists. These are the writers who say things like: “the story wrote itself”, and “the characters kept surprising me, I had no control over them.” What a wonderful thing to be able to create this way, with freedom and spontaneity.
For me, writing is an entirely different process. More an act of engineering than evolutionary biology. Build it. Start with place and theme. What is the subject, the essential message of the book? Where will it be set? Why this, and why here? This is the foundation. Once these things are clear, make a plan. Sketch it out, from beginning to end. I create the characters and they absolutely do only and exactly what I tell them to. I determine the key events that will make up the story. Before I can start the first sentence, I need to see how the book will finish. That means lots of planning before I ever start composing prose, and a lot of hard work. When the plan hangs together, I can start writing. Each morning I know what I am going to write, what has to happen. Then I can focus on writing the best prose I can. And when the whole things is done, the even harder work of revision begins, the polishing, the adding of essential detail, the culling of all of the wonderful but superfluous stuff every writer loves to create but needs to take out.
My first novel, The Abrupt Physics of Dying, which was shortlisted for the CWA Creasy Prize, took me ten years to write. I was working full time, raising a family, building a business. I just looked back through my old notebooks, charted the life of the book. The first plan, a series of sketches, bears almost no resemblance to the final product. In fact, the published novel retained less than ten percent of the original plan. The plan changed over the years, as I learned, received feedback, and tested ideas. At that level, it was definitely a process of evolution.
My fourth novel, Absolution, released in 2018, was the final in the Claymore Straker series. I wrote it in a year, pretty much full time. The planning still happened, but the momentum of a series meant that so much of the context and essential character work was already done. Looking back, the writing process was much more “let it flow” than rigorous planning.
The more I think about it, the more I realise that perhaps the two approaches aren’t so very different. The evolutionary writer’s initial seed contains the story’s DNA, the essential coding of the story, wrapped up in his or her life experiences, hopes, dreams, and fears. Nothing comes from a vacuum. Place and theme are encoded in that opening scene, and carried deep within the writer’s soul. If the seed finds fertile ground, gets enough water and sun, it grows, replicates, branches out, spreads and gets strong. That’s life. What seems like magic is actually a lot of hard work, planning and preparation done subconsciously. All the engineer does it try to harness that work, make it explicit and use it. The plans themselves evolve and develop under the same influences. It all comes from the same place, needs the same nourishment. That’s what I tell myself, anyway, when I emerge from a day of “writing” and all I have is a series of sketches and notes that look more like battle plan than work of art.
If you are writer, you’ve got to write. One hears it all the time. And you know, it’s absolutely true. But whatever the method, engineering or alchemy, magic or planning, creating a novel is hard work. A year (or ten) to write, four days to read. So I better get to it.
Paul E Hardisty is a writer, university professor, environmental hydrologist, and triathlete. His first novel, 'The Abrupt Physics of Dying', a thriller set in Yemen, in which one man risks his life to bring down an oil company, is published by Orenda Books, and is available on Amazon. The sequel, 'The Evolution of Fear', was published by Orenda Books in 2016. He currently leads Australia's national science research in land, water, biodiversity and climate adaptation. Paul lives in Perth, Western Australia, with his wife Heidi and his sons Zachary and Declan. His latest non-fiction book, "Environmental and Economic Sustainability" was published by CRC Press in 2010, and is also available on Amazon.com.
I Just Got Out of Jail
I just got out of jail.
Just like I do every Thursday at approximately eight o’clock at night. Tonight there’s a biting—and for mid-November unexpected—breeze coming off the East River onto the Island. It punches me in the face as I exit the housing unit and do my best to admire the Manhattan skyline a few miles in the distance. Not even the single-digit “Real Feel” temperature can chill the heated excitement coursing through my veins.
For the past four hours, I’d been working with incarcerated young men—eighteen to twenty years old—reading and writing. My partners and I show them a piece of poetry or prose, ask for reflections, and then try to get them to write something in a similar vein. The work we get from these young men is never short of astounding—if not always in “quality,” then always in honesty.
This day, I had given a small group of young men one of my favorite writing exercises: write a scene using just dialogue. No setting, no attributions, just dialogue. The only other rule is that both speakers must be in conflict with each other. Quite often they come up with stuff they choose to work on after my time with them is over.
And every once in a while, I get something to take home with me.
One of our more reluctant writers, a young man of about twenty, had taken ten minutes to write only four lines, each character taking two turns to speak. Not a big output, but the last line stood out: “I’ma kill you.”
“Why,” I asked, “is this character threatening to kill the other?”
“It’s like this,” the young man began. “The last time they was playing dice, the one guy lost and didn’t have the money to pay the other guy. Ya feel me? So the guy said he could wait. So now they gonna play again and if the guy who lost last time loses again and doesn’t have the money like he says he does, the other guy’s gonna kill him. Ya feel me?”
“Does that happen?” I asked. “Over dice?”
The young man gave me a smile that would make Jack Nicholson envious. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Lemme tell ya something.”
However reluctant a writer he was, he was the exact opposite as a storyteller. What came out of his mouth for the next twenty-plus minutes was nothing short of a dissertation in the world of underground—sometimes literally, as many games are played in the basements of Brooklyn housing developments and brownstones—dice playing and the folks who play.
When I was sure he was finished, I looked at him and said, “You know I’m going to steal that, don’t you?”
Knowing I was a novelist, he smiled and said, “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” And then I added, “Ya feel me?”
Without realizing it, this incarcerated youth—whose incarceration for drug use makes none of us any safer—had given me setting, characters, and plot development. The next day, I stopped writing the scene I’d been working on, and wrote a new one where my protagonist Raymond Donne—ex-cop turned New York City schoolteacher—gets taken to a dice game in search of the murder victim’s former drug dealer.
This is one of the more obvious reasons I’ve never believed in writer’s block. I live in New York City; here “writers block” is a street where two or more authors live. If I ever get stuck for an idea, I step outside and go for a walk. (Or to prison.) Soon enough, someone will say something, do something, or remind me of something I can get down on paper and make fit into what I’m working on.
I’m not suggesting you head off to the nearest house of detention to get your ideas. After thirty years in the New York City public schools, I’ve always wanted to work with incarcerated youth. (Thanks to Prison Writes—www.prisonwrites.org—I now have that opportunity.) I am suggesting that when you find yourself stuck in the middle of your work-in-progress, and it’s not working or progressing, get up off your seat and get out into the world.
Go to the store and observe. Go to McDonald’s and listen. Go to the nearest wooded area and smell. Taste and touch using your own judgment. There’s no link on your laptop that leads to inspiration.
You’ve got five senses. Get up, get out, and use them.
Ya feel me?
TIM O’MARA is best known for his Raymond Donne mysteries about an ex-cop who now teaches in the same Williamsburg, Brooklyn, neighborhood he once policed: Sacrifice Fly (2012), Crooked Numbers (2013), Dead Red (2015), Nasty Cutter (2017), published by Minotaur Books (#1–#3) and Severn House (#4). O’Mara’s short story The Tip is featured in the 2016 anthology Unloaded: Crime Writers Writing Without Guns, and his novellas Smoked and Jammed appear in 2016 and 2018 crime trilogies from Down & Out Books. O’Mara taught special education for 30 years in the public middle schools of New York City, where he now teaches adult writers and still lives. In addition to writing his next Raymond novel, The Hook, and the stand-alone high-school-based crime drama, So Close to Me, O’Mara recently finished curating the short-story anthology, Down to the River, to benefit the non-profit American Rivers.
Dynamic Duo: The Adventures of Caped Co-Authors
We’ve all seen the memes and jokes on social media. Being an author is great except for…editing, re-writes, plot holes, characters who misbehave, marketing, dealing with writer’s block, and the list goes on and on. We laugh, maybe a little self-consciously, because deep down we know there is a little grain of truth in the humor. Being an author can be hard, but being a co-author is actually great, at least in our opinions. We have a built-in support network when we write, and we are able to keep each other going and avoiding many of the potential pitfalls commonly faced by an author who is doing it solo. We don’t claim that we don’t face the same problems, or suffer the same fears (marketing anyone? *shudder*). By writing as a team, we can more easily overcome the obstacles when they crop up.
Division of Labor
We have known each other since high school, and this really helps in our writing. We started out doing game design together, developing role-playing games, and card and board games. This allowed us to develop our skills while working together and made it so that when we started writing fiction, we knew what our strengths and weaknesses were. Geoff is the creative one and does the bulk of the initial draft for each story, while Coy is the one that keeps Geoff on track and the continuity flowing. Geoff is not an editor (he’s never met a comma that he either put in the wrong place or didn’t put where it belonged) while proofreading and story continuity are Coy’s strengths. Once Geoff has drafted the story, Coy can go through and make sure everything works – the characters stay true to who they are, and the story and dialogue flows. Once that is done, we sit down at our respective computers (Coy lives in Kansas City, while Geoff is in Albuquerque) and through the magic of video calls, we then read the story aloud and edit again as we go. Our strengths are very complimentary and when we work together it is like our powers merge and we become super-writers.
Shared Responsibilities
While we each have our strengths, which help us be better authors and (we feel) put out great stories, we also share many duties. This includes marketing and promotion as well as developing story ideas. We both work to get the word out about our books through social media, our own network of friends, family, and acquaintances, and performing author appearances. Between the two of us, we can draw from a larger pool of potential readers, and we can attend in-person events in different parts of the country. We are able to get together several times a year to attend larger events (like the larger comic cons) and we use this time to develop new story ideas. In this way, we become sounding boards for each other, tossing out story and character ideas, and plot out the basic outline for a story, which we can then work on when we are back at our respective homes. This allows us to continually develop stories for our different book series, as well as any solo projects we are working on.
You Can Be A Super-Writer
What can you do to get the same super powers that we enjoy? Well, the simplest thing would be to find another writer and start writing together. Become your own writing dynamic duo. But we know that this may not work for all authors. What’s the solo hero to do? Why, you join a superhero team, of course! Like the Avengers or the Justice League, you can join with a group of fellow authors and combine your powers. Whether you find a group online or in person, joining an author group has many benefits. You’re joining a group of like-minded people that you can use to work through those pesky plot holes, writer’s blocks, and misbehaving characters. An author group is also a ready group of beta readers for your story. But beyond the basic concepts of support that a great author group provides, you can also benefit in other areas. Authors in a group can cross-market their books for each other, building upon each other’s social networks and newsletter lists. This benefits all the writers in the group. You can also pitch in to share a booth or table at a large book fair or convention, sharing the cost for the booth and working together to sell your books. Having multiple authors at a booth can help to bring traffic to your booth, as the availability of a wider selection of titles has the possibility of appealing to more people. Once a potential buyer stops to look at one title, you can then pitch all of your titles, potentially increasing everyone’s sales.
Many authors are quite successful working their craft alone, but we have found that working together has made us better authors than either one of us could be on our own. Working with a co-author can be challenging, especially if both authors are attempting to steer the ship in different directions, but when authors have complementary skill sets and are able to work together, then the final result can truly be something heroic.
Coy and Geoff have been best friends since high school (which was a long, long time ago). When not discussing comics, movies, or TV shows they dabble at other stuff, including game design and writing. As game designers they have released many role-playing accessories and two card games. As writer's they have published two novels, Unremarkable and Wrath of the Fury Blade. Their third novel, Untouchable, will be released in September. Coy lives with his wife and one cat in Kansas City. Geoff lives with his wife, son, and two creatures that claim to be cats in Albuquerque. You can learn more about their writing at their website:
Setting as Inspiration
Robert Louis Stevenson said, “Some places speak distinctly. Certain dank gardens cry aloud for a murder; certain old houses demand to be haunted; certain coasts are set apart for shipwrecks.”
I lived on the Inishowen peninsula in County Donegal for eleven years. It’s a windswept and beautiful place, with brooding headlands, deserted beaches, towering sea stacks, and ruined forts. When I began writing crime novels, I could not have set them anywhere else.
I ran the most northerly law practise in Ireland while I lived there, so it was no coincidence that my protagonist/amateur sleuth emerged as a female solicitor named Benedicta O’Keeffe, known as Ben (my own friends and family call me Andy). No coincidence either that Ben also runs the most northerly law practise in Ireland (last legal advice before Iceland, as a friend of mine pointed out).
But what truly inspires me is place—landscape and buildings. When I visit somewhere for the first time, I find myself imagining what might have happened there, and whether the memory of those events might have remained embedded within the walls, in the atmosphere, marking it out as a place of contentment or sadness. Or fear. My grandmother (who also believed she had the gift of second sight and that the banshee followed her family) believed that to be the case; she thought that a place retained the essence of what had occurred within, and that one could sense it. And despite years of level-headed, rational legal training, I think she was right.
Which is why each of my books starts with place: a forgotten crypt below a deconsecrated church on a cliff, a deserted beach, a remote island, an old house.
Setting is important in crime fiction. It contributes to and affects the plot, evokes mood, and influences the characters. Inishowen is another character in my books, as important as the protagonist herself. I’m not sure they would work if I set them anywhere else.
Some disagree, but my advice is: don’t set your story in a place you haven’t at least visited. Readers can tell if you’ve over-googled. And if you are writing about somewhere you don’t live, keep newspapers, pictures, brochures, to bring you to where you need to be. I live in Dublin now but sometimes an old Donegal Creameries milk carton is enough to take me back to Inishowen.
Setting is not just about accuracy—many writers create fictional locations – it’s about evoking a sense of place. Use language, customs, food and weather to bring a place to life, not just physical landscape. Use all your senses, not just sight, ask yourself what the place sounds like and smells like (something google will rarely tell you). Use a few memorable details rather than too many. Write about place through your character or narrator’s eyes. Are they new to this place? Or do they dislike it? If you are writing about somewhere you know well, become a stranger in your own town – try to notice things as if you are seeing them for the first time.
When I moved to Dublin, Inishowen became easier to write about when I was detached from it – its colours and sounds more vivid because I missed them. But now I return all the time. I’ve just come back from a week there, tapping away on my laptop while gazing out at the North Atlantic Ocean.
At no point do I plan out my books. I simply write as I like to read; with every chapter the mist clears a little, and I can see what will happen in the chapters to follow. I am driving along a foggy road at night and there are times when the road stretches clearly ahead and other times when it is barely visible; either way, I can never see further than the next bend. I think it’s this very quality of not knowing how it will end that drives me to finish the book.
I write the first draft straight through, because for me it is about story: that age-old human need to relate and to hear stories. The first draft is rough, like a piece of stone I need to sculpt, and I have been known to construct scaffolding which I remove later.
But my story starts with setting—always.
Andrea Carter grew up in Laois and studied law at Trinity College Dublin, before moving to the Inishowen peninsula in Co. Donegal where she ran the most northerly solicitors’ practice in Ireland. In 2006 she returned to Dublin to work as a barrister before turning to write crime novels. She was a winner of the Irish Writers Centre Novel Fair and is the recipient of two Arts Council of Ireland Literature Bursary Awards.
She is the author of the Inishowen Mysteries, most recently The Well of Ice and Murder at Greysbridge. She is published by Oceanview in the U.S., Little, Brown in the U.K. and Goldmann Verlag in Germany. The series will shortly be adapted for television.
The Sunday Times has said ‘Carter excels in re-creating the cloistered, gossipy confines of a small Irish village…the Inishowen peninsula community where everybody knows everybody else’s business is a fine stand-in for the mannered drawing room society of a Christie mystery.’
Why We Kill: A Discussion with Female Crime Authors
Last year I had the pleasure of attending Bouchercon, the annual world mystery convention where crime fiction lovers gather to discuss all things books. Out of the many panels I went to, the one that stuck with me the most was the all-female “Who We Kill and Why.” The discussions about each author’s choices fascinated me. Forty-five minutes wasn’t nearly long enough, so I caught up with Kimberly Belle, Emily Carpenter, E.C. Diskin, Karen Katchur, Laura McHugh, and Mindy Mejia—six powerful, bestselling, and award-winning women—and dug a little deeper into the reasons behind their murderous ways.
1. Hannah Mary McKinnon (HM): What is it about crime that interests you enough to want to write about it?
Emily Carpenter (EC): I love the whole psychological aspect of a person trying to figure out who committed the crime, or is about to commit a crime, without coming right out and asking questions like a detective would, but more with insight and intuition.
Kimberly Belle (KB): I am fascinated not so much with the crime itself, but the psychological aspects of why people commit one. What led them to do something so awful they have to lie to cover it up? What motivated them? And as the story unfolds, I love watching them dig themselves an even deeper hole, especially with the people who love and trust them most.
Laura McHugh (LM): In addition to the psychological aspect that Emily and Kimberly mentioned, crimes are like puzzles to me, and I hate to see a puzzle go unsolved. I’m often inspired by cold cases because I can’t stop thinking of ways the crime might have unfolded. I want to figure out what happened, and the victim deserves for the truth to be unraveled.
Karen Katchur (KK:): It’s the same for me. I write about crime in order to explore the why. Why do we, as a society, often resort to violence? Why do we continue to hurt each other? And, like Laura said, it’s a puzzle I want to solve. Also, it’s a way for me to assuage my fears about violence. I lean into that fear when I’m writing, and I control the outcome. Making sure justice is served one way or another is hugely satisfying.
E.C. Diskin (ED): I agree with all of these points, so I guess I’ll just add that, sometimes, I’m drawn to write about an issue that might, on its face, have nothing to do with violence, but as I figure out how to write a compelling, page-turning tale, it naturally becomes what could be called a crime story. Nothing ups the stakes like life and death consequences.
2. (HM): Do you typically kill off the men or the women in your novels, or are you an equal opportunist?
(KB): I typically come at a story from a female POV (point of view), which means if it’s not violence committed against my women characters, there’s some kind of great betrayal. My stories concentrate on relationships—parent/child, siblings, spouses—a tight type of bond that makes the betrayal hit even harder.
(MM): I skew slightly male in my body counts, but gender is normally a secondary consideration, a 30,000-foot revision question. When I’m writing I’m more interested in the victim’s character and agency, giving them enough resources and power to determine their own fates. Sometimes they make it out alive. Sometimes they don’t intend to survive.
(KK): Well, I’ve written four novels and in every one of them I’ve killed men. I didn’t plan to only kill men. I didn’t even realize it until someone pointed it out to me. So like Mindy, gender wasn’t a consideration. I just wrote the stories I wanted to tell. That said, my fifth novel has a female body count.
(ED): I guess I’m an equal opportunity killer. I never gave it much consideration, but as I look back, both men and women have killed and been killed.
3. (HM): With so much crime against women in the world, why make them suffer in your novels, too?
(EC): It’s oddly satisfying to solve crimes and right wrongs in a world that can be so infuriatingly unjust.
(KB): My stories are realistic, and they reflect what’s happening in the world. That’s the appeal of the genre, I think, that readers read it and think, this could have happened to me.
(MM): I agree with Kimberly. We’re not writing fantasy. We live in a world where it’s often acceptable for women to suffer, and our responsibility as writers is to help people reject that cultural acceptance, and examine misogynistic violence on a deeper and more personal scale.
(KK): I agree with Emily, Kimberly and Mindy. We’re finally reading/writing about the side of the victim, the victim’s families, and I love that women are taking control of their own narratives. It’s so refreshing to read about crime from a woman’s perspective, since we’re often the ones on the receiving end. It’s relatable. It’s real.
(ED): I agree. It’s realistic for bad things to happen to women, particularly at the hands of men, but I also like to portray women as heroes more than just victims. That’s the reality too and it’s nice to write about women fighting back, getting even, saving the day, killing the bad guy, solving the murders, etc.
4. (HM): How has #MeToo influenced your work?
(KB): One of my characters In Three Days Missing was inspired by the #MeToo story of a very dear friend. It’s a fictionalized story crafted around a real-life one, and writing it helped me sort through all the emotions I felt, the sadness and helplessness and anger, while watching my friend go through hers.
(MM): The book I’m finishing now is the first I’ve written since the #MeToo movement began and it’s taken a very subversive point of view. I can’t say more without spoilers. Ask me again in a year when it’s out.
(KK): My next book, Cold Woods, was actually written before the #MeToo movement, and it’s finally coming out in 2019. So I guess you could say these issues have been on my mind for a long time. It centers around domestic violence and sexual abuse in the eighties, when there was very little protection for victims. It’s also about friendship and how strong women can be when they stick together, especially when confronted with extraordinary circumstances.
(ED):Desperate Paths, out in March, definitely has #MeToo issues, though like Karen’s Cold Woods, that story began before the movement. My guess is that we’ve all been exploring these issues long before it became a hashtag, simply because sexual harassment and/or sexual assault are realities that every woman on the planet knows and understands—whether personally or not. Actually, as I look back at my books, there are elements, at least in passing, of sexually-charged dangerous behavior—whether feared or experienced—in every story I’ve written because that’s a woman’s life, whether she’s in a parking lot, a bar, or at an office holiday party.
5. (HM): How do you think male and female authors approach the subject of murder?
(KB): As I’ve mentioned before, I love stories that explore the killer’s relationships and motivations, and some of my all-time favorites were written by women. To me, women authors just seem to dig deeper into the psychological whys, which are far more interesting to me than the hows.
(ED): I’m not sure I can answer this because I’ve read a few books by men in the genre, but not enough to generalize. I read a ton of badass women authors (like EC, KB, KK, MM, LM, HM)!
6. (HM): How do you think female crime authors are perceived vs. male crime authors?
(EC): I think women rule in the suspense genre! So many incredibly talented, smart, savvy authors who are writing the best, most innovative books are women.
(KB): I agree with Emily, but I also think that all genres suffer from a male-dominated industry. Yes, women are writing great books, but so much talent gets overlooked just because the author’s name is female.
(LM): I think male crime writers often get better covers, ones that might appeal to both male and female readers. Not many thrillers by men have a woman in a red coat on the cover, or the back of a woman’s head—or the back of a man’s head, for that matter. Books are often judged by their covers, and it’s unfortunate if some readers are deterred by covers that are unnecessarily feminized.
(MM): I agree with Laura. So much of perception is marketing, and women tend to be packaged and marketed differently than men. I’ve also met male authors who’ve struggled to break into psychological and domestic suspense, two sub-genres that female authors are perceived to dominate.
(ED): I think whatever the perceptions were, they’re rapidly changing. Women—including my fellow responders here—are taking the industry by storm, but we all have to fight the marketing machines and label-makers.
7. (HM): Do any of your experiences influence what you write about?
(EC): My critique partners tell me I’m always writing about nature trying to kill people, which basically reveals the truth that I am not outdoorsy in the least. I write a lot about the south and religion and difficult mother/daughter relationships. Hmm.
(KB):All my experiences influence what I write about, whether consciously or unconsciously. I’m always hearing from family and friends that they recognize me in my stories.
(LM): Same as Kimberly, there are bits and pieces of myself in each of my novels. My most recent book was partly inspired by the unexplained death of my brother; writing about it allowed me to solve a mystery that I can’t solve in real life.
(KK): Absolutely. I’ve seen three dead bodies outside of funeral homes: a drowning, auto accident, and a murder victim. Also, I grew up around law enforcement.
(ED): I have recently realized just how autobiographical writing thrillers and mysteries can be! I used to think I just had a wild imagination, but I often find (after a draft is complete) that I’m deeply embedded in the story, either in the characters or in the issues or worries.
8. (HM): Is there anything you consider too dark to read or write about?
(KB): I’ve written about abuse, missing children, and murder, so...no? But I do tend to choose subjects where I can work towards a bright spot, not necessarily a happily ever after, but I want the reader to get the feeling that my main character will be okay.
(LM): So far, no. I don’t think any topic is off-limits, but it really depends on how the subject matter is approached and depicted.
(MM): I don’t do horror or gore, anything that relies on death as spectacle or entertainment.
(KK): I’m not sure. I’ll let you know if I come across anything that’s too dark for me. It hasn’t happened, yet!
(ED): I can handle most subjects, but there are certainly acts of violence I would rather never imagine or have a reader imagine. If a killer is particularly twisted or gruesome, I’m certainly not going to entertain his/her point of view and I’m not going to remind readers of the details again and again. I’m trying to keep readers up at night, but I’m not trying to give anyone nightmares
9. (HM): Any stereotypes in crime writing that drive you crazy?
(KB): I don’t know about stereotypes, but it is getting harder and harder to stay current and fresh. Where is this genre going next? It’s a constant struggle.
(LM): I occasionally come across crime novels where the supporting characters are undeveloped stereotypes who only show up to serve the hero’s needs—devoted wife, meek secretary, horny waitress. I love character-driven crime fiction, so I tend to put books with flat characters aside.
(MM): Can we be done with the detective haunted by a secret from his past? It’s 2019. Get Talkspace [Online Therapy]. Figure that out before you reluctantly take on your next big case.
10. (HM): How do you feel about deliberately writing unlikeable women? Ever worried it’ll turn the reader off?
(EC): I’ve had people tell me my characters should be more likable. But I find them immensely likable. Not sweet necessarily, but interesting.
(MM): Likeable is a giant catch-all net of a word, isn’t it? What do we mean when we say likable when we hit that like button on a post, or tell someone we liked this character and disliked that one? We could be talking about relatability, about charisma, about strength, humor, or daring. I wish we could strip ‘like’ from our vocabularies and get to the heart of what really attracts or repels us, and why those criteria tend to change with a character’s gender. For my part, I never worry about writing traditionally likable characters, whether men or women, as long as they are compelling. My characters aren’t friendly, but they’re strong. They navigate tumultuous worlds with cores of steel and unique—sometimes highly skewed—definitions of right and wrong.
(ED): Agree… I was told recently to consider softening a character because it seemed that everyone was un-likable, and the reader needed at least one person to cheer for. I understood her point, but I wasn’t sure she was giving the reader enough credit. To me, just because a character makes choices that might be ‘immoral’ or ‘unethical’ to someone, doesn’t mean I discard her or the book. In fact, it makes me want to understand her. I’d rather have a book full of interesting and complicated people. I’ll keep reading as long as I’m curious about where the story is going.
11. (HM): Do you think you’ll ever write something lighter…a romance, perhaps?
(EC): I’m dying to write a romance and a paranormal and also a legal thriller, but I’m not a lawyer so that one is going to be tough.
(KB): Not anytime soon. I am a literary adrenaline junkie, and I’m not sure I could slow myself down enough to work on something else. I love writing—and reading—suspense.
(LM): Not likely. Darkness comes naturally to me. When I started writing, people would ask if I wanted to write children’s books—probably because I was a stay-at-home mom with two young girls—but no one asks that now, after reading my work.
(MM): Is dystopian noir fantasy lighter? Then, yes.
(KK): Probably not. I’m a big fan of ghost stories, though, so I’d like to give that a try.
(ED): I might write another legal thriller, but otherwise, I think this shoe fits. Like KB, I need a certain pace to keep me focused—as a reader and writer—and I find that in thrillers/mysteries/suspense/crime.
Find out more about each author and their latest novels:
Kimberly Belle (KB): – Dear Wife (June 25, 2019): www.kimberlybellebooks.com
Emily Carpenter (EC): – Until the Day I Die (March 12, 2019): www.emilycarpenterauthor.com
EC Diskin (ED): – Desperate Paths (March 19, 2019): www.ecdiskin.com
Karen Katchur (KK): – Cold Woods (August 13, 2019): www.karenkatchur.com
Laura McHugh (LM): – The Wolf Wants In (August 6, 2019): www.lauramchughbooks.com
Mindy Mejia (MM): – Leave No Trace (out now): www.mindymejia.com
Hannah Mary McKinnon was born in the UK, grew up in Switzerland and moved to Canada in 2010. After a successful career in recruitment, she quit the corporate world in favor of writing. Hannah’s third novel Her Secret Son, releases May 28, 2019. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter @HannahMMcKinnon, and Instagram @HannahMaryMcKinnon. For more, visit www.HannahMaryMcKinnon.com
When an Author's Character Takes On a Life of Their Own
I’m a mystery author, and the character I write about is TV journalist Clare Carlson. We’ve had a complex relationship, Clare and me. It started off as a brief fling, but now has somehow grown into something much more long-term. I’m not sure exactly where we’re headed next, but I’m sure Clare will tell me.
Okay, I know Clare is just a work of fiction that I created. But that’s what happens to an author’s character a lot of times: they really do take on a life of their own.
Clare Carlson began as my protagonist in a fifty-page manuscript that I submitted to Killer Nashville for the Claymore Award competitionback in 2016. Clare was an ex-newspaper reporter turned TV news executive trying to uncover the truth about a legendary missing child case in New York City, while at the same time hiding long-buried secrets of her own. I really wasn’t sure there would ever be any more of her other than those fifty pages.
To my surprise, the manuscript—then called Forget Me Not—won the Claymore Award. So I wound up writing a full manuscript about Clare and her exploits in TV news. The book was later sold to Oceanview Publishing, who put it out (under the title of Yesterday’s News) last year.
It was never meant to be more than a stand-alone novel, so I figured I’d say goodbye to Clare after that.
But then the people at Oceanview asked if I’d do another Clare Carlson book. I, of course, said yes.
That book, Below the Fold—about the seemingly insignificant death of a homeless woman on the streets of NYC that leads to shocking revelations about rich and powerful figures—was published on May 7 of this year.
Looking ahead now, I’ve just completed a third Clare Carlson book that will be out in 2020.
During this time, Clare has changed a lot from the woman I envisioned her to be when I wrote those first 50 pages for Killer Nashville. She’s a good person. An interesting person. But she’s also definitely a flawed person—both professionally and personally, she makes some bad decisions. I like her most of the time, but not always.
I’m the one writing the Clare Carlson character, of course.
But she continually surprises me with some of the directions that character takes.
Of course, I’m not the only author who has had this experience with their characters.
Jeffery Deaver told me in an interview not long ago how he originally planned to kill off his popular Lincoln Rhyme character at the end of the first book (by suicide, no less)—but Lincoln Rhymes just refused to die. In the end, Deaver couldn’t pull the trigger on his suicide. I’m sure he’s happy about that now with fourteen best-selling Lincoln Rhyme series books, plus a hit movie in The Bone Collector.
The same sort of thing happened to Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child with their hugely-popular Agent Pendergast. Pendergast was just a minor character in their first few books, taking a back seat to other law enforcement figures. But Pendergast’s personality burst through big time in the third book—and he’s been a huge mystery/thriller fan favorite ever since.
And did you know that Hawk, one of the most beloved characters in Robert B. Parker’s long-running Spenser series, didn’t make his first appearance until the fourth Spenser book? I wonder if Parker thought back then that Hawk would play such a big role in his books. And, for that matter, Susan Silverman—Spenser’s long-time love interest—wasn’t in the first book. She showed up in book two.
Did Parker think Hawk and Susan were just one-time characters in those books when he wrote them? Maybe not, but I doubt that even he envisioned the huge role they would play in all the Spenser novels going forward.
But, like I say, sometimes an author’s character just takes on a life of their own.
They grow. They change. They refuse to die. They go in entirely new directions, and—most surprising of all—they refuse to listen to anything the author tells them to do.
In the end, the author generally winds up letting them have their own way.
Hey, if you don’t believe me, just ask Clare Carlson.
R.G. Belsky is a longtime journalist and a crime fiction author in New York City. Belsky has worked as a top editor at the New York Post, the New York Daily News, Star magazine and NBC News. He has also published 12 mystery novels, including his current Clare Carlson series – about a New York City TV journalist.
Mycroft? Not Sherlock?
In 1969 I was the NBA’s first draft pick. The Milwaukee Bucks had won a coin toss with the Phoenix Suns, which meant that, after four years in warm and sunny L.A., I would be back in the cold and the snow — of a consistency and a tenacity that put New York snow to shame. I ended up reading a lot, both at home and on road trips, and someone gave me a full set of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle, which I devoured. To this day I believe that the act of paying attention to my environment, of looking for clues that reveal weaknesses in other players, helped my game. Frankly, I thought that was going to be as far as my love affair with all things Holmes went.
Fast forward to 2013. At that point, I had been retired for several years and already had several books under my belt, including two autobiographies, another about my time coaching kids on a Native American reservation, one about African Americans who served with distinction in World War II, yet another about the Harlem Renaissance, even a few children’s books. That’s when my manager and producing partner, Deborah Morales, asked me if I had ever thought about writing a novel.
No, I said. But if I were to write one, it would be an exploration on Sherlock Holmes’s older and lesser-known brother Mycroft.
Needless to say, Deborah didn’t hear the cash register ring. But, dutiful soul that she is, she brought aboard our friend Anna Waterhouse, a screenwriter who had helped produce two documentaries with us, one which aired on HBO, the other which ended up winning the NAACP Award for Best Documentary. Anna admitted that she didn’t know much about Mycroft Holmes (or Sherlock, for that matter), but that she was willing to investigate.
We began work on the first novel, Mycroft Holmes, in 2014, which came out in September 2015 to great reviews and surprisingly good sales. We deepened our understanding of his character, and of Sherlock’s, in Mycroft and Sherlock, which came out October 9 of this year (2018). Then, recently, we turned in our third novel in the series, which will be published at the end of 2019.
The first book only features Sherlock in one chapter, whereas in Mycroft and Sherlock they’re almost evenly divided. And our characters are young, by the way: in book two, Mycroft is only 26 and Sherlock is 19. They’re still discovering things about themselves and each other. They’re still making mistakes. They have a ways to go before they inhabit the characters that Conan Doyle writes about.
Frankly, the differences between the brothers are more compelling than their similarities, but let’s get the similarities out of the way. They’re both extremely keen observers of human nature, and of details in nature that most of us wouldn’t notice on a bet. They’re both willful and eccentric, wrapped up in their own internal worlds (understandable, since the external world can barely keep up with them). But whereas Sherlock is fascinated by crime and criminals, and like a bloodhound on the scent is determined to “get his man,” Mycroft is interested only in the bigger picture: the criminals whose misdeeds might upset the global balance, especially if doing so can in any way injure his beloved England. And, whereas Sherlock studies different sorts of cigarette and cigar ash, paper stock, or the tracks that vehicles make in order to become more proficient at reading clues, Mycroft is blessed and cursed with a photographic memory and the ability to speed read. Since genius comes more easily to him than to Sherlock, he tends to treat it the way most of us treat our fingers: convenient, sure; but not really something we give a great deal of thought to. This of course annoys Sherlock no end, as does Mycroft’s dismissal of anything that interests Sherlock.
Mycroft is also, by nature, more conventional than Sherlock. While Sherlock has no interest in courtship, Mycroft would like nothing better than to have a home and a family. Since we know that can never be — because Conan Doyle kept them both bachelors — as authors, it is our sad duty to be sure that Mycroft can’t ever get what he wants in the romance department.
The parts of the novel that seem to be the most fun for readers are the ones that feature both brothers working together, and yet keeping secrets from each other and trying to outmaneuver each other. These competitions between siblings are a lot of fun for us to write, especially given that both Anna and I are only children. It’s all the arguments we would have had with siblings, I guess, if we’d had the chance.
And of course, in starting them so young, we can also delve into how they were raised and how that might account for their behavior and their oddities. Conan Doyle tells us only that their parents were “country squires,” meaning landowners, so it gives us a lot of leeway to speculate.
Whatever happens from this point on, I’ve really enjoyed putting together these stories — more like gigantic puzzles, really — and I’m grateful for the opportunity to continue to explore these fascinating characters. A big thanks to Arthur Conan Doyle, and an even bigger thanks to our faithful readers.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is a global icon that changed the game of professional basketball. Since his stellar professional career, he has gone on to become a celebrated New York Times-bestselling author, filmmaker, ambassador of education, and Time Magazine columnist. A sought-after speaker, Abdul-Jabbar recounts in riveting and humorous detail his exciting evolution from street ball player to successful athlete, author, producer, and community activist.
Full Disclosure
“Write what you know” is the age-old advice new writers usually get. As a result, we get a fair number of novels where the protagonist is rather similar to the author, except, of course, smarter, buffer, and all around more exciting. There’s nothing wrong with that. If you’re going to make up stuff, why not draw on, well, what you know. It makes the making-up part of writing a little easier. We writers have to work hard enough to make sure the stuff any reader can check up on is correct, never mind coming up with an entirely new character. Now, if you are (or were) a cop, a dancer, a reporter, a firefighter, or a CIA analyst, then taking that personal experience and making it more dramatic makes perfect sense. Take off a few years (and pounds), add a few muscles and a great plot, and you’re good to go.
That didn’t work for me. When I began writing crime fiction, I faced an existential dilemma. I’d never been at the receiving end of a crime. My own transgressions were rather pathetically minor. Something like a couple of parking tickets and a few encounters with illegal substances. I’ve never even been pulled over. The closest I got to a gun was during my military service in Germany in the mid-1970s. And then, I became…wait for it…a professor. How can I write international thrillers based on what I know? I know how to keep students mildly entertained, I know how to write articles that only my best friends read (if they are nice). Sure, I’ve traveled to many exotic places, but, again, never to war zones, never to disaster areas. I’m male, I’m white, I’ve had all the privileges that come with those social constructions. Consequently, I’ve lived a rather calm, predictable, even sheltered life. As far as crime fiction is concerned, I don’t know a damn thing.
Okay, now let’s take a quick detour. I recently had the occasion to interview an author of creative nonfiction. In preparation for the interview, I read some of her essays published in a variety of reputable outlets. The essays I read were autobiographical but were told with all the tools creative writing offers. There was a degree of intimacy in those essays that made me feel a little like a voyeur. They were sad, at times shocking, but also funny. I kept forgetting that these stories had really happened. I asked her about this, and she stated plainly that she doesn’t shy away from disclosing truths that are very personal. Those disclosures create vulnerability, but they also offer points of connection with the reader.
Back to the main point. Unlike that author, I don’t reveal personal truths in my thrillers. My protagonist is not at all like me. He’s younger, fitter, knows accounting, and speaks French, Flemish, German, and English. He’s stubborn, has the tenacity of a bulldog, everything you’d expect from a protagonist. But he isn’t my better, more desirable self. I don’t wish I were him, hell no.
The more I thought about the disconnect between who I am and what I write, the more I realized that I wasn’t being honest. I do know international and African studies (my academic fields), so there’s plenty of material for international thrillers. But knowing stuff doesn’t, by itself, make for a compelling story. The missing ingredient is empathy. Yup, you read right, empathy. I know it sounds crazy. Do you need to have empathy to write thrillers? I say yes. And this is where the lessons from the author I interviewed started to make sense. I’m not writing about my own life, but I write about the lives of people I’ve invented. It behooves me to create each of these characters with empathy, to feel what they are feeling as best as I can. By letting my characters act, love, and suffer in specific ways, I reveal something about myself. This is my version of letting myself be vulnerable. To the extent that my readers resonate with those emotions, I’ve made a connection with them. We connect over the shared sense that a specific character reaction to a situation sounds true to us because we can feel with them. It’s quite different from an autobiographical essay, few readers will be able to say, “Aha, so that’s who Michael Niemann really is.” And that quite alright with me.
Fostering empathy can be learned. For me, the starting point was learning Nonviolent Communication as pioneered by Marshall Rosenberg. For others, it may be something else. But employing empathy, being vulnerable and showing how I would feel in a given situation helps me create more plausible characters. This is especially important when it comes to writing antagonists. We don’t need more cardboard cutouts for villains. They, too, need to be real human beings, not ones we like, but still ones acting to meet their needs, even if their strategies for doing so are terribly harmful.
So, write what you know, but not only in the sense of rational knowledge, write also what you feel deeply and let yourself be vulnerable while you do it.
Michael Niemann grew up in a small town in western Germany before moving to the United States. He has studied at the Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms Universität in Bonn, Germany, and the Graduate School of International Studies, University of Denver where he received his PhD in International Studies. He now lives in southern Oregon with his dog Stanley.
Michael's latest thriller, NO RIGHT WAY, releases on June 11, 2019. It is available for pre-order here: https://amzn.to/2v0aqpf
You can visit him at his website, www.michael-niemann.com.
Getting the Most Out Of Your Supporting Cast
You’ve spent a lot of time developing your protagonist. She has a good backstory, motivations, internal conflicts, a favorite coffee creamer—everything she needs to be a compelling lead for your story. Now it’s time to make sure she’s surrounded by a great supporting cast. But don’t be misled by the word “supporting.” Sometimes, an ally’s most important job will be to challenge her.
As a crime writer, it’s inevitable that you’re going to put your protagonist in some tough situations. The decisions she makes about how to deal with those situations will either make or break your story. Many of those decisions will need to be exceptional, if not outright unbelievable.
Why would she pursue the killer on her own? Through the woods? At night? And without so much as bug spray to protect her, let alone something useful like a flashlight or a gun? Shouldn’t she just call the police and wait for them to arrive? Preferably in the safety of a large public area like a nearby grocery store or a strip mall?
It’s your job to answer these questions so they don’t linger in the readers’ minds. And your answers have to be good enough to allow them to suspend disbelief. Otherwise, that disbelief will be a roadblock for them.
Your protagonist is going to have to justify her decisions. There are two basic ways she can do this: she can explain her decisions to herself by thinking about them, or she can explain them to someone else through dialogue. Without a doubt, the second option is better than the first.
Your protagonist will spend an abundance of story time thinking about stuff. In fact, regardless of whether your story is told using a first person or a limited third person point of view (omniscient should be avoided in most cases), the reader will basically be living inside her head. Explanation through dialogue can be a welcome break. So who will she be explaining her decisions to?
One of the best uses of your supporting characters can be their ability to voice the concerns of your readers. Assuming you know ahead of time what questions they may have (and you should), your protagonist’s friends or allies can be the ones to ask them.
You’re going after him on your own? Are you crazy? You don’t even have bug spray!
Ultimately, whatever her justification is, it should be good enough to sway the reader, but it doesn’t have to change the mind of the supporting character. This can add a nice bit of conflict that further isolates your protagonist. One more device to raise the tension in the story.
For better or worse, supporting characters often resemble archetypes. Without intending to, I’ve been guilty of relying on three of them in particular: the mentor, the fan, and the sidekick/partner/best friend/love interest (yes, these can all be the same person). Each of these characters can question a different aspect of your protagonist’s decision-making process.
The mentor is good at questioning whether she may be abandoning some principle or lesson that he taught her in the past. You’re going after him on your own? I’ve told you a thousand times, always wait for backup!
The fan can give her a push when she might be reluctant. You’re not going after him? But we’re all counting on you to catch the bad guy!
And the sidekick/partner/best friend/ love interest can express the most concern for her personal safety. I can’t let you go in those woods alone. You don’t even have…
You get the idea. You’ve created a new world and populated it with interesting people. Maximize their utility. Let those characters who are closest to your protagonist challenge her. Not only will your readers sympathize, but the extra tension may make the story even more compelling.
While J. R. Backlund's heart resides in North Carolina, where he was born, his parents transplanted him to the Sunshine State before he was old enough to put up a fight. Prior to writing his first novel, he studied journalism at the University of Florida, then took a thirteen-year detour in construction management before getting back to telling stories. He lives in Jacksonville with his wife and their furry children -- they don't like it when he calls them dogs.
The Occult Thrill of Research by Mike Suave
Norman Mailer called writing “The Spooky Art.” It is spookiest for me when I type a word without overt knowledge of its meaning, and upon Googling that word it makes perfect sense in the context I’ve used it. Presumably, I have either read or heard that word when I was paying scant attention. While there’s nothing spooky about the subconscious encoding of information, that information’s eventual reassertion at the conscious level can certainly feel that way. It goes beyond words: entire concepts and situations I’ve read about years ago often fortuitously reappear at the crux of narrative pressure. This is not luck. Those words and concepts would never be available to me as outputs if they hadn’t once been inputs.
If maximizing these inputs sounds like the domain of the non-fiction writer, or like a homework assignment, or too far afield from the creative life you’ve chosen, this article will show how research doesn’t have to be the domain of the poor-postured fellow burning the midnight oil at the library, glasses forever sliding down the crook of his nose, attractive members of the opposite sex knocking books out of his hands in the hallway—rather, it is the domain of the active and engaged individual who is trying to get the most out of life.
I’ve always been a fickle reader. I’ll never understand people who must finish a book once they’ve started. There are far too many significant books to read for even the most curatorially-discerning reader to possibly get to. Stanley Kubrick would choose books from his library at random because of this very understanding. He knew that he wasn’t going to read all the books he wanted to in his life, so why waste any extra time picking and choosing. Look around you and notice the world is full of books. They sit in massive institutions, some untouched for decades if not centuries. They are in your grandmother’s attic. They abut the large doily departments in the massive chain bookstores. This may be sacrilegious to tell a readership of writers, but I often go to Indigo (the Canadian equivalent of Barnes and Noble), and after resting briefly in the bedware section, I take pictures of interesting books so that I can I order them from the library. My money tends to go to used book stores. I have a hypothesis that all the books you’re meant to read in a lifetime are waiting to manifest themselves in the dollar bin. If you go to the bookstore or Amazon with a subject in mind, you’ll never get too far outside the boundaries of what you already know. Let fate play its hand and you will be taken in new and strange directions.
Even for those with the time to read, phone-based distractions alone make it increasingly difficult to physically read for extended periods. Here’s where audiobooks come in. Some audiobook consumers complain that they struggle to maintain focus. I’d counter that, for my purposes, it doesn’t matter if I catch everything. Much like the arcane dollar bin offering, relevant passages have a way of grabbing my attention, while what’s superfluous is mere background noise that keeps my negative thought cycles down to a dull roar. More importantly, audiobooks make quotidian daily life feel like a part of the writing routine. Commuting to work is no longer a tedious thief stealing time from your writerly pursuits. Now this otherwise dreary process is contributing to them. Some of the more pencil-necked variants of the writerly species have a natural antipathy towards the grunting meatheads at the gym, but I can assure you there is nothing more rewarding than pursuing gains while learning the things you need to learn to make your novel as good as it can be.
Traditional research can feel like muh gains in its own right. I feel pretty darn self-actualized with a stack of books a dozen-high at the reference library. Don’t get me started on the ego-salving pleasures of requesting a roll of microfiche or making a stacks request. And it probably doesn’t need to be said that a giant reference library is the most mysterious dollar bin in the world. I believe these simple acts of apprenticeship build more confidence for novice writers than all the fraudulent #amwriting hashtags in the world. I’ve got a status update for you: if you’re tweeting #AmWriting you aren’t writing. You are tweeting.
The book I recently finished, The Many Fentanyl Addicted Wraiths of Sault Ste. Marie, contains a number of subjects I was not well-versed in: from broad areas like local history and the opiate epidemic to more specific details involving the scientific process of erosion. With the opiates and the history, I was happy to dive as deep as possible. I listened to Dreamland: The True Tale of America’s Opiate Epidemic and Dopesick and read New York Times features on the opiate epidemic that were closer to non-fiction novel than magazine article. This never felt like work. I was writing a book about the opiate epidemic because I am concerned and angered by the opiate epidemic. It’s set in my hometown because I am unhealthily fixated upon my hometown. Every gap in understanding presented a challenge that I was eager to meet. I didn’t know where I’d find all the answers because I didn’t even know the questions. But whenever I found the right spool of microfiche or a dusty old pamphlet on Sault Ste. Marie in the Depression, I felt like I’d done some “high level problem solving with dire physical consequences” as erudite meathead Joe Rogan is fond of saying, even if the consequences never really amounted to anything more than embarrassing myself by getting something wrong or leaving something out. With the erosion, yeah I just Googled some stuff about erosion. That’s cool too.
Of course there is a danger of relying too heavily on your research. If I quoted every statistic I came across on the opiate epidemic, every captivating quote from a musty old volume, not only would it be wonkish and boring, but it would be the most dreadful type of arrogance—that of the windbag. However, I did occasionally come across words or concepts so interesting, such as nociceptive pain in The Many Fentanyl Addicted Wraiths of Sault Ste. Marie, that I can’t help but include them, even if it’s not worth devoting extra paragraphs to explaining all the nociceptional ins and outs. I’ve always hated when editors or beta readers say, “I had to look this up. The reader wouldn’t know what this means.” That’s kind of the point here. I read stuff all the time and I don’t know what it means. Then I read more about it. Then I know what it means.
But hopefully, the reader won’t think too much about the sausage being made. They probably won’t care that I got the erosion details correct. Or hopefully they’ll think something subconsciously themselves, such as, “Boy that guys knows a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff.” I can recall thinking this when I first read Infinite Jest, which, despite its co-opting by the unwashed hipster masses, remains no less towering an accomplishment twenty years after its publication. And so but then I learned more about David Foster Wallace and realized that he basically spent his life in libraries. He begins that book with the words:
“I read," I say. "I study and read. I bet I've read everything you read. Don't think I haven't. I consume libraries. I wear out spines and ROM-drives. I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it."
In other words, even encyclopedic novels aren’t written by people with encyclopedic brains. They’re written by people with encyclopedias in front of them. And the bygone encyclopedias of yesterday behind them.
Remember I told you about words popping into my head that had the exact meaning I required of them. My next novel will address the thought experiment of Roko’s Basilisk, which in good conscious I must encourage you not to Google. The line that popped into my head was Non-Linear Causality is the Demon of this World. At the time I must have half-known how non-linear causality would be defined, but upon Googling it, Complexity Labs defined it as, “a form of causation where cause and effect can flow in a bidirectional fashion.” In other words, the future is capable of influencing the past. This is essentially what Roko’s Basilisk is all about. And it’s perhaps what was happening when David Foster Wallace was reading about game theory as an undergraduate. That future Eschaton scene in Infinite Jest was writing itself years before it would ever be written. The thrill of research is that its fruits manifest themselves by means of the writer’s accumulated knowledge. The occult thrill of research is that this knowledge appears to have an acausal desire to manifest itself.
Mike Sauve has written non-fiction for The National Post, Variety, and elsewhere. His short fiction has appeared in McSweeney's and many other publications. He is the author of three books with Montag Press: The Wraith of Skrellman, The Apocalypse of Lloyd, and most recently I Ain't Got No Home In This World Anymore, which Publisher's Weekly called "A Philip K. Dick plot as channeled by a delirious Hunter S. Thompson."
Don’t Forget the Mood Music
Have you ever seen a movie you would have enjoyed more if the music hadn’t fallen flat? Music plays a vital role in the emotional impact of a movie. It creates atmosphere and emotion. For the music to work effectively with the movie, it must be in the background and almost imperceptible to you as you’re caught up in the story.
Music can make or break a movie. The same is true for your novel.
Music in a movie lets you know when to be afraid or sit on the edge of your seat in a tense scene. It increases the force of the action. The right music creates meaning and is just as important as the cinematography and other elements of a movie. That’s true for your novel, too. I’m not talking about listening to music while you write, rather I’m drawing a parallel to how music can set mood, and your writing choices can do the same for your novel. You can create “music” with your words. As a novelist, it’s up to you to choose the right tools from your writer’s toolbox to create the perfect mood music within your stories.
Set your novel to the wrong music and you’ll miss the mark.
Mood is an often-forgotten important element in your story and is as vital to the life of your novel as plot, tension, character development, and setting.
But what exactly is mood in literature?
Simply stated, it’s the emotional response or the feelings your writing creates in the reader. It’s easy enough to see how music creates various moods when it comes to movies. For instance, the kind of music that accompanies a horror flick creates a sense of terror in us. Music that accompanies romantic comedy makes us laugh or smile. Action packed movies meant for the man cave make us tense and chick flicks can require boxes of tissues. The eerie music that accompanies science fiction creeps some of us out. The point is that you somehow have to create the background music—the mood—in your novel.
Why is mood important?
Your novel means nothing if you don’t hook your readers on the deepest emotional level. It’s all about making that emotional connection. Once readers are hooked they’re in it for the whole ride. If your characters aren’t relatable on an emotional level and the right mood isn’t created, then you’ve lost the reader.
Mood is key to hooking and keeping them.
How do you create “music” that sets the mood for your story?First, know where you’re going. Know what emotional reaction you’re aiming for with the novel as a whole, and then also in each scene. For example, are you going for suspense, fear, hope, desperation, or joy?
Once you know what mood you’re trying to create, take advantage of basic writing tools to create the right mood music.
Setting is the first crucial element in creating the mood you want in your story. For example, to create mood for a suspense novel you could use a curvy mountain road on a stormy night. A gloomy, crumbling mansion set on a cliff with crashing waves below. A cold empty warehouse. Place your protagonist in any of these settings and your reader will feel the sense of foreboding.
If you’re going for a light-hearted romance, you’ll want a bright internet café set in a small town. Or you could use a beautiful beach on a bright sunny day. You get the picture.
Then use the right words for the mood you’re creating. Of course, you’re a writer so you always strive to use the right words. When creating the right mood, word choice is a major player. Choose more menacing words for a suspenseful scene, adding to the suspenseful setting you’ve already selected. On the contrary, use light-hearted and fun words for a more playful mood.
Next, pacing is essential to mood. Pacing is tied to using the right words in the appropriate types of sentences. Short, snappy sentences quicken the pace and coupled with the right word choices, can create a thrill ride or terror. Excitement or fury. On the other hand, long, flowing, and lyrical sentences can produce feelings of wonder or desperation.
In your novel, you’ll use different pacing throughout, much like the movements in a symphony—fast-paced or allegro, or slower, andante or adagio.
These are only a few of the tools from your writer’s toolbox. Use them well and you’ll have a symphony at your disposal to create the right “music” that will set the mood and effectively hook your reader until the satisfying finale.
Elizabeth Goddard is the bestselling author of more than thirty books, including the Carol Award-winning The Camera Never Lies. Her Mountain Cove series books have been finalists in the Daphne du Maurier Awards and the Carol Awards. Goddard is a seventh-generation Texan and can be found online at www.elizabethgoddard.com.
Crime Writer Resources by Patricia Bradley
We are told to write what we know. If I did that, it would be BORING. So I write what I want to learn about. Wait, that’s not exactly accurate. I write romantic suspense that includes murder, and I really don’t want to experience murder.
Often, writers deal with topics and situations that some people might not call normal. Things like how to blow up a house, or poison someone, or how a silencer sounds, or even how to write a fight scene. I’ve accumulated a few sites and resources that I’d like to share with you.
While writing my latest Memphis Cold Case novel, Justice Delivered (releasing April 2, 2019), I needed information on human trafficking and discovered the CDC has an excellent site. Most states have organizations dedicated to eradicating human trafficking and if you’re writing about the subject, get in touch with an organization close to you. Here in Mississippi, Advocates for Freedom works tirelessly to get victims out of trafficking, and they provided me with firsthand knowledge of the subject.
Lee Lofland has a great blog to help writers get their facts straight—https://www.leelofland.com/the-graveyard-shift-blog/. Before I was published I entered my first chapter in a contest. Here’s a sentence from what I submitted: “The smell of cordite burned her eyes.” No, it wasn’t a historical mystery (cordite is no longer used in bullet-making). Thank goodness one of the contest judges told me about Lee’s blog. I have learned so much from his writing. He also has a great conference—Writer’s Police Academy. If your story deals in any way with law enforcement, this is a great conference to attend. You can find out more about it on the Facebook page.
Another favorite resource is the Crime Scene Writer forum. https://groups.io/g/Crimescenewriter2/
This forum has the best of the best and everyone on the forum is willing to help writers. Have a question about a body? Submit it to the forum and you’ll get your answer. Same thing with questions about guns, arrests, even whether police officers can keep their personal cell phones with them while on duty. Sample topics have been things like the rate the body absorbs GHB, toxicology reports, and a murder board.
The murder board brings me to another resource. Actually two. I first read about creating a murder board at The Killzone blog. There are some heavy hitters on this blog and like Lee Lofland’s blog and the Crimescene forum, the posts each day are geared to help writers. This is where I first heard about a murder board. I was floundering in my WIP and someone on the blog mentioned the board. Wow! Creating a murder board literally solved my plot problems. I was able to “see” my victim and the suspects and move them around as I needed.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention YouTube. A writer can learn anything on YouTube! I’ve watched videos showing how loud a silencer is. (Not like it’s depicted on TV, for sure!) I’ve learned about different guns and to never call a magazine a clip!
Another great resource is Carla Hoch, who is a self-defense expert. She has a great blog called Fight Right. Since I’m not an expert in fighting, it’s great to know someone who is. She has several great blogs on how to write fight scenes along with tips on terminology and footwork. In June her Writer’s Digest book, How to Write Believable Fight Scenes, releases.
Last, but not least is the Killer Nashville conference. It is awesome! Their mock crime scene is worth the cost of the conference! But beyond that, for me just rubbing elbows with people who “get” me is great. Everyone is so helpful and willing to share their knowledge. A writer can make lifelong contacts here!
I hope these resources will help you as a writer. None of them were available when I first started writing. If they had been, it would have made my writing journey easier. And remember—there has never been a better time to write and gain the knowledge you need for your stories. Now go write something wonderful!
Patricia Bradley is the author of Justice Delayed and Justice Buried, as well as the Logan Point series. Her latest title, Justice Delivered, releases April 2, 2019. Bradley won an Inspirational Readers Choice Award in Suspense, was a finalist for the Genesis Award, won a Daphne du Maurier Award, and won a Touched by Love Award. She is co-founder of Aiming for Healthy Families, Inc., and she is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America. Bradley makes her home in Mississippi.
Visit her at https://ptbradley.com/
Place in Fiction by Peter Gadol
Every author has aspects of narrative that he or she looks forward to in writing a book, and also areas he or she may wish to ignore (I’m thinking of the way, say, Joan Didion will ignore basic stage management in any given scene; no one ever crosses a street or sits down at a table in her fiction). For my part, I love writing about place. Setting is something I think about pretty much nonstop while moving through a first draft and subsequent revisions. It’s no surprise then that novelists whom I admire likewise seem extra-sensitive to the landscapes in their books. For me, the ancestral home at the center of Tana French’s new novel The Witch Elm becomes a lively secondary character in the narrator, Toby’s, story, a backdrop certainly, but also a foil. A certain elm tree on the property emerges as a vivid centerpiece around which the thriller turns.
I’m not sure where my interest in literary place comes from except to say I always thought AA Milne could have done more to describe Hundred Acre Wood. I’ve been very fortunate as an adult to travel abroad, but books afforded me my first explorations (actually my favorite book was the Atlas). Whenever I do travel now, I find I’m hyperalert, absorbing what details come my way, the stone streets, the faces in a market—and I want to instill in my readers the same wonder about the setting, even if I’m writing about a place they might know well.
If this resonates for you and narrative place is something you, too, are keen on, there are some essential principles I think you can keep in mind while writing:
1. Setting is dynamic.
Too often writers think about setting in the way they do about exposition as if it’s all about information that once dispatched can be filed away so the reader can barrel into the main action. It’s true that a reader will want to be located and perhaps understand what broadly lies within the perimeter of a central place, but as the chapters unfold, new areas within that space can be drawn. I’m thinking of the first section of Ian McEwan’s Atonement; readers are continually brought into different rooms in the manor, various cottages on the estate, and quite significantly to various dark gardens on the grounds.
The way I think of it, the work of depicting setting is never done, and sometimes when we go back to certain spaces we’ve already read about, they are renovated in ways that deepen the plot. I’m thinking of another Ian McEwan novel, The Comfort of Strangers, wherein lovely, mysterious Venice becomes disturbing, violent Venice.
2. Setting can function like a secondary character.
I’m less interested in idyllic, perfect fictional places than I am in places that propose conflicts for protagonists in the way secondary characters might. Mystery and thriller writers know this well. You can pick up any novel by Arnaldur Indridason and see the way the contained city of Reykjavík is like Detective Erlendur’s old friend; he knows its every street, its every trick. And yet the city again and again presents complex puzzles and, as is the case in Jar City, reveals its sinister history, hitherto opaque for our hero. Detective Erlendur will never really know Reykjavík completely, no one can.
3. Weather can deepen the tone—and climate is also dynamic.
When I define melodrama for my students, I like to refer to the classic Douglas Sirk film in which a woman is feeling melancholic and leans against a window; outside it is raining; the mood indoors and out is the same. But one needn’t descend into Sirkian expressionism to paint the mood—although rain works, certainly! Look at Michael Ondaatje’s Anil’s Ghost, set in Sri Lanka, for some good monsoon/fever manipulation. I like to point to Scott Smith’s A Simple Plan as a great example of the way the dynamic climate can relate to plot: How long will snow cover up a wrecked plane? And when will a thaw reveal it? Speaking of snow, over twenty-five years later I still recall needing to wrap myself in an extra blanket when reading Peter Høeg’s Smilla’s Sense of Snow.
4. The way one draws setting will create useful constraints.
Every aspect of writing is variable, and every writer consequently designs the internal rules for a book, the constraints necessary to give it shape. In choosing a certain point-of-view, we recognize we may be closed off from limning certain characters’ thoughts. Similarly, we make choices about setting that guide us. Is our depiction of a fictional place accurate to a real place? Are we being true to an actual map? And if the work isn’t set in the present day, are we following an appropriate historic map? Or maybe we want to wholly invent the location for our work. Although even then, there will be the question of whether our invented town or canyon or street sits in proximity to known places in the real world of the reader. Then again, some authors choose to create new worlds with new architecture and new physics (see Renee Gladman’s Ravicka trilogy).
I’m very interested in books like Jim Crace’s Harvest, which would seem to be set in the agrarian English countryside at the advent of industrialization. Yet that’s never stated explicitly, and within the hermetic world of this bleak novel, we’re left to contemplate how outsiders in small communities are blamed, demonized, and tortured. Or there are works like José Saramago’s Blindness, a nameless state wherein the population mysteriously becomes sightless and descends into anarchy—or JM Coetzee’s Childhood of Jesus series, another invented place that seems topographically and linguistically to resemble an Iberian state but not explicitly so. Crace, Saramago, and Coetzee all stay within a familiar earthly realm (unlike Gladman), yet we’re never sure where exactly we are—but we inevitably see in these invented places our own world universally reflected.
5. Setting can generate plot.
Sometimes when we plan our novels, we know where we’re going; more often we don’t, or perhaps we have a general direction, but how exactly we’ll write out the chapters remains unknown and we make discoveries along the way. And when that happens, I’ve found that setting can generate plot. When I was first writing The Stranger Game, I took my narrator Rebecca on a hike in the park north in a city not unlike Los Angeles and had her come up on a house abandoned during its construction; because of something she hears in the house, she explores and witnesses some people who might be playing the eponymous game wherein people are randomly following strangers. I knew that the book would wind toward a criminal twist, but didn’t know where exactly to stage what I wanted to happen. It worked out well to take Rebecca back to the abandoned house. And then, well, without giving too much away, I’ll just say that for yet another plot turn, I decided to take the narrator and the reader back there again.
About the vital importance of place in fiction, maybe Eudora Welty articulated it best: “Every story would be another story, and unrecognizable as art if it took up its characters and plot and happened somewhere else. …Fiction depends for its life on place.”
Peter Gadol’s seventh novel The Stranger Game was recently published by Hanover Square Press / HarperCollins and listed as a Kirkus Reviews Best Books of 2018. FX is developing The Stranger Game as a television series. Gadol’s other novels include Silver Lake, Light at Dusk, and The Long Rain. His work has appeared in foreign editions and in journals such as Tin House, StoryQuarterly, and the Los Angeles Review of Books Quarterly Journal. A past NEA fellow, Gadol is Chair of MFA Writing at Otis College of Art and Design and lives in Los Angeles.
www.petergadol.com
Plotting or Pantsing? Which is better? by Lynette Eason
Getting from POINT A to POINT B isn’t always in a straight line
Do you ever sit down to start a new project and stare at your screen with equal parts anticipation and fear? I’ve written right at 50 books, novellas, etc. I’m traditionally published, which means when I sit down to write a story, I’ve already been paid for half of it. That, in turn, means I have to write the story or I have to give the money back. And since the money’s usually already spent…well, you get the idea. There’s no turning back at this point. Somehow, I have to start this story and finish it. And, in the end, it has to be phenomenal. Or at least publishable.
Last month, I turned in the last story in the Blue Justice series. So, while that series has come to an end, it was time to start the first book in the next series. I’ll be honest. The first book always terrifies me. Why? Because I put so much pressure on myself to get it right and that’s generally a crapshoot because, by nature, I’m not a huge plotter. So what does that mean? It means that I don’t really get it right the first time and I have to go back and make changes as the story unfolds.
But wouldn’t it be easier to simply plot the story out?
Maybe, but since I write on such tight deadlines, I don’t always have the time to spend plotting and thinking, thinking and plotting. I have to get the words on the page and then fix them later. However, that’s not to say that I don’t have a process that works for me. And it’s usually a route that takes me around my elbow to get to my rear.
I tend to start out with a character sketch then I figure out the first scene—and sometimes the last— then jump into the story without any real idea of where I’m going. Sometimes I struggle my way through it and swear that with the next book, I’m going to plot everything in advance, and then in the end, it just works out. Sure, I have to go back and add in red herrings or foreshadowing or tweak a character’s reaction to a situation or whatever, but again, in the end, the story works. Other times, those rare times, the story just flows. Like a gift, the words come as the scenes play out in my head and the characters do what they’re supposed to do. Code of Valor, book 3 in the Blue Justice series was one of those stories. I struggled with it a bit in the beginning, but as soon as I got the first few scenes done, I knew the rest of the story and where it needed to go.
Because I don’t use storyboarding or mapping or any of those really creative, cool devices, I get asked a lot of times how I do it.
“How can you just sit down and write and, in the end, have a story that not only works, but has all of the loose ends tied up in a way that makes sense?”
Aside from having fabulous editors that catch mistakes, I think it comes down to characterization. For me, I have to know my characters. I have to know how they think, how they react to life in general, their strengths and weaknesses, etc. Then I put them in situations where they have to draw on their strengths and overcome their weaknesses in order to grow and become a different person by the end of the story—a better person. And sometimes they have someone in their lives that helps make that happen.
In Code of Valor, my heroine comes from a very abusive past, but, thanks to counseling and someone in her life who graced her with unconditional love, she was able to overcome a lot of her issues. She learned her self-worth doesn’t come from what other people think of her and that just because she made some mistakes in the past, doesn’t mean she has no hope of a successful, happy future.
And, in the end, I wind up taking these characters on a life altering journey. A journey that allows me to experience the ups and downs and surprises along with them. A lot of people argue that you can’t have a really great story unless you plot it out in detail, but I know a lot of people who’d argue with that statement. Lee Child is one of those. I was at a conference and he stated that often he didn’t know what he was going to write in the next paragraph, much less the next scene. I wish I could have told him how much I appreciated that! Then there’s Jeffrey Deaver who said he takes eight months to plot out his novel then writes 110,000 words in six weeks. I might have been a bit jealous, but I’m sticking with what works for me.
And that’s my point. There’s no wrong way to write a novel. Plotter, pantser, or plantser. There’s only the right way—and that’s the way that works for you.
What about you? What’s your system? What works for you?
Lynette Eason is the bestselling author of Oath of Honor, as well as the Women of Justice series, the Deadly Reunions series, the Hidden Identity series, and the Elite Guardians series. She is the winner of two ACFW Carol Awards, the Selah Award, and the Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award. She has a master’s degree in education from Converse College and lives in South Carolina. Learn more at www.lynetteeason.com.
How to Write a Killer Query Letter by Ellie Alexander
You finished your first manuscript—congratulations! Now what? How do you start the process of finding an agent and how do you write the (gasp) dreaded query letter?
My first piece of advice for writers beginning the querying process is to take a minute to celebrate the success of writing a novel. It’s no small feat. You should feel proud of your accomplishment. Go ahead and toast with a glass of champagne or take yourself out to dinner. After you’ve reveled in the moment, the real work begins.
Step One—research. It’s time to hit the bookstore or library. Spend an afternoon perusing the shelves to see where your book fits best. Nothing will get you a rejection faster than sending a query letter to an agent who doesn’t represent your book’s genre. Is your book fiction? Nonfiction? Where does it fall within sub-genres? For example, if you’re writing a mystery is it a traditional mystery, true crime, noir, historical, or cozy? Figure out exactly where your book will be shelved once it’s published. Believe it or not, this is one area where many new writers stumble. I recently reviewed a query letter of a writer who opened by saying, “My book appeals to all readers in all genres.” She was surprised when she got rejected by every agent she had queried. Publishing is a business and agents and editors need to know how to position your book in order to sell it.
Step two—complementary titles. While you’re on your research mission, pick a handful of titles that are similar in tone and style to your book. Read them! Don’t skip this step. Trust me. If you find that the books you’ve chosen aren’t a good match, go back and get another stack until you find five to six titles that are complimentary. Scour the acknowledgments section. Did the author thank their agent? Wahoo! You got lucky. Make a note and move on to the next book. If not, you’ll have to use some sleuthing skills online to see if you can find out who represented each author.
Step three—your dream list. Using the information you’ve learned, begin compiling a dream list of agents. This should include the agents who represent similar titles. It can also expand to agents you’ve met at a writing conference, discovered on Twitter, or who were recommended by a friend. Agent query (www.agentquery.com) is a great resource to find agents who are actively seeking new clients. You can search by genre and keywords. Your dream list should include fifteen to twenty agents to start.
Step four—cyberstalking. This is the one time when a little cyberstalking is acceptable. Visit the website of each agent on your dream list. Read their profiles. Learn what kind of books they’re interested in and what their submission requirements are. Some agents accept email queries. Some want sample chapters. Some request book proposals. Take extensive notes. Do NOT send agents perfumed packages or promises of chocolates and your first-born child. This “stalking” exercise is to ensure that each agent on your list is a good match for your project and that when you’re ready to start the query process you’ll know the exact requirements for each agent.
Step five—time to write. Start with a one to two sentence introduction that includes why you’re querying this agent, the title of your book, genre, and word count. Something like this, “I know that you represent one of my favorite writers, Author X, and I thought you might be interested in my 76,000-word cozy mystery which is similar in tone and style, but different in that it is set in the world of craft beer.”
After a brief intro, write three to four paragraphs summarizing your book. Make sure you include who your protagonist is, the hook, and why you think it will resonate with readers.
Include a final paragraph about your writing experience. This can be that you write for your community newspaper, a magazine, or a blog. You can talk about any professional writing organizations you belong to or the fact that you’re active on social media.
Close the letter by thanking the agent for their time and consideration.
Step six—important notes. Personalize each query letter. You’re going to need to go through your dream list one letter at a time and address each agent personally as well as re-write the introductory paragraph to reflect your research. This attention to detail and professionalism is going to set your query apart from the slush pile.
Keep your query letter to one page. Short and simple is the name of the game. Use your query letter to entice the agent to want to read more.
Track your queries on your dream list. Make note of when you sent each letter. Then, make additional notes when you receive responses from each agent.
Good luck and happy querying!
Ellie Alexander writes the bestselling Bakeshop Mystery series and the Sloan Krause Mysteries for Macmillan Publishing.
Ellie is a Pacific Northwest native who spends ample time testing recipes in her home kitchen or at one of the many famed coffeehouses nearby. When she’s not coated in flour, you’ll find her outside exploring hiking trails and trying to burn off calories consumed in the name of research.
You can find her online at:
Web: https://www.elliealexander.co
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ellie_alexander/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwd80ruKbz98VZQGT2I23-Q/featured
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elliealexanderauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BakeshopMystery
The Impossibility of Historical Fiction by James R. Benn
Readers of crime fiction know the drill. Most often there’s a protagonist, some sidekicks, various obstructionists, a murder, and a murderer. The search for truth kicks in and the game is afoot.
This fictional construct in a historical mystery offers readers something extra; a lagniappe within the plot and the drive toward resolution, the joy of experiencing a time gone by. The understanding of the standard elements of (most) crime fiction provides a reassuring platform which lends familiarity to what might be new territory in terms of time or place.
Reading historical fiction, we are forced to think of the past not as simply a sequence of large-scale events, but rather to understand the patterns, causes, and consequences surrounding those events and how they impact characters we have come to know and care about. Intertwining the personal narrative of a fictional protagonist as an actor within the historical context can provide for a powerful historical understanding. We don’t just read about a battle, we feel the weight of a pack digging into a soldier’s sweat-stained back. Historians such as Bruce Catton and Douglas Freeman, among others, have written excellent volumes on the American Civil War, but it is Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage that today still stands as a defining description of what those terrible battles were like.
But there are challenges and pitfalls, because the past itself does not have the same shape or coherence as does the present which we inhabit. The past is filled with countless people, places, and conflicts which we turn into something called history to impose order upon chaos. As the 19th century historian John Lothrop Motley said:
"There is no such thing as human history. Nothing can be more profoundly, sadly true. The annals of mankind have never been written, never can be written; nor would it be within human capacity to read them if they were written. We have a leaf or two from the great book of human fate as it flutters in the stormwinds ever sweeping the earth. We decipher them as best we can with purblind eyes, and endeavor to learn their mystery as we float along to the abyss; but it is all confused babble, hieroglyphics of which the key is lost".
If that’s the opinion of a distinguished historian, how can writers properly represent history? Motley’s point was that modern readers cannot hope to understand the past, the motivations and worldviews of those people who are so profoundly different from us. The historian knows when and on what ground a battle took place, but historical fiction demands much more—a window into the soul of those who fought, killed, suffered, and died in that battle. The dominant challenge for me is always to remember that the men and women who grew up in the Depression and went off to war in the 1940s are deeply different people from us. Their environment created them, just as ours informs us.
Their world is not ours.
Their life expectancy was about 53; ours is 79. Their economy ran on agriculture and manufacturing; ours runs on service industries. There was no social security or universal medical care for them; we live with a life-long safety net in comparison. Travel, as we experience, understand, and expect it today, was unknown for most people (until the war changed all that). A twenty-year-old in 1940 would fully understand Mark Twain and Abraham Lincoln, historical figures 70 or 80 years in their past. They would be totally unable to comprehend Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg, 70 years in the other direction.
There’s another line of demarcation which separates us. We know what happens next. The Spanish Armada does not invade England; The Union prevails in the American Civil War; The Allies liberate Europe and win the Second World War.
The people who lived through those climactic events did not know how things would end. It seems obvious to us now, but the trick is to create fictional characters who do not know what the future holds—to portray them on the razor’s edge of time, when defeat and disgrace are as likely as life, victory, and a return to normalcy—when the fear of the unknown is as palpable as the fear of whatever obstacle they face.
There was one time in my life when I understood what that must have been like for my fictional characters. I began to write my second book the weekend after 9/11. The skies were empty, and I had no idea what was going to happen next. Much like my protagonist must have thought after Pearl Harbor; I knew only that an unspeakable event had occurred and there was no sense of a knowable outcome. I cling to that memory, trying always to imbue my characters with the sense of being adrift in history, as indeed we all are. It’s critical that writers cleave to that notion and keep their characters from a clear-eyed vision of the future. For them, there can only be a ‘now’, whether that is 1066, 1863 or 1962.
How to accomplish this? For me, research is a total immersion in time and place, whether through reading, walking the ground, listening to music of the day, or watching movies my characters would have seen. I fill notebooks with jottings about the people and places in the story until I feel stuffed with facts, possessed with an overload of data that will allow me to envision how my characters would have interacted with their environment on every level; political, physical, emotional, and spiritual. Then I begin to write; and I hardly ever look at those notes again.
That information overload is there to give me the confidence to write, to construct characters as reliable simulacrums for their times. It’s hard work. As Arthur Schlesinger Jr. said in his essay “History and National Stupidity”:
“History is not self-executing. You do not put a coin in the slot and have history come out. For the past is a chaos of events and personalities into which we cannot penetrate. It is beyond retrieval and it is beyond reconstruction.”
It’s the novelist’s challenge to prove him wrong about ‘beyond reconstruction.’ Research goes far beyond learning the historical timeline. The historical novelist conveys a sense of the period through small ‘throw-away” details about clothing, food, transportation, dialect, and social customs.
Writer Thomas Mallon said it well: "Only through tiny, literal accuracies can the historical novelist achieve the larger truth to which he aspires namely, an overall feeling of authenticity. It is just like Marianne Moore's famous prescription for the ideal poet. He must stock his imaginary garden with real toads."
Or, as literary critic Logan Pearsall Smith said: “What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers."
We need to whisper the truth of the time in which we write. Too many facts poorly presented can kill a story. Too few, and we may fail to bring alive the characters and their times, leaving the reader with a limp presentation that could take place anywhere, anywhen.
I always thought he was joking, but now I understand what Oscar Wilde meant when he said, “The one duty we owe to history is to rewrite it.”
James R. Benn is the author of the Billy Boyle mystery series, set during the Second World War. He has been nominated for the Dilys and Barry awards, long-listed for the 2015 Dublin IMPAC Literary Award, and was awarded the 2018 Al Blanchard Short Story Award. His most recent novel is Solemn Graves.
The Catharsis of Writing by Matt Johnson
I came to writing quite late in life and through a series of unusual circumstances. Twenty-five years as a soldier and cop, a diagnosis of PTSD, a counselor who asked me to try writing therapy, and then an attempt at turning the notes I made into a work of fiction.
It has surprised me how many people are now trying out writing as a contributory means to help treat PTSD. Questions leveled at me, as to how writing helped me have prompted me to write this article now.
PTSD - The Chemistry
In examining PTSD, one of the known factors is that an instance of overwhelming terror can alter the chemistry of the brain, making people more sensitive to adrenaline surges even decades later.
This sensitivity to adrenaline surges is a major factor in post-traumatic stress disorder, in which people can experience normal events as repetitions of the original trauma. PTSD affects combat veterans, crime victims and millions of others. Its cause has a biological basis in its effect on the brain.
New studies in animals and humans suggest that specific sites in the brain undergo these changes. Scientists say the findings may allow development of medications to blunt the biological changes present in post-traumatic stress disorder.
For the brain changes to occur, scientists now say that people usually have to experience the stress as catastrophic, an overwhelming threat to life or safety and one over which they have no control. Less severe stresses, such as the death of a loved one or relentless financial problems, do not seem to trigger the biological changes.
When I started receiving counseling, it was explained to me like this.
When you are working in a high-stress environment such as a war zone or any work where you are subject to regular, frequent and high adrenalin surges the brain is slowly, cumulatively, affected by this regular level of adrenalin in the body. Whilst adrenalin is an incredible aid in the preparation for and enactment of the flight and fight response, it has a side effect in that it 'eats up' a chemical called serotonin.
Serotonin is a naturally produced chemical that works in the body as a neurotransmitter. It is widely thought to be a contributor to feelings of well being and happiness. What it does is smoothly transmit thought processes so that the brain operates in an organized and structured way. Serotonin also has some cognitive functions relating to memory and learning. Its presence in the body is essential to the regulation of mood, appetite, and sleep.
So, when exposure to a work environment or a series of events causes the body to regularly produce adrenalin, the effect is that serotonin levels drop.
As a result, the brain starts to operate less efficiently. Thought processes become less clear, sleep is interrupted, memory confused, etc.
Then a major catastrophic event causes a massive adrenalin and chemical surge in the brain. A hormone called cortisol is released into the amygdala section of the brain, the section that handles memory. This hormone release acts as a memory enhancer. Thus, an incredibly detailed and indelible memory of the catastrophic event is retained by the brain.
This enhanced memory explains, to an extent, why victims of PTSD struggle to 'forget' the event and move on and also why they suffer flashbacks and dreams about the event.
PTSD Symptoms
Most folks reading this will have heard of PTSD, some—those not familiar with the condition—may have wondered exactly how victims are affected. How many will have seen veterans talking on TV about experiences and see that brave people become emotional and unable to talk any further, the surge in feelings overcoming their ability to talk?
In fact, symptoms are far more wide-ranging than a lot of people realize and can vary widely between individuals. They may develop during the first month after a person witnesses a traumatic event. However, in many cases, there may be a delay of months or even years before symptoms start to appear.
This is a summary, it is not exclusive, as I am not an expert—only a victim.
A person with PTSD will often relive the traumatic event through nightmares and flashbacks and have feelings of isolation, irritability, and guilt.
Problems sleeping and concentrating are symptoms that are often severe and persistent enough to have a significant impact on the person's day-to-day life.
Some people with PTSD experience long periods when their symptoms are less noticeable. This is known as symptom remission. These periods are often followed by an increase in symptoms. Other people with PTSD have severe symptoms that are constant.
Re-experiencing is the most typical and widely publicized symptom of PTSD.
A victim may involuntarily and vividly relive the traumatic event in the form of flashbacks, nightmares, or repetitive and distressing images or sensations. Being reminded of the traumatic event (the trigger) can evoke distressing memories and cause considerable anguish.
Trying to avoid being reminded of the traumatic event is another key symptom of PTSD.
Reminders (triggers) can take the form of people, situations, or circumstances that resemble or are associated with the event.
Many victims of PTSD will try to push memories of the event out of their mind. They do not like thinking or talking about the event or events in detail. Think of those WWII veterans who we’ve seen in tears when being interviewed for documentaries, a display of emotion repeated by Iraq and Afghan veterans who appear to talk about their experiences in more recent programs.
Some victims repeatedly ask themselves questions that prevent them from coming to terms with the event. For example, they may wonder why the event happened to them and whether it could have been prevented. Often, they may blame themselves and many feel guilt that they survived when others didn't.
Someone with PTSD may be very anxious and find it difficult to relax. They may be constantly aware of threats and easily startled. This state of mind is known as hyperarousal. Irritability and anger may be a clear indication of this arousal state.
Some victims try to dampen down their feelings by trying not to feel anything at all. If you know an ex-cop or a veteran who you might describe as a 'cold fish' then what they may be showing is emotional numbing, a way of coping.
Someone with PTSD can often seem deep in thought and withdrawn. They may also give up pursuing the activities that they used to enjoy.
Other possible symptoms of PTSD include depression, anxiety and phobias. Drug and alcohol misuse are common as a means to dealing with the symptoms experienced.
PTSD often leads to the breakdown of relationships and causes work-related problems.
Surprised at the range of symptoms? There’s a lot of them isn’t there? Imagine trying to cope with them and you will have a handle on the challenges facing victims.
Writing
Many victims, me included, find that counseling helps them to understand what is going on within their own minds and bodies. It helps to appreciate how a simple chemical imbalance in the brain has been triggered and how the physical and psychological effects that follow are a result of that imbalance.
But counseling doesn't fix the symptoms on its own. Anti-depressants can be a great help and they worked for me. The pills help the body restore chemical balance so that the brain can then start to regain control.
For me, writing started as a way of helping the counseling. Like many victims, I became emotional when prompted to talk about experiences and describe what had caused the PTSD in the first place. Like many, I was advised not to worry and to try and make notes to bring back to counseling session that I could use to refer to and which might help the counselor to help me. I made the notes at times when I felt up to it, writing down what had happened, how I had felt, how it had affected me. I recorded dreams that I had, flashbacks and imaginary. Over the weeks and months, I found that writing things down helped my brain to get things focused, to get my thoughts back in order and to regain structure and control.
It helped immensely.
And it had an unexpected benefit when my counselor was moved to comment on how much she enjoyed my writing.
So, as I mentioned at the beginning of this article, one day I followed her advice and started to weave the notes jotted down into a novel. The more I wrote, the better I felt. There were several dips, several times when I found myself reliving things in a way that I preferred to avoid, but, despite the low points, the overall direction was onwards and upwards.
PTSD affects people in many ways, so what works for one will not necessarily work for another, but the fact that so many people have had such enjoyment out of reading a book that came about in such an unexpected way has given me immense reward. People have contacted me, some have described me as inspiring. That may be. I now have three published crime thrillers, so what I can say is that the feedback did inspire me to carry on writing and, for the future, we'll just see if it continues to help keep the demons at bay.
And, if you’re minded to read the result, I hope you enjoy reading it.
UK national, Matt Johnson served for 25 years as a soldier and Metropolitan Police officer. His debut novel Wicked Game – a crime thriller - was published by Orenda Books in March 2016. The sequel Deadly Game, was published March 2017 and the final part of the trilogy, End Game, came out this March.
Wicked Game was listed for the UK Crime Writers Association Dagger award, has topped Amazon and KOBO charts in several categories and in 2018, Matt was voted at #22 in a UK national poll of the world’s top 100 best-ever crime writers.
Peter James, the international best-selling novelist said of Matt’s work - "Terse, tense and vivid writing. Matt Johnson is a brilliant new name in the world of thrillers."
Kevin Maurer, co-author of No Easy Day wrote “ … has the authenticity I look for in a thriller. While the plot kept me turning pages, the characters made me care. Matt writes like a man who has lived it.”
In 1999, Matt was retired from the police with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Whilst undergoing treatment, he was encouraged by his counsellor to write about his career and his experience of murders, shootings and terrorism. His novels are the result of that process.
Can I Start Writing Now? Plotting Your Novel by David P. Wagner
Every author has a different way of starting work on a new book. Here's one.
I've always wondered how some authors can just sit down and begin writing without having any idea where their book is going, and especially if they write mysteries. Such writers are called “pantsers” in the literary lexicon since they write by the seat of their pants. Tony Hillerman was a pantser, and did pretty well, so it certainly can be done—just not by me. Instead, I want to have as much of the book planned out as I can before starting to write the first chapter. So, if you're a pantser, move to another blog entry. But if you are a “plotter” like I am, read on. Not that you can't make changes as you write—of course you will, and lots of them. In one of my books, when I was close to the end, I decided to switch the murderer from one character to another. But as a general rule, before I start writing the first word, I have to know who did it, where and how the crime happened, the identities of all the suspects, and how it's all going to come together. Because I recently turned in the final draft of book number six in my series, I am well into the process right now for starting number seven. So, this is the perfect time to take a break and write about it here.
First things first
The hard part is right off the bat: deciding on a setting and a murder. To get there I create a document in my computer, cleverly named “ideas,” and begin to write down stuff. It's a stream-of-consciousness kind of writing, putting down quickly what comes into my head, and wiping it out just as quickly when it doesn't sound right. This takes a while, with a lot of breaks, and throughout I am constantly bouncing ideas off my wife. Usually, the setting comes first. All my books take place in Italy, so I have to decide in which wonderful Italian town my protagonist Rick Montoya will find himself this time, and what kind of work or play brings him there. Then I think about crime and a motive, usually tied in some way to the setting. An idea pops up, I write it down. The next day, I may get rid of it and come up with something else. Somehow, forcing myself to sit at my laptop and write down what comes to mind works for me. I talk to myself as I do it, though not out loud; that would be weird. Once I have a setting and a crime, Rick has to be pulled into the investigation somehow and in a way that makes sense. More pounding away at the keyboard, with lots of deletes when the ideas don't work. When that hook is made between my protagonist and the murder, and I know exactly why and how the crime took place, I start working on characters.
Characters next
Time for another new document, this one named—you guessed it— “characters.” Since my books are stand-alone, Rick will be meeting most of these people for the first time, though occasionally some face from a previous adventure appears. At this point in the preparation for my next book, I have a wealthy art collector (the victim), his assistant, his wife, an art dealer, a museum curator, and a local cop since Rick is an amateur sleuth and can't arrest people. Once I started to flesh out characters, I gave them each a name. I find it is easier to envision a person if I know their name, though names can be changed at any time, and often are, thanks to “find and replace.” Once they're named, I write down what they look like, so I will have an image in my head. Then I invent background, family, personality, life story, and, very importantly, what makes them a possible suspect in the crime. Such details can evolve or even change dramatically once I start writing. One time, a planned nasty personality became a nice guy after just a couple of sentences. But usually, these folks are required to accept what they were given on the “characters” page and be happy they made the cut. As you create your characters, remember that they are the most important aspect of your book. Readers may forget the plot, and even who committed the murder, but good characters will stick in their minds and bring them back for the next book.
Now you write?
Not yet. At this point, it's time to start thinking about the big picture, so the next document to create will be a synopsis of the plot, since by this time I should have a general idea of what's going to happen. I already have a number of storylines from my “ideas” document, and as I invented the characters other plot lines came to mind. This synopsis will be a couple of pages at most, and it will force me to think of the story and how it will flow. Pace is very important, you don't want your reader to get bored and fall asleep. Besides flowing well, it also has to make sense and be believable. Sometimes after reading a synopsis I sit back and have to tell myself, no David, that just doesn't make it, try again. So, I wipe it off the screen and begin anew. (Throughout each step of this process, in fact, you should not be afraid to do just that.)
“Scenery”
All right, now I've got the characters and the general plot of the story, it must be time to start writing. Not so fast. The next step is creating scenes. (New document: “scenes.”) Like a movie, a book is a collection of scenes, and they, not chapters, are its real building blocks. One good paragraph is all I need at this point to describe a scene, giving the essence of its action. Every scene must serve one of two purposes: move the storyline along or develop the characters. If it doesn't do at least one of those things, dump it. Later, after the scene has been written in the actual manuscript, I will go back and give each scene summary more detail and record any changes made during the writing process. In this way, it becomes a reference document, useful when I forget where something was dropped into the story and don't want to read through the whole manuscript to find it. In general, I create the scene summaries in the order they will appear in the book, but sometimes I jump ahead and do the climactic scenes before those that will fall in the middle. This can be helpful, since knowing how the book finishes assists me in building up suspense and tension before the climax. It also helps me decide what kind of red herrings I can drop along the way. Concocting the scenes will be a piece of cake since you have written a good synopsis and you know your characters. There will be a natural progression from the end of one scene to the start of the next.
Now?
Yes, you finally can begin writing—and aren't you glad you did all that work to prepare? You're sick and tired of weeks of outlines, plans, and summaries, and dying to write real sentences and dialog. Open up a new document—call it “manuscript”— and begin.
David P. Wagner, a retired foreign service officer, is the author of five Rick Montoya Italian Mysteries. David lived in Italy for nine years, during which time he learned to love things Italian, many of which appear in his books. The latest in the series, A Funeral in Mantova, was published in March by Poisoned Pen Press. To find out more about his books, you can visit his website at davidpwagnerauthor.com.
Making Your Inner Writer Stand Out by Seven Jane
It’s a well-known fact: most writers—myself included—are introverts. We spend a lot of time with our faces either buried between the pages of books or awash in the glare of our laptop screens. We have an affinity for cats—just ask Neil Gaiman, Ernest Hemingway, or Charles Dickens—and probably drink a startling amount of coffee, tea, or perhaps something stronger (and sometimes we mix them, ahem). We have exceedingly strong opinions on things like literary classics and Oxford commas. We are either early birds or night owls and never both. Sometimes we wear tweed.
And while some of us are pros at things like social media and blogging, many of us—maybe most of us—are not. After all, our passion is developing other people’s stories, not necessarily doing a great job of sharing our own. Point of fact, some of the most incredible writers I know barely maintain a functioning author website. Others aren’t visible online at all.
No matter if you’re a social media recluse or an avid Tweeter; or if you’re a newbie, an aspiring author, or a veteran; if you’re self-published or traditionally represented, it’s important to consider the importance of branding yourself. Besides your stories, it’s the single most valuable asset you have—and unlike your next book, if you don’t write it, it will write itself.
Branding isn’t just for companies. It’s for people, too, and we—as authors—need to think what our brand is, or is not, saying about us. Brand, in case you’re wondering, isn’t limited to things like logos and social media handles, either. It’s connection—the lasting, emotional impact your readership has when they hear your name, see the cover of one of your books, or talk about one of your characters. And in a very loud, very competitive, and very prickly publishing market, it’s an integral part of building customer—or in our case, reader—loyalty. Likewise, and more practical, it could be an important component of your next query, too. Today, beyond showing your writing chomps in your actual writing, publishers are looking for authors who know how to sell themselves in addition to writing their books. Some are even considering asking authors to submit marketing plans alongside their manuscript submissions and quantifying your platform is part of that. It sounds scary, I know, but like going to med school before becoming a doctor, it’s kind of a big deal.
Luckily, there is some low-hanging fruit you can pluck from the tree of opportunity to get started cultivating your brand. Start by thinking about what sets you apart from other authors and makes you a consistent source of literary creativity that readers need to get their nose into. That’s what brands are: distinct, intentional, engaging, and consistent.
First things first, before you begin thinking about yourself, consider your audience. Who are you writing for? Who reads your books? Are these the same people? Put your audience in the role of a character if it helps. Flush out their interests, motivations. Once you know who you’re talking to, then you can start talking to them in a way you’re sure they’ll hear.
Next, develop your voice—your writing style for readers, so to speak. Think about your values, your opinions, your sense of humor…and then be consistent about how you share it with others. Remember, your branding yourself, not your books. Be you, or the best version of you—the you in your author bio. And be authentic.
Now, add some color. Literally. Choose your look, and apply it consistently. Make a logo, if you don’t have one. Build a website. Get on social media. You don’t have to do the same thing everywhere—in fact, you shouldn’t—but you should be consistent in each place and have a cohesive image everywhere you touch your audience. Different platforms reach different audiences—readers, media, agents, and so forth—so just like we want to write books that pique our reader’s interests, we want to build our brand in ways that pique the interest we’re looking for. There’s no one best way, but, for the sake of example, here’s what I do:
• Website: information about my books, characters, events and media updates, bio, and contacts for myself and my agent, publishers, and my publicist. Most importantly, this is where I keep a weekly blog as well as updates on other articles and editorial contributions. Don’t be static. Make sure you’re updating your website regularly to keep visitors coming back.
• A subscriber newsletter: monthly writing updates, giveaways, and sneak peeks. Fan club!
• Instagram: a daily photo journal of my writing life, often with pictures of coffee and my cats, using colors and images that support my brand—dark and mysterious, like me.
• Twitter: where I maintain my own writing and reading community, chatting daily with other authors and readers, bloggers, and other bookish folk. Follow like-minded authors, journals, publishers, editors, agents, and readers who share your interest. Use hashtags to build your brand and find your tribe.
• Facebook: I’m bad at Facebook, but my friend Rue Volley is amazing—check her out.
• Goodreads: when I’m not writing, I’m reading…and talking about it. You should be, too.
Cultivating an author brand doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time, practice, and more than a little adaptation along the way. My best branding advice? Tackle building a brand like writing a new book: outline it, identify the characters, sort out your settings and story plot, and then get busy filling in the lines with the things that make you brilliantly you. Be your introverted self, safely at home with your coffee and cats and tweed (or whatever your writing heart fancies), and make your brand start working for you.
Seven Jane is an author of dark fantasy and speculative fiction. Her debut novel, The Isle of Gold, was published by Black Spot Books in October 2018. She is represented by Gandolfo Helin & Fountain Literary Management and supported by Smith Publicity.
Seven is a member of The Author's Guild and Women's Fiction Writing Association. She writes a weekly column for WFWA's Industry News newsletter and is a regular contributor to The Nerd Daily.
Website: http://www.sevenjane.com
Social: on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram @sevenjanewrites
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