by J.T. Ellison

I’m not a suspicious person by nature, but I do try to rely on common sense when it comes to the business end of writing. I think one of the most important adages to remember when you’re trying to get published is this:

If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Now, what do I mean by that? If someone is promising you the moon and the stars, if someone claims they can make magic happen in your writing life, if someone offers you a shortcut — suspicion should be the first emotion you register.

And here’s the problem. New writers who aren’t plugged into the community don’t know any better. It isn’t their fault. Well, it is their fault, for not using their common sense and researching the hell out of every sweet deal they come across. But I’ve seen person after person get taken in by promises, and it’s driving me nuts. Unsavory characters prey on ego, and the fallacy that you’re a gifted writer right out of the chute with the very first thing you’ve ever written.

How do I know??? Well, I’ve been the victim of a couple of scams myself, and had to learn the hard way.

So I thought we could cover some of the basics here, and if you wonderful Murderati readers could chime in on the back blog to give your instances, maybe, just maybe, we can avert some serious heartache for those new writers around us. We need to rise up and educate our new writers so they don’t get their dreams shattered. Loud, public dissent will help.

I’ve wanted to do this column for a long time. In the past two months, I know three people who’ve been victims of major scams perpetrated by unsavory agents, publicists and so-called publishing houses.

The first was a friend who wrote a book, a memoir, and submitted it to a local agency. She came to me after they’d offered her a contract, saying "Guess what! XXXX says they are going to publish my book!" I’ve been in this game long enough to know that when an untried writer is accepted on their first pass with an agency no one has ever heard of, something is fishy. And that isn’t a slam on this particular writer’s ability, it’s just common sense.

So I asked for more information and I looked them up. The first thing I noticed was they were literary representation, not a publishing house. So my radar goes off big time, because any agent who guarantees that they’ll get your book published is pulling your leg. Agents can’t guarantee anything. Just like publicists can’t guarantee anything. If an agent says "I’m going to work my ass off and do everything in my power to present your work to as many editors as I know who would like to read such a book," you’re golden. "I’ll get you published?" Warning bells.

So the site looked pretty legitimate. I went to source number two — Publisher’s Marketplace. I know there are agents who don’t report their deals, but the ones who do are legitimate. Or so I thought… this agency had a deal listed with a major house. (Wow, I thought. They might actually be for real. How about that. My instincts were off.) So with cautious optimism, I asked her to show me the contract.

Cue screeching brakes.

I’ve never seen something as scary as this contract. Remember that this is with a literary agency. (Many do their deals on a handshake rather than a contract.) The contract started off standard but quickly devolved into a horror show. The things they asked for were so far out of bounds… Not only do they charge fees, including travel for the agent to meet with prospective publishers, they ask for power of attorney, to be named beneficiary on the individual’s insurance policy, require rights to be transfered to the agent’s heirs in case of death, and take all rights to publicity. I burned my finger dialing the phone to tell her NOT TO SIGN IT.

And then I turned them over to Preditors and Editors, because that’s all I could do.

That’s one of the most egregious examples I have for you today. Another was a friend who was approached by a publicity firm who were lining up her book tour and speaking engagements, and wanted several thousand dollars in cash up front. Little problem. The book hasn’t been written, much less agented and sold. Yet this agency was more than willing to take the author’s money and book a tour. Um… yeah. Unsavory, at best.

I ruined another woman’s life this past weekend when I unveiled that her brand new publishing contract actually meant that she’d just self-published her book. I don’t want to get sued, so I’m not going to mention the name of the company (there’s already a massive class action lawsuit against them) but here’s the tip. If you send a manuscript to a publishing house and they send you back a contract to sign, be wary. That’s just not how it works. And I felt horrid, because she’d gone into her morning thinking that she was the bomb, that she’d published, and when I told her how self-publishing actually works, that as long as you have an ISBN you can be listed at Amazon, that you buy the books from the publisher and have to hand sell them, that the vast majority of bookstores and chains won’t touch self-published and vanity presses because of the returns issue… suffice it to say she was crushed. "What can I do?" she asked. "I already signed the contract. I had no idea." Then she started grumbling, "I thought it was too good to be true."

Folks, word to the wise. Have an experienced entertainment lawyer look over your contracts.

Better yet, get an agent and let them do the heavy lifting. Many agents are lawyers, and you’ve got it all wrapped in one nice package.

Now please don’t flame me because I’m not a proponent for self-publishing. I think that if you have a book that you’re interested in your close friends and family reading, and you aren’t trying to start a career writing multiple books that will be carried in bookstores and pay you royalties, then that’s a fine way to go. But if you’re a new writer who wants to write more than one book and get paid for doing it, DON’T DO IT. Even if you hate the idea of a traditional New York Publisher, think you’d rather not go to the trouble, there are several incredibly great small indie presses that are worth investigating. Poisoned Pen Press, Busted Flush Press, Bleak House, Capital Crimes — all of these are wonderful houses that any author would be proud to be published by.

So here are the rule to live by:

• The money always, always, always flows to the author, not the other way around. If you have to purchase your books from the publishing house for distribution, run away.

• Do your research. Google the name of the agency or publisher with the word "warning" in the search. That will give you an idea of whether they’re legit. Familiarize yourself with Publisher’s Marketplace and see who’s making deals, and with what houses. Those are the people you want on your side.

• Find a lawyer, or at the very least an established writer you trust to tell you the truth.

• Join the major organizations for your genre, and invest in a membership with the Author’s Guild, who have free legal advice for their members. Most of the major organizations have a listing of royalty paying publishers who are legitimate. There are publishers who aren’t on those lists who ARE legit, but you’ll need to do your research to make sure before a submission is made.

• Check out sites like Preditors and Editors to see who is legitimate and who isn’t.

• For agents, go to the Association of Author’s Representatives to see their members and read their Canon of Ethics. Not all legitimate agents are AAR members, but ALL legitimate agents abide by the canons. If they don’t, or won’t openly discuss their list of authors with you, or want $1500 up front to get going to cover their expenses, look elsewhere.

• Hear what’s really being said, not what you want to hear.

The biggest problem new writers are faced with is desire. You’ve worked so damn hard, have slaved away writing your book, and you WANT to get it out to the reading public. We understand. We were there once too. But DO YOUR HOMEWORK! There are several easy steps you can take to ascertain whether the offer you’ve been approached with is legitimate. Because that’s the problem with scams. The veneer of legitimacy can be shiny and obscuring.

Like I said, I’ve been faced with scams. I had an agency agree to represent me, give me some editorial advice, and then ask for $2500. They wouldn’t release a listing of their clients, which is a big no-no. And when I Googled them, WARNINGS appeared everywhere. NOT.

My other mistake was less obvious. I met an "agent" at a festival. She took me to dinner after a session, told me she was new to the game and was looking for hungry authors to work with. She dropped everything and helped me make a submission to an editor I’d met at the festival. And then, nothing happened. It wasn’t that she was doing anything wrong, she just wasn’t doing much of anything… but she burned up my time – calling me daily, lamenting her disintegrating marriage and her desire to quit agenting and start over as an actress. I kept coming up with places to submit, no letters would go out. When a friend got me in front of a big time NY editor, this pseudo-agent was supposed to send the manuscript under her name. Never happened. By the time I realized that and sent it myself, the editor had lost interest. I severed all ties immediately and started over fresh. Thankfully, I only lost a couple of months. I’d continued to write while all that went down, and had new material. I followed my own advice above and started looking for someone legitimate.

One last little piece of advice. This can be a tough, humbling business. There will be times when you’re down, when you’re vulnerable. At this moment, there are people who will latch onto you who are horrifically negative and suck every ounce of your lifeblood away. These emotional vampires are everywhere, ready to bring you down the moment you open your mouth to complain. And they are especially dangerous because they come in the guise of friendship, then systematically dominate your world with their petty problems. These glass half empty people are EVERYWHERE, and it would serve you well to avoid them. There’s commiseration, and then there’s an unhealthy view of life. You know exactly who they are. Excise them, and you’ll be a happier person all around.

Just as I finished typing that last paragraph, a friend sent me this email. Perfect illustration of the above point:

One
evening an old German told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside
people.

He
said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all.  One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow,
regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies,
false pride, superiority, and ego.

The
other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence,
empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.

The
grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his Wise Old German
Grandfather: "Which
wolf wins?"

The old Grandfather simply replied, "The one you
feed."

Ain’t that the truth.

I know I’ve missed some great tips and warning signs, so I’d be most appreciative if the established authors, agents and editors out there would chime in. Let’s stop these piranhas before they gnaw anyone else’s dreams into oblivion.

Wine of the Week: Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon Another suggestion from a friend, and wow, is it good!

Stop by J.B. Thompson’s blog today for a chance to win the newest title by one of my favorite authors, Robert Fate!

Update:  Please check out this blog entry at Writer’s Beware for more on the subject. Then read all their entries for a fuller education on submissions and publishing.

by J.T. Ellison

Oh, it’s so good to be back!

My month off from Murderati, though initially unplanned and unexpected, gave me a chance to remember what I like most about blogging — the communication. It was a strange confluence of events that led to the month of guest blogs, more a mismanagement of the schedule and promises made on my part than anything else, but the enforced break gave me some time to think about what it is I do here. And while I have no idea if it’s worth anything to the readers, I know it’s incredibly healthy for me as a writer.

Last week was my two-year anniversary as a blogger, and Murderati’s second birthday. I can’t believe that I didn’t realize that until today. Pari and I are the only original Murderati members, but for what it’s worth, this blog has become bigger than all of us as individuals. That’s an incredible accomplishment. And we have all of you to thank for that. (CLAP, CLAP, CLAP!!!)

I was backing up my blog entries and realized that in those two years, I’ve written nearly 100,000 words. That’s a novel. Of blog entires. Some I’m incredibly proud of, some are just so-so, but there you have it. Two years and 100,000 words of non-fiction. Add in the 320,000 plus words from my novels, throw in a few short stories and I’m pushing half a million words in two years. Not bad for a newbie.

So it’s time to get back to what I love best here, the sharing.

I went to my parents two weeks ago, for a visit, and some rest, and some work. It was a great trip, though bookended by strange and horrid experiences. When I landed at Orlando, the idiot who was trying to go to Jamaica with a bomb in his luggage had just been taken into custody, and the arrival lanes were blocked with the bomb squad vehicles. The airport was controlled chaos, packed to the gills with unhappy people. Crazy.

And on the way home, a man died on the plane.

I’ve debated long and hard about how much of this I want to share, for a couple of reasons. One, I’m still processing what I saw, and how it made me feel. Two, I think the only way to really process it properly is to write about it in a fictional milieu. One of the advantages to have a writing blog is discussing the events that shape our writing, and I’ve spent the last two years of my life examining myself through these posts. But every once in a while, there’s an experience that you want to put into your work, and that’s going to have to happen with this one. To do it justice, I’ll need to utilize the strength of my alter ego, Taylor, to give it the proper impact. J.T. can’t do it without sounding like a bit of a freak. So I’ll tell you about what happened, and beg forgiveness for utilizing it in what I’m sure is going to be a very cool chapter in an upcoming book.

We were all buckled in and taxiing out to take off when a flight attendant came on the intercom and asked if there was a doctor or a nurse on the plane. There were two kids a few rows back who were screaming, and I figured one of them got sick or had a little panic attack. Boy, was I wrong. It was an older gentleman, and he was having severe chest pains. The flight attendant repeated the request, and a young woman got up and made her way to the back of the plane. I saw the look on her face as she walked by me — here we go again, it said.

Remember a few months back when I talked about Taylor being one of those people who would rush into a fiery car crash to help a stranger? I haven’t been faced with a life or death situation for many years, since I was a lifeguard in high school and college. Back then, I knew exactly what to do in an emergency. I knew CPR. I still know it, but I haven’t had to do it in a long, long while. But for Taylor, you know, that’s just second nature. She wouldn’t hesitate. She would be the girl who walked down the aisle to help. This Good Samaritan had real medical training, not a few summers by the pool. Thank God she did.

The gentleman was telling the flight attendant that he though he was okay when he went down. Just, boom. Stopped. All halt. The flight attendants were spectacular. They immediately got the defibrillator attached and got a vent going. They shocked him several times, and the Good Samaritan started some very aggressive CPR. I don’t know how familiar you guys are with CPR, real live CPR, not the stuff on TV. You push hard, and things break. I was in the aisle about six rows up from all of this, and got a good refresher course. Of course, I’ve been unable to shake the image of her leaning over him, droplets of sweat flying as she worked, her hands moving so deeply into his chest that she looked like she was hitting his spine…

The plane pulled out of the runway and headed back to the gate, and the paramedics arrived after what seemed like forever. All in all, they worked on him for forty-five minutes. To say it was horrid doesn’t even come close. The whispers flew through the plane, the passengers in utter and complete shock. There were a number of children on board, children that couldn’t be sheltered from what was happening because of the immediacy of it. There was even the odd boor who surmised that they should get us a new plane, he was going to be late getting home. There’s always one person, you know?

I’ve been on several planes that have had emergency situations. I’ve made emergency landings, seen a flight attendant smash her head on the ceiling when we hit unanticipated turbulence. I’ve flown in storms so severe the plane veered sideways, and dropped thousands of feet in a heartbeat. But I’ve never flown with a ghost.

When they took him from the plane, transferred him to the ambulance, still doing CPR nearly an hour later, I knew he was gone. And I never got a good look at his face, so all I could do, all the way home, was wonder. Did I see him in the airport? I was working in a restaurant, and came late to the gate. Did I see him, and smile at him? Was I so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t notice him? Was he happy? Could he have imagined, standing in line, that his last moments were upon him? That in less than fifteen minutes, he’d be dead?

As you can imagine, I’ve been a little messed up by this. I said many prayers on the way home, and as I sat crying in my seat, pretending I wasn’t sniffling, listening to my iPod with every tune strangely about death, I reminded myself that this wasn’t about ME. This was about a stranger who quite literally lost everything. A stranger I’ll never forget.

I’ve been thinking about this rather nonstop for the past week, etching the details in my mind so I can do them justice on the page. I’ve shared with a few friends about some odd happenings on the plane — the little Indian girl who watched him the whole time, something ageless in her eyes, as if she was his passage to the next world. The moment of sunlight that passed through the plane and left me shaking with cold.

But the most wonderful thing about the experience was the people who rushed to this man’s side, who cared enough to try to give him life. I am humbled by their deeds. If I were closer, I would have done the same. Ah, there’s the rub. I didn’t help. Yes, I prayed, and that’s all well and good, but I didn’t get out of my seat and go back to see if they needed anything. They didn’t need me. I would have been in the way, and I’m not kidding when I say they had things very much under control. But a part of me wishes I had.

Instead, I expressed my thanks and gratitude to the people who did help. They did all they could. I can only hope that if I’m ever in a bad situation, there will be people as selfless around.

Addendum:

The strangest thing has happened. I do my posts in advance, so this one was already written when my mother called me today with the most brilliant news. A letter arrived at the house from the airline. (It was Southwest, by the way, and they were magnificent.) I’m overjoyed to be able to tell you that I was wrong. We were all wrong. My stranger is alive. I’m in such a state of shock. I don’t know HOW he could be, but apparently the constant and immediate CPR measures kept enough blood and oxygen pumping that after some heroic work at the hospital, he survived!! Southwest is "helping" his family, I assume in a monetary fashion, and gave each passenger a LUV coupon. LUV indeed. What a glorious day this is!

To celebrate, I suggest you head here and enjoy.

Wine of the Week: I’m not much of a rosé drinker, but we attended a cool wine tasting this past weekend and this bottle was on the menu. Finca Vieja Rosado  2005  It’s from La Mancha, Spain, light and fruity, but seriously dry, with berries and pepper in the finish. We fell in love. And think about this, it would make killer sangria. Yum!

Interviewed
by J.T. Ellison

Last
year, Murderati welcomed a legend in the publishing community. Neil Nyren is
the Senior VP, Publisher and Editor in Chief of Putnam, edits just about every
important bestselling author out there, and is an incredibly talented and
generous editor who has been very kind to this particular newbie.

He’s kind of
like E.F. Hutton – when Neil talks, people listen. His panel at last year’s
Thrillerfest on the Snare of the Hunter was a resounding favorite. Neil Nyren, No Longer a Man of Mystery still
ranks among our highest rated posts. (I encourage you to take a look and
refresh your memories.) If that’s not enough,
last November, when Putnam had
eight books on the hardcover fiction and non-fiction lists in one week, four of
them were edited by Mr. Nyren. Let me repeat that. He had four books on the NYT
bestseller lists at once. A hearty Murderati round of applause, if you will.
That’s an unbelievable record.

There
have been a number of changes, rumors and concerns about the industry of late,
and I thought it would be a good idea to see what Mr. Nyren thought about these
issues. I hope that this can become a yearly gig — our own version of the
State of the Industry.

So sit
back, have a good cup of coffee to hand, and learn from the master.  

——————————————–

Which
memoir would you rather buy this week – Eliot Spitzer or Ashley Alexandra Dupré?

Neither. I’m very
cautious when dealing with certain kinds of current events books, because with
today’s 24/7 news cycles, we tend to get inundated with so much detail that our
curiosity is satisfied just by what we get in the media. We think: I’ve heard
as much about this story as I need to. And by the time a book comes out many
months later, our interest has already moved on to the next scandal or topic du
jour. To be potentially successful, a book has to provide something deeper,
broader, more significant than we can get in the daily media. That said, of all
the players in this particular drama — Silda is the one most people would like
to hear from, I think.

What is the next hot genre?

If I knew what the
next hot genre was going to be, I wouldn’t be working for a publishing house,
I’d own a publishing house! It’s pretty rare that we’re that smart. My
colleagues at Berkley spotted early that paranormal suspense/romance was
working for them, and so they jumped in with both feet and that’s why they’re
the leader in that genre now. Usually, what happens is somebody publishes a
novel that is hugely successful, and all the publishers, trailblazers that we
are, look at it and say: Huh, I should do one of those! Turow is a hit,
followed by Grisham, and suddenly we’re inundating the stores with legal thrillers.
Clancy writes The Hunt for Red October, and technothrillers are
everywhere. Eventually, the market gets saturated, sales die off, and only the
very best in their respective genres still stand head and shoulders above the
crowd. And we all sit around and ask each other: So, what’s next?

There is a perception that
if an author doesn’t find instant success, they will/are bypassed for another
contract. Is this true, and how do new and midlist authors combat that? And a
question from the outside – “Do you feel the publishing industry as a whole has
stopped looking at developing long-term careers for authors in favor of already
established authors or the flavor du jour?”

First, I think we
have to define what we mean by “success.” If I spend $30,000 for a book and it
sells 20,000 copies in hardcover, I am very happy. Sure, it’s on nobody’s
bestseller list, but it’s found a market, it’s made a bit of money, it’s
established the author for his next book. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a
success! If I spend $30,000 for a book and it sells 2,000 copies in hardcover,
however – then we have to look at why it sold so few, whether a different
strategy is needed, if there’s a way we can bump that up next time. If it turns
out that there is no bump next time, then we have to figure out where we go
from there.

And sometimes where
we go is to do more books with the author anyway. Maybe the author’s gotten the
kind of reviews or made the kind of friends or just written such damn good
books that we say, “You know, there’s got to be more here, we’ve just got to
find it.” Because, in fiction at least, we’re always buying the author, not a
particular book. We’re trying to establish a career. Which is why it is
absolutely not true that we’ve stopped planning for the long-term. The
long-term is what we plan for most. All you have to do is look at the
bestseller lists and see which authors made it on their fifth, sixth, tenth
book or more. We all know the tales of the authors who made it on their first
or second try, but it’s much, much more common that it’s an incremental
process, one book selling more than the last, until the author has acquired the
kind of critical mass that makes him or her ripe for that final push over the
top. My favorite personal example is Randy Wayne White. He’d already had three
novels that had sold modestly when we bought him, but we kept pushing him book
by book until finally he broke through – on his seventh book for us and his
tenth book overall. This is the norm, not the exception, and all publishers
know it. No “already established” author was born established, and the “flavor du
jour” expires with the next jour. It’s just plain, hard work.

Is it true that the market is
tightening dramatically?

It’s certainly true
that the market is tight. It’s not the first novelists that are in jeopardy or
the stars, but the repeat midlist – but then, it’s been that way for quite a
while, hasn’t it? Every account can call up sales figures instantly now. First
novelists have no black marks against them, no large returns or tiny sales, so
anything is theoretically possible. But if an author has published four books
to static or declining results, there’s no way to hide it, and it’s very hard
to convince an account not to order accordingly.

How has your marketing model
changed in light of the new technologies and delivery methods available?

We spend a lot of
time now with websites – ours, our authors’ and others’ – bloggers, podcasts –
you name it. Some authors are more suitable for all this than others, of
course. For instance, I have a book being published on March 27^th
called FALLING
INTO MANHOLES: The Memoir of a Bad/Good Girl, by Wendy Merrill.
It’s the experiences – sometimes very funny, sometimes very not – of a quirky,
attractive, in-recovery-from-everything woman in search of love, sex, sanity,
and herself, and she’s got just a great voice. Some of our approach is
conventional – radio, TV, signings, reviews, etc. – but we’re also using the
web a lot. An online magazine called Viv has already run an excerpt;
we’ve reached out to a ton of women’s sites and bloggers, including one popular
site on MySpace, where Wendy offered free galleys to the first 50 people who
replied; she’s run a video on YouTube and her own (excellent) website, created
“forward to a friend” e-cards about the book and her signing dates, written a “behind the book” essay that’s posted on the Left
Coast Writers website and linked to a variety of other sites,
including our own website, where the essay is available for download; and a
whole bunch of other stuff like that.

How do you get an author on
the bestsellers lists? And is there anything an author can do to help?

It depends on the
kind of book we’re talking about. Nonfiction tends to be heavily dependent on
media. Fiction tends to be more reliant on reviews and word of mouth, with occasional
big media bursts, such as we saw recently with Charles Bock’s Beautiful
Children. For series books, as I mentioned above, it’s often a slog – book
by book, edition by edition (hardcover followed by paperback followed by
hardcover), until the author is ready to break through. For all these books,
visibility is very important, and if we’re aiming for the bestseller list, we
have to make sure all our coop and bookstore promotion vehicles are in place.
That’s the greatest hidden cost of publishing, the one most people don’t
appreciate – when a book is on the front table at Borders or on the stepladder
at B&N or featured in an email blast from Amazon, it’s not because of some
bookseller whim, it’s because the publisher’s paid for it. Depending on the level
of the promotion, which is usually related to the level of the bookseller buy,
and is always of limited duration, it can be very, very expensive, but there’s
nothing like getting the book squarely in front of people. If you read
something about a book in the paper or hear the author interviewed on the radio
or a friend mentions it to you, and then you go into a bookstore and see it
sitting right in front of you as you walk in, you’re simply more likely to pick
it up. And if you pick it up, maybe you’ll look at the jacket copy, check out
the author photograph, read a few pages….

There are tons of
things an author can do to help, but we don’t really have room for that here.
The essential thing is for the author always to be aware of what a publisher
can use as leverage: media contacts of any kind whatsoever, friendly bookstore
owners, organizations that might buy multiple copies, writers willing to give
endorsements, lists of names you might have gathered on your website – anything
at all that can get the word out in any way. Listen to your publisher, and make
sure he listens to you. And this is true no matter where you’re aiming the book
– bestseller, good seller, any kind of seller! It’s just basic good business.

What books from 2007 should have made
the list, but didn’t?

You mean aside from
some of mine? I was surprised Martin Cruz Smith’s STALIN’S GHOST didn’t make
the list – it was a brilliant book, as all his Arkady Renko novels are. And I’m
a great fan of Julia Spencer-Fleming – I do expect to see her on that
list some day.

Do awards really matter in terms of
sales?

For mystery awards,
not a huge amount, really. They’re great to have, of course, especially if you
aren’t particularly known, because it’s a good way to get your name out there
to a core readership and build an audience. I know I’ve occasionally bought
Edgar books while browsing for something to read and have found some nice
things that way (last year’s THE JANISSARY TREE, for instance). By and large,
though, I don’t tend to see a substantial bump in sales.

What do you want your authors to do in
terms of promotion? Conferences, websites, blogs and book festivals – or stay
at home and write the best book you can?

The book always comes
first – always. If you don’t have a good book, published at the right time,
then none of the rest of it matters. After that, websites are useful if they’re
well done, give readers a reason to come back, and act as a vehicle for
collecting names – there’s nothing like that email blast to fans shortly before
publication to concentrate your sales early. Conferences and book festivals are
fine as long as you’re having fun, building contacts, getting your name out
there, and not spending so much time at them that you’re neglecting your first
job (see above!). Blogs – I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, JT, but
sometimes I wonder if all the time and energy spent on writing a blog might not
be better spent on…well, you know what I’m going to say.

Do you still read blogs? Which ones?

I do. I don’t read
all of these every day, but I like Sarah Weinman (of course), The Rap Sheet,
Buzz, Balls & Hype, Murderati, First Offenders, Tess Gerritsen, Joe
Konrath, Crime Fiction Dossier, Naked Authors, Mysterious Matters, and Hey Dead
Guy. Once a day, I’ll usually check in at Crimespot to see if there are any
topics or posts that sound interesting. And I receive the DorothyL digests.

In our last interview, you mentioned
that there is a certain fallacy to the “sky is falling” attitude toward the
publishing industry. You said, “… The vision is being promoted of a handful of
publishers selling a handful of commercial books to a handful of accounts, and
that’s the future of publishing. But I don’t buy it. There’s a bunch of reasons
why – but that’s a whole other rant. Maybe some other time!” 

Would you address that rant now?

There isn’t enough
room here. However, I’m scheduled to speak at the Craftfest portion of this
year’s Thrillerfest, and though my main subject is something else…I wouldn’t be
surprised if a bit of rant sneaks in there!

(Note: Neil will be moderating an all publisher panel at Thrillerfest as well… Let’s hope for rants!)

We also talked about what authors could
do to get your attention. Any tips for the agents who want to pitch you?

Oh, geez, just give
me a good book – that’s all I want. Don’t overhype the manuscript, tell me
anything about the author that I might need to know, and then just let me read.

Everyone wants a movie option for their
novel. Is there anything the writer can do to help that process along?

Here is the thing I always tell any of
my writers who are approached by Hollywood: 

Don’t get sucked in. They will drive
you crazy if you let them. Just cash the check.

Don’t believe anything until you have a
signed contract.

Then, don’t believe anything until they
have an approved script.

Then, don’t believe anything until they
announce a cast.

Then, don’t believe anything until they
announce a start date.

Then, don’t believe anything until they
announce a release date.

Then, if against all the odds, there is
an actual movie showing in actual theaters, go to see it, buy some popcorn, and
pretend it was based on somebody else’s book entirely. Because if even half of
what you wrote gets up there on the screen, it will be a minor miracle. 

Cash-the-check.

Should authors be spending their own
money on promotion outside of the advances paid to them?

If it’s spent wisely.
There are lots of ways to throw it away. It’s a subject you want to talk about
in detail with your editor and the publicity/promotion staff at your publisher,
to see what might be worth doing and what not, and what would dovetail best
with your publisher’s efforts.

And just for fun: 

What book do you wish you’d written?

The Yiddish
Policemen’s Union. And that Charlie
Huston can write like a bastard – The Shotgun Rule, phew!

Wine – Italy, France, California,
Australia or Chile? Would you give us a wine tip?

All of them,
depending on what I’m into at the time. Lately, I’ve been drinking a lot of
Malbec, Nero D’Avola and Oregon Pinot Noir. And when I’m in the mood for a
white, almost nothing beats a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc for me – Kim
Crawford’s my favorite. That’s my wine tip of the day!

Who was the best Batman: Adam West,
Michael Keaton, Christian Bale or Val Kilmer?

What, no George
Clooney?

What was your favorite movie last year?

Many favorites. For
drama, No Country For Old Men, Eastern Promises (so happy to see Viggo
get an Oscar nomination) and Michael Clayton (just good old-fashioned
moviemaking). For lighter stuff, Juno (of course), Ratatouille
(also of course), and Enchanted (Amy Adams, whom I’ve loved since Junebug).

—————————-
Neil, I can’t begin to thank you for being so generous with your time and
expertise here today. You’re the greatest! I highly suggest everyone say thank
you to Neil by running out and buying books by all of his authors. You won’t be
disappointed!

Neil S.
Nyren is senior vice president, publisher and editor in chief of G.P. Putnam’s
Sons. He came to Putnam in
1984 from Atheneum, where he was Executive Editor. Before that he held
editorial positions at Random House and Arbor House. Some of his authors
include Tom Clancy, Clive Cussler, Jack Higgins,
W.E.B. Griffin, John Sandford, Dave Barry, Daniel Silva, Ken Follett, Alex
Berenson, Randy Wayne White, Carol O’Connell, James O. Born, Patricia Cornwell
and Frederick Forsyth; nonfiction by Bob Schieffer, Maureen Dowd, John McEnroe,
Linda Ellerbee, Jeff Greenfield, Charles Kuralt, Secretary of State James Baker
III, Thomas P.M. Barnett, Sara Nelson, and Generals Fred Franks, Chuck Horner,
Carl Stiner, Tony Zinni and Wendy Merrill.

by J.T. Ellison

I’m feeling a bit schizophrenic this week — so much is happening, so many things to do, that I find it hard to give each item my full attention. It’s been a week of good news, of catching up, of diligent research and not nearly enough writing. But that’s okay, it’s coming. I have a title for the 4th book in the Taylor Jackson series as of Wednesday.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m worthless if I don’t have a title, and I’ve proven that to myself yet again. The new book is going along, but I haven’t been feeling those EUREKA moments. Which scared me to death. Am I done after three? Can I not do this anymore? Why can’t I come up with a title for this book that pleases everyone?????

Then, Tuesday night, in the middle of torture America(n) Idol, I realized that something was humming in my brain. I’ve been looking at titles that are symbolically telling, that encapsulate the story of the book into one or two words. What I was neglecting to do was step away from what I think the story is about and look deeper. Past the plot. Past the characters. Past the twists. Look deep into the series. Into what I, as a writer, am trying to do.

Hummmmmmm…..

The title appeared within five minutes. I was telling Randy I was almost there… I felt like I was on the edge… the edge? And then it came to me. I said it aloud and got goosebumps. I knew. This was it. I sent off the email to New York, fingers crossed. I got the big YES emails back. We have liftoff.

Which magically settled everything into place. I renamed all the file folders, the manuscript, the research files on the laptop. Suddenly, the research makes sense. The story is coming together, all the backstory floating around in my head is piecing its molecules into a semblance of coherence…. I’m writing a book again instead of talking about writing a book. The relief, as I’m sure you understand, is palpable.

It shouldn’t be like this. Any professional writer will laugh at you if you say you can’t write without a title.  And I’m blessed, because the original 4th title was the first that got rejected by the house. So, now that I have all that behind me…

Oh, the title? EDGE OF BLACK

I’m in love.

Which leads me to cover art. I can not wait to see what they do with that.

Art is the most exciting part of the publication process for me. I fill out the art sheets, give my synopsis and themes, the hidden metaphors for the titles, and sit back, anticipating what the artists will dream up.

I’ve been blown away both times now. It’s so much fun getting that email from my editor, knowing that something spectacular lies within. I’m having what I assume to be a rare experience — twice now, my editor has sent me a cover and I’ve said yes immediately, no changes, no worries. Granted, Mira’s done a very nice job of branding me. The scratchy, insane asylum font, the graphic scenes, the bold colors… what’s not to love?

I know we’ve talked about covers a hundred times. I think we return to it, again and again, because there’s a certain element of communication intrinsic in cover art. A good one gets you noticed. A bad one, just like a bad title, and the readers will pass you by.

But what is it really that draws us? Isn’t there a certain reality that the writer doesn’t have anything to do with their covers? Yes, we have input, but just like titles, the publisher makes the final decision based on their publication model.

Getting your first cover is a bit overwhelming. Especially for authors who are less than enthralled by their art. How do you tell your house that you aren’t thrilled? It’s hard. But open lines of communication make life easier for everyone.

Anyway… all that’s just a precursor for the main event today. Like I said, lots happened this week. I’ve been given the go ahead to release my next cover. I’ve been sitting on it for what feels like months (only two) and can’t wait for everyone to see it. I sent out my newsletter early this month so I’d have a chance to debut it to the fans first. (Okay, that was a heady little statement.)

So, without further ado… the second installment of Taylor Jackson and John Baldwin is going to look like this…

Another completely visceral reaction on my part when I got this in my inbox. I was so taken with the look… but the copy was great too:

Ten victims, each with pale skin and long dark hair.

All have been slashed across the throat, the same red lipstick smeared across their lips.

In the mid-1980s the Snow White Killer terrorized the streets of
Nashville, Tennessee. Then suddenly the murders stopped. A letter from
the killer to the police stated that his work was done.

Now four more bodies are found, marked with his fatal signature. The
residents of Nashville fear a madman has returned, decades later, to
finish his sick fairy tale. Homicide Lieutenant Taylor Jackson believes
the killings are the work of a copycat killer who’s even more
terrifying. For this monster is meticulously honing his craft as he
mimics famous serial murders…proving that the past is not to be
forgotten.

Creepy, huh? I think they did a great job.  I was chilled to the bone.

So tell me, have you ever seen a cover that’s stayed with you? Something that really rocked your world?

And the update question: Do you have a title in the closet that you’re desperate to use but no one will let you? Or something you’ve fallen in love with and are saving for your Magnum Opus?

Wine of the Week: Penfolds Thomas Hyland Shiraz 2003  I agree with the sentiment that now is too soon to get the full body of this wine, but it’s pretty good regardless.

by J.T. Ellison

I’m a true Taurus, which means in addition to being exceptionally bullheaded, I find slapsticky humor hilarious. But I also appreciate the subtle, cerebral stuff. It boils down to this, highbrow, lowbrow, subtle, crude, sexy, sexist… make me laugh, and I’ll love you forever. I love to laugh.

One of my favorite sure bets is on Monday nights, when Jay Leno does his headlines. I know this is the second time I’ve mentioned Leno lately, and don’t worry, I also love Letterman, and Conan, and we all know how I feel about Mr. Yummy (Yes, it’s the Scottish accent coupled with the humor. Sue me.)

ON Leno, though, there is something about the typos in headlines, the deadpan delivery, even the in-your-face innuendo of the wedding announcements that just cracks me up. I swear, the Upper-Bottoms wedding just slayed me. WHO doesn’t read these things aloud when they’re putting them together? I know, it’s protocol to have the bride’s name first, but my goodness, save everyone the trouble and switch the names already. Of course, on that one, it would just end up as Bottoms-Upp.

And I wouldn’t get my juvenile jollies if people actually paid attention.

I’m a huge fan of bloopers, too, and gag reels, people getting tongue-tied and embarrassed. I’m just one of those easily amused people, I guess.

So why don’t I find reported instances of my own typos at all amusing???

And not just not amusing, but a personal affront on my soul???

Part of it comes from the fact that the reported instances of typos in ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS are my fault. The second issue is the notifications come with such breathless glee. And the third insult to injury is that they’ve come from my family. Yes, you read that right. The very people who are supposed to turn a blind eye to my shortcomings have been the first to point the proverbial finger. I haven’t had any strangers write to me with problems. It’s all come from within. Makes me feel like I’m still in junior high.

In all seriousness, this is a real issue. Many lists get into discussions about all the editorial errors in books these days. The complaints are numerous, the blame widely spread. I thought I’d take a moment and talk about how those errors come into being.

I just finished my "Author Alterations", otherwise known and galleys or page proofs, for my second book. I know the manuscript was relatively clean. I’d been through it at least three times, my independent readers caught errors, my editor caught a few. Then it went to copyediting. The copyeditor makes all the changes she or he thinks are appropriate, and the author is left picking up the pieces. My first go-round with copyedits was brilliant. The second wasn’t as simple.  Writing books set in the South can be difficult, simply because we use phrases and vernacular that’s grammatically incorrect. Modern usage of language has changed. Writing has become less formal in many ways. So if you score a CE who is a stickler for proper grammar and usage, and who doesn’t know your style, it can be a nightmare.

So I undid a lot of the changes she made (STET is a girl’s best friend) and sent the manuscript back. A note here for the newbies. One — when you get your first set of copyedits, you don’t make the changes to your electronic manuscript, you make them directly onto the paper. Yes, it’s a bit archaic, but that’s the way things are. A sweet friend saved me from that very mistake my first go-round, so take it as free advice. Two — and this is a BIGGIE — make a photocopy of your copyedits. That way, when your proofs come back, you can check to make sure your CEs and STETs made it into the final product.

And herein lies the rub. Between copyedits and page proofs, the manuscript is typeset. Which means it’s reentered into a document in full. Which means there will be errors that weren’t in the copyedits. It’s just one of those crazy things. I know a few houses have moved to an electronic CEs and PPs, but mine hasn’t. Which means my author alterations not only include reading through for errors, I need to make sure all my CEs made it into the final product. It’s time consuming, but I care about making sure there are as few mistakes as possible.

After all of that, the manuscript is finished, sent off to proofreaders for a final read-through. And mistakes still  make it through. After I was informed of the two errors in ATPG, I went back and looked. One was a typo, an extra A, the other was an action. Baldwin turned off the television twice in two pages. And I’m not making excuses, I should have seen them. The proofreaders should have seen them. The copyeditor should have seen them. But they didn’t. And that, unfortunately, is life. I hate that my book is out there with a couple of typos. Drives my OCD butt mad. But what can you do?

I did my absolute best to make sure 14 is clean, but it’s out of my hands now. I don’t get to see it again. I can’t take one last pass through to make sure everything is perfect. And to be perfectly honest, I probably wouldn’t catch anything more. I’ve read that book at least five times now, and the mind plays tricks on you. You reach a point with these novels that you can recite passages by heart. You know what you mean, so your mind tells you it’s correct. I have high hopes for my proofreaders. And I’ll live with the consequences.

But it won’t stop me from enjoying other people’s mistakes. All hail the typo!

So as a readers, how much is too much? Will you abandon a book that has too many typos? And the writers, what tricks do you use to eliminate these problems?

Wine of the Week: 2006 Deltetto Langhe Arneis, a Geerlings & Wade special.

P.S. I’m here in Denver at Left Coast Crime. A great time is being had by all. I’ll check in as much as I can!

 

by J.T. Ellison

I was watching Richard Roper on Jay Leno the other night. The teaser before the segment’s commercial break was, "When we return, we’ll talk about the worst movies of the year." They came back and had a very interesting discussion about bad movies. Leno asked if there are times when the director knows the movie is going south during filming and moves forward anyway, or do they truly believe that they are making a great movie.

Roper replied, "Well, no one sets out to make a bad movie."

Of course they don’t. No one in their right mind wants to produce crap, be it a movie, television show, or even a book. We’ve all read a book or two that’s a complete stinker. I’ve had a few moments when I look back to see who the editor is, who the house is, and find brand names in the acknowledgments. How does that happen???

Yes, criticism is subjective at best. What I love, another will hate, and vice versa. And it is sooooo easy to read a book, or watch a film, and say man, that sucked. But can we explain why? And if it’s so terrible, how did it make it into our hands and onto our screens???

I need to limit this to discussing books, because I’m hopelessly lost when it comes to movie production. I’d love it if a few of our movie folks would chime in from that side of the fence.

As authors, we strive to make each book better than our last. We struggle and soar, we research and express, we do everything in our power to give good quality entertainment to our readers. Sometimes we have a deeper message. Sometimes there’s a lesson to be learned. Sometimes, it’s just plain escapist fiction, fun for the writer to write and the reader to read.

So how do we produce clunkers? Because I have to tell you, there isn’t an author on the planet who hasn’t written a book they believe in, given it to their editor, who is enthusiastic, gone through the process of being sold-in to booksellers, who are also enthusiastic, then gotten slammed with a crappy review. Does that mean a book is bad? No. A review is a review is a review. Nothing more, nothing less.

What about the books that get brilliant reviews, but the readers hate? What causes the disparity in opinion?

And how does a book that everyone, and I mean everyone, agrees is terrible, make it through the process? The books only a mother could love. How does the editor let it through? How does the publisher get behind it? How does it make it into stores???

Again, no one sets out to write a bad book. No one sets out to produce a terrible movie. But they do exist. So where’s the quality control? Where are the editors and publishers and agents who need to red light the process, send the book back to the author and say, "You need to rewrite this puppy."

I can understand how much more difficult that might be in a movie. Our Toni is producing an indie film right now, and she shared some of her duties with me. I was flabbergasted. Imagine that on a George Lucas scale, with millions upon millions of dollars invested into a film. Have you even really read the credits at the end of a movie? Thousands of people are involved. Scrapping it to start over isn’t exactly feasible.

But if a novel isn’t up to snuff, what can we do? We’re one person, working with one editor, one agent, etc. There aren’t a million people on the payroll. Why can’t we full stop and start over?

As strange as it may seem, authors are people. Which means that they are experiencing this little thing called life, which has a tendency to get in the way. Say, God forbid, a loved-one passes away mid-way through a book. Is that novel going to be the author’s best effort? Maybe, maybe not. But can you insert a disclaimer in the preface and apologize to the reader? Or should the book be pulled from the queue and the author given a pass until they feel ready to produce again?

I’m speculating here, and I’m curious about your opinion. How do the bad books/movies make into the hands of the consumer? Do we do ourselves a disservice by not having a system of checks and balances to make sure that bad work doesn’t make it out there? Does it matter???

Wine of the Week: Tenuta dell’Ornellaia Bolgheri Superiore Ornellaia 2004

 

 

Hi all!

I’m traveling to the Palmetto State today to attend the South Carolina Book Festival. Lots of familiar names and faces to play with, including our darling Dusty, upcoming guest blogger Cara Black, and friends of Murderati Tasha Alexander, Marcus Sakey and Jim Born. Plus, I get to have a ridiculously cool fan girl moment — Harlan Coben is going to present on Sunday. Cross your fingers that I don’t make too big a fool of myself. If you’re attending, I can’t wait to meet you!!!

So in my spot today is a wonderful new author I’m sure you’ll enjoy. The story below shows some of the darkness we mystery writers mine for our work, and shows that hope can be found, if we look hard enough.

Give a warm Murderati welcome to ITW debut author Theo Gangi!

—————

The Alameda County Juvenile Justice Center wasn’t the first prison I’d been to. But it was the cleanest.

I sat in the congenial waiting room beside snack and soda
machines, bright like a hospital. Amy the librarian came out of the heavy,
reinforced steel doors to greet me. She was blonde, down to earth and seemed
like she could laugh just about anything off. The first set of doors led to a
small hallway that led to another set of doors. I was reminded of the Eager
Street prison where I used to work in Baltimore—cameras everywhere, door after
door, and you had to wait for the first door to close before they’d open the
second. Amy could see the door operators through the transparent hallway and
she waved, smiling.

The main hallway was eerily quiet, aside from our shoes
clicking on the hard, white tiles. We passed doors to our right and left with
bars behind the small porthole windows. In Baltimore, the hallways reeked of
either filth or ammonia. This smelled pleasantly like nothing at all.

Amy brought me to the library first. It was a small room
with tables and chairs in the center, surrounded by books organized by theme.
Amy complained about the size if the room, the number of books. She walked me
through the stacks, explaining her rationale for each purchase, how she thought
they might connect to Richard Wright but didn’t, how they always went for the
street lit.

“They were really excited when they saw your book,” she told
me, that the four copies she had ordered were in the cells with the inmates.

I noticed she had two copies of The Great Gatsby. “Do they go for this?” I asked.

She shook her head. I ran my fingers over the two, uncreased
bindings of the books.

She brought me into the maximum-security hall. Cells
surrounded the massive mess area like cages around a Roman amphitheater. A
large, black corrections officer greeted me, asking the inmates in bright
orange milling around if they were coming into the classroom. “These are my max security kids,” the CO told
me. “Murderers and rapists.” The juxtaposition of the words ‘kids’ and
‘rapists’ startled me.

The classroom looked like any classroom— rows of desk chairs
facing a dry erase board. The CO called to the mess hall again and the room
filled up with over 30 orange shirts with young black and Latino faces. Four of
them had my book; tattered, worn copies that had been passed around. Their
chorus commenced:

“How I get
published?”

“How I stop
people stealin’ my work?”

“You know
Teri Woods?”

“She cool?”

“How much
you get paid?”

The CO yelled for them to calm down. I wondered what he
would do if they didn’t, but they settled. In the quiet they looked less like
children. Though their bodies slumped with young agitation, their faces
betrayed a life-weary cynicism that aged them. Many of them would go straight
to adult jail.

I read a passage about Izzy, my main character, and his
first encounter with violence as a nine-year-old boy. He witnesses a
convenience store robbery where the robber shoots several bystanders and the
clerk. He tries to shoot Izzy but the gun jams, so the murderer leaves,
confused.

The kids were sincerely quiet this time. I discussed how
Izzy was frozen by this event, how he grows up to be a 38-year-old ‘Stickup
kid.’ The story comes full circle, and Izzy finds himself committing a robbery,
his partner demanding Izzy kill an innocent bystander.

“In this book, Izzy is faced with a choice. The code of the
streets makes a demand of him, asks something of his humanity this time. He can
chose to reject that code. He can either be the man he has been or the man he
would like to be. That’s a choice we make every day—will we let the actions of
our past define our future?”

The old-young faces averted their eyes, tapped on their
desks and restlessly adjusted themselves. Two returned my gaze flush—a light
skinned black with a serious face and short dreads, and a skinny darker skinned
kid who still resembled a kid. I realized then that some of them had no choice
about their future. No matter what they would like to be, the actions of their
past had already fixed the road ahead.

I wondered if I was somehow insulting them by suggesting
they could change. Now that they were locked up, the behavior that got them
there would be needed to survive. Still, they were so young, I figured if I
could send any message at all, reform had to be it. Even if they couldn’t quite
get my words, the sound might seep through like music sung in a foreign
language.

The serious kid raised his hand. “You like first person or
third person?” he asked. “My book is both.”

I smiled. “It’s best to pick one and stick,” I told him.

“What’s the difference?” asked the kid kid.

And just like that I was having a conversation about
narrative, perspective and voice with five or six young, aspiring novelists.

“Who should
we read?” one asked.

I turned and wrote a list on the dry-erase board of the
untapped resources in their library, beginning with Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.

 Theo Gangi is a
novelist who’s first book, Bang Bang (Kensington) was released in November 2007. Hailed
by Mystery Scene Magazine as “The hip-hop Elmore Leonard,” his stories have
appeared in The Greensboro Review, The
Columbia Spectator and The Kratz Center
Sampler. His articles and reviews have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, Crimespree Magazine, 3AM Magazine and Crucial Minutiae.com, where he has a
weekly column. The son of a prisoner’s rights advocate and graduate of Columbia
University’s MFA program, Mr. Gangi currently teaches writing at John Jay
College of Criminal Justice, CUNY. His second novel, Twist the Trees (Kensington) will be released in 2009.

Wine of the Week:  How about some suggestions from you this week??? What’s your favorite?

By J.T. Ellison

Oxymoron of the Week: A Good Problem

Usage: Wow, that’s a good problem to have!

How can a problem be a good thing? By its very nature, problems are just that, issues that create roadbloacks, which in turn need to be overcome. This week, I’ve been facing my own oxymoron, one of those "good problems." I’m getting started on my new book in earnest. I’m writing full-time, which is the good part (thanks, Brett, for that reminder). So, here goes with the problem side of the equation.

How do you write a book?

Because I need to confess… I’ve had a few moments over the past week that make me think I’ve forgotten.

This might sound insane to you readers, but the writers out there know what I’m talking about.

Starting a new book is a bit like climbing out onto an icy ledge in the Himalayas with a 10,000 foot drop-off. The view is beyond description, but there’s the terror of plunging to your death to contend with.

I know I’m not alone when I say I have a hard time getting started on a new book. This is the fourth "new" book I’ve begun, and I’ve had this issue with each one. I forget how to do it. I stutter, and stall, write a few pages and walk away, find a hundred other things that need to be addressed immediately, all the while telling myself, just get this one last thing done, and it’s full-steam ahead in the morning. It’s when I’ve said that for fourteen days in a row when I recognize that I’ve got the yips.

In golf, the yips are most prevalent in putting. Even the most experienced golfer has bouts of the yips — most commonly described as an involuntary movement of the wrist at the last moment in your stroke which makes the put pull or lag. It’s frustrating as hell. It also has pure psychological underpinnings, which sometimes manifest themselves physically. The more stress, the worse your yips.

And just a like a good golfer seeks help for their issues, a good writer sits down and does a mental check, trying to ascertain what’s happening. This isn’t writer’s block, mind you. Writer’s block is much more organic, much deeper. What I’m experiencing is this silly, frustrating feeling that I don’t know how to write a book.

Obviously I do. I’ve written several now. So what’s wrong with me?

I’ve been posing this question to those closest to me this week, with twofold hopes. One — reassurance, the yes, you can do it pep talks. Two — maybe someone could tell me how to fix my yips. I’ve received tons of the former, and none of the latter. So I interviewed myself, starting at the beginning. It took a few days of massive navel-gazing (also known as Facebook Syndrome) to realize the "how" behind my writing.

I dreamed the plot of the first book. The second was based on three separate scenes, full-blown mental vignettes, that popped into my head and stuck there. Strangely enough, one was simply a look between Taylor and Baldwin. I knew I needed that scene, it was vital, and strong, and important to their development. So I wrote the entire book around it. Then came the two others vignettes, and I built around those.

Okay. Now I’m getting somewhere. The third book, based in part on a real-life murder, also had these elemental building blocks, a few key scenes that gave me the tools to build the story around them. I saw them in my mind’s eyes, heard the dialogue, felt the surroundings, and went from there.

With this epiphany, I was able to start thinking about this new book in a different way. It already has a plot, already has a character line-up. The conflict and the resolution are set, the middle is still a bit amorphous, but the basic gist of the story exists. Driving home yesterday, I had one of those vignettes come to me, a scene of dialogue that I realized was coming from this new book. After my self-actualization yesterday evening, I sat down and put it on paper. As I did, a few other scenes popped in.

Phew.

So now I know how I write a book. I have two or three scenes banging around in my head, they gel and morph, and I write the story around them. This feels like a mess to me, when I look at it on paper. For a structured person, I’m certainly not when it comes to the actual writing of the book. But the relief I felt when I realized the "How" was palpable. I’ve just got one or two things to clear off my plate, and tomorrow it’s full-steam ahead. I’ve conquered my yips.

So let me know I’m not alone. Writers, tell me your "How." And to our readers, what gets you sidetracked from your goals?

Wine of the Week: Cascina Pellerino Langhe Nebbiolo

A Quick, Happy P.S.

Good thing I’ve gotten the yips under control. Yes, the rumors are true, the announcement has been made. I’m thrilled to
let you know that I’ve just signed a new deal with my incredible editor Linda McFall at Mira for three more
Taylor Jackson books. Many thanks to everyone who had a hand in this, especially my wonderful agent, Scott Miller. So to celebrate, I think everyone should head to
the store and buy a copy of BURN ZONE, from one of Taylor’s favorite
authors, James O. Born. BURN ZONE released yesterday, and is the second in the Alex Duarte series.
Trust me, it’s well worth your time. Oh, and Jim is one of my favorites
too, so if Taylor’s endorsement isn’t enough, please accept mine as
well.

Yip!

by J.T. Ellison

Time for a deep, philosophical discussion.

One of the movie channels has been replaying DEEP IMPACT ad nauseam this month.  I’ve watched it about six times, picking up in the middle, watching the end, catching the beginning. I like the movie. I like Téa Leoni; she’s one of my favorite actresses.  She’s one of those people I can imagine sitting down with and having a glass of wine, and she’s probably got a plethora of dirty jokes, and she’s married to David Duchovny, who’s just shy of brilliant in CALIFORNICATION, and manages to insert the F word with such laissez-faire… okay, so fan girl motivations aside…

I like the movie because I like the choices being made. Would you give up your ticket to life so you could reconcile with someone you love? Would you give up your ticket to life in the hopes of rescuing someone you love? Would you be a hero, or would you be so relieved that you’ve got the ticket to life that you’d cower in the corner and allow the people you know and love die?

I’m not a big End of Days, waiting for the Rapture kind of girl. I’ve always had a rather pragmatic approach to life. There’s one big problem with it. You can’t get out alive. To be honest, when I was young, I had the most morbid fascination — I was absolutely positive that I wasn’t going to make twenty-one. Yes, I am a Billy Joel fan. But in all seriousness, I was living a truncated life, not quite doing all the things I should do, not entirely taking things as seriously as I could have, because it seemed a bit pointless. I wasn’t going to make it to twenty-one, did my GPA really matter? Was a laude going to make a difference? Hardly.

I was rather stupid about the whole "life" thing. I was a complete agnostic, drank much too much, fell in puppy love much too easily, didn’t take things seriously enough. Funny how different we are when we’re in college.

And on my twenty-first birthday, I drove back to school from a weekend at home with my lovely parents, stopping at liquor stores along the way. I had a trunk full of booze and never got carded. Every time a car appeared on the horizon (the road to school was a lovely meander through the Virginia countryside) I expected them to veer off at the last second, causing a head on collision, ending my life. I made it to school unscathed. No pianos dropped on my head when I was entering the dorm. No hostage shootouts ensued. And when I went to bed that night, not at all drunk because I had a final in the morning, I had a strange thought. I’d lived to see twenty-one. Which surely meant I’d either die in my sleep or immediately upon waking in the morning, in some sort of horrific shower incident.

I didn’t, of course. When I hit twenty-two, I was rather astounded. At twenty-three, newly hooked up with this awfully cute guy, in grad school, working at the White House, I begrudgingly admitted that perhaps, just perhaps, I was wrong about dying young.

I’m still pragmatic about death. I’m happy. If I weren’t, I’d probably feel much differently. But as it stands, I love and I am loved. I have great satisfaction and contentment from my career. My philosophy is to live each day to the fullest, tell those around me that I love them, and be thankful for each morning, and for each dusk.

When I watch DEEP IMPACT, I think about what I would do if I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that all life was going to cease, and it was completely out of my control. (I smell a book in there, too.)  Would I get on a plane and go to Italy? Would I want to read a book, make love to my husband, be with my family, get drunk? Would I want to try things I’ve never tried before, or be content that I’ve lived my life, and sit back and wait for it to happen? Would I write?

So to that end, without being too morbid, what would you do if you found out that the world was going to end in the next 24 hours?

Wine of the Week:

Two wines today. One a lovely red that surprised me — Sacred Stone – Master’s Red Blend

And because I’m in a celebratory mood, a bit of the bubbly — Zardetto Prosecco

PS – This was another of those bizarrely prescient posts. Click here
for a slideshow that will give you an idea of what it was like here
in middle Tennessee Tuesday night. God bless those who didn’t make it through okay, and those who did.

by J.T. Ellison

Ever have those days that no matter what you’ve set out to do, you can’t make it happen?

I’m having one of those days. It’s Monday, after a hugely successful library event in Alabama. Copyedits were turned in Saturday, jetting to New York overnight in their glorious little envelopes. There’s something special about overnight mail. The sense of urgency, of expectation, of accomplishment, well, it’s just one of those fun things. Whether I’m expecting it or sending it, I get a little thrill.

I had a very intense round of copyedits last week, making sure I made the book the very best I could make it. Copyedits are the last chance to make substantial changes, and I knew I wanted to plug a couple of holes in addition to whatever issues the CE caught. I had to be doubly careful to make sure all the little things we left or changed in the first book were consistent in this one. Like calling Taylor by her nickname on the force, LT. Common usage among police officers. It’s short for Lieutenant, obviously. In the first book, we kept it as LT. This copyeditor wanted it to read L.T. Which meant a ton of STET scribbled on the manuscript. When that happened, I realized I needed to be extra careful that everything from book 1 was consistent with book 2. Which meant twice the work.

No worries, that’s what we’re here to do. Make things right. Right???

So I was especially happy to send these CE’s back to New York. I count my blessings. Being copyedited is an eye opening experience. Much to learn, much to absorb. Every house has their style guide, so there’s that to consider. I’ve learned so much about formatting through the CE process… silly little things like the chapter heading is simply the spelled out number. Don’t indent the first paragraph after a heading or break. Little things like that. I try to incorporate the typesetting into the development of the manuscript. I now understand when published authors tell writers on submission not to worry about fancy formatting. The CE will just remove it anyway. Don’t waste your time. Got it.

Once the CEs were off, it was early to bed for a Sunday appearance, and plans to finalize for a Tuesday night signing. Busy, busy, busy. I figured Monday would be a perfect day of rest. I’d read, maybe watch a movie or two.

Instead I found myself hitting refresh on my email. After a morning that is better unremembered (I may blog about what upset me at a later date, once I’m sure nothing can be done about it) I got myself into four separate conversations and we spent most of the day "e-talking." I mindlessly refreshed Crimespot, my email, the news sites, my email, reread the same three or four blogs (I guess wishfully thinking that a fresh post would appear by magic for my enjoyment,) cleaned out my bookmarks, checked my email, debated about what organizations to re-up and which to let memberships lapse, checked my email… I read a grand total of one page, looked at the clock and saw it was 4:00 PM. Lost the whole day, for nothing. I decided to heck with it, I’ll just nail a few blog entries. So here I am.

It’s funny how I get myself derailed on the "day after." I’m finding this more and more. If I’ve traveled over the weekend, I have to have a day to goof off. If I finish writing a book, I need at least a week, if not a month, to recover. If I’m waiting to hear back from someone about something, I have a very difficult time not checking to see if that answer has come in. It irks me, these lost days. I hate that I’ve wasted a perfectly good opportunity to do… well, anything but goof off.

I was so excited last Sunday morning. I was digging in my overnight case for my mascara, getting ready for the Alabama gig. It was only and hour and a half drive, no sense in overnighting it. (I asked them to take my accommodation stipend and donate it back to the library, and they were pleased. I was fed well instead.) So as I was putting on my makeup, I realized that wow, I can actually unpack this. I don’t need to go out of town overnight for, let’s see… oh. I might as well leave it packed. Two weeks. A grand total of two weeks at home. If it gives you any perspective, that case has been packed since November.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change anything. Lost days are just the nature of the beast. But being on the road in support of a book is hard work. To be honest, I’m tired. I can’t even imagine what people like John Connolly, who tours for a month in a different country, must feel like. Nowadays, I get overwhelmingly excited that I have a weekend at home. Of course, that means people who’ve been neglected need to see you, but at least I don’t have to dress up for them.

There’s no such thing as taking a vacation anymore either. You have to plan to do drop ins wherever you are. It’s a mind boggling turn of events. You never look at travel the same way again.

They say be careful what you wish for.

My biggest problem is the more I’m on the road, the longer it takes me to get back to my rhythm. And one of the things that newbie writers don’t realize is when you write two books a year, you are working on three at once, at all times. Start from this moment in time. While the copyedits are being done on 2, book 3 is being read by my editor, and I’ve started on book 4. In another couple of months, there will be galleys of book 2 and edits of book 3 while trying to finish book 4. Then there will be launch of book 2, copyedits on book 3 on the 4th book being turned in, which just means that work on # 5 needs to start. It’s insane. And I love it.

Add into this that writing and touring and getting exhausted is FUN. Let me repeat that. It’s FUN. I love
meeting new people. I’ve nearly licked the fear of speaking in front of a
group. I love meeting people who’ve read the book and liked it. I love
meeting the librarians, and booksellers, and festival coordinators —
people who love the written word as passionately as I do.

But since I’ve always been able to write four hours a day and not travel, it’s taking some time to adjust to the new expectations. What do you do when you travel to get your head back in the game quickly? Is it better to schedule a month to do all the promotion, then stay home the remainder of the time? Do you really lose out if you don’t travel to all the conferences?

I’m more convinced than ever that I need to limit myself to one or two of the biggies (next year I’m thinking about BCon, RWA and Romantic Times) and intersperse one or two smaller cons in. I love the book festivals, and think they are an excellent way to get your name in places you’d otherwise never be known, so you have to add in a few of them. Then you have your regular signing events… I’ve actually said no to a couple of invites because A — the money wasn’t available to make it happen, and I just can’t talk myself into making a huge monetary commitment to get myself in front of ten people, and B — I’m burning out. When, in the midst of all this travel and promotion, will I have time to write?

These are the issues new writers need to grapple with. You vets out there know how to manage all this. Can you throw some advice my way???

Wine of the Week: Cascina Pellerino Langhe Nebbiolo