RWA 2010

Jessica rushed off to a breakfast meeting this morning, so I thought I'd pop on here and say hello from the Romance Writers of America conference in hot, sticky Walt Disney World.

Most of our days have been spent meeting clients to catch up and talk career strategy, speaking on workshop panels (I'm presenting today with St. Martin's editor, Rose Hilliard, and my client Christie Craig and her writing partner Faye Hughes about "Surviving, Overcoming, and Learning the Truth about Rejection'), and attending various cocktail parties to network with authors and other industry professionals.

Obviously, the highlight of the RWA conference came Wednesday night at the BookEnds party. ;) I coerced Jessica into holding it at a sushi/karaoke bar in the hotel. And well, I just didn't think it would be very sporting of us to host a party there without getting up on stage and belting out a little number, ourselves. We felt it was pretty reasonable to assume the place would have the "Mickey Mouse Club" Song in their system, but I thought it would be more fun to change up the lyrics a bit. Here's the BookEnds version:

Who's the best agency
With books for all to read?
B-O-O-K-E-N-D-S-L-I-T

Hey there, Hi there, Ho there
Come share a drink with me
B-O-O-K-E-N-D-S-L-I-T

BookEnds Lit! Read our blog!
BookEnds Lit! Read our books!
Forever let us hold our authors high!
High! High! High!

Come along and write a book
And join the agency!
B-O-O-K-E-N-D-S-L-I-T

Frankly, our performance wasn't exactly seamless. Simon Cowell would NOT have approved. And I'm not sure our clients could even discern my clever, cutesy little lyrics. But we truly had a blast. And we're pretty sure our clients got a kick out of us making fools out of ourselves. But that's half the fun, right?

Now to brainstorm how to top it with next year's bash!

Have a great weekend!

Kim

The Definitive Top-Five List of A Writer's Rewards

Lickety Splitter, a non-writing (she says) follower of mine, has said she tried writing, but it seemed like way too little rewards for way too much agony, and so she quit it. I'm amazed that anybody could be smart enough to see this low reward-to-work ratio and get out while the gettin's good.

But then, no. I could never give up writing, because there ARE rewards.

OK, now you ask me to name them. Details, details.

Oh, you REALLY want me to name them. A little trust, people. If I say there are rewards, then there are -- ptui. You're not going to shut up until I enumerate them, are you?

So for the Doubting Thomases in my readership, here is the definitive Top Five Rewards list for writers.

5) People think you're smart.

It's true. If you let the non-writing public find out you are writing a book, people are genuinely impressed with you. They assume you are going to join the ranks of JK Rowling and Stephanie Meyer and that they will have known you when. Do not disavow them of such beliefs.

4) People will excuse your messy house.

The non-writing public will (generally speaking) give you a pass if your house is cluttered but essentially sanitary. They assume that you are expelling blood, sweat, toil and tears during all your free time, and that you don't have time to deal with dust bunnies.

3) People will excuse your strange behavior.

The NWP (non-writing public) will soon grow accustomed to you stopping in mid-sentence, shrieking, "Eureka!" and then scribbling something on your palm only to dash off for your laptop. When you NAME your dust bunnies and talk to them, the NWP will smile and say things like, "Well, yanno, she's one of those creative types."

2) You may get some dough.

Most writers don't get rich, but they can, if they're lucky and work at it, garner anything from enough to take a vacation to enough to quit the day job and still survive. Doing what you love for a living? That's not work. And what idiot walks away from money that can be made with so little capital investment?

1) You will remain true to yourself.

Eventually the NWP will get impatient with you and say, "So when's that big best-seller coming out?" But there's something about seeing your words in print, even if it's in the local paper, that gives you a thrill that won't quit. It's addictive. If you are a writer, you can't REALLY quit (which is why I suspect that Lickety Splitter, with her keen observations on her colorful blog, is truly a writer in hibernation). But if you did PRETEND to quit, you'd be denying a part of yourself. That would make as much sense as looking at your left hand and saying, "Huh, don't use it much. Guess I could chop it off and it wouldn't be cold in the winter time."

So be honest. Deal in truth. Say it loud and say it proud: I am a writer, I'm for real, even if I haven't been pubbed, and I do it for ME.

Spending Money to Make Money

I’ve always been a huge fan of Seth Godin, and now that I finally got my act together to follow him on Twitter I can guarantee that many future blog posts are going to be inspired by his words of wisdom. If you’ve never read Seth Godin, do. He’s a must-read for any business owner, and as writers seeking publication, you are business owners.

Seth says it perfectly in his post on Spending Money to Make Money. There is a point in your business when it makes sense to have others do things for you. As writers the most important thing you can do is write a great book. Obviously once you start publishing a lot of things are going to cut into what was once dedicated writing time. Now, in addition to writing and revising in the way you’ve always done, you are also going to have to revise for your editor, review copyedits, review page proofs, work on the proposal for your next book, and write your next book. Add in publicity, marketing, fan mail, and a conference schedule and you’re going to begin to wonder where sleep fits in.

The problem with finding time to do all of this is that the first thing that often suffers is the writing. Your family is still going to have the same demands, and while you might be able to miss a soccer game here or there it’s likely you’re not going to be able to shut them out completely. Your day job? Well, most of you are still going to need the day job and I can’t imagine your boss will allow you to write, answer fan mail, or review your copyedits on her time. The problem is that you can’t let it cut into your writing time either. You cannot allow your next book to suffer. In fact, your next book has to be even better than your last.

Many of you will immediately say that you can’t afford to hire someone to help. Have you tried? Have you even looked into it? Have you considered the fact that if you spent a portion of your advance on hiring someone to do something (even if it’s mailing out your publicity materials for you) you might have made a bigger investment than spending the same amount on bookmarks could ever do?

Just as Seth Godin says, what works is going to depend on how you’re currently spending your money, but it might be worth considering.


Jessica

In need of an idea -- or frequent flier miles

Yesterday (pre-migraine) a college professor/writer that I am acquainted with tricked me into coming out of my shell.

OK, really, truly there were no tricks. He merely asked me if I would be willing to teach a seminar on writing to high school students and a class or two to college students on creative writing.

I said yes before I could really think about it. I love talking about writing, and I love teaching writing. If I had the dollars and the time, I'd go back and get the parchment that would say I could dayjob by teaching creative writing. Alas, the idea of doing more post-grad work makes my head ache worse.

Also, these commitments were blissfully out in the future -- the high school one is not until February.

Then Dr. Writer (who shall remain nameless) told me the kicker about the high school seminar: the time block is two hours, and in that time, the students have to produce a sample of writing that is judged for an English scholarship.

Yikes! Back I retreated into my turtle shell.

Usually when I'm asked to do something like this, I focus on something useful -- query letters or synopses or just a general overview of the writing/publishing biz. But these kids will be nowhere near submitting for publication (well, most of 'em, anyway), and I don't think even the best query letter could be good enough to base an English scholarship on.

So onto my quandary: what component of writing can I teach to high school students that I can teach in, say, an hour or so, and leave them enough time to craft a good sample of their writing?

My thoughts so far? Let's go all James Joyce and stream-of-consciousness for a moment.

Eeek! Can I get out of this? Maybe an unexpected trip out of the country? No, no, my word is my bond ... two hours! Not even two, because they have to write and how can they write anything in two hours that will give them a good shot at writing and what if I can't shut up about writing and take the whole two hours and they have zip to show for their scholarship? Two hours! TWO HOURS! I can say no, sure I can say no, no, no, I can't say no, say, how about dialogue?

Once I hit the brakes on the runaway train that is my thought process (ain't pretty, is it?), I tell myself to define the problem and get on with finding a solution. I have to teach a bite-size chunk, and dialogue is something that could be bite-sized.

Other possibilities:

1) Setting and imagery

2) First pages

3) Show, don't tell.

So you tell me. Back when you were a high school kid who thought all romance writers were rich and ate bon-bons all the live-long day and wore feather boas and stilettos and resembled Barbara Cartland, what could you have listened to in sixty short minutes and then turned into some sort of work product?

Because it's either you help me come up with this, or I'm hitting Tawna Fenske up for some of her frequent flier miles out of the country.

Mastering the Elevator Pitch

Anyone who is a member of RWA knows that today kicks off the RWA National conference in Orlando, and, as always, I will be in attendance. Unfortunately, due to time constraints, I will be doing things a little differently this year. This year, I have not signed up to hold author pitch appointments. I’m already participating in two workshops and at least one agent panel. Adding in appointments would severely cut into the time I have with clients, and since that’s why I’m really there, it just didn’t make sense for me this year.

So what do you do if you were hoping to pitch to me and are disappointed I’m not taking pitches, or what if you planned to pitch to another agent but didn’t get a slot with her? Why, the elevator pitch, of course. Or the bar pitch, the breakfast pitch, the lobby pitch. Just whatever you do, don’t try the bathroom pitch or the gym pitch.

Every agent will have a different suggestion for how to pitch agents outside of a traditional pitch appointment. What’s mine? Toss the pitch altogether. I hate the feeling that the only reason an author is talking to me is for the opportunity to pitch a story. That being said, I love to talk about this business. If you happen to catch me at the bar by myself or enjoying a cup of coffee in the corner, don’t hesitate to approach me. It’s almost guaranteed that I’ll be reading something, but if I’m in public I’m expecting to talk to people. If I want a break I’ll sneak out of the hotel for a walk or up to my room for a nap.

How do you approach? Walk right up, say excuse me and ask if I would mind if you joined me for a minute or if you could talk to me. I like to think I’m a pretty friendly person and I don’t think I’ve ever turned anyone down. I might tell you I only have a few minutes, but since it’s National I always only have a few minutes.

What to say? Come with some questions, some comments, or compliment me on my brilliant shoe choice that day. In other words, have a conversation with me. It’s almost guaranteed that I’ll ask you about your writing at some point, but if not, what you’re doing is making an impression. Listen, I accept queries from everyone. Getting a query to me isn’t the point. Making yourself memorable is. If you have questions about the business, want a professional’s advice on your book idea, or just want to sit down and take a load off for a minute, this is the time for that. If our time is cut short and you haven’t pitched, I think that’s fine. In fact, it’s great. I’m usually tired of the pitches and networking is about far more than pitches. And this way, when you query (which is often a more comfortable way to pitch anyway) you can say that we enjoyed a nice talk in the corner of Starbucks right before my meeting with Sally MacKenzie. I’m sure to remember you and that’s what networking is all about. As to whether or not it means I’ll request your work: A verbal pitch won’t do that either, but it might give your work that extra little push if I’m on the fence.

Can’t wait to meet you.

Jessica

Zedonks and subgenres

This week in Georgia, we had a rare birth: a donkey gave birth to a zedonk -- a cross between a zebra and a donkey. The little thing is cute as pie, with the striped legs of a zebra and the face of a donkey.

I always think about the world through one of two filters, that of The Kiddo or writing. The zedonk made me think of genres being mixed willy-nilly, coming up with totally new stuff. It's kind of like that old Reese's commercial: "Hey, you got your peanut butter in my chocolate!"

Take for instance, romantic suspense. In today's writing market, we tend to take it for granted, like it's always been there. Not so. The first person to really successfully combine the two genres in a seamless sort of way was Mary Stewart, of TOUCH NOT THE CAT fame, with her first romantic suspense in 1955 with MADAME, WILL YOU TALK?

I like a little mystery with my romance and a little romance with my mystery, and I do wonder why it took us writers so long for someone to come up with the idea. That's true creativity, if you ask me: someone taking two things we take for granted and combining them in a new and creative way.

Now we have zombies invading Jane Austen's world, and vamps routinely making inroads into the YA sphere. Sometimes I wonder what's new that's left to be written or even combined. But I know that I'm just too blind to see the obvious. Someone will come up with something that will make us all go, "Aaack! Why didn't I think of that?" and while we're doing the palm-to-forehead routine, the intrepid author will be whistling all the way to the bank.

But as far as the peanut-butter-in-my-chocolate that we have NOW, what's your favorite sub-genre? What's a classic of that genre, something that would be the book you'd point a new reader toward in order to introduce the sub-genre in its best light?

PRAGMATISM

Pragmatism is a philosophy created by William James. According to James the truth of an idea had to be tested to prove its validity. Pragmatism boils down to "If it works it must be right." AKA Relatavism. It is the thought behind the 'modernising' of the gospel. However Pragmatism cannot work with Christianity. Jeremiah cries out to God that in his obedience to proclaim His word he is "in derision daily, everyone mocks him" 20:7. Jesus taught that many will follow the crowd, the way which seems right and popular and yet will be destroyed Matthew 7:13-14. God called Ezekiel to a people, with a message, who wouldn't hear him. Paul admitted the gospel message preached was 'foolishness' and a 'stumbling block' to many 1Cor 1:18-23. The Gospel therefore fails the Pragmitism test. Consider the end of Jesus ministry! He surely failed the test of pragmatism! Nethertheless thousands are added to the church daily. Pauls summs it up like this "God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise" 1Cor 1:27. To God be the power and the wisdom and the glory. Amen.

A sackful of writing lessons

Bagging groceries is a lost art.

Some years ago, Tawna Fenske gifted me with a few reusable shopping bags, way before they were popular in my neck of the woods. I use those and an insulated shopping bag to pack my groceries in. Even now, the cashier and bagger will give me sort of quizzical looks, as though I've just asked them to stand on their heads.

This past Saturday the bagger totally ignored the chill bag and just tossed things harem-scarem into any bag she could get her hands on. The bathroom cleaner was chunked in with my bread. My frozen chicken tenders were in a bag all by their lonesome. And my chill bag? Well, the bagger held it in her hands and said, "Uh, guess I could have used this for the cold stuff."

I'd sorted the cold stuff as I put it on the register's conveyor belt. I'd asked the cashier to put my cold stuff in the chill bag. But bagger and cashier both looked lost as haints, as my grandmother used to say, so I pushed my cart out of the way of the next person in line and started re-bagging my groceries.

Yes, a tad OCD, but the temps were hovering in the 100-degree neighborhood, and I did have 30 minutes of drive-time in front of me to get home. As I rescued my bread from the bathroom cleaner -- which later proved to be leaking -- I thought about how baggers used to take such care with groceries. When I was little, paper bags were the rule, and cold things like ice cream went into a super-heavy small paper bag. Baggers took pride in filling the sacks so that, if the bag were ripped away, the contents would almost be able to stand in a tightly-packed tower.

I blame it on those infernal plastic bags. Baggers now toss a few items in each bag and stick your bread and your eggs on top of the pile. They've never learned the intricate art of assembling a bag of groceries -- or even that it mattered.

Computers, in a way, have made writing novels seem easy and accessible, just like those plastic bags. People think that writing a book is something you can just toss together: you open up a word processing document and start with Chapter One. No planning. No thinking of plot. No need to develop characters.

I'm not talking plotter vs. pantsers here. Pantsers do all the thinking and planning and character development after they have the framework done, whereas plotters get it done first. I'm not talking about people who are just starting out and don't know beans about writing - everybody's got to start somewhere.

Nope, I'm thinking instead of people who SHOULD know better but don't. They think a first draft is the ONLY draft they need to write before they send it off to a publisher, with the next stop Number One on the NYT Best-Seller List. They think that their manuscript should never be subjected to an editor's tender mercies, and that any suggestion of improving their story is a request for them to sacrifice their art on the altar of commerce.

Nobody reading this would fall in that category -- the folks I'm arghing about are too hard-headed to read blogs about writing. But as you continue to write, I can guarantee that you will run into these sorts of people -- the equivalent of my Saturday bagger who couldn't understand that cold stuff should go into a chill bag.

My advice? Smile and say, "Oh, you're writing a novel? Wow. That's great." If they're really interested in learning, they'll ask YOU questions that will signal that they understand the cardinal rule of being a writer: no matter where you are in learning the craft, there's always SOMETHING you can learn.

Erin Kellison on Series

Erin Kellison
Shadow Fall
Publisher: Leisure
Pub date: July 2010
Agent: Jessica Faust



(Click to Buy)


Books in a Series: What Are You Writing?

I attended RomCon earlier this month, a conference dedicated to readers of romance. During one of the sessions, a panel asked readers (including booksellers, bloggers, and reviewers) what their tastes were about books in a series. The conversation briefly settled on a debate between a series of stand-alone books (e.g., books set in the same world, but each featuring different sets of main characters) versus a series driven by continuing characters. While it was mentioned that mystery often has a continuing character, no one firmly attributed either kind of series to a specific genre (like romance, UF, mystery), I think because in many cases the genre lines are blurred.

Here’s my experience, from pre-pubbed to pubbed: When I started Shadow Bound, the first book in my Shadow series, there was no doubt that it would be a stand-alone. It was my first book, so I really felt it needed to have complete character arcs, but I also believed that the world had definite series potential. When I sold Shadow Bound, the acquiring editor asked if I had a series in mind, referencing a secondary character for the next book. We settled on Custo Santovari, probably my favorite character thus far. It seemed that the stand-alone was the way to go. My contract was for two books; they each needed to be complete in and of themselves. I held out hope that I’d get to write more. And, thank goodness, I do.

Shadow Bound was released last month, so now I’m starting to get feedback from readers. The story straddles the line between romance and fantasy (in B&N I’m in the fantasy/sci-fi section; elsewhere I’m in romance), where both kinds of series are prevalent. And sure enough, many readers have expressed interest in what happens next for my Shadow Bound protagonists. They want the second kind of series, with continuing characters, which has made me pause and think (and write this blog). I think it’s a good sign, and I love that readers are invested enough to want to follow these characters. And of course now I have all these possibilities popping into my head for the characters of the previous book.☺ Even so, I think this series is better suited to stand-alones than a single overarching story. The next book still shifts to Custo’s story, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I tortured Custo in Shadow Bound, and it gets worse in Shadow Fall. And then a whole lot better.☺

So today I’m asking the readers of the BookEnds blog a similar question about series: What are you writing (and why)? Do you see it having series potential? If so, what kind of series–stand-alone or continuing characters? And what type of series do you prefer to read?

***

Erin Kellison is the author of the Shadow series, which includes Shadow Bound and Shadow Fall. Stories have always been a central part of Erin Kellison's life. She attempted her first book in sixth grade, a dark fantasy adventure, and still has those early handwritten chapters. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in English Language and Literature, and went on for a master's in Cultural Anthropology, focusing on oral storytelling. When she had children, nothing scared her anymore, so her focus shifted to writing fiction. She lives in Arizona with her two beautiful daughters and husband, and she will have a dog (breed undetermined) when her youngest turns five.

Learn more about Erin at www.erinkellison.com.

Silly Bandz and Books

What do Silly Bandz have to do with books? Well, nothing really. Sort of.

Silly Bandz, for those who don’t know, are the new craze in preteen fun and fashion. These innocuous little toys sell for about $5 for a box of twenty and kids love them. They wear them, trade them, and collect them. They can’t get enough. Who would have thought?

I mean really. Who would have thought that a box of rubber bands would become the next Pet Rock. I mean, for that matter, who would have thought that the Pet Rock would have become the Pet Rock?

And that’s how it works. That’s how books work too. No one, no one in this entire business, is absolutely sure about anything. There are no guarantees. I’ve seen agents and editors snap up books they are sure will be the next hot book and author only to see it fizzle, and I’ve seen agents and editors pay next to nothing for what eventually becomes the next hottest thing ever (Da Vinci Code, anyone?).

So when you decide that everyone is too stupid to see the next big bestseller or wonder why a certain book has become what it has become, think of Silly Bandz. Sure, now it’s easy to see why kids love them, but I personally am still confounded by how much. I mean really, sold out?

Jessica

Wherein I discover a few things about myself

Saturday night I talked books for three hours.

It was that Literary Ladies Night that I mentioned in a previous blog, the one where I said I had to choose my favorite book to share.

I was more than a little nervous about the evening. For one thing, since I'm a true introvert, I'm not a joiner. I'm not a mixer. I have been, all of my life, painfully shy and awkward, and inclined to blurt out things that come out entirely wrong. Maybe that's why I prefer books and writing to social functions -- at social functions there's no such thing as a delete key.

For another, two of the ladies to be at the event were college professors. Okay, so once upon a time I was a college English instructor, but one of these ladies had a master's degree and the other was the proud possessor of a Ph.D. To say that I was psyched out was an understatement of British proportions.

The third reason is that I had offered to bring chicken salad before I remembered that I was a Bad Cook. Sure, it's awfully hard to mess up chicken salad; after all it's just chicken, mayo and loads of sweet salad cubes (chunky relish for all you who reside north of the Mason-Dixon line.) But I'm terribly self-conscious of my cooking.

We wound up with six ladies, with six books, as well as egg-salad sandwiches, hummus and chips, pesto, strawberries and cantaloupe and brownies, plus my chicken salad. Round-robin we went. I was fifth, and glad of it so that I could Monkey-See-Monkey-Do.

Of course I had nothing to worry about. The college profs both brought very accessible stuff -- an English cozy and a book that was an out-of-print memoir that could actually be a targeted at a younger audience. I realized that when they meant favorite books, they meant comfort books -- the things you rested your soul with.

Each book sparked discussions about other books -- and one woman confessed she'd had to plod through WUTHERING HEIGHTS, as she'd felt inclined to slap the characters. It was a refreshing let-your-hair-down sort of evening, with no pretensions and lots of sharing -- and I came away with at least five books I hadn't read, but definitely wanted to after their thumbs-up.

I recommended GODS IN ALABAMA, and read a favorite scene (where Arlene Fleet loses it during a bout of home-sickness in a Chicago Wal-Mart). They all listened, asked intelligent questions, and seemed to be genuinely intrigued by the book.

Oh, and my chicken salad? They went back for seconds.

So yanno what? Maybe I've just been letting the wrong people eat my cooking, and maybe I've been going to the wrong social events. Because I'd go back there in a heartbeat, and I'd bring my chicken salad.

Auld Lang Summer

Today (and yes, I know I'm late again with the blog) I'm taking a Mental Health Day off from the Day Job.

Nope. I'm not writing (except for this.)

Nope. I'm not gonna Twitter (not much, anyway.)

Instead, I'm going to take The Kiddo to her last day of swimming lessons, because this summer she has gone from terrified of water to swimming like a fish, and I have yet to see a stroke of it.

And then I'm going to let her play at her friends' house, while I do something supremely important.

Absolutely nothing productive.

Yep. No projects. No grocery shopping. No back-to-school-clothes shopping. No cleaning. No de-cluttering. No writing. No research on a WIP. No research on agents or publishing houses. No research on DIY projects. Or getting organized. Or chasing down that 25th hour of the day.

I intend to have a summer day like I had when I was ten. Unstructured. Unproductive. Because I've been waaay too productive lately when it comes to my life.

I was somewhat lucky growing up. My mom was at first a stay-at-home mom and then a work-at-home mom. Summers were an endless string of come-what-may days, where there was no rush, no worry, no fuss, no muss.

We were productive, don't get me wrong. My mom was always one to have a project going -- usually building herself yet another kitchen on our hill. Summers also meant produce -- corn, peas, beans, tomatoes, okra, squash. We grew it and picked it and shelled/husked/peeled/cut it, and then we canned or froze it. It was hard work, but it was fun work, and I don't remember any deadlines save for food safety ones.

I remember one day, very clearly, that we'd spent the morning shelling purple hull peas (for you Yankees, think field peas, but much, much better) outside by our pool, where we wouldn't make a mess in the house. Even in the morning, the Georgia heat and humidity sweltered. My mom took one wistful look at the pool, set aside her big pan of shelled peas, and jumped in the pool, clothes and all.

If there was one thing that I could give The Kiddo, it would be a single summer like that: a summer where I didn't have to get up and put on dry-clean-only clothes and go work with my brain all day in an office, while she had to get up early and go to the sitter's. It would be a summer where there was no rush, no worry, no fuss, no muss. And if we had a pool, we would jump in with our clothes on.

Contest Winners

Christie Craig & Faye Hughes
Wild, Wicked & Wanton
Publisher: Adams Media
Pub date: June 2010
Agent: Kim Lionetti



(Click to Buy)

Once again, Faye and I would like to thank Jessica and Kim for letting us take over the BookEnds blog and for helping us celebrate romance novels.

The winners are:

Abigail Sharpe – Angie Fox - A Tale of Two Demon Slayers
Florence – Christie Craig & Faye Hughes - Wild, Wicked & Wanton: 101 Ways to Love Like You’re in a Romance Novel
Refhater – Elizabeth Amber - Dane, The Lords of Satyr
Lynn – Christie Craig – Shut Up and Kiss Me
HistoricalRomanceJunkieRita – Kim Lenox - Darker Than Night
Sugar – Lisa Dale - It Happened One Night
ChristiCorbett– Maureen Smith - Recipe for Temptation
Sammy – Gina Robinson - Spy Games
R.S. Bohn - Kate Douglas - Wolf Tales I, Wolf Tales X, or DemonFire [Your choice]


Congratulations! To claim your prize, please send us an email containing your name and mailing address to: info (at) WritewithUs (dot) net.

CC

A little rain, a little lightning

Sorry for the delay in posting, but last night was filled with thunderboomers, which meant no computer time for me. After having one computer fried by lightning, I take storms VERY seriously.

And maybe I'm a little phobic about bad weather. When I was kid, I never minded the storms, but my mom made a huge deal out of them. We'd sit in the dark when the power went off (as it frequently did out in the country), heating to death because of the summer's swelter, talking and worrying about how long the storm would last. I always thought it was much ado about nothing.

But then, when I was a freshman in high school, one afternoon the sky turned the weirdest green-orange I'd ever seen. Our gym was in a separate building, and I got soaked to the skin going through the rain. Me hating gym, I thought the logical thing for me to do was call my mom to come and get me. So I went to the office wing of the school to make a pleading phone call -- and the tornado alarm went off.

A tornado had destroyed a mobile home park about a mile or so down the road, and there were other reports of tornado warnings as well. I found that out as I sat huddled with other students in the hallways, listening to the worried and anxious whispers of teachers and staff.

It felt like forever we sat there -- and one reason it felt like an eternity to me was the guy that I was sitting next to. He already had the strapping frame of a Nebraska line-backer stuffed into a pair of faded-to-blue-white overalls. I know somewhere in this world he has grown up to be an avid watcher of The Weather Channel's Storm Stories, because he would NOT shut up about all the really bad tornado stories he knew.

Boy, did he know a lot of 'em, stories about pine needles buried into telephone poles, houses leveled to the foundation, people jerked up and relocated a mile down the road.

About the time I thought I would go insane if he didn't shut up, the principal stuck his head out into the hall and told me my parents had come for me.

My parents? I hadn't even been able to make the telephone call. They'd heard about the bad weather and had jumped into our little powder-blue '72 Vega to fetch me.

My relief at deliverance was short-lived. Our little powder-blue '72 Vega died on us, in the middle of a monsoon, about two miles from the school.

A mechanic rescued us -- a mechanic who had a knife as big as a small machete laid out on his front seat. He said he kept it there in case he encountered "trouble" on the road.

Between the spine-tingling storm stories of the Nebraska-line-backer-weather-channel addict, the stalled out car in the middle of the storm, and the scary mechanic, something clicked in me, and I've been more than a little nervous about storm ever since.

Selling Category

I'm polishing a novel that I think would make a great Harlequin Superromance.

But what happens if I’m rejected? It feels like writing a category-length romance novel is like putting all your eggs in one basket - there's really only one line it's suitable for, and if the acquiring editors there don't want it, they don't want it. Assuming they reject it because they don't think it's right for their line, and not because the writing sucks, is there anywhere else to submit to?

As an unpublished author, is it possible to sell these manuscripts to other publishers as novellas? Would an agent be less likely to take you on if you're submitting a novella to them, instead of a single-title romance?

I think the thing to understand here, and the thing that many authors forget, is that writing for category is not just about length. Yes, typically category-length means a shorter book since many category romances are shorter than other books. That being said, what makes a category romance is a lot more than just length. There’s a particular style to the story, to the voice, and to the plot, a style that might not work as a single title or novella.

There is often this misconception among category writers that to break out into single title you need to write a longer book. Well, yes, the book will be longer, but that doesn’t mean it’s simply the same book with more words. A single title book tends to be more complex and multilayered than category. I think category romance is a great place to be for those writers who find they really shine there, and for some I think it’s a stepping-stone to single-title romance, but I think that those who only see it as a stepping-stone are doing a disservice to themselves and others. Category can be an amazing career in itself. There are a number of very successful authors who enjoy writing category, do it well, and are making a pretty decent living writing those books.

Writing for category is great, but yes, it is a smaller market. In other words, there is only one publisher you can shoot for. What happens if you’re rejected? You learn why and take what you’ve learned to your next book and you keep going until it’s accepted. It’s the same thing you do if your single title is rejected.

Jessica

The Thing About Names

I have recently become a fan of a new author, one who has been around for a few years, but who I’ve just discovered. I’ve made attempts to recommend her work to everyone I meet. That’s how much I love it. The problem? I can never remember her name.

The author is publishing with two last names. You know, like Jessica Faust Smith, and for the life of me I can’t keep those names straight. I can’t remember which goes first, and for some reason, in her case, the names are similar enough that they blend together for me. This is why a name does matter and a pseudonym might be important. Names are tricky things, and when choosing what to publish under I always recommend something that’s simple, classic, stands out a little, but not too much. And you also want a name that people will be able to remember well enough to repeat to everyone they know.

The other problem with two last names is that the bookstores don’t always know where to shelve the book. If I'm publishing under Jessica Faust Smith, I will guarantee some will place my books under F while others will drop them under S. This is only a problem for those readers searching for books who refuse to ask for help.

Jessica

Kitteh haz plots? Does Kitteh haz fur?

It is plain scary when my kitties get along.

We brought Max home when The Kiddo was three, after an Unfortunate Incident with a kitten and our big overgrown Chocolate Lab, who mistakenly thought she could use said kitten as a toy. The Kiddo was distraught, and in a moment of weakness, I said, "Don't worry, baby, you can have a kitty."

Max was supposed to be a white purebred Persian, but The Kiddo and The Husband picked a lanky orange tabby half-breed because he needed a home. I came back from Christmas shopping to find said kitty lurking under our tree. Later, he discovered the tree was great for roosting. I did not, at least that year, bother with an angel. Why should I? I had a real-live orange tabby.

Six months later, after Max thought he was king of the castle, I returned from a RWA convention, the first time I'd ever been away from The Kiddo. The very moment I walked in the door, a mom of a friend of The Kiddo's called me up and said the magic words, "I have a stray Siamese kitten who needs a home."

I was picturing the classic seal-point, so The Kiddo and I got in the car, headed over to her friend's house, and there was a tiny runt of a white cat with toasted coconut ears, paws and tail. I had myself a flame-point -- that's a Siamese on steroids. The Kiddo named him Pete because she wanted a name she could spell.

Max is an affectionate boy, whose main issue is that he will NOT drink water from a bowl. He demands fresh water -- and assures himself it's fresh by overseeing its dispensation out of the tub faucet.

Pete has intimacy issues. He's the only cat I've ever seen who doesn't have a magic spot under his chin -- his is on his forehead, midway between his ears. If he wants attention, he is very naughty and nips. I had completely forgotten this tendency of Siameses when I agreed to adopt the rascal.

They tolerate each other. They don't hiss and spit unless they're truly out of sorts, and Pete likes to wait for Max to go out the door first (Siamese deviousness -- he knows that if a bear's out there, the first one out has issues.) They also do a weird changing of the guard -- one will come in the house when the other goes out, and sometimes Pete will meow by the door to let us know that Max wants in. Pete is smart enough to knock and once scared the be-jeebers out of us by climbing up and ringing the doorbell when we wouldn't answer.

Tonight, though, I walked into our bathroom and found both of them within six inches of each other -- a miracle. Pete was on the ledge of the tub, and Max had the prime real-estate, the closed toilet lid directly under the cool jet of the AC vent. They looked a little startled and embarrassed, and I had to wonder: were they plotting something?

I sure hope the plotting does not involve the demise of the Permed Dachshund -- the one critter they both heartily agree on.

Romance Authors on Romance

Christie Craig & Faye Hughes
Wild, Wicked & Wanton
Publisher: Adams Media
Pub date: June 2010
Agent: Kim Lionetti



(Click to Buy)



First, a huge thank-you to Jessica and Kim for letting us play at the BookEnds blog today. My nonfiction writing partner, Faye Hughes, and I are celebrating the June release of our humorous relationship/self-help book, Wild, Wicked & Wanton: 101 Ways to Love Like You’re in a Romance Novel. In the book, we talk about all the lessons that a real woman can learn about men and relationships from reading romance novels. That got us thinking, what lessons do romance authors think their books can teach?

To find out, we asked seven BookEnds romance authors, myself included, to share their thoughts about their latest novels. Now, to make it even more fun, each author will be giving away an autographed copy of one of their books to a lucky commenter. Faye and I will also give away a copy of Wild, Wicked & Wanton. Plus, since we all write in a variety of styles, sub-genres, and tones, not only can you win a free book, but you can get a glimpse into what Jessica’s and Kim’s tastes are when it comes to romance fiction. How cool is that? Oh, and before I forget: Faye and I are also running a contest at www.WritewithUs.net through the end of August. Please check it out.

Christie Craig

*

Christie Craig (Kim’s client): Shut Up and Kiss Me offers insight into how a man, especially those tall, dark and silent types, might say one thing, but mean another. For some men, just getting in touch with their feelings, and then voicing them, is as hard as teaching a cat to tap dance. And sometimes watching those creatures learn to dance can be a whole lot of fun and worth the wait.

Giving away a copy of Shut Up and Kiss Me

*

Kate Douglas (Jessica’s client): The emails I received when my Wolf Tales series first debuted in January 2006 were NOT what I expected—thank-you notes! Women writing to say the stories’ explicit sex scenes were perking up their sex lives (they were sharing the books with their husbands with instructions to “pay attention to how these guys do it!”), and men thanking me for writing books that had their wives chasing them around the bedroom. I had no idea I’d created a set of instruction manuals—not that that’s a bad thing, you understand—it just wasn’t quite what I expected.

Giving away a copy of one book–choose from Wolf Tales I, Wolf Tales X, or DemonFire

*

Elizabeth Amber (Jessica’s client): Dane, The Lords of Satyr reminds us of the bonds of loyalty between alpha brothers, and the bonds of secrecy they share as they engage in ancient family rituals in their Tuscany vineyard. It allows us to experience how deeply, fiercely, and thoroughly they love their women. It leaves us longing for alpha brothers of our own, especially those who are descended from the satyr–the carnal followers of the Roman god of wine.

Giving away a copy of Dane, The Lords of Satyr

*

Gina Robinson (Kim’s client): Spy Games offers hope, encouragement, and the possibility of empowerment to women, especially those coming from abusive or unhappy relationships. Not all handsome men are controlling, wacko stalkers. You can find one of the good guys—the hot hero who will defend and protect you against violent ex-boyfriends, power-hungry Hollywood producers, mafia bosses, and overzealous jewelry salesgirls. His love and loyalty may even make you want to go deep undercover.

Giving away a copy of Spy Games

*

Angie Fox (Jessica’s client): A Tale of Two Demon Slayers teaches that even though a man can occasionally act like a beast–or even turn into a griffin–things aren’t always as they appear. Be persistent, let him know how you feel, beware of meddling biker witches and soon you’ll chip away at that tough exterior and find a heart of gold.

Giving away a copy of A Tale of Two Demon Slayers

*

Maureen Smith (Jessica’s client): Readers who pick up a copy of Recipe for Temptation will discover that falling in love with a sexy celebrity chef can be an exhilarating, decadent experience. Especially when the culinary Casanova knows his way around a woman’s body as well as he knows his way around a kitchen. Bon appétit, ladies!

Giving away a copy of Recipe for Temptation

*

Kim Lenox (Kim’s client): Besides getting a spooky, sexy read in Darker Than Night, readers will find that true love doesn’t have to be a “perfect” love. Men can be flawed. Women can be flawed. We aren’t pieces of a puzzle that once matched, will perfectly fit. Happily-ever-after requires a love that is wholehearted and passionate, and above all—a love that forgives.

Giving away a copy of Darker Than Night

*

Lisa Dale (Kim’s client): I suppose if my books do teach something it's this: that fantasy romance can be born from real-life situations. For example, in my latest release, It Happened One Night, true love hides in plain sight. Lana Biel dreams of her perfect happily ever after (she longs to leave her family's wildflower farm to travel the world), but when a one-night stand leaves her expecting, plans change. She turns to her best friend Eli for help—and discovers that the stuff of dreams grows from the seemingly impossible tangles of real life.

Giving away a copy of It Happened One Night

Thank you, Alton Brown

I owe a huge thank you to Alton Brown -- you know, the half-chef, half-food scientist, all fun sort of guy on Good Eats? Well, thanks to him, I was able to cook a ribeye for The Big 2-0 for The Husband and me.

Yeah, we could have gone out to a fancy restaurant and had someone else do all the cooking. But then we would have added:

1) The stress of getting the reservations (for me and The Husband, it's a battle of wills. He doesn't want to do it, and I don't want to do it, so it usually doesn't get done.)

2) The stress of getting to the restaurant on time (I'm always late coming home from the dayjob. He's always the last one to the car. 'Nuff said.)

3) The stress of spending waaaay too much money.

4) The stress of getting back home at a semi-decent hour.

With all that possibility of stress, I decided that what I really wanted was a low-key anniversary. I wanted us to cook together. So Saturday I brought home a couple of six buck ribeye steaks, some red potatoes and some frozen brussels sprouts. (The Husband asked the potato soup and the sprouts.)

The Kiddo had supper with some friends, and The Husband and I talked more that evening than we probably had in the past six months. Having three jobs between us (his job, my dayjob and my writing), plus being parents, isn't a recipe for conversation.

Granted, I did most of the cooking, but The Husband stayed in the kitchen with me for most of the prep, and even washed a few dishes for me. The steak turned out perfectly, and for once, I got everything on the table at about the same time. For a bad cook, I didn't do a half-bad job -- salad, steak, potato soup, brussels sprouts, and rolls. I was going to do dessert, but didn't have time, and besides, we were stuffed with what we had.

We took a long walk, and talked some more. We talked about inconsequential things. But we talked. And that, after 20 years, is a mighty big deal.

Query Red Flags

These are actual details from query letters that ultimately caused me to reject the query almost immediately. To me these are red flags, or obvious signs that either the work isn’t ready or the author and I are not compatible.

I have written three books and three screenplays in the past three months.

My thought: written, but not edited or revised


I am writing this book to promote my website and business.

My thought: I would like you to think of the book as a business separate from your other work. It’s also just not that easy.


We are not interested in a contract that does not provide an advance something on the order of six figures.

My thought: While it’s admirable to have high hopes, this particular genre is not going to garner that type of advance for a debut author, and I do not want to waste my time working with an author who is likely to turn down any other offer we get.

Jessica

Because pea green is such an ugly color for a complexion

Except for Martians, lizards, geckos, other creepy-crawlies and the odd fish, I know of no living breathing critter that looks good with a complexion of pea green.

Especially writers.

This writing business is a capricious ride. People are plucked out of obscurity, out a slush pile of thousands, and suddenly, they have a book deal -- all because (at first) one person (dozens later) said, "Gee, I LIKE that!"

To writers who have been struggling for years just to get agents to request a partial, that can sting. To published writers, always conscious that they're only as good as their last sell-through numbers and ever-cognizant of the shrinking mid-list, that can sting.

Add to that the possibility of sudden, overwhelming riches with movie deals and merchandise tie-ins, and the green meter goes from the palest apple green to that of a sun-tanned Martian.

Let's face it. We've all done it. We're all human. We've all ground our teeth at a less-than-stellar book and thought, "WHY HER? WHY NOT ME?"

For one thing, it was her (or his) time.

Yes, that's a fatalistic view, but I sincerely believe in it. I've seen that the very best things in my life usually come after the longest dry/rainy spell (depending on how you look at bad luck). My most heart-felt wishes came to pass only after I'd truly given up ... a chance at a college education. The possibility of The Kiddo's adoption. My first book sale. I'm a Christian, so my theory is that God waits until we have our backs to the wall so that we're SURE that it's all Him and not anything to do with us.

For another thing? Being pea green with envy hurts only us.

Yeah. I said that. It doesn't put one less dollar in Mr. Best-Seller's bank account. But if I choose to grind my teeth over his success, I'm really just substituting excuses for effort. Pretty soon, if I've convinced myself that it's either blind luck or that all editors are interested in buying is whatever the hot genre is, then I'll give up on the book of my heart.

The cure? It's to realize that anger and bitterness and jealousy are really just mixed up expressions of fear and disappointment. Just like a toddler goes into melt-down mode and screams in rage when he's sick or hungry or hurt, we grown-ups do the same thing. We get all mixed up.

So let's use our words. Let's tell ourselves, "When I see Mr. Best Seller's books, I'm afraid that I'll never sell/never be as successful/never have as much money." When we define the problem -- or at least when I do -- then we can figure out what part of it we CAN control.

Query Recap & Query Announcement

I’m getting ready to close for queries for a time, and given the state of my inbox, I think it’s probably a good idea. At the time I sat down to do this recap I had over 500 unanswered queries to get to. There’s no doubt that once I reach the 400 mark I’m overwhelmed, so when answering these queries there wasn’t much of a system to my approach. I started with the newer queries because that gives me the opportunity to weed out the easy rejections, things like children’s books, unrequested attachments, and other types of submissions that are nowhere near the type of book I represent; from there I randomly went from query to query.

In 45 minutes, early one morning, here’s what I got through:

• Total Answered: 47
• Of those total number that were nonfiction (the rest were fiction): 11
• Total Rejected: 47
• Requested Partials: 0
• Number who attached the query instead of placing it in the body of the email: 1
• Rejections in which I supplied more detailed information of why I was rejecting: 11 (Note that the reasons for these are usually because there are obvious problems: the book is a novella, the author has no idea how to write a query, the author’s platform isn’t enough for the subject matter, etc.)
• Number of pre-queries: 1
• Number of queries with too many (one is usually too many) exclamation points: 2
• Letters deleted without being read: 2 (In one case it was because the author had submitted twice in a row, and yes, I realize this could have been computer/server error so I deleted one and responded to the other. In the other case the author’s query was obviously sent to 50+ agents).

Random thoughts:

• I get a lot of “pre-queries” asking if we accept international submissions. We do, but even if you aren’t sure, just query. Let us be so wowed by your book that even if we didn’t, we will now.
• I get a lot of submissions with fancy “letterhead”-looking paper. Made to look like a spiral notebook or resume paper. Don’t do this. It often makes the query hard to read. Remember the golden rule of queries: KISS—Keep It Simple Stupid (although I hate that word).
• I know I’ve said this before, but I think it bears repeating. I am not interested in what your novel does. I am only interested in what your book is. In other words, I don’t care what mysteries it explores or what it will teach readers. That’s nonfiction. No one picks up fiction because they want to be taught a lesson. They want to read a story. I also don’t care how your book is written (first person narrative, etc.). Again, I want the story.

When finished I still have 450+ queries in my inbox, the oldest dating back to June 16. As I mentioned, I am closing for queries as of Monday. In other words, this is the last weekend to get your query in before Labor Day. My plan is to reopen September 7. During this time I will work to catch up on all reading, which includes queries, proposals, client work, and some books that don’t have anything to do with work at all.

If you receive an offer from another agent or publisher between July 19 and September 6 and you want me to participate in that offer, please email me with the word “offer” in the subject line. Whatever you do, do not include “query” or “submission,” since those subjects will automatically be deleted. And don’t try to trick me by putting anything other than “query” or “submission” in an email query. I am not taking queries no matter how you try to get around the system.

Jessica

Oh, and one final word, five authors replied to my rejection letters. Most were to thank me, one was to supply information that wasn't included in the letter in the hopes of swaying me, and one was to tell me that it wasn't a query, just a note to ask if I wanted to see the proposal.


***Did you really think I would have only one final word? Silly people.

Janet Reid just posted an interesting blog asking readers their opinions of the practice of agents closing for submissions. If you have a moment pop on over and give your opinion. I did put something up myself, but if any of you are worried let me fill you in on a few things.

Anyone who queries during the time I'm "away" will receive an automatic reply letting them know that I am not accepting queries, that their query will be deleted, and asking them to resubmit in September. I'm very aware that being closed to queries might mean a few missed opportunities and for years I've been afraid to close for that very reason. The truth though is that I need a break. Summer is upon us and I would like the time to hit the pool with my family, lose myself in a good beach read and prepare my desk for a fresh start in September. I want to be enthusiastic about queries and new authors and sometimes the best way to do that is to reboot myself and take time to recharge. This is my time to recharge.

Someone on Janet's blog thought it was very European or very French. I like that. It means I can pretend I'm sitting on the Riveria instead of the concrete of my neighbor's pool.

An impossible choice

Later this month, a friend of mine is hosting a "Literary Ladies Night," a sort of show and tell where we bring our most favorite books and do the two-thumbs up deal. I am most excited about this.

Usually the extent of my evenings is rushing food from the fridge to the stove to the table, and then rushing The Husband and The Kiddo to the table to meet up with the food. Then comes the rushing of the dishes to the dishwasher (thank GOD for dishwashers), and the rushing of The Kiddo from the tub to the bed and convincing her that yes, three yawns in a row mean she really is sleepy. If we go out for entertainment, it's usually a kid's movie (The Husband suggested, for about 90 seconds, that we take The Kiddo to see Toy Story 3 for our anniversary. I think he got the picture. I'm not picky about anniversaries usually, but this IS our 20th one.)

So the idea of sitting around for a couple of hours, munching on food I didn't cook on dishes I won't have to wash and talking about books ... ah, bliss.

For all of about a nano-second. Then reality sets in. The price of admission to this Literary Ladies Night is one book -- one favorite book. I shall have to pluck, out of all the ones I have loved and sighed over, a single volume, preferably one that hasn't been discovered already by the other Literary Ladies.

I don't think I can do it. Books, for me anyway, speak different things on different days. Some days I'm in the mood for a fast-paced thriller. Other days, I want to dive into the thrill of romance in an epic love story. And others I want to laugh. So if you ask me, "What's your favorite book?" seven days running, you're likely to get seven different answers.

I'm not sure what book I'm going to recommend. The good thing is, even if all the also-rans go pouty and silent on me, whichever volume I choose, it's guaranteed to be a good one, because after four decades on this earth, I no longer force myself to finish truly bad books. (And yes, even though I am an author and I know how hard it is to craft those words, there are truly bad books out there.)

What about you? If you were going to a Literary Ladies Night, what book would you recommend?

Query Don'ts

While reading through some queries I very quickly developed a list of things that turn me off immediately. The book might be great, but these are signs that it’s a relationship that just won’t work:

• Don’t rant about how readers are no longer buying books in your particular genre because they all stink, but then tell me how you’re determined to change that. In case you’ve forgotten, I represent the authors you’ve just dissed.
• Don’t go on and on about your shortcomings. I don’t care that you’ve never been published before, that you have no real writing history, or that this is your first book. Of course, now that it’s all I know about you, I care.
• Don’t spend more time telling me every detail about how long it took you to write the book than you do telling me about the book itself. I don’t care, but now I worry that it will also take you six years to write your next book.
• I will not sign any sort of confidentiality clause, especially when you won’t even tell me what I’m signing it about.
• Don’t use the term “chick lit.” This term is dead and, at least at this time, is a turn-off to agents and editors.

Jessica

What seems easy to us ...

Yesterday, for a rather momentous occasion in my life, The Husband and The Kiddo conspired to make brownies.

The Husband cannot in any way, shape or form be considered a cook, or even a foodie. Bless his heart, pork skins or honey-buns are good eats to him. So it was understandable, as I prepared to leave for work yesterday morning, that he seemed consumed with knowing the right recipe for making brownies.

So I hauled out my two big fat cookbooks that are the staple of many a kitchen and laid their red plaid covers on my counters. "There, that's the easy recipe for brownies, and that's the one that takes the mixer," I told him.

Panic etched into his face. "Have we got all the stuff to make this?" he asked.

"Sure." I started dragging out the cocoa powder, which I use instead of baker's chocolate. "Er, you'll have to follow the directions here to make the equivalent of the baker's chocolate."

"You mean I have to cook that before I cook this?" he asked.

"You could pick up some baker's chocolate from the grocery store. But I usually use this because it's just as good."

"Okay," The Husband said doubtfully. "So you mix the cocoa powder and the butter -- does it come out in a hard block?"

"Uh, no. It looks like melted chocolate. You just add it to the flour."

The panicked look came back in full force. "Where's the flour?" he asked.

I pointed it out. "Well," I said, trying very hard to keep any trace of anything that could be misconstrued as judgment out of my voice, "there ARE mixes you can buy, where all you have to do is add an egg and some water and oil." When he looked crushed that I didn't have faith in him, I added, "But brownies are VERY hard to mess up. You really can't mess up a brownie."

Later that day, the texts I got from him:

"Where's the baking powder and the vanilla?" he asked first.

I texted back that our flour was self-rising, so no baking powder was needed. Then I gave him a mapquest version to find the vanilla lurking in our cabinets.

A few minutes later, he texted back, "Is it okay if I use vanilla EXTRACT?"

I texted back that vanilla extract was perfectly acceptable.

Then I got a weird question, something about did he have to mix the water with the chocolate. For the life of me, I couldn't understand that one, not until I got home and he pointed out the recipe. The directions had called for the baker's chocolate to be melted over hot water, but it didn't add anything about using a double-boiler.

The brownies smelled all chocolatey and wonderful when I walked in the door. They were dark and chewy, and boasted extra chocolate because The Kiddo had decided they needed chocolate chips in them.

The moral of the story? Never assume that things are easy.

I've been making brownies since I was a bit bigger than The Kiddo's age, and helping in the kitchen before that. I'd always assumed that anyone could follow a recipe, but recipes have every bit as much jargon as we writers do.

I've been writing since I was nine years old -- The Kiddo's age, in fact. For me, while stringing words together in a coherent novel can be tough, usually if all I need to do is dash off a letter or write a report, it's no problem. I have frequently found myself impatient with family members who beg me to write a letter.

For me, writing came so easy that I forgot how hard it was for most everyone else. By thinking it was easy, I was doing two things: 1) selling myself short, and 2) holding other people up to a standard I wouldn't want to be held to myself. My barely smothered scoff at the request of my Cum Laude graduate sister to write her a letter would be no different than if she scoffed at my reluctance to use power tools.

For The Husband, making those brownies from scratch was a hard and scary and intimidating thing to do. And let me tell you, I appreciate the effort from the very bottom of my heart.

Avery Aames on Perseverance

Avery Aames
The Long Quiche Goodbye
Publisher: Berkley Prime Crime
Pub date: June 2010
Agent: Kim Lionetti


(Click to Buy)


A Writer’s Journey: Say Cheese!


Getting published is hard work. It takes tenacity. It takes passion. It takes friends who won’t let you give up. J. A. Konrath says: "What do you call a writer with perseverance? PUBLISHED!"

Are you just about to give up? Don’t!

Over the course of fifteen years, I wrote a number of books, both traditional mystery and suspense thrillers. I submitted these books to agent after agent and received a number of comments, like “This is so close, but it’s just not for me.” [Sound familiar?]

Two years ago, when I was ready to give up, my critique partner, Krista Davis (who writes The Domestic Diva Mystery series), suggested I write to the market. "Cozies are selling," she said. With nothing to lose, I decided to give it a whirl.

But before I wrote another full book, I wanted to make sure that the cozy hook that I’d chosen was a good hook. I approached agent Jessica Faust at Bookends, whom I had met at a writers’ conference. She had given me encouragement on previous work. I asked if I could submit cozy ideas to her to see if they would fly with a publisher. She agreed. I submitted professionally crafted bibles [my bibles included sample chapters, an overview of the series, character sketches, and a basic outline], but none captured her fancy. After a few tries, we agreed that maybe we weren’t of like mind, so I asked if she’d be upset if I approached her fellow agent, Jacky Sach, whom I had also met at a conference. Jessica gave her blessing.

I approached Jacky with the same request. Jacky agreed. I tried three, but she didn’t think any would appeal to a publisher, so I tried three more. Mind you, each of these took me a while to write, and mind you, Jacky was such a good sport! Again, I received encouragement from Jacky, but none of the ideas were “just right.” Because I knew of people who had been “hired” to write books based on a bible created by the publisher, I asked Jacky if she would keep me in mind if she heard of an opportunity. [Note: I used to write in Hollywood. I created the format for a series on TV called Out of This World. I had no qualms about writing somebody else’s idea.] Jacky said she would.

I didn’t waste another moment thinking about the possibility, and I returned to what I had been writing before I changed track – a suspense thriller. Note: I was still considering giving up writing, but I hadn’t decided what I would do next with my life, and sitting on the couch day in, day out was out of the question (for me). I polished my new novel and started the quest again to find an agent who would think it was the most brilliant piece of writing ever. I received requests for full manuscripts and was feeling pretty sure that something was going to break for me this time . . . soon. [Perseverance requires that you see the rainbow behind the clouds!] At the same time, I took a cozy writing class and a suspense writing class. I polished new chapters and ideas through my critique group. And, yes, I had the occasional mini-pity party. [Note: Don’t let pity parties last longer than twenty-four hours. It takes grit to stop a pity party, but you can do it.]

And then one day, out of the blue, I received an email from Jacky. She had a work-for-hire possibility. Would I be interested in auditioning for A Cheese Shop Mystery series? Of course I would! A cheese shop sounded tasty, fun, and felt like a perfect fit for me. I loved to cook. I used to cater. I almost sold wine and The Cheese Shop, per the publisher’s bible, had a wine annex. Last but not least, the grandmother who raised the protagonist was a sassy character who managed the local theater. It just so happened that I had acted in local theaters and on television and in film.

To audition for the job, I was asked to provide three chapters. I set to work, researching, tasting, and writing. Working within the publisher’s parameters provided a freedom I’d never felt before. I was writing something that had a strong hook and was already “wanted” by the publisher. In a matter of weeks, I turned in the chapters.

But I didn’t kid myself that I would be hired. I’d been rejected before. So I returned to my regular job of writing the next book.

When I was offered a three-book deal, I just about fell off my chair. I was going to be published, writing something I truly enjoyed!

In the future, I hope to sell one of my own stories, but for now, I write as Avery Aames, author of A Cheese Shop Mystery series for Berkley Prime Crime, and I’m thrilled and proud.

My advice: If opportunity knocks on your door, open it and: Say Cheese!

*

Avery Aames, the author of A Cheese Shop Mystery series for Berkley Prime Crime, is the pseudonym for Daryl Wood Gerber. Daryl created the format for the popular sitcom Out of This World and has won awards for her screenplays. She also writes short stories and suspense novels. Both Avery and Daryl like to read, cook, garden, and do amateur photography. Avery blogs at Mystery Lovers Kitchen, www.mysteryloverskitchen, a blog for foodies who love mysteries, as well as at Killer Characters, www.killercharacters.com. You can visit Avery at www.averyaames.com.

Because girls are worth power tools

I have spent 20 years trying to gift The Husband with power tools that he doesn't want to have and most certainly doesn't want to use. I have done this in the sneaky, indirect attempt to get what I want: a finished Honey-Do list.

Well, ladies (and gents), it's so not working.

When The Sister came and helped me paint my kitchen (before The Flood), she brought along her automatic battery powered screwdriver. Before that, when we were doing the refacing part of the project, she brought along her pneumatic brad gun.

I was terrified of the brad gun, and only slightly less intimidated at the prospect of using the battery-powered screwdriver. That's funny, really, because I grew up with a mom who did not move furniture around walls ... she moved walls around furniture.

But I was the littlest, and the baby, and everybody worried that I wasn't strong enough, and so I was given the all important job of fetching jugs of ice water and tea and lemonade.

After 20 years of THAT, I can fetch you a brilliant glass of lemonade, yes, ma'am. Power tools? Eh, not so much.

While we were putting on the hinges for the doors, The Sister handed The Kiddo the battery powered screwdriver and said, "Go to it, girlie." I looked on in horror, because of course The Sister doesn't have small fry of her own (just 30 kids that she teaches during the school year), so she wouldn't know that it was a Bad Idea To Give The Kiddo A Power Tool.

But then I thought, "Self, you have taught The Kiddo how to use your santoku knife to chop veggies, so maybe The Sister isn't so crazy."

The Sister wasn't so crazy.


(The Kiddo using a power drill on her SECOND project -- a kitchen that's not mine!)

It was a humbling experience, seeing The Kiddo tackle something that intimidated me. But it was also liberating. If a nine-year-old kid could do it, then surely I could tackle my fears of power tools and that Honey-Do list on my own.

Then my dad let me borrow his shop vac to suck up the water during The Flood, and I was hooked. I'd never bought The Husband a shop vac, because he wouldn't have appreciated it, and honestly, I couldn't think of why I'd benefit from one.

Not so. Tawna Fenske's Pythagoras has the right idea. That little sucker is handy. It was after I'd zapped all the cobwebs off my ceiling fan blades AND vacuumed out my garage AND vacuumed out my car that I realized the ultimate truth:

Girls are worth power tools.

Now how is this connected to writing? Bear with me. You know that computer you've been limping along with, the one that still runs Windows 98 and has the browser you can't upgrade? You're worth a new one. You know how you've been putting off moving from dial-up to DSL or buying that new modem? You're worth it. That printer you want to throw out in the street? Order a new one and condemn the old one to the recycle bin. You're worth it.

You know that Honey-Do list you've been nagging Hubby about? Grab that power drill and learn how to use it. What's the worst that could happen? (OK, I'm a writer, so we really don't want me thinking about the worst because I'll come up with a humdinger, so let's rephrase that -- what is most likely going to happen?)

Archimedes said that given the right lever, and a place to stand, he could move the earth. Well, I'm here to tell you, Archimedes knew a thing or two about how much more efficient we could be if we just had the proper tools to work with. And he would have LOVED power tools.

LOL

Another fun round of things that make us laugh in the office.

After querying Kim and getting a message (I suspect) that she’s not accepting queries, the author simply forwarded the entire email to me, “Dear Ms. Lionetti” and all.

As per our guidelines we don’t accept unrequested attachments. In other words, we prefer the query to be in the body of the email, and if we request the material we’ll ask for it to be attached. Of course there are times when authors miss this, so I will reply with an email explaining the procedure and reminding authors that most agents don’t accept attachments and that reviewing guidelines before submitting is helpful. In response to one of these emails I received this, and trust me, with an email like this there is nothing you can do but laugh. Oh, and by the way, the expletives were modified by me, not by the author.

I suggest you open the attachments that are sent to you. Then you won't miss great material from great authors!!!

This message means (F**k You!) Maybe you can read that since it's some of my best writing! (emphasis added!)

Well it's not in the attachment... You did not ask for this either!!! It makes me feel better to express my thoughts and use some Freedom of Speech!

I'm sure many writer's want to say it! While you're at it kiss my a** also!!! Take as long as you need to for that!!!

I take the road that is less traveled by!!!!

I suppose I should be flattered by this response to a rejection:

I'm not too surprised at your lack of interest in my manuscript. I believe you to be "much too young" to grasp the full meaning, let alone the appreciation of the time and the setting for which this story took place in

This one should really be a ROFL. It’s a follow-up to a query:

DEAR JESSICA - I SEEM NOT TO HAVE A REPLY TO MY EMAIL OF YESTERDAY - ?

Jessica

The Yin and the Yang

My critique partner Tawna Fenske and I are taking part in Candace Ganger's "I Helped Bring Joy" auction, which is raising money to empower the girls and women of Ghana by generating microloans. We're donating a unique critique prize ... wherein you get not one but two crits of a partial.

It was Tawna's idea, but I think it's a great one ... and I'm really glad she suggested it. The two of us "met" on the eHarlequin forums about six years ago when we both thought for about 90 seconds that we'd be editor-sistahs. While that didn't come to pass, I found Tawna's honest, thoughtful critiques to be a wonderful treasure, and her wonderful, infectious zeal for life even more so.

We are so different, she and I. She is a West Coast dedicated recycler/nature-lover/world-traveler with no kids, and I am a South Georgia mom who knew all 99 different rules and rituals regarding the proper funeral. She loves wine-tastings and a risque joke, and I am a Baptist tee-totaler. She had no idea what salad cubes were, and I was just as lost when it came to couscous and quinoa. She is a pantser, and I'm so OCD that I plot EVERYTHING.

But at the same time, we are peas in a pod. Both of us love animals. Both of us see human beings' differences as something to embrace rather than to be feared. Both of us would go crazy if we didn't write. Both of us love a good story. Both of us hate Too Stupid To Live heroines. Tawna is probably the one other person besides my sister that I would call at two in the morning -- unless I was in jail, at which point I'd call Linda Grimes so that she could see, lo, how the mighty have fallen and capture all on video for YouTube. (Easy, Linda, that just ain't gonna happen.)

Over the years, I've taught Tawna how to make grits, fried chicken and corn bread, and she's turned me into a person who takes my own bags to the grocery store and cooks quinoa and couscous. As far as writing, she's taught me how to use my entire arsenal of the five senses in setting scenes and how to create stronger, more admirable heroines. Honestly, she didn't need any improving as far as writing, so I can't say what I've taught her, except that plotting isn't a curse word, and that you don't have to hiss when uttering the word "synopsis."

So when you get the Dynamic Duo critiquing your work, you get the Yin and the Yang, the classic East Coast and West Coast. You get the benefit of what we've taught each other as we've grown in that six years as writers.

Plus, you get to help women and girls who have never, and will never again, have a chance to chase their dreams and shape their destiny -- and I always say that if you want something done right, put a woman in charge, so your winning bid might well be the tipping point that turns Ghana around. Okay, okay, so I indulge in hyperbole. Sue me. I'm a writer.

But seriously, you want this. You really, really want this. So what are you waiting for? Go explore some more on Candace Ganger's blog.

Where Do You Get Ideas

This might seem like a silly question but is it ok to use a news story for the basis of a novel? The story in question is about 3 particular non-celebrity teenagers. I'm fascinated by what happened and would like to write a fictional account of the events that might have led to the incident but I don't want to infringe on anyone's rights obviously.

Never a silly question! There are no silly questions, just questions that aggravate me. This, however, is not a question that aggravates me. It’s a great question.

You can get your ideas from anywhere you want. I think news stories are probably the basis of more novels than I can count, just like other novels are the basis for novels. As are music lyrics, actual life events, dreams, brilliant agents, and your mom’s bedtime stories.

To be honest with you, when it comes to a great idea, it’s not the idea or where it came from that really matters, it’s what you do with it. I wish I knew how many times I read an article, saw a news story or read a book and had an “aha” moment. Ask my authors. I’m regularly taking notes on “brilliant” (I use that word loosely) ideas and shipping them off to my clients for execution.

Being fascinated is the first step to creating a great story. As long as you’re not using actual names, details, etc. In other words, as long as you’re fictionalizing the story you can do whatever you want with it. That’s the beauty of fiction.

Jessica

No green thumbs, not even out of a bottle

First off, thanks for so much warm support on Friday's post. Every comment lifted my spirits. I try not to be a downer, and I don't intend for my blog audience to be the recipient of all my moans and groans. Thanks for being there.

It's a definite sign that plants rightfully fear me.

I'm not so good with green and growing things. Either I get too much water on them or not enough, so usually I stick with the silk versions.

However, you can't slice and eat a silk tomato, or chop up silk basil and oregano. So this spring, I decided that I would plant three tomato plants, two pepper plants, and add to a window box of oregano I hadn't managed to kill last year. They reside on my back deck, save for one of the tomato plants, which is one of those Topsy Turvy planters I had to have after I saw it on TV. Why, yes, I am the living incarnate definition of gullible.

My plants have managed to limp along, and I've even gotten two knotty little ripe tomatoes from them. But no one could mistake my horticultural efforts for a green thumb.

Saturday morning, I found the whole passel of 'em wilted beyond belief, practically coding on the table. I rushed water to them, hoping I wasn't too late.

Off I went to town, for shopping, which included buying two cans of hunter green spray paint to resuscitate a patio furniture set I'd inherited from my mom.

It's a overgrown bistro set, one that my mom had since I was probably The Kiddo's age. Back when she bought it, she paid the earth for it, and I thought it was so cute in its black wrought iron state. It was Mama's pride and joy.

Over the years, Mama repainted it white to match with the changing styles. But as she grew older -- and sicker -- the thing rusted away in her back yard. I’d no idea how rusty it was, or how much it needed a face-lift, until The Sister and I were examining it.

The Sister suggested that, since it was small, it would be perfect for my back deck. We loaded the set up on her truck and hauled it to my house. Saturday was The Day that it was supposed to be turned from rusty white/black to a more stylish hunter green.

The Kiddo and I scrubbed away the biggest pocks of rust, sanded off the legs and seats until they felt fairly smooth. I kept thinking about Mama, and how I should have done this chore for her while she was still alive. The sanding finished, we dragged the chairs out onto the grass and I took the spray cans to them.

It took a lot more paint than I'd bargained for to cover the chairs. Two cans later, I still had some white spots and black spots and rusty spots shining.

Midway through, The Kiddo observed, "Hey, Mommy! You've got paint on your fingers!"

Sure enough, green speckles covered one hand. I suspected that I had green paint on other skin surfaces as well. As we inspected my hands, The Kiddo brightened. "Hey! Maybe this is how you can get a green thumb!"

But we looked closer, turning both of my thumbs this way and that. Alas ... not one fleck of green paint had landed on either of my thumbs.

The Kiddo gave me a sympathetic look, shook her head, and said, "Or ... maybe not?"

I nodded. "Or maybe not."