Category Archives: Michelle Gagnon

Tag Line Haiku

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by Michelle Gagnon

Ah, the tagline…how I love it. For those of you who don’t know, a tagline is that little nugget on a book cover (or movie poster) that serves as a branding slogan, that memorable phrase that persuades you to buy the book (or purchase a ticket to the movie). The following are a few of the most  famous cinematic taglines:

  • “In space, no one can hear you scream.” -Alien
  • “Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water.” Jaws 2
  • “There can be only be one. -Highlander
  • “One ring to rule them all.” -The Lord of the Rings 
  • “The truth is out there.” – The X-Files 

One thing most people don’t know is that authors rarely get to choose their own taglines. So far, my books have been graced with the taglines, “Anyone can end up in the…BONEYARD,” and “We are our greatest enemy.” (THE GATEKEEPER). My latest release, DON’T TURN AROUND, actually had the tagline changed once some of the top buyers weighed in on it; we ended up with, “Off the grid/On the run” (which I love).


It struck me, as I recently perused the vast array of titles at my favorite independent bookstore, that there’s a game in here somewhere. A way, if you will, to combine two of my favorite things: taglines and haikus. And you’re all invited to participate.


Just so we all understand the rules: a haiku is, according to the standard definition, “A Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five.”


For the sake of simplicity, feel free to combine book tag lines with film tag lines, if they seem to belong together. But make sure to attribute the tags to the appropriate sources.


I’ll be composing my haiku with a nod to some of my favorite titles (I excerpted the first part of the tagline when necessary; feel free to do the same).
Have fun, I can’t wait to see what you all come up with!

Past evil still lives.  
Beauty is only sin deep. 
Everything ends here.  

(Respectively, Heather Graham, THE UNHOLY; Ken Bruen and Jason Starr, SLIDE; and Patrick Lee, DEEP SKY.)

On a side note, if you’ll permit a digression: my publisher is currently giving away galleys of my upcoming release, DON’T TURN AROUND. There are a few different ways to enter, and each only takes a few minutes. 


On Twitter, just retweet this:
@EpicReads Off the grid. On the run. DON’T TURN AROUND by @michelle_gagnon http://vsb.li/zJ3A8c RT for a chance to win!

On Facebook, Like this page.

And/or on Goodreads, Click here to enter.

Feel free to forward to anyone who might want a free book!

Setting the Stage: A Writing Exercise

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by Michelle Gagnon

For a change of pace today, I thought we could tackle a writing exercise. One of the things that’s struck me during our critiques lately is that I’m not alone in sometimes neglecting to include enough descriptive prose to set the stage for my stories. In fact it’s such a weakness of mine, I rarely add much detail in first drafts. I get the plot and dialogue in place, then go back during the editing process to flesh everything out. In all honesty, scenery description is my least favorite part of the craft of writing. 

For one, remembering to include all five senses is always a struggle; I have a terrible sense of smell, and have to remind myself that my characters might not. Also, describing anything from a basic room to a crowd scene is rife with pitfalls; there isn’t a writer alive who hasn’t caught themselves typing out a trite cliche about the shape of the moon, or something similar.


So when my book is set somewhere specific, I rely heavily on photographs. The corkboard behind my desk is always layered with photos representing nearly every scene in the manuscript. I find that looking at them triggers sense memories, especially if I’m writing about somewhere I’ve been. I remember how streets in Paris are always wet in the morning, having been freshly washed by maintenance crews just before dawn. Or how the light in Central Park shifts dramatically season by season, or how the air in South America just tastes different (maybe my sense of taste is stronger, to compensate for that lack of smell).


Below I’ve pasted three photos. Pick any one and describe it in a paragraph, or use it as the jumping off point for a scene. Take care to avoid overused metaphors: “The sea was dark as slate,” for example, or, “The sky was as blue as a robin’s egg.” 


Bonne chance!

First Page Critique: DON’T SAY A WORD

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by Michelle Gagnon

Today’s first page critique submission is entitled, DON’T SAY A WORD. As Joe said yesterday, we’re accepting 350 words max of works in progress. We aim to provide an overall assessment of the work based on what we’ve learned through our own publishing experiences. We hope it will be helpful not just to the author of each work, but to all of our readers.

DON’T SAY A WORD

“All right, Marconni, see Valentino. There. Mickey’s the one in the red silk,” I said, pointing to the three gang members of the Valentino family gathered in the New York City Italian restaurant.

Assistant FBI Director John Marconni drew in a deep breath as we watched the surveillance feed. The lights inside glowed dim, and the closed sign appeared in the window with the red checkered curtains two hours ago. The last public patrons were long gone.

“They won’t be there long. Valentino doesn’t socialize well,” I said, running a hand over my neck, massaging the tight muscles.

Marconni nodded. “He’s not slipping out this time, Aiello.”

“You won’t take him alive,” I said, shaking my head, “he’ll never testify.”

I grimaced and felt adrenaline pumping into my system. At least at this hour, whatever went down, no more civilians would die at Valentino’s hands.

Marconni raised his hand and spoke into the mike. “Hold, Team one. Eyes open, Team two!”

I saw it.

Movement on the street caused Marconni’s hesitation.
A figure appeared out of the shadows and walked toward the restaurant. A woman, dressed to the nines, clingy red scrap-of-a-dress, four inch heels, body to die for. Long brown tresses cascaded to her waist. She fished in her purse for something.

“We got her, boss. She’s going in. Team two, hold position. We got a renegade on approach.”

My heart slammed into my chest.

She inserted keys into the lock and for a fraction of a second, as she opened the door to the Valentino hideout, the dim lights inside illuminated her face.

“You seeing this, Tony?” Marconni asked.

“I see it,” I growled, the recognition flooding into me, twisting my gut.

I watched as the woman walked over to Mickey Valentino. He pulled her into his arms and they embraced. Kissed. His hands roamed all over her, and I watched with revulsion as she responded to him.

“We gotta go in, Tony. I’m sorry,” Marconni whispered where only I could hear. Then he spoke into his mike, “Go, Team Two. Take ‘em alive. All of them.”

As an opening page, I really enjoyed this submission. The author does a good job of dropping the reader into the middle of a scene without an inordinate amount of exposition. The stage is set nicely for whatever is about to transpire.

I do wish that I was given a better sense of where the narrator is vis a vis the action; is he in a van? I assumed so, based on the surveillance feed line, but a single sentence of clarification would be helpful. What does it smell like inside the van? Maybe it reeks of take out, since they’ve been there for awhile. Perhaps our narrator is hungry, since he’s been stuck there for hours. Also a few lines about the restaurant, and/or the surrounding area. Is there anyone else outside? Is it summer, spring, fall? This is another opportunity to provide a few key details that really set the stage. I understand that it’s late; can he hear garbage trucks collecting trash from dumpsters? A few cabs sliding past on the nearly empty streets? Are homeless people dozing in nearby doorways?

And what does Marconni look like? Is he in a sharp or rumpled suit? Old, or young? Again, just adding in a sentence here or there to build a sense of what the characters look like and what they’re feeling would be helpful.

There’s a nice noir feel to this piece, and I think it would be great to expand on it a bit. But some of the phrasing is a bit trite: grimacing, heart slamming into my chest, adrenaline pumping into my system. These are all nice and descriptive, but a bit overused. I would aim for more subtlety, and coming up with a way to illustrate these sensations that is more original.

All in all, I would definitely keep reading. I’m curious to find out what the narrator’s relationship is to this woman, and to discover what’s about to happen in the restaurant. Well done.

Oh, Sweet Irony

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by Michelle Gagnon

I suppose it was inevitable once Amazon started their own publishing wing. A company that was founded on the premise that you need never set foot in a bookstore again (which expanded to never setting foot in any store, for many) has started opening…wait for it…stores. They’re sussing out their first bricks & mortar location in Seattle, where their corporate headquarters is located.
Mind you, this won’t really be a bookstore; apparently the focus will be on pricier items such as tablet computers (and, I’m guessing, their rapidly expanding Kindle line).

It’s an astonishing reversal for the company that insures there’s a UPS driver coming down my street every day, sometimes even multiple times a day.

Mind you, I don’t intend to launch a bout of Amazon bashing here–I’m as guilty as my neighbors when it comes to online ordering. I signed up to have kitty litter, toilet paper, and coconut water shipped to my door every month once I realized that it was cheaper than buying those items in the supermarket. I did the vast majority of my Christmas shopping online this year, a significant chunk of it while getting my hair cut, which is a far cry from past Decembers when I drove from store to store trying to cross everyone off my list. And most importantly for me as a writer, thanks to Amazon I consistently sell backlist copies of books that vanished from store shelves years ago.

So I’m definitely no Amazon hater. And once Barnes & Noble, Books a Million, and other stores issued statements declaring that they would (understandably) refuse to stock titles from Amazon’s new publishing imprint, launching their own physical retail wing made sense.

Still, it is ironic, isn’t it? When companies like Amazon first arrived on the scene in the heady days of the dotcom boom, they loftily promised that within a decade, no one would have to leave their house for anything (fantastic news for agoraphobes; maybe not so great for the rest of us). Websites would sell everything from beds to orange juice to mouthwash and deliver it to your front door, all for less than you’d pay in a store since the overhead of rent, utilities, and payroll would be largely removed from the equation.

And lo and behold, here we are a little more than a decade later, and they were largely right. Except that there no longer are a slew of websites providing the online equivalent of roaming from store to store: instead it’s a one-stop shopping experience. Amazon has become a behemoth, the place where you can buy pretty much anything you desire and have it delivered to your front door, usually within two days. And now, after driving so many mom and pop stores out of existence, they’re backtracking and opening a place where you can get the personal touch; one-on-one interaction with a sales staff.

I have very mixed feelings about all of this. For one thing, the tech boom has spawned a modern day equivalent of the types of monopolies that held the nation at their mercy around the turn of the last century, with Amazon and Microsoft replacing Standard Oil and U.S. Steel. In some regards, aren’t Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg contemporary robber barons?

And now that so many stores that I loved have shuttered, it seems unseemly that the company that helped drive them out of existence is stepping in and taking over the shelf space they helped destroy. (For the record, I buy all of my physical books in bookstores, and I still buy as many as I did before I got my Kindle. I’ve actually found that having an eReader has increased my weekly book consumption).

But I’m also guilty of getting those deliveries every month, of using them to make my holiday shopping easier; and I’ve received the gains in sales that wouldn’t have been possible if my books were only available in print. And I have many friends whose contracts weren’t renewed, but managed to continue publishing their books independently thanks to Amazon, an outlet that wouldn’t have been available to them otherwise.
So I’m curious; what do you all think about Amazon’s latest move?

Oh, Sweet Irony

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by Michelle Gagnon

I suppose it was inevitable once Amazon started their own publishing wing. A company that was founded on the premise that you need never set foot in a bookstore again (which expanded to never setting foot in any store, for many) has started opening…wait for it…stores. They’re sussing out their first bricks & mortar location in Seattle, where their corporate headquarters is located.
Mind you, this won’t really be a bookstore; apparently the focus will be on pricier items such as tablet computers (and, I’m guessing, their rapidly expanding Kindle line).

It’s an astonishing reversal for the company that insures there’s a UPS driver coming down my street every day, sometimes even multiple times a day.

Mind you, I don’t intend to launch a bout of Amazon bashing here–I’m as guilty as my neighbors when it comes to online ordering. I signed up to have kitty litter, toilet paper, and coconut water shipped to my door every month once I realized that it was cheaper than buying those items in the supermarket. I did the vast majority of my Christmas shopping online this year, a significant chunk of it while getting my hair cut, which is a far cry from past Decembers when I drove from store to store trying to cross everyone off my list. And most importantly for me as a writer, thanks to Amazon I consistently sell backlist copies of books that vanished from store shelves years ago.

So I’m definitely no Amazon hater. And once Barnes & Noble, Books a Million, and other stores issued statements declaring that they would (understandably) refuse to stock titles from Amazon’s new publishing imprint, launching their own physical retail wing made sense.

Still, it is ironic, isn’t it? When companies like Amazon first arrived on the scene in the heady days of the dotcom boom, they loftily promised that within a decade, no one would have to leave their house for anything (fantastic news for agoraphobes; maybe not so great for the rest of us). Websites would sell everything from beds to orange juice to mouthwash and deliver it to your front door, all for less than you’d pay in a store since the overhead of rent, utilities, and payroll would be largely removed from the equation.

And lo and behold, here we are a little more than a decade later, and they were largely right. Except that there no longer are a slew of websites providing the online equivalent of roaming from store to store: instead it’s a one-stop shopping experience. Amazon has become a behemoth, the place where you can buy pretty much anything you desire and have it delivered to your front door, usually within two days. And now, after driving so many mom and pop stores out of existence, they’re backtracking and opening a place where you can get the personal touch; one-on-one interaction with a sales staff.

I have very mixed feelings about all of this. For one thing, the tech boom has spawned a modern day equivalent of the types of monopolies that held the nation at their mercy around the turn of the last century, with Amazon and Microsoft replacing Standard Oil and U.S. Steel. In some regards, aren’t Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg contemporary robber barons?

And now that so many stores that I loved have shuttered, it seems unseemly that the company that helped drive them out of existence is stepping in and taking over the shelf space they helped destroy. (For the record, I buy all of my physical books in bookstores, and I still buy as many as I did before I got my Kindle. I’ve actually found that having an eReader has increased my weekly book consumption).

But I’m also guilty of getting those deliveries every month, of using them to make my holiday shopping easier; and I’ve received the gains in sales that wouldn’t have been possible if my books were only available in print. And I have many friends whose contracts weren’t renewed, but managed to continue publishing their books independently thanks to Amazon, an outlet that wouldn’t have been available to them otherwise.
So I’m curious; what do you all think about Amazon’s latest move?

Writing Exercise: Six Word Memoir

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by Michelle Gagnon

Hemingway was once famously challenged to write a short story in six words or less, and he came up with, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Kind of the perfect story- so much there, yet so much left unsaid. It leaves you wondering and wanting more.

Smith Magazine launched a six word memoir contest awhile back, inviting people to submit the story of their life with extreme brevity. It was so successful that they produced a book with submissions from a wide variety of authors both famous and obscure, including Amy Sedaris (Mushrooms. Clowns. Wands. Five. Wig. Thatched), Sebastian Junger (I asked. They answered. I wrote), and Po Bronson (Stole wife. Lost friends. Now happy).

Today, I challenge you to do the same. Here are some of my favorites, culled from their ongoing blog:

  • “More fun since moral compass broke.”
  • “Write about sex, learn about love.”
  • “I thought that I’d be taller.”
  • “Committed voluntarily, until tried to leave.”
  • “Asked to quiet down. Spoke louder.”

And here’s mine, always a work in progress:

“Loved and lost and loved again.”

So what’s your life been like, in a sextuplet?

Writing Exercise: Six Word Memoir

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by Michelle Gagnon

Hemingway was once famously challenged to write a short story in six words or less, and he came up with, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Kind of the perfect story- so much there, yet so much left unsaid. It leaves you wondering and wanting more.

Smith Magazine launched a six word memoir contest awhile back, inviting people to submit the story of their life with extreme brevity. It was so successful that they produced a book with submissions from a wide variety of authors both famous and obscure, including Amy Sedaris (Mushrooms. Clowns. Wands. Five. Wig. Thatched), Sebastian Junger (I asked. They answered. I wrote), and Po Bronson (Stole wife. Lost friends. Now happy).

Today, I challenge you to do the same. Here are some of my favorites, culled from their ongoing blog:

  • “More fun since moral compass broke.”
  • “Write about sex, learn about love.”
  • “I thought that I’d be taller.”
  • “Committed voluntarily, until tried to leave.”
  • “Asked to quiet down. Spoke louder.”

And here’s mine, always a work in progress:

“Loved and lost and loved again.”

So what’s your life been like, in a sextuplet?

Handling the Crush

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by Michelle Gagnon

I’ll be keeping this short and sweet today, because as you can probably tell by the title of my post, I’m feeling overwhelmed. In fact, I had to drag myself away from the paper bag I was busy hyperventilating in to compose this post.

I finished a book yesterday, only to find out that the deadline for the next one is just a few months away. And I have yet to write the first page of that one (argh!)

Somewhere in there are two week-long school vacations and a slew of long weekends, plus the editing of the book I just turned in (which I suspect-no, know-will require a major overhaul), plus the line edits of a third book.

I realize that this might come across as ungrateful. Believe me when I say that I am incredibly thankful to be under contract at the moment, when so many other people are having a tough time. A year ago, I was worried about selling one more book, and I ended up with two contracts for four. So this is a classic example of be careful what you wish for. Because now, I’m utterly swamped.

On top of everything else, chances are that I’ll be selling my house, finding a new place to live, and moving there in the same four month time period. With a five year-old and a cantankerous cat (and of course, said cat makes finding a pet-friendly place in San Francisco even more of a challenge).

So I’m actively soliciting advice on how to manage all this without losing my proverbial marbles.
My question to you all is…how do you handle it when life comes at you all at once?

Mortification, in the First Person

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by Michelle Gagnon

One of my all-time favorite books (and a popular gift for friends who write) is called, MORTIFICATION: WRITERS’ STORIES OF THEIR PUBLIC SHAME.

It includes vignettes from such storied authors as Roddy Doyle, Michael Ondaatje, and Val McDermid on the most embarrassing experiences they’ve ever had during their writing careers. For example, did you know that Margaret Atwood’s first-ever book signing took place in the Men’s Socks and Underwear section of a department store? Or that some of Chuck Palahniuk’s fans started throwing dinner rolls at him during an event in San Francisco? And apparently Stephen King was once forced to sign so many books that his fingers cracked and started to bleed.

Up until last October, my most mortifying moment as an author occurred at a local bookstore, when not a single person showed up for my reading.

And then along came Litquake.

Litquake is San Francisco’s premier literary festival, a week-long celebration of the written word that features hundreds of authors reading at dozens of events. More than 16,000 people attended last year. Being asked to participate is a big deal, particularly for one of the most coveted spots.
And for the 2011 series, I was included in a great one, entitled, “These Mean Streets: Reality and Fiction Collide.”
I was the only woman appearing on a slate with a former mob informant; the terrific writer, working PI, and all around great writer David Corbett; and a slew of other big names. The event was being held at Tosca Cafe, one of my favorite bars in San Francisco.

All in all, it was shaping up to be an exciting evening. Thanks largely to the fact that the event would be happening in a bar, I even managed to convince several friends who don’t ordinarily attend readings to come along.

You can never predict how big the crowd will be at one of these events, but that night, Tosca was packed. Standing room only, easily a couple hundred people in the room.

I was nervous, and hadn’t slept terribly well the night before. Too nervous to eat very much all day, in fact. So I did what any sane person would do–I drank a glass of wine to calm myself down.
I was scheduled to be the third reader of the evening. I sat through the first two, my mouth dry, palms slick with sweat, tapping the pages of my chapter on the table (to the growing irritation of my friends).

And then, it was my turn.

I’ve performed in hundreds of dance performances, and have participated in dozens of author events over the past few years. One thing I know: the minute I get up there, the nervousness dissipates and I’m fine.
So there I was, standing in front of a microphone with a spotlight bearing down on me, facing this hot, crowded room.

Initially, everything was clipping along just fine. I read the first few pages of my chapter, and the crowd seemed appreciative–at least, no one was heckling or throwing things at me.

In the middle of page five, the words started swimming before my eyes. I paused and tried hard to force them back into focus. They refused to cooperate. I realized that for the space of at least a minute, I hadn’t said anything. Panicking, I tried to collect myself. I stood up tall, found my place, and got through another paragraph.

I’ve never fainted before in my life–never even came close. But next thing I know, I’m lying on my back with a total stranger inches from my face, yelling, “Were you locking out your knees?”

Which even in retrospect doesn’t seem to be the first thing you should ask someone who has just passed out cold.

Thankfully, there was an open booth behind me. According to my friends (who delighted in detailing the exact order of events after I’d recovered slightly), I said, “I’m dizzy,” then sat down hard in the booth behind me. After which I proceeded to plummet ungracefully into the lap of the woman occupying the banquette (featured in the photo above, right before we became much better acquainted).
And of course, this was the one and only time that I’d decided to wear a dress for a reading. Meaning that I pretty much flashed the entire audience. Thank God I was wearing tights.

My friends helped me outside and plied me with glasses of water and relatively fresh air (there were a lot of smokers around). Strangers came out to check on me. The rest of the reading proceeded inside; sadly, I missed most of it. As a favor, the event organizers let me get up and finish my story at the very end of the evening.

A week later, during the closing party, Litquake impresario Jack Boulware informed me that they’ve never had an author faint before–apparently it was the talk of the organizing committee. So much so that they’re debating naming an honorary award after me next year. Word is still out on whether it will be bestowed for passing out or remaining conscious.

So now, should the editors of MORTIFICATION ever contact me, I can assuredly put Stephen King’s most embarrassing moment to shame.

I’d love to hear about your most mortifying experience, either during and event or really, at any point in your life. Please. It will make me feel better.

Happy Holidays!

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[image4.png]It’s Winter break here at the Kill Zone. During our 2-week hiatus, we’ll be spending time with our families and friends, and celebrating all the traditions that make this time of year so wonderful. We sincerely thank you for visiting our blog and commenting on our rants and raves. We wish you a truly blessed Holiday Season and a prosperous 2012. From Clare, Kathryn, Kathleen, Joe M., Nancy, Michelle, Jordan, John G., Joe H., John M., and James to all our friends and visitors, Seasons Greeting from the Kill Zone.
See you back here on Monday, January 2.