Ringggg!

Actually, it was more of a buzz in my back pocket that at first made me think my leg was going to sleep. I didn’t recognize the number on the screen, but that day I was in a mood.

“What?”

“Uh, well, hello. Is iss Rabees?” His accent was so thick I could barely understand the words. I’ll let you select the suitable accent as we progress.

“How can I help you?”

“This is Jake–––.”

“From State Farm?”

“What. No.” I could tell he was going back to his script. “This is Jake–––.”

“Jake who?”

“Uh, This is Jake Wilson and I’m calling about your recent publication, The Broken Truth…A Novel.”

“That’s The Broken Truth. The word novel isn’t part of the title.”

A loooonggggg pause.

“Are you there, Jake?”

“Yes, it is I. One of our scouts––––.”

“Crockett or Boone.”

“Excuse me. This is Jake.”

“Forgive me Jake, neither of those guys were scouts, but Kit Carson was.”

“Um. One of our scouts came across your book, The Broken Truth–––.”

“Don’t say the novel part.”

“Um.” Back to the script. “One of our book scouts came across your book (he almost said it again) and recommended it to us. Your book is cinematic in scope–––.”

“Thank you for that. I was my intention. I write as if I’m seeing a movie and try to bring that to my pages.”

“Yes. Thank you. Your book is cinematic in scope, and we feel that it is a perfect candidate for inclusion between you and Lions Gate–––.” He said it as two distinct words.

“Thanks, but you’ll have to talk with my agent.”

“Agent?”

“Literary agent.”

“You have a literary agent?” I imagined him flipping through pages on his computer, looking for that thread.

“You didn’t think I had one, did you? Miss that one in training?”

“Does this agent receive money–––“

“Money comes in. It doesn’t go out, that’s a true and honest statement, and you’re likely going to ask me for some type of payment for this remarkable opportunity How much?”

“Well, we have several levels.”

“Figured. Adios.”

*

There are many times I don’t want to answer, or fool with those bottom feeders. Here are a few voicemails I held onto for this enlightening occasion. Mistakes included.

“Bro truth Brew truth, Redis, your boo came highly recommended and we’re truly impressed by a cinematic potential. We’d love to explore a collaboration by connecting you directly with movie producers or directors either in person or via (who uses that word while speaking) Zoom to discuss the exciting possibility of adapting your story into the feature film or TV series.”

That one was from Nebraska. I wish I’d answered to get the caller to describe the town and where his office was located. If you don’t know, these scam artists bounce the calls around the country to make you think they’re legitimate and not from some unairconditioned warehouse far, far away.

How about this one allegedly from Fresno, California. Transcribed and somewhat translated. “Hi, Revis, is Roland from Lion Leash, I am a TV coordinator for Spotlight network, I am calling to extend an invitation for Emmy Award-winning director Logan Crawford would like to showcase your book. I am a TV coordinator. I’m reaching out regarding your book. Please call me back at 599-60….”

This one’s a favorite from Winfield, MO. “Hi, Ribs, my name is Johnester, and I’m calling for Ribs. (He was kinda making me hungry) Ribs Withem, and the reason I’m calling is I want to verify if you’re the author of The Texas Joe. If you are the author, please call me back at this number because your book caught our attention and I’d love the chance to speak with you shortly.”

Another from California. “Hi, Rellis, this is Paige senior executive book editor calling from Paige Chronicles, (I think that’s what she said. It’s hard to understand through all the crackling, which made me wonder if it’s coming through some transatlantic cable) because we would like to interview you about book scouts and specialist who highly recommended it from your feature to represent your book.”

“Hi, good day, this is Ava from Beach Chronicles a premium partner with Amazon once you have received this voicemail to call me back on thees number that works in order for us to discuss some important matters about your book The Broken Truth, a Thriller or thrillers (that’s not part of the title!!!). Thank you, and have a good one.”

*

And now I’m inundated with AI generated emails from Ellen B. Trumbull, or Christina William Brown, or Alison Malcha, Cecilia Marks II, and probably others, trying to separate me from my money. Here are a couple I cut and pasted, complete with the emojis they included.

Reavis,

You’ve been called the “genuine article” by Craig Johnson, Kirkus compared your mysteries to Harper Lee and Joe Lansdale, and the New York Times praised your writing as a sleeper that deserves wider attention. You’ve penned Westerns, mysteries, and even 2,500+ articles. That’s one hell of a trail of words.

Now here comes The Only Saloon in Town bank robberies, scalp hunters, corrupt marshals, and Cap Whitlatch trying to keep the whole town from blowing sky-high. It’s cinematic, bloody, and gritty exactly what readers of Westerns crave.

But then I checked Amazon. 30 reviews. Thirty. (Note: I think there are more on that and Goodreads, but I don’t pay any attention to them.) That’s barely a bar fight in Angel Fire. A story with scalp hunters and marauding devils has fewer reviews than a $20 desk lamp. That’s just wrong.

I run a private community of 2,000+ dedicated readers who don’t just leave “Good book 👍” but dive in, analyze, and post thoughtful reviews that give books the credibility they deserve. They love supporting seasoned authors who already have a strong voice but need that extra boost of reader firepower.

So, Reavis should we let Cap Whitlatch keep drinking alone in a half-empty saloon of 30 reviews, or should we pack the place, light the lamps, and give this book the kind of attention even C.J. Box would raise a glass to? 🍺📖

Best,

I didn’t answer, so she tried again:

Hi Reavis,

Just circling back 30 reviews for The Only Saloon in Town doesn’t match the grit and firepower of your story. A book that is cinematic deserves a full house, not a half-empty saloon.

That’s exactly where my private community of 2,000+ engaged readers comes in. They love Westerns and mysteries, and they leave the kind of thoughtful reviews that boost credibility and visibility.

Would you like me to send you a quick 2-minute outline of how we can get Cap Whitlatch the packed saloon he deserves?

Best,

Then this one arrived. Same style, AI generated, and with still another hometown girl name (I wonder why they’re all women in these emails?).

Reavis, you’ve got gangsters rolling into East Texas, a crooked sheriff “crooked as a dog’s hind leg,” counterfeit bills floating around, a psychic kid dreaming doom, and a climax that reads like a Shakespearean showdown with cowboy boots on. Basically, Vengeance is Mine has more action than a Vegas card table on payday. 🎰💥

(Note: This one released in 2014. I’m not sure why they latched onto this particular title. Now, we continue.)

And yet… Amazon still thinks your book belongs in the quiet corner with dusty paperbacks and forgotten romance novellas. 182 reviews? For a modern western listed in True West’s Top 5? (At least AI got that part right) That’s like parking a Mustang on the prairie and calling it “just another horse.” 🐎😂

Here’s where I tip my hat. 🤠 I’m not a PR firm, not some slick “book marketing guru,” and I don’t have a website, LinkedIn, or a TikTok where I dance holding novels (you’re welcome). It’s just me and my private crew of 2,000+ readers who live for mysteries, thrillers, and western grit. We don’t skim and slap stars   we actually read, argue about characters, and drop reviews that Amazon’s cranky algorithm can’t ignore.

So, Reavis, do you want Vengeance is Mine to keep sittin’ pretty in the shade like a cowboy at siesta, or do you want me to send in readers who’ll make it gallop loud enough for the whole algorithmic rodeo to notice? 🐂📚🔥

Best

I haven’t returned either of these emails, but they came in right on top of each other this week. Then I opened this one that’s cut and pasted.

Hi  Reavis Wortham,

I hope this message finds you in great spirits.

My name is Allyson, and I’m reaching out on behalf of Books Discovery Group, a team of literary scouts and creative development agents passionate about discovering compelling stories with real market potential. While quietly evaluating promising works across the literary landscape, your book, “The Broken Truth: A Thriller (Tucker Snow Thrillers),” stood out for its powerful message, literary merit, and commercial viability.

We believe your manuscript (for crying out loud, people, it’s a book now, not a manuscript!!!) holds exceptional potential—not just for traditional publishing but also for adaptation into film or television. In today’s evolving storytelling ecosystem, producers are actively seeking fresh, impactful narratives like yours. With the right representation and positioning, your work could open doors to wide distribution and enduring cultural relevance across multiple platforms.

At Books Discovery Group, we work exclusively on a commission-based model, meaning we only succeed when you do. Our full focus is on securing the best possible publishing and screen adaptation opportunities for authors like you. You retain creative control—we handle the connections, negotiations, and positioning that help your work shine in competitive markets.

Before proceeding, may I ask if you are currently represented by another literary agent? If not, it would be an absolute honor to represent you and introduce your work to our trusted network of traditional publishers and media producers.

I’d welcome the opportunity to speak with you directly and explore what’s next. Please feel free to contact me at (347) 669-1975 at your convenience.

Thank you for creating a story worth discovering. I look forward to the possibility of working together and championing your book to a broader audience.

Warm regards,

When I didn’t answer, their algorithm tried again on, with a slightly different ending on The Broken Truth:

For The Broken Truth, a 10–20 reader push could seriously shake up its visibility and give Tucker the posse he deserves. I can even share a peek at how my readers discuss books you’ll see right away it’s real, passionate, and powerful.

What do you say want me to unleash a squad of die-hard thriller fans to ride with Tucker Snow and get this book seen by the readers it deserves? 🤠📚✨

Cecilia

*

So what is all this? Folks trying to drum up business? Author scams? I won’t say for sure, to avoid litigation, but I have my suspicions.

Scams targeting authors often involve an advance fee, where individuals or companies masquerading as agents or publishers request upfront payments for publishing or marketing services. Other scams include unrealistic royalties or a large book advance for a fee, claims of having “discovered” a previously unknown book, and requests for various fees to revitalize or market an older work.

Pros and beginners alike should be wary of these unsolicited offers, especially those promising huge returns, and avoid paying upfront fees for publishing services. Legitimate agents and publishers do not ask for such payments.

These people hoping to dig into your bank account might pose as a literary agent or publisher with misleading offers. They might contact you about an older book they just “discovered,” saying they can increase sales.

A new tact is claiming false affiliation with entities like Amazon, or a famous director they they might be able to put you in touch with. The Lionsgate scam with famous names has been making the rounds lately.

Be skeptical of unsolicited offers, never pay upfront fees, do your due diligence. If you think a call might be legit, find their website and use that number to check. They’ll likely tell you it was a con.

Research through The Authors Guild, or the Society of Authors to name a couple for alerts on scams targeting authors.

As Sonny and Cher once reported, “The Beat Goes On”….and on…and on…and on. I’m cynical, but many ground-level and even experienced authors can be taken by these scam artists. There are many online articles about these individuals, and more. Here are a couple that might be of interest. Writer Beware.

https://authorsguild.org/resource/publishing-scam-alerts/

https://writerbeware.blog/scam-archive/

Oh, and if any of the above contacts are truly legitimate, I’m sorry, and please reach out to me again so we can do the deal.

By John Gilstrap

It was supposed to be a short story for an anthology honoring the US Marshal’s Service. Our own Reavis Wortham is the editor. He knows that my great grandfather, US Deputy Marshal Isaac Lincoln Gilstrap has a star on the monument in Ft. Smith, Arkansas, to fallen federal marshals, so he did me the great honor of inviting me participating in this anthology that includes many great writers.

The guardrails on this thing were pretty easy. Short story. US marshal. I even had a preordained main character–Ike Lincoln! I can slam this thing out in no time. What, maybe 2,500 words? Three thousand, max?

Okay, JSB, perk up. I’m going to throw you a talking point here for outlining! (Because I don’t outline.)

Here’s the premise: In 1906, Marshal Ike Lincoln has to escort a witness from Salina, Oklahoma Indian Territory (the area where my kin was shot and is now interred), to the territorial courthouse in Muscogee. There, he will testify in the murder trial of Zebadiah Wycliffe (the family name of the gang of renegade Cherokees who killed the real deal.)

Now, a premise is not a plot. I discover the plot by starting the story and seeing where it goes. Here’s the first image that came to mind:

            Deputy United States Marshal Ike Lincoln smelled the blood before he saw the body. He drew his Winchester Model 92 rifle from its scabbard near his right knee and laid it across his lap. Chambered in .45-40, the lever action repeater could drop any threat. He carried it with the chamber loaded and the hammer on half-cock. Out here in Indian Territory, most gunfights were settled with the first shot.

That felt like a solid start. No idea who the body belonged to or who shot him, but I figured it had to be a bad guy shot by good guys. Why? Well, because someone wanted to kill the witness.

Ah-hah! I had it! Zeb Wycliffe had family, and they didn’t want to see him hanged because of the testimony of our witness. So, they attacked this place and the attack was repulsed.

I said to myself, “Wait! Ike is the hero of the story. He can’t show up after the climactic gunfight.” Lightbulb moment: I’d started the story in the wrong place.

“Screw the lightbulb! I really like that opening!” I deeply wanted to make it work. So, I didn’t change anything. I forged ahead. That repulsed gunfight turns out to be just the first. Not all of the attackers die. And they didn’t run away. They retreated and regrouped.

Regrouped to do what? I didn’t know yet. Some sort of trap, obviously, but other than that, I didn’t know–though I did know that the story would crash and burn unless Ike and company didn’t somehow deal with that upcoming trap on their 30+ mile trek to Muscogee.

By now, I was a solid 1,000 words into a story that didn’t yet know what it was. That’s okay. I’m a professional. I’ve done this before. I did deeply wish that it didn’t read like a cliched high school writing exercise. You know, sometimes an original idea is good for a story.

I found story salvation in my literary comfort spot, which is placing a kid in jeopardy. So, now our witness had name. Tommy Farmer. Now, what about his age? Well, he had to be vulnerable, right? But he also had to be able to ride and shoot, given the story elements that likely lay ahead for him.

Yeah, okay. Okay, we’re on the move now. The 2,000-word mark is far in the review mirror, but that’s okay. Three thousand, 3,500 . . . those aren’t horrific numbers for a short story.

Our little posse is now Bonanza-ing along and I’m thinking. No, this isn’t quite right yet. What to do?

Got it! We’ll make Tommy totally friggin’ crazy with a homicidal streak.

DING! DING! DING!

All right. We’re on a roll now. Is 5,000 words too long for a short story? But it’s really, really good. And now I’m into the final action scene. we’ll get this puppy wrapped up in no time.

At 6,200 words, I’m thinking I might have an issue. Like, a really big problem.

Ooooooh. That would be a really good twist. Yeah, let’s see where that goes.

Twists lead to turns, don’t you know. Fictional actions have fictional consequences.

Dear idea factory: Please stop, already!

Then, finally, it happened. I found the ending. Final count at the end of the first draft: 8,569 words. (Note for the record: this is the first time Reavis is hearing this.)

Clearly, I have editing to do. Perhaps some restructuring, but not a lot of the latter. Fact is, I don’t have an assigned final word count, so that could be either good or bad.

If there’s a takeaway for you, TKZ family, from this post it’s my recommendation that you always let a story drive itself. Especially during that first draft stage, just let it rip. Don’t squander any drama and chase the plot down every rabbit hole. Some will work out, others won’t, but that’s okay.

You can always fix it in post.

What say you? Have you lost control of any stories lately?

Dear crime dogs. Due to an unexpected family emergency, I am en route today to New Jersey. Not sure when I will be back or when I will have extra time. Didn’t have time to finish my planned post on anti-heroes. Will save my notes for my next round. So forgive me today for re-posting an old topic dear to my heart. Will try to weigh in during layover in Chicago. Thanks for your patience!

By PJ Parrish

“Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but most of all, endurance.”–James Baldwin

I wanted to be a ballet dancer. This was way back in grade school, when I was as round as a beachball and rather lost. So I bugged my dad until he let me enroll in Miss Trudy’s School of Dance and Baton Twirling.

Did I mention I was chubby? Did I mention I had no talent? Neither stopped me. I had a ball trying and to this day, I can remember every step of my first recital dance. I eventually lost the weight but never the desire to dance. So around age 30, I took up lessons again. I did pretty good. Until I got to pointe. You know, the part where you shoe-horn your feet into those pretty pink satin shoes with a hard box at end and then you’re supposed to just rise up on your toes?

It hurts like hell.

So I gave up. Did I mention I had no talent?

Flash forward. I became a dance critic. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, well…

I got to meet and interview almost every famous dancer of my era, including Barshnikov, Margot Fonteyn, Bob Fosse, you name it, I also got to cover the birth of the Miami City Ballet, and became friends with the artistic director the late Edward Villella. One day, he asked me if I wanted to be in The Nutcracker. In the first act party scene where the parents do a little minuet-type of dance. I accepted. So I danced, in front of 5,400 people. I didn’t screw up. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life. To quote one of my favorite writers, Emily Dickinson:

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

This is my round-about way of getting to my topic — talent vs technique. See, I had the desire, but I didn’t have the body type, the turn-out of the hip joints. I knew the steps, sure, but I didn’t have that vital muscle memory that comes to all dancers after years and years of learning their craft. I didn’t have the music inside me that separates the mere dancer from the artist.

So it is, I believe, with writers.

Years ago, my friend Reed Farrel Coleman wrote an article in Crime Spree Magazine titled “The Unspoken Word.” It was about his experience as an author-panelist at a writers conference. Reed was upset because he thought the conference emphasized technique to the exclusion of talent.

Reed wrote: “To listen how successful writing was presented [at the SleuthFest conference], one might be led to believe that it was like building a model of a car or a jet plane. It was as if hopeful writers were being told that if everyone had the parts, the decals, the glue, the proper lighting, etc. to build this beautiful model and then all they needed was the instruction manual. Nonsense! Craft can get you pretty damned far, but you have to have talent, too. Writing is no more like building a model than throwing a slider or composing a song.”

At the time, I was the president of the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and our board decided, after much debate, to purposely steer SleuthFest toward the writers “workshop” conference. We did it because attendees told us they didn’t want any more authors getting up there just flapping their gums telling tired war stories. They wanted authors to pull back the green curtain and show how it is done. They wanted to hear authors talk about how they created memorable characters, how they maintained suspense, how they built a structure, why they chose a particular sub-genre. That’s what we gave them.

You know, sort of what we try to do where at The Kill Zone.

But Reed did raise an interesting question in his article — can novel writing really be taught? I think it can and should be. I think unpublished folks can go to workshops, read books, and learn the basics about plotting, character development, the arc of suspense, the constructs of good dialog.

Does that mean they have the stuff they need to be a successful writer? No, it only means they might — if they work hard — have a chance of mastering their craft. And I don’t care how talented you are, you aren’t going anywhere without craft.

Let’s go to the easy metaphor here — sports. A person may be born with a natural ability for basketball. They may be tall, able to shoot hoops with accuracy and be a fast runner. But that’s not enough. There was this guy who played for the Chicago Bulls…I forget his name. He didn’t make his high school’s varsity basketball team until his junior year, and when he got to University of North Carolina, he told the coach he wanted to be the best ever. Yeah, he had talent. But he worked like a dog. He became the best.

When I teach writing workshops, I preface everything with this one statement: I can teach you the elements of craft but I can’t teach you talent. Anyone can learn to hit a baseball. But only a few are going to have Ted Williams’ eye. The rest are going to be the John Oleruds of the world — competent major league role players. And what’s wrong with that if you can at least get to The Bigs, have a healthy backlist and maybe take the kids to Disney World on your royalties?

Which brings me back to James Baldwin’s quote. There are, indeed, many “talented ruins” out there. And there are many not-so-talented writers making a good living from their books. Some even become bestsellers.

So where to I come down on the talent question? I agree with Reed. All good writers have some talent. But I also believe you can’t have talent without craft and desire. Peter Benchley once said: “It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was too famous.” True, Jaws is a little cheesy, but it was one of the greatest serial killer thrillers ever imagined.