Reader Friday-Name That Tune!

 

Fridays are fun around here at TKZ. We talk about writing, marketing tips and tricks—but wait! Yes, we can cover those writing topics and more on Fridays, but let’s have a bit of fun.

Today we’re going to indulge in some nostalgia.

What was your favorite music when you were a teenager? Tell us the genre and the artist(s) you couldn’t get enough of. Did your parents approve, or did you have to be an undercover listener? Has your choice of tunes changed now that you’re a *grown-up*?

I’ll start:  My parents introduced me to Andy Williams, Frank Sinatra, The Ames Brothers and the like. My friends introduced me to Creedence, the Monkees, and the Eagles—for covert listening, of course.

I liked all of it then . . . but now? I’d listen to that second group of artists every day and twice on Sundays.

Okay, your turn–what’s your fave music from back in the day? And how about your characters–are they music lovers? What tunes do they gravitate to?

And thanks for playing Name That Tune!

 

 

The First Mystery Story

Reni, Guido; Susanna and the Elders; Glynn Vivian Art Gallery; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/susanna-and-the-elders-227206

By Elaine Viets

Sex, violence, perjury, crooked judges, blackmail – and police procedural techniques still used today. All these are in the first detective story.

So which one is it?

Some say the first detective story was Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” way back in 1841. Wilkie Collins generally gets credit for the first detective novel, “The Moonstone,” in 1868. And others claim Metta Victoria Fuller wrote the first American detective novel, “The Dead Letter,” in 1866. After that, scholars slug it out until we get to the undisputed champion, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his detective, Sherlock Holmes, in 1887.

But I agree with M.T. Logan that the first detective story was published several thousand years earlier. It’s the story of Susanna and the Elders. If you’re Catholic or Greek Orthodox, Susannah is in the Book of Daniel and is considered divinely inspired. For Protestants and many other religions, the story is part of the Apocrypha, the books that didn’t quite make the cut.

Detail from Susanna and Elders by Tintoretto

Susanna was a young married Jewish woman, living in Babylon. She was God-fearing and good-looking. Susanna liked to walk in her husband’s orchard, and two old pervs – excuse me, two highly respected judges – liked to watch. They fell madly in lust with her, and conspired “when they might find her alone,” as the Good Book says. The old creeps lucked out.

On a hot day, Susanna decided to take a bath in the orchard. The two old men hid themselves and watched as she told her maids, “Bring me oil, and washing balls, and shut the doors of the orchard, that I may wash me.” As soon as the maids brought the things for Susanna’s bath, they shut the doors and left. Nobody knew that the two old degenerates were lurking in the orchard.

Once the doors were shut, the horny old coots cornered Susanna, and said she’d better have sex with them, or they would lie and say “that a young man was with thee, and therefore thou didst send away thy maids.”

Susanna realized she was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t, but she’d be damned if she’d have sex with those two creeps. “It is better for me to fall into your hands without doing it, then to sin in the sight of the Lord,” she said.

Susanna and Elders by Anthony van Dyck

Susanna screamed and the old blackmailers screamed, and there was a trial. The judges testified falsely against Susanna, claiming she was with a young stud under a tree, and they’d tried to stop this terrible sin of adultery. The young man got away, but the judges caught Susanna. “The multitude believed them, as being the elders, and the judges of the people, they condemned her to death.”
This was long before #MeToo, and while adultery was a sin for both sexes, it was a bigger sin for women. The patriarchs didn’t want free-range women begetting someone’s child.
Susanna called out to God, “I have done none of these things, which these men have maliciously forged against me.”
In stepped young Daniel, who said, “I am clear of the blood of this woman.”
He lectured the crowd for condemning Susanna “without examination or knowledge of the truth.”
He then conducted his investigation the way all good modern police officers do. He separated the two judges.
He asked the first judge under what tree did he see Susanna doing the wild thing with the young hunk. The judge said, “under a mastic tree.” That tree is where chewing gum comes from.
The second judge claimed Susanna did the deed under a holm tree, a type of oak.

Holm tree

The two lying judges had convicted themselves “by their own mouth.” They were killed.
So there you have it – a detective story with a victim, two villains, and a hero who knew how to search for the truth.

Note: Today’s blog is a repeat. I’ll stop by when I can. — Elaine

The Star Does All The Good Stuff

By John Gilstrap

About 25 years ago (and at least that many books ago), I was in Hollywood at the Warner Brothers lot, writing a script for a film called Young Men And Fire, which I foolishly thought would be an adaptation of the wonderful Norman McLean book of the same name, but turned out to be something different.

My boss at the time was Len Amato, then a producer for Baltimore/Spring Creek Pictures, and more recently president of HBO Films. Len was a great guy to work for–very patient and a solid mentor to young and inexperienced screenwriters. I remember turning in a scene I’d written in the script that had some really cool, innovative stuff going on. If I recall properly, it was about secondary characters doing the cool stuff to rescue the lead character, who would be listed as the “star” of the picture. Len read it, said some complimentary things, then smacked me with one of the great lightbulb moments of my writing career:

“John, remember that the star gets to do all the cool stuff.”

Extrapolating out, this means that the star (main character) should own every scene in which he or she is present. Because they’re the ones driving the story, they should also be the ones driving their scenes.

I was reminded of Len Amato’s mentorship a week or so ago, when my editor at Kensington, the wonderful Michaela Hamilton, sent me her editorial letter on the manuscript for Scorched Earth, the next Jonathan Grave thriller, due out next spring. In it, I presented scenes where the bad guys were setting up their bad guy stuff in active ways, while Jonathan and his team spent most of the first third of the book researching databases and connecting dots. They really don’t do much of anything. If Scorched Earth were a mystery, then the quiet sleuthing would be fine.

But my fans are not looking for a mystery from me. They’re looking for a thriller, and in thrillers, the main character (the star) makes things happen. Plots points are revealed kinetically, the results of the star’s actions.

I’d forgotten Len Amato’s Dictum.

And heres’ the thing: While I was and still am very proud of the story, I knew something was wrong with it. I told my wife that the story’s heartbeat didn’t seem quite right. For the life of me, though, I couldn’t see what was wrong.

But Michaela Hamilton did. This is the wonder of a long relationship with a fantastic editor. Once she showed my how in the first act, Jonathan processes and acts on information that is provided to him, rather than hunting down and finding the information himself.

Well, crap. I don’t mean to sound un-humble, but it’s been decades since I’ve been compelled to a massive rewrite of a manuscript because of editorial input. More than a few of my books have required no change at all beyond copy edits.

At their face, the changes I’m making affect only the first act. In reality, because my plots are tightly woven and fairly intricate, there’s no such thing as a first act change that doesn’t have impact on some scene or line of dialogue later in the book.

It’s my own fault. I’ve been wildly distracted by various life events in the past 12 months, and in retrospect, I tried to get away with a shortcut that didn’t work. I didn’t do it intentionally, but if I’d been 100% mentally in the game, I’d be on to my next project by now, not causing stress for myself and the entire production team by stopping forward progress and working backwards to fix a problem that never should have existed.

I think it’s important to understand that every observation made by my editor–and the changes they triggered–were all presented as merely suggestions. They were willing to publish the book exactly as I had written it, but “maybe it would be better if . . .”

There’s no maybe about it. I’ve given myself two weeks to make the changes.

The Semi-Colon Is Dead;
Long Live The Dash?

By PJ Parrish

Aldus Manutius - Wikipedia

See this guy at left? The one that looks like the kind of guy who would correct the grammar in your Facebook “I luv wiener dogs” post?

This is Aldus Manutius. He was an Italian printer who founded the Aldine Press, and he devoted most of his life to publishing rare texts. His flaming desire to preserve Greek manuscripts marked him as a great innovator of his age. He also introduced a small, portable book format, which revolutionized personal reading habits and probably led to the modern paperback. So I guess I should thank him for that since that’s where my humble beginnings in this business lie.

He also is credited as the father of the semicolon. For which I can’t forgive him.

If you’ve read my posts here on the beauty of apt punctuation, you know how passionate I can be about some things. I really dislike exclamation marks, for instance. I’ll excuse one or two in really hot action scenes, like “You’re gonna die really ugly, Butkiss!” Or in moments of intense emotion in a Stephen King novel, like “Don’t go in the basement!”  But usually, I side with F. Scott Fitzgerald who famously said using exclamation marks is “like laughing at your own joke.”

Unnecessary Apostrophes

And don’t get me going on the rampant misuse of the humble apostrophe. Shaw called them “uncouth bacilli,” so his writings are peppered with stuff like didnt, wont and aint. Today, most people can’t or won’t be bothered to learn how to punctuate with the apostrophe. It’s like, banana’s out there! (sic)

But then there’s the semicolon. I was an English major, so I know in my brain what the thing is supposed to do: create a pause between two related independent clauses. As in: My dog Archie, sleeping at my side, just passed gas; he ran out of the room faster than I could so I got the blame when the husband came in. But in my heart, I hate them. And I really hate them in novels.

Thankfully, the semicolon is on the wane. According to a study from the Babbel, the online language-learning platform: “Semicolon usage in British English books has fallen by nearly 50% in the past two decades.”

But The Thing has been dying a slow death for a long time now. A study of semicolon use in U.S. publishing from 1920 to 2019 noted a dramatic slide. Newspapers, magazines, and fiction and nonfiction books all soured on the semicolon, though nonfiction after 2000 did see an uptick from the depths.

Uptick…probably had something to do with lawyers.

The Babbel study set off a predictably anal reaction in the British press. The Independent lamented: “Our best punctuation mark is dying out; people need to learn how to use it.” The Financial Times whined: “Semicolons bring the drama; that’s why I love them.” Gawd, loosen your bun, Wilma. Only The Spectator had the sense to write a wry obit: “The semicolon had its moment; that moment is over.”

I’m not alone in my distaste for The Things. George Orwell called them “an uncessary stop.” Cormac McCarthy called its useage “Idiocy.” Even Edgar Allen Poe called for the dash to replace it. (Yeah! Go, Eddie!)

Here’s a passage from Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway. Find the semicolons and then you tell me if they work.

Having lived in Westminster—how many years now? Over twenty—one feels even in the midst of traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense (but that might be her heart, affected, they said, by influenza) before Big Ben strikes. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable.

It’s argued that the semicolon between the “warning, musical” and “the hour, irrevocable” achieves an “indescribable pause,” as Woolf puts it. Would a full stop have worked better? Would periods (the likely choice of modern writers) been less fussy? And the ultimate question: Who am I to quibble with Virginia Woolf?

I dunno. To me, a semicolon in fiction just never feels right. It feels pretentious and archaic. To you, or other writers, it can feel…useful, even lending a certain gravitas. Martin Luther King used them with magnificent ease. Ditto Twain, Chandler, Rushdie.

The best quote I found about this comes from Abraham Lincoln, no less. He wrote, in 1864:

“I have a great respect for the semi-colon; it’s a very useful little chap.” But then he adds the kicker: “With educated people, I suppose, punctuation is a matter of rule; with me it is a matter of feeling.”

Indeed. Fiction is about finding your way around the placement of words, sentences and phrases. It is all about feeling your way, feeling period. If it weren’t, you and I would be writing legal briefs. So, okay….go forth, crime dogs, and semicolonize. If it feels good, do it. I’ll just look the other way.

 

Child Psych

One of my oldest friends, Steve Knagg (a former newspaper columnist), is a guitar-picking son of a gun. In the late 1980s and 90s, he and I traveled across the country to our state and national conferences and events, and played in hospitality rooms to mostly entertain ourselves, and hopefully, others.

That was back in the days when Southwest Arlines flew with only a few dozen passengers, even at peak times. Once, he and I boarded with our guitars and found there were only six other seats filled. We’d been in the bar earlier, so we went to the back, and after the plane took off, took out our guitars and started playing.

The flight attendant came by. “Y’all can’t be doing that. You’re disturbing the other passengers.”

I glanced down the aisle. “We’re providing entertainment.”

“I’d like for you to provide silence.”

Steve spoke up. “We’ll quit playing if you’ll give us free drinks.”

She came back with a dozen bottles of Wild Turkey and we put away our instruments. I think that was the most we were ever paid for our performances.

I haven’t played in over twenty-five years, but he still picks a little, and a couple of weeks ago, we started talking about how we learned. My limited abilities came from lessons when I was in junior high school. To a kid who loved The Monkees, the idea of being a famous musician was appealing, but after learning the basic chords, I abandoned the classes because I didn’t like to practice.

After that, I tinkered with my old Stella, and like other kids of our era, my friends and I formed a garage band that was…terrible. We had three songs, and I’m sure they were like fingernails on a blackboard to anyone over eighteen. One of my female cousins asked us to play at her fifteenth birthday, and we went through our repertoire five times before my uncle came into the living room, unplugged the microphone, and took it with him.

We weren’t surprised. The year before, we played In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on the record player so many times he took the LP off the spindle, opened the door, and flung it like a frisbee into the yard. He was very clear on what he liked, or disliked.

Steve, on the other hand. learned to play in a different way. One day his dad bought a cheap guitar and without saying a word to his three sons, leaned it up in the corner of the living room where it gathered dust for a year or two. Then one day, after listening to Bob Dylan albums, Steve wiped the dust off and asked a friend to teach him some chords.

He showed considerable aptitude and eventually taught his younger brother to play. That brother became an engineer at Skunkworks, but could have made a career out of playing in professional bands. He’s one of the best pickers I’ve ever known.

I asked Steve once what he would have done if his dad came in with the guitar and said, “Here, learn to play this.”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

Typical kid reaction, and I should have learned from it, since I took child psychology classes as part of my degree in education. Which leads me to today’s post. Our oldest daughter, Chelsea (AKA the Redhead in my newspaper columns), is now a high school librarian and suffers the same stubbornness. If I tell her to read a book that caught my attention, she won’t do it. She loves me, but there’s some unconscious quirk that kicks in and she can’t help but dig in her heels.

Her twelve-year-old daughter, Riley, inherited the same stubbornness, but I didn’t know it until a couple of weeks ago when the Bride and I took the whole crew down to the Texas coast. Riley suffers from the same affliction I’ve carried all my life, the need to have books close by. It makes my heart happy to see she brings a backpack full of books everywhere she goes.

Interestingly, she prefers not to read on electronic devices, stating that she likes the feel and smell of books.

Ahhhhh.

Now that she’s graduated to chapter books, I really want her to read one that I discovered when I was in the seventh grade. Let’s pause here to understand The Spooky Thing was hysterical to a boy in 1967. William O. Steele was a favorite back then, and I have most of those books on my nostalgia shelf. Sorry about the blurry image, but it was the best I could find online.

So I made the mistake of telling Riley I wanted her to read the book, and described the plot and how funny I thought it was. The Redhead cut her eyes at me and gave her head a small warning shake. It was too late. The sixth-grader shut me down and left the untouched book in the kitchen table.

When she went outside to swim with her brother and cousins, the Redhead caught me. “She won’t read it now. You should have just put it somewhere she could see it and maybe she’d pick it up.”

“This isn’t like when I was a kid and adults were the enemy. It’s a good book.”

“Never trust anyone over twenty-one. I know, Dad, you’ve told us those stories, but she’s like I am, and you’re her granddad. Remember what you say when you’re teaching a writing class. Show, don’t tell.”

“So what should I have done?”

“Put it somewhere where she’d see it and maybe she would have picked it up and thumbed through the pages. But it looks old, the protagonists are boys, and she likes girl heroes the most.” She shrugged. “And besides, I don’t think the cover would ever catch her interest.”

“I like the artwork.”

“Of course you do, but she reads graphic novels. She’s used to Calvin and Hobbs artwork, too, as well as Garfield. Now she reads things like School for Good and Evil, and Big Nate, and The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Her new favorite is the Sherlock Society.”

“Never heard of those.”

“She just read The Thief of Always.”

“Okay, I see where the graphics are better, but she reads Clive Barker and not my own stuff?”

“She doesn’t know him, but she’ll get there with your books, because she sees them on the shelf behind your desk all the time. She asked me the other day if she would like The Rock Hole, but don’t suggest it. Let her find the books in her own time.”

I sighed, realizing I should have remembered Steve’s dad and the guitar, and left The Spooky Thing out with all the other kid books in what we call “the kid’s room,” and crossed my fingers.

So with that knowledge, my next project is to collect all my old childhood favorites and put them on a shelf where the grandcritters can see them. Maybe our future readers will find something of interest, and they can enjoy the books that led me to become a dedicated reader, and eventually a writer.

I should have listened harder in Child Psych 101, but then again, that was a long time ago and I didn’t want anyone, especially professions, to tell me what to do.

And Now You Know… the Rest of the Story

“Hello, Americans. I’m Paul Harvey… Stand by for news.”

If you grew up with a radio anywhere in earshot from the 1950s through the early 2000s, chances are you’ve heard that familiar, melodic cadence. Paul Harvey’s voice wasn’t just a part of American broadcasting—it was American broadcasting. Like the tick of an old kitchen clock, his short-form radio features delivered history, mystery, and moral insight in under five minutes. But what truly made his stories unforgettable were the endings—those last few lines that turned everything on its head.

“And now you know… the rest of the story.”

That catchphrase was the kicker. The hook. The twist. The reason we all kept listening, leaned in, smiled, gasped, or even teared up. And for us writers, it holds a masterclass in storytelling structure, suspense, and emotional payoff.

Who Was Paul Harvey?

Paul Harvey Aurandt was born in 1918 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. After losing his policeman father to a tragic shooting when Paul was only three, Harvey grew up in a world shaped by grit, survival, and the power of words. He started in radio as a teenager and worked his way up through the golden age of broadcasting.

By the 1950s, he was a national presence. With his distinct pauses, curious phrasing, and Midwestern moral clarity, Harvey captivated millions of listeners across decades. He delivered daily news commentary, but it was his mid-day feature—“The Rest of the Story”—that elevated him from commentator to storyteller.

These were not breaking news segments. They were human stories—true stories—told with elegance, economy, and a surprising punchline.

The Structure of a Paul Harvey Story

Every episode of The Rest of the Story followed a similar template:

  1. Set the Scene – Often vague at first. He introduces a person, place, or problem, but not the full identity.
  2. Build the Curiosity – Facts are layered. Oddities emerge. You’re engaged but unsure where it’s going.
  3. Reveal the Surprise – The identity or twist is saved for the final sentence. A famous person in disguise. A historical icon before they were known. A legendary outcome from humble beginnings.
  4. Moral Undercurrent – Often subtle, but present. There’s usually a sense of justice, fate, irony, or redemption.

This structure was no accident. Harvey understood how people listen, and more importantly, why people listen. He didn’t just tell you what happened. He withheld the obvious until it would land with maximum impact.

Why It Worked So Well

Harvey’s genius was in the setup. He trusted the intelligence of his audience. He guided us with breadcrumbs, letting us build assumptions—only to gleefully knock them over at the end.

He leveraged:

  • Suspense through omission
  • Familiarity cloaked in unfamiliarity
  • Emotional resonance through the unexpected
  • A moral twist embedded in fact

He also knew how to perform a story—his pacing, tone, and silences were part of the storytelling. A well-timed pause said more than a paragraph ever could.

Greatest Hits from “The Rest of the Story”

Here are a few classic Paul Harvey closers. (Spoilers ahead!)

  • A young boy with a stutter who found his voice onstage—James Earl Jones.
  • A failed artist who became the world’s most famous cartoonist—Walt Disney.
  • The man who couldn’t afford college, so he audited classes—William Hewlett, co-founder of Hewlett-Packard.
  • The boy kicked out of school for poor learning—Thomas Edison.

Each story was true. Each one held a lesson. And each left the listener with a sense of awe: Wait… really? That was who?

Now think of the emotional arc in those tales—curiosity, empathy, admiration. That’s what made Harvey unforgettable.

What Writers Can Learn From Paul Harvey

If you’re writing novels, short stories, true crime, memoirs, or blog posts, the Paul Harvey method has gold to offer. Here’s how to apply it:

  1. Start with the Setup, Not the Star

Instead of opening with the known, open with the unknown. Create a character or situation that invites questions. Let the reader lean in, not back.

  1. Use Withholding as a Tool

You don’t have to reveal everything up front. Create tension by what you don’t say. Let the reader work a little. We love to fill in blanks.

  1. Save the Reveal

That final “aha” moment—that’s your money shot. Whether it’s in the climax of your thriller or the final line of your blog post, hold back until it counts.

  1. Layer with Moral Resonance

Harvey’s stories were often about perseverance, redemption, or ironic justice. That’s the stuff readers remember. Don’t preach. Just infuse meaning.

  1. Let Style Be the Vehicle

Paul Harvey’s voice was unmistakable—rhythmic, quirky, personal. As writers, we all have a voice. Don’t sand it down. Sharpen it.

And Finally… the Rest of This Story

There’s something timeless about what Paul Harvey gave us. He didn’t just relay facts—he made us feel them. In a world that’s more crowded, distracted, and cynical than ever, the ability to pause a reader and make them say, “Wow… I didn’t see that coming”—that’s real storytelling.

So what happened to The Rest of the Story after Paul Harvey passed in 2009?

Here’s the kicker: The show continued briefly with his son, Paul Harvey Jr., but never quite recaptured the magic. Why?

Because Paul Harvey wasn’t just a format. He was the story.

And now you know… the rest of the story.

Kill Zoners – Who around here is young enough to remember Paul Harvey? If you do, what was your favorite episode? Mine was the story of the recycled timbers in a New England barn being traced as originating from the scrapped ship, Mayflower.

Compromises

Compromises
Terry Odell

cover of The Triple-D Ranch novels by Terry OdellFirst, if you’ll indulge me, I have a new release. Not exactly a new book, but after being away, having family visiting, writing breaks to do research, hitting the 30K wall, and other real life interruptions, I feared the wip wasn’t going to be finished in time for a pre-holiday release.

What did I do? Triggered by an acceptance for a BookBub Featured Deal on July 9th for In Hot Water, book 1 in my Triple-D Ranch Romantic Suspense series, I decided to bundle all 4 books in the series as a box set.

I checked with the marketing gurus at BookBub, and they suggested that a release of the bundle before the featured deal would be a good option. I pulled the manuscripts for all four books into a single file and made the necessary adjustments to front and back matter. Since the first 3 in the series were released in 2016, there were some formatting issues to deal with, but it didn’t take long to have a manuscript file ready to upload.

I went into a lot of the process in a post a while back, so I’m not going to repeat any of that now. If you’re interested, you can find it here.

The new book, brilliantly titled, The Triple-D Ranch Series is available for purchase at most popular e-tailers. Here’s a link to one-stop shopping.

And on to the post topic: Compromises

Sue’s post on Monday reminded me of our move from Florida to Colorado way back in 2010. Although this is no longer my path to publication, I know a lot of TKZers are, or are hoping to be, traditionally published. The road to publication, like moving into a new house, can be filled with compromises.

During our renovations and remodels, we found ourselves compromising on a lot of issues. Sometimes it was a matter of money—deciding what things we were willing to cut from our dream plan, and where we were willing to shell out the extra cash. We decided to go with underfloor heating in the bathrooms. However, a custom job, with the heat mat made to order for the bathroom was prohibitively costly compared with the off-the-shelf versions. The compromise meant we were restricted to the sizes the mats came in; we couldn’t get the heat mat under the tile of the entire bathroom, leaving a few areas where the tiles remain cold. But having that extra course of tiles heated wasn’t worth the price differential. It was easier to learn to take a bigger step into the hall bath if you were barefoot, avoiding the first row of tiles.

Another compromise – we had a lot more room in our former house. Finding places for things that went into our wall units and china cabinet meant more furniture. We ended up with a large curio cabinet in the living area. However, it doesn’t have any interior lighting, so as far as displaying treasures goes, it’s not really the perfect system. It ended up being a liquor and glassware cabinet.

We ordered two bookcases for the downstairs, but when they arrived, we realized that one was a shade too tall for where we wanted to put it. (Never thought about the bulkhead ceiling on that side of the room, or how tall the bookcases would be.) So, we found another spot for the second unit, which ate up several feet of wall space, meaning when we get furniture for the room, we’re going to be limited in what will fit where.

When writing, you’ll also learn to make compromises—unless, of course, you’re writing strictly for yourself. Everyone says ‘write the book of your heart.’ But if you want people to read your books, you’re going to have to consider what the readers want. The book of your heart might not be marketable.

Somewhere along the line, you have to decide which battles are worth fighting and which aren’t. Some, you’ll never win. If a publisher wants humor, and you’re not a funny person, maybe that’s the time to realize that your efforts might be better spent elsewhere. Or maybe they want deep, dark suspense, full of serial killers and psychopaths, and you prefer lighthearted mystery. Are you capable of writing what they want? Will you feel like you’re struggling to get each word on the page? Assuming you’ve done your homework and submitted your work to a publisher who publishes what you write, and it’s accepted, what’s next? You’re going to have to deal with an editor who works for the publisher, and knows what they’re looking (or not looking) for.

For example, my editor for When Danger Calls, one of my early traditionally published novels, told me the publisher would nix any use of the word ‘penis.’ She said their readers didn’t like to read it. Was there a point to arguing with this one? No. Easy enough to change.

Another publisher didn’t like the use of brand names. Sometimes, a brand name serves as an immediate image for readers. I had to fight (and contact the companies) to use Knob Creek and Denny’s in a book.

On a grander scale, some genres have their own reader expectations and publishers have their own guidelines.

Once you’re aware of what your publisher and editor expect, you’ll find that you’re compromising with yourself during the writing process. Just like you learn to avoid that first course of tiles in the bathroom, you won’t use those ‘forbidden’ words. If you’re writing a contemporary series romance, you’ll learn to get your hero and heroine on the page and involved immediately, because that’s what readers of that genre want, and the publisher expects you to meet their expectations. If you’re writing a mystery, your readers will assume it’s a “murder mystery” and they’ll want to see that dead body right away.

Even indie authors might have to compromise to meet reader expectations. I’ve written almost 35K words in my next Mapleton mystery, and there’s no dead body. Yet.

How about you, TKZers? Have you had to compromise to keep your submission or book marketable?


New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Danger Abroad

When breaking family ties is the only option.

Madison Westfield has information that could short-circuit her politician father’s campaign for governor. But he’s family. Although he was a father more in word than deed, she changes her identity and leaves the country rather than blow the whistle.

Blackthorne, Inc. taps Security and Investigations staffer, Logan Bolt, to track down Madison Westfield. When he finds her in the Faroe Islands, her story doesn’t match the one her father told Blackthorne. The investigation assignment quickly switches to personal protection for Madison.

Soon, they’re involved with a drug ring and a kidnapping attempt. Will working together put them in more danger? Can a budding relationship survive the dangers they encounter? Available now.

Like bang for your buck? I have a new Triple-D Ranch bundle. All four novels for one low price. One stop shopping here.


Terry Odell is an award-winning author of Mystery and Romantic Suspense, although she prefers to think of them all as “Mysteries with Relationships.”

How to Avoid Apostrophe Abuse

by Debbie Burke

Apostrophes. That tiny punctuation mark seems to trip up more people than any other.

Here are a few examples of apostrophes that are misused:

 

So what are the correct uses of the apostrophe?

  1. In contractions: an apostrophe indicates a missing letter or letters.

Jean’s going to the store. = Jean is going to the store.

  1. To indicate possession: At the store, a shopping cart door-dinged Jean’s car.

When not to use an apostrophe:

  1. To indicate plurals. Shopping carts, not shopping cart’s.
  2. To indicate decades. The 1990s, not the 1990′s.

Decades can be written in various ways.

Example: Rock and roll gained popularity in the 1950s.

However, if the decade is possessive, it needs an apostrophe.

Example: The 1950’s song “That’ll Be the Day” hit number 1 on Billboard Magazine.

If you use a contraction to abbreviate a decade, that requires an apostrophe for the missing part of the year.

Example: In the ’20s, bobbed hair was the cat’s meow.

The dreaded question of ITS vs IT’S raises the most confusion.

That’s because ‘s usually indicates possession.

Examples: Gary’s book; the USA’s foreign policy.   

Its is the annoying exception.

It’s is a contraction for “it is” or “it was.”

In the immortal words of Mr. Rogers: “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” 

Its is the possessive form.

Example: AI doesn’t understand its own capability.

Plurals add another layer of confusion.

How often have you received a holiday card from “The Smith’s”?

“The Smith’s” is possessive.

It should be “The Smiths” plural to indicate the card came from multiple members of the Smith family.

Want to get even more confused? Names and nouns that end with an “S” are treated differently.

The plural of Jones is “Joneses.”

The plural of cross is “crosses.” Example: Many Civil War graves were marked with crosses.

The possessive of Jones can either be “the Jones’ house” or the Jones’s house” depending on the style guide used.

The possessive of crosses is generally crosses’. Example: The crosses’ wood had weathered and split.

Then there are plural initialisms. (I had to look that one up.)

They are initials that are used as nouns.

Examples: DMV, BMW, FAQ

The plurals are DMVs, BMWs, FAQs.

The possessive form needs an apostrophe.

Example: The DMV’s reputation for long wait times is well known.

However, if the initial is a single one, the plural needs an apostrophe.

Example: Sarah’s report card was all B’s.

The plural of the noun “I” can be shown with an apostrophe to keep it from being misread as “Is”.

Example: Too many I’s used in that paragraph is repetitive.

Yourdictionary.com offers a clear, concise explanation of how to avoid apostrophe abuse.

Pop Quiz

  1. When the tree starts to drop (its) (it’s) leaves, (it’s) (its) a sure sign of early fall.
  2. The (Gateses) (Gates’) (Gate’s) need to increase their income to keep up with the (Bezos’s) (Bezos’) (Bezoses).
  3. On (Saturday’s) (Saturdays) we always visit the (farmer’s) (farmers) market to check out the many different (vendor’s) (vendors’) fresh (veggie’s) (veggies).
  4. What’s your (Achille’s) (Achilles’) (Achilles’s) heel when it comes to grammar?
  5. (Phyllis’s) (Phyllis’) intention was to attend the (writer’s) (writers’) (writers) conference.

Answers:

  1. When the tree starts to drop its leaves, it’s a sure sign of fall.
  2. The Gateses need to increase their income to keep up with the Bezoses. Yeah, it sounds wonky to the ear but it’s correct.
  3. Saturdays is correct. Farmer’s is correct but could also be farmers’ market. Vendors’ is correct. Veggies is correct.
  4. Achilles’ and Achilles’s are both right. However, Achilles’ is less of a tongue twister and sounds better to the ear.
  5. Okay, this is a multiple-part trick question.

Phyllis’s or Phyllis’ are both right depending on the style sheet you’re using. Just be consistent—choose one form or the other and stick with it throughout the story, article, etc.

Writers’ conference is preferred because it’s possessive meaning multiple writers attend it. However, writer’s conference is also an adjective describing the type of conference. The Word grammar checker puts a squiggly blue line under writers conference, indicating questionable use. However, writers conference is common, making it accepted although not strictly correct.

 

I feel for non-native speakers trying to learn the inconsistent, convoluted, mystifying English language.

If we writers ever master all the nuances of grammar,“That’ll Be the Day” to celebrate!

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TKZers: What’s your Achilles’ heel in grammar? Do you have any reminder tricks to suggest?

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Counting down to launch day for The Villain’s Journey-How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate.

James Scott Bell says: “Debbie Burke has filled a critical gap in writing craft instruction.”

Christopher Vogler says: “You will certainly find insight and inspiration to make your villains leap off the page and haunt your readers’ dreams.”

Preorder now and the ebook will be delivered to your device on July 13.

Amazon link

Moving and Writing

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving. —Albert Einstein

* * *

I’ve mentioned over the past few weeks that my husband and I have moved to a new home. It’s been a long, hard effort, but now we’re in the new place and trying to regain some sense of normalcy.

One thing getting back to normal means is writing a post for TKZ. So now, I sit at my desk, surrounded by towers of boxes and ponder what I should write about while the aroma of fresh cardboard and packing tape wafts through the house. Since I do so love analogies about writing, there’s my subject: How are moving and writing related.

The Big Adventure

Moving starts as an adventure. Maybe it’s a new job or a better living situation or some other reason to change addresses. There’s a lot of anticipation mixed with a little anxiety. Lists are made, forms are ordered, lots of organization is put in place. Whatever the reason, the excitement builds as moving day nears.

Same with a new novel. A great idea suddenly crystallizes and you realize you have a theme for a new book. The best yet. You begin to draft out character sketches and a general plot line. You set up Scrivener for the new work and put together a project plan with a schedule. You stand at the mountaintop looking over the landscape and imagine the journey ahead.

The Trek Goes On … and On

If you’re lucky, you’ll hire a moving company to pack and move everything. But what’s the adventure in that? To keep the analogy with writing, you’ll have to do your own packing. You go through the house and decide what can be given away, sold, or stored. You order packing materials and spend weeks knee deep in boxes, bubble wrap, and permanent markers. But it’s taking longer than you thought, and the whole task of packing boxes has become hard work. You have to decide what to keep and what to let go. At some point, you ask yourself “Whose idea was this, anyway?”

Writing is a little less physically demanding. Day after day, you pack Scrivener with new scenes, and your creativity is firing on all cylinders. Finally, you’re deep into the story. Then you hit a wall, and you back up to look at what you’ve accomplished so far. It’s just a mess, and you have to decide what to throw away. You can keep everything, but then your new story will be a jumble of scenes rather than a carefully crafted book, so a serious pruning job is in order.

Persistence Pays Off

That’s when it hits you. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But you’ve already invested heavily in the story or the move, so you keep going forward. Not quite as excited, but shoulder to the wheel. The message in your head is no longer “Woo-hoo,” but more like “Put one foot in front of the other.”

It seems like ages before those boxes are all packed or the chapters are written. The movers come and transfer all the furniture to the new place. You have a fully finished first draft. It still doesn’t look so pretty, but at least you’re beginning to see the story behind the jumble.

Revision

So now you move into unpacking mode, putting things where they belong, discarding boxes, and cleaning up. In a novel, this would be the final draft. Rearranging the chapters and rewriting.

The work is long and sometimes boring. But occasionally you’ll stumble onto some little artifact that makes you realize how nice the finished product will be. It takes forever to unpack, fit things into their new environment, and get the household in order.

Slowly, day by day, the pieces begin to fit together to form a cohesive whole. The house is set, the novel is written, and the job is done.

The End … for now

It’s time to sip champagne, take a short rest, and then get to work on marketing.

* * *

So TKZers: How do you deal with the confusion that surrounds moving or writing? Do you keep plugging away knowing everything will come out well? How do you celebrate when the big move or book release is over?

* * *

 

Spunky 10-year-old Reen and her shy, 9-year-old cousin Joanie never stop moving while they hunt for a treasure left by the mysterious Mr. Shadow. Along the way, they learn the value of persistence, teamwork, and fair play.

Click the image to go to the Amazon book page.

 

Series Words of Wisdom

A great mystery or thriller series can have lasting popularity. But how do you create a one that will go the distance with readers?

Today’s Words of Wisdom has you covered. James Scott Bell provides five qualities in the best series characters. John Gilstrap discusses planting fodder for a future series in that first book even as each book can stand on its own. Finally, Sue Coletta assembles advice from several other Kill Zone authors on building series.

All three posts are well worth reading in full, and as always are date-linked at the end of their respect excerpts.

I see five qualities in the best series characters. If you can pack these in from the start, your task is half done. Here they are:

  1. A point of uniqueness, a quirk or style that sets them apart from everybody else

What is unique about Sherlock Holmes? He’s moody and excitable. Among the very staid English, that was different.

Jack Reacher? Come on. The guy doesn’t own a phone or clothes. He travels around with only a toothbrush. Funny how every place he goes he runs into massive trouble and very bad people.

  1. A skill at which they are really, really good

Katniss Everdeen is killer with the bow and arrow.

Harry Potter is one of the great wizards (though he has a lot to learn).

  1. A bit of the rebel

The series hero should rub up against authority, even if it’s in a quiet way, like Miss Marple muttering “Oh, dear” at the local constabulary. Hercule Poirot is a needle in the side of Inspector Japp.

  1. A vulnerable spot or character flaw

Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Cimmerian has a vicious temper that sometimes gets the better of him.

Sherlock Holmes has a drug habit.

Stephanie Plum keeps bouncing between two lovers, who complicate her life.

  1. A likable quality

Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe has some of the greatest quips in the history of crime fiction. We like them because Marlowe is also vulnerable—to getting beat up, drugged, or otherwise manhandled by forces larger than himself (like Moose Malloy).

Wit is one of the great likability factors.

Another is caring for others besides oneself. Stephanie Plum has a crazy family to care for, not to mention her sometime partner Lula.

James Scott Bell—August 13, 2017

A series is more episodic.

My Jonathan Grave thriller series is not a continuing story, but is rather a collection of stand-alone stories that involve recurring main characters.  Jonathan Grave’s character arc over the course of eleven books now is very long and slow, while the arcs of the characters he interacts with are completely developed within each book.  There are Easter eggs for readers who have read all the books in order, but I am careful to make each episode as fulfilling for a reader who picks up  Book Ten as their first exposure to the series as it is for a reader who’s been with me from the beginning.

Writers like the always-fabulous Donna Andrews write series that are driven as much by place as by characters.  The people in her fictional town of Caerphilly, Virginia, are a hoot, even though an extraordinary number of people are murdered there.

Jeffery Deaver’s Lincoln Rhyme solves a new crime by the end of every book.  While Rhyme’s medical progress as a quadriplegic is continually evolving from book to book, as is his relationship with Amelia, a new reader is well-grounded in any story, without benefit of having read the previous ones.

A stand-alone, well, stands alone.

When I finished Nathan’s Run, the story was over.  There was no place I could feasibly have taken Nathan or the other characters to tell a new story.  That was the case with each of the following three novels and, of course, with my nonfiction book.  I think the primary characteristic of a stand-alone is that “The End” means the end.  The character and story arcs have all been driven to ground.

A series takes planning.

When I was writing No Mercy, the first book in the Grave series, I knew in my heart that I had finally landed on a character who could support a series.  What I didn’t know was whether or not a publisher would buy it, and if they did, whether they’d support the idea of developing the one story into many.  Still, I made a conscious effort to plant as much fodder as I could for potential use in future stories.  For example:

  1. Jonathan is a former Delta Force operator, leaving the potential for stories dealing with his days in the Unit.
  2. His hostage rescue activities are a covert part of a legitimate private investigation firm that does work for some of the largest corporate names in the world.  This sets up potential stories set in the world of more common private investigators.
  3. Jonathan is the primary benefactor for Resurrection House, a school for the children of incarcerated parents.  When every student has parents with lots of enemies, there’s lots of potential for future stories.
  4. His home, Fisherman’s Cove, Virginia, is the town where he grew up.  This puts him in the midst of people who already know the darkest secrets of his childhood and accept him for who he is.  Or they don’t.  This sets up the potential for small  town conflicts.

John Gilstrap—November 21, 2018

From Jordan Dane:

  1. Create a large enough world to sustain a series if it gains traction by planting plot seeds and/or character spinoffs in each individual novel. With the right planted seeds, future stories can be mined for plots during the series story arcs. An example of this is Robert Crais’s Elvis Cole PI series where his main character Cole is plagued by his past and his estranged father until THE FORGOTTEN MAN, a stellar novel in the middle of the series that finally provided answers to the mystery.

Crais often plants seeds that he later cultivates in later books. It takes organization & discipline to create these mysteries and track the seeds to save for later.

  1. Endings of each novel in a continuing series are important to readers if your book release schedule has long lags in time. A major cliffhanger can be frustrating for readers to discover at the end of a book before they realize the next novel won’t be released for 6 months to a year.

If your planned series isn’t limited to a certain number of stories (ie Hunger Games – 3 novels) where the overall story arc will be defined, an author might consider writing series novels that read as standalones with a tantalizing foreshadowing of the next story to hook readers. Creating an intriguing mystery to come will pique reader’s interest, rather than frustrate them with a huge cliffhanger they may have to wait a year to read.

See these tips in action in Jordan’s Mercer’s War Series.

From James Scott Bell:

  • Give your series character one moral quest that he or she is passionate about, to the point where it feels like life and death. For example, my Mike Romeo series is about the quest for TRUTH. This is the driving force for all he does. It gives both character and plot their meaning. A quest like this will carry from book to book.
  • Give your series character at least one special skill and one special quirk. Sherlock Holmes is a skilled stick fighter (which comes in handy). But he also shoots up cocaine to keep his mind active. Mike Romeo has cage fighting skills. He also likes to quote literature and philosophy before taking out a thug.

From Joe Hartlaub:

Sue, I love Jordan’s suggestions, particularly #2, about the works being standalones with a foreshadowing of what is to come. Who among us read Stephen King’s Dark Tower trilogy and got to the end of The Dark Tower III; The Waste Land to find the cast aboard a sentient, suicidal choo-choo heading toward oblivion? That was all well and good until we all had to wait six friggin’ years to find out what happened next in Wizards and Glass. 

  • I have one suggestion, which I call the Pop Tart model. Pop Tarts started with a basic formula; they were rectangular, were small enough to fit into a toaster, large enough to pull out, used the same pastry as a base, and started with a set of fillings and slowly added more and different ones over the years. So too, the series.
  • Design a character with a skill set consisting of two or three reliable elements, decide whether you are going to make them a world-beater (Jason Bourne), a close-to-homer (Dave Robicheaux), or something in between (Jack Reacher), and bring in a couple of supporting characters who can serve as necessary foils (Hawk and Susan from the Spenser novels) who can always be repaired or replaced as necessary. Your readers will know what to expect from book to book but will be surprised by how you utilize familiar elements.

From Laura Benedict:

The best series do a good job of relationship-building, along with world-building.

  • Give your main character …
  1. someone to love and fight for,
  2. someone to regret knowing,
  3. someone to respect,
  4. someone to fear.
  • Be careful about harming your secondary characters because readers get attached. If you’re going to let a beloved character go—even a villain—make the loss mean something.

See these tips in action in The Stranger Inside.

Sue Coletta—January 14, 2019

***

  1. What do you think of Jim’s five character qualities for series characters, as a writer or a reader? Any additions?
  2. When it comes to series, again as either a writer or a reader, what do you think of the easter eggs and ongoing “fodder” John mentioned?
  3. What do you think of the advice Sue shared? Anything especially resonate with you?