“When in the course of human events, …”

I’m not a scholar of state papers, but I’ve heard it said the American Declaration of Independence is one of the most beautifully written of such documents. I read it again over the weekend and reminded myself of its eloquence and substance.

***

I also looked up the definition of the word “independence” in dictionary.com. Here’s what it had to say:

Independence. noun. freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others.

Sounds wonderful, right? But it also means the independent person or entity must take control of their own future. It’s their responsibility.

And that brings me to publishing.

***

My first novel was traditionally published. In retrospect, I think that was an excellent idea since I knew so little of what it took to publish a book. The publisher engaged a cover artist, got the ISBN, registered with the Library of Congress, arranged for the final edits, formatted the book, and did all the other jobs necessary to have it made available on retail sites. If I had tried to do all those things myself, it would have been a much longer process.

My publisher was very supportive, and I intended to publish the other novels in the series with them. However, they changed their contract, and the new one had some issues I didn’t care for. Negotiations solved some, but not all, of the problems, so my husband and I decided I should look at the possibility of going indie. James Scott Bell’s book How to Make a Living as a Writer was a wonderful resource and gave me the information and reassurance I needed to make the switch.

***

Independent publishing is great. I love being 100% responsible for the content and presentation of my books, and I love having control of my products and following their performance on a day-to-day basis. However, the learning curve was steep and the time commitment continues to be large. I have to cover all the bases, including:

• Engaging development and line/copy editors (I had always done this, so it’s not an add-on.)
• Having the final manuscript professionally proofread
• Getting the ISBN
• Establishing the prices
• Registering the copyright
• Registering with the Library of Congress
• Arranging for the front and back covers
• Formatting the content
• Distributing to various platforms including Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Apple Books, Kobo, Google Play, and Ingram Spark.

If there’s an audio book, I arrange for the narration, approve each chapter, and finalize the audio with Findaway Voices.

I also maintain the financials for our publishing company, Wordstar Publishing, LLC. I write the year-end reports, and work with our accountant to file taxes.

Is it worth it? I really do like the independence. However, I’d like to offload some of the administrative tasks, so I’m thinking of giving Draft2Digital a try to handle the distribution. That would give me more time for writing at a small cost.

Bottom line: I’m glad I went independent.

So TKZers: What are your thoughts on independence? If you’re an indie author, is it worth the extra effort? Do you pass off some of the tasks to others? If you’re traditionally published, have you ever considered going indie?

Interrogation.

Just the word elicits your vision of forcible confinement in a hot and windowless room, shoved in a wooden chair with one leg shorter than others, a bright light from a bare bulb burning over your head, and hulking forms of trench-coated detectives firing hardboiled questions in your face.

The truth is different. A lot different. There’s a high skill involved in getting useful (and courtroom admissible) information from people, and not everyone is cut out for the job. Are you? Would you be a good police interrogator?

To start, drop the “interrogation” word. It’s not correct to say “interrogation” in today’s professional police procedures. The right terms are “interview” and “dialogue exchange”. And, they’re more applicable because the vast majority of police-civilian interactions are respectful interchanges of relevant information.

I’ve spent a good part of my adult life talking to people and getting information. I learned long ago that you get more bees with honey than you do with vinegar. I also learned you slide a lot further on bullshit than you do on gravel. I made those principles the core of my information-gathering days. I also practiced another fundamental rule. That’s that the best interrogators interviewers are the best listeners.

Where’s this going? I subscribe to Psychology Today. I recently read a piece by Mary Ellen O’Toole, Ph.D. in her regular column Criminal Minds where she set out ten questions with graded responses to her Are You A Good Listener Test. Dr. Mary Ellen O’Toole was a senior profiler at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit and author of Dangerous Instincts: How Gut Feelings Betray Us. Here’s her short ten-question exam to see if you would be a good police interrogator. Sorry… police interviewer.

ARE YOU A GOOD LISTENER TEST

1.Typically, how emotional (frightened, insecure, angry, etc.) do I get when I am attempting to interview someone? (Rate this on a scale of 1-3)

1 = very emotional
2 = nonemotional and detached
3 = I remain interested and tempered

2. Typically, how often do I interrupt?

1 = several times during a conversation
2 = just once or twice during a conversation
3 = almost never

3. Do I say things like “What? You have got to be kidding me,” – or- “That reminds me of the time I…” – or – “You think that’s bad, let me tell you about…”

1 = frequently
2 = sometimes
3 = rarely

4. Do I roll my eyes, put my head down, shake my head back and forth, throw myself back in my chair, turn away, get up and walk away, show signs of anger or threatening behavior, or otherwise display that I am not paying attention or do not like what the other person is saying?

1 = frequently
2 = sometimes
3 = rarely

5. Do I fidget until people stop talking and then immediately respond without considering what they’ve said?

1= frequently
2 = sometimes
3 = rarely

6. Do I let my mind wander to all the other things on my “to do” list and keep thinking that I just don’t have the time for this?

1 = frequently
2 = sometimes
3 = rarely

7. Do I wait until the nanosecond when the speaker goes to take a breath to pounce on him or her with my opinions?

1 = frequently
2 = sometimes
3 = rarely

8. Do I hijack the conversation? For instance by saying something like, “Look we’ve been over this a million times. Your ideas are just not going to work. This is what we are going to do.”

1 = frequently
2 = sometimes
3 = rarely

9. I reflect the person’s thoughts and feelings back to the person I am listening to.

1 = rarely
2 = sometimes
3 = frequently

10. I ask open-ended questions to encourage the other person to talk.

1 = rarely
2 = sometimes
3 = frequently

 Total Score = ______

The higher the score – the better your listening skills tend to be and the better interrogator interviewer you would be. Note: This is not a scientific test and has not been validated or otherwise vetted. These opinions are those of Dr. O’Toole and do not represent the views of the FBI.

My experience is that the key to successful information gathering is simply listening to what’s being said. Does it make sense? Does it fit? Does it make you ask more questions? Or does what’s being said to you satisfy what you’re after? Another Note: Police interviews/dialogue exchanges are all about getting the truth. Contrary to conspiracy theories, no good cop wants a false confession.

Kill Zoners – Let us know how you scored on the test!

By John Gilstrap

Forgive me as I begin this week’s post with some shameless self-promotion. This is Launch Week for the latest in my Jonathan Grave thriller series (#14!). It’s called Lethal Game, and you should be able to find it at your bookseller of choice. From the Marketing Department:

Hostage rescue expert Jonathan Grave and his fellow special-ops veteran, Boxers, are hunting in Montana when shots ring out, and they realize they’ve become the prey for assassins. In the crosshairs of unseen shooters, cut off from all communication, with the wind at a blood-freezing chill, the nightmare is just beginning. Because Jonathan and Boxers aren’t the only ones under fire. Back in Fisherman’s Cove, Virginia, Jonathan’s Security Solutions team is fighting for their lives too. A vicious onslaught is clearing the way for a much bigger game by eliminating anyone in the way. If Jonathan and Boxers can make it out of the wilderness alive, the real war will begin.

Now we return to our regularly scheduled programming . . .

Full disclosure: I posted a piece very similar to this back in 2017, but the concept of “voice” in fiction is a subject that many new writers struggle to understand, and that is, quite frankly, difficult to teach. It’s a worthy topic to revisit occasionally.

We all learn that the elements of a story are plot, setting and character. If not taught and learned carefully, these can seem like separate elements–separate threads, if you will–but for a story to work, they can’t be treated as such. The elements of story are less a quilt than it is a tapestry, and the subtle weave that combines the elements into something beautiful is the author’s voice, as presented to the reader through the point of view characters

So, rather than thinking of those story elements as separate threads, let’s readjust the whole concept of those elements. Let’s think this way: for a story to fulfill its promise to the reader, it must chronicle compelling characters doing interesting things in interesting ways in interesting settings, all of which is presented in an engaging voice.

Maybe this analogy is clearer. When you go to buy paint at the hardware store and you ask for the color European Autumn Sunshine (or whatever), the guy in the apron starts with a white base and then adds some blue and some red and whatever other colors, and only after its shaken does the color you want appear. Those component colors are your story elements. Your narrative voice is the shaker that gives you the shade you’re looking for.

As an illustration, let’s say that your POV character, Bob, finds himself broken down in the desert. In a descriptive essay, you would write about the colors and the temperature and the wildlife as the entities that they are. But to make that setting part of the story, it’s a mistake to forget about the character. It’s a mistake to leave the action to describe the scene. So, give those elements a ride in the paint shaker:

Option One:

Bob pushed the car door open and climbed out into the heat.  Shielding his eyes, he scanned the horizon.  Rock formations glistened in shades of copper, gold and bronze.  The vegetation, while sparse, seemed to vibrate with shades of red and blue and yellow.  He was stranded in an artist’s paradise but he’d left his oils and brushes in the hotel room.

In this version, while we’re being introduced to the setting, we’re also learning something about Bob.  Perhaps he’s a romantic.  He’s certainly observant.

Now, consider this:

As Bob opened the door, super heated air hit him with what felt like a physical blow.  It took his breath away. The desiccated ground cracked under his feet as he stood, and as he scanned the scrub growth and rocky horizon, he’ slipped a few rungs down on the food chain. No wonder we tested nukes in places like this. How the hell was he going to get out of here?  

The setting in these two examples is the same.  The action is the same.  Both examples advance the story–whatever that may be–exactly the same distance.  But the voices–the critical element in pulling off third person POV–are different.  Notice that there’s no need to say that Bob #1 is a fan of the desert, or that Bob #2 is not.  That’s because the descriptions are all filtered for the reader through the character’s point of view.

In an effective story, every word of every sentence and every sentence of every paragraph should advance not just plot or character or setting, but all of these at the same time.

In my seminars, I ask students to take five or six minutes to describe the place of the class–room, building, campus, town, whatever they choose–and through the description alone, convey the character of the narrator.  It’s a worthwhile exercise, especially for writers like me, who works hard to be invisible on the page, leaving all of the storytelling to the characters.

“I don’t know whether every author feels it, but I think quite a lot do — that I am pretending to be something I am not, because, even nowadays, I do not quite feel as though I am an author.” — Agatha Christie

By PJ Parrish

Well, the book is almost done. First draft, that is. I haven’t read it completely through, chapter 1 through 45, since we started the thing, oh, maybe a year ago? Yes, it has taken me that long to get back in the saddle again.

I’m always preaching here that you need to periodically go back and review (and even rework) what you’ve been doing. Sure, you should always be moving forward, but it’s helpful to pause and see if you’re on the right track. I didn’t do that this time.

Why?

I’ve been afraid to. I have this really bad feeling that, having finally reached 110,045 words, what I have created is a heaping, stinking, fetid, rancid mountain of crap. I dream about it now, this mountain of crap, like Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I wake up in a sweat over it.

My only consolation is knowing that I feel this way with every book. And that I am not alone. Here’s John Connelly talking about his own demons: “There is always that fear that this book, this story, is the one that should not have been started. The idea isn’t strong enough. The plot is going nowhere. I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way and now have to try to find the right path again.”

Here’s Lee Goldberg, whose career has been long and varied, with Hollywood-assignations and a fruitful collaboration with Janet Evanovich:  “This happens to me…but less often if I have a strong outline to start with (though an outline is no insurance policy against realizing 35,000 words into your book that it’s crap and you’re a complete fraud). In talking with other writers, I’ve noticed that the ones who hit the wall the most are the ones who make up their plot as they go along, preferring to be ‘surprised’ by their characters and the turns in the story. Of course, this means the turns may lead to a creative dead end.”

And lastly, I give you no less than Maya Angelou: “Each time I write a book, every time I face that yellow pad, the challenge is so great. I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out.'”

My night terrors are especially bad this time out for two reasons. I don’t have a publisher right now and though this is a sequel to our Thomas & Mercer thriller She’s Not There, I don’t know if they’ll want it. Second, this is another new protagonist, so I don’t have the comfort of knowing his heart and soul as I do that of Louis Kincaid, the hero of our long-standing series. Can this new guy, a bit of an ornery misfit,  carry the story or will he put off readers? Will our Louis readers follow us to the new one? Have we run out of good plots? Have we finally hurdled the hammerhead?

I don’t know, maybe there are writers out there who never have any doubts. Maybe Nora Roberts or Joan Didion never broke out in a cold sweat at night. But I suspect there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of you out there who are in the same sweaty boat as I am. There’s a fancy name for this — imposter syndrome. Basically, it is a pattern of beating up on yourself. You have this nagging feeling that you’ll be found out, that people will read your stuff and you’ll be revealed as a charlatan. Don’t look over your shoulder because someone is laughing. Worse, you agree with this.

How do you know if you’ve got IS?

• You constantly criticize your own work.
• You procrastinate
• You focus on rewriting instead of moving forward.

I do all three. Did I mention I am a perfectionist? I sweat every word to the point that it sometimes squeezes the simple joy of creation out of me. If you find yourself at that point, stop, take a deep breath and do whatever you need to recapture the sweet impulse that made you want to write in the first place. For me, this usually means a very long walk in the woods.

A few more pieces of advice before I go and start reading my first draft:

Voice your fears. Feeling like you’re alone is terrifying. Talk to someone you trust. A critique group is really helpful here, as long as it is positive-oriented and not a slash-and-burn tribunal that picks on your scabby semi-colons, or a pity-party where everyone whines about being shut out by the publishing cabal.

Remember where you came from. Recognize and applaud your progress. Sometimes this means re-reading your early unsuccessful efforts and learning from them. Cleaning out my office recently, I found an old partial manuscript on an external storage drive. It was my first effort when I was making the switch from romance to mystery. I didn’t have anyone turn up dead until chapter 12. Everything was back story and my opening chapter was nothing but my heroine, an ex-homicide cop, sitting in a fishing boat in the Everglades thinking about how lousy her life was. It was bloody awful. It made me feel terrific.

Accept that sometimes you’ll suck.  It’s okay to write junk. We all do it. It’s part of the learning process. Some days, you get in that zone and everything you type is spun gold. Yay for you. But most days, you will write a lot of garbage just to get a couple good paragraphs. I took up pickleball a couple years back. I used to be really bad but now I’m pretty good. Why? Because I listened to my coaches, and I am mastering the technique. But this morning, I slid back into suckitude.  Luckily, writing, unlike pickleball, is a private endeavor and no one sees our sucky efforts. Here’s the thing: You have to suck at writing before you get good enough to produce something that readers don’t think sucks.

Keep writing. Don’t let your self doubts corrode your love of writing. The only way to become a better writer is to become a more prolific writer. You will improve your technique, you’ll get better at your craft. But only if you keep going. Like any skill, the more you do it, the better you’ll get.  I promise.

Geez. I just re-read what I’ve written here. It sounds pretty negative, but that’s not really where I am right now. The hard part is over. I’ve finished. That’s something to celebrate, even if my book doesn’t find a publisher. So forgive me for focusing on the cloud instead of celebrating the breakthrough rays of sunshine. Move forward, and always with hope.

As for those night terrors? I won’t lie. If you really want this writing gig, you might have to deal with them on occasion. If, like me, you’ve spent some nights twisting in damp percal, I offer the same three words of advice I give to my youthful female friends about menopause: moisture wicking pajamas. Cool Jams makes great ones.