I have a confession to make. Since about 2009, I’ve been leading a secret life.

As a woman.

Yes, it’s true. Several years back I was working a day job and writing my novels for St. Martins at night and was so exhausted all the time I could barely form a response to anyone who asked me what time it was. And if I managed, it was usually “Bedtime.”

Life as a midlist author for one of the Big Five is not all champagne and roses. My advances were decent, but not fantastic. And spread out over a couple of years, the royalties they were doling out were not enough to sustain my hedonistic lifestyle. I mean, Ferraris are expensive to maintain.

So I knew I had to do something to make the leap from day job zombie caffeine addict to full-time writer zombie caffeine addict and the only way to do that would be a) drink more coffee; and b) find more writing work.

And since we’re supposed to be talking about writing here, I’ll spare you my opinion on Jamaica Blue Mountain beans and tell you about the finding more work part.

Oh, and the woman part, too. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten about that.

You see, many of my writer friends are women. And many of those woman work in the world of romance, specifically the world of Harlequin romance. Some of them work for a line called Harlequin Intrigue, which is all about romantic suspense, and the emphasis on suspense over romance is completely up to the author.

When I asked my buddy Debra Webb (the Queen of Intrigue) if any men ever write for the line, she told me they did indeed and “Oh, my God, you should write for them! I’ll introduce you to my editor!”

The next thing I knew I was writing an outline and sample chapters and within a month I was working for Intrigue under a female pen name that I will happily reveal to anyone willing to pay me a hundred bucks, so long as you promise not to reveal the secret (hey, I’ve gotta make money SOMEHOW).

Anyway, I was attracted to Intrigue because the books are only about 50,000 words long, fairly linear, and I figured I’d be able to bang them out pretty quickly and earn enough extra money to dump the day job.

And I was right. Thanks to Harlequin and a very nice deal with Penguin, I was able to do just that.

But I had one very small problem…

I’ve never been what you’d call a fast writer. So now I was in a situation where I had to not only write a big 150,000 word apocalyptic novel for Penguin, I also had to do a couple of those 50,000 word romancers.

Had I just shot myself in the foot? Painted myself into a corner? Taken a long walk off a short—you get the point. Choose your own cliché.

Ever since I started writing, I’ve been a pantser. I come up with an idea, kinda sorta figure out who the main character is, then sit down and start writing. I had tried outlining many, many times (just like all the writing books say we should) and I just couldn’t stand to do them. My eyes would glaze over after three paragraphs.

Isn’t writing supposed to be fun?

But for the Harlequin Intrigue audition I had no choice but to write that outline and three sample chapters. It was full proposal or don’t bother auditioning. They weren’t going to hire me simply because they liked my Facebook page. (Or maybe in was MySpace in those days.)

When it came time to actually write the book, however, I discovered something quite wonderful. Because I had worked everything out in that outline, all I really had to do was, as they say, “word it in,” and I managed to bang that thing out in record time.

From there on out, I was a convert. At least when it came to Harlequin romances. I still wrote (and continue to write) my Robert Gregory Browne books by the seat of my pants (except for one exception I won’t get into here), but the Intrigues were all outlined first. Even after my editor said all she needed was a paragraph from me. I would write a ten to twenty page outline for myself, because I had to write those suckers fast.

I think the fastest I ever went from outline to finished book was about two and a half weeks. I’m no John Creasey, but I think 50K words in that amount of time is pretty damn fast.

So if you’re concerned about your snail’s pace as a writer, just know that as much as you might hate them, outlines can certainly be your friend.

Now that I’ve said goodbye to Intrigue, I still loath outlines and avoid them completely.

But that doesn’t mean you have to.

By Kathryn Lilley

Today, we’re critiquing the first page of a story called AMERICAN LIONS, submitted anonymously by a TKZ reader. I’ll kick off the discussion with my feedback, and then I invite you to add your notes and constructive criticism in the Comments.

American Lions

“You remember Spag, don’t you?” Aunt Julie asked Nora for about the hundreth time that morning. She asked it when she got Nora and Myra out of bed, when she rushed them out of their house, when she drove them across town, and now as they walked into the Filler Up truck stop. She nodded her head as she asked, “Don’t you remember him?”

I don’t know, Aunt Julie.” What kind of a name is Spag, anyway? “Why are we here? My mom needs me. And Myra can’t miss any more school. They’ll send a truancy officer to our house. He’ll ask questions.”

Stop worrying, Nora. Let the adults handle this.”

Nora had never been to a truck stop before. Aunt Julie said they were going to have breakfast there. Nora scanned the room. It was crowded with rowdy men seated at round tables in the center of the room, men stuffed into booths along both sides. At the far end, Nora could see a kitchen through a cut out in the wall. A row of men sat at a counter facing the kitchen. From the back, the men looked pretty much the same. The had short hair and and were hunched over their plates, or reading newspapers and drinking coffee. But there was one man who sat facing away from the kitchen, toward the entrance. His hair was shoulder length and layered in the current style. Nora studied his features for something familiar. Then she saw him looking back at her and she moved behind Aunt Julie.

“There he is.” Aunt Julie said and the man and he hurried over to her.

“He looks like Rick Springfield,” Myra said.

“Myra, Nora, this is the friend I was telling you about. Remember him now?”

He said to Aunt Julie, “What are they doing here?”

Nora moved close to Aunt Julie and said, “But this place, is it safe?”

“They’re truckers, Nora. You’ll be with Spag.”

“Now wait a minute, Julie. You asked me to meet you here and you put me on baby sitting duty? I thought you were in trouble, I thought you needed my help.”

“I do. I need you to stay with the girls. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“But I can help, Aunt Julie. Don’t leave me here.” She’s my mother. She needs me. This morning was the worse I have ever seen her.

~~~~

My comments

Some distracting technical issues made it difficult at times for me to follow what was happening in this scene.

Setting the stage in the first paragraph: crowd control

The first paragraph introduces (or makes reference to) a total of four characters–Aunt Julie, Nora, Myra, and Spag. I had trouble visualizing who was actually visible in this scene as it opened–there is not enough information provided to orient the reader in the scene. I had to backtrack and reread the first paragraph in order to sort out who was doing what. (Tip: As a general rule, try to lImit the focus of action in each paragraph to a maximum of two characters.)

Cue the reader when the dialogue or focus shifts to a different character

Whenever a new character begins speaking or the scene’s focus shifts to that character, the writer needs to cue the reader that a shift is taking place. For example, in the second paragraph, a new character is speaking, so the dialogue should open with an opening quotation mark.

“I don’t know, Aunt Julie.”

Focus on action/reaction

It would strengthen the scene to include more reaction and characterization for the character named Spag. Show him reacting to the children and sizing up the situation as he realizes he’s being thrust into babysitting duty.

Avoid distracting POV wobbles

I got slightly disoriented by some of the point of view transitions.  Sometimes Nora’s point of view is presented in third-person, as follows.

Nora moved closer to Aunt Julie…

Sometimes the POV shifted to first person, focusing on Nora’s internal thoughts as in the following.

This morning was the worst I have ever seen her. 

(Yes, it’s possible to shift the point of view within a story, but the way it’s done here added to my overall feeling of disorientation within this scene.)

Keep track of characters

The character Myra was briefly mentioned in the first paragraph, but not in a way that established her physically within the scene. I was a bit startled  therefore when Myra popped up later on in the scene to contribute the Rick Springfield observation, (I also had to look up Rick Springfield to identify him. Would a young child know who RIck Springfield is, btw?)

If you are going to re-introduce a character who has been silent or missing for several sentences or paragraphs, you need to re-establish that character in the reader’s mind. Something like,

Myra, who’d remained silent during our discussion, jumped in to deliver the final verdict.

“He looks like Rick Springfield,” she said.

Edit out repetitive language and extraneous words

We all have a tendency to repeat certain words and phrases. The fifth paragraph contains an extraneous phrase “and the man”, and the repeated phrase “Nora moved behind Aunt Julia” are examples here.

Overall

The nice thing about technical difficulties is that they’re easily fixed with editing. An editing pass will eliminate most of the issues I’ve mentioned.

After reading this scene, I’m not sure what type of story this will turn out to be. Once the technical issues are fixed, the writer can concentrate on bringing the characters and story into stronger focus.

Please add your constructive feedback in the Comments, and thanks to our brave writer for submitting today’s first page for critique!

Being a new writer is a good thing. We all wore that name tag when we began our writing journey.

The goal, however, is to hide that fact as we write stories we intend to submit and publish. Anything that exposes inexperience is a bad thing, sometimes leading to rejection, or if not that, to harsh judgment from readers and reviewers. If your story is on the bubble, this can be the thing that pushes it over the edge… in the wrong direction.

There are lots of ways to screw up a novel, not all of them unique to rookies and well-intentioned sophomore authors. But perhaps the most fertile ground to find evidence of one’s newbie status is within how we write and present dialogue.

Let’s be clear, dialogue is easy to write. But it’s extremely hard to write it really well. 

When that happens, careers can explode. Dialogue is a place to shine, to stylize narrative in a way that would put non-dialogue sentences over the top into a universe shaded with hues of purple and riddled with bleeding adjectives and screaming adverbs.

Okay, that sentence came close to just that. Not an accident. I wanted you to notice before you winced.

On the other hand, bad dialogue, the kind that sounds like it came from a bad elementary school play, the kind punctuated by someone who never met a comma, can tank your story altogether.

Within the vast minefield of dialogue there are a handful of common mistakes that scream “rookie writer… run!”  Over the past few years there have been more than a few terrific Kill Zone posts on the subject, my favorite being coverage of the tricky task of attribution. I won’t rehash all the ways this can make you look bad – use the Search function for some good stuff on this topic – but there is another pesky tendency that is most commonly evidenced by newer writers especially.

Which is why this is a case of principle trumping evidence to the contrary, in the form of this mistake occasionally appearing within traditionally-published novels, which employ professionals editors who are paid to – but not always successful at catching – eradicated before warming up the printing presses.

This, too, involves the use of character names.

Not as attribution, but rather, within dialogue itself in the form on one character addressing and acknowledging the other. It is best defined with an example. See if this is like any conversation you’ve ever heard in real life, and then ask yourself if you’ve ever written something just like it.

“Hey Dave, good to see you, man!”

“Steve, you old dog, you look terrific.”

“You know Dave, I’m feeling okay. Especially after… well, you know how it goes, right Dave?”

“I sure do, Steve. Been there, survived that.”

“Just shoot me if you ever hear about me having to do that again, okay Dave?”

“Will do, Steve. Count on it.”

“Thanks Dave. You’re a prince.”

“No problems, Steve. You’d do the same for me.”

Okay, I know, that was painful to read. And not just because of this demonstration of how all those names within the exchange create a totally false, less-than-authentic cadence while lending a corny, fifties-television vibe to it all.

But this happens all the time in manuscripts written by newer writers. And occasionally in novels written by authors and edited by editors who should know better.

In every workshop there is one guy who throws up a hand right about here in this discussion, so allow me to address that one next.

Certainly, there are instances in real life when the use of the name of the recipient of your words is called for. Like passing someone on the street who doesn’t see you, so you call out their name to get their attention. Or if you’re a supervisor chewing out a rascal employee (even then, only once is enough).

That said, listen closely to the real world in which you live. Chances are you can go months without hearing this. Which should reinforce the fact that you should go decades without having one your characters talk this way to another one of your characters.

Ah, April 15. Why does this date create images in my mind like, oh, a pie with a slice cut out of it? Dunno.

Anyway, I’m also reminded of a TV show years ago called The Millionaire. A guy would show up at some person’s door and hand them a check for a million dollars, taxes “already paid.” The rich man behind this scheme wanted to see what an ordinary person would do with sudden wealth.

So if someone were to offer you a million bucks tax free, but with the condition that you never write fiction again … would you take it?

And what’s the first thing you’d do with a mil?

By Elaine Viets

I love movie car chases. Nothing beats “Bullitt,” with Steve McQueen’s Mustang hurtling down the San Francisco hills. Michael Caine’s crafty Mini Cooper mixup in “The Italian Job” is another classic.

But traditional mysteries can have car chases, too. I wanted a car chase in The Art of Murder, my new Dead-End Job mystery. My private eye, Helen Hawthorne, doesn’t drive a muscle car. Good detectives have to blend in. In South Florida, that often means a white car. Helen has a white four-cylinder PT Cruiser.

Steve McQueen would weep.
But I got my car chase, thanks to an equalizer – speed bumps. The extra-wide ones, a.k.a. traffic calmers or “speed humps.” (Cue the risque jokes.)These speed bumps are in a lush Fort Lauderdale neighborhood known as The Landings, where residents dock their yachts out their back doors.

I can’t reveal the killer’s name, gender, or vehicle model, but here’s The Art of Murder car chase in The Landings. Watch that yacht. It will be in the car chase, too.

The Art of Murder Car Chase
The killer roared out of the driveway toward The Landings, blasting across Commercial Boulevard as the light turned yellow. Helen followed, accompanied by a chorus of car horns and upraised middle digits.

This wasn’t a fair race. Helen knew her trusty Igloo was seriously underpowered. The killer’s car had twice as many horses as the PT Cruiser. The killer floored the car and it flew over the north bridge into The Landings. Helen’s Igloo tried its best to keep up, but its workhorse engine was no match for the powerful car. Still, Helen floored her Cruiser.
And saw the speeding car slam on its brakes.

The speed bumps! Suddenly this pursuit was almost fair. The sports car raced forward again, then slammed on its brakes for a bump. Race and brake. Race and brake.
The odd stop and sprint chase continued for four speed bumps, with Helen’s intrepid Igloo managing to keep pace.

Helen struggled to push her car on the straightaway and spot the speed bumps in time to brake. The two cars lurched through The Landings.

After the fourth speed bump, the killer powered through a four-way stop to the angry blare of honking horns. Helen made a full stop.

She waited her turn for two cars, then crossed the intersection and floored the Igloo again. Her finger pressed SEND for 911. I should have called the police sooner, she thought. I can’t let the killer escape.

The killer was turning left at the next block. There were no speed bumps on that street. It bordered a canal. Helen was going to lose the killer.

She could hear the 911 operator saying, “Nine one one, what’s your emergency. Nine one one . . . ”

“Help!” Helen shouted into her. “I’m pursuing a killer in The Landings. I’m almost at Fifty-sixth. Get the police here. I can’t talk.”

Helen slammed the brakes again, and the Igloo jounced over the speed bump. Her cell phone clattered to the floor. Helen could hear the 911 operator and hoped the woman believed her plea for help.

Up ahead, she saw the killer make a screeching turn on two wheels, heading straight for a yellow moving van with its ramp down, parked in the street. The killer swerved to avoid it, and nearly hit a pony-tailed woman walking her fluffy white shih-tzu.

The killer swerved again, narrowly missing the woman and her little dog.

And the accident seemed to happen in slow motion.

The killer lost control of the car on the small humped canal bridge. It sailed over the bridge railing and crashed into the white yacht tied up at a backyard dock. The front end of the car smashed through the yacht’s pristine white hull. The car’s back end was on the dock, sliding toward the water.

A screeching, cracking sound split the air as several million dollars collided.

The Art of Murder is my fifteenth Dead-End Job mystery. Helen Hawthorne and her landlady, Margery Flax, tour Bonnet House, the whimsical mansion-turned-museum in Fort Lauderdale and admire an up-and-coming artist at a museum painting class. When the talented artist is murdered, Helen is hired to find her killer. She discovers the artist’s sketchy past. Was the promising painter killed by her jealous husband? A rival using her artful wiles? All that and a car chase-boat crash, too.

Pre-order The Art of Murder