Hooks, Lines And Stinkers

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By PJ Parrish

The opening line of a book is the single hardest line you write.

Many writers would disagree with that. But for my money, those folks are: A. lucky devils for whom all things come easy; B. diligent do-bees who can scribble down anything just to get started and then go back and rewrite or C. writers who aren’t really very good at what they do or maybe are just phoning it in.

I know, that sounds a little harsh. But I truly believe this. I have such respect and, yes, envy for writers who create great openings. I am not talking about “hooks.” Hooks are easy. I am firmly of the mind that anyone can write a decent hook. You’ve seen them, those clever one-liners tossed out by wise-ass PIs, those archly ironic first-person soliloquies, those purple-prose weather reports that substitute for mood.

No, not hooks. I’m talking about those rare and glorious opening moments that are telling us, “OO-heee, something special is about to happen here!”

We here at TKZ talk alot about great openings, especially for our First Page Critiques. We worry about whether we should throw out a corpse in the first chapter, whether one-liners are best, if readers’ attention spans are too short for a slow burn beginning.

A great opening goes beyond its ability to keep the reader just turning the pages. A great opening is a book’s soul in miniature. Within those first few paragraphs — sometimes buried, sometimes artfully disguised, sometimes signposted — are all the seeds of theme, style and most powerfully, the very voice of the writer herself.

It’s like you’re whispering in the reader’s ear as he cracks the spine and turns to Page 1: “This is the world I am taking you into. This is what I want to tell you. You won’t understand it all until you are done but this is a hint of what I have in store for you.”

Which is why, this week, I have been staring at a blank computer screen. I am trying to start a new book. (Yeah, I know I told you I am retired, but the urge is still there.) I have a good idea. I have outlined in my head the first couple chapters. But I don’t have a first line.

I sit here, staring at my blank Word document, as that cursed cursor blinks like a yellow traffic light in a bad noir novel.  I NEED that one line because it’s not just an opening, it’s a promise. A promise to a reader that what I am about to give them is worth their time, is something they haven’t seen before, is something that is…uniquely me.

Well, shoot. I’m rambling. I’ll let Joan Didion explain it. I have a feeling she gave this a lot more thought than I have:

Q: You have said that once you have your first sentence you’ve got your piece. That’s what Hemingway said. All he needed was his first sentence and he had his short story.

Didion: What’s so hard about that first sentence is that you’re stuck with it. Everything else is going to flow out of that sentence. And by the time you’ve laid down the first two sentences, your options are all gone.

Q: The first is the gesture, the second is the commitment.

Didion: Yes, and the last sentence in a piece is another adventure. It should open the piece up. It should make you go back and start reading from page one. That’s how it should be, but it doesn’t always work. I think of writing anything at all as a kind of high-wire act. The minute you start putting words on paper you’re eliminating possibilities.

Didion gave this interview around the time she published her great memoir after her husband’s death The Year of Magical Thinking. The first line of that book is: “Life changes fast.”

Maybe I am more hung up than usual on openings because I have read some really bad opening lines. I won’t embarrass the writers here because they are still alive and I believe in karma. Oh what the hell, I will give you one because this writer deserves to be shamed:

As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that this would be the one man who would understand – who would take her away from all this – and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had.

Okay, I cheated. That is one of the winners from the  Bulwer-Lytton bad writing (on purpose) contest. But didn’t you believe for just a moment there it was real?

Let’s move on to some good stuff. Right now, I am re-reading Jeffrey Eugenides’s Middlesex. Look at his opening line:

I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974.

There, in that one deceivingly simple declarative sentence lies the all tenderness, irony and roiling epic scope of Eugenides’s story. And I don’t even care that he used semi-colons.

And then there’s this one:

The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call “out there.”

That’s from Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. This is the first line of a long paragraph of description that opens the book, yet look at what it accomplishes — puts us down immediately in his setting, conveys the book’s bleak mood and hints with those two words “out there” that he is taking us to an alien place where nothing makes sense — the criminal mind.

What is so terrifying about openings, I suppose, is that you only have so much space to work with. And, as Didion said, once you’ve moved deeper into that first chapter, that golden moment of anticipation is gone and then you are busily engaging all the gears to move the reader onward.

I read a lot of crime novels. I do this to keep up with what’s going on in our business but I also do it out of pleasure. But too many of them rely on cheap hooks. That said, here are a couple good openings from books I pulled off my crime shelf.

  • We were about to give up and call it a night when somebody dropped a girl off the bridge. — John D. MacDonald,  Darker Than Amber
  • They threw me off the hay truck about noon. — James M. McCain, The Postman Always Rings Twice
  • The girl was saying goodbye to her life. And it was no easy farewell. — Val McDermid,  A Place of Execution.
  • I turned the Chrysler onto the Florida Turnpike with Rollo Kramer’s headless body in the trunk, and all the time I’m thinking I should’ve put some plastic down. — Victor Gischler, Gun Monkeys.

Not bad for one-liners. Then there are the more measured openings:

Death is my beat. I make my living from it. I forge my professional reputation on it. I treat it with the passion and precision of an undertaker – somber and sympathetic about it when I’m with the bereaved, a skilled craftsman with it when I’m alone. I’ve always thought the secret of dealing with death was to keep it at arm’s length. That’s the rule. Don’t let it breathe in your face.

But my rule didn’t protect me.

That’s from Mike Connelly’s The Poet and it works because it succinctly captures his protagonist’s voice and the theme of the story.

I think this blog post has been therapeutic for me. I think I am going to quit obsessing about the first line and just get the story up and moving. The more I get to know my characters, the more they will open up to me. Maybe one of them will whisper that golden opening line. I can’t remember the exact quote, but Joyce Carol Oates has said that until she knows the ending of her story, she doesn’t know how to start.

I get that. As weird and convoluted as this might sound, sometimes you have to write the last line before you can write the first. Sort of like Picasso signing his painting. Because what a great opening but the writer’s true signature?

Redux: Can Multitasking Harm the Brain?

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When I realized Labor Day landed on my Monday, I panicked. I’m in the middle of packing, as I write this, and have nothing prepared. Hence the redux of an older post but one that still pertains to all of us. For those who celebrate, hope you’re enjoying a fun and safe holiday weekend!

Writers need to multitask. If you struggle with multitasking, don’t be too hard on yourself. The brain is not wired to complete more than one task at peak level. A recent study in the journal Frontiers in Human Neuroscience showed when we’re concentrating on a task that involves sight, the brain will automatically decrease our hearing.

“The brain can’t cope with too many tasks: only one sense at a time can perform at its peak. This is why it’s not a good idea to talk on the phone while driving.” — Professor Jerker Rönnberg of Linköping University, who conducted the study.

The results of this study show that if we’re subjected to sound alone, the brain activity in the auditory cortex continues without any problems. But when the brain is given a visual task, such as writing, the response of the nerves in the auditory cortex decreases, and hearing becomes impaired.

As the difficulty of the task increases—like penning a novel—the nerves’ response to sound decreases even more. Which explains how some writers wear headphones while writing. The music becomes white noise.

For me, once I slide on the headphones, the world around me fades away. I can’t tell you the number of times a family member has strolled into my office, and I practically jump clean out of my skin. Don’t be surprised if someday they kill me by giving me a heart attack. But it isn’t really their fault. I’m in the zone, headphones on, music blaring, my complete attention on that screen, and apparently, my brain decreased my ability to hear.

Strangely enough, I don’t listen to music while researching. When I need to read and absorb content, I need silence. This quirk never made sense to me. Until now.

Have you ever turned down the radio while searching for a specific house number or highway exit?

Instinctively, you’re helping your brain to concentrate on the visual task.

Research shows that our brains are not nearly as good at handling multiple tasks as we like to think they are. In fact, some researchers suggest multitasking can actually reduce productivity by as much as 40% (for everyone except Rev; he’s a multitasking God). Multitaskers have more trouble tuning out distractions than people who focus on one task at a time. Doing many different things at once can also impair cognitive ability.

Shocking, right?

Multitasking certainly isn’t a new concept, but the constant streams of information from numerous different sources do represent a relatively new problem. While we know that all this “noise” is not good for productivity, is it possible that it could also injure our brains?

Multitasking in the brain is managed by executive functions that control and manage cognitive processes and determine how, when, and in what order certain tasks are performed. According to Meyer, Evans, and Rubinstein, there are two stages to the executive control process.

  • Goal shifting: Deciding to do one thing instead of another
  • Role activation: Switching from the rules for the previous task to the rules for the new task (like writing vs. reading)Moving through these steps may only add a few tenths of a second, but it can start to add up when people repeatedly switch back and forth. This might not be a big deal if you’re folding laundry and watching TV at the same time. However, where productivity is concerned, wasting even small amounts of time could be the difference between writing a novel in months vs. years.

Multitasking Isn’t Always Bad

Some research suggests that people who engage in media multitasking, like listening to music through headphones while using a computer, might be better at integrating visual and auditory information. Study participants between the ages of 19 and 28 were asked to complete questionnaires regarding their media usage.

The participants completed a visual search task both with and without a sound to indicate when the item changed color. Heavy multitaskers performed better when sound was presented, indicating they were more adept at integrating the two sources of sensory information. Conversely, heavy multitaskers performed worse than light/medium multitaskers when the tone was not present.

I can attest to that. If I don’t have my headphones on, chances are I won’t hit my writing goals that day. I’ve conditioned my brain to focus when the music starts. And I store a spare set of headphones in case mine break. Learned that little lesson the hard way.

“Although the present findings do not demonstrate any causal effect, they highlight an interesting possibility of the effect of media multitasking on certain cognitive abilities, multisensory integration in particular. Media multitasking may not always be a bad thing,” the authors noted.

How can writers multitask and still be productive?

  • Limit the numbers of things we juggle to two (*laughter erupts in the audience*)
  • Use the “20-minute rule.” Instead of constantly switching between tasks, devote your full attention to one task for 20 minutes before switching to the next task.

What do you think about these studies? How well do you multitask?

Because of my holiday plans, I may be late responding to comments, but don’t let that stop you from sharing your thoughts.

Writing With Alert Watchfulness

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

The first time I rode a motorcycle I ran into a fence.

One of my college roommates, Rick, got a bike. One day I asked him if I could try it. He showed me the basics of clutch and throttle. No problem. At the time I was driving my dad’s old three-on-the-tree Ford Maverick. I knew the drill.

Only it’s different when it’s your first time using hands instead of feet. I let the clutch out too fast and twisted the throttle too hard. I lurched forward and before I could turn I rammed into a wooden fence. The bike listed and jammed my right ankle into a post.

When Rick stopped laughing he suggested I sign up for lessons with the local CHP.

I thought about that experience the other day while reading The World Beyond Your Head by Matthew B. Crawford. It’s about authentic identity getting lost in the midst of the noise and distraction of our digital age. We have what Crawford calls a “crisis of attention” which leads to fractured perceptions of the world. Crawford contrasts that with the intense concentration required of an ice-hockey player, a short-order cook, or the maker of fine pipe organs.

Also, Motocross champions. To compete at the top level, you have to develop what is called “alert watchfulness without meddling.” This makes possible a focus on what’s immediate and consequential, like an unforeseen bump in the track. In other words, you no longer need to stress about clutch and throttle; those are ingrained. Instead you rely on an intuition formed by long experience. Crawford explains:

This “alert watchfulness without meddling” by the conscious mind while one is riding on the street often takes the form of hunches: hypotheses about what might happen that are conscious but not fully articulate, because they don’t need to be. You recognize a familiar situation: there are strip malls on either side of a major thoroughfare, each with entries to the main road. The street numbers are posted only erratically, on haphazard buildings set far back from the main road. The car in front of you slows down, then speeds up, repeatedly. Hypothesis: this person is looking for a particular business, and when he spots it he may quickly veer across two lanes to get to it. Your motor responses are cocked and loaded, as it were, because you recognize the pattern.

That seems to me to describe what goes on in the head of an experienced writer engaged in the act of writing itself. Be the writer a planner or a discoverer (as we’ve discussed many times here) when they are into the writing of an actual scene “alert watchfulness without meddling” is the optimum practice.

For example, if you have structured your scene in advance (as explained here) you write with purpose. But if something pops up during the writing, some new possibility, your experience should “recognize the pattern.” You can consider it without “meddling” (which we often refer to as the “inner critic”). You form a hypothesis of how it might fit the overall story.

On the other hand, the wild-eyed panster should be “watchfully alert” against straying too far away from a pattern that best serves the story (not every “discovery” is a brilliant idea; not every glittering  nugget is gold).

How do you develop this alert watchfulness sans meddling? Writing and craft study. Writing alone can bring forth lots of words with little value. Just like a new golfer and ingrain bad habits by going out just to “play.” (Groundskeepers call that hunting gophers.)

On the other hand, just reading about the craft yields nothing without practice. In my early years studying writing, long before I was published, I’d design writing exercises based on what I’d learned in a book. This proved invaluable.

In college I also performed close-up magic. I got to occasionally hang out at the Magic Castle, the private club for pro magicians in Hollywood. Many of the legends of card magic, now in their 70s and 80s, were still around.

One of them was Dai Vernon, reputed to be the best card mechanic of the 20th century. I got to watch him up close, informally showing fellow magicians some moves.

Dai Vernon

I got all his magic books. In one of them he had “The Trick That Cannot Be Explained.” The reason was that he never performed it the same way twice. Everything was based on what the audience member did, from choosing a card to shuffling a deck. Vernon always produced the selected card in a surprising way, because he knew from experience literally hundreds of ways to manipulate cards. He would choose his method based on his “alert watchfulness” of what was happening. He didn’t have to take time to “meddle.” He just knew, instinctively, what to do.

I like that analogy applied to writing. When you have practiced your craft fruitfully and for a long time, you can perform “tricks that cannot be explained.” You form “hypotheses about what might happen that are conscious but not fully articulate, because they don’t need to be. You recognize a familiar situation.”

Does this resonate with you? Think about what’s going on in your mind as you write a scene. Are  you alert? Meddling? Hesitant? Risk averse? Or do you let it all out, even though you might run into a fence?

Creep

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With a book deadline looming and getting ready to leave for Bouchercon, I haven’t spent much time thinking about the subject of today’s blog, but it came about at a book signing. Tuesday, August 20, was the release of my second Tucker Snow novel, The Broken Truth.

We had a packed house at the Paris Texas Public Library, and I did my usual talk about the subject matter, the characters, and writing in general. Without a set speech, I discuss whatever comes to mind, and and I drifted off into a promo for Comancheria, the first book in my new western horror series (2025).

And here we burrow into a rabbit hole and all its branches.

I mentioned the entire novel came from a dream, and in fact, I dreamed another one a week or so ago. Coming awake at two in the morning with the entire plot in mind, I crept out of bed and into my office where I wrote for three hours, just to prime the pump and I wouldn’t forget.

A hand went up at the back of the room at the signing, and may I say, it was a packed house. “I loved your second book, Burrows. It was one of the creepiest books I’ve ever read, and I was an undercover narcotics officer. I know creepy.”

Humbled, I toed the carpet.

“So where does your creep come from?”

“Everywhere.” I looked around the room, noting folks were hanging on every word. That’s a weirdness (creepy feeling for some) for writers, because folks are there to hear you, and buy your book. You have to be entertaining on several different levels.

I once went to a book signing where the author spoke so softly the forum’s director came up with a new microphone, thinking the first one was defective. The lady changed mikes, and her voice was still barely a whisper. Then she read about a hundred pages of her book, at a level that had people fiddling with hearing aids turning them up, or changing batteries there on the spot.

NOTE: Be Loud. Be Proud. Be Entertaining!

Anyway, my creep comes from inside this empty head of mine. I confess, and won’t go into a lot of details here because I’m running up against a departure time, but we had a real live ghost (get it?) in our previous house. John Gilstrap can vouch for the fact that our family believed it, because the first time he stayed with us I had to warn him about…Casper.

I know. How original.

Casper played jokes on us, changing the TV channel, talking in familiar voices on the other side of the door, ringing bells (we don’t have any in the house), cutting through rooms at the edge of our vision, or making shadows under doors when no one was there (that’ll poise a finger over 911 on your phone). We felt he was a lot of fun, once we got used to his antics, but I’d neglected to tell my little brother about him.

He stayed with us for a few days, and one afternoon he called me at work, breathless, and on the sheer edge of a full blown panic. “What have you not told me about this house???”

“Uh, what did you see?”

“I saw a little boy in the hall, and when I asked him why he was in the house, he ran into Chelsea’s bedroom. I went in right after him and looked.” His voice lowered. “No one is in there, and all the outside doors are locked. What the hell!!!???”

“That was Casper, and don’t worry. He just likes to have fun.”

I explained the presence in further, and he never stayed with us in that house again.

I’m always casting around for something different to add when I’m writing. I continued my answer with the gentleman at the back of the room when he asked more about Creep Factor.

“There are a lot of other things I want to write about, but haven’t found the right place. For example, how many of y’all have The College Dream? You know, the one in which you can’t find you classroom because you haven’t been there all season, and it’s time to take the final. Or you come to class without pants, and have to take the final. Or you’re wandering in a building on the last day of school, and know you’ve blown the whole semester because you forgot about that class?”

Hands went up all around the room. So is that creepy? Is it something to raise the hair on a reader’s neck if properly presented?

I also want to write about the Mandela Effect. That’s the one where we’re convinced scientists have torn a hole in the fabric between universes and the world has changed, only slightly, and our memories argue with reality. “The term was coined in 2009 by paranormal researcher Fiona Broome after she and others realized they had false memories. Broome became convinced that Nelson Mandela, then the president of South Africa, had died in prison in the 1980s, but he actually served a 27-year sentence and was released in 1990.”

Do you remember how Mr. Monopoly wore a monocle? I say he did, but today’s reality says otherwise. Or is it the Berenstain, or Berenstein Bears. My auto correct insists it’s Berenstain. Did Mickey Mouse wear suspenders? Did Curious George have a tail? (My good friend’s son has a Curious George tattoo he got over thirty years ago. I’ll have to take a peek…ooohhh, story idea! His tattoo does have a tail, but today’s reality says he doesn’t).

And my own personal recollection is O’Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlor because I went there many times when it was in business in the Dallas area, but wait, if you look it up, it’s just Farrells. And now the spelling is different: Parlour vs. Parlor.

There’s a world of ideas out there, and many full of Creep. I’m afraid I don’t have the time to explore everything, and to write about all that interests me, but I’m sure gonna give it a try as long as these fingers stay limber enough to type, and as my old grandmother would say, “I’ll get it done, the good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”

Here’s a fun link to the Mandela Effect. If you want to know about the ghost we had, and all of his antics, look me up at Bouchercon in Nashville, where Gilstrap can vouch for me. We’re both here all day today, August 31.

 

https://www.forbes.com/health/mind/mandela-effect/#:~:text=What%20is%20the%20most%20famous,Mickey%20Mouse%20as%20wearing%20suspenders.

Reader Friday-The Games We Played

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Simple question today:

What was your favorite childhood game, either inside or outside, in school or away from school, with friends or alone? No rules here . . . just your favorite game you played as a child.

Mine? I have two: Kick the can in the middle of our quiet street usually with about 10-15 of the neighborhood kids.

And the board game, Risk, played with my brother and his friend who lived next door to us. We’d set the game up in the neighbor’s basement during the summer, leave it set up, and played every day almost. And let me tell you, the bro and our neighbor were merciless Risk players…never cut me any slack a ‘tall!

I never won, but boy howdy, it was a fun game. Until a few years ago, I had our original game–at least 50 years old–buried in a closet. Once when my brother was visiting, I presented him with it. It was a good moment for both of us.

Over to you, TKZ peeps! What was your go-to game when you were young? And, what games do your characters play?

 

Intelligence: IQ vs EQ

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There’s a world of difference between book smarts and street smarts—between braininess and savvy. The first has its place, but the second is much more useful. Being smart is the ability to logically think things out. Being sharp is the ability to tune into the world, to read situations, and positively connect with others while taking charge of your own life.

What is intelligence?

Intelligence has been defined in many different ways such as your capacity for logic, abstract thought, understanding, self-awareness, communication, learning, emotional knowledge, memory, planning, creativity, and problem solving.

Where intelligence comes from is anybody’s guess. Maybe it’s something that’s designed into us, possibly imbedded in our brain through DNA. I’m a believer in the concept of infinite intelligence which is the basis of Napoleon Hill’s masterpiece on human achievement in Think And Grow Rich. If you haven’t read T&GR, here’s the link. If you have read it, go read it again.

Intelligence has long been measured in a quotient called IQ. It’s different from a measure of your ability to control your emotions which is called EQ—a much more difficult thing to measure.

Most average adults have an IQ around 100 on the Stanford–Binet Intelligence Scale. The MENSA club requires members to be in the top 98 percentile which sets the bar at 132. According to the Guinness Book of Records, the “smartest” person in the world was Marilyn vos Savant, who scored 185. Probably the most intelligent person who ever existed was Leonardo da Vinci who’s been estimated at around 220.

Conversely, mental “retardation” used to be divided into sub-classifications, but these labels are officially obsolete due to political correctness: Borderline Deficiency (IQ 70-80), Moron (IQ 50-69), Imbecile (IQ 20-49) and Idiot (below 20). I’ve dealt with a few in my policing career who rated around 15, and I have my own term for that classification.

So, what about emotional smarts?

I have a great book called The EQ Edge by Steven J. Stein, Ph.D. and Howard E. Book, M.D. I’ll steal their definition of EQ.

Emotional Quotient is the set of skills that enable us to make our way in a complex world—the personal, social and survival aspects of overall intelligence, the elusive common sense and sensitivity that are essential to effective daily functioning. It has to do with the ability to read the political and social environment, and landscape them; to intuitively grasp what others want and need, what strengths and weaknesses are; to remain unruffled by stress; and to be engaging. The kind of person others want to be around and will follow.

Sophisticated mapping techniques in brain research have recently confirmed that many thought processes pass through our emotional centers as they take the psychological journey that converts outside information from infinite intelligence into individual response and action.

God only knows where infinite intelligence comes from.

Kill Zoners — Have you ever taken an IQ test? Do you think they have any merit? And what about EQ? What’s your take on that concept?

Expectations and Mediocrity

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Expectations and Mediocrity
Terry Odell

Light brown dog peering through a fenceRecently, James Scott Bell posted an article about whether writers should write mediocre books. Having just completed a book that’s on the fringes of my normal writing genre, I’d been struggling with the “is it good enough?” question. Given my primary goal in writing this book was to be able to use my recent trip to the Faroe Islands as a tax write-off, I had to resist the urge to crank something out quickly, just to have something to wave at an IRS auditor should they question the validity of my deductions.

I couldn’t. I needed to write something I’d be proud to have my name on. Not something that might have a reader crossing me off their reading list.

JSB’s post reminded me of frequent discussions I have with my son, who’s a photographer.

Our trip to the Faroes, wonderful as it was (There were Puffins! And waterfalls! And striking landscapes! and sheep!), led to discussions with both my son and the organizer of the tour.

Now, I’m no spring chicken, but I think (or thought) I was in decent physical shape. The description of the photography tour/workshop said most days would be “easy walks, gentle hikes.” There was one day, they said, that would be longer and more strenuous, but the views would be worth it. My expectations were nothing like the actual efforts required for almost every shooting venue.

Granted, the weather increased the efforts required. We had rain, which made the uneven terrain muddy and slippery. Add schlepping camera gear, and those of us in the over 70 group were challenged.

My “solution” was to minimize the gear I carried. Never mind that the tour organizer said, “Bring everything” almost every time we got out of the van, I opted to leave almost all of my gear behind. Not once did I use my tripod to get wonderful long-exposure shots. Only once did I bother with a polarizing filter. It was damp, drizzly, and sometimes the drizzles were more like light rain. I didn’t want to go to the trouble of changing lenses, or adding and then removing filters when everything was getting wet. My main lens was water sealed, but raindrops on the lens mess up one’s shots. Most of the dedicated photographers in the group, however, did make these extra efforts.

Getting back to the point I made with my son, and also the tour operator who seemed surprised when I told him my favorite site (other than the puffins, of course) was a stop at a lighthouse. The van parked maybe a five minute walk away. The ground was relatively level. And there was more to photograph than waves crashing against sea stack.

Of course, had I been a serious photographer, I’d have been content to have my camera set on its tripod, and sit around waiting for the light to change for the better. But I’m a writer with a photography hobby. Not a serious photographer. I belong to a book club, not a camera club. He was also surprised when I told him that on day 3, I had under 300 images on my memory card. He probably had 3000.

Although I had much of the suggested equipment, I decided it wasn’t worth dealing with given the effort required to get to the designated shooting area. Yes, I hiked the 7 kilometer round trip to get to the top for the “hanging lake” iconic shot. Uphill. Through mud. Slippery grass.

Terry Odell standing atop a cliff in Vagar, Faroe Islands

Photo by Jason P. Odell

"Hanging Lake" Faroe Islands

Lake Leitisvatn, Sørvágsvatn, Faroe Islands

No, I didn’t climb even further for a ‘better’ view. Most of those ended up being one shot. Nor, after that day, had I any desire to go on yet another hike to get a sunset shot. (Note: this time of year, sunset is around 10 PM). Did I feel guilty? Did I regret it? Nope.

My son and the tour organizer are photographers. Their reputations and their business depends on people seeing photos that say, “If you come on one of my tours, you, too, will be able to get photos like this one.” Putting out a mediocre shot will do more harm than good.

How does this relate to writing? Ah—maybe she’s getting to the point! Putting out a mediocre book isn’t going to help my career or my reputation. Taking photographs that are acceptable to me to put on my website’s photography section is my goal. Heck, the odds are the vast majority of people looking at them are seeing them on their phones.

It all boils down to audience and expectations.

If you’re going to a photography website, you want to be impressed with the images. You’re probably interested in photography as much as looking at striking pictures.

My audience is readers more than anything else. Do they like my photos? Feedback says they do.

But … think about how many mediocre books get stellar reviews. Do readers really know what makes an outstanding book? If I had decided to crank out a down-and-dirty novel based on a trip I took, would my readers know?

Some would, of course. But how many would praise the book for any number of reasons that had little to do with the quality of the writing? My guess (assuming they take the time to write a ‘review’—but that’s another story) is quite a few. People are praising the schlock put out by AI.

Something that can help a book rise above the mediocre level is editing. As authors, we have a myriad tools available: critique partners, beta readers, professional editors, and a variety of software options. How far we choose to go is up to us.

Did you like the photos I shared above? I worked on them to a small degree. Nothing fancy when taking the pictures, and minor tweaks using Lightroom software. In the context of writing, these would be chapters I asked my critique partners to look at. I used my writing skills to create the chapters (taking the picture) and then applied my parnters’ feedback (where I agreed with it) to enhance the words.

Compare this to a professional photographer’s efforts. In this case, the photographer applied his knowledge and skills to set up his shot. These are the ‘tools’ he used:

Camera: OM System OM-1 Mark 2
Lens: Olympus 8-25mm f/4 PRO
Exposure Data
1.6” f/8 ISO 400
Shot at 8mm (16mm full-frame equivalent)
Tripod + Polarizing filter

Seascape at Faroe Islands by Jason P. Odell

Drangarnir, Faroe Islands, Photo by Jason P. Odell

But he wasn’t finished. While he doesn’t use “betas” because he knows what he’s doing, he has his editing toolbox, which includes Lightroom and Nik Color Efex, which he used for this final edited version.

Faroes Seascape by Jason Odell

Makes mine look mediocre, doesn’t it? Did you change your opinion of my images?

**Want to see more of his images? Go to Luminescent Photo.

Bottom line for me: people bring their own expectations and experiences to whatever product they’re looking at. If they’re reading a book by a best-selling author, odds are most of them are predisposed to assume it’s going to be great. And many—probably very many—of them don’t really know how to judge quality. One of the things I’ve noticed in the book clubs I’ve belonged to, is that readers don’t read like writers. When I mention that I found the author’s use of having more than one character in a paragraph with dialogue distracting, none of them were aware there was a “convention” of One Speaker Per Paragraph. It’s always interesting to see what they notice—and what they don’t.

What about you, TKZers? Anything you’ve noticed getting raves when it falls into your definition of mediocrity? Or something you consider fantastic, but then see feedback to the contrary?

Cover of Double Intrigue by Terry Odell(Oh, and if I can take a moment for some BSP. Double Intrigue my international romantic suspense set against the Danube river cruise I took last December is now available for pre-order.)

How can he solve crimes if he’s not allowed to investigate?
Gordon Hepler, Mapleton’s Chief of Police, has his hands full. A murder, followed by several assaults. Are they related to the expansion of the community center? Or could it be the upcoming election? Gordon and mayor wannabe Nelson Manning have never seen eye to eye. Gordon’s frustrations build as the crimes cover numerous jurisdictions, effectively tying his hands. Available now in ebook, paperback, and audio.
Like bang for your buck? I have a new Mapleton Bundle. Books 4, 5, and 6 for one low price.
New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

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

Making Your Author Website Friendlier

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Photo credit: mariakray at Pixabay

by Debbie Burke

@burke_writer 

An author’s website is their billboard to the world. This is the one-stop site where readers, potential readers, editors, agents, and others go to learn about the author and their writing.

Social media sites owned by others can ebb, flow, and sometimes disappear altogether (remember My Space?). Or they can suspend or ban your account.

Your website is your one constant showcase as an author.

That’s why it’s important to make it as welcoming, friendly, and accessible to the broadest number of visitors.

And that includes those with disabilities.

Recently on the Author’s Guild discussion thread, the topic of ADA-accessible websites came up. Rumors had started on social media that authors could be fined if their sites weren’t accessible per standards set by the Americans with Disabilities (ADA) act.

Apparently, the source behind those rumors were individuals and possibly law firms threatening suits against authors.

As far as I can tell from my research, there is no current law requiring author websites to be ADA compliant.

The ADA does require websites and mobile apps for federal, state, and local governmental bodies to be ADA compliant.

We’re all aware of the necessity for businesses and buildings that are open to the public to meet ADA requirements, such as barrier free entrances, ramps, restroom facilities, etc. Also new construction must meet ADA standards for physical accessibility with hallways wide enough for wheelchairs, etc.

But until recently I hadn’t given much thought to online accessibility.

With increasing use of websites and apps to do everyday tasks like making travel reservations, ordering merchandise and services, applying for employment, bill paying, banking, etc., consumers need to be able to actually use those online services to take care of the business of living.

What if you have low vision or are color blind? What if you can’t read the text onscreen because of poor contrast or small fonts? What if you can’t see the color images onscreen that instruct you to click here?

Despite recent successful cataract surgery, my close vision is not good even with reading glasses. I’m frustrated with online sources that feature elaborate but undecipherable fonts. Often they feature tiny text. Worse is low contrast text on a background that’s a similar color (light gray text on dark gray background). Moving icons or videos that flash past, or other quirks can make content hard to read.

I just ran across an appealing website about wine with many gorgeous professional photos. The background image is a beautiful bunch of grapes. But…the text is 6 point font in white. Small, low contrast text combined with a busy background made it challenging to read. This otherwise stunning site was a disappointment.

If I visit an author’s site and it’s difficult to navigate, I really don’t care how cool it looks. I close the window.

When authors update their websites or create new newsletters, it’s good to be mindful of various disabilities. Here’s an article from ADA.gov with potential problems to look for and suggestions for easier accessibility. Levelaccess.com offers a free color checker test.

Website builders like WordPress offer many different themes. Maybe changing the theme can make your site more welcoming. If you publish a newsletter, review sample templates to find the most attractive and readable options for fonts, background colors, and images.

Because I’m not techie, the goal of my website has always been to make it as friendly and easy to use as possible for fellow troglodytes. I use large, easily readable fonts and bold typefaces.

While I believe the concern over possible fines or lawsuits is overblown, I also don’t want my website to turn off visitors because of issues that make it difficult for those with disabilities.

When I make future updates (or have my web guy make changes), I’ll be more conscious of potential barriers to readers.

As authors, we strive to make it as easy as possible for readers to engage with us and read our work. That starts with a website that friendly to all users regardless of ability. 

~~~

TKZers: Do you have pet peeves that turn you off about a website?

Please share suggestions of how authors can make their websites friendlier.

Have a favorite site? Include a link in the comments.

~~~

Grab Instrument of the Devil, the first book in the Tawny Lindholm Thriller series, for FREE. Offer ends soon.

(Re) Reading the Classics

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“Every rereading of a classic is as much a voyage of discovery as the first reading.” —Italo Calvino

* * *

After a friend of mine shared a bunch of quotes about the classics by Italo Calvino, I went in search of a good list of classic literature. Well, it was like going in search of a glass of water and finding yourself on the shore of an ocean.

It turns out there are many different lists of classic literature, some with hundreds of books on them. It made me wonder who gets to decide what books are labeled as classics.

“We use the words “classics” for books that are treasured by those who have read and loved them; but they are treasured no less by those who have the luck to read them for the first time in the best conditions to enjoy them.” —Italo Calvino

* * *

Goodreads lists one thousand seven hundred and ninety (gulp) “must read classics.” The ranking on their list is driven by reader votes. Here are the top ten plus a few more that I thought deserve consideration.

 

1. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

 

 

2. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

 

 

3. 1984 by George Orwell

 

 

4. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

 

 

5. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

 

6. Animal Farm by George Orwell

 

 

7. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

 

 

8. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 

9. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

 

 

10. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

“The classics are books that exert a peculiar influence, both when they refuse to be eradicated from the mind and when they conceal themselves in the folds of memory, camouflaging themselves as the collective or individual unconscious.” —Italo Calvino

* * *

Here are few more books that were further down the list. I had to stop the total list at twenty-five or I would never have finished this post.

 

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

The Iliad by Homer

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

“The classics are books which, upon reading, we find even fresher, more unexpected, and more marvelous than we had thought from hearing about them.” —Italo Calvino

* * *

Some of the books listed above had an enormous impact on me. I’m afraid I may have read others when I was too young, and I need to revisit them.

 

 

So TKZers: How do you define a classic novel? Have you read any of the classics listed here? What books would you cite as classics that I haven’t included? Which books have you re-read? Which would you like to re-read?

* * *

 

It’s not a classic (yet), but Lacey’s Star is an entertaining and thought-provoking mystery.

Available at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

Should You Abandon Your Novel?

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Back when I was doing the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference every year, I read a lot of manuscript excerpts for critique. One year I read the opening chapters of a fellow’s first attempt at a novel. He gave me the pitch and was obviously enthused about the idea. He’d had it for years, in fact, and was finally getting it down on paper (as we used to say). I marked up the MS for him and gave him some tips.

The next year he was back. When we met he showed me the same manuscript. “I made some changes you’ll like,” he said.

I asked him if he’d written anything else since last time.

“No,” he said. “Still working on this.”

A whole year (’nother) with the exact same book? Trying to get it in shape to submit to agents? And while I don’t remember the entire pitch, I do remember thinking it’d be a challenge to market.

Plus, it was his first novel. How many writers produce a publishable (or sellable) first novel right out of the gate? Not many (though I believe our own Brother Gilstrap is one of them, with Nathan’s Run).

I’ve had some people over the years come up to me and say, “I think I have a novel inside me.” And I bite my tongue to keep from saying, “That’s a good place to keep it.”

Because there are two things wrong with their sentiment.

First, if you only think you have a novel inside you, you won’t have the drive you need to make it in this game. You’ve got to think: I am a writer inside, and I’m going to write that book.

Second, no one is interested in publishing a novel. They want a novel-ist. They want someone who can deliver the goods over a career. The landscape is littered with first-time novelists whose second effort fell flat, along with their future prospects inside the walls of the Forbidden City.

Now that we have self-publishing, of course, there is no barrier to entry. But if you toss up dismal offerings that readers don’t respond to (except with one-star reviews or, what may be worse, no reviews at all) you’re not building a career, you’re just exercising your fingers.

So how long should you labor over a book before saying, “This isn’t getting me any further. Maybe I should start another one.”

There is no magical answer, but maybe I can offer some suggestions, such as:

Spending a year on one book is long enough.

Yes, that’s a bit overstated. If you’re intent on writing a novel that begins with the pre-Cambrian protozoa and ends at the Treaty of Versailles, that’s your choice.

But a novel-ist produces. A page-a-day is a book a year. A Ficus tree can write a page a day. Don’t be shown up by a Ficus tree.

If you have completed your first novel, celebrate. You’re ahead of most “I think I have a novel inside me” writers. If you’ve studied craft along the way, you will have learned a lot, so your efforts are not in vain. Almost every novelist in the 20th century had a “trunk” novel. Maybe years later they came back to the idea. Or maybe not. What they didn’t do was workshop it over and over, waiting for the cows to come home or the agents to come calling.

This assumes, of course, that you’re hoping to have a career or at least happy vocation that brings in a little dough for your efforts.

But what if this is my second attempt?

You’ve written two whole novels. Good job. Now compare the second one to your first. Did you improve? Consider getting some objective feedback from a few beta readers.

I don’t need no stinkin’ beta readers!

How big is that chip on your shoulder?

This sounds too time consuming. I want to be published yesterday.

When I was in college I wrote to a novelist I admired, the author of The Last Detail, Darryl Ponicsan. He wrote me a nice letter with some solid advice, ending with, “Be prepared for an apprenticeship of years.” (I tell that story here, with a comment from Mr. Ponicsan himself).

It did take me years, and some pretty clunky efforts, before I was published. I spent seven years writing and immersing myself in the craft before a publisher gave me a shot. I’m glad easy self-publishing was not an option back then (just expensive, worthless “vanity” publishing). Going through the grinder of submission and rejection made me a better writer. When my break came, I was ready.

But writing should be fun. This doesn’t sound like fun.

You know what the best fun is? Getting better at what you do. I loved basketball as a kid and had my dad put up a hoop on our garage. I spent hours and hours practicing, sometimes in the rain. I played hours of pickup every weekend at the gym. I got real good, and that was doggone fun. I played in college. For years afterward I had fun playing, until I blew out my knee. That was not fun. But it didn’t negate one bit all the satisfaction I got out of getting good, of hitting the winning shot with the crowd cheering.

This sounds like you’re talking to newer writers. Am I hearing you right?

Loud and clear.

So what about a “seasoned” writer? Should they ever abandon a book?

I’ve got the answer: It depends.

Okay, genius, what does it depend on?

First, on whether or not you’ve got a contract. You may not have the luxury of simple abandonment. You may be able to get a deadline extension from your publisher, but don’t make a habit of it.

If you’re an indie writer, or are writing “on spec,” you have more flexibility. We’ve talked about the “30k wall” here at TKZ. I seem to hit that with each book, even with an outline. I’ve found that a day or two of letting the basement boys have at, then coming back with a vengeance, always provides a breakthrough.

But I also have known a successful “pantser” who has written up to a point where the book flattens and loses steam, so much so that he sets the book aside and moves on.

I do my “pantsing” in the plotting stage. I explore many possible scenarios and outcomes, possible twists and turns, before choosing the path that has, for me, the greatest potential. If some twists pop up during the writing (and they always do) I take a little time to assess, and then tweak my outline. I prefer tweaking over abandoning.

I do have a file of first chapters. I can write first chapters all day long. I’ve done that as part of my creativity time, just to see what it sparks. Sometimes it is a jumping off point into further development. Other times I consider it writing practice.

Nothing is wasted when you exercise your writing muscles.

Can Artificial Intelligence save your bacon?

That is a whole can of worms (to mix metaphors). I’ve run plot problems by Mrs. B, whose intelligence is not artificial. So it is good to a brainstorming partner. The advantage of AI is you don’t have to make a phone call and set up a meeting. It is instantly available.

I would just advise not becoming too dependent on AI, because then you’re not exercising your imagination, as stated above. When that atrophies, it affects all aspects of your writing.

On the other hand, the more you work out that brain of yours, the stronger your writing will become. Plus, you’ll bring that secret sauce called self to the pages, the thing that makes your writing stand apart from the noisome pestilence of mediocrity.

Don’t ever abandon yourself.

How I have rambled on. You take over now in the comments. I’d love to hear what you have to say. (Mrs. B and I are watching the grandboys all day, so my responses may be limited. We never abandon grandboy time!)