What really popped out about this book video for me is this:
“…an author found himself deep in debt, and wrote this story in six weeks.”
A Christmas Carol, indeed!
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Santa List
Ah, the holiday season…time of looniness and mayhem… Today, being my last blog post for 2009, I’m going to channel the holiday spirit and write about conspicuous consumption (of books of course!) and my family’s current wish list for Santa.
Now first up (appropriately enough) are my parents. Notoriously hard to buy for as they devour their favorite authors’ latest books as soon as they come out, th
ey have few books still on their list so I’m going for the audio book approach: I figure I can’t go wrong with Good Omens by Neil Gaimon and Terry Pratchett (my father is a huge fan of both) or The Screwtape Letters by C.S Lewis…only problem, not sure Santa’s up on the whole ‘bureaucracy of hell’ or ‘the end is nigh’ stuff – might dampen the ho, ho, ho…but, bah humbug, that’s what they’re getting.
ey have few books still on their list so I’m going for the audio book approach: I figure I can’t go wrong with Good Omens by Neil Gaimon and Terry Pratchett (my father is a huge fan of both) or The Screwtape Letters by C.S Lewis…only problem, not sure Santa’s up on the whole ‘bureaucracy of hell’ or ‘the end is nigh’ stuff – might dampen the ho, ho, ho…but, bah humbug, that’s what they’re getting.My twin boys are so much easier – I’ve already indoctrinated them into loving mystery books (the old fashioned, English kind, of course). Once again, Enid Blyton r
ules and my boys are already obsessed by the Secret Seven mystery series (seven kids, a dog named Scamper and lots of English village mysteries to solve) and are about to discover the Adventure series (four kids, a talking parrot and mysteries in exotic locations). Santa is fully up to speed on their book requirements though (sigh), Lego is still number one on their Santa list.
ules and my boys are already obsessed by the Secret Seven mystery series (seven kids, a dog named Scamper and lots of English village mysteries to solve) and are about to discover the Adventure series (four kids, a talking parrot and mysteries in exotic locations). Santa is fully up to speed on their book requirements though (sigh), Lego is still number one on their Santa list.My husband is always a trickier proposition, book-wise. He barely has enough
time to start a book let alone finish it, but I recently introduced him to a terrific Australian thriller writer, Michael Rowbotham, so I know he’ll be trying to read him over the holidays. As for his list, well I’m going for non-fiction instead with Michael Chabon’s latest, Manhood for Amateurs. I wasn’t quite ready to put his wife’s book, Bad Mother, on my Santa list (my fragile ego couldn’t cope with unwrapping it on Christmas Day…) but I’d love to read it all the same.
I have a veritable library of titles on my list for Santa…and certainly not enough time to read them all…but my top three are: AS Byatt’s Edwardian saga, The Children’s Book; Cormac McCarthy’s post apocalyptic, The Road, and Juliet Nicholson’s non-fiction account of collective mourning in the aftermath of WW1, The Great Silence.
So what books are on your Santa list??
10 Things I Think You Need to Know About Agents
1. Before you approach an agent, make sure your concept is killer. That means a) not shopworn (“We’ve seen this before”); or b) not so far off the map that anyone with a profit motive will run screaming from the room. It has to be fresh but not too weird. The characters have to jump off the page. There has to be enough at stake. Your opening pages have too move. Easy, right? Of course not, because if it was your Aunt Sally would be writing New York Times bestsellers. But here’s where you have to dig in if you want to interest an agent.
2. You are better off having no agent than having a bad agent. Anyone can print up business cards and call themselves “agent.” But what do they know about the business? Find out. A reputable agent should have a website with a list of their clients. Start there. What’s their background in the publishing biz? How long have they been agenting? There are some “watchdog” sites that issue warnings about certain names, so use your old pal Google.
3. You need to be businesslike about the relationship. Don’t jump at the first bite. Talk to the agent by phone. Ask some questions, see how you click personally. Be objective about this. From the agent’s side it’s business; it should be from your side, too.
4. You are probably unrealistic about what an agent can do for you. Having an agent doesn’t guarantee a contract. And just because an agent doesn’t get you a sale doesn’t mean he or she is the problem. It might be your writing, or your timing. A good agent will suggest ways to overcome market weaknesses, but ultimately you have to take charge of improving as a writer. And you’d better do it, because there are a bunch of other writers out there who are.
5. Your agent has many clients; you have only one agent. Don’t expect all the attention. Don’t expect immediate return of phone calls, unless it’s a publishing emergency. Don’t expect immediate return of emails unless it is an issue affecting your professional life, like, right now.
6. But agents aren’t mind readers, either. If you have a question or issue, contact them. Don’t let your frustrations build to the point where it affects your writing.
7. Agents are human beings. “Thank You” notes (real ones, made out of paper, sent with a stamp) do mean something. So do Starbucks cards and chocolate.
8. Agent Rachelle Gardner has a great post with her take on some “bad advice” she’s read regarding agents. Read it.
9. Read blogs by agents, but don’t let the plethora of information freak you out. Ultimately the most important thing is your writing, the thing you have most control over. Keep coming up with ideas and keep growing as a writer.
10. Fred Allen, the famous radio comedian, once said, “You can take all the sincerity in Hollywood and put it into a gnat’s navel, and still have room for two caraway seeds and an agent’s heart.” I get to tell that joke because I’m a former lawyer and had to put up with lawyer jokes all the time. But now the truth. The overwhelming majority of agents I’ve met at conferences love books and authors and want the best for both. So approach agents professionally. They want to like you. Show them what you’ve got. Don’t be dull and don’t be desperate. It’s a tough business out there right now and it’s not just writers feeling it, it’s agents, too. Everybody in this profession has to keep slugging.
I Try To Not Complain
John Ramsey Miller
I have been so very fortunate in my careers and my personal life that when I realize I’m complaining, I feel like crap. I have been lucky, and my hard work has paid off in spades. True I’m not a Dan Brown, but I’ve made a very good living from my writing, and in fact I have not had to work at a non-writing job since the middle eighties. That may no longer be the case, but I’ve got few complaints about that. I’m pretty grateful for this great resume template I’ve always followed, as I have a feeling it’s been the reason behind a lot of my success, and it will be even more so now as I’m seriously considering looking for a day job again, after two decades of writing. I shudder to think about jobs that I would be qualified for and businesses that would have me. Every time I’ve been to Walmart, I see they have the same greeter, and standing at the doorway and the thought of saying, “Welcome to Walmart” thousands of times a day makes my feet and my throat hurt.
Realistically speaking I’m a dead man when it comes to a job application. And can you imagine how “Contemplative Storyteller or Professional Fiction Author from 1994-2009” will read to the HR people at the local Piggly Wiggly? Even bagboys need better creds than that.
I never finished college. I suck at math. I can’t dance. I couldn’t sell ice water in the Mojave. Most of my clothes as of late are Levis, T-shirts and flannel shirts and I’m shy unless I’ve had a couple of shots. Even if sixty is the new fifty, I’m middle aged.
I’m good with guns, so I could be a night watchman, except that I am usually asleep by eight-thirty. I have some other ideas, but I’m still writing books thinking if I don’t write, I might have to actually get a real job. If I did spend my days saying, “Welcome to Walmart” I might could steer shoppers to my books in the paperback section of the Literary department.
God, I need a vacation.
Go Ahead: Muster the Courage to Sing Along
By John Gilstrap
I understand that all too often, my hard-earned cynicism shows through, and that I can seem somewhat . . . harsh to people who don’t know me very well. Come to think of it, I might come off as harsh to people who do know me well, also, but I like to think that they grant me the benefit of doubt.
Come Christmastime, though, I become all sappy and tingly. Cynicism makes way for childish optimism.
Our decorations go up the weekend after Thanksgiving, and they stay up through the New Year. The Gilstraps are not competitive decorators, but we’re thorough decorators. In my world, there’s never enough garland or lights. Our Christmas tree is adorned with ornaments from every family vacation, plus two generations of arts and crafts products. My parents’ first treetop ornament has grown too fragile to actually serve atop the tree anymore, but it nonetheless has a prominent place on the kitchen mantle. My son’s favorite Teddy bear from back in the day drives a sleigh that also transports our departed black Labrador retriever’s favorite chew toy.
Are you getting the picture here? Christmas for me is a time for unabashed sentimentality. It’s about loving the people who are in my life, and remembering those who have passed beyond my life. It’s a time when I believe people are nicer to each other. It’s the time of year when Disney-style happy endings always seem possible, if not particularly probable.
It’s with this lightness of heart that I make my daily commute into Washington, DC from my outpost town of Fairfax, Virginia via the Orange Line of the Metro system. I’ve only been a day-job commuter for a little more than four years, but for each of those, I’ve witnessed a Christmas phenomenon that I’ve never seen reported in any of the local news: A nicely-dressed Asian man boards the train at one of the suburban stops, excuses himself, and then sings a Christmas carol to the commuters.
Maybe you need to understand the commuting rules of engagement in Washington, but no one–no one–speaks during the morning commute. We’re very important people in DC, and interruptions are unheard of. Thus, when someone not only sings, but sings of Christmas–the most un-PC of holidays in DC–folks actually get a little nervous. If he had a gun, we’d know what to do; but when he brings a message of cheer, we get flummoxed.
I’ve done a fair amount of singing in my lifetime–both in the shower and out of it–and I know just about every Christmas carol by heart, but even though I’d love to sing along, deep down inside, I’m a coward. Many of my seat mates and aisle mates roll their eyes when they see this unnamed guy. A few giggle. In my gut, I want to go for the Disney Christmas scene where everyone lives inside a musical and no one is embarrassed to belt out the words, but I’ve never grown a big enough pair to give it a shot.
Until this morning.
The mysterious Asian man entered the subway car and started with one of my favorites, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, and I am proud to announce that I sang along with him. I didn’t mumble, either. I sang full-voice, drawing an annoyed glance from the commuters sitting in front of me. I wish I could report that the entire car was united in song by the time we were finished, but alas, that was not the case. A few people were humming, though, and more than a few gave my guy a hearty “Merry Christmas” as he got off at the next stop.
I admire my mystery man. I appreciate his efforts to bring joy to the hearts of grumpy commuters. If only more people would sing, think how much better their days would become.
What do you think? Could you muster the courage to sing along?
The Point of it All
The last few weeks have easily been among the most challenging of my writing career. I’ve been on tour, which sounds like great fun until you actually have to spend the greater part of a month away from your family, surviving on granola bars and coffee since events invariably take place at dinnertime and I haven’t yet figured out how to work meals around that.
Plus for the first time I had an event where no one-not one person- showed. I realize that happens to most authors at one point or another, and I’m not claiming to generally draw crowds. But still-it was disheartening.
My publisher announced a new vanity-publishing imprint that caused quite a bit of furor (more on that here). And the ensuing back and forth consumed time and energy that I really couldn’t spare.
Especially since I’ve been juggling the marketing of THE GATEKEEPER while rushing to meet an extremely tight deadline for my next book.
And, for the first time in my writing career, I stalled out.
One of my main characters was trapped in a very dark, hopeless place. And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to extricate her from such a desperate situation. Not outlining had suddenly come back to haunt me for the first time. I was fairly certain I’d written myself into a corner.
As I dragged myself out of bed to catch a 6AM flight, it struck me as an apt metaphor. I’d spent years of my living striving to get to this point in my career, and for the first time since signing a writing contract, I wasn’t enjoying it. I know that before I was published, listening to writers whine about their hardships always induced a snort- but there are occasional drawbacks to getting what you want. And as I shuffled through security yet again, it all seemed pointless. I felt trapped by deadlines, tour dates, and all of the ancillary nonsense that sometimes goes on in this industry. I was mired in the same place as my character.
Funny how life works sometimes. I opened my inbox to find this email:
My husband was a fan of yours. He entered one of your contests a year or so ago and won the book “Tunnels”. You autographed the book and it meant a lot to him. He was reading the second book “Boneyard” when he was placed in hospice. He was very sick and he so desperately wanted to finish the book. I tried to read to him but he wanted to read it himself. He never got the chance to finish your book but I just wanted you to know how much he enjoyed them. Thank you for sending the autographed book. I, too, am reading your books and looking forward to next one’s debut, Thank you for making the last months of his life just a bit happier.
I really can’t express how much this email meant to me. It’s easily the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my work-and it’s absolutely more than it deserves. So the next time I find myself descending into that dark place, I have this lovely note to serve as my reminder. I am so very fortunate to be healthy and whole, doing what I’m doing.
The Big Score
By Joe Moore
Over at Murderati, my friend Brett Battles recently blogged about writing while listening to music. Since I’m a big believer in doing it, I thought I’d add my two cents to the topic.
Lets start by looking at the cinema. Arguably, a movie would lose its impact without music. Even in the days of silent movies, there was a live piano player in the theater whose job was to add drama to each scene. You can have the greatest photography, acting, direction, set design and script, but without music, the movie would probably fall flat. Not to be confused with what some call movie soundtracks–usually a collection contemporary tunes–movie scores are written and orchestrated pieces of original music specifically 
designed for a particular scene. They enhance and support the visual images. If you listen to a movie score isolated from the visuals, it can verge on being classical in nature. As a matter of fact, I consider names like Trevor Jones, Randy Edelman, Hans Zimmer, Ennio Morricone, James Horner, John Williams, Howard Shore, and many others to be our modern day classical composers.
I discovered many years ago that I could also use the element of music to help me write. Someone gave me the CD score to THE MISSION with Robert De Niro. It happened to be playing on my stereo as I started a new chapter, and I realized that the music set exactly the same mood as the scene on which I was working. So from then on, as I watched movies I would pay particular attention to the scores. If they evoked the type of mood I sought in my WIP, or just set a very cool, dramatic, romantic or spooky mood, I would order the CD and rip it to MP3.
I now have a huge collection of scores on my computer and rarely sit down to write without my MP3 player on “shuffle”. I don’t use any music with lyrics since I find that other people’s words distract me. That’s why scores work so well—in most cases they are instrumental.
So if you’d like to try writing dramatic scenes to music, here’s a short list of my favorite CDs that seem to have it all when it comes to creating a mood found in most mysteries and thrillers.
A Beautiful Mind, James Horner
The Bone Collector, Craig Armstrong
Burn After Reading, Carter Burwell
A Very Long Engagement, Angelo Badalamenti
House of Sand and Fog, James Horner
The Human Stain, Rachel Portman
The Lives of Others, Gabriel Yared
March of the Penguins, Alex Wurman
Runaway Jury, Christopher Young
Amazon lets you sample the tracks before you purchase, so enjoy listening then find the one that fits your WIP.
Do you write to music? Lyrics or instrumental. What are your top five CDs for background music while you write?
A little inspiration is in order
If you’re like me and could use a little inspiration, you should read this wonderful essay about becoming a writer by Alexander Chee. He writes eloquently about the experience of studying writing with novelist Annie Dillard.
After you read it, come back and tell us about your own most important writing teacher. In my case, a creative writing course I took from Robert Pinsky (who later became Poet Laureate) at Wellesley College changed my thinking about writing. I remember how one day he opened a classroom window (on an upper floor) and leaned way, w-a-a-y out of it, to a point that made me nervous; he was showing us that we had to risk discomfort and break out of our Wellesley-refined shells, to dig deep enough to get the stories out. Even though I was focused back then on becoming a journalist (I didn’t think of writing fiction as a “real” career), I still remember the impact that course had on me.
What about you? Which teacher had the most direct influence on you as a writer?
Here be Sharks…
Please join me in Welcoming guest blogger, BRAD PARKS, to the Killzone…though be warned, treacherous waters lie ahead…
Editor’s note: In this guest blog post, the author has indicated he will be employing an extended metaphor to explain how he writes. Metaphors are highly complex literary devices and should only be attempted with great care. Ask your doctor if you’re healthy enough to use metaphors. Do not use metaphors if you take nitrates for chest pain. If your metaphor lasts more than four hours, consult an editor immediately, as this could be a sign of rare but serious case of over-writing.
There are a lot of different writing methods out there, and – like a lot of you, I’m sure – I experimented with a number of them through the years. I tried outlining, but found it stifled my spontaneity. I tried starting with the end in mind, but found it made the end too predictable. I tried sketching out key scenes before I began, but found myself too impatient trying to get from once scene to the next. Finally, I found the method that works best for me. I call it, “Writing like an open-water distance swimmer.”
Editor’s note: Wait a tick, isn’t that actually a simile? You used “like” or “as.” That makes it a simile. You must be one of those kids who daydreamed through the section of eighth grade English where you were supposed to learn the difference.
I got into swimming a few years back when my surgically repaired knee kept making it difficult to continue jogging as much as I wanted. I enjoyed swimming, except for one thing: Pools are boring. You swim to the wall. You do a flip turn. You swim back. It’s the equivalent of writing by formula – it’s exercise, sure, but there’s not enough to keep it interesting.Then my wife and I moved to the tidewater part of Virginia, to a small cottage on a wide section of the Rappahannock River, not far from the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. The climate is fairly mild here, so I’m able to start swimming in April each year and, with the help of a wetsuit, can keep it up until the end of October.
Editor’s note: Yeah, yeah. You’re a freakin’ iron man. Get on with it, will you?
And here’s where, for me, writing is like open water distance swimming: Each day, I know where I’m starting (on the beach just down from our house). And I know I need to get back to dry land eventually. But I don’t know exactly what I’m going to encounter on the way. All I can do is plunge into the water and start stroking. Certainly, there are dangers involved in open water distance swimming. You can get swept away by strong currents. You can suffer a cramp. You can get attacked by a great white shark.
Editor’s Note: Hold on. A great white shark? C’mon. You already said you swim in a tributary of the Chesapeake Freakin’ Bay. Everyone knows great white sharks are ocean-going creatures. More importantly, Wikipedia knows it. Shape up, buster.
You can get stung by a jellyfish.
Editor’s Note: Better.
Yet that sense of danger is what keeps it fun and interesting. Between the tide, the wind and the waves, the river is never quite the same place from one swim to the next. I’ve found writing this way keeps things fresh – every day is a new adventure.
Plus, as a writer, you get the chance to edit what you’ve done and correct your mistakes. It’s the equivalent of going back over your swimming route in a row boat, being able to say, “Oh, that’s where the current got a little strong for me, I should have swum over here instead. That’s where I got attacked by that great white shark…”
Editor’s Note: You’re just testing me now.
“… that’s where I got stung by that jellyfish.”
Editor’s Note: Better. Hey, did you hear about the giant jellyfish that sunk a 10-ton Japanese fishing boat (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/6483758/Japanese-fishing-trawler-sunk-by-giant-jellyfish.html)? Honestly, how embarrassed were those guys when they went back to the dock and had to tell their fishing buddies, “Yeah, the Mary Jane gave it her all, but the jelly was just too much for her!”
And then you go back and fix it. But – and here’s perhaps the most important part of the metaphor – there’s really only one way to get from one side of the river to the other. You have to keep swimming.Unlike jogging, or working out on an elliptical machine or lifting weights, you can’t just stop when you get tired. Once you’ve thrown yourself out there in the river, in water over your head, you’ll drown if you let yourself stop. And maybe there are times when the shore looks like it’s an impossible distance away or you think you won’t be able to make it. The only way to get through it is to keep going, one stroke at a time. And you know from your previous swims – or your previous writing sessions – that if you just keep doing that, you’ll eventually get back to shore, with soft sand under your feet.Do you have a good metaphor for your writing? I’d love to hear it.
Editor’s Note: Just, please, no sharks.
BRAD PARKS is an escaped journalist, having done time at The Washington Post 
and The (Newark, N.J.) Star-Ledger as a sportswriter and news feature writer. A graduate of Dartmouth College, he is a washed-up jock, a veteran of community theater and a terrible golfer. He lives in Virginia with an understanding wife and two adorable young children. To learn more about Brad or FACES OF THE GONE, visit http://www.bradparksbooks.com/. You can also sign up for his newsletter (http://www.bradparksbooks.com/fan-club.php), become a fan of Brad Parks Books on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Brad-Parks-Books/137190195628#) or follow him on Twitter (www.twitter.com/Brad_Parks).
and The (Newark, N.J.) Star-Ledger as a sportswriter and news feature writer. A graduate of Dartmouth College, he is a washed-up jock, a veteran of community theater and a terrible golfer. He lives in Virginia with an understanding wife and two adorable young children. To learn more about Brad or FACES OF THE GONE, visit http://www.bradparksbooks.com/. You can also sign up for his newsletter (http://www.bradparksbooks.com/fan-club.php), become a fan of Brad Parks Books on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Brad-Parks-Books/137190195628#) or follow him on Twitter (www.twitter.com/Brad_Parks).What, Writers Worry?
In light of last week’s post about how “bleak” November seemed to many fiction writers, I thought I’d reflect a little on worry. Writers, after all, really have no cause to worry about anything, right?
I mean, putting aside anxiety over whether they’ll ever get an agent, get published, sell enough to stay published, or if they do get published will they get stink bomb reviews; or wondering if they are real writers or only massive frauds, or if they are doing too little self-promotion, or too much; concerns over whether they’re putting undue strain on their marriages or other close relationships; and getting migraines wondering what the future of publishing will look like – discounting all that, writers really have no reason to worry at all.
But, given that some do (I’ve actually met a few of them), I should like to offer two ways to deal with this mental malady: drugs and Bell’s MO (not to be confused with Phillips MO, which offers relief of another kind entirely).
First, drugs. Luckily for writers, pharmaceutical companies have been on the job to develop several treatments for all manner of writerly concerns. Among the most popular are:
Damitol – relieves symptoms associated with wanting to chuck the whole writing thing. Side effects may include cursing, smashing things and inordinate sobbing. Should not be taken by nursing mothers and church deacons.
Agenex – Controls blood pressure when you have to fire your agent. Side effects may include obsession with the number 15.
Bombasic – makes you think you’re charming when drunk (Hemingway reportedly was in a research group for this drug). Side effects may include social opprobrium, intense morning headaches and regret.
Tuborin – alerts you to long sections in your manuscript without conflict.
Promotia – help overcome depression when you discover how much your publisher is paying for marketing.
Noloft – take this if your book fails to make a bestseller list.
Paynaise – Prevents the onset of angst associated with two-figure royalty checks.
Ripitor – normalizes the nervous system after you’ve read a horrible review.
Okay, not everyone is into pharmaceuticals — and recreational drugs are definitely off limits — so I offer an alternative. Call this my own, personal modus operandi for dealing with writer worry. It will work for you if you follow these steps:
1. Take a moment to note the benefits of your worry. You are engaged. You are alive. You have blood coursing through your veins. You are not a chair.
2. Remind yourself of the truth handed down by a wise Jewish carpenter, who once said, “Who by worrying can add one cubit to his span of life?” IOW, worry does absolutely no good regarding future outcomes and you know that. Tell yourself over and over until it sinks in.
3. Now, figure out what’s the worst thing that can happen if you don’t get your desired result. Let’s say you’re waiting to hear about a submission to Penguin. What’s the worst? You get rejected by Penguin. That’s it. (Do not let your imagination run away with you. The very worst thing that can happen is that the acquisitions editor is so angry at your abuse of literature she hires a hit man to take you out. I mean, be reasonable).
4. Next, write down all the ways you can come back strong if the worst thing happens. You got rejected by Penguin. How do you come back from that? You can a) submit elsewhere; b) prepare another project; c) rework the current project according to feedback; d) schedule a talk with your agent; e) study some aspect of the craft you’re weak on. And so forth.
5. After going through steps 3 and 4, tell yourself that you can live with the worst thing. If it happens, it’s not going to debilitate you. It’s not going to stop you. Determine to accept the worst if it happens.
Shameless bonus tip: Read chapters 15 & 16 of The Art of War for Writers, which has more about conquering writer’s worry.
There is still one more step to go, to keep the worry from creeping back up on you. And that is – you know what’s coming –write.
Writing is the best antidote to any worries about writing. When you’re into the page, when the story is coming out, you haven’t got space for any of that anxiety stuff.
Write a short story. Write an opening chapter that you make up on the spot – and see if you have something here that sparks a novel. Write an essay or a diatribe. Start your memoirs. Write a blog entry or well thought out comment for someone else’s blog. Write a character biography.
Do writing exercises, like morning pages. Download Dr. Wicked’s reasonably priced Write or Die program, and then . . . write or die.
Life is too short, and your window for writing too narrow, for you to let worries hang you up. So don’t let them.
Is worry a big problem for you? How do you handle it? Feel free to leave an anonymous comment if you wish to be more open than your public persona is comfortable with.