Tag Archives: Writers

Art, Life, On Being a Writer

Tempering Those Great Expectations

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I was talking to Jessica today about everything I’ve been doing for the past week, preparing to launch Maximum Security – as I spoke, this familiar tide of excitement rose up in me along with visions resulting from the thought, “I could get a gazillion guests at my launch party, and . . . .”

And I squashed it. Like a cockroach.

Why? I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve only been writing for 3 years, but I’ve been painting for 40, and put on countless art exhibitions. I’ve learned one thing: God rains down sudden abundance on people like Colleen Hoover mostly to test the faith and commitment of everyone else (Okay, maybe Colleen being really talented and nice and totally awesome and deserving had a little, teeny bit to do with it).

My progress comes in inches and any big leap is followed by a setback. I feel like I’m doing the Cha-Cha-Cha. This is typical. Jack Canfield, author of Chicken Soup for the Soul, talks about the many obstacles he had to overcome to get the book published (144 rejections? A gross of rejections? Sheesh!) and then get it noticed.

The excitement I was talking about is that lottery ticket moment, when they call out the numbers and the first one matches your ticket. Then number two matches. All of a sudden, all things become possible and you feel like you might burst.

Then the third number doesn’t match.

When I buy lottery tickets, I put them in my wallet and forget about them until the next week. When it’s time to buy a new ticket, I pull out the old one and let the machine scan it. That way the anticipation is minimized and the let down is miniscule.

I try to approach launches the same way. Do the best I can to promote the book and don’t think about the results. Today it snuck up on me. Why did I squash it? It’s fun to think about having a runaway best seller and having the Big Six duking it out over you, and movie rights, and, and . . . .

Save your fantasies for your books. Fantasizing about personal success is like a drug. It sets you up for a crash when things don’t play out the way you imagined, and it keeps you from appreciating the results you do get. And like any drug, you always want more.

I read something many years ago that always stuck with me. You know how Van Halen (remember them?) got their record contract? One day this record producer (I think it was a record producer. It was someone important, anyway) wandered into an almost empty bar. There was this band playing their hearts out like they were in front of 1,000 people instead of 3. He knew right then and there that they were the real deal and he had to have them.

Imagine if the band had been focused on how they wanted a big crowd? Then nobody shows up and they get bummed, and their playing shows it, and the VIP isn’t impressed and heads out the door, leaving a half-full beer on the bar. Instead, they had an attitude that was something like, “Hey, this is so cool because we’re musicians and we’ve got a stage and we get to play music,and we love playing music.”

What if someone told them someone who could make their careers was in the audience? Ever blow something because you were putting too much importance on it? Ever focus so hard on winning big that you couldn’t enjoy what you were doing or the success you did have?

Remember Sarah Hughes? She won the Olympic Gold Medal in women’s figure skating the first time she competed. I’ll never forget her. Her performance was amazing. Why? Because she entered that competition in fourth place and thought she didn’t have a skating rink’s chance in you-know-where to win against her idols. She later said she decided to just appreciate skating in the Olympic finals and enjoy herself. I don’t think she was more talented than the other skaters. The three world-class veterans ahead of her were too grimly focused on winning. It showed in their tense and mistake-riddled performances. Sarah focused on skating and radiated pure joy during a perfect performance.

Pretending success isn’t important isn’t a tactic to get the money men knocking on your door. If Van Halen didn’t get the contract, if Sarah Hughes hadn’t won a medal, they would have still enjoyed that moment for all it was worth. It doesn’t hurt that being relaxed and in the moment is likely to result in better performance, and a better performance is more likely to attract attention.

Enjoy what you’re doing. Do the work, but focus on the process and leave the results to come as they will.

Life, On Being a Writer

How Thick Is Your Skin?

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Yesterday, I was watching a video by Jack Canfield, and he said Chicken Soup for the Soul was turned down 144 times before it was published. I thought, “Wow, he must have really thick skin!”

We all get dissed. Our family and dearest friends don’t read our books. Maybe they think it’s silly we write them, or that we’ll never make any money doing it. I hear this over and over again in my writer’s group. Those of us who self-publish still get treated like our money and sales don’t mean anything by authors who publish by ‘legitimate’ means. My mother STILL wants me to look for a ‘real’ publisher. I keep running the numbers for her and she says, “Oh.” Until next time, anyway.

And you thought it was only your family, your friends and your colleagues who were unsupportive?

The one thing that derails success for creative folks more than any other is a thin skin. Every big project I’ve ever done has had naysayers, no matter how great the idea was, or how well it worked out, and it was vital to be able to keep my focus and look for people who did support me.

I wrote my first book as a lark and did not tell anyone about it until the first draft was done. I didn’t have to listen to any critics, and I think a lot of writers operate like that. There’s only one problem with this strategy. It’s essential to gather partners to your success before you’re ready to publish, and it takes time to do that. Thus exposing you to criticism during those crucial early days of developing your dream.

Forty years of creative work have taught me a few things:

  1. Criticism is more about the critic than the thing being criticized. They don’t believe they could pull it off, so therefore, you can’t either.
  2. People who diss you today will forget all about it when you turn out something great.
  3. You have to be 100% behind your project first. Are you willing to invest your time, your money and whatever it takes to make it happen?
  4. People like to be part of the crowd. Get your most likely supporters behind you, then go after the tough sells. List the people they know who are behind your project, and they’re more likely to jump on board.
  5. If they thought it was a great idea, they’d be doing it. If your idea is truly original, NOBODY is going to think it’s brilliant, at least at first. You’re going to have to sell the idea, over and over.
  6. If the criticism is specific, consider it. If it’s valid, use it to improve your project and thank them for pointing it out. Because your detractors will be your best source of information about improving your project. And it will piss them off.

Grab some Kevlar, pour another cup of coffee and keep on keeping on. If nobody gets what you’re doing, you may be onto something wonderful.

Books, Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries

Storm Front: Not Your F-ing Flowers

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stormfront cover

I’m having a hard time as a reader these days. Part of it has to do with becoming an author, giving me less time to read for pleasure and making me choosier as well as more critical of the books I read. Part of it has to do with reading the same series authors since the 90s.

For many of them, their story-lines have become preposterous, or they’ve gotten lazy and they’re phoning it in. I can tell because I still reread the stories that made me fall in love with them. James Patterson has become the McDonalds of popular fiction, farming out a dozen novels every year to a variety of short-order writers.

I was thrilled when the library phoned to say Storm Front was in. Thank God. John Sandford is still a reliable great read. I was in the middle of listening to Rough Country on audio, but happy to set it aside for the new installment in the Virgil (that F-ing) Flowers series.

I usually avoid reading the inside flap on authors I like because I want to be surprised every step of the way. This time I was riding in the car with a friend when I picked it up, so I took a peek. Turns out, Virgil is in pursuit of an artifact with calamitous religious implications smuggled out of Israel. A DaVinci Code knockoff? Not your typical Flowers fare, but what the hey, it’s John Sandford.

So I cracked the spine and turned the pages and found: “I wrote this novel with help from my partner, Michele Cook . . .” and she’s a journalist and screenwriter who never wrote a novel before.

Uh-oh.

I tried, I really did. I made it to page 60, but then I had to stop. It’s not a bad book, exactly. The writing is competent. If this were a college student, I’d give it an A. Not because I wanted to, because they did what they were supposed to. But it lacks the heart that makes a great book live.

I’m sure many people will be perfectly happy with the book. It’s just that it’s not John Sandford, whose ball-scratching masculinity sweats from the pores of every word. Sandford put the “F-ing” in Flowers. This Virgil is a paper doll in comparison.

I’m sure the rest of the book is competent as well. It’s just that I feel like someone gave me tickets to see Elvis and I got Taylor Hicks in a white jumpsuit instead.

Perhaps it’s not fair of me to judge a book I won’t finish, but my time is valuable and so is yours. If you aren’t picky, and you aren’t a rabid Sandford fan, you will probably enjoy this book. But I don’t think Sandford did Cook any favors by putting his name on the cover and setting expectations so high.

You’ve been warned.

Books, Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries, On Being a Writer

Pass Me another Dead Body, Will You?

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Back in the day, long before I ever thought I’d write novels, a woman named Karen Shaffer invited me to bring my signature good-will guerrilla art project, New Leaf, to Abingdon, VA for an arts festival.

There I met her husband, Charles Vess. If you’ve never heard of Charles Vess, he’s an amazing illustrator who became disenchanted with drawing Spiderman for Marvel Comics. When I met him, he had just finished collaborating with Neil Gaiman on Stardust.

He told me he got tired of brawn being the ultimate solution in the comic book world. He went looking for stories that were resolved through ingenuity instead. Fast forward some years, and Stardust is made into a major motion picture featuring both Michelle Pfieffer and Robert De Niro. What does Hollywood do to this terrific book? They tossed in a lot of the POW! BAM! that Charles had turned his back on.

I enjoyed the movie and have watched it several times. I do not enjoy it more than the book despite the appearance of Robert De Niro in a :-X (sorry, can’t tell you. I don’t do spoilers).

As I was considering my recent review of Elysium, I remembered this bit of irony, and it brought to mind popular plot devices (read: lazy shortcuts) that disturb me as a mystery novelist.

One of the most over-abused practices: “If the pace drags, kill someone.”

This has become so popular that even romantic suspense writers such as Amanda Quick now litter their books with multiple corpses. When she started her writing career, one dead body would do just fine.

I’m not a prude about dead bodies. My first two books were about a serial killer (it says that, right in the blurb). But there just aren’t all that many serial killers out there, and ordinary, run of the mill murderers do not normally leave a trail of bodies behind them to cover up their crimes.

So I’m in the middle of novel number three, and I’m thinking about pacing without the easy device of gratuitous murder. I read some experts.

What do writing gurus have to say about plotting? There are variations on the exact wording, but the common wisdom is that “A plot is a series of disasters that get progressively worse as the book goes along until the triumph (or not) of the final confrontation.”

Seriously? I like to think my characters are smarter than that.

This makes me think about Patricia Cornwell, whose books I used to love until the exacerbating negativity finally got to me. The last book she wrote, I’d finally had enough. Within the first two pages, Kay Scarpetta is fuming about some bit of incompetence engineered by Pete Marino. She’s kept this guy around for twenty years with all the stuff he’s pulled and she hasn’t gotten rid of him? Why does everyone she works with eventually betray her? Is she that big a bitch?

And what about Lucy and Benton? Why do we never see her having a good time with the two people she loves most? Does she really love anyone? Why hasn’t someone sent her to the therapist she so obviously needs? This is entertainment?

So, yes, a novel needs obstacles or it isn’t compelling, or even real. But I like some triumphs and good times, too.

Other devices that annoy me: undetectable poisons that kill rapidly in tiny amounts, over-reliance on a network of readily available informants, silenced guns that are actually silent, same day DNA tests, and protagonists who have more money than God so they can drive around in fancy cars and fly to Bimini to pursue clues at the drop of a hat.

Edit: My friend, Jacques, just reminded me about duct-work large enough for a football lineman to crawl through. Doh.

Edit #2: More of a movie convention, but still worth mentioning: Endless thugs that multiply like tribbles, especially the ones who teleport in front of you, no matter how fast you’re going or how many times you’ve eluded them.

Where am I going with this rant? I have a small request to make. While I might slip from time to time, if I ever become reliant on such silly devices, please put a drop of that undetectable poison in my coffee and put me out of my misery.

Books, On Being a Writer

Some Really Great Advice About Writing and Everything Else

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George Wier, if you haven’t heard of him, is author of the Bill Travis Mysteries. These days he is spending most of his time hopping around the Southwest doing book signings for Long Fall From Heaven. He still finds time to pop into our online writer’s group.

George at a recent book convention
George at a recent book convention

Last night he shared the following. This beautiful little essay on writing had me thinking of the New York Sun op-ed piece written over a hundred years ago. You know the one I mean. It begins, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

Here’s George:

A bit of advice I gave someone yesterday on writing. Maybe I should start paying attention to it myself:

Marc,

While I would never dissuade you from reading other writers, or reading as much as you can on the subject of writing, I suggest that you dive in head first. As a reader you know what you like to read. I suggest you write exactly what you yourself like to read, and nothing more. Also, you should start writing out of the blue. In fact, get used to writing the moment (if possible) an idea hits you so that what you put down can be raw and true and from the gut. There ARE NO authorities on writing. You are the authority on your OWN writing. Period. So, write for you, first. Second, write a lot. Hone your skills, either over time or through a high degree of output, or both (as it usually works out that way anyway). As far as the “length” of what you should write, forget about length. Right now, at this stage, that’s not even in the equation. A story is it’s own universe, just as I say in the videos. It has it’s own internal laws. And what you write in a story will come out right if you pay ZERO attention to length, or whether there’s too much dialogue, or not enough of this or that, or whatever. Don’t put your attention on anything other than telling the story. And… at BEST, the story will begin to write itself. You’ll know what this feels like when it begins to happen. There is no other feeling quite like it. For me it is like being carried along by a strong current. It has swept you out to the middle of the channel and it is taking you somewhere. It’s best not to fight it, but to instead go along. Don’t bother swimming against the current, or even necessarily WITH the current, and definitely not towards shore. Just tuck your hands behind your head and let that story carry you along. That’s the best advice I can give.

So, Marc, what I want you to do is…today, or tomorrow, or as soon as you can, sit down and write something. And don’t worry about whether it’s good or not. Just write it. For it’s own sake. And that is really all there is. I could teach a seminar for weeks on the subject, but really, it all comes down to just this paragraph. Just…write.

Here’s George again, snuggling with his dog:

George and Casey
George and Casey

Aztec Diet, Care and Feeding of Canine Companions, Diet, On Being a Writer

Aztec Diet Day 38: Little Foil Men

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Pounds lost: 18

Pre-Breakfast: apple; Breakfast: Dr. Bob’s Kale Blueberry Smoothie; Lunch: venison stew; Snack: apple; Dinner: low-fat cottage cheese with 2 TBSP chia, topped with an avocado and peach mango salsa; Snack: 2 celery ribs and a small handful of zucchini chips

New Crocs

I think my absences in the evening are upsetting Shadda. This morning I couldn’t find one of my Crocs. After hunting all over the apartment, I found it in one of the dog beds with the strap chewed off. This is the first time she’s eaten one of my shoes in a couple years. So maybe she misses me. Or maybe she’s just tired of me wearing these everywhere, looking like some kind of duck-footed dork.

I’m getting tired of tuna. And venison. I’m longing for a lovely pot of curried black beans. I was thinking about that tonight. Then I looked around me. More than 60 people in my work room, with stations every 4 feet. A sudden influx of beans would be horribly antisocial. That means humus is out, too. Dang it. Curse real jobs, and the need for social acceptability.

I did better than ever with not being hungry at work. I believe stirring 2 TBSP chia into my cottage cheese did the trick. It made a nice meal with avocado and salsa. It’s a meal well worth repeating.

Little Foil Men

As for writing, I’m mostly considering what kind of love offerings Eric can leave for Lia. Something that would appeal to the artist in her and only later strike her as a bit creepy. Like maybe little dioramas made out of scrunched up tinfoil. Never heard of this? It’s one of my favorite crafts. A couple years ago, I made an entire soccer game for the Northside Branch Library. Why? Why not? Does that make me weird?

Aztec Diet, Diet, Food, On Being a Writer

Aztec Diet Day 36: Zucchini Chips and Big Moments

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Weight Lost: 18 pounds

Pre-Breakfast: 1/2 ruby red grapefruit; Breakfast and Lunch: All Day Chocolate Cherry Banocado Plus; Snack: low-fat cottage cheese and 3 ribs celery; Dinner: Tuna Sandwich on sprouted grain bread; Snack: air popped popcorn

Today Jane posted the first 15 minutes of the audiobook of A Shot in the Bark. I was so nervous, I put off listening to it until after I was able to settle myself. Turns out the woman is an even bigger genius than I thought she was. And no, I’m not sharing her last name until I get both books out of her. I wish there was some way to share the recording with you. So I was having a “WOW” moment today.

I used to celebrate big moments with chocolate. Or cheesecake. Or chocolate cheesecake. If it was a really big moment, a fillet, followed by a Chocolate Stampede. I haven’t figured out what to do instead. I don’t drink, so champagne is out. Getting a massage would be great, except you can’t get a good massage on the spur of the moment. At least, I can’t. Maybe you can. When I have an answer to this problem, you’ll be the first to know.

I made it through work without anyone flinging chocolate at me. I suspect I’ll be okay for the next couple weeks, as long as I keep appropriate snacks on hand. No need to worry until the project winds down. Then, one of two things will happen. Either we will be ahead and the work will come slow, with lots of down time conducive to boredom snacking (not good), or we will be behind, and the bowls of chocolate and assorted candy will be passed around from station to station to give us a little something help us keep our focus (also not good).

I need something to chew on that won’t make me fat. Like a piece of rope soaked with hickory smoke.

Today I made dehydrated zucchini chips, thinking this would make a good snack for work. They taste like potato chips, but are sweeter. There’s no frying or oil involved. Zucchini is low in carbohydrates and calories and contains fiber. I popped the first batch into the dehydrator about noon, and they were ready after I got home from work at 10 p.m. I miscalculated, though. I thought 5 zucchinis would make enough chips to last the rest of the week. These are addictive. I’ll be lucky if they last more than 24 hours.

My neighbors, Mike and Marti Dourson (source of Peter Dourson’s name), gave me a t-shirt for Christmas. They had it made up special. It says, “Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.” I wore it tonight. So Eric, my team leader, asked me if he was going to be in my novel. I told him he might. I have not shared with him what I do to the people I put in my novels. He’d have better odds for survival as a Red Shirt on Star Trek. And a cleaner end, should it come to that. I’ve been thinking he’d make a really great stalker. Maybe I’ll let him choose his own demise. That would be the polite thing to do.

Zucchini Chips

    Slice zucchini thin, about 1/8″. A food processor is fastest, but you’re likely to wind up with paper-thin chips. A mandolin works fine and gives more control and consistency. You can slice them by hand as well.
    Lay out on dehydrator trays (if you have one) or on baking sheets lined with parchment (if you don’t).
    Sprinkle lightly with salt or other spice of choice, such as cumin, pepper, curry, etc.
    Dehydrate at 115 degrees for about 6 – 10 hours, depending how thin your slices are. you can flip these halfway through. It’s not necessary, but it will prevent sticking. If baking, bake in a warm oven for a couple hours, keeping an eye on them. Flip when the tops are crisp and continue baking until done. I can’t give you exact times, because I’ve never made them in an oven.

Excalibur Food Dehydrator

I use an Excalibur 4 tray dehydrator. It’s a decent machine, though If I were to buy another, I’d get the 9 tray. It’s got a more reliable thermostat and you can dehydrate twice as much food. This is the one I’d get: http://www.amazon.com/Excalibur-3900B-Deluxe-Dehydrator-Black/dp/B004Z915M4/


All Day Chocolate Cherry Banocado Plus.
Banocado means the base is a banana and an avocado. Plus means I added a big handful of spinach. This is perfect for two servings or for an all-day smoothie.

    1/2 Cups frozen sweet cherries
    1 banana
    1 avocado
    1 large handful of baby spinach
    1 heaping TBSP cacao powder or cocoa
    2 – 4 TBSP ground chia seeds
    1/2 TSP ground ginger (optional)
    Water, to desired consistency
Aztec Diet, Books, Diet, Food, Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries, On Being a Writer

Aztec Diet: Out of the Office

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My New Blender
I missed posting yesterday. Looks like I won’t be able to get back here until later tonight. I’m still on my diet. I got a new blender, which I LOVE. http://www.amazon.com/Oster-BVCB07-Z-Counterforms-7-Speed-Stainless/dp/B002RBXHSC/ And it looks like the last several days of stalled weight (and my chocolate binge of yesterday) were due to a normal influx of hormones. Drool Baby is even back on the top 100 list for Mystery Series at Amazon. Things are back on track.

I’ve been tied up because I contracted with a narrator to produce an audiobook of A Shot in the Bark. I’m terminally jazzed. She’s got a terrific versatile voice and is very professional. I think she’s going to be perfect for Lia. AND she got right on it. So I had to put everything else on hold while I got production notes together. I have high hopes for release before the end of May. If all goes well, Drool Baby will be close behind.

Today’s Saturday, the day I usually plug a couple fellow writers – Give them a look-see!

First Book in the Julie O'Hara Mystery Series

When her best friend is murdered, Julie O’Hara, a body language expert, packs up her suspicion and flies to Boston for his funeral. Who could have killed rising artist Marc Solomon, and what does Castle Cay, the Solomon’s mysterious Caribbean island, have to do with it? Before long, Julie’s sixth-sense pulls a hidden string that unravels a deadly conspiracy…and her own troubled past.

http://amzn.to/13IRzNi

As if one murder weren't enough. . .

Nightmares of a horrific car accident haunt Amber, and the scars go deep. As she struggles to regain memories of the past few years, Amber receives a phone call from an old high school friend, a woman who has been missing for three months. The call is disconnected as her friend pleads for help.

With her neighbor at her side, Amber digs into the disappearance, but sinister men are watching and they don’t like Amber’s meddling. While danger lurks, Amber discovers secrets that may unravel her life.

Someone wants those secrets buried…

“A twisty, intense mystery that scares, surprises, and satisfies” Traci Tyne Hilton (Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery series)

http://ow.ly/fL9oB

I’m off to the dog park, because Poo waits for no man. Or woman. I’ll catch you up as soon as I can. Promise.

Keep Chugging that Chia!

Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries, On Being a Writer

Help! I Misplaced My Inner Psycho

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I have this problem.

Since 2010, I have been gleefully knocking people off in as many ways as I can imagine. Many of them deserved it. Some were no loss to society. Others I didn’t know well enough to care. And this has all made for great fun. My stuff has certainly kept my mother amused, even if it does have my stepmother worried about my mental health.

Suddenly, I’ve lost my mojo.

You see, I fell in love. I wrote this character. She’s a nice lady. Middle aged, a bit lonely, and reaching out to grab a bit of happiness for herself. Just an ordinary woman given new life by an affair she shouldn’t be in. I created her to be the victim in my current Work In Progress. So she has to die. If she doesn’t die, there’s no body. And if there’s no body, there’s no mystery to solve and no book. I guess someone else could die, but if they did she would have no reason for being. And that would be worse, because I really love her.

I love who she is and where she’s been. And I really, really, really wish there was some way to give this poor woman a happy ending.

I can’t think of one single, solitary reason why she should die. Everything in me rebels against it. She’s a nice lady and doesn’t deserve it. I tried to find a way around it. She’s not really dead, just missing. It’s some other body they mistook for her. I worked that one in my head, played it off Mary Ann at the park in as many variations as we could conjure. We failed to find a solution. We came to the conclusion that there is no (reasonable) way to plot this book unless this unfortunate woman bites it.

And I can’t bring myself to do it.

It’s got me stalled. I can’t do it, and I haven’t been able to create the character who’s going to do it for me. Is it the cold wife? The perfect daughter? The slacker son? The housekeeper’s unemployed brother? The milkman, who is really the twin she was separated from at birth?

I listed the players. Invented a few more potential peripheral characters. I’ve been brainstorming motives for all of them, looking for my killer. Nothing resonates. Nothing gets me excited. My reaction to all of it is “Meh.”

I’ve got to get over this. What’s a mystery without a murder?

Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries, Life, On Being a Writer

What Now?

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Drool Baby
My Latest Release

This morning I pushed the button on “Drool Baby” over at KDP, and the book went live on Amazon after a year of wrestling with it.

So what did I do after that? I took a nap. A long, glorious, don’t-have-to-do-anything-or-be-anywhere nap.

I’m looking forward to spending the next week catching up with all the things that I’ve neglected during this last, long push to publication.

I’m excited that it looks like I’ve won the race to finish the book before a cold snap kills all my basil and parsley. I may get to make pesto this year, after all. And a big batch of tabooli.

The dogs can look forward to getting a bath. Chewy is getting groomed one last time before winter.

My mechanic doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to see me next week for an oil change.

I’m going to read books somebody else wrote.

I swear I’m going to call my mother. And my stepmother, and my sister . . .

I might even get my hair cut.

I’m going to relax and enjoy the little things. Like clearing the biology experiments out of my refrigerator.

Then, after I’ve had a chance to start feeling human again, I’m going to take a deep breath, look around me, and figure out who I can knock off next.