Writing: and the angst goes on

I am 30,000 words into my work-in-progress, but the remaining 40,000 loom before me like a great chasm. I'm not sure who's behind all the bad stuff that's going on in the novel, and I've got one character who is so enigmatic I don't know if she's one of the good guys or bad, a victim, a martyr, or--maybe--a heroine. Hey, I like that idea. Kelly seems to be waiting for things to happen, but she has to be pro-active if she's to be the protagonist. I have scads of notes, but no outline--that's not my style. My mentor/beta reader/good friend/whatever-he-is has read the first 10,000 words--I gave them to him when I was desperate, but now I've moved on beyond that, changed a major plot element, and made lots of other changes. We're to have lunch next week, and he'll give me his comments--always sharp and incisive, written out so that I can study them. But it's changed so much I now think I was hasty--or panicked--in giving the first bit to him. I keep remembering the words of a fellow mystery writer that the point of a first draft is simply to get to the end.
Last night I read sixty fives pages of Polly Iyer's Murder Deja Vu. (A note of explanation: Polly is a friend; I've never met her, but she's a fellow member of Sisters in Crime and fairly active on the Guppies sub-list; we've exchanged Facebook comments, and I definitely feel she's a friend.) The tension in the opening pages of this novel was terrific, and I was mesmerized, only put it down because I knew I had to be up early. The story has a much harder edge than what I write, and for a few minutes I beat myself up because I don't write like that. But then I explained to myself, with fair success, that each of us write what we write, the way we do it. I suspect it has something to do with the way we see the world. That may make me a Pollyanna type, but so be it. I started out as a  young-adult author way back when and later so tired of agents reading adult manuscripts and telling me they thought they were for the y/a audience. But another friend, commenting on a post on "Judy's Stew" wrote "You made me care about your characters, so you are doing something right. Buck up!" So I will.
But not tonight and not this weekend. I'm taking a brief holiday. Sunday is my birthday, and I'll spend the weeked surrounded by family and friends. I'll read a lot, while grandchildren swim, and put all thoughts of Kelly O'Connell and her unsolved mystery out of my mind. Monday, when I get back to work, I will check the first round of edits on another author's manuscript that I'm editing. So maybe after a break, I'll go back with renewed enthusiasm.
The motto for all writers is, I suspect, "Persevere." There's a lot of advice out there, but that one word seems to sum it up.
Happy weekend everyone.

My big news

Today I signed a contract with Turquoise Morning Press. They will publish my first mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, though I have no pub date yet. Hoping for 2012. Turquoise Morning is a young press, founded by two women who write romances. The list at first was all romance, but they are branching out into mystery, I gather particularly cozy mystery. I think they will publish in trade paperback and e-book formats, and I'm happy with both. In correspondence, the staff has been responsive, friendly, and enthusiastic. I am truly looking forward to the experience of working with them. And of seeing my first mystery in print, although it is far from my first book. I've always been an avid reader of cozy mysteries, and for the last few years I've told myself if others could do it, so could I. But it's been a long and difficult road, with many disappointments along the way. The world of publishing is changing so fast,(especially the focus on the New York "big" pubishers) and though mystery writers aren't quite competetive with each other (we call ourselves sisters, after all), there are a lot of us. It's easy to get lost in the crowd.
Most publishers want a series, usually at least three books, and the second in my series, tentatively titled No Neighborhood for Old Women (with apologies to Cormac McCarthy) is in its second draft, and I have ideas for the third book rattling around in my head.
I'm not sure this feels real yet. You'd have thought this was another snow day--actually it was a beautiful day in the seventies--but I never did venture beyond the house and back yard. I had plenty to do--haven't yet done all of it--and I was content to stay home. Tomorrow I'll get out. But I have serious work to do--the chili book, a review book, and then back to fiction. But my point is I didn't celebrate. I did announce the contract on the listserv of Guppies, a sub-group of Sisters in Crime. After all, I found Turquoise Morning because of an in-depth interview on the listserv of the Guppies sub-group Guppiespressquest, which studies small presses now publishing mysteries. When I announced it, I was deluged with wonderful, warm congratualtions. A lot of Guppies are toasting me tonight with their Valentine wine and chocolate. They are the ones who truly understand what a big thing this is. It also means lots of work--writing, promotion, etc. But it's what I retired to do--and I'm happy. And lest they feel slighted--I have to say my family is full of praise and excited about this. I think Thursday Betty and I are going to a posh restaurant, so that will be my celebration (I have a coupon:-).
Five stars to Lorraine Bartlett's A Crafty Killing, a cozy set in an artists' mall. I love the concept of a huge building, like an antique mall, devoted to artists' work. The building is in Victoria Square (in a fictional town near Rochester--NY, I suppose, but maybe Minnesota). So the whole atmosphere is Victorian, and there are lots of wonderful characters--and a few bad ones. I decided this afternoon, with my desk piled high, that finishing that book was the thing I had to do first. My reasoning was that if I finished it, it would no longer tempt me. Now I'm reading a serious (and probably heavy) book on the place of literature in today's culture. Good to stretch the mind.

Writing is art; publishing is business

A couple of years ago I joined Sisters in Crime, on the advice of author Susan Wittig Albert, and then the AgentQuest listserv--postings by authors who were trying to find agents. It's a pretty difficult thing to get an agent,  yet this group is uniformly supportive and there's not a trace of competition--okay, a few admit to occasional twinges of jealousy but they rally. News of rejection after rejection is met with condolences and advice to get out there and submit again. Some of these writers  have submitted twenty queries, some a hundred or more, and still they keep going. Agents have a variety of canned reasons for rejection: I just didn't love it enough; I don't know where I could sell it; your writing is excellent but it's just not for me. Bottom line: this is a tough market, both for writers to place with an agent and agents to place a work with a publisher. It's partly the crowded mystery field and it's partly the economy--at least that's my take on things.
As I posted not long ago, I had an agent for a  year. He sent my manuscript to eleven publishers and announced he couldn't sell it. I'll give him credit--he sent it to all the "big" names and then a few. There are actually six "big" publishers these days who can make your fame and fortune. I guess I never really thought of achieving fame or fortune, and after that rejection, I got honest with myself. I am not a "breakout" writer (at my age I probably don't have enough writing years to establish a Sandra Brown-like career and maybe I don't have the talent or the chutzpah--take your choice). But I do believe in my writing and want to publish it.
My manuscript, "Skeleton in a Dead Space," has now been shopped; no other agent is going to look at it when it's been rejected by all the major mystery pubishers. Like a lot of others, I'm weighing the pros and cons of small presses vs. self-publishing, probably with Amazon, which offers an attractive package of print-on-demand paper copies and e-book publication. Self-publishing has lost the stigma that it once had, and I am truly tempted by this route. Fred Erisman, my mentor, has re-read the manuscript (for the umpteenth time, poor man) and declares he still thinks it's publishable, has no corrections or changes to suggest but a few ideas. I hope to get with him in the next week to hear those ideas. And to talk over with him the merits of various means of publication. One thought that keeps coming back to me is that it can take a small publisher a year to consider a manuscript--at 72, I'm not that patient. I want to see that manusript published and move on to others, lke the one I've almost finished.
The point I've been workikng around to is that someone posted on the Guppy (Going to be Published) Small Press Quest list how free she felt once she had given up the idea of an agent. She was enjoying writing again and not dreading the next ding of her e-mail, which might well be a rejection. The Guppies also have a wonderfukl role model in Susan Schreyer who has just posted her first novel on Kindle, Death by a Dark Horse. She's done a terrific job of marketing, and her book is selling--it's next on my reading list.
I have one e-book available from Smashwords and Kindle (the short story collection, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance http://www.amazon.com/Ellen-Learns-Dance-Stories-ebook/dp/B00466HT7Q/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1290048693&sr=1-1) and plan to post my 1988 Spur Award-winning novel, Mattie, soon (see, it's a business. You learn to overcome modesty and go for blatant self promotion). The trick is to build up readers, and the more titles you have the better. I have also created an Amazon author's page (http://www.amazon.com/Judy-Alter/e/B001H6KPU6/ref=sr_tc_img_2_0?qid=1290048839&sr=1-2-ent). The trouble is, I'm posting western Americana titles when I want to build a mystery readers' base. Maybe that will come next.
Wow, I have gone on too long about this. But, yes, publishing is a business. And figuring out marketing e-books or choosing a small press takes as much research as getting an agent. It just doesn't bring the rejection, and that's good.

Campaign work and an email day

Fun doing phone calls at the Bill White campaign headquarters today. When I first started several weeks ago, I was the only one in the room (which I kind of liked) but today, as the election draws near, there were about ten people in there making phone calls (a bit distracting for my challenged ears). Still, I talked to lots of people who were going to vote for White and one man whose disparaging comments about Republicans I can't repeat. Then there was the lady who said, "I've had enough of the other guy. Haven't you?" I assured her I'd had more than enough. Sure, there were about three who told me they knew who they were going to vote for and it wouldn't be Bill White. So be it. I was nonetheless encouraged by the support for him I saw.
Lunch with an old and good friend and then home where I surely dealt with 100 emails between 1:30 and eight tonight--mostly Sisters in Crime and Guppies (going to be published). They're time consuming, but I'm afraid to skip any because some have valuable information. A nap, a bike ride, a supper of leftovers, and I'm back at my desk, hope to get to read tonight.

A mishmash day

No profound thoughts today. Got going pretty early, went to Central Market for just a few items--how do you go for just a few things and end up spending $45? I did it. Came home, dealt with about fifty e-mails, and went to the employees' book review lunch at TCU. A book by Wendi Pierce with Rick Steed on Historic Day Trips from Dallas/Fort Worth. Lots of history, which I find fascinating, though some was pretty bloody--they delved into such topics as the case of a man named Wilbarger who was the first Anglo to be scalped and survive. Apparently they read historical markers and then did research--kind of stuff I love. Susan Oakley, who puts these lunches together, asked what you do when you're with someone who doesn't want to stop at markers because "We're making such good time." It's that old dilemma--is the trip your goal or the destination. My ex-husband was of the school where you get in the car, go by the most direct method, and don't get out until you get where  you're going; I love backroads and small towns and bits of history. I remember the time a friend and I took an entire long day to drive from Amarillo to Fort Worth (normally a six-hour drive)--we drove around the square of every small town, stopped in junk stores, looked for the Waggoner mansion in Decatur, had a grand time. I'm afraid I'm too often a passenger in a car where the destination is the goal. Anyway, I enjoyed this book program--though I think my hearing is getting worse. Even with my hearing aids, I missed a lot of it.
Tonight  Betty and I went to one of our favorite places, Sapristi's. Usually we split the tapas platter, but it had spicy eggplant that the waiter assured us was really spicy (not for me) and a potato fritatta--the Spanish have a name for it that I can't remember, but I don't particularly care for it. So I had a delicious crab cake and a Caesar salad--so good!
Now I'm home wading through more e-mails and trying to collect my thoughts. My hectic week is turning out quite manageable, and the next two days look easy. I need to go back to my novel--have some good ideas for rewrites that I must study, but why rewrite until  you finish the darn thing? I think a part of my brain is waiting for the two other possible jobs--paying jobs, I should add. When I read Guppies posts (Going to be Published) I realize that I'm a real slacker. Those ladies devote every day to their writing, whereas I go back to it whenever, waiting for some sign from the heavens. Then again, they all e-mail so much that I don't know how they have time to write. It takes me much of the day just to read the e-mails.

Family on my mind

My lovely daughter Megan emailed me today, forwarding a message from her legal assistant that thanked her for always being so lovely to work with. Megan said she told her all the lovely parts of her personality came from her mom. What a great thing for one of my grown children to say! Of course I told her she was lovely--and a flirt--at such a young age that I can't claim responsbility. But I'm glad she feels that way. I love you, Megan!
Kevin and Jenny have been on my mind today. He left on a noon flight for Fort Benning and then on to Afghanistan, and I keep thinking this is the beginning of what will be a very long year for them--and they're only hours into it. He's off to an adventure, however reluctantly, in a world that he understands--I was amazed last night listening to him explain what his life will be like over there. But Jenny is left to wait, and I ache for her. Fortunately she has wonderful family support.
Christian had a birthday today while in Florida. I won't say which one because I think he's getting a tad touchy about it. But I hope it was a happy day--they'll be home tomorrow night, and I'll be glad to have them back in town.
And I've thought about my brother and Cindy picking me up for dinner and how nice it is to be so close to them and so comfortable with them--there were years when we weren't that close, and I'm enjoying what age has brought us. Nothing beats family, and I am blessed.
Hot today. A friend posted the heat index on Facebook--something like 107--and I responded that I prefer to ignore the heat index and just look at the temperature, which is bad enough. I long for the days before anyone knew anything about a heat index. Scooby knows it's hot and has been lounging on his bed all afternoon--when I asked a bit ago if he wanted to go out, he looked at me with one eye like, "Surely you jest." I will have to force the issue soon.
Vacation day: I had lunch with Fred, my mentor, and we talked about  my novel. I fully intended to come home and jump into it, but I'm in the midst of reading a mystery, Indigo Dying by Susan Wittig Albert, and decided I'd allow myself the luxury of finishing that first. I need to get my head out of one fictional world before trying to concentrate on another. But I can feel ideas bouncing around in my subconscious. Things I've read lately on the Guppies (Going to be Published) listserv are there too--specifically about microtension in scenes, whether or not you use adverbs (usually a no-no but British writers use them frequently), and how to tag dialog--if you repeatedly use "said" it gets boring but if you get too carried away-'"exhorted, mandated, commanded, etc."--it distracts the reader. I think I'll go by instinct.

Why Writers Write

The Guppies listserv, a branch of Sister in Crime for those who are "going to be published," has been running a series of comments from "pre-published" authors answering questions such as where are you on your work in progress, is this your first manuscript, what's hardest for you--plotting, characterization, etc., and what do you do when you get discouraged. The answers are all over the place--some people are on their first manuscript, others have old ones stacked in the deep freeze. Many find plotting hard (me among them) but for others it's simply finding the time to write--or the drive--or the energy. But the thing that has struck me is that so many have said things like, "I like my characters. I want to stick with them," or "I am not healthy if I don't write--I have to go into therapy" or "I can't imagine not writing." One woman said she writes e-mails, blogs, anything to be creative if she's stuck on a story.
I know exactly how they feel. If I don't have something on my desk to write, I'm at loose ends. I'm fortunate right now to have two projects: the novel in progress and the nonfiction book. Lately I've been concentrating on the latter, but since Fred Erisman re-read my novel (about half a novel) and  decided his earlier questions were irrelevant and he "is hooked," I feel myself being drawn back to the novel and its possibilities. I'll have lunch with him Friday, and I'm sure we'll talk about it.
When people ask my why I blog, it's the same answer--it's a chance to write to the world. I have long felt that working things out in words is the same as a mathematician working things out in number. I just can't, God help me, do anything but the most elementary math.