Losing your mind is not a requirement for being an author, all evidence to the contrary

I have had an agent for the last five years or so. She’s submitted two novels for me over that time (we had a lot of nice personal responses but no sale). Since the second one going back in the drawer she has become less responsive, which makes sense - I’m going down the priority list. I sent her a new one last April, just as the COVID situation was kicking off. It’s now going on ten months and she’s sent me a couple of apologetic emails but hasn’t read past the prologue, citing being behind in her reading due to COVID. Now I haven’t heard from her in four months. 

My question is, is it reasonable / sane for me to pull the plug on our relationship after ten months? She’s in London and I’m in Australia and I’m aware that the COVID situation there is bad, but I’m just not hearing from her. I wrote this book because she liked the pitch and I’m terrified of never being able to get another agent, but I’m losing my mind!

Until you said she was in London, I was wondering if you were talking about me.

I have gotten behind on my client reading this past year.

I'm more caught up now but I'm still not as current as both my clients and I wish I was.

But, it's time for a heart to heart with your agent.

Don't try to make this decision in a vacuum.

Talk to her. Tell her you're feeling like a low priority. Tell her that if she doesn't like this new book, just say so. It's better to know than be left wondering.

Yes, we're all navigating strange new ways to do business, but this problem is one I've seen for decades. It's NOT a function of the pandemic.
 

 An agent who is not reading and subbing your work is just as career stalling as no agent.

Dodging a Bullet vs Missing Your Chance

 

I recently received an email from a writer who had queried me in 2015. The email was to inform me they were self-publishing, and I'd missed my chance.

To hang on to the sting of rejection for five years, let alone now take the time to email me about it  now, indicates a tenacity I wish was put to better use.

And what Righteous Writer doesn't know is that this kind of email means I dodged a bullet, not missed a chance.

Here's why: the writers I want to work with get better with each book. Ask most working writers about something they wrote five years ago, and before you even stop speaking, they've got a red pen in each hand, and a fourth behind the ear to mark up what they want to fix and improve.

My own limited experience here on the blog bears this out. When people link to an old post of mine on Twitter, I'm glad for the shout out, but I'm even happier to get a chance to go back and fix some things I didn't notice at the time.

Does your experience support this?

Are you a better writer now than you were five years ago?

Did I dodge a bullet or miss a chance with you?  

Contests

On a whim, with COVID time on my hands, and after doing some research and finding mixed opinions, I paid my $75 and entered a novel in the (Contest). I was surprised (and pleased, I guess) to be named a finalist.

The question is, does it mean anything? Judging is anonymous. Is placing in the contest worth mentioning in queries etc.? 

 

The first question you want to ask about any contest is how much does it cost to enter.

You've told us $75.

That means the contest is intended to make money for someone NOT find the best book in any category.

If the goal is to find the best book in any category, you want to choose from the widest pool not the one determined by who's got an extra $75 lying around. And an entry fee like that precludes most publishers from entering their best books. The cost for them would be a big factor.

The second question you want to ask is who won the year before.

Do you recognize ANY of the finalists or the winner?

If you win a contest and no one notices, does it help you?

As for including this info in a query, don't.

It doesn't help and it could hurt.

 

It's not a deal breaker by any means, BUT including it as though it was something to indicate your book is good, well, that just demonstrates lack of knowledge about how contests work.

 

It's ok not to know things of course, but you don't want to flaunt that lack of knowledge as a big plus.

 

There are some other blog posts on this topic

 

Anne R. Allen 

 

SFWA 

 

My own blog post 

 

Any questions?

 

 

 

 

Avoid this error

I recently received email that I'm NOT going to describe as snippy cause I think that was more my response to it than the intent of the sender.

It said "oh gosh, sorry, thought you'd be interested" and the "quote email" was a read notice.

This author had queried me the day before and gotten the read notice.

And no reply from me.

And assumed I'd passed.

WRONG.

You get a read notice if I OPEN the email, which I do (at least google thinks I do) when I pull it out of my inbox and file it in INCOMING QUERIES.

I hadn't passed at all.

In fact, I hadn't read past the first line.

I responded to the author, pointing out the error of the assumption.

And honestly, as things go, this isn't even close to ass-hattery.

BUT, don't do it.

Don't assume a read notice is a pass if you don't get a reply.

And really don't email someone if you're assuming a pass, UNLESS you've let enough time pass.  I don't reply to my queries every day.

I save them up for when I'm gripped by blood lust for tasty tasty writers.

Things to leave out of your query

1. The manuscript is complete.

2. You're seeking representation.

3. You're willing to edit

4. You're willing to promote

5. You hope I'll respond.

6. You hope I'll like your book

You don't have to say them because an agent reading your query assumes those things already.

Save your word count for developing the plot.

When your reader is a dunderhead

 I subscribe to Poetry Magazine.

It comes once a month, and if I diligently read one poem a day, I can finish the whole issue. (I fail at that goal more often than I succeed.)

Because I haven't gone to the post office for ten days, I'm still reading the December issue even though it is now January.

I'm glad I had the extra days cause I found a poet this morning that really caught my eye.

First with this

and then with a poem called "Friendly Skies, or, Black Woman Speaks Herself Into God"

After I read that poem, I checked the author listings to see if the poet had any published collections. The bio mentioned a book called Reparations Now, due out from Hub City Press this year.

So I googled Hub City Press and found the tab Bookshop.

 I clicked and because I've had this happen before, I understood I was now at the indie alternative to Amazon site, Bookshop.

 Which is lovely, but it's got All The Books, not just Hub City titles.

 And Ashley M. Jones was nowhere to be found, most likely cause her book Reparations Now isn't due out until September.

 But I pressed on cause I REALLY wanted that book.

I went to Amazon. Aha!

 The Amazon description mentions this is her third book.

And since I like math, I knew that meant there were two other books.

So I clicked on her Amazon Author profile.

And sure enough there was one book.

I bought it.

And when I did, Amazon's algorithm coughed up the second.

And so I bought that too.

 Now, here's the thing: Ashley M. Jones has lovely, wonderful website. It's right there.

In plain view.

But I didn't even google to see if she had one.

Yes, sometimes I am my own best example of idiocy.

So, figure on some of your fans being complete dunderheads. Just like me.

Make SURE your bio (on Twitter, on reviews you write, on short stories you get published) mentions the place you want readers to find you. Most often this will be your website.

But also, think about how people will look for you. Will they google the title of your book? Do that to see where you come up on the search results.

What about your name? Google yourself to see where your website shows up in the search results. 

It's the start of a new year.

This is a good project for you.

Any questions?

Using Casablanca to think about tension

 

The prologue to the movie sets up the theme of the movie: people are desperate to get out of Europe and Casablanca is the last stop before Lisbon and "the Clipper to America".

The story starts with news of the murdered couriers, couriers carrying documents, being broadcast by the French police.

The tension begins because the murderers are believed to be headed for Casablanca.

The desire to leave Europe is given a face by the Bulgarian couple who see the plane to Lisbon. The woman says wistfully "perhaps tomorrow we'll be on the plane."

Thus the two elements of the story are introduced: the letters of transit and the people who want them.

Signor Ugarte is revealed to have the transit documents when he gives them to Rick to hide.

Now we know what the documents are, their value, and who has them.

Tension rises when French police captain Renault tells Rick that notorious freedom fighter Victor Laszlo will be in the cafe that evening, and that Laszlo is in dire need of exit visas.

(A character must want something for there to be tension; Laszlo wants the visas. Often in editing notes this is noted as "what does the main character want?")

Laszlo and Ilse Lund come to the cafe. They're told Ugarte has been arrested and thus will not be able to sell the transit papers as promised.

The tension rises when the solution to the problem is blocked. (Ugarte has been arrested, the papers no longer available.)

The audience is left wondering what will happen next which is the essence of tension.

End of Act 1

The next morning, the location of the transit papers is discussed by German officer Strasser and Captain Renault. Strasser theorizes the papers are at Rick's cafe and tells Renault to search.

The tension here is that the audience knows the papers are there because we saw Rick hide them the night before. We wonder if Renault will find them.

The tension abates somewhat because he does not find them.

This is a smaller incident of tension, it doesn't really address the problem Laszlo has.

Laszlo and Ilse come to Renault's office and are told they cannot leave Casablanca without an exit visa signed by Renault, which he will not get.

Tension increase not because the problem has changed (the need for exit visas) but because the solutions are disappearing. First the transit visas from Ugarte are out of reach, now any kind of legal exit visa signed by Renault is out of reach.

Laszlo turns to the black market and visits Signor Ferrari who offers one visa, just for Ilse. She refuses.

"I'll be honest M'sier, it will take a miracle to get you out of Casablanca, and the Germans have outlawed miracles" Ferrari tell Laszlo.

The tension rises again because the third option for exit visas (the black market) is now also out of reach.

But then, a ray of hope:

Ferrari directs Laszlo to Rick, whom he believes to have the papers that Ugarte stole.

Laszlo comes to Rick, and asks him about the transit papers. Rick tells Laszlo the papers aren't available at any price, and if he wonders why "ask your wife". (Ilse and Laszlo are secretly married, something Ilse told Rick earlier in the day.)

Just as Laszlo and Rick are talking about the exit papers, they hear the Germans singing their national anthem raucously in the bar.

Laszlo immediately goes to the band and says "Play Le Marseillaise" The band looks to Rick, who nods, and the band strikes up the French national anthem.

The Germans are drowned out, the entire cafe is on its feet, and the audience understands that Laszlo has just sealed his fate.


Strasser orders the cafe closed at once (the now-famous "your winnings, sir" scene)


Later that evening, Ilse goes back to the cafe. She tells Rick that if he doesn't help them, Laszlo will die in Casablanca.

"What of it," Rick responds.

Ilse pulls a gun and Rick still refuses to hand over the papers. "Go ahead and shoot me, you'll be doing me a favor."

While this scene is tense, the audience isn't really worried that Ilse will shoot Rick, if only cause we know the "rules" of movies: if the hero dies it's at the end of the movie, not the end of Act 2.



But we also can't see how Laszlo and Ilse will get exit visas. We're glued to our seats to find out what happens next.



End of Act 2

Later that night, Laszlo and Karl (the waiter) return to the cafe after an underground meeting is raided by the police.

When Rick sends Karl to escort Ilse home, he and Laszlo stay at the bar. Laszlo asks Rick to give the transit papers to Ilse if he will not sell them to him. Not only give the transit visa to Ilse, but asks that Rick escort her to America.

(this escorting of ladies is nicely laid in twice earlier in the movie: when Yvonne has too much to drink; and when Ilse is in Rick's upstairs room at the cafe.)

Just then the police break in and arrest Laszlo.

Laszlo is now in the hands of the Germans, and Strasser has made it clear that he has no problem killing Laszlo.

The next morning, Rick tells Renault that he will be using the transit papers for himself, and Ilse.

The audience wonders if Rick will do this very selfish thing: leave Laszlo to die in Casablanca. Our sympathies are with Laszlo, we want him to carry on fighting the Nazis VERY much.


Rick has long maintained he "sticks his neck out for no man" but we've seen him act contrary to that twice now: once when he rigs the roulette table to pay out on #22 so the Bulgarian couple wins the cost of their exit visas and second, most tellingly, when he agrees to have the band play Les Marseilles.

Rick says what he's going to do, but our eyes are still glued to the screen to see if he does. We think he will because what other option is there.

The tension is both the lack of options, and the one option that does seem available is one we don't particularly like.

Rick arranges with Renault to set Laszlo up for a bigger crime, one that will certainly get him sent to a concentration camp. Laszlo comes to the cafe with Ilse believing he is bringing Ilse to Rick and they will get on the plane.

Renault arrives to arrest Laszlo.

Much to everyone's surprise, including the audience, this time it is Rick who has the gun.

When all four of them arrive at the airport, Ilse still expects it is Rick who will go with her.

But of course, Rick gives the papers to Laszlo and tells Ilse to go with him.

The climactic moment is catharsis of the best kind. Ilse and Laszlo get on the plane and Major Strasser gets shot.

The End

The problem for the characters in Casablanca is pretty simple: the need for exit visas. Tension builds when the solutions to the problem becoming increasingly difficult, if not impossible to find.

A lot of other things contribute to making this a great movie (my favorite of all time in fact); tension doesn't exist apart from the other story elements. But tension is the fuel for the engine. Without it, the story doesn't move at all.

Any questions? Feel free to disagree in the comment column of course. A variety of opinions is welcome.

2020 query and request stats

Queries: lots (and quite tasty!)

probably close to 2000 but that's down by about 50% from previous years 

Requested fulls 2020: 16 

Of those 16, 2 were revise and resend requests from previous years

Of those 16, 15 were requested after receiving a query in the slush (93%!)

Of those 16, 1 was from a referral. 

 

Inventory carried over from 2019: 26
Requested, not received: 1
Still pending: 1 (received on 12/25/20) 

Total ms read in 2010: 40
Still pending: 1 (received on 12/25/20) 

I requested far fewer manuscripts this year

34% of the number I requested in 2019 (46)
18% of the number I requested in 2018 (86)
13% of the number I requested in 2017 (118)

Some of that was on purpose: I was very tired of always being behind on my reading; of asking writers to be patient past 90 days as a norm and too often for more than 180 days. I HATED that, and the only way to get on top of the problem was to quit feeding the queue. I got VERY particular about what asked for.

Some of it was the pandemic: Almost nothing looked appealing for almost five months. I know it was my eye, not the mss. It took a long time to regain my appetite. I spent much of that five months reading old favorites: Dick Francis, Robert Crais, Lee Child.

The most consistent flaw in requested mss was pacing and tension. Without tension there's nothing to hold my interest. If I'm not actively wondering what happens next by page 50, it's an almost certain pass.

(more on tension in a blog post tomorrow)

The good news though for those of you who did get passes from me: 

Two of the books I passed on now  have publishing contracts, and one writer signed with another agent but has not yet sold. So three of the 16 books (or about 18%) had favorable results, just not with me. Remember this when you get a pass. Keep querying. What's not right for one agent can be just what someone else is looking for, and you've just seen the stats that support that.

Final tally: 

New clients signed in 2020: 2

1 from 2020 query; 1 from 2019 query. 

Any questions?

Happy Holidays!

 

Santa Shark is heading your way!

I hope you've been good!

Nine things that drive me crazy

I've been burrowing into my incoming queries, hoping to get most of them answered before the holiday shutdown.

Several recurring problems:

1. Not sending pages. 

I've heard tell there are agents that don't want pages.
I'm not one of them.
Show me you can write. Most of you can't write queries for shit. Give yourself a fighting chance with something you CAN write: pages from your novel.


2. Not telling me the start of the story/the precipitating event/anything about the plot
At some point you need a plot on the page.
The query is a good place to start.


3. Effusive compliments/ANY compliments really.
I don't want someone who talks like I walk on water.
I don't.
I do want someone who wants to be on my team, not revere me.
It's brutally uncomfortable to read balderdash like "you're one of the greats." My new favorite though is "your agency has a world-wide reputation" which is hilarious cause JetReid Literary is about five minutes old.

4. Repeatedly sending what you think is a query (and isn't) in the misguided assumption that I haven't already read it and discarded it because you didn't fucking tell me about the book.

5. Telling me you're a previously published author as though that's a big plus.
Unless you've sold one million copies, it isn't.
Compounding this is when you don't include any info about the new book, leading me to think that you expect me to want you, not your book. #NopeNopeNope


6. Responding to a pass with "well, what about this" as though I am browsing in the Casablanca souk. Even if I just responded to your first one, queries go in the incoming query pile. I don't read it right that minute. And if you're just responding quickly, by the time I read it, I won't have any context.


7. Telling me you're referred by a "a friend". Querying isn't espionage. Also, my friends know better. 

8. Leading off with the college you went to. If you want to come off as an asshat right away, that's a good strategy. 

 

9. Making up a category for your book. 

This generally means you haven't done enough (or any) research on where your book would belong in a bookstore.  When you have a category I've never encountered, I don't assume you made it up, but I do dig around. If I can't find it, you're off to a bad start.  Contemporary fiction works. A novel also works. I don't care if you have the wrong category (other agents DO) because I only really care about the story. 

SGC Flash fiction results, this time for real

 Remember when I said I'd post the results "later today"?

Well, clearly that turned out to be Bald Faced Lie.

(what's a bald face?)

It's two weeks now and you all have been quite patient with my dawdling.

It's kind of felt like being on vacation not doing these daily posts, but I do miss it, and I'm going to get back to posting. Not daily, but at least not silent!

So, the results

I went back and read the ones that caught my eye again.

Sometimes a day or two can make me change my mind.

But not this time.

The winner is Jennifer Rand.

The prize is

Thanks to all of you who wrote and posted entries.

You are a talented bunch, and I have the post that proves it!

Snot Green Couch Flash Fiction Contest Results

Curt David

    2020 was almost over. The election? Still not decided.

    "Let's pick randomly," Ms. Bell suggested.

    "Liberty, no. We need to all agree; need to find someone to join our team," Uncle Sam retorted.

    "Nothing positive happened this year," Mr. Baldy squawked.

    "His lackadaisical comment aside, does anyone have someone to nominate?" Ms. Flag asked.

    "The winner will join the ranks of us quintessential symbols of the United States of America!" Statue of Liberty exclaimed. "Who exhibited such bravery, heroism, compassion, and strength this past year?"

    National Anthem thought a moment, then belted out, "What about Front Line Workers?"

    Unanimous decision.

 

Love this concept a lot!

 

Craig F

    The morning broke queasy, punctuated with pieces of a dream in a snot green medium.

    Pulling the slack from some remaining brain cells, the green crap became a sofa

    The glass of tea on the floor wasn’t tea. Suppressing a gag, I saw flecks of something like rust on my hands.

    Struggling to the bath my eyes popped open, then shut, then wouldn’t pass a squint. In the tub was the dream, in pieces; that wasn’t rust on my hands.

 

The morning broke queasy is a perfect phrase.

 

Marie McKay

    She keeps the screams in the cushions, the strain in the sofa seams, the tears in the tea cups, the cracks in the broken plates, the pain in the squint of the photo frame, the shame in dark corners; sadness in cupboards, dismay in closed doors, sadness in blankets, wounds in loose clothing; her courage in the chink of the curtain, her hope in the green of the trees. Her plans in the blue of beyond, her mettle in a suitcase.

 

and, Mari McKay saunters in and drops perfection on the desktop.
This is just plain amazing.

It's not quite a story but who the hell cares.

Jennifer Rand

    All she has are suspicions.

    Her husband and her best friend, Paige.

    How long?

    Confronting them would be messy. Paige's son, Jimmy, is her own son's best friend.

    With tea in hand and a desire to deny, she joins the teenagers in the rec room. The boys lie sprawled on the sofa watching the game.

    "Who you rooting for?" she asks.

 

    "Panthers."

 

    "Which team is that?"

 

    "Green jerseys," Jimmy says.

 

    "They're blue, dumbass!" her son chides.

 

    The words thunder in her brain.

 

    She steps back slack-jawed and squints to hide her tears.

 

    "Hey, mom! Jimmy's colorblind just like dad."

 

oh my godiva.

 

    Mallory Love

 

    “It’s further than it looks, old sport, but it’s always there."

 

    I followed his gaze out to the slack water, steamed with fog. Squinting, I could see the green light in the distance.

 

    So familiar, yet different.

 

    This time I didn’t tell him I was a time traveler or that I had lived many variations of this moment. I didn’t say that sometimes the light was red or blue. I didn’t warn him of the fate that awaited him, because he was always succumbing to it. Overdosing, hanging, drowning.

 

    The only thing that ever remained the same was the dream.

 

It took me three reads to get this.

How about you?

 

Michael Seese

    "I can make you a star, sweetie. But first..."

 

    "Whatever it takes," she teased, lying back on the sofa, flattening it

    "Cut!" I yelled.

 

    "I simply can't work like this," Rex whined, throwing up his tiny arms.

    I agree not everything had gone as planned. Indeed, this quintessential labor of love of mine appeared headed for divorce. On paper, it looked perfect; in reality, it's lacking a plot, competent actors, and passion.

 

    "Perhaps I could lose weight," Vela offered.

 

    Not before the asteroid hits, I thought. Some movies simply should not be made. Apparently "Jurassic Tart" is one of them.

 

After I stop laughing, I will be able to tell you how much I love Michael Seese's pun-ch lines.

 

Amanda

 

    Me: So, 2020, coronavirus has kinda stolen your thunder like the green grinch stole Christmas. Wanna give me a gift early and share what the tealeaves say for 2021?

 

    2020: What’s the fun in that?

 

    Me: Gotcha. But a lot of people would appreciate it.

 

    2020: Sorry, no.

 

    Me: Holding your cards close, huh?

 

    2020: I’ve done a good job so far, haven’t I?

 

    Me: Yeah, but you haven’t trumped us, yet. How about a squint at next month?

 

    2020: Patience...

 

    Me: ...and maybe 2021 will cut us some slack.

 

    2020: Hindsight is 20/20!

 

oh god, this is right up there in the Punchine Pantheon!

 

Colin Smith

    I don’t normally do art, but Rob insisted. Said my brain was slack and I needed a fresh perspective on life. That’s what friends are for.

    So they say.

    So, fact is, I went. Not that I agree. Not for any reason other than to placate Rob.

 

    It was all weird, but the weirdest was the crowd around the last painting. Their scowling faces seemed so angry.

    The painting was a mess. Lines and colors that had no cohesion.

    Just like me, I thought.

    And then I saw the title:

    “Sea with Squint Tea Ice”

 

    And it changed my life.

What is it about this week that you're all playing with these punch lines so deftly?

It took me two reads to get this, but I finally did.

 

Brigid

    Welcome to the Greenfield Library Online Catalog: Place Holds.

 

    03/13/2020 Requests:

    Quintessential Kale Cookbook 978-1510738164

    12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos 978-0141988511

 

    04/02/2020 Requests:

    Slack: Getting Past Burnout 978-0767907699

    Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea 978-1416954125

 

    05/11/2020 Requests:

    What Color Is Your Parachute? A Practical Manual for Job-Hunters 978-0399581892

 

    05/31/2020 Requests:

    Didn't See That Coming 978-0063010529

    Personal Bankruptcy Laws for Dummies 978-0471773801

    Unf*ck Yourself 978-1473671560

 

    09/18/2020 Request:

    So Far from God 978-0393326932

 

    11/03/2020 Requests:

    A Promised Land 978-1524763169

    Error: Not yet available.

 

    11/30/2020 Requests:

    How to Build a Time Machine 978-1250024220

    No Time Like the Future 978-1250265616

 

We need a non-fiction category in these contests!

 

KDJames

 

    If she tilts her head and squints, she sees it clearly:

 

    The odd green that never matched anything

    (they were young, hopeful, it was on sale)

    Firm cushions supporting breastfeeding babies

    Increasingly stained, kids climbing, jumping, napping

    Snuggling close with books

    Remnants of spit-up, grubby fingers, embedded pet fur

    Cushions sagging, muffling tear-filled nights

    Waiting up, corners worn thin as slackened faith

    Relegated to the playroom, still no match

    Seldom used now, kids grown, moved out

    All things have their time

    Some linger

    Inexplicably

 

    Careful, she tells the junk removers, that sofa is far heavier than it looks.

 

The only thing missing here is the residue from the week I spent on the SGS with the second worse case of bronchitis I've ever had.  Couldn't sleep lying down at all, so on the couch. I'd put on DVDs of The Wire, a show I know so well I can nap through an episode and not be lost in the slightest.

 

I think I watched all five seasons at least three times that week.

 

By the time I could stagger down to the trash bins, I had three 13-gallon bags filled with used Kleenex

 

 

C. Dan Castro

 

    The massive, blood red demon squashed my sofa. Despite log-like fingers, he picked up his teacup and sipped.

 

    He stopped, phosphorescent green eyes squinting at the ceramic.

 

    I quavered. "N-needs sugar?"

 

    "Tea's excellent. Almost...heavenly." He seized the teapot. Guzzled it. Belched. "Your soul's due. Today."

 

    "But...ten years..."

 

    "Millennials. Trade for a fortune, then slack off ten years."

 

    "I didn't. I researched. Contract expires if the demon expires."

 

    "Oh?"

 

    "And if you drank holy water..."

 

    The demon looked at the teapot.

 

    And exploded.

 

    Ugh. Sulfurous demon guts everywhere. But I can pay someone to clean.

 

    I've got a fortune.

 

I'm so glad I have a vial of holy water from Lourdes.

Who knows when a demon may show up!

 

Casual-T

    "I quite agree," nodded Watson. "So far, the experience has been less than convincing. I'd even say it's lacking its quintessental aspects." He passed the steaming beverage under his nose, once more.

 

    "Indubitably, my dear Watson," the master detective replied, putting down his own cup. "When it comes to the great British tradition of infusing hot water with subtle flavor, it is every gentleman's honor-bound duty to not short-change himself."

 

    "Quite so," the doctor confirmed eagerly, walking toward the door of the scarlet study. "I shall teach the new cook how to prepare a decent cup of coffee, at once."

 

Nice twist!

 

french sojourn

 

    He placed the old green book back on the table beside the sofa. “Le Masque de la mort rouge,” talk about one a day plus irony. He thought about all those slack jawed people. He squinted at the clock on the wall… “Fuck it, might as well check the numbers,” he switched on the tv.

 

    “… so, you’re saying that since mammoths roamed the earth, mankind’s instincts have only ever been fight or flight?”

 

    “Exactly… now with this pandemic there is no fight or flight… we have to do something else… let each family isolate.”

 

    “Shouldn’t be that hard.” (coughs)

 

One a day plus irony is a great phrase.

(will younger folk get the allusion?)

 

 

AJ Blythe

 

    Sofia adjusted her apron, took the tray Chef thrust at her and on silent tread entered the dining hall. After a careful curtsy, she served the old tyrant his buttermilk radish soup.

 

    “Green pepper oil, sir?” She held out a small bottle.

 

    At his nod she trickled a teaspoon over the hot soup. Stoppered the bottle. Took a step back.

 

    He slurped from his spoon. Paused for a rattling breath. Slack-jawed he squinted at her, his face turning a sludgy toad green.

 

    “So-fa.” Drool slid down his chin.

 

    Sofia slid the indenture-ending bottle of green peanut oil into her pocket.

 

ohhh, clever clever!

 

 

Amy Johnson

 

    If only she could have known.

 

 

    Starry eyes finally collide.

 

    After three stints, quints.

 

    Dolly tea parties, little jeans with green knees.

 

    Seven snuggled on the sofa for nursery rhymes, story times, movie nights.

 

    Their silver anniversary, five contributing to society, her second master’s degree.

 

    Wrinkled hands writing letters: lacking stop sign, lights to prevent crime.

 

    Volunteering on that hotline.

 

 

    If only she could have known.

 

 

Very very subtle.

This is a classic illustration of leaving your reader wanting more and resisting the urge to fill in

all the details. A very delicate balance. 

 

 

 

*****

I have a winner in mind but I'd like to hear what you think.

Did I miss anyone?

Did I overlook something amazing?

 

Let me know in the comments column.

 

Final results later today! 

"Later today" didnt account for the burp in the space time contiuum.

You felt it, right?

Happy Sunday!

When you're* uncertain of the last time you rinsed your hide, it's REALLY time to take a shower every day.

 

 More than six months in to the pandemic, time to start thinking of this as the New Normal.

Is there anything you now have to remind yourself to do?

*and by you,  I mean me.

Snot Green Sofa Flash Fiction contest!

 Not posting daily has been almost like a vacation...but I do miss your daily comments!

I've gotten a LOT of reading done these past few weeks, and I'm planning a post with a  roundup of requests, queries etc. later in December.

In the meantime, let's have a flash fiction contest to celebrate the endurance of the snot green sofa (where I do my reading.) 

 

Prize is of course a book but this time, not just ONE book:

Louise Miller: The City Baker's Guide to Country Living (it's a novel not a how-to book!)

Natalie Jenner: The Jane Austen Society (you don't need to love Jane to love this book!)

 

 

The usual rules apply:

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Use these words in the story:

green 

sofa

slack

squint

tea 

 

(NO Steve Forti extra prompt word this week. I have retired from the field of battle. Forti Thwarts the Shark!)

 

3. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards.

 

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

 

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again. It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

 

 6. International entries are allowed, but prizes may vary for international addresses.

 

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

 

8. Under no circumstances should you tweet anything about your particular entry to me. Example: "Hope you like my entry about Felix Buttonweezer!" This is grounds for disqualification.

 

9.  There are no circumstances in which it is ok to ask for feedback from ME on your contest entry. NONE. 

 

10.  It's ok to tweet about the contest generally.

Example: "I just entered the flash fiction contest on Janet's blog and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt"

 

 

11. Please do not post anything but contest entries. (Not for example "I love Felix Buttonweezer's entry!"). Save that for the contest results post.

 

 

12. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

 

 

13. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.

 

 

Contest opens: Saturday, 11/28/20, at 9am EST

Contest closes: Sunday, 11/29/20, at 9am EST

If you're wondering how what time it is in NYC right now, here's the clock 

 

If you'd like to see the entries that have won previous contests, there's an .xls spread sheet here http://www.colindsmith.com/TreasureChest/

(Thanks to Colin Smith for organizing and maintaining this!)

 

Questions? Tweet to me @Janet_Reid

Ready? SET?

Not yet!

ENTER! 

Sorry, too late. Contest closed.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Step away from the pie!

eh?

 Robyn Harding, who is Canadian, mentioned in a webinar that she was asked by her publisher to set her novels in the US for better marketability. The same case apparently with Shari Lapena, another Canadian. There didn't seem to be any issue with Jane Harper's novels set in Australia and all those novels set in various locales in Europe or Outer Space. Do you know what is going on here? Do I need to relocate my Vancouver Island novel to San Juan WA?

NO.

You'll notice that Ms Harding mentioned her PUBLISHER asked her. So, her books found an agent with the original setting.

Each publisher has different blind spots.

And yes, I have seen this before, but not so often that you should pro-actively revise your setting.

Given the number of people who were eyeing Canadia if the election had gone the other way, your appeal may be waxing.

Canadia just suffers from proximity. You don't seem exotic (like Australia or Betelgeuse) cause you're yanno...right there. Practically in Michigan, not to mention a quick hop from Bellingham. 

And then there's the problem with your ambassadors:

Guilty pleas

 A lot of authors are facing an even steeper uphill battle with book promotion these days. 

The field was noisy last year, this year it's deafening.

Trying to separate yourself from the pack is HARD.

But there are some things to avoid doing, and the very first one is leading with pathos: Hey, I need my book to sell well so buy a copy, please.

Well, I need Idris Elba to show up with sushi so get on that will you?

In other words, what you need is irrelevant to me unless you are me (or my family, client or friend).

And since most of you will be promoting your book to people who are not in your inner circle, think first about why someone would buy your book if they don't know you.

It's a good story is probably a good start. Except don't tell me the story, tell me the hook.

Snippets from good reviews, also good.

And right now, "it takes you away from reality for an hour" is very good.

Linking to something people know about already: If you loved Season Four of The Crown, here's a novel about how MI-5 killed Princess Diana.  That would catch my eye instantly and I'd probably buy the book.

 Linking to the theme of the book: If you want all the fun of cooking, but no clean up, here's a culinary mystery with murder as a side dish.

Linking to the characters: Need a dashing gallant man in your life, here's Felix Buttonweezer charming Our Heroine in The Great British Baking Show Off Comes to Town.

(there's a food theme here, isn't there?)

Effective book promo is about the reader, not the writer unless you're Nick Petrie and "I have a new book" is all I need to know.

The thing about trying to guilt someone into buying your book is that it's VERY short term. You can pluck my pity strings once, but that's all you'll get.

Promotion should be seen as a long game. Building readers into fans one book at a time. 

Questions?

Feeling housebound? Yea, me .. nope! Not today!

 Yesterday I attended a Zoom presentation by Jonathan Slaght for his book Owls of the Eastern Ice.

Honestly it was as refreshing as a two mile brisk walk!

 The narration on this book trailer is from the book.

I ordered it as soon as I saw the publisher was FSG.

So, welcome back!

 

I took a week off from social media of all sorts and it was very instructive.

 

I got a lot of reading done, much more than I expected.

So I took a close look at where that time to read came from.

 

Sadly, it's not Twitter.

It's this blog.

 

It takes about an hour a day, and that's for quick posts.

And my best posts take a lot longer.

 

Between writing, revising, spell checking (which now has to be done by cutting and pasting

the post into a word doc!) and trying to get the frigging fonts and spacing right, it's more like ten hours a week.

 

And that's a book.

 

BUT I love this community, and I do like being able to answer questions. So I'm not pulling the plug.

 

But what I am going to do is NOT post every day. I'm not going to post on a set schedule. If I have something cogent to say, I'll post. If not, I'll be over here in my corner reading.

 

I'm probably going to change platforms in the coming weeks. This new Blogger style is maddening. I have a feeling they did this on purpose. A free platform doesn't generate income; I bet they want us all gone.

 

The great news from last week is that The Power of Adrienne Rich by Hilary Holladay got a rave review in the New York Times.  This is a book that was five years in the writing. A long, wonderful journey and now, it's glorious to see this amazing book get the kudos it so richly deserves.

 

 

 

 

Something beautiful for you today

 

Respite

 I knew I was going to take a break this coming week even before the election was called on Saturday. My nerves are just jangled. My concentration is down to a few minutes sometimes, not even a half-hour.

I'm going dark here, and staying off Twitter for the week.

Time to read, and just be quiet. I can't get to Montana or Oregon to sit in solitude, but I can turn everything off here in Brooklyn, and pretend.

Usually I've posted pet pictures on a hiatus, and checked the comment column, but this time I'm really going to take a break.

I'll be back at the end of the week.

Big Sky country; very very quiet!

Hello Saturday!

 I had to get a notary stamp on some papers this week.

I trekked over to the abogado's office on the next block (I live in an old Dominican neighborhood) only to find a "not here till the pandemic is over" note on the door.

Well rats.

Back home I go.

Turns out you can get notary services online.

Okedoky, this sounds easy.

Long story short it took three hours and cost 4x as much.

But at least I got it done.

But when I tell people it takes three times longer to get anything done, I'm underestimating.

What is taking you longer these days?

"what's taking so damn long?"

I have a tenuous grip on my sanity these days

About the only thing I can get done are small things that don't require much thinking.

Here's one:

Rodney Smith is a guy who mows lawns for free for seniors, vets, disabled folks.
And gets kids involved in doing the same.
He's not a US Citizen.
He's applying for a visa to be a resident here.
I think that's a good idea.


If you do too, drop a quick letter of suppoert in the mail.

If you're not following him on Twitter, you're missing out.

@IamRodneySmith

His tweets are 100% feel good.
And that's not nothin' these days.

This blog post has no content

 yesterday wasn't good for thinking let alone writing.

I cleaned.

Sort of.

I refreshed the NYT and the WaPo websites fiendishly,

and then I pottered around getting the book prizes ready to mail,

and then I did the puzzle, 

then I ordered new bakeware for my new oven,

then I realized the Crisco expired in 2018, so no baking,

and then I didn't do much but stare into space.

All of which means I didn't write a damn thing for today.

Other than this.

Flash fiction contest results---a little late, just like the election returns

 

Amber!

 I'm writing this on Election Night at 10:47pm.

I'm beside myself.

The only thing to do was go read the flash fiction contest entries again.

And no doubt about it: Jennifer Rand is this week's winner

Jennifer Rand

The hole was deep.
Sandstone rocks piled high, ready to be cast by those without sin.
An old tradition resurrected. He was elated. He'd missed the old days.
"Why now?" he inquired of his remaining, honorable daughter.
"The teachings were a crock, my father. The community is woke now."
"What does that mean?" he asked as he selected a handful of rocks. "Are you mocking me?"
She didn't answer.
"Where are your stones, my daughter?"
The growing crowd flocked around them.
She took the stones from his hand and blocked his exit. "I'll just use yours. You won't need them."

 

Jennifer, email me with your preferred mailing address, and IF I am able to pry myself off the couch on Wednesday, I'll get your prize in the mail.

 

How are all y'all holding up?

So, what are YOU doing today?

Recently I needed to send some dough to a pal of mine.

 

The bank wanted to charge me $25 for one ACH transfer so I thought

"I will be Frugal! I will be Cost Conscious! I'll use this other electronic payment thing they have."

 

I text my pal: get yourself set up on this other electronic payment thing  so I can remit wads of filthy lucre to you.

 

Pal: Done!

 

Me: Sent!

 

Bank: oh ho not so fast my precious.

 

Bank: we're locking your account because it's clear Someone is Fucking About With Your Money!

 

Bank: Call this number for customer service

 

Me: Dials.

 

Bank automated person: What? You thought I meant call NOW? Silly girl. We're closed. Try again. 

 

(and there was evening and there was morning on the first day)

 

Next day

 

Me: Ring

 

BAP: Enter your account number!

 

Me: tap tap tap

 

BAP: please enjoy this lovely soothing klezmer ska music while you're on hold

 

(and there was evening and there was morning on the second day)

 

Bank Real Person: Hello! How can I help you?

 

Me (singing along with klezmer ska): oh, ok hello. You have locked my account, can you help me. 

BRP: delighted to. What's your name?  And your account number?

 

Me: (struggles to remember name) Digs out check book. Recites number.

 

BRP: Ok, I'm going to transfer you to an automated voice system that will ask you for three pieces of information to verify your identity.

Me: uh, what?

 

BRP: Your phone will ring.

 

Me: this phone I'm on now?

 

BRP: yes.

 

Me: I don't know how to answer a call while I'm on hold.

 

(long pause for BRP to recalibrate in order to deal with True Idiot.)

 

True Idiot aka me:  But I can try (translation: I'll do anything to get off this call)

 

BRP: Great please hold

 

(and there was evening and there was morning on the third day)

 

BRP:  Sorry about that, we had some mechanical difficulties. I'm going to try again now.

 

Me: (weakly) sure, anything.

 

BAP:  Hello! This is your Automated Customer Service Rep! Enter your debit card number!

 

Me: tap tap tap

 

BAP: Enter the expiration number on your card!

 

Me: tap tap tap

 

BAP: Enter your security code! 

 

Me: tap tap....jesus, WHAT?? ok, TAP.

 

Bank Real Person: Great! We've now verified you for the next stage.

 

Me: Next stage? 

 

BRP:  What state issued your social security card?

 

Me: (panicked) Oregon?

 

BRP: how much did you weigh when you got married the first time?

 

Me: what? 

 

BRP: What's the address of the third place you lived after college?

 

Me: WHAT?

 

BRP: You know if you use this electronic transfer payment system, we can't get the money back even if you send it to the wrong place.

 

Me: WHAT?????

 

BRP: We've unlocked your account. Have a nice day. (Translation: pay $25 for the ACH or we'll just lose the money and pretend we don't know you.)

 

Back to wheelbarrows of cash for me.

Source: @womensart