Quote of the Week: Deanna Durbin

“There are two ways to learn anything. An interesting way and a boring way. I like the interesting way.”

Depression-era star, Deanna Durbin, died a few days ago, according to her son, Peter H. David. The New York Times said he “thanked her admirers for respecting her privacy. No other details were given.” She was 91.

The Times gave Durbin a lovely obituary, remembering the youthful ingenue fondly. “Ms. Durbin had remained determinedly out of public view since 1949, when she retired to a village in France with her third husband.”

From 1936 to 1942, Ms. Durbin was everyone’s intrepid kid sister or spunky daughter, a wholesome, radiant, can-do girl who in a series of wildly popular films was always fixing the problems of unhappy adults. 

And as an instant Hollywood star with her very first movie, “Three Smart Girls,” she almost single-handedly fixed the problems of her fretting bosses at Universal, bringing them box-office gold.
In 1946, Ms. Durbin’s salary of $323,477 from Universal made her the second-highest-paid woman in America, just $5,000 behind Bette Davis.

Her own problems began when she outgrew the role that had brought her fame. Critics responded negatively to her attempts to be an adult on screen, as a prostitute in love with a killer in Robert Siodmak’s bleak film noir “Christmas Holiday” (1944) and as a debutante mixed up in a murder plot in “Lady on a Train” (1945.)

The Hollywood portion of Durbin’s life ended when she wed David in 1950 when, at age 28 and having starred in 21 feature films, she retired with her growing family to a small farmhouse in France.

Social Media Explained... by Cats?

I can’t believe I’m sharing what is essentially a giant cat joke on my personal blog, but I just can’t help myself! How fun is this? Plus it’s the best explanation of social media and how they all fit together that I’ve ever seen. And some of the cats are super cute. Click on the image to see it up close and personal and, if you’ve a mind to, come see me -- and follow, like or friend me -- on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram or LinkedIn.

The Path to Becoming A Writer

Recently someone e-mailed to ask about the path I took: the career path followed to get to the place where I am. This person was exploring possibilities for career change. He had a job that did not fulfill him, but that enriched him in physical ways: good money, benefits, retirement possibilities after what currently seemed like an endless investment of years.

So what path had I taken? I sat and looked at the words for full minutes -- five. Maybe ten -- before I could formulate anything that even resembled an answer.

And then I realized: there had been no path. “Path” suggests something sane and sensible. My life hasn’t been like that. It is precarious. It has always been. You do it because you have stories to tell that will make you bleed if they go untold. They reverberate so starkly inside you that you need to do whatever you have to to get them out. That’s not a way of being that describes anything as sane as a “path.” More like a force that pushes and/or guides you.

So paths: the best most sensible path for someone to take if they already have a job that they perhaps do not love but that pays is simply to get up earlier. Don’t do less, do more. Writing doesn’t need to be one or the other. But it can be the salve that makes the rest of it work.

I didn’t explain that well. I’ll try again.

I have heard from many, many people that they wrote their first book while doing a job that did not please them. They carved an extra hour from their day and used it to write their first book. After their writing time, they would go to their job where they'd be able to use some of their workday ruminating on what they'd written and what they would write next, moving the book forward in that way.

That would be a sensible path for someone considering change. But is it the correct one? I don’t think there is a correct path for someone wanting to be a writer. And no clearcut one. The journey is always deeply personal and dictated by your own needs and desires and -- yes -- gifts and talents.

So that ragged path looks something like this:

• In the first place, one should be writing because one has to.
• One continues to work if there are bills to pay. 
• And if one wakes up one morning and the money from the writing is equal to or greater than the bills, one quits the job.

That is the sensible course. But is it the right course? Maybe one day you’ll let me know.

Coming to a Bookstore Near You…

I’m glad to finally be able to talk about Death Was in the Blood now that everything -- including the cover -- is official and ready to be talked about. And it’s such a gorgeous cover, too! David Middleton did a great job… again. Thanks, David.

Death Was in the Blood is the third Kitty Pangborn novel. It’s again set in Los Angeles in 1931, this time against the backdrop of preparation for the 1932 Olympic Games that took place in that city. Here’s the official bumph:

In the third Kitty Pangborn novel Kitty finds herself challenged by what-might-have-beens. When Dex is charged with finding out who’s threatening a wealthy industrialist’s daughter, Kitty discovers herself back in the social class she was raised to, only now she’s expected to come in the service entrance. It doesn’t help that the young woman they’ve been hired to look out for doesn’t want Dex and Kitty’s protection: she’s headstrong. willful and in many ways not unlike Kitty herself.

I’ll be talking more about Death Was in the Blood as we move towards the publication date of June 2013. But if you’re so inclined, go ahead and pre-order the book now. These days, that kind of support makes a lot of difference… especially if you’d like to make sure you see more Kitty Pangborn novels in future!

You can pre-order on Amazon or insist that your favorite bookseller bring in scads of them.

Seven Tips for Writing Great Fiction

Though he wasn’t always the best at living, one thing Papa Hemingway knew how to do was write. And though he’s known for his taut, clean prose, he wrote a lot of words to get himself there. Life Magazine sent Hemingway to Spain to do a series of articles on bullfighting. They wanted 10,000 words. Hemingway came back with about 130,000 of them. They were published in book form as Death in the Afternoon. Hemingway knew how to write. A lot.

So when Open Culture trolled through some of the vast stores of Heminwaybelia to cobble together seven fiction-writing tips from the master, I was easy to pay attention:

Hemingway never wrote a treatise on the art of writing fiction.  He did, however, leave behind a great many passages in letters, articles and books with opinions and advice on writing. Some of the best of those were assembled in 1984 by Larry W. Phillips into a book, Ernest Hemingway on Writing. We’ve selected seven of our favorite quotations from the book and placed them, along with our own commentary, on this page. We hope you will all -- writers and readers alike -- find them fascinating. 

Open Culture has included both quotes and comments, so you should definitely plan a visit in order to see where it all comes from. Meanwhile, here are the seven tips from Hemingway that they’ve put together:

1: To get started, write one true sentence.

2: Always stop for the day while you still know what will happen next.

3: Never think about the story when you’re not working.

4: When it’s time to work again, always start by reading what you’ve written so far.

5: Don’t describe an emotion -- make it.

6: Use a pencil.

7: Be brief.

Truthfully, 3, 4 and 6 are opposite of what I believe. And I’m pretty certain Hemingway didn’t believe 7 himself (I know he didn’t follow it!) but it just goes to show: one of the big secrets is that there are few secrets. This writing business is a subjective one. The most important “rule” is to get your bum in the chair.

The Open Culture piece is here.

RIP Jett the Australian Kelpie

Jett the Australian Kelpie

November 6, 1999 - February 8, 2013

David and I are so sad to say good-bye to our friend and companion of nearly a dozen years. Jett was rescued from a puppy mill breeding operation when she was around a year old. She spent her formative time locked in a crate and was never properly socialized. When we got her she was afraid of flowers and long grass and even her own shadow. She remained somewhat suspicious of strangers all of her life, though she loved children and puppies, other dogs and her cat, Tiger-Lily. It seems likely, too, that the poor nutrition and bad conditions she experienced in that formative time contributed to the crippling arthritis that led to her passing.

Though she wasn’t keen on grown-up humans, Jett had the warmest heart and the fear she felt never translated into mean, even in the most trying situations. Over the years people often told us how good it was of us to take on a dog with so many challenges, but we really never felt that. She was the sweetest dog either of us had ever met and she thanked us for sharing our lives with her in so many ways, every single day.

It sounds trite to say we miss her, but that really doesn’t even begin to cover it. If good dogs do, in fact, go to heaven, we have no doubt that Jett is there, running as fast as she can, happy to feel the wind whip at her spectacular ears and to be finally free of pain.

Best Books of the Year

I’ve been quiet in this space of late. The holidays were part of the reason, of course. Too much joy and fun and friends and food. (And while you can certainly have too much food, I’m not sure it’s possible to overdose on fun and friends and joy!) Also, however, doing my part of the writing and editing for January Magazine’s Best Books of 2012 feature kept me more than my share of busy for a few weeks. (Especially with all the aforementioned fun, etc.)

In any case, this year’s feature was massive and, in some ways, seemed especially satisfying to produce. I remain so very proud of the fact that January’s Best Books of the year feature remains completely passion-powered. They are the books that our writers and editors liked best throughout the year. Because of that, the books included are all over the map. The efforts of small and independent publishers are showcased right next to the largest imprints in the world. And some of these books were written by names known in every household while lots of them were written by authors I’m sure you’ve never heard of before. What do the books have in common? These are the books that moved the hearts of our writers. I can’t think of a higher recommendation than that.

You can see the feature here.

Reading to the End of the Earth

According to a lot of people, we’re counting down. Whether or not you buy the hype, it seems a good excuse for a read off, as initiated by my good friend J. Kingston Pierce over at The Rap Sheet:

Now, I’m not buying into this whole reading of the Mayan calendar that claims we’re in for apocalyptic and literally earth-shattering events tomorrow. We have already survived more than a few predicted ends of the world over the last 2,000 years. Why believe these latest prognostications of doom, especially when they may we be based on a misunderstanding? As the Los Angeles Times reports, “NASA scientists and Mayan scholars say there is no reason to fear Dec. 21. They say the date simply marks the end of one 5,125-year cycle of the complex Mayan calendar and the beginning of another one.”

There’s nothing wrong, though, with employing this latest end-of-the-planet scenario as entertainment. Several media sources have already provided suggestions of what to read, if we actually have just a few pitiful hours left in which to bury our noses in books. (Cormac McCarthy’s The Road seems to be a popular choice.)

But what Pierce wants to know is this:

If our beloved but puny globe at the edge of the Milky Way does meet with destruction tomorrow, and we’re all swept away in a sea of fire, say, or a cataclysmic cascade of asteroids, what books will you not have finished reading. 

I am not looking for your whole to-be-read list, just the titles and authors of books you’ve already begun.

As Pierce says, we’re not looking for your whole TBR pile. Rather, what books have you started that you are unlikely to finish by the end of the world (if that end happens tomorrow)? I’m looking for your list. Here’s mine:

• The Purchase, by Linda Spalding (McLelland & Stewart)
• Lola, California, by Edie Meidav (FSG)
• NW, by Zadie Smith (Penguin)
• The Teleportation Accident, by Ned Beauman (Bloomsbury)
• Finnegan’s Wake, by James Joyce (Don’t hold your breath on this one. I’ve been at it for a while.)

Now it’s your turn. In the Comments section of this post list the book or books you’re in the midst of consuming, but wouldn’t have time to finish before the end of the day tomorrow, Friday.

I hope you’ll play along.

The Indigo Factor Now in Paperback

I’m pleased to let readers know that The Indigo Factor is now available in paperback. Ordering information is here. I wrote a fair amount about this book when it first came out in e-book form earlier this year. You can see more of that here.

Here’s an excerpt from the book:

Chapter One

 
            Here is what she sees: a family home, not large, not lavish; probably rented. There is a garden but, even in the dim light, it looks uncared for, unloved. Just a yard. It might once have been someone’s pride and joy. It’s not anymore. That is clear.
            It is dark. Full dark and not even the pregnant moon illuminates the surroundings. A soft rain hits the ground as slowly and softly as the feet on a cat. She fears the rain will impede her progress; make things slippery, but it does not. Anyone watching would see a young woman moving with confidence, a long skirt swaying past an athletic form, the small case in her hand held as though it were an extension of her arm. She is comfortable carrying it.
            A carport shelters an elderly Toyota. She slips by the car and tries the side door to the house. Locked. The window next to it leads to a bathroom. It is open a few inches to let in whispers of late summer air. She smiles at this thought. It makes her feel even more stealthy. She likes to think of herself as light of touch and as inevitable as air. She likes to think of herself as a catlike rain.
            Emerging from the bathroom, she finds herself in a darkened hallway. It’s not possible to untangle the smells. Yesterday’s pizza. Tonight’s take-out Chinese. A long-forgotten onion. Stale beer. An unscrubbed toilet; the scum that settles around the edges of a sink; the dirt that clots at the corners of windows; the dust that touches everything and moves as she walks by. So much more. She notes the location of the kitchen. Remembers.
            It takes less than a minute to discover that -- beyond the discarded pizza and the ring around the tub -- things are not what they should be. There is only one where there should have been three. The one sleeps alone, arms extended above his head like some threatening bull. He does not threaten, though. He slumbers. She hears his regular breathing. The light and occasional snore.
            She stands over the sleeping male form, her rage unfurling around her head like a flag. She can feel it there, flag-like – a banner of crimson with the texture of blood – but anyone watching her would not have seen even a trace of it on her visage. She appears calm, the pale blue eyes placid in a moon-shaped face, lengths of dark blonde hair plaited tightly and wound around the back of her head so that it frames her face like a golden halo. As she wallows just for a moment in her silent rage, were the man to wake he would think, for a heartbeat, that he saw an angel. The thought wouldn’t last long, though. There is something in her eyes.
            When the rage passes, she considers her options; considers what is the right thing to do under the circumstances. The thing that is correct. She is utterly still as she stands, but for a slight sway of her hips. It betrays the shifting of her weight, from the ball of one foot to the other. It is an unconscious movement – she would be shocked to know she made it – because she believes herself to be perfectly still.
            She knows that the man whose sleep she guards is not her target. He is not the one she was sent to find. And she does not have instructions to kill. Still, her heart flutters with it. She would like to touch him; wake him. She would like to see his expression as he moves toward the fate that she would prescribe.
            She takes another look around. No one else is present; she’s certain of that. No one will report or even know. She feels the last of the rage subside. Feels, in its place, an excitement rise in her breast. It will be beautiful. She can feel it. And she can feel her eyes swim ever so lightly under a film of emotion; of tears.
             She sets the case down, silently, on the chair that stands next to the bed. She opens it and, from within the well-stocked medics’ case, withdraws a syringe and a vial. She handles both expertly, then moves closer to the man on the bed, syringe in hand, with a confidence that shows this is absolutely natural to her; an extension of breathing, of blinking one’s eyes.
            When the needle bites a vein his eyes flutter open, though he isn’t able to focus. And if he thinks at all, whatever he thinks is wrong.
            So wrong.

That’s True For Me, Too!

"Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” -- Stephen King 

There is never only one truth. By the same way of thinking, what’s true for you will probably be true for other people, at least some other people. I think that’s why, as a culture, we love quotations so much. If you feel it, you might think you feel it alone. You can be sure, however, that someone, somewhere has felt it before and, by the same token, dealt with the same thoughts and feelings.

Quotes can be a reflection of ourselves.

Quotations, connect us. At times in our life when we’re feeling alone, or like the only person who has felt a certain way, quotations can help us understand that even though everyone is special and unique, in some very real ways, we’re not that different from a lot of other people – at least some other people – who have walked these roads before.

Think of it this way: sometimes, while you’re growing up, you can feel as though you’re alone in a forest, crashing through the underbrush, trying to find your way. But the truth is, so many people have walked exactly this part of the forest before. You just have to find the trail: and it’s right over there.

Quotations show us the trail. They show us that, as humans, in many ways, we are a single tribe. And, in some very important ways, the essential things that make us human never really change. There’s beauty in that. And beauty in finding our way.

Quotations are sometimes funny. The can lift our spirit or, conversely, they can make us feel as though all the world is a muddy pit. (That can depend on your mood!) Most importantly, I think, they provide us with a direct connection to some of the famous thinkers that have come before us. People who were known for their brilliant or insightful thinking. Who were those people, really? And how did it end up that they’re really so very much like us?

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Twinkie Takes a Tumble

RIP to the “Creme Puff of the Proletariat.”

The Hostess Twinkie died today due, according to the Washington Post, to “complications from economic reality.” Oddly enough, what was essentially a space age food died also of modernization. We eat real food now. There is no room for a fluffy yellow capsule of a 1930s idea of future food. From the same piece in the WP:

The Twinkie was born in 1930 and is often credited to James A. Dewar, a Illinois baker for what was then the Continental Baking Co. The firm produced a cream-filled strawberry shortcake and, when strawberry season was over, Dewar saw no reason the machines needed to sit idle. He formulated a banana cream cake which, amid World War II rationing, became and remained vanilla cream.

The name? It was inspired by a billboard Dewar saw for Twinkle Toe Shoes. “I shortened it to make it a little zippier for the kids,” Dewar said in a 1980 interview.

But the evolution was not yet complete:

The golden confection developed into a finger-shaped sugar sponge that was injected with a gooey filling capable of turning small children into google-eyed rocket boosters.
Hostess reportedly sells about $2.5 billion annually of baked goods; seriously, not extruded but baked — “just like your mother used to,” as the company once wrote to a skeptical customer.

But even though “mother used to” the company is now owned by a couple of hedge funds who are likely unconcerned at the implications of this death: including the fact that, unless another buyer shows up and revives the brand, 18,500 people will be out of work at Hostess HQ. From a press release the company issued earlier today:

Hostess Brands Inc. today announced that it is winding down operations and has filed a motion with the U.S. Bankruptcy Court seeking permission to close its business and sell its assets, including its iconic brands and facilities. 

And, of course, this doesn’t just hit the future of Twinkies. All Hostess brands are being shutdown:

In addition to dozens of baking and distribution facilities around the country, Hostess Brands will sell its popular brands, including Hostess®, Drakes® and Dolly Madison®, which make iconic cake products such as Twinkies®, CupCakes, Ding Dongs®, Ho Ho’s®, Sno Balls® and Donettes®. Bread brands to be sold include Wonder®, Nature’s Pride ®, Merita®, Home Pride®, Butternut®, and Beefsteak®, among others.

Writing Out the Storm

I've been so inspired by my encounters with writers whose lives have been upended by Hurricane Sandy and are writing through it. Some were without power and Internet for days. Others were dealing with water and other damage brought on by the storm. And they are writing. Through adversity and for their own pleasure and escape, they are moving their own books forward.

Early Sunday on Facebook, Caroline Leavitt (Pictures of You, Girls in Trouble) wrote that she still had “no real internet, no TV, no landline, but heat and light still on…. Going to try and write today and thinking of changing the name of new novel from She’s Not There to Cruel Beautiful World -- which sort of fits with today.”

MJ Rose (The Book of Lost Fragrances, The Hypnotist) was another author who checked in, saying, “It’s a small victory, but I wrote for the third day in a row despite Sandy and this miserable cold. This book is sneeze-proof and writing is not the only the best revenge but the best escape.”

On Twitter, YA author Susane Colasanti (Keep Holding On, So Much Closer) wrote, “I can’t tell you how good it feels to have a solid day of writing after all the #Sandy drama. #amwriting #amalive #amsafe #amthankful”

This excites me. I’m thinking about the books we’ll see in a few years, these children of Sandy. Not books about the storm (though I’m sure we’ll see those, as well), but books brought to fruition inside a passion born of adrenaline and the sheer will not to give in as well as a desire just to get on.

I imagine that they will be brave and thoughtful, these storm-born tomes, no matter their topics. They will speak to us about resilience and human spirit and survival. They will teach us about compassion and understanding and love.

We’ll wait for these stories, for the literary alumna of Frankenstorm 2012. And we’ll read them fondly, sometimes with tears standing in our eyes.

And we’ll remember.

Note: This piece appeared on January Magazine in a slightly different form a few days ago. You can see the original piece here.

Editing in A “Surreal Landscape:” There’s No Place Like Home!

There is more to telling a story than storytelling. Each semi-colon can contribute to the success of your work and the enjoyment your readers will take in your tale.

It’s one thing to know all of this to be true, but sometimes it takes a while for that knowing to sink in. Longer still to figure out a way to share the lesson. I don’t think I’ve seen a more graphic example of the importance of your writing toolkit in how your story is perceived and enjoyed than this TV Guide-style description of a much-loved movie that’s been making the rounds on Facebook.

Transported to a surreal landscape, a young girl kills the first person she meets and then teams up with three strangers to kill again.

This description brings to mind all sorts of possible types of film. One can almost visualize grainy cinematography and a lonely highway… until one realizes the film under discussion is The Wizard of Oz. It’s sobering, in a way: realizing how powerful words can be. And thinking about the responsibility we have as writers to cast those words carefully in order to create the mood and feeling we intend.

Remember Strunk & White: “Make every word tell.” Every comma and em-dash, as well.

Genre Wars 2.0

In a blood pressure-raising piece on The New Yorker’s blog, Arthur Krystal astonishes by drafting a piece that seems to intentionally insult anyone who reads it.

In “It’s Genre. Not That There’s Anything Wrong With It!” Krystal writes:

What I’m trying to say is that “genre” is not a bad word, although perhaps the better word for novels that taxonomically register as genre is simply “commercial.” Born to sell, these novels stick to the trite-and-true, relying on stock characters whose thoughts spool out in Lifetime platitudes. There will be exceptions, as there are in every field, but, for the most part, the standard genre or commercial novel isn’t going to break the sea frozen inside us. If this sounds condescending, so be it. Commercial novels, in general, whether they’re thrillers or romance or science fiction, employ language that is at best undistinguished and at worst characterized by a jejune mentality and a tendency to state the obvious. Which is not to say that some literary novels, as more than a few readers pointed out to me, do not contain a surfeit of decorative description, elaborate psychologizing, and gleams of self-conscious irony. To which I say: so what?

There’s more of this -- a lot more -- but be careful to grab a mittful of Lisinopril before reading. Your blood pressure might demand it.

The New Yorker blog piece is here.

Writing and Teaching and Teaching and Writing

One of the things I find very energizing and helpful to my own writing process is teaching. In fact, though I think writing is the thing I love best in the world, if there must be a second, it’s teaching.

Nothing helps me isolate my thoughts and examine my own processes like pulling them apart in front of curious student eyes. They ask the questions, and you try to describe and it forces you to examine all the angles and possibilities. “How does this work?” someone will say. And you’re expected to know it well enough to give a cohesive answer.

So teaching enhances my own expertise, in a way. It keeps me balanced on the balls of my feet and agile enough with my thoughts and musings that I can give up a concise answer at the notice of a moment.

With that in mind, I'm excited to be immersed in an autumn that has a lot of teaching in it. Aside from some projects recently completed, within the next week, I should be sufficiently sated by the teaching process to happily trundle back to my desk and my isolation in order to start on my next project. Meanwhile, there are a few exciting weeks ahead.

In just a few days, I’ll be at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference in Surrey, British Columbia. While there, I have a full slate of activities, including teaching two workshops: one on Creating an Active Voice and another on Self-Editing. I’ll also be on the Killer Fiction panel that will be moderated by Hallie Ephron. Ephron is awesome and my co-panelists, Michael Slade and Grant McKenzie, are old pals, so I know we’ll have a great time. You can see more about the conference and my part in it here.

Then on October 27th, I’ll be back at the downtown campus of BCIT for the second Publishing Success Seminar. David Middleton, Murray Baker and I had a great time doing this same seminar last spring and there was sufficient demand that we decided to go back and do it again. (And here’s a secret: we’re currently making plans for Victoria, B.C. dates early in the New Year. So if you don't manage to squeeze into the October seminar, you’ll be able to get on the boat and join us in a different city in a few months.)

If you’d like more information on the Publishing Success Network and the October seminar, it’s here.

Maybe I’ll see you soon!

Writing to Live. Living to Write.

It’s possible that, over the years, I’ve quoted Raymond Chandler too often on this blog. I can’t help myself. A lifetime after he shared his many words of wisdom, the ring bright and true and real. Tonight I came across a Chandler quote I hadn’t seen before. Or maybe when I saw it previously, it just didn't resonate. It did tonight:

"The actual writing is what you live for. The rest is something you have to get through in order to arrive at that point."

Maybe it’s just because so much of all of the everything else has been keeping me away from the actual writing of late. And I feel the absence of it in my heart. I have to arrange things differently, I know. Because you just never hear anyone complain that they wasted their lives writing too well or too much.

Seven Lessons I Learned Writing Seven Novels

Writing a novel is very different from writing any other thing. It’s possible to write concisely, lyrically and well in other formats, but the novel makes more extreme demands. Dilettantes don’t write novels, at least not good ones. And why? Because writing a novel is hard.

I’ve completed seven novels. And there are strong strands of a few others in the works. That’s a lot of words and a lot of miles and, as it turns out, a lot of life lessons, as I’m beginning to realize when I peek back. It occurred to me to share them with you.

So here we go: seven lessons learned over the course of writing seven novels. And if you have lessons of your own, feel free to share them here, as well.

1. Have something to say.
That might seem obvious, but we’ve all read books where this was clearly not the case. If you don’t have some strong something to share with your potential readers, you might as well stay home. A book isn’t just characters. And it isn’t just story. It’s a long and important enough journey that there needs to be a reason. Find out what that reason is, and then follow it all the way back.

2. Write the book that makes you happy.
It’s a crap shoot, this writing business. It’s possible you’ll pour everything into your novel and, when you get to “The End,” no one will care. If the book you’re writing makes you happy and is as good as you can make it, there will be no room for regrets. Everyone knows that some of the best books in the world have gotten turned down almost endlessly. And some of the cruddiest ones have sold bazillions of copies. It’s a crazy business. So make sure you’ve written the book that makes your heart happy, then you’ll never have reason for anything but pride.

3. Write the book that’s in your heart.
Writing a book because you think the market wants it is almost always a mistake. You want to write a book. You can feel the shape of it in your heart. Don’t alter that shape to fit a current trend: don’t try to sneak in zombies or vampires where they don’t belong. (And, in any case, aren’t there are enough zombies and vampires in the world already?) Push yourself to write the book your heart dreamed of, and write it in the very best way you can. Nobody -- and I mean NOBODY -- ever complained because they stopped to take the time to write a book that was too good.

4. Write every day.
Now, not everyone agrees with this, but for me it’s essential. If I don’t engage with my work in progress in a meaningful way every single day, it slips out of the high memory place where it needs to be for it to eventually become a book. I want it in the same special spot in my brain reserved for a wonderful book I might otherwise be reading. You know the feeling: where you keep drifting back to that book and thinking about it during the day as you’re going about your business, anxious to get back to the wonderful adventure. The only way I’ve found to keep my work in progress in that place is to engage with it every single day. A bonus: slog away EVERY day and eventually you just can’t help it: you WILL have a book. It’s basic physics.

5. Don’t look back.
Writing a novel is no time for regrets. Especially when you’re starting out, it’s important to get some traction before you look over your shoulder and start to second guess yourself. Move forward while the wind is filling your sails. There will be plenty of time for editing and revision once the first draft is done. But as much as possible while working on that first, pure draft, avoid looking back at the work you’ve done. Okay: it’s possible it’s not as terrific as you think it is on some days, but it’s also not as terrible as you’re figuring it is on others. More forward as long as you can without going back and poking at your delicate work in progress. It will help you get there more quickly and powerfully in the end.

6. Will power will get you there.
I quit smoking a few years ago and have said widely that it was nowhere near as difficult as I’d been led to believe it would be. “I’ve given birth,” is what I’ve said, “and I’ve written a novel. And both of those things were way harder than quitting smoking.” It may seem an odd connection, but there’s more here than you think. I’ve discovered that, every day I sit down to write, I’m exercising some of the same muscles of will that helped me quit smoking. Writing a book is hard. It’s way easier to fritter on Facebook or twiddle about on Twitter. When you write, you’re engaging every part of you conscious and subconscious (or you should be!) and that’s not always an easy thing to call up at will.

7. Go hard or go home.
When you’re writing a novel is not the time for half measures. When you’re editing, do you think it would be tighter if you reworked this part? Rework it! Would it be sharper if you developed this character or relationship further? Then do that, too! Writing a good novel should be a painful process. That is, it should hurt you to get it right. It should be difficult enough that it causes you some pain and even, at times, makes you bleed. If it were easy, everyone would be able to do it. If it were easy, it would not be as special when it was done.

Book of the Day!

Today the third Madeline Carter novel, Calculated Loss, is an EReader News Book of the Day. I’m fairly astonished by this outfit. They do a great job on reporting the emerging e-book market and what’s available and what will be soon. And they’re pretty much the bomb. I’m astonished, for instance, that their Facebook page has over 300,000 likes and from what I can tell, their web site is just as well followed.

See their terrific coverage of Calculated Loss here.

A Virtual Book Launch

A virtual book launch can actually be a lot of fun, or so I discovered yesterday evening when I invited a bunch of my Facebook friends to join in the celebration of my fist original electronic novel, The Indigo Factor.

The snacks served and consumed included cheese and champagne fountains (virtually, of course) with guests getting into the spirt of things and improvising crab cakes, steamed mussels and other nibbles appropriate to such a high faulting’ occasion. “I've dripped virtual cheese on my virtual Dior shift,” a guest wrote at one point. “That'll stain. Got any soda water?” And so on, well into the evening.

One guest even sent in a photo of her cat reading her newly downloaded copy of The Indigo Factor. (I’m a little bit nervous of what the cat thinks of the book. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that he likes it.)

You can still see the wreckage from the party here. Thanks to everyone who participated! As a special gift for guests, I arranged for Hitting Back to be free on Amazon for a couple of days. You still have today -- Wednesday -- to download your free copy, so scoot over there now.

Another Book, Another Cover

Who judges a book by its cover? Pretty much everyone. Even if you don’t consciously do so, a cover is doing a lot more for a book than you know.

Nor is a cover just a random collection of images and type. Though you want an outstanding cover, there are certain conventions within each genre that send a clear and instantaneous message. I can always tell a young adult novel as soon as I pull it out of its packaging. Likewise, a novel of suspense, a literary work and so on. It’s not that all books in that sub-genre look the same. They don’t. But there are subtle details that make them distinct. You get these details wrong at your own peril. If everyone who sees my new thriller thinks it’s a book for kids, I’ve got several layers of problem on my hands.

For The Indigo Factor, as with all of the books published under my direct control, the cover was designed by David Middleton. If you’re looking to get a cover designed, you should also find a designer whose work you like and whose ability you trust. Early in the process, David asked me what I envisioned. I gave him some vague ideas and he went in another direction entirely. That’s just how we roll. But I love this cover.

The image he created is not a scene from the book. Rather, it’s meant to evoke the spirit of the book. It’s a work of suspense. I think anyone could tell that. There are some deeply frightening elements. The single reflection in the water when there are two children standing nearby that without overstating it. And as readers learn deep in the book, there actually are two children, though one is not as he seems.

Then there is the forest at night. That speaks volumes. Forests at night are scary. Everyone knows that.

As always, David makes it look easy. There's not much going on there, right? Yet it’s polished and, I think, pitch perfect. It tells a story without giving anything away.