Welcome back to the continuation of last week's post from Homicide Detective Hussey. If you missed it, you'll want to read it first to refresh your memory about Billy, the practical joker and the rest of the players And perhaps it's a fitting post for a Friday the 13th--the second in two months. Where we left off ... Also in November, Sergeant Andy Yatchesky was working internal affairs out of the office of the Chief of Police. Andy was growing accustomed to the chief's daily tirades and was always looking for a way to get on his good side. Officer Billy Hyatt knew that the Sergeant would love some information that no one else had. Billy formulated a plan..... "Mornin Sarge," Billy said as he met Yatchesky in the lobby. "Officer Hyatt, how are you?" "Okay," Billy replied, "but did you hear about Inspector Thileson?""No." The Sergeant looked interested."He died this morning." Billy's voice trailed off and he tried to look sad. Keep Reading...
"Who told you?"
"His wife called me early this morning. He just fell asleep and didn't wake up. We were really close." Billy's face was stone sober as he laid it on.
"I'd better tell the Chief," Andy said and walked briskly away.
Billy found some paperwork to keep busy until the Sergeant returned.
"Thank you for the information, Billy," Andy said. "The Chief hadn't heard the news. He called the City Manager and funeral arrangements are being made."
"Holy shit." Billy jumped up out of his chair. "You didn't tell the Chief that shit did you?"
Andy turned ghost white. "What are you saying? Oh my God Billy, I'm not taking the fall for this. If this is another one of your sick jokes, you're through. I'll kill you."
Billy didn't hear the rest. He was running out the back door and getting into his car. The sergeant was still screaming when Billy squealed out of the parking lot at 9:05 am.
A number of calls were left with Billy's wife that day with instructions to call as soon as he returned. An APB was broadcast to all units with orders to bring Officer Hyatt to the station immediately upon contact (DEAD OR ALIVE). But Billy Hyatt was nowhere to be found. He had just disappeared.
That afternoon at 3:28 PM, in the oncology ward of the Lakeland General Hospital, Inspector Jim Thileson "succumbed to a prolonged illness," or so the obituary read.
Andy Yatchesky will tell you, though he has no proof, he believes Officer Hyatt, who has no alibi to this day for his activities of that fateful afternoon, had a hand in the coincidental death of the much maligned Inspector.
Andy wasn't too upset though, because the Chief and the City Manager had the funeral plans already in the works and came off like the heads up guys that they were. Although the Chief saw the time on the death certificate and remarked to his secretary that it must be a mistake, he never questioned it. Sergeant Andy Yatchesky became Lieutenant Andy Yatchesky and decided to keep his mouth shut too.
The men of the Lakeland Police Department especially the midnight shift got their revenge also. After taking a ten-eight, they would drive to the Spur gas station, where they would consume copious amounts of black coffee. Between two and three AM, when their bladders could stand the pressure no longer, they would make their way to the city cemetery.
As they drove through the large wrought iron gates, they would kill the lights to their cruisers and stealthily coast to the rear of the cemetery and find the final resting place of Inspector Thileson. Each night without fail, several of the faithful would gather there to relieve themselves on the grass and headstone, which bore the inspector's name. Sometimes there would be a line. It became a ritual among those who had known him well.
As one patrolman said, "It is a fitting tribute."
What I'm reading: Rogue's Challenge, by Jo BarrettIn case you're not aware, this is Read an E-book Week. If you're not familiar with reading digital books, this might be a great time to give it a try. A lot of publishers and e-bookstores are making free reads available. Not sure you're ready for an e-book reading device? Try a short story, more easily read on a computer. The way I see it, digital books shouldn't be thought of as a way to replace print, but rather, to give readers an alternative. A choice. Onward ... Today at the Y, I got into two very interesting discussions.Keep Reading...
The first was with a woman who knows I'm a writer. Now, she's an avid reader and volunteers at the library, so it's not that she's someone (although I still can't understand how they exist) who just doesn't read.
She read a few of my Wild Rose Press short stories, but says she doesn't read my genre enough to be interested in trying one of my novels. But today she stopped me and told me I'd be interested to know she was reading a "trashy book."
I smiled and mentioned that we all have our own definitions of "trash", and that there are different levels for different readers. I told her I write what I consider to be mystery books, but because there's a strong relationship that ends on a positive note, they're called Romance, even though they're not the short Harlequin category books, which is what most people think of when you say "romance."
She went on to ask who decided what kind of a book it was. I told her that ultimately, it's the publisher's decision. When Danger Calls is action adventure, and if it was lying on a table, the cover would definitely not say, "This is a Romance."
Finding Sarah is another book that I think is as much mystery as romance. The cover (which I really like) doesn't scream "Romance" either. The sequel, Hidden Fire, which to me is much more of a mystery book, definitely says "I'm a Romance."
Next, I bumped into a couple, also a bit older than I am--but not that much -- who had bought When Danger Calls. The gentleman said he'd read the book and was a bit confused. I asked him to explain. He said he was about halfway through before he realized he just might be reading a ... romance. He enjoyed the book, but we got back into that label discussion I'd just had. (Yes, I did actually work out -- these conversations took place before and after.) His wife has just started the book, and I'm sure she's going to read it differently.
Does it matter what you call it if it's a good story? The gentleman will probably never admit to anyone that he read and enjoyed a ... romance. But he did.
Come back tomorrow -- I'll be sharing part 3 of Cop Humor, provided by "Homicide - Hussey"
What I'm reading: Highlander's Challenge by Jo BarrettYesterday's guest brought out lots of nostalgic food memories. Thanks again to Jennifer Johnson for sharing. A couple of promotional bits -- I'm one of the featured authors at The Romance Studio for March. The interview, featuring When Danger Calls, is here. Also - if you belong to a book club and are interested in reading When Danger Calls for discussion, the publisher is offering a very nice discount. Email me for details. And, if you missed the post where I offered a copy of my Dialogue Basics handout, you can email me and request that one as well.On Saturday, our RWA chapter hosted author Tracy Montoya who spoke about openings, pacing, and compelling scenes.
Keep Reading...
She shared "The Worst Novel Opener in the World" -- her own designation, and since she wrote it, she's not harming anyone's reputation.
If you're an author, you want your reader to be dragged into the story on page one. Paragraph one. Even sentence one. If you're trying to sell, you want that agent or editor to keep reading. And if you ask agents and editors how many pages they read when they get submissions, they'll say they read until there's a reason to stop. If they're not caught up, that might be after the first paragraph. No use in saying, "It gets really good in chapter seven." It's got to be that good on page one. An opening sentence can bias the editor's opinion of what comes next.
Start in the midst of the action, Tracy recommends. Caveat: you want the reader to be curious, not confused. You want them to ask compelling questions. You want them to care about the characters and want them to wonder what's going to happen next, right from the opening paragraph.
OK -- I'm not a plotter. And as I'm reworking one of my novels, I'm playing with a new one. Since my agent recommended holding off on writing another Blackthorne, Inc. story, I figured it might be a good time to start from scratch. My approach tends to be, "write something and see where it takes you. Then develop the characters, then the story."
So, after the workshop, I went and looked at my opening few paragraphs. Are there any questions that arise? What do you think? Are your questions the 'good' kind, or do they fall into that, "Why should I care?" category?
Lights flashed on her phone like lightning bugs on steroids. Megan pressed the intercom button. "Crystal, I've got to get this proposal finished for Mr. Davidson. Can you please handle these calls?"
Damn, Megan missed Sandi. Consoling herself that her efficient and unflappable secretary would be back in two weeks, Megan kept most of the aggravation out of her tone. "Tell them I'll get back to them."
"I'm sorry Ms. Wyatt. I tried, but they insisted it was important. I said you were away from your desk, like you told me, but they kept saying they'd hold. Like they knew I was lying."
Of course they did. The kid couldn't stretch the truth, much less lie, even over the phone. Crystal seemed on the verge of tears, as if she'd shatter like her name. Again. That's what Megan got for letting Human Resources send her a wet-behind-the-ears temp instead of someone inside the company to fill in while her secretary was away. So what if it was Sandi's honeymoon. She should have been able to predict that March would be hell month before she picked her wedding date.
Megan took a cleansing breath. "It's okay, Crystal. Who do I have waiting?"
There was a shuffling sound, as if Crystal was consulting her notes. Good. At least she realized her memory wasn't reliable.
"Mr. Holland, Miss Breckenridge, Mr. Davis or Davidson or something like that, and … and someone named Angie, who said you'd know who she was and to put her right through. I told them all you'd call back, but they—"
Shit. Angie? Calling her at work? She stared at the flashing lights. "Which line is Angie?"
Thoughts, anyone? Is there any reason to care about Megan? To wonder what happens next? Or do you put the book back on the shelf and pick up another one to sample? And why?
Today my guest is Wild Rose Press author Jennifer Johnson telling us how food and food memories help bring a story to life. Eating at Granny's HouseMy granny used to make these fried pies with a chocolate filling. There was nothing better than one of those pies fresh out of her iron skillet. My cousins and I would wrap napkins around them because they were too hot for our little fingers.
We’d nibble on the
edge of the crust trying not to burn our lips in the process.
Another specialty of hers was “Cat Head” biscuits. They weren’t made from cat parts. I think the name comes from the size of the biscuit. Sometimes we ate the biscuits with red eyed gravy, a disturbing name for gravy. I never asked why it was called this. Perhaps because I was afraid of the answer. But, oh, boy, were those cat head biscuits good for sopping up the gravy. When I think of all of these bad-for-you delectable foods, it’s no wonder so many members of my family have heart disease.
If you can’t fry it, it ain’t worth eating. My favorite vegetable? Okra, of course. Chop it, bread it, and fry it. I could make a meal out of it. Now, some people like it boiled. Not me. When you boil okra, it’s disgustingly slimy in a snot sort of way. So, I eat mine fried or not at all.
Keep Reading...
Granny was also very gifted in frying chicken. I’m a big fan of fried chicken. I’m pretty sure this is because of an incident between me and a young rooster when I was about five. Apparently, I got too close to him and his feathered friends. When he started chasing me, I couldn’t outrun him, and he spurred me from the back of my neck down to my heels as I screamed and cried my way down the dirt road to Granny’s house. My mom claims no one could say the word “rooster” around me for weeks without me bursting into tears, but fried chicken never tasted so good. I guess in my young brain, every time I ate fried chicken, I was enacting revenge on that mean rooster.
For many of us food is more than just food. A taste of home-fried chicken can propel me back to Billingsley, Alabama and my girlhood. In books as well I have found a great medium of creating atmosphere with food. In The Jinx, Ellen makes a chicken casserole for Rick, her love interest. Why chicken casserole? Well, it travels well, and it is a very domestic-type of dish. Though Ellen doesn’t realize it, she’s letting Rick know she’s ready to set up house with him!
So, do you have a certain dish that is more than just food to you?
Jennifer Johnson’s book The Jinx is available now from The Wild Rose Press. Her second book, The Clergy Affair, will be available in July of this year. Come visit her website at http://booksbyjenniferjohnson.com or her blog at http://jennfrancesca.blogspot.com/
What I'm reading: Fireside, by Susan WiggsDespite all the wonderful speakers, panels and writer camaraderie, this year's SleuthFest had one missing piece. Author Barbara Parker. Her cancer had recurred, and she was spending her final days in a hospice, surrounded by family.She was one of the first authors I met at my very first conference, and I was impressed by her workshop on crafting a mystery. I'd never read anything of hers, so I began with her first book in the "Suspicion" series. Even though I thought I'd created my 'perfect hero' in my first attempt at writing a novel, her Anthony had my Randy beat.When I attended my first SleuthFest, I submitted my first chapter for her workshop, one in which she would take five authors' work, and discuss and critique them. She didn't accept it for the workshop, but she returned my pages with, "let's discuss this" written on the bottom.Keep Reading...
I hung around after the final session, and over lunch (I paid, of course), she proceeded to tell me that I had writing talent, but needed to learn how to structure a story. It took two more tries before she accepted my work for one of the 'hot seats.' Barbara never pulled her punches. I recall being glad she'd rejected my first attempt when she told one of the authors there was nothing wrong with his writing that a good pair of scissors couldn't fix.
But she always had time to talk to beginners, treating them as though it would only be a matter of minutes before they were published. I showed her the first pages of the mystery short story I was trying to write, and her eyes opened wide. "You have really gotten better!" she said. She asked me to send her the whole thing, and after she finished, she told me to call her. We discussed it for almost an hour (I think she would have gone on, but her cell phone battery was fading.).
Barbara Parker passed away last Saturday. The tributes pouring onto the Florida MWA chapter loop all say the same thing. She shared. She never let you feel there was an "I'm published. You're not" attitude. She will be sorely missed.
And, although I can't pretend that my qualifications come close to hers, in the spirit of sharing, I will send anyone who requests it a copy of my Dialogue Basics handout from the SleuthFest 2009 panel. All you have to do is send an email to the address on the sidebar requesting it. It'll be a PDF file .
Tomorrow, my guest will be Jennifer Johnson, who's talking about one of my favorite things. Food. Please come back.
Detective Hussey continues to provide glimpses into the sometimes 'off center' world of Law Enforcement.James Thileson had come to work for the City of Lakeland's Department of Police in the late forties. Jim's family was one of the few that had founded Polk County. Jim's father fought in France in World War One, and lived to tell about it. Jim graduated from the old Lakeland School and joined the Navy during World War Two. He fought valiantly in the south pacific and was decorated for his bravery. When the war ended and Jim was discharged, there was never any question that he would return home. One of Jim's brothers had become a city firefighter. The pay was pretty good and the job had good benefits and a real future.Jim had always been his own man though, and when he saw an ad in the local newspaper for police officers, he decided that it could be right up his alley. The am radio was abuzz with news of J. Edgar Hoover and his G-Men, and a radio show called "Dragnet" with Jack Webb as Sergeant Joe Friday was very popular. Law enforcement was seen as a glamorous profession. Jim took the test for police officer, passed it and was given a job as a beat policeman downtown. There were no backup units and no police radios in those days. When the police station, located in the fire department downtown on Cedar Street had a call for an officer, they would flip a switch in the office, which in turn would light a red light, located on a power pole downtown. 
When the officer walked by and noticed that the light had been lit, he would go to the pole, unlock the call box with his key, and pick up the telephone receiver. The phone would ring automatically at police headquarters and the officer would be dispatched to the call.Keep Reading...
Thileson worked his way up through the ranks and by the time the late sixties had rolled around, he had reached the rank of Captain. As the nineteen-seventies arrived, Jim's health was failing. He had heart problems and diabetes. He could no longer conduct his duties as captain and as a personal favor to his lifelong friend, the then also ailing Chief of Police, Leo Brooker, promoted Thileson to the rank of Inspector. It was a new rank and one that had never been used before. It has not been used since.
Jim's position was kind of a general assistant to the chief. He attended city commission meetings, made sure maintenance on the new Police building at 20 Lake Wire Drive got done, and in the words of some of the officers, "He should hold the rank of General because all he does is walk around being a general nuisance to everyone."
As Inspector, Thileson's illness worsened, so did his demeanor. He would stop people and chastise them for their haircuts, he would follow guys around and catch them leaving their zone or stopping for coffee, and he would just be plain nasty to everyone. Many a rookie would be screamed at for no apparent reason by the inspector. Whatever good things he had done as a young cop, had been forgotten. Most of the new guys called him "the old asshole" behind his back. Everybody hated him. He was just taking up space.
In 1974, the inspector was diagnosed with terminal cancer and went home for good. The road cops, who are known for being unforgiving, asked if anyone knew where the cancer had come from...perhaps they could get some for some of the other administrators.
In November of 1974, there was a new Chief in town. Herbert William Straley had come from somewhere up North and by all account was a little crazy. He was in the habit of firing the messenger who brought him bad news, and many an unsuspecting cop has been the recipient of an "ass chewing" for something he had no clue he had done. You just didn't tell the Chief he was wrong.
Once he was on his way to work and called the station on the police radio. "One," the voice bellowed across the radio.
"Go ahead, unit one," the rookie dispatcher replied.
"Patch me through to the Sheriff!"
"I'm sorry Chief, but we don't have those capabilities."
"You're fired!" the Chief screamed. "Now get me someone who can do what I want."
Another dispatcher ended up calling the Sheriff on the telephone and holding the receiver next to the keyed mike so the Chief could yell at the Sheriff. His reputation was well known.
Also in November, Sergeant Andy Yatchesky was working internal affairs out of the office of the Chief of Police. Andy was growing accustomed to the chief's daily tirades and was always looking for a way to get on his good side. Officer Billy Hyatt knew that the Sergeant would love some information that no one else had. Billy formulated a plan.....
To be continued ... come back next week.
Today's post is a bit different. I'm one of a small group of "ambassadors" for a new website, Go Green, Read e. I'll be bouncing around the blogosphere for the next 12 weeks, discussing the concept of Green.
The concept is far from new. Way back when I was in high school and college, Ecology was the 'new' thing. The buzzword then was simply "conservation." Now it's "green," but the premise is the same. There are only so many resources on the planet, and if we want there to be anything left for future generations, we have to look beyond ourselves and farther into the future than next week.Example: Gas prices skyrocketed. Gas guzzler car sales plummeted. People stayed at home more. But what happens when the prices drop? Do people consider that maybe their Hummer isn't the best vehicle on the road from a conservation standpoint, or do they simply sigh with relief that it doesn't cost an entire paycheck to fill it up and go back to their old ways?Keep Reading...
I've been talking about SleuthFest this week. Conferences usually take place at hotels, and since I live in a state that depends a great deal on tourism for its economy, there are a lot of people staying in hotels year round. As a matter of fact, about half the visitors to the state stay in hotels. Most of these folks want to enjoy what Florida has to offer – beaches, nature preserves, and the great outdoors.
On the wall by the registration counter of the Hilton in Deerfield Beach, where SleuthFest was held, was a certificate stating that the hotel was a participant in Florida Green Lodging. This is a program under the Florida Department of Environmental Protection. It's designed to reduce waste and conserve natural resources, enabling everyone to enjoy what they came to Florida for—not just today, but way down the road.
When you go to a hotel, especially if it's one on the higher end of the spectrum and you're paying major bucks for your room, you expect luxuries. But how many do you really need? The Hilton makes it clear that unless you request otherwise, they're only going to change your sheets every 3 days. They also encourage you to re-use towels.
What does the hotel have to do? Some things to look for: recycling in guest rooms, the lobby, vending or eating areas; compact fluorescent light bulbs (CFL’s) throughout the hotel; low flow toilets, showerheads and faucets; linen and/or towel reuse programs; the use of “green” cleaners and Energy Star rated electronics and appliances. Each hotel has a slightly different program, but they have to meet with the approval of the DEP before they can be designated a "green" property.
Perks for the hotels who participate? Our governor requires that any state meetings be held at a Green Lodging hotel. In addition, they're listed on the DEP website, so anyone who's looking for environmentally conscious properties can find them.
And, as part of my agreement to be an 'ambassador', I'm required to close with the following:
Terry Odell is a romance author and avid eBook reader, blogging this month for All Romance eBooks' Go Green/Read e Campaign. Find out more about the Go Green/Read e Campaign at www.gogreenreade.com. To learn more about Terry, visit her website at www.terryodell.com. You can find Terry Odell's ebooks and thousands of other eBooks on-line at www.allromanceebooks.com.
What I'm reading: Sudden Prey, by John SandfordContinuing my SleuthFest recap:This year, the conference expanded from a strictly panel format to include a workshop track, where a single presenter addressed a specific topic. S.J. Rozan spoke about characters, and since for me, what's a book without characters you care about, it was my choice for that slot. She began by pointing out that of all the creative media, writers deal with content, not impressions. She lives in New York, and was (like most of us, but perhaps more so because of it) impacted by 9-11. Whereas an artist can paint or a musician can compose a piece of music to explore their emotions, writers have to tell a story. Writing, she went on to say, opens a portal between the conscious and subconscious minds. Characters are a part of the author; they're bits and pieces of the author's subconscious peeking through. And, she made clear that characterization is not character. It's not a description of his wavy brown hair, his muscular physique, his size twelve shoes. It's not what the character does, it's why he does it. Character is revealed in a character's actions, behavior, activity and dialogue. For example:Keep Reading...
You're driving down the road. You see an accident. There's an unconscious man lying next to his car. Other cars speed on by. One stops. A man gets out and rushes to the victim, kneeling beside him. What's your impression of his character? He's offering first aid, so he's a good person, right? But what if he takes the man's wallet and then walks away?
She used another example that's been used at so many conference workshops: The DaVinci Code, one of the few books where plot was more important than character. In that book many of the characters were cartoons, but the leads were cardboard. Why? Because there was no internal conflict. A character must want something, however trivial, on every page. She asked us whether we're ever completely content, and if so, for how long?
After that, she put us to work. We were given four minutes to write a description of a room using all five senses, from a specific character's POV. (Why don't pens come with cut and paste?) After that, we had another four minutes to write the same character, same room, but this time the character was going to steal something. The last exercise was the same, but this time, the character had just said good-bye to someone he or she loved.
Much as I dread having to create at someone's command, the exercises do help to remind us that when we're writing, it's vital to make sure it's our character on the page, and that we remain in the background.
Welcome Judy Nickles who shares her writing fear, and how she overcomes it. What is the bane of any writer’s existence? A blank piece of paper/empty computer screen. . .the words just won’t come. Probably no writer anywhere can say honestly that this hasn’t happened to her at least once. Let’s face it---when there’s nothing to say, there’s just nothing to say!
When I was busy raising children, taking care of elderly parents, and earning a living in the classroom, I never lacked for ideas, only the time to write them down and develop them. Retired now, with a cozy empty nest, I have no excuse.So where do the ideas come from? Every writer has her unique source. I write vintage pieces, so having a master’s in history and a lifelong fascination with the days of the Great Depression and World War II doesn’t hurt. I spend a lot of time doing research to make sure the facts fit and some horrible anachronism doesn’t destroy the characters’ credibility.Keep Reading...
Words of old songs, snatches of dialogue, faded pictures, a stop on a historic tour. . .all these things have triggered ideas for short stories and novels. Keeping a notebook at hand to jot down ideas is an old but totally relevant suggestion.
I often blog about recent news article and throw in a little history just for background. Memories. . .at my age, they crowd in, and sometimes they spark a story. Thirty-odd years of genealogical research have turned up some interesting tidbits, too:
• Who knew the truth of the wild ride down the old wagon road and the blood-stained floors left behind? • What made a man, with thirteen children of his own, fetch his wife’s two orphaned sisters from the place they were living and bring them home?
• Was the handsome young man in the high collar and puff tie just a picture in an old album or a lost love?
• They had five daughters and wanted a son---but why did they keep moving to hide his identity?
• What did she leave behind in Alabama, only to lose more in Texas?
• Why was the young mother buried in an unmarked grave—unwept, unhonored, and unsung?
• What inner strength did the orphan boy possess that kept him going through ninety-six years, despite the harsh blows he endured?
• What felled this family so soon after the trip across Texas in a covered wagon, and who inscribed the hand-hewn tombstones that mark their final resting places?
• The bordellos operated in plain sight, so why, three generations later, do people refuse to acknowledge the women who worked there?
• What spurred a man to withdraw from a group of local vigilantes, sell his land, and move his family out of the state?
• Is it a coincidence that the small grave fell in the very summer that hospital records went missing?
These and so many other questions may forever remain unanswered in real life. In stories, however, they are destined to take on a new life all their own. I’ll never stop searching for the truth, but while I’m at it, I’ll keep writing about what I’d like for the truth to be.
Visit Judy at her website and blog to learn more about her numerous short story series. In addition, she's looking forward to her novel set in the thirties, Where is Papa's Shining Star? from The Wild Rose Press.
What I'm reading: Promises in Death, by JD RobbBack from another wonderful SleuthFest. The organizers go all out to make everyone welcome. I remember being in awe of authors who would actually talk to me, answer my questions, and not frantically search for a way to escape. This year, I realized that I'm now one of the "authors", and people ask me questions. I still have a tendency to turn around to see who they're really talking to. I found something interesting at every session. Often, I wished for a clone so I could attend two at the same time. Keep Reading...
Starting at the end, our closing breakfast speakers addressed the world of publishing. Throughout the conference, as in any writer's conference I've attended, the mantra is "Don't give up. Persistence separates the authors with books on the shelves from those with books under their beds (or, more likely now, on their hard drives).
Neil Nyren of Putnam pointed out that over his career in publishing, there have always been down times, yet they've always recovered. Both keynote speakers, Brad Meltzer and John Hart, spoke of their rejections. I sat with the agent who had been on the YA panel I moderated, and we talked about rejection letters, and how they often are total opposites – for example, here are bits from two of mine:
The ms. opens with a bang and the pacing never lets up—I’m afraid I wasn’t quite as taken with the depictions of the romance between Dalton and Miri, which felt, to my mind, a tad forced.
There is some nice sexual tension here, but ultimately the pace of the novel feels too slow for romantic suspense.
He told me that he tells his authors to focus on the fact that there is something positive in each rejection, and that it's a matter of finding that ONE person who likes all of the pieces.
But why am I starting with the closing event? Because one of the topics brought up was the concept of branding. Neil Nyren pointed out that authors shouldn't try to brand themselves too early, because it takes four or five books before they've settled into their niche. He spoke of the evolution of covers for authors, how they might begin as illustrations depicting the content of the book. Eventually, there is some underlying similarity in the covers so readers know who wrote it. Lee Child's covers look very much alike. I got home and looked at the next book in my TBR pile. If ever there was an illustration of 'branding', it would be this book. We can all dream of the day!
Tomorrow, my guest is Judy Nickles, who is eagerly awaiting the release date for her first novel. She's going to share some of the ways she goes from blank page to one filled with stories. Please come by. I'll continue with SleuthFest postings on Wednesday.
