Lynne Raimondo from James W. Ziskin

Shine a light on another writer. Who's a writer you believe deserves more attention?

What a bittersweet question. Or rather my answer to it is bittersweet. But more on that in a moment.

Lynne Raimondo

Let me tell you about Lynne Raimondo, a brilliant writer who richly deserves more attention. She’s the author of three wonderfully complex, smart crime novels featuring blind psychologist Mark Angelotti.

Before she became a writer, Lynne Raimondo was a trial lawyer at a major Chicago law firm, the general counsel of Arthur Andersen LLP, and the general counsel of the Illinois Department of Revenue. In case you don’t realize, those were huge jobs. In fact, Lynne handled the winding down of Arthur Andersen after the Enron and WorldCom accounting frauds in the early 2000s. A thankless job, as you might imagine, and one she feared at the time might land her name on the front page of The New York Times. Luckily, that didn’t happen. Lynne had nothing to do with the scandal that led to the Arthur Andersen collapse. She just had to clean up the mess.

When my writing career was just getting started, Lynne was the first writer I met. Our editor put us in touch via e-mail, and we hit it off immediately. She read my first book and provided me with my very first blurb. I read her wonderful novels with great enthusiasm and attention.

Her Mark Angelotti trilogy is comprised of Dante’s Wood (2013), Dante’s Poison (2014), and Dante’s Dilemma (2015). This is a remarkable series, not only compelling for its careful depiction of a blind man's daily struggles, but for its intelligence, superb plotting, and tight twists. Deeper and more complex with each episode, these three books are richly rewarding.

In the series opener, Dante's Wood, we meet Mark Angelotti, a troubled, complex character whose failings—and their consequences—have scarred him deeply. His unflinching honesty with himself (and the reader) about his sins is what opens the door for redemption in our eyes. The burden is a heavy one to bear, and his blindness may be the least of his penance. Lynne navigates the Dante (Divine Comedy) angle deftly, without beating us over the head with the irony of Mark's punishment. No heavy hand here. And, as in the Comedy, there are paths to "salvation."

Now the bitter part. Dear Lynne died unexpectedly on November 12, 2020. Five years ago, amazing award-winning writer (and super awesome friend) Lori Rader-Day phoned me to break the sad news. Lori, Lynne, and I all got our starts with the same publisher—our fellow Criminal Mind Terry Shames, too. We were a close-knit bunch, and I know Lori and Terry loved Lynne as I did. With her sharp wit and generous heart, Lynne inspired respect and love throughout our writing community.

I spoke to Lynne about three weeks before she passed away. Just chatting over the phone. Everything was fine, aside from the lingering effects of her painful bout with Lyme disease, but she was slowly feeling better. We were making plans to get together in Maine with her husband, Stanley, and my wife, who truly thought the world of Lynne. Then, a short time later when I heard the news of her death, I cursed. Felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Not fair. And unreal.

Anyone who knew Lynne knew she was incredibly talented. A great writer, lawyer, chef, and painter. She was one of the smartest people I ever met and wickedly funny, too. We traded humorous insults in our respective books. In her third novel, Dante’s Dilemma, she named (patterned) a doddering professor after me. And I returned the favor, calling a screeching soprano “La Raimondo” in my Heart Of Stone.

But more than the laughs we shared, I will always be grateful to Lynne for helping me find my moral compass. Years ago, I was faced with a difficult ethical choice in the promotion of my writing career. I felt uncomfortable participating in a certain event, and Lynne talked me through it. She helped me realize that no publicity was worth sacrificing my principles, even a small measure of my principles. She did it without preaching or arguing, and I’ll never forget her sage counsel.

Yes, Lynne was a cherished friend. But she was also a terrific writer. So, for reasons both critical and personal, I urge you to read Lynne’s three Dante novels, which deserve a lot more attention than they’ve received. 

I invite anyone who knew Lynne to leave a little comment below. May her memory be a blessing.

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Guest post by Lisa de Nikolits

Shine a light on another writer. Who's a writer you believe deserves more attention?

In order to answer this week's question, I've invited Lisa de Nikolits to write a guest post. She's the award-winning author of twelve novels, as well as numerous short stories and poetry, garnering five-star reviews and a strong international fanbase. She lives and writes in The Beaches of Toronto, and she's definitely an author that deserves more attention.

Crushing on Gangsters — by Lisa

Writing a gangster novel is on everyone’s bucket list, right? It certainly was on mine.

The idea for the book had been simmering for a while and three inciting incidents kicked me into action; the first was to pen a short story for 13 Claws, a Mesdames of Mayhem anthology (2017) and the second was Mad Dog Esposito who I couldn’t get out of my mind. 

I was haunted by a Weegee (Arthur Fellig, 1899-1968) gallery exhibit showcasing Mad Dog Esposito. Weegee commented that Mad Dog “looked like a stubborn, surly, snarling animal. He stumbled and sagged over to one side, like a drunk.” 

There are so many aspects of this photograph that I loved. Truth be told, I mildly fell in love with Mad Dog Esposito; his dishevelled sexiness, his moral anarchy, his casual, oversized trench coat, the torn shirt and ripped jacket revealing a manly chest, and his handsome features and long dark eyelashes completing his poster boy persona with a complete disregard for civilized life. He was the kind of Clyde that this Bonnie could imagine running away with. Because don’t we all dream of running away and living a wild life and going out in a blaze of bullets and glory? Hmm… perhaps not!

The third compelling force behind writing Mad Dog and the Sea Dragon was the obsessive desire to bring protagonist, Jessica Wren, into the world. I saw her as a very young Kim Basinger in LA Confidential, with a murderous family legacy and an ongoing twisted relationship with her vicious ugly sister. It all was quite Cinderella. 

The challenge was working all of that into a book. If I had my druthers, I’d write in the style of The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan, The Postman Always Rings Twice by James M. Cain, Pulp by Charles BukBukowski, and Karate is a Thing of the Spirit by Harry Crews. 

Other influences included the Godfather’s Vito Corleone and Scarface’s Tony Montana (with his mountains of cocaine, his obsessive stalker obsession for Elvira Hancock played by Michelle Pfeiffer, as well as Tony’s over-the-top violence). Tony was Cuban, so I took liberties with my gangster characters because I also wanted to weave in aspects of Get Carter, a 1970’s movie about a Newcastle-based gangster, Jack Carter (one of my all-time favourite movies). 

I wanted to add some Tarantino-style odd-ball whimsy, Tarantino’s style, with a twist of the workings of my own mind which naturally leans toward the fantastical, stretching the truth, and morphing it into an imaginative (but convincing) experience like no other. Events and relationships become heightened and often, very funny. 

Add to that a Margaret Thatcher-inspired stepmother, a hunky bodyguard Trevor (see  Jean-Claude Van Damme, all caramel-tanned, ripped and gleaming in Bloodsport, (1988), and the 1989 homoerotic glam fest Kickboxer (1989), and throw in high-school sweetheart Joey, inspired by Gus Van Sant’s unforgettable and eternally spectacular Drugstore Cowboy, (1989), set in 1971. Matt Dillon as Bob Hughes and his wife Dianne (Kelly Lynch) are forever carved in my heart. 

That’s a lot, right? 

And yet it all fell into place. I also watch a lot of true crime and human tragedy; The Dark Side of the Ring (VICE TV), Mafia: Most Wanted (CRAVE, Canada) and of course, Forensic Files, which shows ordinary people committing heinous crimes and getting away with it for years. 

And then there are the cons. Take The Grifters (1990), again, an unforgettable movie which sowed a seed; I simply had to write a novel with complex cons. 

The Big Con: Great Hoaxes, Frauds, Grifts, and Swindles in American History by Nate Hendley was a great resource, as was unavoidable Google and various library books, and of course, I decided to cook up a new con, just for fun. I don’t want to tell you what the cons were – you need to read the book!

And then there were the gangster nicknames! Which writer could resist the opportunity to come up with new gangster names? 

There isn’t a single character in Mad Dog and Sea Dragon that I don’t love with all my heart. And no, the book didn’t end up being a combination of all the influences I listed above (which is probably a good thing!) but, with a lot of love, dedication, hard work, powerful beta readers and time, I’m delighted with the end result of Mad Dog and the Sea Dragon and I really hope you’ll enjoy the book too!

LINKS:

Facebook author page: 

https://www.facebook.com/lisadenikolitsauthor/

Twitter: 

https://x.com/lisadenikolits

Instagram: 

https://www.instagram.com/ireadsomewherethatbylisa/

Author website: 

https://lisawriter.com

Shining a Light

 

Terry here with our question of the week: 

 Who's a writer you believe deserves more attention? What makes their work meaningful to you, and how has it influenced your own? 

 Alas, this week’s question stymied me. A writer I think deserves more attention? You mean ONE? No, that’s impossible. There are many little-known writers who grab my attention as much or more than well-known authors. Occasionally I’ll be blown away by a famous author and I return to their books again and again. But just often I get excited by a book by someone I’ve never heard of –and it turns out the author is plugging along in midlist like most of us.  I can’t help wondering what it would take for that author to be exalted to fame and fortune. 

Alas, the opposite is also true. I read too many books that are on everyone’s “best of” list, some written by authors with a sterling reputation and I find them to be just okay. Of course I also read books by unknowns that are the same—just okay. Anyway, how does a writer get more attention? (And does it make their career?) 

I recently read a book that was pretty good, had some interesting content, some sections that were intriguing. BUT the book was a hopeless hodgepodge. It hopped from one focus point to another. I spoke with someone else who read it, who said, “meh.” But the book has gotten a lot of attention. Turns out the writer has paid a lot for a publicist. The question? Will the attention carry over to the next book? The author is charming and generous, so maybe…but maybe not. 

I know several wonderful authors who have gone all out to pay for a publicist, spending thousands of dollars personally because most publishers have become stingy with promotion…only to find that all the hype that accompanied the book died as soon as the book was “old news” and the attention did not carry over to their next book. 

So what makes the attention carry over, and result in fame and maybe even a bit of fortune for an author? In some cases, I can’t help thinking this means the book, or author, is well-known because a lot of money was invested in their success. But not always. Sometimes a highly successful author is successful because she writes damn good books. 

Bottom line, t the reading experience is subjective, and sometimes it isn’t just money, but “collective subjectivity” that determines if someone becomes successful. I have a good friend who said she likes my books better than another author who writes a similar series and who is much more successful. Nice to hear, but it would take a lot of people with that response to take me to another level. 

 That being the case, who is to say whether someone “deserves” more attention? All I know is that when I find a book I really like, I holler about it. I tell people in person and on social media. I review the book. Does it make a difference? I have no idea. I doubt, though, that I’ve been responsible for single-handedly turning a midlist author into a shining star. 

As to the second part of the question, what makes someone’s work meaningful to me? Again, it’s subjective—and subjectivity can be influenced by timing. Something I read at one time that seemed brilliant, on rereading may not grab me the same way. Mood, time of life, circumstance, can all converge to make a read “important and meaningful.” 

At the moment I’m reading a book by Peter Robinson. An author doesn’t get much more well-known than Robinson. But what is striking me in this particular book is his way of picking just the right detail to describe the point of view of Banks, his protagonist. I’ve read many of his books, but that never stood out the way it is on this reading. Is that due to my mood? All I know is that I hope this understanding lasts, and that the next time I start a book, I remember the way he lingers on some element of the moment…and does it with beautiful language.

Raising a Glass to Lev A.C. Rosen - by Matthew Greene

Shine a light on another writer. Who's a writer—past or present—you believe deserves more attention? What makes their work meaningful to you, and how has it influenced your own?

When I first heard about The Lavender House by Lev A.C. Rosen, it sounded like it had been grown in a lab specifically for me. Mid-century noir and fabulous matriarchs and queer history and a San Francisco setting? I was sold. 

But I didn’t expect how hard the story would hit me from word one. From the moment I met the tormented protagonist coming to painful terms with his queerness, I recognized myself on the page. It was the type of literary alchemy that reminds us why we read fiction in the first place. Sure, I’m not a private eye, a disgraced former cop, or a former military man. But the humanity of Evander Mills shook loose something deep within me. I recognized his suffering, his redemption, his joy at the prospect of found family. And when I read the following passage, I felt like someone had finally put into words what I’d struggled to articulate for years:

"People are always trying to claim you, without ever listening to who you are. They want you to be something else, to be the role they have for you in the family. But really, we’re all better off just making our own."

And this book is chock-full of gems like that. It explores the gay experience in 1950s America in a way that feels authentic and unflinching…but not devoid of hope. It presents its queer characters without apology, without sanding down their edges. (Most of them are suspects in a murder, after all.) And it gives us in Andy a P.I. unlike any I’d ever read.

And, of course, it contains a kick-ass mystery that kept me guessing until the end. As did the follow-up The Bell in the Fog and my personal favorite Rough Pages. (Are you as troubled as I am by recent book banning efforts? That last one is a hell of a cathartic read.) All three Evander Mills mysteries have been a highlight of my reading year and a frequent recommendation to anyone who will listen. I have no doubt that the forthcoming Mirage City will scratch that same itch and become a favorite as soon as my pre-order comes in.

Beyond this series, Rosen’s work spans genres and audiences and foregrounds LGBTQIA+ stories in a way I clearly admire. But foremost among the praise I could heap on him is my belief that he’s a great storyteller. No matter who picks up one of these books, I have no doubt they’ll be taken in and taken for a ride. 

The Surprising Power of a Good Title by Poppy Gee

The Mysterious Book Shop in New York... floor to ceiling crime novels with different, captivating titles.

BUSINESS: Let’s talk titles.

Do you start with one, or does it emerge organically from your writing process? How important is a title in shaping your project—or even selling it?

On Friday at the Currumbin Crime Writers Festival we heard from a leading publisher and a top literary agent – both estimated that 80% of manuscripts have their titles get changed when they are published. 

Given this, I don’t there is much point in labouring over a clever title.* The working title should be something that inspires you to write, but something that you aren’t too attached to in the event you’re asked to change it.

My debut novel was originally called KELP. It was named after the massive sea gardens of bull kelp that grow in the Southern Ocean. The resilient, brown, leathery plant is attached to rocky reefs by a suction disc. Fronds reach in excess of ten metres, undulating through the cold water, forming a golden canopy just below the surface. I liked the metaphor the kelp presented, of something strong and slick that might drag a person to a fatal end in the depths. My agent thought KELP as a title was not sellable. I used to be a subeditor, writing headlines and captions for a daily newspaper. I like thinking up catchy descriptions, so I sent her a long list of titles, including BAY OF FIRES, the stunning area where my novel was set. We agreed on that, and the publisher liked it too.

My next novel I gave the working title VANISHING FALLS. It’s the name of a real waterfall that falls into a creek, which disappears via subterranean waterways. Farm animals have been known to vanish down the tunnels. It’s not impossible that a human could disappear down there too. This name remained on the published novel.

As a reader, I often choose novels based on the title. Novels I’ve bought recently for the name alone include CAT FIGHT, MONTANA 1948, THE SUMMER WIVES, GOTHICTOWN, WHEN THE RECKONING COMES, WE LIE HERE, THE TOBACCO WIVES, MEMPHIS, CROSS MY HEART. All these titles arouse interest in me. I want to find out what happens or I’m keen to spend time in those worlds.

I learned today that author Benjamin Stevenson thought of his international bestseller title EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY HAS KILLED SOMEONE, then he wrote the novel to suit it. Now he’s got a series with similar titles. Dervla McTiernan wrote a novel to the working title WHAT HAPPENED TO NINA? It summarised the draft she was writing. Her publisher loved it, and it stuck.

I love playing around with different titles. They help me shape the different drafts of my novels. They're the magical spark that compels me to write. Helen of Troy was the face that launched a thousand ships; a good working title is one that will launch thousands of words!

*Confession: I spend far too much time brainstorming perfect titles for this blog. As a former newspaper subeditor, it annoys me how long I take to do this! 

The Railway Adults, by Catriona McPherson

Do you start with a title, or does it emerge organically from your writing process? How important is a title in shaping your project—or even selling it? 

I always start with a title. But sometimes that title is New Book. 

Right now, I'm writing the first draft of a new book called The Railway Adults. But isn't a bit strange to use your book title up on a blogpost, you ask? Thing is, this is my one and only chance to put something out actually called The Railway Adults. Because I will eat my drafts if the publisher keeps it. New Book is better.

Luckily, I'm fine with giving titles up when someone from marketing says "Honey, no." I'm fine with anything on the outside of the book changing - jacket image, cover copy, quotes, bio, author photo. To me that's publishing and I'm not a publisher. It's the bit between Chapter One and The End that I'll go to bat for. 

Less luckily, I've always got a lot of emails and other bumf about the book before it gets its final title. So I've got files and labels called whatever I thought the book was going to be and somehow I never get round to changing them.

So I need to remember Hang My Hat to find correspondence about Scot Free and look for early drafts of Deep Beneath Us under "Hiskith". Yes, Hiskith. Why ever did they change that, eh?

If I want to look back over the publication journey of In Place of Fear, I need to retrieve the information that it was once called A Fountain Filled With Blood, until I remembered that the reason it sounded so perfect for a crime novel was that it was a crime novel, By Julia Spencer-Fleming.

Anyway, that's not my biggest problem with In Place of Fear. I shortened the title to IPOF, then lengthened that to International Pancake of Fear and was once caught like a rabbit in the headlights during an interview, completely unable to remember what it was really called.

The sequel, The Edinburgh Murders, is easier to remember, except that I still call it Next to Godliness, or Janey for short (by way of Janey Godley, you know). 

One title I love and never forget is Strangers at the Gate. It was gifted to me by my editor after she pointed out that someone with my talent for typos couldn't risk bringing out a book called The Cuts.

I grumped for years about my former editor's decree that every book in the Dandy Gilver series was going to be Dandy Gilver and the Dandy Word Crimey Word of Third Word. "Okay" I said, "But I'm not committing to thinking them up." I truly believed her assurances that I wouldn't have to. Huh.

Definitely the most troublesome title was when I had to have a different one for the US and UK. I thought House Tree Person was the perfect name for a psychothriller set in a psychiatric hospital. (The "House Tree Person sketch test" is a now-discredited diagnostic for sociopathy.) Terri Bichoff at Midnight Ink agreed. The editor at Little,Brown UK very didn't. She pitched hard for The Weight of Angels, which I also loved. But in the US, as Terri pointed out, people would think it was about angels. Blank stares from London. Blank stares about the blank stares, from Minneapolis. The Atlantic never felt wider.

Imagine if your patient drew this!

So it's got two different names and I've only ever had one email from someone who accidentally bought it twice. I sent her a free copy of a newer book and she seemed okay. (She was in Arkansas and she knew it wasn't about angels, by the way.)

Cx  

[insert title here]. by Eric Beetner

 Do you start with one, or does it emerge organically from your writing process? How important is a title in shaping your project—or even selling it?

A good title is crucial. A good title is the first come-on. You might hear it before you see a cover, before you know the name of the author, even. I love coming up with titles, and I think long and hard about it. Once I land on a title I like, it’s almost like a green flag to get started writing the actual book. It’s rare I’ll start a book without at least a temporary title, and if I’m not sold on it the whole thing gets off to a shaky start.

I don’t mind wordy titles. I know there is probably some marketing data that links short, punchy and easy to remember titles to book sales, but I also tend to get over-simple generic titles confused once too many books use variations on a theme. Remember how many versions of “Girl” came in the wake of Gone Girl? It got so readers couldn’t tell one from the other. Maybe that was the point, to trick readers into thinking they were buying some best seller they keep hearing about. I’d rather not gain readers by fooling them, personally.

Not that a simple one-word title isn’t perfect for the right book. Titling my own work really comes down to a feel. When I hit on the right vibe, I know it. 

They come from different places and inspirations. I’d heard the phrase “The Devil Doesn’t Want Me” spoken by a 90+ year old man on an NPR show while out walking my dog and I knew instantly that it was the perfect title for the book I was working on. My first title bit the dust right then and there.

Rumrunners seemed to fit my novel about a family of drivers for criminals who started back in the prohibition days. When I filled out that trilogy I kept things thematically and grammatically consistent with the second book, Leadfoot and the third Sideswipe.

Sitting here, looking at my bookshelf, there doesn't seem to be any hard and fast rules to titles. Some are self-explanatory: The Blonde, The Deputy, The Student. Some go for something more evocative: We Are All The Same In The Dark, The Guilt We Carry, The Devil In These Hills.

I’ve always been a fan of classic pulp titles with their lurid come-ons like: Kiss My Fist, Say It With Bullets, You’ll Get Yours. I think in those days a good pulpy title was certainly a selling point, for crime or any other genre. Titles back then told you immediately about the action in a western, the exotic worlds of a Sci-Fi novel or the tantalization in a Romance novel. Titles today may have gotten a little less overt.

In most of my novels, titles come early and stay. I haven’t had pushback from any publishers on titles, thankfully. I’ve even had some say they like my titles quite a lot. I’ve heard that from a good number of readers. I certainly do think a good title invites someone to pick up a book and learn more. 

I know certain sub-genres of crime fiction that I don’t much care for, like political or military thrillers, and one can often tell if a book is in that category from the title. So it works both ways, as an invitation and a warning.

I know some titles are thrust on an author by a publishing house. I’ve heard of authors rolling over and I’ve heard of authors standing up for a title they believe in. But make no mistake, titles are part of writing. It’s the first words of a book than a reader is going to experience, so make them count. A title should never be an afterthought. It should be memorable, evoke the feeling of the book, and set the mood for the story to come.

While writing this I’ve been glancing back at my shelves and marveling again at some of my favorite titles. It’s rare that a good book I love will have a title I don’t care for. Not that it hasn’t happened, but I’m noticing it’s not very often.

I leave you with some of my favorites from my shelf which all happen to have full books as good as the titles.

Where All Light Tends To Go

The Second Life Of Nick Mason

The Wolf Wants In

Nothing More Dangerous

The Terror Of Living

All The Earth, Thrown To The Sky

Nothing Short Of Dying

Three Graves Full

Some Die Nameless

This Dark Road To Mercy

Whiskey When We’re Dry

Everybody Smokes In Hell

Last Call For The Living

Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned

Lets Talk Titles

 

Let’s Talk Titles

Do you start with one, or does it emerge organically from your writing process? How important is a title in shaping your project—or even selling it?

I’ve had titles arrive fully formed, like a gift from the muse, and others fight me all the way to final edits. And even then, I’m still second-guessing.

But let’s back up.

Take my story “Satan’s Spit,” nominated this year for an Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity. Sounds dramatic, maybe even dangerous, right?

The inspiration?

A meme about a bottle of Mercurochrome — that flaming red antiseptic from hell that haunted medicine cabinets in the ’70s, was repurposed as Satan’s Spit in a graphic online. I laughed. Then cringed. I can still feel the demonic sting. I remembered my grandmother asking, “Do you know how to dance?” before she dabbed it on my raw elbow.

Her question, that bottle, that pain? That’s how I ended up writing a Depression-era crime story involving blues music, a young girl passing as a boy to survive — and a murder. The title had to be Satan’s Spit. Nothing else burned quite right.

Sometimes a title comes first, and the story spins around it. Other times, it creeps in later.

Let me show you what I mean.

 

SHANE CLEARY MYSTERIES

1. Dirty Old Town is the first Shane Cleary mystery, set in 1970s Boston, when the city was gritty, polluted, and violent. I thought of the busing crisis, the Pogues, the Dropkick Murphys. The music gave me the mood — and the mood gave me the title.

2. Symphony Road

Named after the actual Boston street where a string of suspicious fires broke out. The novel’s about arson-for-profit. Sometimes the setting is the title.

3. Hush Hush

A mix of fact and fiction: I borrowed from Hush-Hush, the scandal rag in L.A. Confidential, and wove in the real-life murder of Andrew Puopolo and the legal fallout. Gossip, power, and justice — all in a whisper.

4. Liar’s Dice

Yes, it’s a dice game where deception is strategy, but it’s also a metaphor for every bad decision in the book.

5. The Big Lie

A tip of the fedora to Chandler’s The Big Sleep, but also a meditation on lies.

Got a ballot? This one’s been nominated for both an Anthony and a Shamus this year.

 

THE COMPANY FILES

1. The Good Man

Set in post-WWII Vienna. The title asks a question: Can you be a good man and still work for the Company, especially when your job is recruiting ex-Nazis to beat the Soviets? The Third Man and Vienna cast a long shadow here, but I wanted to show how moral ambiguity wasn’t just noir—it was U.S. policy.

2. The Naming Game

It’s McCarthy, the Red Scare, and writing for a movie studio. Who’s loyal? Who’s naming names? And who’s playing along to survive?

3. Devil’s Music

This one tormented me. I started with Diminished Fifth — a nod to both classical music theory and Lillian Hellman clever use of the Fifth Amendment. But it was too obscure, so I went full metal: think Black Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath,” inspired by Holst’s “Mars, the Bringer of War.” The two pieces of music are built around a tritone, aka diabolus in musica.

4. Eyes to Deceit (Coming November, fingers crossed)

This one fought me hard. It’s about the joint CIA/MI6 coup in Iran, 1953 — a geopolitical web of intrigue around oil, lies, and betrayal. With a subplot set in the Borscht Belt, no less. I had a dozen working titles. Some too dry, some too dramatic. I finally landed here. And it stuck.

So… How Important Is a Title?

It’s not everything. But it sure helps.

A good title sets the tone, signals the genre, and sometimes it’s lure a reader. Sometimes, it’s the one thing a reader remembers months later.

Just make sure it doesn’t sound like a lost IKEA product. (Diminished Fifth, I’m looking at you.)

So yes, titles matter. But if all else fails?

Find a weird childhood memory, or a grandmother with a sense of humor.

The story — and the title — will find you.

A Rose by Any Other Name, By Angela Crook

 

Title: A Rose by Any Other Name…

 By Angela Crook

Do you start with one, or does it emerge organically from your writing process? How important is a title in shaping your project—or even selling it?

 

The title is the second most important thing in my writing process. The first us the the emergence of the main character—protagonist or antagonist, doesn’t matter. I find that I can’t write a word until that main character walks onto the stage that is my brain and introduces themselves and tells me their story.

 

Even as the story is forming so too is the title. Kinda like giving birth, out comes the baby and very soon after we label it. Occasionally the label/title may come first, but never before the conception of the story. That’s my process. Is it weird? I don’t know, but I know the one time I’ve tried to write a story without a definite title has been hell and I’ll never do it again.

 

Why is that, you may wonder. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it over the past year and I think that for me a title means the idea or story is fully baked and ready to go. It’s like my writing brain has done all the pre-work and delivered this thing to me with clear instructions on where to go leaving me with the beautiful job of filling in the blanks that will maneuver me through all the twist and turns that will pop up. Yep, just like parenthood.

 

Writing without a title feels like I skipped a crucial step. The story doesn’t feel quite right or ready. Ever bit into a piece of chicken after taking it from the grill and seeing the telltale pink that says, not quite ready yet. Or pulled cake from the oven just a bit too early, if meat isn’t your thing. That’s me when trying to write without a title firmly in place.

 

This isn’t to say that it can’t be done. Sure, it can. But the road ahead feels a lot rockier, at least for this writer. Now, I’m sure there are plenty of writers who would read this and scratch their heads having no idea what I’m blathering on about. And maybe they’re right. Especially since we all know that it is foolhardy to become attached to a title when your publisher could be waiting to get their hands on it and change it without any regard for the work that went into naming your book baby.

 

Let’s be honest though. No method is 100%. The first book I published started out being called Fat Girl, slowly over time it evolved into Fat Chance, a decision I made on my own without any poking, prodding, or threats from any other party. As the story evolved, naturally the title did too. I’m guessing I’m not the only writer who has had this experience. It happened again with my first traditionally published novel, which started as Hurt Farm, but became Hurt Mountain in the end. A change that caused me some anxiety in the beginning. Until I heard that whisper from my characters that said, yes, this is alright.

 

To start with a title or not, that is the question. I think we all know where I stand. What about you?

Learning to self-edit - by Harini Nagendra

Choose a block of your writing—past or present—and walk us through its revision journey. What worked? What didn’t? What did you learn in the process? 

Perhaps the most important thing I've learnt over the 4 books that constitute my fiction-writing journey, is how to self-edit out my tendency to insert large infodumps of history, culture and setting into my books. Instead, I now slice the historical and setting details into chunks, and try to find places where I can insert them into different parts of the story in a way that seems natural, and helps to advance the plot, or illustrate something about my main characters - so that my readers imbibe information without feeling bored, or like they're in a classroom listening to a lecture. 

The best illustration I can think of is this passage below, from the original draft of The Bangalore Detectives Club. Here's a paragraph from the original version I sold, which my editors then took up 

Uma aunty’s home reminded Kaveri of her maternal home in Mysore. Much smaller than Ramu’s, it was set in a smaller plot, fifty feet by ninety feet. In contrast, Ramu’s home – her home now, as Kaveri reminded herself – was set in a one acre plot. A cream and white masonry building with red accents around the windows and at the border of the doors, the home was framed by an elegant bungalow, with bay windows framed with monkey tops that enabled a view of the garden. The short curved driveway ended in a portico, bordering a lush garden, where Bhargavi assiduously nurtured roses, lilies and orchids. At the back, a large kitchen garden with curry leaves, tomato, green chillies and turmeric was surrounded by fruit trees of over twenty varieties, including jackfruit, mango, jamun, tamarind, figs, guava, custard apple, coconut and banana, as well as some “English” fruit trees like avocado and breadfruit that Ramu’s father had convinced his mother to plant. A gardener came in every day for a couple of hours, chivvied around by her mother-in-law, for whom the garden was a prized possession, as dear as another child of her own. Kaveri did not know much about gardening – her home, like Uma aunty’s, was small and had space for only a tiny kitchen garden, with the obligatory tulasi, jasmine, Nandi battalu and karubevu plants that most Hindu homes contained. She liked the sprawling garden, despite the monkeys it attracted, and was slowly getting to learn the intricacies of the care each of the various varieties of trees and plants required. 

As you can see, this is an - ahem - overly ecological paragraph, inserted right in the middle of a mystery. My editor very rightly pointed this out to me, saying

Wow – this is a stunning description of the local wildlife, but sadly I do think this is one of those overly long descriptive sections that could do with being cut down slightly.

She was absolutely correct. I wanted to weave in the descriptions of garden plants into the story, but needed to find another way to do this - rather than a massive ecological infodump. 

I reworked the entire book rather extensively, changing the plot and the murderer - and ended up deleting the paragraph entirely. But I found other scenes where I could weave in descriptions of greenery, such as the one below. In this, I situate an interaction between my main protagonists in the garden to illustrate the growing closeness between Kaveri, and her husband from an arranged marriage, Ramu.

Kaveri was resting her sore feet in a bucket of hot water, when she heard the gate open. Ramu had come home early. She tried to jump out, but her sari got caught in the bucket. By the time she disentangled herself from the bucket, and stepped out, Ramu was in the compound, alighting from the car. He turned to her, impassive as ever, though she saw the sides of his mouth twitching. Kaveri murmured a hasty apology as she fled to the garden, with the bucket in tow. Just as she reached the papaya plant, Ramu called “Careful, Kaveri. Don’t cook the papaya plant. The water must be hot.”

She could definitely see his face twitching. Kaveri gave up, and began to laugh, wringing the moisture from the folds of her sari at her feet. Ramu smiled back, asking her “Did you sprain your leg?”

“It’s a long story” replied Kaveri. “Let me get you your coffee and then I can tell you the details.”

Ramu sniffed as he entered the house. The drawing room was filled with the aroma of rich, roasted curry leaves. “Have you been cooking?” he asked. “Yes. Rajamma told me how to make a different kind of rice pudi. The powder that your mother made, for us to eat with ghee and rice, is almost over and I wanted to try something different. We picked curry leaves and leaves of the lemon plant from our garden, and made a pudi with roasted togaribele.” 

I also inserted this section later in the book, to describe Narsamma and Mala's garden - using it to illustrate the caste divides that were a sadly common feature of society.

Narsamma got up and gestured to them. They followed her to the back of the house, past a dark corridor, and entered the back garden. The kitchen garden at the back was very different from the sumptuous, lush bower in the front. Here, the layout was prosaic, as befitting a frugal housewife. Banana and papaya plants, weighed down with fruit, neatly lined the compound wall. In the corner, a drumstick tree stood tall, pods hanging from it. A vegetable patch was in a corner, next to a karabevu tree.

Mala hailed them as they left. She passed over a bundle of drumstick pods, neatly tied with twine, to each woman.

“From my garden”, she said shyly. And hesitated.

“Plants have no caste or community. I hope you can accept this.”

By the time I got to writing book 4 in the series, Into the Leopard's Den, I had become more comfortable with using this approach. This book is the most ecological of my mysteries, and the history of forests, coffee and wildlife in Coorg is too fascinating for me to leave out - but I've learnt how to do this without brandishing a textbook in my readers' faces!