Shelf Help

by Chris F. Holm

I think Reece nailed this week's question in his post on Monday. (I suggest you check out his post, and while you're at it congratulate him on his new book deal!) Pretty much the only stuff I won't read while I'm writing is anything that plays in the same sandbox. For my Collector series, which straddles the line between old-fashioned noir and the creepier side of fantasy, that means waiting until between books to read Charlie Huston's Joe Pitt series, Neil Gaiman's grown-up fiction, or anything by Stephen Blackmoore or Tim Powers, to name but a few. I also, for the record, had to quit watching Supernatural when they started getting all biblical on me. The last thing I wanted was to get called out for ripping off somebody who simply happened down a similar narrative path.

That said, there are a host of authors whose books I often pluck from the shelf when I need a literary shot in the arm to kick my writing into gear. Hammett, for his grit. Chandler, for his poetry. Block (particularly his Scudder novels), for his raw emotion. Westlake (writing as Stark), for his spare, pitch-black perfection. And of course Dante (with a little help in my edition from Messrs. Longfellow and Dore), for bringing hell to terrifying life in much the way I hope to for my poor, damned Sam.

Sometimes, I'll read 'em clean through while I write, but just as often, I'll simply grab one and read a passage or two at random before I sit down at the keyboard. I'd recommend you try it sometime with your great literary inspirations; you'll be surprised how much it serves to fuel your own creativity, and inform your day's writing. And heck, even if it doesn't, at least you got to read some pretty sentences.

On Writing While Reading

Question - Whose work can you not read while reading your own?

Answer - Gillian Flynn.

I read Gone Girl a few weeks ago, and it's worth the hype. The book had me in its grip, dreaming its fictive dream, from the opening line to the very last page. (Like many others, I did not love the ending, but I respect its poetic logic.)

The problem: the protagonist, Amy, has a lot in common with the main character in my own work in progress.

Some writers can't read any fiction while writing, but that's not me. I can easily read books I love—even writers whose craft I want to emulate or learn from. I dissect the novel while I read, figure out which elements I can incorporate into my own writing, and often expand my work in progress as a result of a hugely enjoyable read.

After reading Chevy Stevens' Never Knowing, I was so impressed by how she made me sympathize with her bad guy that I emailed her demanding to know her secrets. (She's lovely; she actually responded with some tricks of her tradecraft.) But I could still write.

But ever since Gone Girl, I cannot get Amy out of my head. Which is particularly frustrating when I'm in Megan's head and I hear her talking in Amy's voice rather than her own.

Since I'm not willing to stop writing, and I refuse to admit defeat and change my own protagonist, here's what I do: when Amy creeps in, I take a hard look at Megan and note all the ways that they're different.

Yes, they're both high-strung, intense, wealthy Manhattanites. They both like nice clothes. They're both brilliant. But Amy is warm on the outside and cold and cruel inside. Megan is the opposite: cold outside; warm in. Amy is confident, Megan insecure. Amy's a writer; Megan's a scientist.

And focusing on their differences, I'm managing to push this character forward.

Still, I'll finish writing the first draft of this manuscript before I dive into Flynn's Sharp Objects.

Thanks so much to Hilary Davidson for inviting me to join this funky cast of characters at 7 Criminal Minds. I look forward to biweekly blogging here.

To Read or Not to Read

By Reece Hirsch

The only books that I will not read while I’m writing are the books that I don’t trust myself not to steal from.  By that, I mean books that deal with the same subculture, place or specific type of story that I’m writing.  For example, about half of my current work-in-progress is set in another country.  There are several mystery and crime writers who have placed their stories in that part of the world, and a few them are on my To Be Read list, but I must stay away until this book is done.

If I were to read one of those books, I’m afraid that every plot twist and bit of local color would force me to say, “No, I can’t do that.  I have to go in a different direction.”  I would find myself trying to reverse-engineer a book that was as different as possible from those others.  Writing is difficult enough without that added level of stress.  If I end up employing some similar plot devices or settings, then at least I will have come by them honestly.

I’ve heard some writers say that they don’t like to read truly great writing while they’re working because it's too intimidating.  I understand that point of view, but I don’t share it.  There is something therapeutic about reading a solidly entertaining, craftsmanlike book where you think you understand the writer’s choices and how they could be improved upon.  Sometimes you do learn more from a book’s flaws than from its strengths.

On the other hand, a great book or bit of writing is a mystery, a magic trick that never gives away its secret.  I will never be able to fully understand where these things come from:

*  Cormac McCarthy’s bloody, incantatory Old Testament grandeur;

*  Raymond Chandler's similes;

*  Richard Price's dialogue, particularly when it's being spoken by his cops;

*  Kate Atkinson’s balance between jigsaw-puzzle plotting and complex characterization in Case Histories; and

*  Dehane Lehane’s ability to do so many things at once and superbly in Mystic River.

The only explanation is that these things come from singular talents writing at the top of their game.  Every miraculous, surprising sentence that I read reminds me that I can do better.  I may never be able to get my head around these particular magic tricks to the extent that I could replicate them, but what would be the point in that, anyway?  Reading these writers reminds me that magic is still possible, no matter how humble my attempts to summon it.

Note:  Over the past year or two, more than a few people have asked me, “Where the hell’s your next book?”  Sometimes, and this is particularly true when speaking to other writers, I could sense them delicately refraining from asking the question.  As one writer friend of mine put it, it’s kind of like asking a woman if she’s pregnant.

Well, I'm happy to report that I finally have an answer to the question.  I recently signed a three-book deal with Thomas & Mercer to write a series of thrillers as part of Amazon’s Kindle Serials program.  The books will feature Chris Bruen, a former Department of Justice cybercrimes prosecutor who is now in private practice combating hackers and cybercriminals on behalf of his clients.  THE ADVERSARY, the first book in the series, will begin appearing in installments later this summer.  Being published in serialized form should be fun, and I'll have more to say about that later.

The Word Machine

  
Despite some years devoted to imbibing various concoctions before bed so I could dream clever attributes about my characters and envision twisty plots, from hot toddy, whisky neat to Chamomile tea, the scenarios would not unfold across the landscape of my sub-conscious.  But I now have a shiny new goal to dream about.  This fall in San Antonio they’re opening the first bookless library as part of the state’s ongoing BiblioTech effort.
 
From the press release: “The $1.5 million facility in Bexar County will not house a single printed book, but will offer 100 e-readers on loan, and 10,000 digital titles accessible to readers via their home computers and digital devices, with more being added regularly.”
 
I dream then of flying to San Antonio, the plane partially flown on auto-pilot.  The instructions having been texted to me on my iPhone, I call and summon my robot car like the ones Google has been experimenting with these last few years.  The car arrives, a Cadillac CTS with a number by jazz guitarist Wes Montgomery bumping softly on the sound system.  The driverless car whisks me off without incident to the bookless library.
 
Inside are people, real people, not cutouts or beamed in via closed circuit – though maybe a few are in “attendance” like that.  We chat some.  The librarian, who is also trained in keeping the machines running, introduces me. 
I give my talk about my recent novel, an ebook exclusive, a decades spanning mystery of conspiracy and double dealing and masked vigilantes.  There’s laughter in the right parts and a lively Q & A post the presentation.  I see fingers moving across e-reader devices and I sing their e-reader cases.  Later, checking my account on my IPhone, I see that there’s been a respectable up tick in my ebook sales.
 
Sweet. 
 
I have a sip or two of whisky neat later in my hotel room, the doors of it zipping open and closed like they do in Star Trek’s Enterprise.  As I drift off to sleep, soon I’m dreaming of building an android to take my dictation of stories.  The robot will begin thinking like me as this process goes on.  At some point, I’ll just have to give her, as I’ll have designed my personal simulacrum, to look like a combination of Beyoncé and JLo, she’ll be able to write like me, with me supplying the outlines.
 
In the dream I sleep too.  When I wake, my mind has been transported into a Kindle.  N this way I project my stories like someone standing behind a large frosted glass and writing the words backwards with a marker...my thoughts the words that appear onscreen to the reader.
 
I have eliminated the middleman.  I am the machine of words.  

I’m No Dreamweaver

by Alan

Do you ever dream about your characters? Or other people’s?

To the best of my recollection, I have never dreamed about my characters. Nor about anyone else’s characters.

Most of the people populating my dreams are real—family members, friends, people I’ve met, people I’ve seen in movies or on TV (the actors, not the characters they play, weirdly).

Some people like to analyze dreams, putting a lot of stock in what they mean. I’m not one of those people. I believe that dreams are simply a way for my subconscious to blow off a little steam (or a lot of steam, depending on the dream). I don’t think I’d make a very good subject for a psychology experiment.

That’s not to say that my nighttime slumbering isn’t ever productive. Sometimes I will cadge a bit of dialogue from a dream and try to work it into something I’m writing. Like Tracy described in her post yesterday, I’ll wake up, scribble a few ephemeral snatches of something witty or clever on a piece of paper on my nightstand. In the morning, I’m disappointed when it reads, “Mfxxth Strxtmet. WACHNRVPQ!”

Also, on occasion, I’ll get an idea in the middle of the night. When I was at Sleuthfest last year, I woke up one morning at 4 a.m. with a mostly-fully-formed concept for a thriller with a dynamite premise.

Maybe I should take a nap now. I could use another great idea!

I Like Dreaming…Just Not the Results

 By Tracy Kiely

First of all, can I just say that after Vicki’s BRILLIANT blog yesterday, I think we need to shut this question down for the rest of the week. You simply can’t compete with that kind of awesomeness.

Have I ever dreamt about my characters? Um…like Vicki, I have to say “no.”

Now, that’s not to say I haven’t had dreams – vivid dreams – after which I’ve woken up and thought “Holy God! That’s it! That’s the best GD plot I’ve ever heard of! It’s perfect!!” Remember how Stephanie Myer of Twilight fame (and fortune) said that the scene in which Edward reveals his shiny diamond face in the meadow all came from a dream? Well, I’ve had dreams like that. Only way better because there were no vampires and werewolves running around killing each other. (Seriously, this chick makes me wonder about the effects of all that healthy Mormon living. Who, after the age of ten, has dreams like that?  That’s an “I-ate-four-bags-of-chips-and-three-hot-dogs-kind-of-dream.” But then again, she’s the one laughing as she walks her healthy, radical-free body to the bank.)

 Anyway, many times I’ve reached over to my nightstand, grabbed my notebook, and written the dream down, before happily falling back to sleep confident in my amazing imagination and perfect story.  On a few occasions, I’ve actually tried to “jump back” into the dream – that’s how good they were.  Unfortunately, in the morning this is what I usually find:

“Man is running fast because the lady he met on train is bad and has the djfdkjf (illegible word). The people know this and will find him unless he gets to the subway. People can fly.”

or:

“The murderer is still alive and the police think it’s the woman who has the purse. No one knows where it is.”

or:

“It was the barking dog – not the cat.”

I have since stopped leaving a notebook by my bed. Not because I’ve given up on my dreams ever producing a kickass story, but because they are building an assisted living facility down the road from us and I don’t want my notebook to be used as exhibit A in the competency hearing.

So, God bless you Stephanie Meyer. You are a rare bird indeed. As for me, I think I have the Avian flu.

Dreaming, dreaming...

Do you ever dream about your characters? Or other people’s?

By Vicki Delany

NO

Thus ends my blog post for today. 

Dreaming your way to a story

Do you ever dream about your characters? Or other people’s?

by Meredith Cole

Dreams can be such a valuable part of the creative process, but dreams can also be elusive, abstract and not particularly useful. I read once about a writer who, when she's stuck on a problem, wrote a question down on a piece of paper and put it under her pillow. In the morning she always had the answer to her question. One time I was desperate enough to try it. It didn't work for me. Maybe my question was too big (how do I fix this story so it works?!!) or maybe my brain just wasn't ready to spit out an answer. Who knows.

I have dreamed amazing stories before. I fumbled with my journal in my haste to write them down in all their vivid detail. In one movie-like dream, I rescued my little brother from a concentration camp while riding a motorcycle. I even tried to write one of my dreams into a screenplay once.  I vaguely remember that there was someone on a ship with lots of animals--and this was before Life of Pi. The only problem was that the story made no sense to anyone but me, and by making it make sense it lost the wonder and delight of the vivid dreamscape it emerged from originally.

Have I dreamed about my characters? I'm sure that I have. I dream about every little thing that happens to me--sometimes things that happened to me years and years ago. I just rarely remember the dreams when I wake up. I do know that my creativity is always better in the morning so maybe I have occasionally dreamed my way to a story fix in the night. Sure sounds better than tearing your hair out over the keyboard to make a plot point work or to fix a glitch in your story.

So--have you dreamed about your characters? And do they ever come bringing plot fixes?

Obstacle Not Barrier

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

 

Like many writers, I have a full-time day job. But here’s the thing. Even though I really enjoy my job as a corporate paralegal and work for a wonderful law firm with lovely people, I’d give my left nut (providing I had one to give) to leave it behind and throw myself into my writing full time, all the time.  And the older I get, the more I’m willing to give up those phantom nuts to make it happen.

 

Whenever folks ask me why I don’t quit my day to  write full time, my pat and honest answer is: Because I like to eat and have a roof over my head. And let’s not forget health care benefits and a 401k.  I’m single, my sole support, and no one has ever left me money, except for when I was a waitress in a pizza joint, and even then the tips were either stingy or stolen by the other waitresses. I make money writing, but not enough to support myself.

 

This past weekend someone introduced me as one of the most prolific writers they know. And it’s true, I am prolific. Basically, I write two novels a year – one a year for two different publishers – as well as the occasional novella and short story, all while holding down a day job. And I research, write, and rewrite every damn word myself. I also do most of my own PR and marketing. This is one of the reasons you don’t find me at many conferences or on the road doing book tours. 

But no applause or gasps of awe, please, because I am not alone. Most of the published writers I know also hold down day jobs. It's the norm, not the exception.

 

Warning, rant alert! 

 

It really annoys me when budding writers tell me they don’t have time to write. Then guess what? You don’t want it bad enough. It’s not a goal that burns in your belly. It’s a “maybe one day” kind of thing with them. And we all know “maybe one day” dreams don’t usually come to fruition. They wither and die on the vine, forgotten until it's too late. 

 

I know writers with kids who write during nap time or while waiting in car pool lanes. Writers who sneak out to their cars to write on lunch break. Writers who write long after their household is in bed. Writers who write while their friends and family are out having fun. They get the job done, no matter what stands in their way.

 

The drive to write is primal if you’re a born writer. Looming deadlines just crank it up a few notches.  Even if I didn’t have contracts waiting to be fulfilled, I’d still be writing like a monkey on crack. It’s who I am. It's what I want. The day job is just an obstacle to hoist my fat ass over, not an insurmountable barrier keeping me from the finish line.

 

I’ve been at my current paralegal position 8 years next week. During that time  I have written 14 novels, 1 novella and 6 short stories, and no, none have been written on the job. I get up between 5 and 5:30 each day, spend 20 minutes taking care of various chores, then I’m at the keyboard writing until it's time to shower and go to my day job. During the week I write 2-3 hours a day. On weekends that time is at least doubled. Is it any wonder my home has an abandoned look and my eyes are glassy. Yet I still have time to go out with friends and relax in front of TV. It’s all in how you prioritize and plan and how much you want it.

 

Since benefactors and sponsors are not beating on my door, and since no one seems interested in purchasing my fictional left nut, and since I just entered my 60s, my plan is to retire in a few years and turn my full attention to my writing, providing my brain isn’t fried. 

I hope I won’t be bored.

Catriona McPherson: Private Eye

I'm the wrong person to ask about day jobs because I've so rarely had a day job I either a. liked or b. was any good at.  For sure, I've never had a day job that c. was going to make my fortune.

I tried banking.  Hah.  Fifty-pound-notes got bundled into hundreds.  Which was four notes, right?  After they searched my bag and and my pockets and recounted my stash and looked down the back of the couch, a very honest wages clerk came back to the bank and returned the extra.

I tried being a university lecturer.  Hah.  I was one of four lonely linguists in an English literature department, teaching phonetics and syntax to kids who wanted to learn Jack Kerouac.  When one of my colleagues asked me what I read for pleasure I said I only read the TV Guide to see what time Star Trek was on.  I forgot to wink; he believed me; I was the talk of the senior common room.

I worked in a pub serving food but my portion control was non-existent and just before the place went bankrupt I was demoted to cleaning.

I worked in the Fine Art and Local History departments of Edinburgh City Library.  That, I loved.  That, I could do.  That, was between university courses.

So giving up a full-time day job in 2000 to try this writing lark wasn't as difficult a decision as it might have been.  I did part-time tutoring to make some money and also had a number in my head: if I ever got an advance of *this* amount, I said to myself, I'd give up even the tutoring and write really full-time.  That took five years and it was scary when it came.

This is year thirteen of writing stories and I feel as if I'm just about to get a day-job again in a funny kind of way, because I'm about to start renting an office in town and going back to having a commute instead of working in my house.  It'll be a big change - no more jammies, no more leftovers for lunch, no more chats with Joe the UPS guy . . .

My one regret is that my office doesn't have a half-window of bumpy glass on which I can put my name in gold paint like Philip Marlowe.  That would have been something.  But learning to smoke those unfiltered cigarettes might have been tough and a raincoat and fedora in this climate would have killed me.

Oh and also:  AS SHE LEFT IT comes out on Saturday.  Yeay!

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Rules

By Tracy Kiely

Despite numerous books to the contrary, there are no hard and fast set of rules that writers must follow to be successful. What works for you, might not work for me. Don’t believe me? Just ask Stephen King. That man has broken nearly every publishing “rule” over the years and has grown ridiculously rich while doing it. Here are just a few “rules” that he’s smashed over the course of his career:

• Don’t change Point Of View (see The Stand)
• Don’t write drunk/high (see just about all of his work from the Eighties)  
• Don’t self-publish on the internet (see UR)

Devoting yourself full-time to writing is just another “rule” that is up for interpretation (and another one that King “broke” early in his career by working as a teacher). So that said, I’ve compiled my own list of pros and cons for this particular "rule" to help you make the choice that is right for you. Feel free to add your own! 

 

Pros for day job:

• For mystery writers work environment provides numerous opportunities to interact with people who inspire murder
• Provides reason to buy nice clothes
• Free cake randomly given for singing unenthusiastic rendition of Happy Birthday
• No TV to call you away from your work, “Hey, Tracy! Hoarders is on! And you won’t believe the crap that this lady keeps!”
• Usually someone always brings in munchkins
• For those days when writer’s block has you by the throat, you can focus on your day job without guilt

Pros for full-time writer:

• You don’t have to deal with crazy bosses/co-workers
• You can excuse being seen at the supermarket wearing clothes normally found on participants of What Not To Wear by explaining how you got caught up in a lengthy call with your agent. 
• Don’t have to sing Happy Birthday at random times during the day to co-workers you barely know
• Hoarders is on!
• Joy of being able to sit all day at your desk doing what you love

Of course, there are more reasons. There always are. Tell me yours!

Moonlighting

by Chris F. Holm

I'm not sure I'm qualified to answer this week's question. I can't compare the pleasures and pitfalls of writing full-time to those of writing part-time, because I've never been a full-time writer.

That's right, aspiring writers, it's reality-check time: I've got two books out, and a third following in a matter of weeks, and I still have a day job.

I can't complain. It keeps the light on. The fridge stocked. Thanks to the day job, my teeth won't fall out of my head, and if God forbid I step off the curb tomorrow and get run over by a bus, my medical bills will be (mostly) taken care of. That ain't always a given for full-time writers. (Nor, it should be noted, is it true for a lot of people who bust ass for a paycheck eighty hours a week, but that's a topic for another time, or perhaps for a letter to your congressperson.)

As for the downside... you ever hear about the frog and the pot of boiling water? Apparently, if you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water, he'll try to hop back out. But if you put a frog in a pot of cold water and then heat it to boiling, he'll stay put until he cooks. It seems frogs are unable to sense the gradual increase in temperature until it's too late. (I haven't tested this, for obvious reasons, and I couldn't bear the thought of Googling to find out if it's apocryphal or not. I'd like to continue believing it's made-up. Either way, suffice to say it's not easy being green.)

Writing while holding down a day job is like that. At first, it's no big thing: a couple hours on the weekends here and there. Then you make a short-story sale or two, and get a little busier. If you're very lucky, you land an agent and/or sell a novel, and you get busier still. Next thing you know, you're two books into a series and you've got six months to write the third, while also hitting up a convention or four, trying to sell a second series you've been noodling at in your spare (ha!) time, and oh yeah work family holidays eating sleeping when's the last time anybody cleaned this place I think that pizza box is moving AND OH DEAR LORD WE'RE OUT OF WINE .

Sorry. That got away from me a little. But you get the point.

Don't get me wrong: I signed on for this life, and I don't regret a second of it. That said, if any modern-day Medicis are reading this and feel like cutting a check so I can focus on my writing, shoot me an email and we'll talk...

Too Lazy to Work, Too Nervous to Steal

By Hilary Davidson

This month marks the fifteenth anniversary of my career as a full-time writer. I still remember how nervous I was when I started out. I wasn't sure if I'd have a roof over my head for long, though I was reasonably certain I'd be able to eat, given that the first regular gig I lined up was a restaurant-reviewing  for Toronto Life magazine. A couple of years after I quit the day job, I came across a book about freelance writing called Too Lazy to Work, Too Nervous to Steal. I realized that summed up my attitude towards the whole enterprise, and it still does.

Even after all this time, I still can't believe I'm lucky enough to have a job that allows me to explore the things I'm curious about (if you know me, you know that's a long, eclectic list). Even better, it's evolved to become a job where I get to play with my imaginary friends, since I now spend most of my time writing fiction.

That's not to say that freelancing doesn't have its frustrations. When I'm chasing down a deadbeat client — or when a client's check bounces —I feel envious towards people who don't have to scramble after cash they've already earned. But those days are few and far between.

The very best thing about writing is that it's introduced me to so many amazing people. The toughest adjustment for me, when I started writing full-time, was that I was at home, alone, with no coworkers to chat with or to bounce ideas off. When I'm writing, I'm a solitary creature, but the rest of the time, I'm a social animal. Ironically, writing full-time forced me to join organizations and go to conferences to meet my peers. That habit has served me well with crime writing. My social circle broadened in ways I never imagined, and I'm grateful for it.

*

This is my last post as a regular member of Criminal Minds. I'd like to thank my fantastic blogmates, past and present, for being such a fine, fun crew. I'll be back to guest-post from time to time, and if you want to find me online, that's not hard to do. You can drop by my website, my personal blog, my gluten-free blog, my newsletter, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest... it's kind of hard to hide from me online, truth be told. See you around!

Should I, Should I Not?

I'm delighted to welcome to Criminal Minds this week Susan Shea, a friend and a wonderful mystery writer.  Susan C. Shea moved from an early career in journalism to a second one as an executive and then head of her own consulting practice.  She ran marketing, fundraising, and communications programs for a variety of prestigious organizations, picking up good stories along the way.  In 2006, she made the break she had been dreaming of, quitting her day job to write fiction full time as a third career.  She's a member of the board of the northern California Sisters in Crime, and a past board member of Norcal's Mystery Writers of America.  Susan's a transplanted New Yorker, and a lover of exotic places, fine art, great food, and sparkling events—just like Dani O'Rourke, her series protagonist.  She lives in Marin County, California.  You can visit Susan's website at www.susancshea.com.

Susan's new Dani O'Rourke mystery, The King's Jar, is getting glowing reviews.  Kirkus Reviews call it, "[w]ickedly funny" (and we know how picky they are).  Library Journal says, "This San Francisco–based cozy is fresh, fast-paced, and great fun. Shea's characters' professional and personal foibles are done especially well." 

By Susan C. Shea

It took me five years and three writers’ conferences to write five chapters of my first book while I worked as an exec in higher education. Then, with the love and support of my S.O., I quit my day job. It took me five months to finish the book, which became Murder in the Abstract.

The pros of keeping your day job are easy. You won't have to sleep on the street, you can feed all the hungry mouths in your nest, and you’ll be able to buy designer jeans with holes in the knees that make it look as if you were sleeping on the street. When someone asks you what you do, you’ll have an answer that makes both you and the asker comfortable, that puts you in a safe, predictable niche. Unless, of course, your day job is wringing chicken’s necks or serving as O.J. Simpson’s newest lawyer. Either of those two jobs might give you some great ideas for a thriller, however, so that’s another plus.

There are tradeoffs for those designer jeans. You’ll have to get up at four a.m. or stay up until four a.m. to find the time to write your three-hundred page book. Alternatively, you’ll have to do what a fine, published writer said she managed for years: Go out to her car for thirty minutes at lunchtime and write. Every day, rain, sleet, or hot sun, sitting cramped in the car. Not so much fun.

If you have a job, as I did, that includes schmoozing at odd hours and the need to write persuasive, even manipulative, memos and reports, the time suck is enormous and – worse – you have to shrug off the style of writing so familiar in business when you turn to your manuscript. Your protagonist can’t leap into a room, gun held smartly in front of her at shoulder height like a cop in “The Wire,” and shout, “There is a plethora of good reasons why you should consider complying with my proposal to relinquish this course of action.”

I can’t complain about having had to work for many years. It gave me a chance to save my pennies, and to practice the fine art of getting the first chapter right. It overloaded me with ideas for characters, settings, story lines, and potential victims. (I’m still searching for just the right way to kill an I.T. guy I knew…) There were those conferences, where I met other struggling first-time writers, listened to great authors tell us they had started right where we had, and worked up my courage for the ultimate step off the cliff.

Some superb writers never do quit their day jobs. They have managed to avoid the worst of the drawbacks or to barrel right past them with their talent and drive. They publish lots of books, win awards, and dazzle readers. I’m afraid I’d still be stumping through the revisions of the first book instead of celebrating the publication of the second and tearing my hair over the revisions for the third.

Speaking of that second book, The King’s Jar, which was published May 1, I’m offering a signed copy here to a commenter chosen randomly from those posted before midnight June 9th. Good luck.