On Tuesday, I got an email that many writer’s dread.
The copy department wants a synopsis.
This is particularly dire when you, the author, DID actually send in a (very) brief synopsis weeks ago. They want more.
This doesn’t surprise me because I only sent them one long paragraph that I wrote as if it were back cover copy, with a few more details. I know there are formulas that people use, and I can write a log line, and I can put together the premise and backstory very easily, but I have no idea until I’m in my character’s shoes what they are actually going to do.
From this synopsis the copy department will be writing the back cover copy. And while the author (usually) gets to review and edit the cover copy, if there are errors of story they sometimes end up being released. Sure, they’ll be fixed for print, but it can take weeks to have the correct cover copy replicate to all the online sites. Sometimes they never do. Some on-line e-tailers have the never approved, mistakening released cover for KILLING FEAR … or the original cover for THE PREY that was pulled six months before release date because booksellers wanted more movement on the cover.
THE PREY - original cover
THE PREY - Released
KILLING FEAR - Rejected
KILLING FEAR - Released
While the cover issues weren’t really anyone’s fault–the covers needed to be changed for a variety of reasons–back cover copy seems to stay longer in cyberspace and is harder to change. Don’t ask me why!
So I REALLY need to get my synopsis in order because I only have a few dozen very rough pages for STALKED that I know aren’t going to make it past the next two weeks. The deeper I get into the story, the more I realize the opening is all wrong.
I put that aside to work on the synopsis and thinking about where the story was going, or rather, where I THINK the story is going.
To be honest, my rough drafts and my final drafts have little to no resemblance.
In the first draft of THE PREY–the one that Ballantine bought and my editor gave me notes on–FBI Agent Quinn Peterson dies in an explosion near the end of the book. After reading the notes, I resurrected him. Good thing, because he ended up being the hero of THE HUNT. And while the first 300 pages didn’t drastically change in that first book, the last 150 pages were totally rewritten. The ending was completely different.
SILENCED 4.24.12
SILENCED will be my 18th book. Instead of the ending changing–that, more or less, stayed the same–the first half of the book was drastically rewritten. The premise changed (somewhat.) In my editorial letter, my editor wisely pointed out that the story started in the wrong place. I kept referring back to a pivotal event that had happened one week before. Why not write that scene?
I did. It’s now chapter two.
That’s why I was terrified about writing the synopsis for STALKED. I know my first 100 pages are going to be rewritten. They may even be completely deleted. I’ve rewritten the openings of all my books multiple times, both in my drafts and after editorial notes. (I’m sure there’s some deep psychological reason for this, but for me, the first act is just damn hard to write. It takes me twice as long to write the first 150 pages as it does to write the last 300.)
STALKED 10.30.12
But I wrote the expanded synopsis. It went from roughly 250 words to 1300. And when I got to the end, I realized that I had a little problem. While I didn’t know how the story unfolded, I THOUGHT I knew who the killer was.
I don’t. As I thought about the killer as I envisioned him, I “tracked” him down as Lucy would. And I realized … he’s innocent. Yes, the murder has everything–and nothing–to do with him, but he’s not a killer.
In the synopsis, I wrote:
Lucy pulls the files of the people she thinks are most likely to have a connection to this case, and the answer is immediately clear.
I really, really hope that when (if) this scene actually happens, that the answer is clear to Lucy, because I have no effing idea.
The synopsis for STALKED is truly dreadful. But one good thing came out of writing it: excitement. I’m truly excited to find out what happens after Lucy finds the dead body of her favorite instructor at Quantico.
I just ordered a case of LOVE ME TO DEATH to give away at an event. But I’m going to give away FIVE copies here. BETTER, I’m going to let YOU give the copies away. If you comment and win, you get to choose any book from my backlist for YOU, and I’ll also send a friend a copy of Lucy’s first book, LOVE ME TO DEATH–signed, giving you credit for the gift. AND if more than 100 people comment, I’ll give away TEN packages. (Yes, you can see that I’m being very competitive with Rocki and Lori who always get over 100 comments, so just once I’d love to beat them. Hahahaha.)
So let me ask you a question: which is more important, the cover or cover copy? Can you see why I begged to have the KILLING FEAR cover tweaked?
One of the things I love about the Murder She Writes authors is that the women they write about are strong and self sufficient. I’m guess that my own skewed vision of “the damsel in distress” may have been irrevocably altered by a lifetime love of James Bond movies.
It’s been over half a century now since the very first Bond Girl — Honey Ryder, played by Ursula Andress in a white belted bikini accessorized with an assassin’s blade — graced the silver screen and launched a million erections. Sauntering in from the surf just in time for the Sexual Revolution, Bond Girls weren’t considered sexist, but sexy.
But these women were much more than arm charms. When they were good, they were great: not just in bed, but in the field, too. And when they were bad, they weren’t just naughty minxes, but deadly villianesses as well.
The films’ screenwriters (adapting Ian Fleming‘s’ classic spy novels) never met a double entendre they didn’t like. Seriously: with names “Pussy Galore“, “Holly Goodhead” “Plenty O’Toole“, “Bibi Dahl”, “Kissy Suzuki”, “Strawberry Fields”, “Molly Warmflash”, “Xenia Onatopp“, “Fatima Blush”, “Bambi” and “Thumper”– and let’s not forget “Mary Goodnight”), what guy isn’t going to get the wrong idea?
(Note to all aspiring thriller writers: think porn, not corn…)
My own favorites were “Solitaire”, “Domino Vitali, “Jinx” “Paris Carver” and “Vesper Lynd”. Those names have an air of mystery about them, a promise that trouble is just around the corner.
Have a great Bond Girl name?
Post it below, for a chance to win a copy of my book THE BABY PLANNER.
BONUS POINT!
When writing The Housewife Assassin’s Handbook, I considered giving my heroine a name worthy of a Bond Girl. But because the series is also a tip of the chapeau to
television’s domestic goddesses of the 1950s,
I chose the name Donna Stone.”
Email me at MailFromJosie@gmail.com
with the television show that also had a heroine by that name!
Vince Lombardi said, “Perfection is not attainable. But if you chase perfection, you can catch excellence.”
JUSTIFIED is back.
I’m in heaven.
It’s not just because I’m watching Timothy Olyphant. Though, he is nice on the eyes.
Talented actors; brilliant writing; pitch-perfect pacing. Justified is about excellence. I don’t say that lightly.
In fact, I’m such a big fan-girl, that a year ago—after the Season Two premiere—I blogged about this show over at Murderati.
You might think I’m blogging yet again about Justified so I can post pictures like this here at Murder She Writes. Not true. Not me, nope. That would be Lori
But I’ll let you enjoy this shot for a moment.
Or two.
Ready?
Okay, there are a lot of fantastic television shows out there—but most of them are no longer on the networks. Or, the big networks kill them too soon, without giving them an extra push or doing nothing to save them (PRIME SUSPECT & DETROIT 1-8-7 – two of my fave new shows – cancelled after one short season.)
Cable has succeeded because they’re lower budget and can achieve success with a smaller viewership. They break rules and take risks. They don’t fit the mold. This is good for television lovers like me who are frustrated with the ho-hum and predictable shows. Sure, I like BODY OF PROOF and CASTLE and others, but my favorite shows—the shows I put on my calendar—are all on cable.
As soon as F/X announced January 17th as the Season 3 premiere of Justified, it went on my calendar. I bought the season on iTunes, but because I could not wait for the show to air and download, I also recorded it on my DirectTV box and watched it last night
Justified, based on an Elmore Leonard short story “Fire in the Hole” about U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, is violent, edgy, and darkly humorous. I’ve often said that character is the single most important thing in a good book, and that’s true for television as well. Character is the foundation. Without character, it doesn’t matter how strong the writing is or how beautifully the film is shot, or how much money is spent on special effects. If the foundation crumbles, everything else falls with it.
Justified has the acting, writing, and pacing. But it’s foundation is rock solid. It’s about the characters.
Raylan Givens himself (played by Timothy Olyphant) is a flawed hero. Self-confident (cocky); smart; dedicated; bad-ass Western lawman in every sense of the word. DEADWOOD was just preparing him for this role.
Yet, if this show was just about Raylan, it wouldn’t be half as good. Boyd Crowder—played by the amazing Walton Goggins)—is even more complex than Raylan. He’s the bad guy … most of the time. But like any good villain, he’s not pure evil. In fact, he’s not evil, just not good. Boyd has his own code of honor, and when he and Raylan are on the same side, they can fight together. When they’re not? Raylan’s put him in prison a few times.
The other characters are all equally outstanding. Raylan’s boss, his colleagues (I hope they do more with Tim and Rachel, who have been strong secondary characters who add to the show, and can add much more as hinted in some past episodes.) The two primary female characters—Raylan’s whiny, bitchy, cheating, pregnant ex-wife Winona (yes, the baby is Raylan’s. I don’t have to like it.) and Ava, widow of Boyd’s brother who was with Raylan for season one and is now with Boyd. I like Ava. She has spunk, she stands up for herself, and she’s complex just like Boyd and Raylan.
Season three promises to be as good as the first two. Maybe better—and that’s hard to do. But if the opener is any indication, they’re on that road. My only skepticism at all is that the writers think that Winona can be redeemed. Because I trust them, I’m willing to give them the chance—but I think she should leave Raylan and go elsewhere. I mean COME ON. She cheated on him with GARY, a realtor. Divorced Raylan and married the weasel. I actually liked Gary more than her! (And I didn’t like Gary.)
At it’s core, though at times morally murky, JUSTIFIED is about good versus evil. No one is all good, or all bad. It’s also about all the shades of gray in between. It’s about choices you make and living with the consequences. It’s full of action, suspense, humor, crisp dialogue, and–of course–great characters.
And with it, Graham Yost and his crew have caught excellence.
Here’s a little commercial that played last year as a Super Bowl commercial:
And a teaser for Season Three:
I wish I could find the opening scene of season 1, episode 1 to show you — the scene that sold me on the series, where Raylan shoots Tommy Bucks. That scene has lasting consequences, even in Season Three.
Instead, here’s a music video of the opening song with some fantastic clips from season one. Gangstagrass performs the song, and because I loved it so much I bought their album, which inspired IF I SHOULD DIE. They were so gracious to give me permission to quote lyrics from another of their songs in the opening of DIE.
What show do you evangelize for? What show has characters so real you believe? Is there an opening scene that drew you in immediately, sold you on a show hook, line and sinker? Comment below for a chance to win season 1 or 2 of JUSTIFIED on DVD or iTunes; or season 3 gifted from iTunes … winners choice.
The last few months have been particularly difficult for me as a writer. The Doubt Demons invaded.
Self-doubt is rooted in fear, and an author’s worst enemy. I’ve always been critical of my writing, I’ve always been afraid that what I’m writing isn’t good enough, that I’ll never get better, but I never doubted that I could write. I don’t believe in writer’s block as an insurmountable wall, but instead an excuse not to write.
Doubt isn’t writer’s block. Doubt is much, much worse.
“You let self-doubt get a hold of you, it’ll kill your work dead. You’ll stop in the middle of a project, then print the manuscript out for the sole purpose of urinating on its pages before glumly eating them.” – Chuck Wendig
I can attest to the truth of that statement. Every writer doubts. It’s par for the course, not just of writers but most artists. Not just of artists, but most human beings. We are creatures of doubt. The Doubt Demons landed on both shoulders and I listened. I knew I shouldn’t—I could tell myself anything trying to make me feel better. Read motivational books like THE WAR OF ART by Steven Pressfield. Remind myself that I am not alone, that every writer experiences bumps on the road, that some books are going to be harder than others, that if I just sit at the computer every day and write, I’ll finish the book.
But seeking confirmation that I’m not alone in self-doubt is another form of Resistance that Pressfield talks about so much. It’s justification for fear.
“And doubt needs to go suck a pipe. Doubt needs to take a dirt-nap. And the way you do that is by finding your own way. By fostering your own confidence.
Because just as doubt is one of the writer’s greatest enemies … confidence is one of the writer’s most powerful friends.”
Great. Where do I go to regain my confidence?
I had to accept that I’m not the same person I was seven years ago when I sold my first book. Every book has changed me to some degree, some books more drastically than others. It’s the entire process—from writing to production to publication – that is another stepping stone in my career, and some of them are harder steps than others.
It’s easy for me to tell others to be confident and bold in their writing. It’s easy for me to say that self-doubt is evil, you can’t let it in, you have to work through the fear and keep writing.
Easy to say. Much, much harder to do.
“Self-doubt can be an ally. This is because it serves as an indicator of aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing, and desire, desire to do it. … The real [innovator] is scared to death.” – Steven Pressfield, THE WAR OF ART.
Yep, that’s me, scared to death. But self-doubt as an ally? No effing way. I can’t do this again.
I had to understand why I was listening to the Doubt Demons. Because nothing I did to silence them was helping.
The last eighteen months have been a series of changes in my career. I changed agents, leaving one I had been with from the beginning of my career. My supernatural thriller series failed in a pretty big way. Then, I saw the writing on the wall with my publisher—my gut told me I needed to leave. I changed houses—fortunately on my own terms—landing with an editor who has a fabulous reputation and I was excited to be working with.
Except. After seventeen books with the same editorial team, I didn’t know if I could write for someone else. I had developed some lazy habits—such as sending off my rough draft, confident that I’d have time for revisions. I realized I shouldn’t do this to my new editor, that I needed to write a clean, perfect book. I desperately wanted to hit the book out of the ballpark. I wanted it to be the best book I’d ever written. I knew it had to be—and that’s when I killed my creativity.
Every scene was agony. I wrote and rewrote the opening dozens of times and hated every word. Not only was the story imperfect, it was total and complete garbage.
Delete. Start over. Again, and again, and again.
As my deadline neared, the story suffered. I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t know how I was going to tie up all these threads, even in a crappy draft. I’d resigned myself into submitting a rough draft because I no longer had time finish and edit before I sent the book to my editor. I wrote every day, and night, for hours—sometimes staring at the computer so long I lost track of time. I easily wrote 5,000 words a day, but most of them I deleted the next day or a week later. I edited as I went, thinking my book would be clean. I ended up scrapping most of it. If I added up every word I wrote, I wouldn’t be surprised if I wrote over a million words to create this 100,000 word novel.
No one can write a clean, perfect book. Convinced that I had to, I had put an impossible goal in front of me.
Revisions were just as hard—if not harder. My editor gave me fantastic notes, but it was still a change in process. I was adjusting to a new style and I desperately wanted to please her. And again, even when I thought the story was working, my writing was sub-par. And every time she told me she liked it, I feared she was just being nice because we were crunched for time. I second-guessed every story decision I made.
In addition, I had the complications of writing a continuing series. How much backstory is too much? Not enough? Will series fans like the direction? Will new readers be lost? Are my characters growing? Is the conflict real? Why do I want to blow up the city and kill them all?
When I turned in the revisions—late—I was not happy with the book. I couldn’t see it. All my self-doubt weighed on me as I considered that maybe I had lost the touch.
Before I sold, I remember writing for the sheer joy of writing. I loved telling stories, and didn’t care whether they sounded good or whether scenes worked, I just wrote the stories as they came to me. My first four books never sold, nor should they have, but each one gave me many hours of pleasure in just their creation.
I had somehow lost that. The doubt, the panic, the fear had landed, and no inspirational motivator could bring it back. I wanted to throttle Steven Pressfield or burn my dog-eared copy of his book.
I forgot when I originally posted this blog in the wee hours of the morning, that there was one other big thing going on while I was writing SILENCED. My last book with Random House came out on 11.22. It was orphaned, they printed far less, didn’t print a burst on the cover to inform readers there was a bonus novella printed inside, it didn’t get on the shelves in stores when it was supposed to, and sales dipped because it wasn’t widely available. I couldn’t write anything worth saving during release week.
“That’s the horrible thing about self-doubt: it convinces us that our own failure is inevitable, an unavoidable recourse based on our own screaming lack of talent. But failure isn’t inevitable, and in fact failure is created by a fear of failure and by our certain uncertainty we possess about our own ability to succeed. Writers engineer their own failure with such grace and elegance it’s almost impressive. Remember: failure is not a foregone conclusion.” – Chuck Wendig
When I got the copyedits back, my worst fears were realized. The book was full of holes, shitty writing, and doubt. The doubt was spilled all over the page like zombie guts. Fortunately, the copyeditor was diligent in her queries and I painstakingly went through every page and edited extensively on paper. I deleted chunks, added scenes, cut repetition, and reworked sentences. This was my last chance—once these changes were made, the book would be going to reviewers and others, and I didn’t have time to wallow in self-doubt and self-pity.
I was so stressed about the copyedits, that after I overnighted the manuscript to New York, I made all the changes in my master copy and sent additional changes to my editor—problems that I hadn’t noticed the first time through.
I’m pretty certain the production people hate me by now. The copyedited manuscript was so marked up in green pencil (my preferred editing color) that they might have thought an alien had pissed all over it.
So I sent chocolate covered strawberries to buy their forgiveness.
I’m nervous about getting back the page proofs, my one last change to fix problems, but I can’t make major changes. I begged Toni to read the book because I honestly couldn’t see anything good—I had spent so much time writing this book, more hours than any other book I’ve written, I was sick of it.
After reading, Toni assured me it didn’t suck.
As Pressfield says in THE WAR OF ART:
“The amateur believes he must first overcome his fear; then he can do his work. The professional knows that fear can never be overcome. He knows there is no such thing as a fearless warrior or a dread-free artist.”
If being a dread-filled artist is a good thing, then I’m probably the best damn artist out there.
“The Demons of Doubt will always sit on your shoulders. Sorry. It’s a law of writing physics. You cannot banish them, but you can defang them.”
Which goes perfectly with Chuck Wendig’s advice on how to defang the Doubt Demons:
“You mustn’t be seduced by the callous whispers of the doubting monster at your back. To survive as a writer you must wheel on the beast, your sharpened pen at hand. Then you must spear him to the earth.”
I don’t know if understanding why the Doubt Demons invaded my muse is going to fix the problem, but I’m starting my next book. The doubt is still there, but I figure nothing can be worse than writing the last book.
Several years ago, I bought the audio book of ON WRITING. I don’t particularly like audio books, but Stephen King himself narrated it, and I listened to it while driving. It was like having the master himself sit in the passenger seat and talk to me. I’m a life-long King fan since reading THE STAND when I was 13. He, too, has doubts. He, too, almost gave up.
“Writing fiction, especially a long work of fiction, can be a difficult, lonely job; it’s like crossing the Atlantic Ocean in a bathtub. There’s plenty of opportunity for self-doubt. If I write rapidly, putting down my story exactly as it comes into my mind, … I find that I can keep up with my original enthusiasm and at the same time outrun the self-doubt that’s always waiting to settle in.”
I used to write like that—getting the story out as fast as my fingers could type, with great enthusiasm and an underlying joy.
With this book, I’m going to outrun the self-doubt. If I can’t? I’ll spear the monster dead.
I’m pretty certain he’ll come back to life.
I’m going to sharpen some more pencils.
Okay, so when I posted a comment about my son playing football, I had to post this picture showing the courage he had going up against bigger kids. He’s in purple on the right, the other little guy on the team is on the left. If they can face real monsters (and to them, I’m sure these kids looked like monsters!) I can face doubt demons.
It’s 11 a.m. on the East Coast as I write this blog — I’m late. (It’s 8 a.m. in California, where I live, but here at MSW we endeavor to schedule our blog to post between midnight and 6 a.m. ET, so I’m late.)
Being late is the story of my life. My kids lament that I’m late to everything. Usually it’s only a couple minutes. Last year, when I was responsible for driving the kids to school, they were late 2 out of 5 days in the week. The tardies were so bad, I had to have a meeting with the principal. (I was contrite.) Now that my husband or daughter are responsible for getting the non-driving kids to school, they’ve only been tardy ONE DAY in the first half of the year.
For the last two days, I’ve been fighting a cold. Nothing serious, just a running nose/headache. Drugs and homeopathic remedies (essentially Sudafed for the nose so it’s not leaking 24/7 and Emergen-C + zinc to help the cold go away faster) have worked to keep it from getting worse, but it’s just lingering there so … I went to bed early last night. And totally forgot about the blog, which I usually write the night before. SO I wake up at 7:45 and my first thought? “Oh, shit, it’s Thursday!”
It’s been a busy couple weeks in the Brennan house. We’ve had a Christmas Choir performance, my youngest’s Christmas play, Christmas shopping, mid-terms (which also means mid-term projects), and parent-teacher conferences. I’m very proud of my two teen-agers who have worked hard this semester, both landing a 3.3 this semester. My youngest doesn’t get letter grades, but my other two have straight-As. (Well, my brilliant 5th grader had a B+ in language arts, but swore he to secrecy so don’t tell anyone.)
And then there was my book.
SILENCED is the fourth Lucy Kincaid book, and the first for a new publisher. I’m working on a blog about the psychological challenges I faced writing this book, but that’s something I don’t want to rush. I’m elated that it’s DONE. Writing, revising, and copyedits. I went through the copyedits TWICE — something I never do — because the story needed tweaking. I made all the copyedited changes in my electronic version and sent that to my editor to be distributed (it’s this stage that the proofs for review and in-house reading are made–I wanted the manuscript in the best possible shape.) I’m happier with it now, but won’t really know if it works until I get the proofs and sit down to read it in one long sitting. I read proofs first for story, quickly flagging pages for errors, then again to fix the mistakes.
Because my revisions were late (I rewrote the entire second half of the books) I only had a few days for the copyedits, but those were on time. Whew. Sometimes, it’s not good being late. But they’re done and that’s a huge weight off my shoulders. I can enjoy Christmas, write a short story, and await the page proofs while researching the next Lucy Kincaid book, STALKED.
If you haven’t checked out my new website, please do. My web guy has updated the site to be more user-friendly–and mobile friendly. It works on tablets and phones. I think it looks great. But the content, which is my responsibility, is lacking.
What information would you like to see on my website? Do you find it easy to navigate and find the information you want? Let me know! There’s a box of books in it for one of you — YA and thrillers. My daughter cleaned out her bedroom, which is good for everyone.
Have a very Merry Christmas and Holiday Season, and a safe New Year.
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