by Claudine Wolk I adore books about writing. The whole process is fascinating to me. How thrilling is it to write a book and then see it published and sold? As a reader, I am fascinated with the writing process as well. I wonder how the author came up with their idea and how they developed the skill to keep readers intrigued. Two of my favorite books by authors about the writing process is Stephen King’s On Writing and Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. When I heard that author Anna Quindlen was coming to Doylestown to my town speak and had a book out about writing, Write for Your Life, I purchased a ticket immediately. I arrived at the Life Science’s building on my local university’s campus just as the sun was setting on an April evening. Clusters of girlfriends and a few couples hurriedly approached the entrance doors, so I knew I was in the right place. Once the audience was seated, Ms. Quindlen was promptly introduced and led to two single seats at center stage. All About Writing and Why It Is a Lost Art For the next few minutes, Quindlen encouraged the audience to write. “Where would we be without the diary of Ann Frank,” she mused? “How will the people who come after us know us if we no longer write and leave them something?” “Email and texts are great,” she said, “but the Letters of Albelard and Heloise they are not.” “Writing is so important, she intoned, “because it’s a lost art.” Quindlen talked about her teachers. Said she would not be a writer without them. She spoke about how lucky she feels to be able to earn a living by writing and that she has a son who is a writer but he has another occupation to make ends meet. She talked about her relationship with her editor. Her editor is excellent and she listens to her editor. Her editor makes her books better. Even when Quindlen writes a passage she loves, if it does not move the story forward, it is taken out! She talked about the movies that have been made from her books, meeting Meryl Streep and how surreal it was to be on a set that looked exactly like she had imagined it as she wrote about it. She shared that she feels that the movie versions of her books were true to her books and that she was pleased that the movies share the same title. She also commiserated that as a NY Times, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist, her columns were sometimes criticized for not being true while at the same time her fiction novels are often suspected as being true. The audience chuckled at that revelation. Aspiring Writer Audience Members Ask Questions of Quindlen A question-and-answer session was introduced by the host and the audience warmed up after the first brave soul raised her hand. An aspiring writer asked how to make her writing less “weird? “Weird is good,” Quindlen said. “Weird sells.” Questions of Quindlen’s writing process followed. She was asked: How do you write - in outline form? Where do you write - a separate room and separate house? Do you need complete peace and quiet? One audience member pleaded for advice. “I have written a whole bunch of stuff and I don’t know how to put it into story format?” Quindlen suggested to get it all down first and trust that a story flow will emerge. Another audience member asked how she could make a living from writing. “Don’t count on it,” chuckled Quindlen. Another asked about her memoir research and shared, “Each of my family members gave me a different version of the same story, which one should I pick?” “The beauty of being the writer is that you get to pick the version of the story that works for you,” Quindlen soothed. “All versions are true.” One audience member seemed in actual pain as she asked her question. She lamented that she felt she could not write unless she was away from her kids and husband alone in a cabin for hours at a time. Only then did she feel that she would be able to write. Quindlen was gentle with her and explained that she didn’t have the issue of young kids these days but the demands of motherhood were an issue for her years ago. Quindlen’s solution was to write when her kids went to school from 9:00 am when she dropped them off to 1:00 when she picked them up. To this day, she told us, those are her writing hours. What You Need To Become a Writer Finally, and for the second time that evening, Quindlen uttered a word that I believe is the key to becoming a writer. Confidence Maria Von Rapp famously sang about confidence in The Sound of Music, “I have confidence in sunshine, I have confidence in rain, I have confidence that spring will come again, because which you see I have confidence in me!” You must have confidence to be a writer. You must have confidence that what you write is good enough to be written down, read by someone else, and out there in the world. Anna Quindlen admitted to the audience that she musters confidence every time she sits down to write. As she revealed this last admission, I felt the shoulders of the aspiring writers in the audience start to relax. As we gathered our things at the end of the presentation, my fellow audience members confessed that they were inspired to start writing. I was too. * * *Claudine Wolk is an author, podcast host, and radio host. Follow her substack newsletter Get Your Book Seen and Sold or visit ClaudineWolk.com. Claudine lives with her husband, Joe, in Bucks County, PA and is working on her next book. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(C) Copyright wow-womenonwriting.com Visit WOW! Women On Writing for lively interviews and how-tos. Check out WOW!'s Classroom and learn something new. Enter the Quarterly Writing Contests. Open Now![url={url}]View the full article[/url]

I"m starting a writer's group recovery service, rather like a Red Cross for Writers.

Oh Writer Bear, I love you. Connie

Mount Baldy in clouds. Photograph by josephmachine. Licensed under CC0 4.0. To mark the appearance of Leonard Cohen’s “Begin Again” in our Summer issue, we’re publishing a series of short reflections on his life and work. On “Tower of Song” (1988), Leonard Cohen’s weary croak cracks the joke: “I was born like this / I had no choice / I was born with the gift of a golden voice.” He can’t quite sustain his own melody, but some of us remain enchanted—and not merely by his self-effacement. The irony, we suspect, involves us, too. Choicelessness is one of his great themes: we don’t choose our blessings or our deficits, and we don’t choose our material conditions. Fine. But Leonard Cohen takes it further: maybe we can’t even control the impulse to defy our deficits, to work against the grain of what we’ve been given. We feel sentenced to sing even without a golden voice—by our own unruly desires, or by “twenty-seven angels from the great beyond.” The metaphorical cause matters less than the effect: “They tied me to this table right here in the Tower of Song.” Leonard Cohen came to music late, at least compared to his countercultural contemporaries. Bob Dylan was twenty-one when he released his first album; Leonard Cohen was thirty-three. He struggled to adapt his literary strategies to the new form. Even before his baritone stiffened with age, there was something workmanlike in his sensuous, spiritual, serious songs—not just in his delivery, but in his compositional structure, his preference for the heavy-handed end rhyme. Park / dark. Alone / stone. Pinned / sin. Soon / moon. He never made much use of slant rhyme, syncopation, or any of the sinuous tricks of great vocalists from the blues tradition. The second verse of “Tonight Will Be Fine” (1969) seems to describe the monastic simplicity of his compositions: “I choose the rooms that I live in with care / The windows are small and the walls almost bare / There’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer / I listen all night for your step on the stair.” For me, Leonard Cohen’s voice is that step on the stair—stumbling through the song’s tidy rooms, making the floorboards groan. His flatfooted rhythm makes wisdom’s weight hit harder. I sometimes think of Leonard Cohen seated like a stone on Mount Baldy, where he became an actual monk in 1994 and where he lived for five years. I know a guy who studied at the same monastery. He would try to catch the singer stirring during morning meditation—even just breathing—but his stillness seemed absolute. This discipline frightens me, though it must have been hard-won. I like his songs because they let us overhear the rage and desire rattling discipline’s wooden frame: “I’m interested in things that contribute to my survival,” Cohen told David Remnick. He liked the Beatles just fine, but he needed Ray Charles. And I need Leonard Cohen—not the Zen master, but “this laborer called a writer” (his words) arduously working through a voice too plain for his own poetry. He keeps me company in the difficult silence between my own sentences. “I can hear him coughing all night long, / a hundred floors above me in the Tower of Song.” We’re both still straining—sweetly—for the music. Carina del Valle Schorske is a literary translator and a contributing writer at The New York Times Magazine. Her debut essay collection, The Other Island, is forthcoming from Riverhead. View the full article

Neon Gods Neon Gods by Katee Robert is $1.99! This is the first book in the Dark Olympus series. This is close to the top of my TBR pile and I’ve heard so many good things. A friend read it and wished it were spicier. Are you a fan? He was supposed to be a myth. But from the moment I crossed the River Styx and fell under his dark spell… …he was, quite simply, mine. Society darling Persephone Dimitriou plans to flee the ultra-modern city of Olympus and start over far from the backstabbing politics of the Thirteen Houses. But all that’s ripped away when her mother ambushes her with an engagement to Zeus, the dangerous power behind their glittering city’s dark facade. With no options left, Persephone flees to the forbidden undercity and makes a devil’s bargain with a man she once believed a myth…a man who awakens her to a world she never knew existed. Hades has spent his life in the shadows, and he has no intention of stepping into the light. But when he finds that Persephone can offer a little slice of the revenge he’s spent years craving, it’s all the excuse he needs to help her—for a price. Yet every breathless night spent tangled together has given Hades a taste for Persephone, and he’ll go to war with Olympus itself to keep her close… A modern retelling of Hades and Persephone that’s as sinful as it is sweet. Add to Goodreads To-Read List → You can find ordering info for this book here. Someone to Hold Someone to Hold by Mary Balogh is $1.99 and a Kindle Daily Deal! This is the second book in the Westcott series, which I know many of you love. We had some wonderful comments yesterday about Balogh’s comforting romance. Humphrey Wescott, Earl of Riverdale, has died, leaving behind a fortune and a scandalous secret that will forever alter the lives of his family—sending one daughter on a journey of self-discovery… With her parents’ marriage declared bigamous, Camille Westcott is now illegitimate and without a title. Looking to eschew the trappings of her old life, she leaves London to teach at the Bath orphanage where her newly discovered half-sister lived. But even as she settles in, she must sit for a portrait commissioned by her grandmother and endure an artist who riles her every nerve. An art teacher at the orphanage that was once his home, Joel Cunningham has been hired to paint the portrait of the haughty new teacher. But as Camille poses for Joel, their mutual contempt soon turns to desire. And it is only the bond between them that will allow them to weather the rough storm that lies ahead… Add to Goodreads To-Read List → You can find ordering info for this book here. Much Ado About You Much Ado About You by Samantha Young is $1.99! I feel like Young is an author that readers really like or don’t. Catherine read this one and wasn’t impressed. She gave it a C. Have you read this one? I’m tempted by the Great Dane. The cozy comforts of an English village bookstore open up a world of new possibilities for Evie Starling in this charming new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young. At thirty-three-years old Evangeline Starling’s life in Chicago is missing that special something. And when she’s passed over for promotion at work, Evie realizes she needs to make a change. Some time away to regain perspective might be just the thing. In a burst of impulsivity, she plans a holiday in a quaint English village. The holiday package comes with a temporary position at Much Ado About Books, the bookstore located beneath her rental apartment. There’s no better dream vacation for the bookish Evie, a life-long Shakespeare lover. Not only is Evie swept up in running the delightful store as soon as she arrives, she’s drawn into the lives, loves and drama of the friendly villagers. Including Roane Robson, the charismatic and sexy farmer who tempts Evie every day with his friendly flirtations. Evie is determined to keep him at bay because a holiday romance can only end in heartbreak, right? But Evie can’t deny their connection and longs to trust in her handsome farmer that their whirlwind romance could turn in to the forever kind of love. Add to Goodreads To-Read List → You can find ordering info for this book here. The Left-Handed Booksellers of London The Left-Handed Booksellers of London by Garth Nix is $2.99! This is another Kindle Daily Deal and features magical booksellers. I know Nix’s YA fantasy novels have been a source for comfort for the Bitchery. This is the first in a series and it looks like book two is out next year. A girl’s quest to find her father leads her to an extended family of magical fighting booksellers who police the mythical Old World of England when it intrudes on the modern world. From the bestselling master of teen fantasy, Garth Nix. In a slightly alternate London in 1983, Susan Arkshaw is looking for her father, a man she has never met. Crime boss Frank Thringley might be able to help her, but Susan doesn’t get time to ask Frank any questions before he is turned to dust by the prick of a silver hatpin in the hands of the outrageously attractive Merlin. Merlin is a young left-handed bookseller (one of the fighting ones), who with the right-handed booksellers (the intellectual ones), are an extended family of magical beings who police the mythic and legendary Old World when it intrudes on the modern world, in addition to running several bookshops. Susan’s search for her father begins with her mother’s possibly misremembered or misspelt surnames, a reading room ticket, and a silver cigarette case engraved with something that might be a coat of arms. Merlin has a quest of his own, to find the Old World entity who used ordinary criminals to kill his mother. As he and his sister, the right-handed bookseller Vivien, tread in the path of a botched or covered-up police investigation from years past, they find this quest strangely overlaps with Susan’s. Who or what was her father? Susan, Merlin, and Vivien must find out, as the Old World erupts dangerously into the New. Add to Goodreads To-Read List → You can find ordering info for this book here. View the full article

Welcome to the last week of our Readalong! Thank you so much to everyone who joined our readalong and made it such a succes! We’ve loved being able to discuss Shelley Parker-Chan’s incredible debut with you all. You can find the discussion across our socials: Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram and on our Discord server. Week 1: Beginning through Chapter 4 Week 2: Chapter 5 – Chapter 11 Week 3: Chapter 12 – Chapter 17 Week 4: Chapter 18 to the end SPOILERS AHEAD: This post is a book-club style discussion of the novel, rather than a review to tempt new readers in. We do discuss plot points, character motivations, and twists – if you have not read the book and do not want it spoiled, please do not read further! You can find more responses to our discussion, and join in yourself, on our Google doc Week 4: Ch. 18 – Ch. 23 We’ve covered a lot of the big themes of the book over the last weeks, but one that really makes its presence known in this part is desire. Zhu, Ouyang, Ma… they each have different desires but what did you make of their reactions to them? Nils: Chan explores desire in many forms, and shows how they all have different consequences. Zhu’s desire for ‘greatness’ turns her into a killer, yet her desire for companionship draws out her softer side. Are we going to talk about the sex scene Beth? Beth: I totally think we should discuss it! This was the first sapphic sex scene I’ve encountered like this, and although it came as a surprise, I had to applaud Parker-Chan for the rep. I’m aware my reading needs to be much more diverse, but it seems to me sapphic love scenes are always quite soft, feminine, for one of the party it’s almost always a self-discovery moment. I liked that instead, we get the kind of graphic, behind-closed-doors realism you’d get from a hetero sex scene by someone like Abercrombie. And another thing you say her desire for companionship draws out her softer side, but this moment didn’t feel very soft. It very much felt like a moment of control, like even in this Zhu is in control? Nils: Excellent points my friend! You’re absolutely right, the sex between Zhu and Ma was as graphic and raw as any scene Abercrombie or even Fonda Lee would write, it is pure passion and lust and for that I did appreciate it. You also make a great point that the whole time, Zhu takes charge. Though I guess what I mean by her softer side being portrayed is that during that scene Zhu shows some of her vulnerabilities too. To begin with she’s not entirely comfortable with her own body and is coming to terms with her body being desirable to Ma, does that make sense? Beth: It does! And you’re absolutely right, and it was really lovely to see that moment with her! But as for her other desire, to be great, she makes some key realisations during this part of the story. Ouyang tries to punish Zhu in the worst way he believes possible; in mutilating her, in the “destruction of pride and honour” by removing her sword hand and, therefore, her ability to command. But this brings Zhu to the realisation that, that entire belief doesn’t apply to her, because she’s not a man. She’s “a different substance entirely”. It felt like yet another really important step for her down her path away from what she believes was her brother’s destiny and towards her own understanding of herself. As for Ouyang, his desire seems so complex and conflicting, doesn’t it? No one in this book is as hard on themselves as Ouyang. I think he has a great deal in common with Ma, actually, in believing himself incapable of being able or allowed to desire. Not just because of his position, but because his desire for Esen wars against his desire for vengeance. He cannot have both. Nils: Oh absolutely, he’s definitely a character full of complexities and inner conflicts. Has Zhu developed into a full grimdark morally grey character? Do we think she’s lost her way? How does the Zhu who contrived Fang’s dismissal compare with the one that slit the PM’s throat? Nils: I definitely feel she became a grimdark character, one who’s morals bended to favour her own personal goals. I had previously said that I didn’t believe the ‘real’ Zhu actually wanted to kill anyone, but now I’m not so sure, now I know she’ll kill easily without regret. Her need to fulfil her fate of ‘greatness’ has now consumed her whole and blinded her to the ruthless, murderous person she evolves into by the end. Yet what if she always had this ability in her? Beth: We were really upset by how dark she became, weren’t we Nils! But (someone, was Annemieke?) made a great point that right from the start, she’s all about survival. We kind of worked off the assumption that she kind of starts on level zero, as it were, but actually she’s never given us any evidence for that. She’s not known a life other than doing anything to survive. Nils: Yeah I guess that’s why I’m really conflicted by Zhu, on the one hand I fully understand why she needs to be so brutal, but on the other hand I can’t help but dislike her because of it. For example, killing the child Prince Radiance was a step too far for me, again, I understand this was the practical path for Zhu, as she wanted to become the most powerful influential figure and command the rebel army entirely and she couldn’t allow anyone to be more powerful than her, also I do realise that perhaps this is an accurate depiction of what historical figures have been known to do… but Ma was so against it, and it felt like Zhu only briefly took her wife’s feelings into consideration, yes she gave her a choice but what kind of choice was that? Accept it or leave? More importantly the Prince was still a child, an innocent child, who just happened to be given an awful fate. Beth: I just didn’t see it coming? And up to that point I kept wondering well, how is this going to work? How is Zhu going to become the Emperor when the Prince of Radiance has the Mandate – and despite knowing it couldn’t possibly work, I still didn’t see her killing this poor child who just seemed a pawn throughout the story. I felt so sorry for him. Nils: So did I. He hadn’t experienced a life at all. And speaking of deaths, how do we feel about Ouyang killing Esen? Did you see this coming? Nils: The bastard!! In all honesty, I disliked Ouyang by the end too. Esen deserved better than that betrayal by firstly his brother and then his closest friend, possible future lover, Ouyang. Again Parker-Chan truly makes you understand why Esen had to die, for Ouyang to complete his coup and fully act upon his revenge, Esen was the last obstacle to conquer. Yet from my perspective, and I’m one who loved Esen’s character, that was too brutal! Beth: There was a lot hanging on that moment, wasn’t there. The death of Esen represented the death of a number of things for Ouyang. Like Zhu and the Prince of Radiance, I couldn’t see how Ouyang’s future could play out with Esen still by his side. It’s very much a story about the lengths people will go to, to achieve their desires, and exploration of that. For the longest time, I just wanted Ouyang to fall into Esen’s arms… but then I really started to feel like maybe Esen didn’t actually deserve Ouyang. He certainly didn’t seem to understand him all that well, would often wound him without even having the slightest idea he had. And yet I still didn’t see Ouyang actually going ahead and killing him. Nils: I felt that Esen was one of the only characters in this book who could have learnt to be better, who could have really tried to understand Ouyang had Ouyang opened up a touch more, confided in him. Beth: Oh that’s such a good point Nils! Maybe he could have! Nils: Esen never intentionally hurt Ouyang, but there was a great level of ignorance and naivety in him, I don’t believe it was malice and I felt given time he could truly change. Had Ouyang let him live long enough. I’m all for morally grey characters, I’ve read plenty of books with characters who commit violent, often horrific deeds (I’m thinking of Hilo from Fonda Lee’s, The Green Bone Saga!) and yet I have still found a certain charm within them, something to like and root for, despite this. For some reason I couldn’t quite gel with Zhu and Ouyang even though they have valid reasons for their deeds and inhabit the complexities I usually love seeing in characters. Personally for me though, by the end they both just become too unlikeable. Beth: I was really disappointed too. But now I’ve absorbed the events a little better, I feel like, by making their characters take those extra steps and become unlikeable, Parker-Chan has lifted this above being a simple story with Good and Bad and Satisfying Neat Ends. Their characters are so much more complex than that, they represent so much more than that. They storm through their narratives very much not here to be liked, their concerns are above that. Nils: That’s a great point! I honestly believe Parker-Chan did a fantastic intricate job with these characters, even if I personally felt no longer invested in them. The Mandate of Heaven was an aspect that never gets fully explained. What do you think might be going on here and how important do you think it will be in the next book? Beth: This was an aspect of the story that I didn’t focus on too much, as it felt like there was a lot more importance placed on other parts. So with that in mind, I think it will turn out to be very important in the next book? But I don’t know what it means that so many people seemed able to produce a light: the Prince of Radiance’s red light, the Great Khan’s blue, General Zhang’s orange light and finally Zhu’s white light. Surely if it’s Heaven’s mandate of rule, there wouldn’t be so many people with it? Nils: What did the different colours signify? Do we know? To be honest I was really confused by the concept of the Mandate of Heaven but it was a point I was intrigued by because I thought by the end I’d get more clarity. So maybe you’re right Beth, and Parker-Chan is saving that for book two. Beth: I’d love to know what the different colours might mean! So we’ve been skirting around this, but let’s finally address the elephant in the room: is this a fantasy? Nils: This is actually another part I struggled with throughout the book. I knew prior to reading She Who Became that the fantasy elements would be few and far between but nevertheless I feel disappointed. Mostly because Parker-Chan had quite a few fantastical concepts bubbling away in the background, which we’ve been theorising on throughout this readalong, and by the end I was hoping to see them more fleshed out. I think had the novel been pitched as solely a historical fiction, or historical reimagining, my expectations would have been different, I wouldn’t have expected nor wanted any fantasy elements at all. Beth: It’s a strange one, isn’t it! I don’t mind that the fantasy elements are quite limited – we have the ghosts, and the Mandate of Heaven, but I wouldn’t say these were enough to place the book firmly within the fantasy genre. I can’t work out why it’s been pushed so hard as a fantasy therefore, and not a speculative historical fiction. It didn’t impact my enjoyment of the story at all though. Nils: Having those parts removed detracts very little from the more important aspects of the story, so it leaves the question of why they’ve been added at all. Beth: Exactly! What was your overall impression of the book? What did you enjoy the most? Was there anything you wish had been done differently? Nils: She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker Chan is a fantastic exploration of cultural gender roles and gender expectations. It is a novel where the characters break through these walls and live a life where their worth and their deeds are far more significant than their gender ever would be. These characters fight to be seen as more. It’s a novel of fate, destiny and of survival. Those are the aspects which I absolutely loved; Parker-Chan provided a wealth of philosophical aspects to ponder over, and her historical world was realistically brutal and gave cause for her character’s motivations. Beth: I found it such a powerful novel. These are representations of stories we don’t get enough of, that get told and shared enough. I loved the complexity of all Parker-Chan’s characters. Nils: However, unfortunately there were just parts of the novel, which for me personally, didn’t work. I found the pacing to be rather slow and lacking in action, it felt as though Chan would build up to an action scene, only to skim over it in a few lines. A kind of “fade to black”. There also wasn’t enough fantasy elements and I wasn’t too impressed with how our main characters evolved by the end, as I’ve mentioned above. Beth: That’s such a good point about the action scenes Nils! It’s not really that kind of book, so it’s very much a personal taste point. I’d have loved to seen more fantasy too. And also like you, I was shocked by the developments at the end. Again, objectively I can see the progression of the characters and the necessity of their decisions, how powerful they’re becoming and what it represents about them. But as a reader it broke my heart a little! Nils: And mine! Having said all that, I’m so pleased to have read this novel, delving into the deeper themes and hidden meanings was a fascinating experience to share and discuss with Beth and the other readalong participants. I truly applaud Shelley Parker Chan for her exceptional representation. Beth: She Who Became the Sun is an atmospheric power-house of a novel. The way Parker-Chan brought this time period to life, brought these people to life, their culture, is so immersive. It had the feel of a sprawling Chinese epic, that they’d transported us back. But the true focus of this novel is of course Zhu and Ouyang and the way their world tries to shape them – the clash of when their worlds meet their solid unshakeable desire and belief. That inner battle is truly something to behold! The post SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN by Shelley Parker-Chan – READALONG Week 4 appeared first on The Fantasy Hive. View the full article

Note: This post does not contain a happy ending. In Seattle, June is the cruelest month. Terrifying. Violent, too. A month where people rarely leave their homes, and if they must, they hurry from house to car, exhaling only once safely inside, windows rolled up, doors locked. In June, schools forgive truancy. Non-urgent appointments–dental check-ups, meetings with financial planners, eyebrow shaping–pretty much anything other than trips to the ER–are put off until mid-July. Have you seen Hitchcock’s film, The Birds? Hitchcock himself claimed, “It could be the most terrifying motion picture I have ever made.” I bet Hitchcock was inspired by Seattle in June. Because of Poe’s quothing ravens, I’ve always found crows a bit sinister, but in general, I had no beef with any corvids, not really, until June 2013. While walking to get my daughter at school, a crow–out of nowhere–slapped me across the back of the head with a rolled-up magazine. At least, that’s what it felt like. The June 2015 NPR story, “They Will Strafe You,” taught me these attacks are common. I was simply in the wrong place (near the crow’s fledglings) at the wrong time (June, fledgling season). This particular crow, undoubtedly sleep deprived and struggling with postpartum depression, deemed me a threat. Thus, she grabbed her June 2013 issue of The New Yorker, or perhaps The Economist, or maybe it was The New Republic, and whacked my head. I began to fear another strafing. “No eye contact, people!” I’d yell at my children, my husband, my dog, whenever I saw a crow. “You make eye contact, and THEY WILL STRAFE YOU!” The whole world was starting to feel unsafe, and not just in June. Year-round, I felt the beady eyes of crows upon me. Fast forward nine (terror-filled) years, and we arrive at Spring 2022. At the end of May, bunion surgery left me horizontal with my sad, swollen foot in the air. For weeks, I crutched only between the TV room sofa and my Room of Convalescence. Back and forth, forth and back. Then May became June. June! Bedridden and homebound, I could not escape their terrible cawing, could not ignore the murderous shadows that darkened my windows. Twenty-three days post-op, loopy with a weird mix of boredom and fatigue, tired of my POW status, I raised my fist at the crow-laden spruce in my yard. “Nevermore!” I shouted. “NEVERMORE!” After Googling “what do crows eat,” (the answer: “pretty much anything”) I crutched to the kitchen and found a box of stale, generic-brand Wheat Thins. I then crutched awkwardly–it’s difficult to crutch while holding a box of anything–to the sliding glass doors that leads to our backyard. I opened the doors six inches, set my crutches on the floor, sat myself beside my crutches, then frisbee’d a fistful of crackers outside. And I waited. Needless to say, by the end of the week, I had a handful of brainy crow-pals, all of whom I christened “Carole,” a gender-neutral name that ensured I wouldn’t wrongly assume their preferred pronouns. Their crownouns. Extending the olive branch of generic Wheat Thins, inviting my worst fear into our yard, having the opportunity to applaud the Caroles for the way they neatly stacked crackers, four at a time, then transported their repast with Henry Ford-like efficiency to their roost, all that made me a little less fearful. Not fear-free, just less fear-full. Except my husband was uncomfortable. My children, confused. My BFF, Erica, feared I had finally lost my mind. My funny friend, Robin, dropped off a little crow finger puppet. Worse, there was exponentially more crow crap in our backyard. And things had gone missing: twine that held my husband’s raspberry bushes against the fence, a few of his melon seedlings, the pack of tiny-handed raccoons who sauntered, arrogant and badass, through our yard pretty much whenever they felt like it. Would my dog be next? Recently, I think a lot about fear. How, like a contagion, fear infects our hearts and brains, our relationships and communities. Even when there’s good reason to feel scared, fear tempts us to retreat, isolate, blame, hoard. Our hearts become hard, stingy. Our worlds become small. But thank goodness for writers! Writers invent stories that connect strangers and expand hearts, stories that make readers’ worlds bigger. Writers arrange words into images that remind people of the beauty that remains, even amid today’s difficult news. Stories, even scary ones, make us feel not so alone, not so disconnected, not so fear-filled. On June 1st, after spending ten years writing, and another ten years of rejection and revision, my loyal agent and I found a home for my first novel. I am thrilled. Also, I am TERRIFIED. There are roughly seventy-five reasons for this nebulous, nagging fear, all of which are simultaneously valid and stupid. But just as we cannot create a world where epidemics, tyrants, injustice, and dive-bombing crows are extinct, we cannot create a fear-free life. We can only keep inviting the crows to our backyard. Until we cannot. “The Caroles are eating my bean plants,” my husband announced. The bean plants he grew from seed. I swallowed. “You’re sure it’s the Caroles?” He nodded. “And there’s the crow-crap. And the missing twine … I think we need a scarecrow.” A scarecrow? Suddenly I was meant to terrorize the Caroles? Equally important: How could I face my fear if I couldn’t, well, face my fear? He was right though. I had to stop feeding them. There was the issue with the crow-crap and the missing stuff. Plus I love my dog. I didn’t want the Caroles to take him as their own. And honestly, I was still scared of the Caroles. I still worried they’d attack me, tie me down with the stolen twine, steal my shiny necklace, then peck out my face. Acknowledging the fear, exposing myself to it, feeding it stale crackers, had not made it evaporate. Likewise, acknowledging that this next phase of the writing journey is terrifying, identifying the reasons for the terror, blogging about it, none of that eradicates the fear. It’s still there, and it’s still scary. So … now what? Simple! I continue moving forward in my writing journey. So do you. We continue using words to expand the world, to amplify empathy, to fertilize the love-parts of our fellow human’s hearts. We keep creating characters who are happily living their safe lives–until they are suddenly very much unsafe. Those characters help us understand how to navigate a vast array of our own real-life, omnipresent, Hitchcockian horrors. See? No happy ending. Just this truth: The world needs not scarecrows, but stories. Mine and yours. Your turn! What’s your greatest writing-related fear? Have you ever been crow-slapped? What crazy things have you done as a result of bunion surgery? What do you do when fear, depression, or sorrow feels bigger than your need to write? I can’t wait to hear from you. Crow photo by Flickr’s Sheila Sund. About Sarah CallenderSarah Callender lives in Seattle with her husband, son and daughter. A crummy house-cleaner and terrible at responding to emails in a timely fashion, Sarah chooses instead to focus on her fondness for chocolate and Abe Lincoln. She is working on her third novel while her fab agent pitches the first two to publishers. Web | Twitter | More Posts http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/WriterUnboxed?d=yIl2AUoC8zA http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/WriterUnboxed?d=qj6IDK7rITs http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/WriterUnboxed?i=lUUQ8nNqvbc:tsOXMu9KTb4:gIN9vFwOqvQ http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/WriterUnboxed?i=lUUQ8nNqvbc:tsOXMu9KTb4:D7DqB2pKExk [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

In crime fiction, there is always a victim. Someone is murdered or a body is found, and the police are called in to investigate. The murder victim generally leaves behind loved ones who mourn them. They want the crime solved, and the culprit brought to justice. On the other hand, someone wanted the victim dead, so chances are they weren’t all sweetness and light. That’s the line mystery writers walk. We generally want a victim sympathetic enough to make readers want to see justice served, but they also have to believe the victim did something bad enough to move the villain to murder. Generally. Once in a while you find a victim who lived their life in such a way that they are mourned by none. No one is calling for justice, and some are figuratively dancing on their graves. Including the readers. That’s the kind of victim I have in A Bride’s Guide to Marriage and Murder—a man so reprehensible, those left behind want nothing more than to give the culprit a round of applause. Everyone he knew had a reason to want him dead, but which one actually did it? While writing this book, I looked for other mysteries with memorable, unlikable victims. I kept coming up with Agatha Christie’s titles. So, what follows is a list of Agatha Christie’s most unlikable victims, who had it coming. It would be hard to come up with a single redeeming quality among these victims. They had to go. But who in each of their circles finally snapped? And how did they do it? You’ll have to read the books to find out. And I highly recommend that you do. Simeon Lee from Hercule Poirot’s Christmas Every member of his family has reason to hate Simeon Lee, its elderly, tyrannical multi-millionaire patriarch. His open cheating on his wife broke her spirit and turned at least one of his children against him. The others he brow-beats and controls. He unexpectedly calls them all home for Christmas. Once they’re gathered, his vicious nature surfaces, and he announces his intention to change his will. Unsurprisingly, his murder soon follows. After a collective sigh of relief, the houseguests eye each other with suspicion. One of them must be the murderer. Aristide Leonides from Crooked House One of my favorite Christie mysteries features another overbearing patriarch meeting a bad end. Though this is a pretty twisted family to begin with—all living under the same roof, by the way—Aristide knows how to pull their strings and push their buttons as he plays each family member against the other. He has all the control, and his adult children clearly resent him for it. When he’s murdered, even his second wife isn’t sorry to see him go—until everyone learns he gave control of his fortune to his granddaughter. Still playing one off the other right to the end. Mr. Shaitana from Cards on the Table Shaitaan is Hindi for devil or evil. I’m sure it was no coincidence that Christie devised the name Shaitana for this victim. He’s a wealthy collector who exudes a creepy, sinister aura. He’s flamboyant, social, and completely amoral. When he tells Poirot about his collection of murderers, he explains, “Murder can be an art. Murderers can be artists.” Everyone is careful while around Shaitana, as if they’re defusing a bomb. Anne Meredith, a member of Shaitana’s collection, puts it best. “There’s always something a little frightening about him, I think,” she tells Poirot. “You never know what would strike him as amusing. It might—it might be something cruel.” It is definitely something cruel. Samuel Edward Ratchett from Murder on the Orient Express Samuel Ratchett, aka Lanfranco Cassetti, destroyed countless lives and did some awful things in his former career. Aboard the train, he recognizes Poirot and approaches him. He says he’s received death threats and asks for protection. Poirot, instinctively repulsed by the man, refuses. Ratchett, of course, is murdered. No one is bereft, and there is nothing more I can say without spoiling the book. Mrs. Boynton from Appointment with Death I just realized there weren’t many women in this category, but Mrs. Boynton more than makes up for any lack of quantity with pure vileness. This time Christie created a tyrannical matriarch. Her family includes a daughter and three stepchildren, one of whom refers to her as “a mad dog—something that’s doing harm in the world and must be stopped.” This mother is so loathed that several members of her family discover her body, but thinking another family member probably killed her, just walk on by, failing to report it to the authorities. That’s bad. *** View the full article

Kellye Garrett interviews Cheryl Head about her new novel, Time’s Undoing, a searing and tender novel about a young Black journalist’s search for answers in the unsolved murder of her great-grandfather in segregated Birmingham, Alabama, decades ago—inspired by the author’s own family history. Time’s Undoing is both a passionate tale of one woman’s quest for the truth and, as newfound friends and supporters in Birmingham rally around Meghan’s search, the uplifting story of a community coming together to fight for change. Time’s Undoing is forthcoming on March 7, 2023. Cheryl Head (she/her) writes the award-winning, Charlie Mack Motown Mysteries whose female PI protagonist is queer and black. Head is an Anthony Nominee, two-time Lambda Literary Award finalist, a three-time Next Generation Indie Book Award finalist, and winner of the Golden Crown Literary Society’s Ann Bannon Popular Choice award. In 2019, Head was named to the Hall of Fame of the New Orleans Saints and Sinners Literary Festival, and in 2022 was awarded the Alice B Reader Award. Cheryl is Vice Chair of the national Bouchercon Board of Directors. She lives in Washington, DC with her partner and Abby & Frisby who provide canine supervision. Kellye Garrett is the author of Like A Sister, about a black woman in New York City looking into the mysterious overdose of her estranged reality star sister. The suspense novel was featured on the TODAY show and was a Book of the Month April 2022 selection. The cofounder of Crime Writers of Color also wrote the Detective by Day lightweight mysteries, which have won the Anthony, Agatha, Lefty and IPPY awards. Learn more at KellyeGarrett.com Kellye Garrett: Cheryl! You know I’ve been excited about your new book from the nanosecond you told me you were working on it. Can you describe it in your own words? It’s based on your grandpa, right? Chery Head: That’s right, Kellye. My Grandfather was shot and killed by police in Birmingham Alabama ninety-plus years ago. It’s a tragedy that’s hung over my family for decades, and because of the times (the Jim Crow era) my grandmother and her family were reluctant to call foul for fear of attracting the attention of the Klan. My grandfather’s homicide, and the aftermath, was always discussed in hushed tones and worried scowls, but with few details. I’d thought of writing about my grandfather many, many times, but when George Floyd was killed the universe nudged me again. The novel is told from my grandfather’s perspective in 1929 the year he died, not yet twenty-nine, and from the perspective of a fictional great-granddaughter, a newspaper journalist in 2019, who sets off to Birmingham to solve the mystery surrounding her ancestor’s murder. KG: It’s such a departure from your previous novels, which were all in the Charlie Mack PI series. What was the toughest thing about writing it? CH: The toughest thing about writing Time’s Undoing was to let go of my apprehension about not having many facts; remembering that this book is a work of fiction; and taking the chances I took to make my grandfather a whole, complex, flawed character that I believe readers will care about. KG: Did anything surprise you? CH: Oh yes! During the course of my research for the book, for the first time in nine decades, I found my grandfather’s death certificate. My family had never had it before. My research also uncovered another record that proved my mother’s long-held recollections were true—a newspaper article that confirmed her father was shot by the police. There were more than a few times that I felt my grandfather was guiding me in this work. KG: Like your main character Meghan, you’re from Detroit, are a former journalist and—as we discussed—this is based on your own grandfather. Did you base her on you? How is she the same or different? CH: Meghan and I share some qualities. I think we’re both tenacious and self-directed. Meghan rises to a challenge. I do too. It’s funny you ask this question, Kellye, because as I was writing the book I often felt I was in parallel action with Meghan who was doing the same kind of research I was, as she was carrying out her investigation. It was kind of surreal, and wonderful. KG: I’m sure that helped inform another aspect of the book–the dual timelines. How was it writing about 1929? What was the research process like? I’m curious how your journalism background helped with that. CH: I loved writing the 1929 chapters of the book. Those chapters rolled out so organically. Imagining myself in a segregated black community. Thinking about the relationships, and daily life, and the tactics it took to survive under the draconian laws and rules of Jim Crow. And also thinking of Black joy and Black love. That’s in the book, too. I was all over Ancestry.com and Newspapers.com. I had written another historical fiction novel and I knew there were rich archives of Black newspapers dating back to after the civil war. I spent dozens of hours looking through digital newspapers of the 1920s and 1930s. I know some about the work of news organizations because I was a radio and TV news reporter in Detroit for a while, so I also brought those experiences to the novel’s contemporary storyline. KG: I’m going to have to bug you about your ancestry.com results, but let’s talk about the gorgeous cover. I particularly love the subtle image of the grandfather in her hair. What was the process like for you? Like, for instance, I gave my publisher an eight page single spaced Word doc with images. Please tell me you did the same! CH: Ain’t she pretty!!! Eight pages! I only gave my publisher four pages of images. Ha Ha. I knew I wanted to have a black woman on the cover, and there were several concepts the brilliant designers came up with. I worked with both my editor, Lindsey Rose, at Dutton and my agent, Lori Galvin to vet the ideas. In the end I said I wanted a cover that invoked both protagonists in the novel–my grandfather and his great-granddaughter. But the abstract image was the designer’s idea and I think it does an amazing job of suggesting the ancestral connections and other elements in the novel. KG: Only four? Hmmph. Let’s talk about your journey a bit. Although this is a standalone you’ve written six books in the Charlie Mack series. You initially self published the first book in that series. Like you, Charlie is both queer and Black, which is something we hardly ever see in crime fiction. CH: Yes, that’s right. And unlike a few other crime fiction books featuring Black, lesbian sleuths, Charlie is a professional private investigator–not an amateur, or employed by law enforcement. That’s a distinction I like to make, because that makes the series, with this protagonist, a first. I enjoy writing the series, and because I’m an #ownvoices author, I’m able to riff on a whole bunch of race, queer and social justice issues based on my lived experiences. I have three or more books in that series I want to write because crime fiction is such an accessible way to talk about the foibles of people and institutions. KG: Three or more? I only was able to write two books in my series and was using the same lines so I’m in awe of folks with long series. I love Charlie just as much as I love your writing. I’m glad you’ll be still writing them along with the standalones. Speaking of, you had such a different experience with the new book, which you sold at auction over a few days to Dutton. CH: Oh, I’m glad you love Charlie, and my writing. It’s a great compliment. I took Charlie from a single book to a series because the publisher of Bywater Books asked if I could do so. I was just content to write my first mystery because I love the genre so much. That first book was a Lambda Literary Award finalist. The sixth book in the series just received an Anthony Award nomination. I feel blessed. As for the book auction? I have to admit it was a heady couple of weeks. I needed a lot of hand holding from my agent and friends, like you, to keep me grounded and sensible. But I’m loving the journey because I’m so interested in the backend of things—how publishing works–that I’m like an eight-year-old in a kitchen–learning new recipes, mixing things I know with what I didn’t know, using every dish in the cupboard, and turning on the stove without permission. Ha! View the full article

The Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918 is thought to have killed over 50 million people worldwide. Yet, while the First World War provides the background for countless novels, the pandemic features in very few contemporary fictional accounts. Even modern writers tend to skate over this devastating episode. In Downton Abbey, Spanish Flu seems to last the length of a dinner party, although someone does die (after having been pronounced perfectly healthy by Dr Clarkson, the world’s worst doctor). I thought about this when planning my fourteenth Ruth Galloway novel. The previous book, The Night Hawks, ended in December 2019 so I knew that in the next instalment I had to face the problem of 2020. Should I pretend that Covid-19 had never happened and let Ruth and Nelson get on with their everyday, albeit complicated, lives? Should I set the novel in the future? Surely Covid would be over by, say, 2022? Should I cram all the events into January and February and leave the virus as a dark cloud on the horizon? In the end I decided to cover lockdown and the pandemic. Having written a book about Ruth every year for fourteen years, it somehow seemed wrong to miss out 2020. Some real-life events, like Brexit and Donald Trump becoming US President, had already infiltrated Ruth’s world. I thought that, looking back at the series, I would regret not mentioning the most devastating world crisis of my lifetime. Also I thought that readers might want to know what happened to the characters in lockdown. At the start of The Locked Room, Nelson is scoffing at the thought of hand sanitiser and Cathbad is putting a circle of protection around his cottage. All the sounds very high minded but I have to admit that an evil, writery part of my mind thought: what a great opportunity. All crime writers are obsessed with locked room mysteries, so-called impossible murders where a body is found in a completely inaccessible place. In this book, Nelson is investigating a series of apparent suicides, including one in a room locked from the inside. But, when lockdown started in March 2020, the whole country became one big locked room. I wanted to explore this shared experience and also to highlight the plight of people for whom home was not a safe place. The Locked Room has some light-hearted moments – for example, Ruth’s lockdown shopping list starts ‘Cat Food, Wine’ – but there is darkness too. It has often been noted that lockdown did very strange things to our collective memory. The Locked Room was written in 2021 and 2020, which already seemed a lifetime away. I’ve kept a diary since I was eleven and, during the writing process, I was very grateful for it. I’d made a point of writing every day during March and April 2020, even noting the changing state of Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s hair. I’d forgotten so much. At the start of the pandemic, masks weren’t worn much in England but people wore gloves and disinfected their shopping before bringing it into the house. We stood outside our houses every Thursday night and clapped for the carers even if, as in Ruth’s case, there was no-one to hear. There were daily government briefings, politicians flanked by health experts repeating the words: ‘Stay at home, protect the NHS, save lives’. Of course, we didn’t know then that staff at Number 10 Downing Street were actually engaged in a never-ending stream of parties. Spring 2020 was particularly beautiful or maybe we just appreciated it more. There were endless sunny days. The skies were cloudless and unpolluted by airplanes. Every day I walked through the garden to my writing shed and felt very lucky to have a job to do and a fictional world to escape to. The Night Hawks was the book actually written in lockdown and it’s full of longing for Norfolk, a place that I could then only see on Google Earth. But, even if I couldn’t get to East Anglia, I was lucky enough to be by the sea in Brighton. Every day I took a walk to the beach and felt refreshed. I knew that many people – doctors, nurses, teachers, retail workers – were not able to stroll in the sunshine and guilt was added to the ever-present worry. Because these were dark days, however bright the sun. There was no vaccine and no cure. I stretched things slightly in the book by having a character mention a possible vaccine but, in truth, there seemed no light at the end of the tunnel. People died alone, relatives watched funerals on zoom. We all did what we could to cope. Like Ruth I did yoga and listened to birdsong. Like Ruth I was comforted by my children and my cat. Deciding to write a book is one thing, waiting for the public reaction is another. My publishers were very supportive of the lockdown book but how would readers react? Had everyone had enough of Covid? In the event, reviews were overwhelmingly positive and The Locked Room was my first number one in the Sunday Times bestsellers list. I’m hoping US readers will like it too and enjoy a mystery set during, but not overwhelmed by, unprecedented world events. Will Covid-19, like Spanish Flu, be forgotten by popular culture? It seems that one genre, at least, has risen to the challenge. Several crime writers have set their books during lockdown. Peter May deserves the prize for writing his novel, Lockdown, about a global pandemic, in 2005. At the time, he couldn’t find a publisher for such an outlandish concept, but the book was released, to great acclaim, in 2020. Catherine Ryan Howard’s 56 Days is the story of a couple who meet and are instantly locked down together. It’s brilliantly creepy and claustrophic. One of my favourite writers, Phil Rickman, has just published Book 16 in his Merrily Watkins series. The Fever of the World features Wordsworth, paganism, a dead estate agent – and Covid-19. It’s an unforgettable addition to the series. Like every writing decision, choosing whether or not to include the pandemic is a personal one. But, now that 2020 seems almost as far away as 1918, I’m glad that The Locked Room contains a record of that terrifying, sunny spring. It also allowed me to share my guilt about never quite getting round to baking my own bread. *** View the full article

“How can they call it a detective story? The thing ends like a Monty Python skit where they drop a 16-ton weight on Eric Idle,” I protested. “Edgar Allan Poe is christened the Father of the Detective Story because an escaped orangutan swung into an apartment and smashed the victims apart?” Professor Houtz likely wanted to smash me one in the kisser, but he contented himself with theatrically rolling his eyes and ambling back to the blackboard. It was my final year of high school, and my elderly World Lit instructor was having us college-bound twits read The Murders in the Rue Morgue. The class had collectively shrugged in agreement with me about the cop-out ending—it hadn’t been murder at all but a rampaging gorilla. It would be like getting to the final page of a Michael Connelly novel, only to discover the shadowy villain was a rabid pit bull. Now I stand firmly in the mystery camp. My niche lies in crime fiction. I write mystery/thrillers and I have no problem with our blessed trinity of saints—Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Dashiell Hammett—but I draw the line at Edgar Allan Poe. In this custody battle, I’m afraid I side with our horror-writing brethren. Poe’s twisted soul is the horror genre. Let’s leave aside The Murders in the Rue Morgue and my decades-ago debate with Professor Houtz—can any of you rattle off any other Edgar Allan Poe detective stories? Anybody out there have anything come instantly to mind (and no Googling)? Bueller? Bueller? I’m willing to spot you The Purloined Letter (a love letter has been stolen, blackmail’s afoot, no body count), but beyond Purloined we need to consult Professor Houtz or query a search engine. Rounding out Poe’s trio of detective stories is The Mystery of Marie Roget. In this yarn, Poe’s super sleuth C. Auguste Dupin looks into the evidence surrounding Marie Roget’s disappearance and the subsequent discovery of her body in the Seine, and then hazards a guess at possible explanations. However, there is no closure to this mystery. Readers never know whether Detective Dupin’s various hypotheses are valid or not. Okay class; now raise your hand if you can rattle off any of Edgar Allan Poe’s non-detective stories. Slow down, already, I can only write so fast. Most of Poe’s tip-of-the-tongue tales are horror in nature. The classics that pop immediately to mind include: The Pit and the Pendulum: Prisoner’s descent into madness is hastened along by unseen Inquisitors. The Tell-Tale Heart: Demented caregiver’s descent into madness is hastened along by an ever-loudening heartbeat. The Black Cat: Animal-abusing drunkard’s descent into madness is hastened along by a feline apparition. The Fall of the House of Usher: An inbred’s descent into madness is hastened along by his haunted manor. The Masque of the Red Death: A prince’s descent into madness is hastened along when an uninvited guest wreaks havoc on said prince’s masquerade ball. (A timely tale in the era of Covid.) The Cask of Amontillado: Winsome bricklayer’s descent into madness lapses into remission after his premeditated murder of an elitist knothead. Even Poe’s most famous poetry is grounded in horror, not mystery. Dr. Phil at the top of his game would never be able to save the wretched, brokenhearted bastard in The Raven. Though working in a different medium, Poe covers familiar themes. In this case the narrator’s descent into madness is hastened along by the appearance of an ethereal, talking fowl. “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” Another of Poe’s classic poems—and my personal favorite—Annabel Lee is a melancholy love sonnet of unsettling proportions. After all, is there anything as cosmically horrific as love lost to death? The narrator of the poem condemns the “winged seraphs of heaven” for stealing away his beloved Annabel Lee. The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. ure enough we discover that the narrator’s descent into madness is hastened along by the loss of his “love that was more than love.” For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea. Wow. Powerful stuff. Not too shabby for an alcoholic who married his 13-year old cousin . . . nope, not shabby at all. Yes, us yarn spinners of sleuthing can worship Poe as the father of detective fiction—we can tip back drinks to him at our annual Edgar Awards and fantasize that Poe’s indubitable genius was our genesis—but horror authors see it differently. “Sorry, Sherlock,” they’d respond. “Truth be told . . . Edgar Allan Poe is synonymous for psychological horror fiction . . . he’s one of ours.” Of course the horror writers will spot us our Agathas and Conan Doyles and all the rest—but when it comes to Edgar Allan Poe . . . Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” *** View the full article

In the Robert Altman film, The Player, Tim Robbins stars as Griffin Mill, a big-time Hollywood producer who spends his days listening to pitches from aspiring movie directors and screenplay writers. Mill’s claim to fame? Only 12 out of every 50,000 pitches he hears ever get the studio nod. Why? Because in Hollywood, there are no tales that haven’t previously been told. So the enterprising supplicants package their two-minute story summaries by stringing movie tropes together like rosary beads. A comedic romp about a clueless American who travels to Africa and becomes worshiped as a god by a pagan tribe is pitched as a hybrid of Cactus Flower and Out of Africa. Mill simplifies the pitch by summarizing their project as “Goldie Goes to Africa.” You get the drift. Writing fiction is no exception. If one unique idea succeeds and catches the eye of some weary publisher or literary agent, there soon will be a score—or four score—other novels predicated on the same premise. Witness the rash of zombie novels that proliferated after the publication of Book of the Dead in 1990. For me, that idea jumped the proverbial shark when Pride and Prejudice and Zombies appeared. However, I was forced to to eat my umbrage when that unlikely novel became a runaway bestseller. As Jane Austen herself would wisely have counseled, “Keep your breath to cool your porridge.” Still, the harder we try to reinvent the wheel, the likelier we are to cobble together a flimsy retread of something that went before. This is no disrespect to genre fiction that, by design, is intended to traverse familiar and well-traveled landscapes. You know their names: noir, thriller, police procedural, true crime, detective, cozy—the whole spectrum. But within the exercise of recrafting these well-known tropes, what possibilities for variation exist? How might depth and innovation be achieved while still coloring between the lines? In art and music, achieving this desired but tenuous balance depends on the fusion of disparate aesthetic elements that, together, create a unified expression of beauty. In literature, the intersection of unity and variety work much the same way. In his 2001 New York Times essay, Edmund White referred to Patricia Highsmith’s narcissistic Tom Ripley as “a shape-shifting protagonist who’s up to no good.” By crafting Ripley as a criminal in disguise who is also “a psychological prop to his own self-hatred,” Highsmith seduced a generation of readers to do the unthinkable: root for a bad guy who lies, cheats, and murders his way to wealth and independence. Ripley’s narcissistic attitudes and sense of entitlement drive him to exact vengeance on a society that he jealously believes has wronged him by withholding access to privilege. The world owes him something, and like all the best antiheroes, he stops at nothing to get it. And those of us in the cheap seats cheer him along the way. The five Ripley novels combine to establish Highsmith’s Ripley as the archetypal grifter of the entire mystery genre. These novels tick all the boxes: unreliable narrator, convoluted plots, a multitude of twists and switchbacks, red herrings, gripping suspense, and the skillful manipulation of a limited point of view that hides essential information from the reader. Yet within those constraints, Highsmith managed to craft a series of psychological thrillers that straddle a world of darkness and insanity—and foreshadow the ascendency of a smoldering morass of social issues that dominate our political discourse today. There are innumerable ways we all can capitalize on Highsmith’s experiment. We can start by presenting a unique take on our chosen genre. We can dare to be bold enough to turn convention on its head by taking advantage of skillful storytelling that contemplates society, morality/immorality, and other reflective subjects. As a step toward doing this, we can reference some of the classics that laid the groundwork for the mystery genre today—books written by stalwarts like Highsmith or Agatha Christie. We can study their willingness to pursue offbeat settings, complicated narratives, and disturbing portraits of violence. Agatha Christie was never afraid of adopting avant-garde approaches to the detective genre. She was a master at confounding her readers with unreliable narrators, criminals who cavalierly escaped justice, or even a murder case in which every suspect was guilty. She happily embraced such bold departures from the prescribed tropes that defined such tales. Take a gander at the offerings of any bookstore, online retailer, or library and you’ll notice that every book, graphic novel, or video has been handily linked with other titles by a seemingly endless, and frequently incongruous, string of key words that seek to categorize content. This happens because the marketplace perception is that readers demand specificity, don’t like surprises, and want to know what to expect. We’re led to believe they want assurance that the chick-lit-beach-read-billionaire-Amish & Mennonite-rom-com they just purchased won’t surprise them with the appearance of a homicidal axe murderer lurking behind a sand dune. Therefore, our challenge—if we dare embrace it—is to strive to craft genre stories that satisfy, but still manage to push the limitations of their labels. To quote Quotidian Writer, Diane Callahan, “it isn’t as if ‘the rules’ of [writing] genre are set in stone. No one has officially decreed that hard-boiled detective novels can’t break the fourth wall, or that sweeping period romances can’t also involve space assassins. And these books do more than simply mash two popular genres together: they force us to question the way we think about genre in the first place.” Callahan’s point is perfectly illustrated by the Italian novelist, Italo Calvino. His experiential novel, If on a winter’s night a traveler steadfastly refuses to be one single genre—or even one single story. The protagonist of the novel is you (the reader), and you are trying to read Italo Calvino’s If on a winter’s night a traveler. But every time you turn a page, you find yourself deep inside a different book entirely. What results is a nothing less than a meta-fictional tour de force that explodes practically every trope and fiction genre out there. Yet, no matter how much we inveigh against it, genre fiction and literary fiction continue to wage war with each other. Genre fiction is indicted for being simplistic and formulaic, while literary fiction is damned for being self-important and dense. This tired and ageless debate has raged on for so long, its denizens of undead rival the numbers of zombies drifting in and out of Jane Austen’s drawing rooms. Sadly, it remains true that in most literary circles, genre books come with a caveat—which writer Neil Gaiman once colorfully described in an interview: “By the time fantasy had its own area in the bookshop, it was deemed inferior to mimetic, realistic fiction . . . I was fascinated by the way that Terry Pratchett would, on the one hand, have people like A S Byatt going, ‘These are real books, they’re saying important things and they are beautifully crafted,’ and on the other he would still not get any real recognition. I remember Terry saying to me at some point, ‘You know, you can do all you want, but you put in one fucking dragon and they call you a fantasy writer.’” So it goes. And because chickens come home to roost, I’ll share that a publicist once summarized a mystery of mine as “The Big Chill meets Fried Green Tomatoes by way of A River Runs Through It.” I can live with that . . . *** View the full article

This Rec League comes from Bel. Thanks, Bel! I’ve recently read and loved Drawn That Way and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay–extremely different books in terms of tone and setting, I know , but something I really enjoyed about both books was the detail about the characters’ crafts (animation and comics, respectively) and all the character design and storytelling that came with it. This might be a weirdly specific ask/reading mood to be in at the moment, but are there any other novels featuring, for lack of a better term, narrative artists? Cartoonists, graphic novelists, animators, maybe video game designers? And hopefully featuring romance and HEAs? Thank you so much! Amanda: Level Up by Cathy Yardley ( A | BN | K | G | AB ) and Even Odds by Elia Winters ( A | BN | K | G | AB ) have video game designers and developers. A | BN | K | AB Sarah: There’s a historical mystery series with a heroine who draws satirical cartoons under a pen name – the Wrexford and Sloane series by Andrea Penrose, starting with Murder on Black Swan Lane. And the titular Anatomist’s Wife by Anna Lee Huber ( A | BN | K | G | AB ) is an illustrator and artist. But it sounds like this reader is thinking more in terms of contemporary. Claudia: Would Love Lettering qualify? She’s not a narrative artist per se but i remember the heroine is really into getting to know her customers before she works on their calligraphy projects. Sneezy: Loathe at First Sight ( A | BN | K | AB ) has a video game developer protagonist, but the misogyny in the video game industry does take up a chunk of the story. The webtoon The Lady with a Mask def works. The protagonist is a children’s book author and illustrator and secretary to her boss. Trigger warning for death, grief, and shitty toxic family, though the last takes up very little of the story What romances would you recommend? Tell us below! View the full article

At a "Stranger Things" experience in NYC. Years ago, I attended a children’s writing conference where an agent begged the audience to please not write about the time we grew up in. While I could see what she meant by the advice, I also got a good response later that year when I sent the opening pages of a middle grade novel to an editor I’d met at the same conference. In the words of the editor, my story about a girl who traveled back in time to the 1980s to meet the childhood version of her favorite teacher “had an intriguing premise,” but I hadn’t quite nailed the voice of the protagonist yet. I’ve begun noticing a trend of bringing back pop culture from 10, 20, even 30 years ago, especially in books, movies, and TV shows. Last summer I read a suspense/thriller novel by an author named Riley Sager called “Survive the Night.” Part of the reason I decided to purchase the novel was because it took place in 1991 and featured a protagonist looking for a ride share home from college. There were no cell phones, George H.W. Bush was president, and Nirvana ruled the airwaves. As a reader who spent my high school and college years in the 1990s, the setting and time period appealed to me. I remember going to the movie theater in the summer of 1993 to see the original “Jurassic Park” and being horrified watching Michael Crichton’s science-fiction novel come to life on the screen. Four movies later, “Jurassic World Dominion (featuring many of the same actors that graced the original) had the second-biggest opening weekend of the year just behind “Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.” My husband was beyond excited to finally get to see “Top Gun: Maverick,” as he can recite every line from the original, and we both agreed the filmmakers really cashed in on the nostalgia of the film by using so much of the music we loved from the first soundtrack and well, I won’t spoil anything else if you’re still planning on seeing it. After the last few years we’ve had, I can understand the joy of seeing things from my childhood and teen years come back around again. I got hooked on the Netflix series “Stranger Things” more for the nostalgic angle than the science-fiction plot lines. I love seeing the clothing the characters will be wearing and which pop culture items will be lurking in the background of each scene (kudos to Kate Bush and the revitalization of her 1985 song, “Running Up That Hill) from the current season. Nostalgia is the reason why classic car collectors spend years looking for a specific car they have fond memories tied to. It’s why the “Forrest Gump” and its original motion picture soundtrack became so popular in 1994. Indulging in nostalgia connects our emotions to memories. It brings us together collectively. It helps sharpen our minds. It gives our lives new meaning. I think I might be ready to polish off that time traveling young girl from a 1980s summer camp story. Maybe with a little work, it could be the escapism some kids are looking for. Have you written anything from a time period you grew up in? What was the response like? What are some of your favorite time periods for books and movies to be set in? Renee Roberson is an award-winning writer and editor who also produces the true crime podcast, Missing in the Carolinas.(C) Copyright wow-womenonwriting.com Visit WOW! Women On Writing for lively interviews and how-tos. Check out WOW!'s Classroom and learn something new. Enter the Quarterly Writing Contests. Open Now![url={url}]View the full article[/url]

Point of view issues keep more otherwise sellable authors from selling their work than nearly any other problem. That’s why as an agent, author, and writing teacher, I always caution my clients, fellow writers, and students to play it safe when it comes to POV. And yet every once in a while I come across a story whose author threw caution to the wind so splendidly I am tempted to play around with point of view myself. If you find yourself so inclined, read on. FIRST, THE RULES As Picasso reminded us, “Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.” Here are the POV rules you need to observe long enough to master them before you break them: 1) No omniscient POV. (It’s considered old-fashioned these days, at least here in the U.S.) 2) When writing first-person, stick to one POV per book. 3) When writing third-person: a) Stick to third-person close; b) Use only one POV per scene; c) Use no more than five POVs per book; and d) The protagonist’s POV should predominate. A caveat: The following explores how a few bestselling authors far more skilled than I—and probably you, too—took POV risks that worked big-time. So if this your first rodeo, you’re better off writing by the aforementioned rules. But sooner or later, regardless of your skill level, you’re going to want to break the rules. When you do, remember these examples of stories where the novelists’ POV gambles paid off. FIRST-PERSON PLURAL POV In two of my favorite novels of all time, the authors use first-person plural POV (we/us). In The Jane Austen Book Club, Karen Joy Fowler writes the story from the book club’s point of view. The book club members meet every month to discuss a Jane Austen novel, with unpredictable consequences for them all. (This 2004 novel is a must for all Austen fans; the film adaptation’s is fun, too, if not particularly faithful.) Here’s the opening: Each of us has a private Austen. Jocelyn’s Austen wrote wonderful novels about love and courtship, but never married. The book club was Jocelyn’s idea, and she handpicked the members…. We suspected a hidden agenda, but who would put Jane Austen to an evil purpose? Irresistible, and we the readers fall in love with the literary, gossipy voice. The same is true for Unlikely Animals, Annie Hartnett’s second novel, published just last month. A sort of “Our Town meets Alice Hoffman with a touch of John Irving,” this wonderful novel is written from the point of view of the dead people in the cemetery of the small New Hampshire town where the story is set. Which may sound morbid, but is not, as you can see from the opening lines: Maple Street Cemetery Everton, NH 43.3623° N, 72.1662° W Years later, when people in Everton would tell this story, they would say it was Clive Starling who called the reporter, the way that man loved attention. But we remember the way it happened…. Again, irresistible. We want to hear the real story, as told by the dearly departed, who know this town—past and present—better than anyone. SECOND-PERSON POV This POV (you/you) is rare, at least from my point of view. Only one immediately came to mind—Bright Lights, Big City, by Jay McInerney. This 1984 novel grabs readers from the very beginning, promising a ride as wild as the Eighties: You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this hour of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. And we’re off on the journey with McInerney, because we’re not that kind of guy either….and yet. OMNISCIENT POV Omniscient point of view is “Author as God.” Think 19th century novels, and fairy tales: Once upon a time there was a girl…. “Author as God” has fallen out of fashion in the 21st century, most notably in the United States. You still see it sometimes, especially in science fiction, fantasy, historical fiction, and literary fiction. No one does it better than Alice Hoffman, who writes modern-day fairy tales, a kind of “Yankee magic realism,” a literary legacy she has attributed to Nathaniel Hawthorne. You can see why in the opening to Practical Magic, the 1995 novel I reread whenever I’m feeling blue: For more than two hundred years, the Owens women have been blamed for everything that has gone wrong in town. If a damp spring arrived, if cows in the pasture gave milk that was runny with blood, if a colt died of colic or a baby was born with a red birthmark stamped onto his cheek, everyone believed that fate must have been twisted, at least a little, by those women over on Magnolia Street. Hoffman has us at “the Owens women.” The scope and timelessness of the novel are part of its attraction, and the omniscient POV helps her establish both. MULTIPLE FIRST-PERSON POV Conventional wisdom has it that if you’re writing first-person point of view, you should stay with that one POV for the entire novel, if only so readers know whose head they’re in the whole time. Mixing it with third-person is tricky enough, but using more than one first-person point of view can be very confusing for readers if it’s not done with finesse. But when Gillian Flynn used his-and-her first-person points of view in her blockbuster thriller Gone Girl, writers took note—and we’ve been flooded with multiple first-person novels ever since. As an agent, I see a lot of them, and mostly it doesn’t work. Gillian Flynn made it work, by making the voices of the husband and wife characters very different—and by first introducing the wife’s POV through diary entries. The diary entries not only help the reader remember who’s who, but in Flynn’s capable hands, they also serve as a clever plot device. Speaking of devices, Maria Semple’s Where’d You Go, Bernadette is a master class in these tools. This book club favorite, technically told from the first-person point of view of an eighth grader named Bee, opens with Bee’s report card, just one of the dozens of devices Semple uses over the course of the story that become, in effect, other POVs. (For more, see the full list in my book on story openings, The Writer’s Guide to Beginnings. MULTIPLE THIRD-PERSON CLOSE POV Nobody breaks the rules as beautifully as George R. R. Martin. When to my chagrin one of my clients changed points of view half a dozen times in the opening of her novel and cited A Game of Thrones as her model, I went right to my copy of the epic fantasy. And yes, in the first fifty pages alone, Martin changes points of view at least five times (the conservative limit for an entire book). But it’s neither choppy nor confusing—it’s brilliant. Martin keeps the reader reading, through the skilled use of compelling action, likable POV characters, and clear links from one chapter to the next. I was so thrilled by his masterful handling of POV that I sat down and wrote a detailed analysis of his opening for my client (which you’ll also find in The Writer’s Guide to Beginnings). So it can be done, and done effectively, but most easily if you’re George R. R. Martin. I’m just saying. GO FOR IT For the record, I still say it’s risky to break the POV rules, especially if you’re writing your debut. But ultimately, all writing is risky. And the more we write, the more challenges we like to present ourselves. Point of view may be one of the challenges you take on in your next work. I have the terrible feeling it may be in mine. But as we’ve seen, other writers have met that challenge with grace and grit.

Here’s what not to say. (And yes, these are real lines from real-life pitches.) #1 My villain is so bad he kills the dog. It’s almost impossible to sell a book in which a dog (cat, horse, etc.) is killed. I’m just saying. #2a My hero dies in the end. Readers want your hero to survive his trials and tribulations, overcome the obstacles you put in his way, and become a better version of himself. #2b My heroine dies in the end. It’s a series. No, someone else can’t take her place in Book 2. If you’ve done your job right, readers have fallen in love with your heroine. They want her back in Book 2. #3 I can’t find any comparable titles. You need comps to prove there’s an audience for your book. And these should be recent comps by up-and-coming writers—not blockbusters by bestselling authors. #4 I know you don’t represent picture books, but you’ll want to represent mine. No, I won’t. And you don’t want an agent who doesn’t know the category anyway. #5 There are no murders in my mystery. Murder mysteries need murder. The sooner you drop the first body, the better. #6 I’m saving that for the second book. If you don’t sell the first book, there is no second book. Go for broke in your first book. Don’t “save” anything for the next book. #7 I know you told me last year that I should rethink using a dozen points of view, but I still think it works. I won’t represent any debut novels with more than five POVs, and I’m not the only agent who feels this way. #8 The bad guy accidentally dies in the end. Accidentally? The antagonist must get his just desserts—and if he dies, it can’t be an accident. His death must come as a result of his own villainy, even better if it’s at the hands of your hero. #9a I don’t write in Microsoft Word. Microsoft Word is industry standard for submissions. No Scrivener, no Pages, no PDFs. #9b I could convert my document to Microsoft Word for you but the formatting will be off. It’s your job to submit your work in a professional manner. Anything less marks you as an amateur. #10 It’s 1000 pages. I don’t know the number of words. Word count is what matters. For most genres, aim for 90,000 words. Too short or too long and odds are you won’t sell it. If you don’t tell us the word count, we’ll ask.