Mysterious Matters: Mystery Publishing Demystified

Writing the Police Novel: Keep It Unexpected

I was going to title this post "Writing the Police Procedural," because I am a traditional kind of guy.  I think the term procedural has fallen by the wayside, however, because it connotes a book heavy on legwork/forensic detail and light on characterization.  

I have to say, I think the police book is at a crossroads.  Looking at the types of books that are really selling these days, I can't say that I see a lot of straight police stories, along the lines of what Dell Shannon, Georges Simenon, and Ed McBain did.   The lack of such books may seem counterintuitive, given TV's obsession with CSI and Law & Order-type shows.  This may be just the ebbs and flows of the market, or it may have to do with increasing resentment of police in many areas of the country.  From what I understand, different cities/counties/areas have widely differing perceptions of their police forces.  New York City police are generally considered friendly and helpful, Los Angeles police quite the opposite. 

That said, I still do see plenty of queries and police-based manuscripts, so today's installment will be my two cents on writing the police novel.

1. WOW US WITH TECHNOLOGY.  Certainly law-enforcement agencies have developed a pretty amazing, and interesting, set of tools to aid them in bringing perps to justice.  We've moved far beyond the Identi-Kit and into DNA analysis, crime scene computer simulations, international databases, and the like.  The more interesting police novels I've seen lately take advantage of opportunities to impress the reader with some of these technologies and how they work.  Of course, the novel shouldn't devolve into a technical textbook.  And the technology itself does offer good opportunities to explore social and ethical issues, as well as character-based development.  For instance, in most police forces there is the "old guard" and the young Turks; the availability of technology offers the older set the ability to solve crimes based on good, old-fashioned policing skills and show the young hotshots a thing or two (and this is but one example).

2. GIVE US SOME CREATIVE CRIMES.  By "creative crimes," I'm not talking about some crazed serial killer who leaves a bizarre calling card (such as an exotic species of tulip, or a page from an 18th century novel--you get the picture) with each disemboweled body.  I mean crimes that seem to have no rhyme or reason, no motive, no easy suspects.  The late great Dell Shannon always managed to work in a crazy crime among the rapes, murders, and stabbings: in Cold Trail, for example, she tried her hand at a locked-room mystery; and in Felony at Random she had a case in which an unknown tipster keeps turning in the same hapless man as the perp for any crime committed in the city of Los Angeles.  For those who read crime fiction, the typical crimes can become part of the scenery; Shannon understood the need to shake it up. As Ms. Shannon herself once wrote, "If my fictional people seem to see more offbeat cases than real-life police officers do, well, first and foremost, fiction's purpose is to entertain the reader."

3. WORK WITH AN ENSEMBLE.  While a strong central character is a must, a good supporting cast can really make the book work (and provide you with ample plotlines for a series).  I'd like to see the supporting cast move beyond the usual types--you know, the wise-cracking girl in the file department; the morbid weirdos who work in the morgue or the M.E.'s office; the tough, world-weary cookies who work in Forensics.  One of Shannon's cops was a devout Christian, which brought an interesting perspective to some cases.  And Steve Carella's wife was deaf, which added depth and interest to the Carellas' relationship.  

4. EXPLORE THE DARK SIDE.  Something that Shannon never really did - or McBain either, if memory serves - was explore why these people chose to become cops or detectives.  Where I live, for example, a lot of people do it for the salary, the benefits, and the early retirement age.  There's not much desire to serve the public or see justice done, but there is a lot of politicking for benefits and salary increases.  I'm not suggesting that all cops are like this, but some are -- and this type of conflict (between those who do it because they're justice-oriented, and those who do it because it's the family business) could make for some provocative reading.  And let's not forget, too, that some cops (again, not all) are bullies on a power trip, or have entered the force because they have authority issues, and so on.  Mixing up the various types in your fiction can have explosively good results.

5. DON'T GET OVERLY BROODY.  A lot of today's cops are depressive/depressed loners, sometimes alcoholics or drug addicts.  A little of that is fine, but I don't think that depression keeps a lot of readers coming back for more.  I think one can write serious crime fiction without it becoming a morass of sadness with no rays of light.  The guys of the LAPD and the 87th precinct had their share of laughs and wackiness over the years; and I can't think of too many jobs where people don't find a way to share some fun.  

6. BRING CLOSURE.  This is true for all of crime fiction, not just police books.  Ambiguous endings can be good, but for a lot of people, I think they are a source of frustration.  Most readers do need to see the main plot resolved and tied up with a neat little bow, in order to feel that they haven't been gypped.  I think there can be subplots that go from book to book in a series, but that the book's main plot must be resolved by the final page.  Though he's not a police novelist, F. Paul Wilson, author of the Repairman Jack series, does a nice job with this.  Each book has some supernatural elements that follow Jack from book to book, but the main crime to be solved in each novel is completely taken care of by the end. Look, too, at Eve Dallas and Roarke - after 30 or so "In Death" books, we're still learning about Eve and Roarke's pasts.  But the main crime is brought to a satisfactory resolution in each and every book.

7. DO YOUR RESEARCH.  Just as there is no excuse for sloppy policework (criminals get off because of it), there's no excuse for sloppy research if you're going to right about police and their procedures. There are plenty of good books out there to help you with the details; and in most cases, local police forces will be happy to answer your questions.  Please get the details of the court system right, as well as things like the Miranda warning and what types of searches/seizures are legal and which are not.  

Writing the Amateur Sleuth: Keep It Believable

I like to call amateur sleuth books the "nosy person's subgenre."  These are books for the inveterately curious among us, those who love gossiping, digging below the surface, and finding out information that really is none of our business.  It's the genre for those of us who won't take no for an answer, who become only more tenacious in our investigations when we think people are withholding information from us.  We lovers of amateur sleuths have strong egos--we think of ourselves as being more intelligent than the criminal, and having more savoir faire than the police.  Those ham-fisted public servants have nothing on us, as they are clearly going about their investigations incorrectly.  WE will show them a thing or two. 

This admittedly broad profile of the reader of amateur sleuth books does create its challenges for those who choose to write the books.  More than in any of the other subgenres, readers are looking for a protagonist who can be their alter ego.  We want the protag to be likable but not a pushover; adventurous but not stupid; wise-cracking but not sarcastic; intelligent but down to earth.  Because we so willingly make ourselves the main character, we can become sensitive to matters that create cognitive dissonance.  How DARE she take her two-timing boyfriend back?  WE would never do that!  How COULD she go into that deserted crack house by herself?  WE never would do such a thing, as we are much too intelligent for that.  

Such expectations are, of course, unspoken--until the reviews come out.  Thus, with a mind toward not only getting the interest of an agent and/or publisher, as well as getting decent reviews, I offer this week's tips for writing the amateur sleuth book.

1. TRY FIRST PERSON.  I know a lot has been written about publishers' supposed preferences for third-person vs. first-person narratives.  Frankly, I think it's a lot of bunk.  Opinions are as varied as the acquiring editors.  However, I do think that the amateur sleuth book often benefits from a first-person narrative.  Perhaps we've come to expect it, thanks to Kinsey and Stephanie.  But I think the reason is deeper than that.  The "I" of the narrator brings the reader closer to the main character, better helping the reader live vicariously through the narrator.  This is not to say that a third-person story can't work; rather, it's to say that first person does work very nicely in this subgenre.

2. NAIVE, YES; STUPID, NO.  I feel confident in saying that readers (whether professional reviewers or non-professionals who post on Amazon) have almost zero patience with actions they consider "stupid." Certainly, on an amateur's first outing as a "detective," we can expect him or her to make some mistakes based more on naivete, or lack of experience, than on a lack of intelligence.  But it's essential that you not allow your protag to do something that the average reader would consider dumb.  A villain can make a dumb mistake that leads to his or her exposure; and supporting characters can do the same.  But remember that your reader sees him/herself in the protag and will lose patience (sometimes quite angrily) when you let your sleuth do something inane.

3. THROW IN SOME ROMANCE.  The amateur sleuth subgenre is particularly well suited to burgeoning romance.  It's almost an expectation, so I'd say throw it in and make it fun.  Romances based on conflict are usually enjoyable (you know, of the "God, I can't stand that arrogant, stuck-up, extremely handsome and sexy man" school of flirtation), and these are generally preferable to the sickly sweet "Love is a many-splendoured thing" romances.  Falling for the local cop, sheriff, DA, or other law enforcement official is quite all right, and it allows you friends in high places for the future books in your series.  I wouldn't mind seeing some unexpected types of romances (perhaps sassy heroine falls in love with a janitor?), but I'd rather have cop love than none at all.

4. CONSIDER A SIDEKICK.  For a while, our amateur sleuths tended to be loners.  We're now more in an era of friendship, I think.  Just consider what's on TV and in the movies--everything revolves around a group of friends, who love, laugh, fight, etc.  You need at least a few good supporting cast members, who can serve as your foils, give you new or additional perspective, knock you down a few pegs, and do all those other things that people do.  Having a sidekick helps you cover more ground, too, allowing you to be in two places at once.  In the old days, the sidekick existed to make the sleuth seem more brilliant in comparison (think Hastings, Watson), but today's sidekicks can have strong personalities of their own.  

5. MAKE IT BELIEVABLE.  It's essential that your amateur get involved in the case for a reason other than idle curiosity.  The amateur sleuth has to be tenacious, especially in the face of danger or threats, which is why s/he needs a good reason to get involved and stay involved.  It helps if the sleuth is investigating something personal--like the death of a beloved aunt, or the kidnaping of a neighbor child.  This involvement allows for more authentic emotion in the book; and catharsis is a strong need of mystery readers, regardless of the subgenre.  What I find is that early books in a series usually do have this personal element, which then dries up or devolves into a doorbell ringing and a stranger saying, "Oh, Prunella, you don't know me, but my fifth cousin 45 times removed tells me that you help people solve mysteries, and I really need your help."

6. INCLUDE SOME ACTION.  It's tempting, I think, to make the amateur sleuth engage in the basic legwork in which all detectives take part, and then have her have an epiphany that leads her to the criminal.  This gets back to the believability aspect I've been stressing.  Sleuthing can be a dangerous business, which is why the cops (and the professional detectives) carry guns.  If you're asking questions of the wrong people and you are perceived as an interfering busybody--and you WILL be perceived that way--people are going to threaten you, maybe even try to hurt you.  These are good opportunities to bring some pulse-pounding action into your book.  And rare is the book that doesn't benefit from such a scene.  Why?  Because readers like them, and so do editors.

Writing the Hardboiled: Keep It Edgy

I think most critics of crime fiction would argue that the hardboiled offers the most potential for "literary" merit.  Those whose names are spoken with the most reverence (e.g., Michael Connelly, Andrew Vachss, Minette Walters) are often those writing in the hardboiled subgenre, perhaps because the hardboiled is willing to look at the truly seamy side of life, and serves as a sort of lurid tabloid for those who would look down their noses at People magazine.

It's tough to bring off the hardboiled well, because I don't think they're ever an easy sell at the checkout counter.  Some hardboiled writers have compensated for this by developing series characters, and I don't think that's a bad idea.  But more than any of the other subgenres, the hardboiled requires a delicate balancing act.  Herewith today's tips on writing the hardboiled well.

1. GO TO AN UGLY PLACE.  We all know murder is ugly, but that fact is effectively obscured in cozies and books featuring amateur sleuths.  People pick up a hardboiled because they want to be challenged.  A good hardboiled is a ten-car pileup on the expressway:  People don't want to look for fear of what they'll see, but they feel compelled to look (i.e., keep reading).  I think the car wreck analogy works for other reasons as well:  When we pass that accident, we want to know how it happened, what caused it; the same is true for the crimes in the hardboiled.  And we slow down to look as a sort of cautionary tale.  We know that could happen to us if we're not careful, and we're looking to learn something from it.

2. WALK THE LINE BETWEEN DISTURBING AND GRUESOME.  While many of the crimes/sins/peccadilloes/parts of human nature that disturbed earlier generations (out-of-wedlock births, embezzlement, extramarital affairs, homosexuality) are now seen as no big deal, there are still some taboos: pedophilia, child abuse, sex slaving, rape, and so on.  The hardboiled writer has to find a way to tell a story about something disturbing without getting into the grisly.  I firmly believe that even the hardest of hardboiled readers does not want grisly scenes depicting torture (which seem to have become, sad to say, a staple in today's thrillers).  An effective hardboiled depicts such scenes in broad strokes, which is more effective because imagined horrors are much worse than anything shown in living color (just ask Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft).  As an editor I'm open minded, but I don't want any manuscripts that are the equivalent of the torture porn in today's horror movies.

3. HAVE A MORAL CENTER.  A book of bad people doing bad things to one another doesn't make for very interesting reading if at least one character doesn't have some sort of moral center, some sense of right and wrong.  Now, this moral center may be warped or misguided, but it's important to have a character the reader can root for (unless you're writing satire, which is another discussion entirely).  This is why there's something so viscerally effective about a revenge tale.  If you're the parent of a murdered child and you go about systematically exterminating everyone involved in her death, you may be out of your mind with grief but you're sympathetic.  

4. COME UP FOR AIR.  Some of the hardboiled manuscripts I read are so relentlessly dark that I feel as though I'm trapped in the well with that poor kidnapped girl from The Silence of the Lambs.    It's true that there are those who live in a world completely void of laughter, but it's too much of a human need for people to do without it for long.  I'm not saying to add scenes of comedic genius to your tale of a brutalized spouse; I'm saying to please consider your readers and give them a break from the gloom every so often, so that they don't grimace each time they pick up your book.  I think of the film Precious and how well this was accomplished; each time the protagonist encounters brutality, she goes to a place in her head of happiness and joy, where she's the lead singer for a rockband, where she has a handsome boyfriend, and so forth.  

5. DON'T MAKE A TWISTED FREAK YOUR HERO.  Dexter notwithstanding, it is a really bad idea to ask your readers to root for a psychopath with no redeeming values.  This was a terrible sin committed by Thomas Harris in Hannibal, which asks the reader to root for Hannibal himself in his duel with another sick piece of human filth.  You really shouldn't do this to your readers, who (if they read crime fiction) are likely to have at least a sense of justice and/or moral outrage.  

6. GET JUSTICE SERVED.  This is an important need in most crime fiction, but I would argue that it's particularly important in the hardboiled.  The easy way to mete out justice is to have your villain get killed in the final confrontation with the good guy.  This is certainly cathartic, for who hasn't cheered when a real baddie has been blown away with a shotgun?  But there are other ways to dole out justice that are even more poetic; and let's not forget the moral development occurs when a protag makes the decision not to kill someone.  

7. DO YOUR RESEARCH.  It's pretty easy to get away with a lack of research in a cozy or amateur detective book, but I think the hardboiled does require a bit more research into the underworld, statistics, the psychology of crime, and the sociology of the urban setting where so many of these books take place.  You probably don't have to visit a crackhouse to describe one properly, but you should certainly watch news clips and documentaries about them.  An interesting but bleak study of urban environments--a non-fiction hardboiled about families in a poor section of the Bronx--is Random Family by Adrian LeBlanc.

8. WORK WITH CONTRASTS.  We know something only by its opposite, so the best way to put the brutality of the hardboiled in relief is to put it alongside its opposite.  Think of the TV series Oz, which threw an upper-middle-class white man into a prison filled with hardened criminals.  Having a naive, sheltered, or moral character come up against those who are without morals or ethics is extremely effective in print; so too is having a worldview shaken up by a brush with the seamier side.   

Writing the Cozy: Keep It Delightful

Given how much I've been thinking about the subgenres lately, I have decided to do a series of posts on my philosophies (opinions?) regarding the writing and publishing of each.  I'd like to look at what makes the entries in a particular subgenre work for the reader (and publisher) or not.  The following observations are based on observed sales patterns, listening to/reading Internet chatter in various listservs, talking to readers and librarians, and so forth.  Do with these tips as you will.  Today I introduce...

THE COZY: A PLEASURABLE ESCAPE WITH MURDER

There is something wonderful about a good cozy, which is the ultimate in escapist reading.  Lately I've seen some attempts at more "edgy" cozies, and I don't think they work, really.  People look to cozies to give them a sense of an alternate, cuter, more comfy world.  The murder (or other crime, but usually murder) thus is mostly a plot device on which to hang the antics of the characters and various social groups, such as the local parsonage, the bed-and-breakfast, the library, or the county historic preservation bureau.

What makes a good cozy?  Well, here goes.

1. SUBURBS/THE COUNTRY ARE BETTER THAN THE CITY.  While we have a good many devoted urbanites in our world, there's no denying the romance of the country, where meandering streams and quaint old architecture provide that much-needed feeling of escape.  Of course, as a less-populated locale, the country or the village is bound to have fewer people to witness the crime, which makes for good sleuthing and quaint settings as the detective goes about his or her business.  I think many city people think about escaping to the city, but few suburbanites/countrydwellers think about escaping to the city - in fact, when they do visit the city, they are usually very happy to be home afterwards.  Since a cozy is all about escape, give them a nice place to escape to.  Even in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency books, which are set in Gaborone, Botswana - a city - Precious and J.L.B. go back to their very clearly suburban home.

2. IT'S ALL ABOUT FRIENDSHIP.  A cozy isn't the place for a loner detective.  Whether we're city dwellers or country dwellers, we're all saddled with annoying, dramatic, needy, or just plan infuriating families. Our escape from our families is our friends, and the cozy protag needs to have a nice network of friends, along the lines of the women in Sex and the City.  The friendships need not be syrupy or dull; certainly friends can and do (and should) serve as foils or reality checks to one another.  Having that sense of friendship/community is part of the cozy mystique; and in the cozy series that the supporting cast is particularly important.

3. LOW ON THE VIOLENCE, PLEASE.  Yes, of course we need a good murder, maybe even a few of them to keep the plot moving along.  These should generally take place off stage - I don't think cozy readers particularly like sense of torture (as in some of the more lurid thrillers).  When central to the plot, a description is acceptable, but I find this is usually best done in a clinical context, with the sleuth reading a medical examiner's report, or having the wounds described in non-purple prose.  Remember, violence is too much of an ugly reality to have a major place in the cozy, escapist world of the cozy.

4. FLIRTING, YES; SEX, NO.  COLORFUL LANGUAGE, YES; PROFANITY, NO.  Think of the cozy cast as being a bit like the kids of High School Musical or some other non-threatening fare.  Certainly everyone likes a bit of flirting, a game of cat-and-mouse, misunderstandings, and all those other unavoidable things that are part of the love quest.  The chase, as we all know, is much more fun than the conquest (for readers, at least--and I would argue for the players as well); as Keats said, "Heard melodies are sweet/ Those unheard are sweeter."  Sex is a messy, messy thing; much too complicated for the cozy.  If intimacy happens (as between an old married couple, though really - who wants to see THAT?), keep it offstage, with the violence (preferably not in the same place).  As for profanity, remember we are in the delightful world of the cozy. Readers don't want a lot of reality intruding via streams of four-letter words.  I know this whole profanity thing is a huge source of controversy -- novelists can, and do, go on for paragraphs, pages, months, years -- about why their characters curse.  They'll do what they want, of course, but if I'm reading a cozy manuscript and I see profanity, the first thing I'm thinking about is how I'd edit it all out.

5. A GOOD CRAZY HELPS.  In a city, the local crazy person is a sort of scary threat...I don't know too many urban dwellers who make it a habit of engaging in delightful conversations with the homeless.  But in the much "safer" world of the country village, a good eccentric provides humor, opportunities for cryptic-but-oh-so-revealing pronouncements, and the like.  I also think that cozies somehow allow for a bit more of the supernatural - you know, local legends, sightings of apparitions on the moors, wandering spirits.  The bit o' supernatural (never necessary, but sometimes fun) usually adds to the sense of place and history and can make for some fun moments, as long as the cozy itself doesn't turn into a weird sort of book that starts out grounded in reality and ends up on the astral plane by the end.

6. CONTROL THE SUGAR.  There's sometimes a tendency for writers to make their cozies into saccharine, syrupy reads that induce cavities and cringing.  I mean, a protagonist named Mimi with two French poodles named Fifi and Pipi, living in a village called Petit Paris sur Mer is probably too much for even the fluffy set to take.  Love is nice, but it really doesn't need to be dripping off every page of your manuscript; let's not forget that a cozy is not only NOT utopian, in some ways it is subversively dystopian.  Negative emotions and acts are as common in the country as in the city; the cozy detective's job is to uncover the truth behind the veneer, which is exactly what elevates a good cozy into a crime novel.

As always, don't wear out your welcome.  Keep it tight, fast, pleasant (even with those messy murders included), and leave us wanting more.  Think of the cozy as a vacation setting.  We love going there for a week each year, but if we had to live there, we'd probably be bored, and get tired of it real fast.

   

First Chapter Boo-Boos

Does the buying public judge a book by its cover?  Sometimes.  Do they judge a book by its first chapter?  Yes, and so do editors.

I really can't overemphasize the importance of getting Chapter 1 right.  A good Chapter 1 makes the reader - whether agent, editor, or book-buyer - want to read more.  A poor Chapter 1 causes the door to slam shut.  And with Amazon allowing readers to read a book's first chapter via its "Look Inside the Book" feature, I would argue that a good first chapter is more important than ever.

(Interestingly, on a side note, the first chapter of non-fiction--usually the introductory chapter--is often written at the END of the writing process, because it's so difficult to get right.)

Herewith some things to watch for in Chapter 1, things NOT to do.

1. Don't get too ambitious.  Oh, the train wreck that is a first chapter that attempts to cram the whole book into its pages.  A first chapter should whet our appetite and make us want to keep reading.  It shouldn't, and mustn't, attempt to raise a series of questions and answer all of them before Chapter 2.

2. Don't make it the length of a novella.  Consciously or unconsciously, many readers see Chapter 1 as obligatory--they have to get it out of the way before the book kicks into gear.  Though it's the first chapter or a book, writers must see it as transitional.  The reader is transitioning from a previous book into a new book, and needs some time to ease into the new one.  There's always a bit of trepidation in starting a new book, so make it easy on readers and don't demand too much of them in the first chapter.  

3. Don't burden it with backstory.  Chapter 1 is almost never (wait, scratch the "almost") the place to go into a character's backstory or history.  A first chapter with extensive backstory is a mark of an amateur.  Sure, juicy little tidbits can be dangled in front of the reader, as well as hints about the past, but please don't introduce your characters today and immediately go back to 1975 to explain their various psychological problems.

4. Don't introduce your entire cast.  Say you go to a party with a bunch of strangers, and you're introduced to ten people, one right after the next.  How many of those people's names do you remember?  Maybe one or two at most?  Your readers really don't want dozens of characters thrown at them in Chapter 1.  Making readers work so hard in Chapter 1 doesn't dispose them to wanting to continue your book, especially if they're slightly tired, which most people are, all the time.

5. Don't bore us with details and descriptions.  The first chapter should set the book's tone.  You're writing mystery and suspense, so your first chapter should have some mystery and suspense.  Lengthy descriptions are often a turn-off (they're one of the marks of those "literary novels" that end up remaindered as soon as they come off the printing press). And asking your readers to have to remember a series of small details that occurred in Chapter 1, when they really weren't into the book yet, isn't fair to them.

Now, for some things to DO.

1. Give us some action.  Something needs to HAPPEN in Chapter 1--something mysterious.  Maybe a mysterious phone call?  A breaking and entering?  A casually observed theft?  You don't need your car chase in Chapter 1, but please have the characters do something.

2. Raise some questions.  Create some cognitive dissonance.  Make the reader wonder what is going on, and don't offer any explanation.  It's that cognitive dissonance that makes the reader want to keep reading, to find out what happens next and how that cubic zirconium ended up where the diamond should have been.

3. Establish a significant character trait.  Not all your characters need to be quirky, but your protag should say or do something memorable in Chapter 1.  We meet enough milquetoast/boring people in life.  Readers are hungry for a character who makes an entrance and takes no prisoners.

4. Keep it tight.  Keep the cast of Chapter 1 to a maximum of three people.  Make ONE major thing happen to focus the reader's attention.  Don't make Chapter 1 a Rube Goldberg that makes the reader's head spin.

5. Show it to friends.  Print out Chapter 1 and show it to 10 friends.  Give them an anonymous ballet that asks a single question: "Based on what you've read, do you want to keep reading?"  If at least 7 of them don't say YES, kill it and start over from scratch.

Cringe!

I have been thinking about artistic expression - and what happens when the poor ballet dancer takes a fall.  I'm sure people react in many different ways, but for me the most intense reaction is a cringe.  It happens when a singer misses that high note, when the quarterback is sacked, when a poet perpetrates a horrific rhyme ("A smile from your eyes/ Is my paradise").  

I have found that, as much potential as a manuscript may have, if it makes me cringe, it's pretty much a goner.  Here are some of the things that have made me cringe in recent weeks.

1. ADVERBS.  After umpteen years of doing this, it occurred to me that adverbs really must be used very cautiously.  This is a part of speech that is easy to use poorly.  The most cringe-inducing moments come when writers use overblown teen adverbs like "amazingly" or "incredibly."  At this point, I really don't think these adverbs have any meaning.  I also start to get nervous when every "he said" or "she said" is followed by an adverb.  "'Ah, but little do you know,' he said portentously."  "'Catch me if you can,' she said insouciantly."  "She looked incredibly beautiful in her teal minidress."

2. SIMILES.  This is one trope to use sparingly.  A really good one can make a point with crystal clarity.  When overused, they tend to give writing an unintentionally comic effect, perhaps because (in our genre) snappy similes are the province of the wise-cracking, hard-boiled detective who has become such a self-parody.  Imagine this paragraph in an action-packed scene: "The bullet whizzed off the statue like a bolt of lightning thrown by Zeus himself.  Miriam dodged the flying projectile like a teenager dodging her weekend chores, with incredible intensity of purpose and single-mindedness.  The shooter, having missed his target, turned tail and ran, like a mongrel chased away from a purebred by the fancy canine's devoted owner."

3. DEAD PEOPLE OVER WHOM THE PROTAG MOURNS.  Why oh why must so many protags spend dozens or even hundreds of pages obsessing over dead loved ones?  Such obsession leads to cringeworthy Hallmark-type phrases such as "my life will never be the same," "her life ended when her beloved Bobo was run down by that Mercedes," and "he walked along like a zombie, thinking about his sweet little Hortense, brutally killed by that psycho in the prime of her life."  Please, protag: Whine to your therapist.  I'm trying to enjoy a book here.

4. BAD DIALOGUE.  It happens way too much.  I can forgive a stiff conversation here and there - all writing exists to be smoothed out - but when I start to roll my eyes every time I see an open set of quotation marks, the manuscript is in trouble.  Who on earth talks like this?, I ask myself, as I scoop up the rest of the manuscript and slip it into the waiting rubber band for return to the author.  Case in point: "Miss Jones, my name is Detective Sasparilla and I am here to ask you some questions.  I would like to talk with you about the death of Putrella Pulchritudina.  My sources tell me she was a recent immigrant from Bosnia-Herzegovina.  She was found with a string tied around her right index finger.  To me this indicates she was trying to remember something.  And my research on the Internet tells me that you are also a native of Bosnia.  This is too much of a coincidence for me to 'buy.'"

5. EASILY ANALYZED DREAMS.  Let's see, your protagonist has just had a narrow escape from the clutches of a serial killer.  That night, she dreams that she is being chased through a carnival by a wolf whose face she cannot see.  She wakes, terrified, wondering what it all means.  It means that your mansucript has just been shit-canned.

ON SECOND PERSON IN NOVELS...

During last week's panel on originality, I mentioned that one thing I always advise writers never to do is write in second person.  And yet--today, on the way to work, I was listening to Top 40 radio and realized, "By God - most of these songs are second-person narratives."  And they do work awfully well, so I guess second-person narration is good for something.

What the Hell Does "Well Written" Mean?

So, everyone says that for a book to get agented and published, it has to be "well written."  I'm not sure that is 100% true - we can all think of people who have made the best-seller lists whose books are competently, or borderline-competently written, but not WELL written.

However, I think it's fairly safe to say that if you are an unknown (i.e., non-celebrity, non-politician, non-sportstype, non-CEO), your manuscript has to be well written.  This is one of those terms, I realize, that is bandied about without ever being quite defined.  I suppose we could say it's like pornography - we know it when we see it - but I thought I'd try to come up with a more specific definition.

So, in my opinion, well written means the following:

1.  Properly spelled, grammatically correct, with punctuation in the right place.  This is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for good writing.  I think a lot of us can put up with an occasional typo in a manuscript.  Everyone's human, and God knows that after looking at the same manuscript every day for a year, a writer can be forgiven for a misspelling or a missing comma.  I do think most of us see beyond that.  But multiple errors in the first few pages signal a generally low level of competence and cause us to tune out.  (Case in point, so that I can get down off my high horse - in Meredith Phillips' guest blog from last week, I had several typos in my introduction and conclusion that Meredith herself pointed out to me!  Slightly embarrassing, to say the least.)

2. Good variety in sentence and paragraph structure.  I sometimes see manuscripts that are 300 pages of simple declarative sentences.  That might be OK for children's or YA adult books (though I doubt it), but it won't fly in an adult novel.  Please give me some dependent clauses, some participial phrases, some gerunds or infinitive phrases.  Ask a rhetorical question or two.  Vary sentence style and paragraph length (especially paragraph length!  300 pages of 3-sentence paragraphs makes your book look like it suffers from ADD.  300 pages of multi-page paragraphs makes it look as though you've channeled James Joyce, most likely not on his best day.)

3. Simple, effective description.  I always feel that the best writers evoke a scene, a character, or a characteristic in a minimum of space.  I like a sentence or two of description--and then get on with it.  For more complicated locations or items that are intrinsic to plot, longer description is fine.  I like to see similes, etc., in descriptions--something other than telling me how big the thing is, and what color.  I also feel that, from a reader's viewpoint, a simple sketch lets readers fill in the details and makes the book more absorbing.

4. Sentences that stop you cold.  You might think that a sentence that stops me in my tracks is a bad thing--that it would kill the suspense or slow down the pace.  And yet I find that the books that I acquire always have sentences (usually on every page, or in every chapter) that make me think, "Wow, that was a great sentence."  Margaret Millar had hundreds of these.  I also recently read Sharp Objects, by Gillian Flynn, and there is a woman with the ability to write killer lines.  I think that what informs these killer lines is a sort of authorial perception or intelligence that engages my own--a way of putting an idea or description into writing that would never have occurred to me.  And I am impressed by that.

5. Good dialogue, in the appropriate places.  This is a real problem spot for first-timers.  Oh, the thousands of pages of banal dialogue I have read in my lifetime....  Dialogue should provide important information or reveal character.  It shouldn't be useless banter, a phenomenon I call "mother and daughter syndrome" (hope my wife isn't reading this).  My oldest daughter and my wife talk on the phone at least twice a day, for half an hour, about absolutely nothing.  They seem to enjoy it in life, but in a novel such conversations are useless and even annoying.  Another problem is stiff dialogue that sounds phony, or having all characters speak in the same way, which makes everyone sound the same.  The opposite problem specializes a character's way of speaking to such an extent that s/he sounds like a caricature.

6. A sense of control.  I really want my author to be in charge of the manuscript--in charge of my mind.  By giving myself up to a manuscript, I relinquish control over my time, and I want to make sure I am in the hands of someone who is using my time properly.  Writers who have a sense of control are excellent self-editors.  They can read what they've written and slash entire paragraphs or pages because they see that the cut material doesn't further the story, or develop character, or serve any other purpose.  In other words, a well-written book partakes very little in self-indulgence.  And yet some self-indulgence is to be expected and even encouraged, as these flights of fancy can really capture your imagination and make the author's unique voice stand out.  The best writers know when they can get away with it, and when they can't.

7. An awareness of the novel as story.  I really can't stress this enough.  A well-written manuscript has the reader in mind from page one.  From the outset, the reader thinks, "This is a story I want to read" (and, one hopes, "These are characters I find interesting").  A well-written book parcels out information, knowing that at its core it exists to reveal secrets little by little, rather than in huge chunks of backstory or chapter after chapter of exposition.  Someone who reveals backstory just about perfectly is Louise Ure.  Her books should be required study for how to handle backstory.

8. And, finally, a sense that the author is an interesting person whom I would like to meet.  When I read a really good manuscript, I always feel that I want to meet the author.  Now I may be somewhat disturbed by their vision or find their world view bleaker than my own, but I still want to talk to them, to see what makes them tick.  The same may be true of a cozy writer.  While I can't say that I am a huge fan of that sub-genre, I think an excellent sense of humor is a must in a cozy writer, and I imagine that having dinner with that author would be full of laughs and wry observations.  It's that sort of je ne sais quoi that builds a devoted readership.  The problem is that many of today's authors think that becoming email friends with readers is a substitute for this, when they are two very different phenomena.  I come from an era where I think writers should be slightly apart, slightly admired by their readership, rather than posting thousands of Tweets all over the Internet in a desire to expose themselves as much as possible.  Now, of course, that has been done successfully, and our publicist is always encouraging writers to do exactly these sorts of things, but I have never claimed not to be a man of contradictions.

A Good Mystery Is Not a Donut

OK, I admit that I chose that title purely for effect.  I was going to call this posting "Don't Forget the Middle," but if I saw that in my IN box, I'd delete it without even looking at it.  I mean, how boring can you get?

So here's my (strained) metaphor. The essence of a donut is the hole in the middle...it cannot exist without that void at the center.  The same is not true of a good mystery novel.  I am inspired to write this because I have seen a number of manuscripts (and read a number of books) that start off with a bang.  The books have then taken one of two paths: a steady downhill slant toward a boring ending, or a middle third in which nothing much happens, followed by a climax that seems to come out of nowhere, where all Truth is revealed (and not necessarily by detection).  Both undesirable scenarios share a problem: a boring, uneventful, middle 100 pages of the book.

I think this is really a must to avoid.  Agents of course put a lot of stock in your opening chapters, as do editors.  But we need to see the story carried through with panache, and that means pacing your plot and delivering the goods consistently, not just at the beginning and the end.

From the writer's end, the challenge is of course how to keep things moving during the course of the "investigation," which usually finds our sleuth driving hither and thither, meeting a lot of people and asking a lot of questions.  That scenario does get sort of tiresome when there's no variety or nothing to shake it up.  Herewith some suggestions for not losing your reader in the middle:

1. Kill someone.  The oldest trick in the book, and 99 times out of 100, it works.  I mean, it shouldn't, because it's probably the most hackneyed and overused plot device of all time (serial killer books--I'm talking to you), but it does snap the reader back into attention, especially if it reveals a tiny bit more about the killer and/or gives the reader some additional clues or information.  An endless series of corspes, however, can get boring.

2. Kidnap someone.  This is another useful technique; take a main character off the page and let us wonder what's become of him or her.  Is s/he "missing" on purpose?  What could s/he be doing, and why is s/he out of touch?  Frankly, with all the kidnappings in the news, I'm surprised this isn't used more often. 

3. Change narrator. More and more writers are using multiple narrators, a technique that I quite enjoy.  You can take the story to a certain point, end it with a surprising revelation, then shift to a new narrator, who can continue the story and provide more surprises.  I like multiple narrators because I think they offer the opportunity for more interesting character studies.

4. Change point of view.   Some writers (Patterson comes to mind) will alternate between first-person and third-person narrative.  Detective tells the story as "I," crazed psychopath is followed in third-person limited.  (Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen the opposite done, with Killer doing 1st person and sleuth in third.) In the older days, I think we publishers were a bit crazed ourselves in thinking we had to distinguish different points of view typographically, perhaps putting one in roman face, the other in italic, but now everything just goes roman, for the most point, and we let the reader figure it out.  (Though, to be honest, we usually do use a new chapter to signal a change in POV.) And I don't have a problem with that--these are mysteries, after all, and the reader should have to work a little bit.

5. Provide a false ending, and take off in a new direction.  I love stories where the investigator thinks all has been solved and wrapped up in a neat little ball by page 150.  Killer is identified, brought to justice (for example)...and then we find out--We have the wrong man.  Or a good character (i.e., one we believed to be good) is exposed as quite bad--and we go on from there to the true ending.

6. Put the protag in some jeopardy.  Another device that's old as the hills, but it works and is one of the best suspense techniques.  Have the protag followed, shot at, his car wired with a bomb, brakes tampered with, etc.  Try not to rely too much on coincidence, or the sleuth just happen to having three highly uncommon items in her purse that will be enough to defuse a bomb.  There's an old term, fem jep, that refers to the old Gothics where women got placed in jeopardy and were rescued by a man, or (later on) managed to save themselves.  The term is often used pejoratively in our feminist era, but I would argue that the early books were able to muster up so much suspense precisely because they put an innocent or naive type into a situation way out of their control.  My point is that putting your protag, whether male or female, into jeopardy mid-way through the book is a completely valid thing to do and even makes your book more readable and sellable.

Here's to full middles, and the end of donut manuscripts!

   

So You're Just Starting Out...

In the last few months I've been getting quite a few queries from what I would call "young" writers.  By this term I mean people in their early- to mid-20s, often college students or recent college grads.  To all of you who fit into this category, I congratulate you.  There are challenges ahead, but you benefit by starting early.  You learn from your mistakes, make connections, and find your voice. 

And here's what I've found most encouraging:  Many of the story ideas included in the queries have been fantastic.  (I wish I could mention two or three of them here, because they were so good, but that would be the violation of a sacred trust.)   What made them so good was their originality and the thought that went into them.  These were young people who didn't just think "I'm going to sit down and write a novel"--they had really thought through what they wanted to accomplish and how they could make their work stand out. 

So today I would like offer some tips for those just starting out.  As always, remember that Mysterious Matters is just one man's opinion, and to learn from as many sources as you can.

1. Stop worrying so much about "setting up" your story.  What I have seen in these manuscripts is a very concerted effort to set the story up in the first couple of chapters.  The best advice that I can give you is this:  Your first couple of chapters must BEGIN with story, not SET UP a story.  You have to grab your readers and pull them into the action--the ancient device of in medias res is as relevant now as it was then.  I know you are trying to do the right thing by playing fair with your readers and giving them the information they need to understand the story.  But the first pages of a good mystery novel should leave the reader with a plethora of questions, not a surfeit of answers.  You don't want readers to know everything so early -- feeling that sense of incompletion is what drives suspense and keeps the pages turning.  In a nutshell:  Look at the first fifty pages of your current manuscript.  I bet you could cut that in half and get the story moving more quickly.

2. Work on your dialogue.  This seems to be a particular area of improvement for younger writers.  Dialogue is often written solely to provide information (understandable in a mystery, of course), but it is often wooden, without the cadences of real speech.  You also need to make sure that each character has a distinctive voice/speaking manner, and that all characters don't sound the same.  The old trick is to read the dialogue out loud and "hear" if it sounds right.  If you're writing about a milieu or specific place, try to visit that place and listen to the locals--or, in a pinch, find a (good) film set in that location and listen to the characters' speech and vocal patterns. 

3. Polish before submitting.  Many of these manuscripts have a few typos and grammatical errors.  Nothing that a copy editor can't fix, but any work you present to a professional (whether editor or agent) must be clean as a whistle.  This includes cover/query letters and plot summaries.  The really is no excuse for misspellings and grammar problems.  You should be editing your own work to find these, or having someone else read your work one final time before you submit.

4. Cut, cut, cut.  Your book is most likely too long.  You can give me a dozen good reasons why your manuscript is 120,000 words, and all you will hear me say is, "Get back in touch when it's no more than 80,000."  All writers--not just the young--can grow fond of certain passages or their own words, and can't always objectively figure out what sounds nice but isn't essential to plot or character (the two key elements in a crime novel).  You have to be willing to hack away at your manuscript with a machete--and then be able to deal with it when I hack away even more.

5. Study the masters.  Regardless of the genre you're writing in, it helps to read some of the masters of that genre.  Most likely you've done this already, but if you decide you want to write mysteries, you should have read at least a few Agatha Christies plus others of the specific subgenre you want to write.  For thrillers, you really do need to have read some of the greats, such as Dean Koontz and James Patterson, to understand why they have developed such a loyal following.  My key piece of advice here would be to talk to your local librarian about the most popular writers, then check out the shelves.  Lots of books by the same author in a library is a very good sign that the writer knows what s/he's doing.  Don't copy, of course, but learn by reading.

A lot of people will give you a formula for writing a query letter...I'm sure you can find dozens of Websites showing you exactly what should be in each paragraph.  I personally find that I respond well to query letters that are somewhat more personal and somewhat more revealing of the writer's hopes and dreams.  My heart goes out to the 21-year-old who says, "I want to be a novelist more than anything and am looking for someone to give me my first chance."  Some would say you shouldn't mention your age in a query letter, and certainly there are a lot of good reasons why you shouldn't.  But I like to see some personality in a query letter, and younger people, I have found, tend to write from the heart rather than sending a business-like, standardized query--and I always find myself responding well to that.

What Makes a Good Mystery Novelist?

Here at Mysterious Matters I like to occasionally ruminate on the philosophical...  and I am feeling quite philosophical in the wake of Malice Domestic.

The question I get asked repeatedly, in a number of different ways, is "How do I get published?" or "How do I get my book published?"  I understand what drives that question, as it's the ultimate goal of any writer. 

But the more important question, I think, should be "What makes a good mystery novelist?"  Or "How can I be a better mystery writer?"  To that end, I offer the following suggestions/possibilities.

1. A good mystery writer thinks first and foremost about the reader's experience.  Some writers will tell you that writing is fun; others will say it's hard work.  I do find that many writers do get wrapped up in themselves, their books, their publishing ambitions -- which causes them to lose sight of the reader.  This makes them ineffective editors of their own work, since they can't step back and read their manuscript as a book-buyer would. 

2. A good mystery writer balances character and plot.  This is really Mystery Writing 101, but you'd be amazed at how many manuscripts I get that lose sight of the balance.  Many, many manuscripts end up 80-20, either heavily weighted toward the story or heavily weighted toward character.  If you are looking for popular success, you can't lose sight of the importance of telling a really good story, and peopling it with at least some likable types and some really good villains.

3. A good mystery writer thinks about the future.  I know, it's tough to manage the demands of your writing schedule - and trying to do some publicity - and dealing with family needs.  But I think the best writers (the ones who are able to get agents and contracts) have a vision for the future, of how they can manage their lives and schedules to give us a book a year (more or less), and how they will arc their series character, etc.  More and more writers are starting to do multiple series, which I think is good for them as writers (keeps them fresh) and good for readers and publishers as well. 

4. A good mystery writer listens to and synthesizes the advice of agents, editors, and readers.   Many writers see their manuscripts as their "babies" -- as their personal creations over which they have ultimate control.  The agenting and publishing process can be a rude and very frustrating awakening when a bunch of other thumbs are added to that pie.  Those who wig out don't really have what it takes to do this long term.  Those who are willing to listen and learn from criticism, who develop the thickest skin, who ask "what can I learn from this?" -- and then implement what they've learned -- tend to be happiest and most successful.  (This is not to say that books should be written by committee, as they must also be informed by a strong authorial vision.  I guess my point is that a strong authorial vision is even stronger for being flexible.)

5. A good mystery writer takes him/herself seriously, but not too seriously.  This is a tricky balance.  To get published you really have to jump through the hoops and get put through your paces, which means taking your desired career as a novelist quite seriously.  Going overboard, however, leaves you ramming your books down the throats of uninterested readers, or insisting that there's a market where there isn't one, etc.  I think the ability to laugh at yourself (and even at your own books) is critical, as well as psychologically helpful (as you're going to need it when you get negative reviews, which are inevitable, as your book is always going to piss someone off for reasons you never in a million years would have considered).

6. A good mystery writer pushes and challenges him/herself.  I am a bit suspect of books that are written too quickly or easily.  Writing to formula can be effective and profitable; and yet I do think that the best writers are the ones who don't settle for formula, who don't take the easy way out, even though the easy route may be quite effective in its own way.   

7. A good mystery writer understands the competitive landscape.  I think this goes back to point #1.  Really savvy writers know that readers have many choices, and that they have to provide a reason for people to come back to (i.e., spend money on) their books.  They are able to talk about/ describe their books succinctly and in a way that drives interest in them.  They keep abreast of what's being read and who's doing what, while still doing their own thing.