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What Lies In Store?

In retrospect, my last entry seems a bit pathetic, desperate, even. It’s hard work, Karolyn, perseverance, that pays off. You know that.

Yes, I do. In fact, my favorite motivational quote is by Calvin Coolidge about perseverance above all. (It’s a long quote, but worthy of looking up if you need a little motivation.) (Or, email me and I’ll type it out for you.) From my last entry, I’d say I’d temporarily misplaced my motivation. Happy to report it’s back.

Today is a perfect day ~ so far (I never take a single day for granted). A good work out, a good breakfast, a good shower… Sunshine, coffee, quiet, quiet, and more quiet. And, most importantly, Danny needs me. Daniel King, my protagonist from That Changes Everything, and the de facto protagonist from Left On Blue. He’s made his way from Brooklyn, New York to Jackson, Wyoming, and he’s drunk, in a bar, late at night. Boy howdy does he need me.

So, wish me luck. We all know that bad news is just a phone call away, and you don’t win the lottery if you don’t play. Today, I’m playing the lottery, but not answering the phone.

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How Can This Be So Difficult?

Back at the daily grind… which is a complete misnomer because I LOVE sitting in my brand new writing studio and typing away for hours, working on my third novel, Left On Blue. The only daily grind is my coffee. The problem, as my sage father recently pointed out when I said I was starting a new book, is that I haven’t sold my first two books yet. Well, loyal readers, here’s the true emotion behind an unpublished author’s daily life: frustrated determination.

But I have a plan. Write each day on the new book, send out three new queries every week for That Changes Everything. It will sell; I have every confidence about that. Turns out, for me at least, the hardest part of writing a 300-page book is the one-page query letter to describe it in a way that someone wants to see it NOW.

I had just decided that instead of calling my book Commercial Fiction in my query letters, which is nothing but generic, I would call it Romantic Suspense. It is suspenseful, and there’s definitely a love story involved in the plot. But in my research for Left On Blue, I came across another author’s web site who calls herself a Romantic Suspense Author. Well, judging her books by their covers, That Changes Everything is NOT a Romantic Suspense novel. Hers look like Romance novels. Mine is not that.

That Changes Everything is suspenseful, but not a mystery in a who-done-it sort of way. It has a heart-felt love story, but it’s not a romance. It is tragic, but not like a Russian novel. It’s a Twenty-first century drama, plain and simple. Think: Wall Street meets Love Story.

Ok, ok. This is my job. If I can write the book, I can write the query letter. No more whining. No more procrastinating.

I’m off to see the Wizard. You have a good day now.

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stop the MADNESS!

You’ve been wondering where I’ve been, what I’ve been up to, why I haven’t been blogging. Right? You check every morning, about 8:05, after sitting at your desk, papers and pens and coffee all in place, just after the boss waves hello and then goes to check his own favorite blogs, probably also mine, wondering why I haven’t written for over a month. Well, I’m back to explain.

Years ago, an old friend of mine who had for some inane reason been lambasted in our local newspaper, offered me a sage nugget of advice when I asked him how he dealt with such unfairness. “Never complain. Never explain,” is all he said. I thought it was brilliant, especially since I hate excuses. In life, you either do something or you don’t. Does the reason really matter? What’s done is done.

Nevertheless, here’s my explanation, full of complaints.

Being a mother. Being a wife. OCD. ADD. Poor time management skills. Remodeling our home. Throwing a party for 100 people. And last but definitely not least, pedicures. I put all those things ahead of Being a Writer. I’m not sure how I could have lived the last 6 weeks differently, but somehow I think that a person with a “real” job would have figured it out and still gotten everything done. Because my work is flexible, I allowed others to dictate where I had to be and when.

This week, I proudly announce, is MINE. I back. I’m a writer. Leave me alone.

Unfortunately, I had to renege on a trip to my home town, Lawrence, Kansas, when I made my declaration. I had to give up the opportunity to see my best childhood friend, and my son who will be a senior at KU. Sorry again to both of you, but this is important to me.

Now, back to the search for an agent. I know my book will sell, I just have to find my advocate.

No more excuses.

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To (f)b or not to (f)b

Well, I did it. I never thought I would, but I did. I am now a facebookian.

The facebook population is approximately 400 Million, now larger than the United States, but I never knew what the big attraction was. I figured if I wanted to catch up with an old friend, I could pick up the phone or send out an email. But it is way more entertaining than I imagined ~ who knew my friends could be so witty? The best part is that you don’t have to make any effort to talk to your friends. Everyone just talks about themselves, and you get to read what they’re up to. Comment if you want, or don’t. It’s that easy. But you probably know all of this! I am the newbie here.

Within 48 hours of signing up, I had 47 friends. My kids were honestly surprised that I had “that many.” Indeed, one of my biggest reasons not to join was because I was afraid none of my kids would want to be my friend, and I didn’t know if I could take that much rejection. Sure enough, they have all ignored my request to be friends, either that, or more likely they just haven’t checked their facebook pages for the last 4 days. (Please, do not spoil my delusional optimism.) It’s their loss though. Soon enough, I’m sure I’ll hit my limit of 5,000 friends, and then I won’t have room for them. They will never know how cool I am.

So why did I convert and become a joiner? The final push came from two of my sisters after a family wedding. When I asked to see their pictures, they told me that they had both posted “a ton” on their facebook pages and if I wanted to see them I was going to have to get with the program. That comment combined with my construction-imposed house arrest pushed me through facebook immigration. (Faithful readers know we’re remodeling our kitchen and bathroom.) (If you’re my friend, you can see the picture I posted on my shiny new facebook page.) I’ve been trapped in a cacophonous construction zone! I can’t write. I can’t read. I can’t think. But I can spend countless, mindless hours on facebook!

Ten days and counting for the kitchen, and I count myself lucky. They are supposed to be finished tomorrow, but we’ll see.

EVEN BIGGER NEWS, my husband and I just bought the condo adjacent to ours, so now I get my own office ~ a WRITING STUDIO in my own home. No more sharing space with the homeless at the public library. No more evil, caffeine-fueled boring stares from bored baristas as I threaten to hang out past my allotted two hour time limit for one single cup of straight black coffee ($1.96 tops). Now my only distraction will be the laundry, and my husband’s favorite hunting shows on the Outdoor Channel. (But that’s why God invented noise canceling headphones, right?)

Over the past two months, I have been overwhelmed with multiple special projects (e.g. the kitchen remodel), and I have not been able to focus on my third novel, Left On Blue. I have, however, sent out another handful of query letters for That Changes Everything, been better about blogging, and have been reading everything I can get my hands on. Look for my photo as the 2010 Poster Child for Learning To Make the Most Out of a Less-Than-Ideal Situation. One step forward, one step at a time. Though don’t get me wrong, I’m not whining or complaining… just blogging. I am an extremely lucky woman.

Soon, very soon, I will get the chance to put down on paper (up on a screen?) the random thoughts I’ve been scribbling in my moleskin about my characters working their way through the plot lines and plot twists. The voices in my head are starting to drown out the workmen in my kitchen. That’s progress.

Now, where are those headphones?

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What a day for a daydream

I recently read a ten-year old, timeless book, On Writing, by Stephen King. I am not the first to say what a first-class book it is. I like his approach (not the alcohol and drug use)(in that regard, I’m so boringly boring), but rather his idea that if you have a good “situation” or idea, the plot and characters will write themselves. We all know it isn’t quite that easy, but I follow that dogma much more readily than John Grisham’s well-defined plot outlines that he stretches into a pre-determined novel. I’ve written two novels now, and they both ended in completely different places than I thought they would because they grew organically after my daily intake of strong, black coffee. I love that feeling when my fingers take over, my brain gets out of the way, and something totally unexpected results.

But back to Stephen King. He writes in Chapter Two of the On Writing section about the productivity levels of various authors. He compares (among others) “John Creasey, a British mystery novelist, (who) wrote five hundred books under ten different names” to Harper Lee (author of To Kill a Mockingbird) who wrote only one book. King wonders: How long did it take (Lee and other less prolific authors) to write the books they did write, and what they did with the rest of their time? He asks, “If God gives you something you can do, why in God’s name wouldn’t you do it?”

Obviously, Stephen King was never a stay-at-home mother.

Today, I sit in my favorite Eames lounge chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, CNBC quietly keeping me abreast of the daily market fluctuations (Dow up 142 pts., at the moment), dog at my side, rain dribbling down the window over my left shoulder, clouds above obscuring the dreamy blue skies that I know are out there somewhere. Off to my right? Five muscular workmen remodeling my kitchen and bathroom. They have power drills, shop-vacs, radios, and cell phones at such a level that there is no way I could concentrate on Left On Blue, my new novel. I can’t even concentrate on the delicious novel I’m reading, The Invisible Bridge, by Julie Orringer. (I’m only 200 pages in, and I highly recommend it.) Would Stephen King have been able to concentrate in this chaos? Would he have gotten in his self-imposed 1000 words today?

As the person in charge of all things “household” in my family, it’s my job to sit here amid the clutter, dust, commotion, and whispered swearing in case there’s a problem or question. But writing? Not today. Reading? Sporadically. Eating? Standing up, out of a wrapper. Blogging? Ah, yes!

The best part, is of course, the workmen. Not in the way you might think, but in a writer’s people-who-are-fabulous-to-watch sort of way. The tattoos, for instance, they have several great examples to observe. And the clothing, ripped under the arm, stained from paint, torn at the neck. One guy has on a gray t-shirt with a skull as large as his extra-large abdomen, in RED, no less. Another man, is covered in sweat, I mean soaked clear through his t-shirt and his shorts. I comment on all this, not judgmentally, but as a seer of truth, a beacon of reality. Left On Blue takes place largely in Wyoming. I am positive that the workmen in Wyoming aren’t that different from the workmen in my kitchen. This is good stuff, man.

Will someone please tell Stephen King that just because I didn’t get my 1000 words in today, I’m still working here.

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Eenie, meenie, minie, moe

The dilemma, should you chose to engage: Ebooks vs. real books vs. audio books vs. movies

(Faithful readers, you’re going to have to suffer a little backstory for the newbies reading my blog. This, of course, ass-u-ming that anyone actually IS reading my blog.)(I know, I know, comments like this will NEVER bring me advertisers!)

Last month I mentioned that I went to see the movie The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and how much I enjoyed it, and how I was kicking myself for not reading the book first, years ago. I ran right out after the movie to pick up The Girl Who Played With Fire in paperback, and I read the 600+ pages in a couple days. This morning I tried to order a paperback copy of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest from my local Barnes & Noble store, to pick up later today, and got a text message back saying they only had a hardback copy available and that the price was $28, if I still wanted it. After careful consideration (and a quick shower), I declined their generous offer, and bought the book via Kindle for Mac for $9.99. Thus, in one trilogy, I will have had three very different experiences in the adventures of Mikael Blomkvist and Lisbeth Sander. I can also throw in the audio-book experience, but from a different author: In February, I listened to Dark Place by Gillian Flynn, the story of a young girl who was the lone survivor of a murdered family.

So, what’s a popcorn-loving, minimalist-techie, avid reader to do? Read the book asap, and proudly shelve the novel once finished? Conspiratorially buy the ebook version, thus stealing strangers’ opportunities to judge me by the cover of the book I’m reading? Wait for the movie to come out and indulge my snack-habit? Plug-in headphones and sit like a statue for umpteen hours? Ah, the agony of choices!

In the past 12 years, I have moved 5 times… more than some people, less than others. But the past 3 times I’ve moved, I’ve had to give away stacks of books, out of necessity, not desire. I currently live in a fabulous glass and concrete loft with my fabulous husband, but I no longer have room for a fabulous library. Ok, so ebooks sound like the way to go. And, if I save money on “real” books I can pay for my latest obsession, aka the iPad.

But, I LOVE curling up with a juicy paperback (yes, I usually prefer paperbacks to hardbacks because they’re more intimate and cozy). There’s something just so… intimate and cozy about books. Ok, so then, make room for more books, or learn to enjoy giving them away. (One specific comment about Larsson’s trilogy: When I read The Girl Who Played With Fire, I must admit that I was a bit overwhelmed by 600 pages of Swedish names of people and places, and got all the ‘holms and ‘sons confused, not to mention I’m sure I massacred the pronunciations. The movie didn’t present that problem.)

In February, when we were traveling and I did not have access to English books, I downloaded the audio version of Dark Place to my iTunes, and listened to people being bludgeoned to death while at a sublime tropical resort. Not bad, as I laid by the pool slathered in sunscreen. At least I didn’t worry about getting the book pages wet or greasy. Alas, audiobooks are two or three times as expensive as ebooks or “real” books. However, I learned a lot about how readers will “hear” my own books.

And, movies? Well, there’s the popcorn aspect, and the rapid delivery, and the enveloping atmospheric visual delight, but movie adaptations rarely live up to the book. Movies don’t usually have the option (due to time and money restrictions) to go as deep into a story as a well-written book. Plus, who has the patience to wait for the movie if the book is one you want to read? Not me, unless I completely drop the ball and overlook a good book, as in the case of The Dragon Tattoo.

So… clouds clear, sun shine, crowds hush, like the old E.F. Hutton commercials… In my humble opinion, there is obviously a time and place and reason for all of the above. I (as a writer and a reader) really, really, really, really hope that “real” books will always exist, but I also hope that the iPad will come down in price by October, my birthday and our next overseas trip, so I can load up on the newest, juiciest, most fabulous ebooks to pack in my featherweight carry-on.

Mr. Jobs, are you listening?

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The Fine Line Between Optimistic and Delusional

About fifteen years ago, when I was a stay-at-home mother of four boys, a professional woman with no children asked me what I did all day. I looked around my home, at the piles of laundry, stacks of dirty dishes, thousands of action figures and Matchbox cars and replied, “Usually I nap or read after my masseuse leaves for the day. Then I polish my nails and cook a romantic dinner for my husband.” Then I crossed her name off my list of friends and went back to the chaos of trying to keep my nose just above the level of clutter.

Last week, my now 19-year old son asked me the same question on our trip home from his freshman year of college. This time, I wasn’t angry or defensive. In fact, this has become one of my favorite questions for people, not because I don’t believe people aren’t busy, but on the contrary, because I’m fascinated by how people choose to spend their precious, allotted 1,440 minutes each day. And, now that I’m an “empty-nester” with a retired husband and have no “real” job, it almost seems like a legitimate question. That, plus, my youngest son can do no wrong.

But first, if I were to take a poll of the lowest-paying jobs one could have in Des Moines, Iowa, three possibilities come to mind. Number One: Stay-at-home Mom. Number Two: high-end contemporary art dealer. Three: wanna-be novelist, waiting to be discovered.

Aha! My resume! But it’s worth noting (for my fragile self-esteem) that those are all Labor of Love occupations, or at least they have been for me. These days, I write as much as possible, which is never enough. I love writing: the solitary nature, the excitement of the perfect paragraph, the surprise of a character leading me down an unknown path, the sense of accomplishment of having written a novel that a PhD professor of English at Ole Miss says is “truly first class.” Perhaps only an artist can truly understand the quiet passion. In any case, my novel, That Changes Everything, is ready and waiting.

As an art dealer, I worked with dozens of talented artists, most from New York City, each following their passion, hoping that somehow the stars would line up just so, and that they would soon be discovered. I am now in their shoes, waiting, wondering, praying that the Right Person will find my work at the Right Time. I know (because I’ve seen it first hand) that talent, timing, and luck must all align. I feel like Danny King, my protagonist, who is aching to find the love of his life, as I wait patiently for query letters to be answered. I want to shout from the rooftops: You’ll like me. You’ll really like me. Just read me!

Meanwhile, and here’s where my husband gets worried that I might cross that line from being optimistic into psychotically delusional, as I refine, polish, perfect my novel, and WAIT, PATIENTLY, I am hereby revealing the pictures that helped me along the way to create realistic neighborhoods and characters. Above are three locations from my book. Below are the faces who have become my imaginary friends. But, don’t worry about me (I keep telling my husband this), this is merely the vision board in my writing studio. (tee hee)

Daniel King: 38, former “King of Wall Street,” now rebuilding his life as a student and a waiter in Brooklyn; receives a cryptic message suggesting that his business was sabotaged; becomes obsessed with finding the truth behind his downfall, and meeting Lily, the girl who captivates his heart.

Lily Frances White: 27, darling, dysfunctional, successful young artist; for starters, she has issues with her parents, “They named me Lily White. I’m just paying them back.” Also has issues with drugs, monogamy, and consequently her boyfriend, Louis.

Louis Landry: 42, Lily’s British boyfriend; extremely wealthy, world-famous artist, irreverent, and totally narked when Lily betrays him. Yet, still, he wants her back.

Nikhil Kapur, 38, Danny’s longtime best friend, “the only friend who hasn’t crossed him yet;” met at Harvard Business School; now a commercial realtor in New York. Nik is married to Nina, a doctor. The two own (and live in) the condominium in Brooklyn where Danny now lives.

Shawn Sutter: Sly? or is he just nervous and insecure?

Carl: Danny’s best friend and savior. The hero of That Changes Everything.

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The Girl With the Enthralling New Novel

No excuse is a good excuse. But, facts are facts, and the fact is that I love movie-theater popcorn. Somehow I skipped over/passed by/was oblivious to a great book/author/trilogy. I’m talking about Stieg Larsson’s Millennium series, aka The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo books. And, at the risk of committing blasphemy, I hereby admit that I saw the movie before I read the book!

Forgive me, stone me, just listen to me.

We all have 24 hours in every day. Some people accomplish much in life, others not so much. The reality is that each of us makes time for our own priorities. I have read dozens of books since The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo was released in America, and I have spent countless hours working out, sleeping, God knows eating, etc., etc. And now I WISH I had made time for the book; the story was that good. The second installment in the series is the next book on my reading list… it just jumped ahead of other books I’ll probably also kick myself for not reading sooner, but nonetheless, The Girl Who Played With Fire will be my next book.

But the amazing fact that I just discovered is the similarity in theme between my new novel, That Changes Everything, and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Sure, you have to strip out the details like location, occupations, and the serial rapist/murderers, but the bones are very similar. Both books could be described as such:

An accomplished man has just hit rock bottom. He meets a young, dysfunctional, seductive female. The girl tries to help the man solve a mystery and regain his life; some sort of relationship ensues; maybe they end up together… maybe they don’t. (Not going to give the ending away!)

Now, once you (meaning me) reintroduce a specific location, occupation, time frame, and unique problems, an entirely new book is created. In fact, I’ll bet few people would ever compare the two novels like I have just done because the circumstances and fluff are so dramatic that they greatly disguise the bones. And “to go one moment more,” I realized while I was away in Costa Rica, the same comparison to another of my favorite books that was made into a movie: Out of Africa. This time, you also have to change the genders of the two main characters, but the comparison remains.

Maybe what they say is true: There’s nothing new under the sun. Perhaps, but my novel is a compelling, current, intense version of two other great stories. It’s the story-telling that makes a book so delicious and fun. I didn’t realize it as I was writing, but now I can see the comparisons. I mean, hey, had you noticed the comparison between Out of Africa and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo before now?

Shameful self-promotion? Yes, but I believe in my work that strongly.

I think you’re gonna like it, too.

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Lightning Strikes When the iPod’s Hot

I know what you’re thinking. What’s a Midwestern mom doing writing about a male hedge fund manager who lives in Brooklyn with a dysfunctional young artist?

Maybe I’m not who you think I am… (ooh, foreshadowing of Left on Blue… but I digress).

Let me ask you this: Have you ever noticed how some people don’t ever act their age? There are men and women whom I know, who absolutely never act their age ~ some act older, some act younger (even MUCH younger). I call it a person’s “Emotional Age.” Do you know what I’m talking about? Some call it being “an old soul,” or “young at heart.” My husband, for instance, whom everyone loves, I could swear his emotional age is about 16. Don’t get me wrong, he’s wise and intelligent and successful and kind, but he always lives in the moment and he’s kinda goofy. And I have a friend who’s nearing 50, but she acts like a fun-loving 28-year old. Then there’s me. I’m 47, but I think I’ve been 35 for about the last 30 years. Even when I was in college, I never behaved like a college kid.

Ok, so the same goes for logistics. I live in Iowa, lived here for 22 years now. But my “Emotional Home,” if you will, is New York City. If you are so inclined, you might think I was reincarnated from a soul who died in NYC at the age of 35. (OOH, creepy… I think I’ve just found my next novel!) Once, several years ago on a trip to NYC to visit my artists (remember I was an art dealer for 8 years), dressed in my typical head-to-toe black, hailing a taxi at LaGuardia, a man asked me, “Feel good to be home?” (Ooh, double creepy: maybe he knew me from my previous life!) Anyway, almost every day for the last 3 or 4 years, I’ve watched CNBC. It’s even on now, as I type. My alter ego lives in New York, probably somewhere in the Village. My husband and I even got married at the Plaza Hotel in NYC.

And writing from a male point of view? Hell, that’s nothing. I have a husband, four sons, a father, a brother, an ex-husband, and even a male dog. I’ve got no problem writing a male POV.  And, the inspiration for this novel hit me like lightning one day when I was on a walk, listening to my iPod, when David Gray came on singing “This Year’s Love.” Know the song? If not, take a listen. My kids don’t appreciate David Gray (yet), but his music is so deep and so raw and so masculine, that I knew I could write an au courant, fact-based, yet deeply emotional novel that would appeal to both men and women. There’s one line from David Gray, “won’t you kiss me, on a midnight street?” that hit me so hard it absolutely inspired a story-line so powerful that I had to write it down immediately. In fact, for most of the past year, the working title for That Changes Everything was Midnight Street. But, true to the title, my characters took over and changed everything, including the title.

Ultimately, the only way you’ll know if I am/was successful with this novel is to read it. I think you’ll find it accurate, compelling, and worthy. And, thank you, David Gray, for the inspiration.

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Let the Waiting Begin, or: A New View

Two weeks home, after two months in Costa Rica. We had to come home, I suppose. Taxes would not wait; our dog missed us; real life was slipping by. Or was it? In the two weeks my husband and I have been home, we’ve asked ourselves thirteen times, “Why are we here?” Not once a day, but close.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Des Moines. Des Moines is a beautiful, friendly city with incredible things happening. We live downtown, in a glass and concrete loft. Above is my view at night (ok, if I go to our rooftop; we actually face the other direction). Des Moines is where our friends are, and where our children call home. We will always live in Des Moines, but Escapism Rules! Life in Costa Rica was without obligation, commitment, baggage, hell, we were practically naked (metaphorically speaking) (and once literally, but that story is none of your business). There’s a freedom that comes with no one knowing your past, and that, dear readers, seemed to be the common thread amongst the ex-pat Americans we met. They only told others what they wanted to; we learned not to ask too many questions. But in a world where language divides people into two overlapping circles (those who speak both English and Spanish having the most friends), we sensed that many (not all) of those who had left America behind for the scorching, siesta-filled days of Central America did so for a reason. Enough with the judgements at home, they say, the oblique glances, the whispers as you pass by. Reinvention is the one-word mission statement of ex-pats. Not a bad idea, I might add. Why is it that people never forget the bad stuff others have done? That’s what “Danny” asks in Left on Blue. So, move to Costa Rica! Or, Nicaragua. Or, San Miguel, Mexico. Or just move across the country. It’s very liberating.

But enough philosophizing, I’m rambling for a reason. People used to twiddle their thumbs, or play solitaire, or drink heavily. I blog. And read. I’ve read fifteen novels in the last 8 weeks, with a stack equally as high trying to tempt me from sleeping. I am waiting impatiently, fighting off anxiety headaches. Trying not to check my email more than twenty times a day, or my cell phone for missed calls from the 212 area code. Yes, I mailed the all-important query letters off for my novel. The real reason I WANTED to come home from our extended stay in Costa Rica. What kind of masochist am I?

J.D. Salinger, I get it! I get you! You are my hero. After writing some of the best works of our time, he got smart, and released himself from the scrutiny of friends, fans, even family who, bless their hearts, can be a bit critical at times. For those of you (bless your hearts, too) who don’t know, J.D. Salinger, who recently passed away, became a recluse after publishing only four books, but he continued to write privately for 50 years. That’s what I’m talking about. Talk about writing for yourself! Bravo. That’s one way to avoid the anxiety of the publishing side of this incredible, passionate career which I have chosen.

Only, I don’t have that luxury yet. Yet. Ah, ever the optimist. I will be published. I feel it in my bones. My words will influence someone’s life. In fact, it’s time to end this post so I can check my cell phone for a missed call. Hasta la vista.