I Blame Myself

It occurred to me last week that I’d made a critical error in the development of my new novel.

It’s not the idea for the book that’s wrong. The idea is good! The main character is good, the setting is good, the set-up is good.

There are a lot of solid planks in the new-book platform.

And I think, eventually, the book is going to work. Although it’s best to hold these things loosely because sometimes, for instance, you spend six months writing a book about the 1980s and space only to learn that one of the best and most famous authors in your genre is about to publish a smash hit, also about the 1980s and space.

It’s hard to believe it was just a year ago, not even, that I abandoned NASA Conspiracy Murder Book because of Atmosphere. But, yeah. There was nothing to be done about that! I put that half-finished novel aside and wrote A Merry Christmas Can Be Murder just for fun and to learn about self-publishing.

Then, days after Merry Christmas hit the Amazon algorithm, I put pen to paper on Patsy Valentine, which is what we’re calling the new Book 5. In December, I sent pages to my agent. “It’s all vibes,” she said in response to my submission.

But, we both liked the vibes. So, I started to work on a plot to go with them. In February, my agent said, “The plot doesn’t make sense.” I’d sent new (better) pages and a quarter-baked synopsis. She kept going: “Why is this a crime that only Patsy can solve? What’s special or unique about her that makes her the one and only person who can get this done? Who even cares about this? And also, the mystery doesn’t hold water.”

I’m paraphrasing, so I shouldn’t have put that feedback in quotes. But, you get the idea. There were holes. And it took me way too long, just like it took way too long for the kids in The Sandlot, to realize why their elaborate plans weren’t working. I’ll tell you now, succinctly and perhaps in a way that you can use. Like, cut to where the main kid knocks on James Earl Jones’s door to get the baseball back.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m out of contract with my publisher. I had two, two-book deals with them between 2020 and 2025. I’ve now published four books (a straight-up miracle). I love my team and especially my editor, but guess what? My books haven’t sold that many copies. I’m assuming that it’ll take some kind of miracle for Berkley to offer me another deal because I haven’t been a big money maker for them. With that reality front of mind, I decided I should “get the rejection process started ASAP,” so we can all get through the awkward goodbye and move on with our lives.

Soooo, you can probably already see the problem with that approach. Getting some chapters and a synopsis ready to get rejected is not the best way to hatch your next great idea. Why not, I see now, write the best damn thing I can and make it super duper hard for anyone to reject it, despite my middling sales numbers?! Why not make the character irresistible, and the plot charming and ingenious? Why not plant the seeds for a bang-up series that everyone clamors for? Why not just lay my heart and soul on the line once again?

Well, it’s because rejection hurts a lot when you try your hardest. But, writing is also personal and art, and so… it has to be good and meaningful and my best work in order to be something at all.

Here’s what I decided to do: slow the heck down. Develop the characters and the story using tools and strategies I’ve gleaned from classes and experience. Surprise myself by writing for discovery. Enjoy.

Slow down, and enjoy.

Because if it’s not fun, it won’t be good. And if it’s not good, it won’t get bought.

I’m going slow. It’s gonna get bought (maybe, I can’t actually control that). I’ll keep you posted.