What's the Matter?

So . . . after the cover suggestions for my debut novel, Whistling in the Dark, were approved by the Penguin art department, I needed to get to work on what Ellen the editor had requested. She thought the story started out too quietly and wanted me to add a little oomph to get readers’ attention from the jump. I was so grateful the art department had changed Troo’s ravishing red hair from the original puddle brown that I couldn’t agree fast enough.

“It’s perfect,” Ellen told me after I sent her the newly written prologue. “It’s very—”

“Oomphy?”

“Exactly!” she said with a giggle. “Now I’d like you to come up with some back matter.”

I had no idea what “back matter” was and was growing weary of feeling like the hick who wrote books in Wisconsin when I wasn’t churning butter, so I played it cagey. You know, how you do when you don’t know something that someone else thinks you should and you don’t want to appear dumb, so you ask an open-ended question that might reveal the answer. “Hmmm . . . good idea. What do you have in mind?”

“Book club discussion questions,” Ellen said.

“Oh, sure. Book club discussion questions,” I said like I knew what she was talking about. (Remember, this was almost 25 years ago, so book clubs were just becoming a thing, at least to me. I’ve since attended over 100 since and discovered that the abundance of wine have us gals chatting up a storm and we even talk about the book sometimes. (Book clubs are one of my most favorite things about being an author. I’ve made such great friends and great memories and gobbled up the yummiest treats.)

“Also,” Ellen said, “since you’re a complete unknown, an interview would be nice.”

I figured I could run over to my local book store and check out other “women’s fiction” novels. Perhaps one of those authors had discussion questions in the back of their books and I’d get the idea. But the interview? Finally! Something I knew how to do.

As an actress and restaurateur, talking to people was my job, and thanks to improv and years of acting classes, I’m pretty quick on my feet, if I do so so myself. Not to mention that during my years as a disc jockey I’d interviewed rock stars and other celebrities like John Lennon and Frank Zappa and Phil Donahue, when they breezed into Milwaukee for concerts or events. (All three of them were very sweet, smart men, and I was very tempted to run off with Ian Hunter, the lead singer of Mott the Hoople.)

Figuring there was something like an “interview department” at Penguin, the same way there was an “art department,” I told Ellen, “Great! Should we set up the call now?”

Crickets.

“A call?” she said.

“To do the interview?” I said.

Crickets for another 30 seconds.

“Actually,” she said. “You’ll do the interview.”

Pretty sure that I’d heard her wrong, I said, “I’m sorry. Did you just say that you want me to interview myself?”

“Exactly!”

This reminded me of sitting on my bed when I was kid asking myself questions after I’d won a Best Actress Oscar. But it also felt weird, and sort of insulting, and like something that didn’t happen to other writers. Then again, I wouldn’t ask myself any questions that I didn’t know the answer to.

“Happy to,” I cheerfully told Ellen because I get a little too peppy sometimes when I’m feeling anxious.

“Super,” Ellen said. “Now let’s talk about the front matter.”

Perhaps sensing my confusion, she said, “Please send the dedication, the acknowledgements, a bio, and could you come up with a description of the story that we can use on the back cover? And what are the chances of you getting anymore quotes from other authors? The one from Sara Gruen is wonderful, but we could use a few more. And can you get that to me ASAP?”

This was in June of 2006 and, according to my contract, the book wouldn’t be released until May 2007.

“What’s the hurry? Don’t we have tons of time?” I said.

“Not really,” she said. “I have other books to edit and meetings and marketing to put in place, and . . . .

While she was going on and on, I began thinking about that interview.

Q. Do you ever feel like you’ve bitten off more than your can chew?

A. Oh boy, do I.

More next time!

Huge hugs!

What I’m reading: Worst Case Scenario by T.J. Newman. Love these kinds of thrillers at the end of the summer.

What I’m watching: Bad Monkey on Apple. Brilliant series based on Carl Hiasson book.

Some of the stuff I like to do when I’m not doing either one of those things: Yesterday I kayaked with my daughter, Casey, and two g-kids, Hadley and Charlie. It was an absolutely gorgeous hours long trip down the Milwaukee River, but now I can’t sit worth a damn. (Totally worth it.)