I had a dream the other night about a Martian easing the door to our bedroom open from the adjoining guest bedroom. It got to the point I felt I had no choice but to go in there and confront him before he entered. I had to protect Manette; as I started to pull the door open I also realized that Superman was off dealing with some other emergency, so it was all up to me. I don't remember whether Styles was there, and I don't know if Martians are afraid of pitbulls. Styles isn't much of a watchdog anyhow, and we've never seen him attack anyone or anything (he chases squirrels, but we're convinced he wouldn't know what to do with one if he caught up to it), although I like to think that if he saw Poppy in hand-to-hand combat with a Martian that he'd rise to the occasion and help me out. As I stepped around the moving door, my heart pounded. I awoke, gasping, to Manette shaking me and calling my name.
In a way it was refreshing, because I've been living--and sleeping--with the characters from Vaccine Nation, my upcoming thriller, all summer. I conked out on the sofa in the library the other day, and, half asleep, told Manette, "I need to get some drackume from Dani's ducks." She thought it was so funny she wrote it down on a blue post-it and stuck it to the top of the kitchen island. I saw it when I came down the next morning for my run, vaguely remembering it, and certain Manette didn't understand the profound significance of the words. Whatever.
Now it's fall and Dani North, Grover Madsen, Hunter Stark and Richard Blum are still inhabiting my brain. I've spent the last three days grinding through my editor's line-edits on Vaccine Nation. Now the hard part comes, muscling through his broader comments. That will involve reworking or completely rewriting key scenes, manipulating some plot elements, and, most importantly, pulling things out of the characters. I say pulling things out, because at this point I can't make anything up about them, or change them, because they are who they are, as evidenced by their visitations--waking and sleeping--throughout the summer. Tomorrow I'm heading up to the weekend house in Milford to isolate myself with them for 12 to 16 hour workdays. I still have things to record about their pasts. They need to tell me more about their passions. They need to reveal more of what their souls ache for and why. They have to show me why you should care about them as much as I do.
I'll be back when I'm done.
Read a sample of Vaccine Nation
Showing posts with label self-publishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-publishing. Show all posts
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Writers
At 6:45 this morning it was cool enough, 70°, that I was able to run my 3 miles. I needed it; this heat wave has kiboshed my exercise regimen: over 80° every morning. I recorded my time, changed, and by 7:30 was outside in front of the pool, muscling the second half of my scene-by-scene outline for my latest novel, Vaccine Nation, with Styles, our pit bull, sharing half the lounge chair. I had at least a few hours to work before the landscapers, a hoarde with weed whackers, leaf blowers and lawnmowers, would drive me inside from the two-cycle engine fumes and noise. I'm halfway through the book at about 40,000 words. Writing before I’ve finished the detailed outline of the whole book is an unusual way for me to work. But months ago I had my benchmark critical points in the outline thought through, planned out all the scenes in the first half and wanted to get writing. I've gone back to some of my old movies for ideas on structure, but I've still struggled with some holes in the second half of my story.
By late morning I'd made good progress with my outline, so I came back inside and dictated about 1,500 words into my Dragon voice-to-text software on my computer; critical scenes in chapters 9 and 10. A decent day’s work. At about 12:30 I walked into the kitchen.
Manette and Zac were walking back up Summit Avenue with Styles when they saw Peter mowing his lawn across the street. He waved, made a display of shutting off the mower to emphasize the importance of the moment, known only to him, and started toward them, boney legs in shorts, glasses askew in his haste, his work gloves now in hand. Manette was thinking Peter had obviously written something new he wanted to tell us about. She watched him work his way through traffic across Summit Avenue like Woody Allen dodging lobsters while in pursuit of Diane Keaton in Annie Hall. They talked for ten minutes, then Manette invited him for coffee. He looked back at his idle lawnmower and said, "Just a little,” displaying an inch and a half between two fingers.
We’re currently reading Peter’s third-person memoir of his now-respectable friend, Santo, who wants to tell his saga, yet keep his distance from his Soprano-esque upbringing on the mean streets of Jersey City and Newark. Santo’s story is told in independent vignettes, so shocking and starkly real that we know Peter didn't make them up because you can't make up stuff like that. Santo relates each vignette to Peter over coffee at Starbucks one at a time, and then Peter goes to the public library to channel Santo longhand onto the page as clearly as he can remember. I'm helping Peter prepare the memoir for uploading a dozen vignettes at a time into Kindle. Peter and his wife, Felicia, are successful, traditionally published children's book authors and illustrators. Peter is also the guy who came up with a now famously ubiquitous ad campaign (Got Peter?). So Peter and Felicia still do stints of advertising work for selected clients. And Peter writes things that come into his head, as they come into it, like a dark children's book about scheming squirrels that plot to take over Easter (it ends badly for the Easter Bunny). Like another book I'm helping him upload into Kindle, with the working title "Snapper," about a giant snapping turtle that terrorizes a town. I can't figure out if it's young adult, paranormal or just creepy.
When I walked into the kitchen, Peter, Manette and Zac were seated around the marble-topped island. I noted Peter’s shabby shorts, T-shirt and the fact he hadn't shaved. Then I remembered my own appearance and smiled to myself. When Manette offered coffee, Peter said, "No, really, I can't stay," and continued talking. Zac prepared the coffee—we keep fresh-ground beans from Whole Foods wrapped in plastic in the freezer and use a French press—and the kitchen filled with the aroma of Brazil. Peter's eyes went wide as Manette pulled out our "Abner" heavy cream, almost as thick as sour cream, prepared from raw, unpasteurized milk. Abner is an Amish farmer who ships the stuff down from upstate New York once a week to our food guild. "Well, maybe just a little coffee," Peter said, again showing an inch and a half between two fingers. Manette poured him a full cup and he loaded two luxurious spoonfuls of Abner cream into it. We talked about Santo’s memoir, Vaccine Nation, "Snapper" and other things. Forty-five minutes later Peter asked if Manette's cell phone could make outgoing calls (he and Felicia don’t have a TV, on behalf of the kids—although they do love Mad Men and watch it on DVD—but Peter has a cell phone, so I don't know why he asked the question) and left a message for Felicia saying he'd be home in a few minutes. He refilled his coffee cup, added more Abner cream. We kept talking.
Another forty-five minutes later Peter stood up and said, "I need to get home. I think I'm probably in trouble." As we stood saying our goodbyes, Peter launched into a description of another story he's writing, about a futuristic society where everyone is dumbed-down by taking some pill every day, and the quest of his hero to burst out of it. He slowed down for a few moments and then got more animated, his eyes going wide behind his glasses, arms circling and hands gesturing. "Have you finished this?" Manette asked at one point about fifteen minutes into the story. I smiled to myself, knowing by that point Peter was making it up as he went along, because that was how he worked.
After I finished my coffee I went back to my outlining.
By late morning I'd made good progress with my outline, so I came back inside and dictated about 1,500 words into my Dragon voice-to-text software on my computer; critical scenes in chapters 9 and 10. A decent day’s work. At about 12:30 I walked into the kitchen.
Manette and Zac were walking back up Summit Avenue with Styles when they saw Peter mowing his lawn across the street. He waved, made a display of shutting off the mower to emphasize the importance of the moment, known only to him, and started toward them, boney legs in shorts, glasses askew in his haste, his work gloves now in hand. Manette was thinking Peter had obviously written something new he wanted to tell us about. She watched him work his way through traffic across Summit Avenue like Woody Allen dodging lobsters while in pursuit of Diane Keaton in Annie Hall. They talked for ten minutes, then Manette invited him for coffee. He looked back at his idle lawnmower and said, "Just a little,” displaying an inch and a half between two fingers.
We’re currently reading Peter’s third-person memoir of his now-respectable friend, Santo, who wants to tell his saga, yet keep his distance from his Soprano-esque upbringing on the mean streets of Jersey City and Newark. Santo’s story is told in independent vignettes, so shocking and starkly real that we know Peter didn't make them up because you can't make up stuff like that. Santo relates each vignette to Peter over coffee at Starbucks one at a time, and then Peter goes to the public library to channel Santo longhand onto the page as clearly as he can remember. I'm helping Peter prepare the memoir for uploading a dozen vignettes at a time into Kindle. Peter and his wife, Felicia, are successful, traditionally published children's book authors and illustrators. Peter is also the guy who came up with a now famously ubiquitous ad campaign (Got Peter?). So Peter and Felicia still do stints of advertising work for selected clients. And Peter writes things that come into his head, as they come into it, like a dark children's book about scheming squirrels that plot to take over Easter (it ends badly for the Easter Bunny). Like another book I'm helping him upload into Kindle, with the working title "Snapper," about a giant snapping turtle that terrorizes a town. I can't figure out if it's young adult, paranormal or just creepy.
When I walked into the kitchen, Peter, Manette and Zac were seated around the marble-topped island. I noted Peter’s shabby shorts, T-shirt and the fact he hadn't shaved. Then I remembered my own appearance and smiled to myself. When Manette offered coffee, Peter said, "No, really, I can't stay," and continued talking. Zac prepared the coffee—we keep fresh-ground beans from Whole Foods wrapped in plastic in the freezer and use a French press—and the kitchen filled with the aroma of Brazil. Peter's eyes went wide as Manette pulled out our "Abner" heavy cream, almost as thick as sour cream, prepared from raw, unpasteurized milk. Abner is an Amish farmer who ships the stuff down from upstate New York once a week to our food guild. "Well, maybe just a little coffee," Peter said, again showing an inch and a half between two fingers. Manette poured him a full cup and he loaded two luxurious spoonfuls of Abner cream into it. We talked about Santo’s memoir, Vaccine Nation, "Snapper" and other things. Forty-five minutes later Peter asked if Manette's cell phone could make outgoing calls (he and Felicia don’t have a TV, on behalf of the kids—although they do love Mad Men and watch it on DVD—but Peter has a cell phone, so I don't know why he asked the question) and left a message for Felicia saying he'd be home in a few minutes. He refilled his coffee cup, added more Abner cream. We kept talking.
Another forty-five minutes later Peter stood up and said, "I need to get home. I think I'm probably in trouble." As we stood saying our goodbyes, Peter launched into a description of another story he's writing, about a futuristic society where everyone is dumbed-down by taking some pill every day, and the quest of his hero to burst out of it. He slowed down for a few moments and then got more animated, his eyes going wide behind his glasses, arms circling and hands gesturing. "Have you finished this?" Manette asked at one point about fifteen minutes into the story. I smiled to myself, knowing by that point Peter was making it up as he went along, because that was how he worked.
After I finished my coffee I went back to my outlining.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Reflections on the Past Months
It's now been over four months since I launched Trojan Horse. My attitude at the time was "What have I got to lose?" after deciding to commit myself to writing full-time and seeking out an agent to take the traditional publishing route. Since then a lot has happened for me. Trojan Horse made it to #1 in Spy Stories and Tales of Intrigue and to the top 15 in Kindle books. I released The Gravy Train, a 50 thousand-word novella, which is now #14 in Suspense Thrillers, and a week ago I released Bull Street, another thriller set on Wall Street during the financial crisis. Bull Street is now #29 in Suspense Thrillers. So I now have three books in the top 40 in the overall Thriller category on Kindle. I've had an offer of representation from a top-notch New York literary agent and, separately, have been offered a publishing deal. I'm at work on my next thriller, the first chapter of which is excerpted at the end of Bull Street. I consider it's been a successful few months.
As a result, I'm reflecting on my situation. I'm grateful to be in this position, one I never could have scripted back in mid-January when I released Trojan Horse. And that means I'm grateful to those who've read my books. Those of you I've heard from have been incredibly supportive and generous with your comments and reviews.
I feel like I've only scratched the surface in my education on the epublishing world, but I do know that it's here to stay and will undoubtedly dominate the publishing world reasonably soon, in years, not decades. It's made it possible for me to have three books out in less time than I would have needed to find a publisher--and then start the 12 to 18 month process of getting one book out. The advent of the Kindel, Nook, Smashwords and Kobo platforms allows an efficient mechanism for authors to get their work in front of readers quickly.
I don't know where all this takes me but I have a pretty good idea: I'm working as hard as I ever have in my life, and as an investment banker I worked hard; it's a punishing career. But now I have a constituency out there--readers--that I don't want to let down, so I feel like I need to deliver more you'll enjoy reading. I'm excited about Bull Street; it's my favorite of the books I've written so far. It's been a great few months and I'm looking forward to what comes next.
As a result, I'm reflecting on my situation. I'm grateful to be in this position, one I never could have scripted back in mid-January when I released Trojan Horse. And that means I'm grateful to those who've read my books. Those of you I've heard from have been incredibly supportive and generous with your comments and reviews.
I feel like I've only scratched the surface in my education on the epublishing world, but I do know that it's here to stay and will undoubtedly dominate the publishing world reasonably soon, in years, not decades. It's made it possible for me to have three books out in less time than I would have needed to find a publisher--and then start the 12 to 18 month process of getting one book out. The advent of the Kindel, Nook, Smashwords and Kobo platforms allows an efficient mechanism for authors to get their work in front of readers quickly.
I don't know where all this takes me but I have a pretty good idea: I'm working as hard as I ever have in my life, and as an investment banker I worked hard; it's a punishing career. But now I have a constituency out there--readers--that I don't want to let down, so I feel like I need to deliver more you'll enjoy reading. I'm excited about Bull Street; it's my favorite of the books I've written so far. It's been a great few months and I'm looking forward to what comes next.
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