The Secret to Getting Published

I just finished up three days at the Storymakers 2013 conference! It was a great event with some wonderful agents and editors, and lots of amazing authors and aspiring authors. I attended some very helpful classes--some of them taught by agents and editors.

When the agents/editors open the floor to questions, inevitably the writers start asking things like:

"What are the upcoming trends in the market?"
"What should I put in my query letter to make it stand out?"
"What genres are you looking for?"
"When is the best time of year to query?"

The agents and editors do their best to answer these questions, but they struggle. Sometimes the writers get bugged. "Why can't they just tell us what they're looking for."  Even though these are all different questions, they all boil down to the same thing:

"What is that one magical thing I need to do to get published?"

The bottom line is that there is no one secret, magical, just-out-of-reach trick. They can guide you and offer suggestions on what NOT to do, but none of this is a shoo in.

The only trick that really works is to write a great story. I think is was Victoria Curran who said, after everyone kept asking for the magical secret, "Write what's in your heart, and write to the heart."

A good query is important. Not writing to the trends is important. Choosing the right agent for your genre is important. But the only sure thing that can sell your story is your story.

Write what's in your heart.
Create something that speaks to the heart of the reader.
Write it well.
When the time is right, your story will find a home. No magical tricks involved.

Music and Memories

The other day as I was driving and channel surfing, a song came on I hadn't heard in years. Suddenly, I was on semester abroad in Britain, sitting in a big tour bus with my headphones on, listening to that song while parts of Scotland and northern England whizzed by.

The song: "Wrapped Around Your Finger" by The Police.

I hadn't realized that memory was so closely associated with that song--and the whole Synchronicity album. I listened to it a ton during that semester abroad because it had just been released in London. Those were the days before iTunes and even CDs. I had to flip the cassette over halfway to hear the other side.

Now I've dated myself.

What songs spark a memory for you?

Short Story Shenanigans

Every April, the Utah Children's Writers host a 30 Days 30 Stories event. Here is the short story I wrote for today. It's silly, and full of writing no-noes. Enjoy.

As Plain as the Nose on Your Face 

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning split the sky, and the sound of a dog barking up the wrong tree woke Rodney from his troubled sleep. Now he was wide-awake and chomping at the bit.

His bedroom door creaked opened. “Wake up and smell the coffee, sir,” voiced Jeeves apologetically. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s a girl at the front door.”

Who in tarnation would be out on a night like this? It was raining cats and dogs. Young Rodney’s parents had both kicked the bucket years ago. Their approach to child rearing had never been spare the rod and spoil the child, but Rodney missed his old man like a duck misses the water.

“We can’t leave her hanging. Shall I let her in?” inquired Jeeves quizzically.

Rodney raked his hands through his hair and bit his lip to keep from screaming. He didn’t want to beat around the bush because he knew beggars can’t be choosers. Plus the butler was old as the hills and Rodney was a glutton for punishment.

Rodney ignored the chip on his shoulder. “I’ll get the door,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Then we’ll see which way the wind blows.”

Quicker than a New York minute, Rodney reached the large oak front door. It was now or never. After all, there was more than one way to skin a cat.

Even though he was dog-tired, he took the bull by the horns, grasping the doorknob with a white-knuckle grip. It wouldn’t open. He buckled down and pulled. Still nothing, so he made a last ditch effort. Third times the charm, he thought in his mind to himself. He put his back into it, and that was the ticket. The door flew open.

Rodney’s eyes popped out of his head. There stood a real looker, cute as a button and wet behind the ears. She smiled, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth.

Rodney’s heart skipped a beat and butterflies filled his stomach. Suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine. Could she be a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Too late now, you can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. After all, lightening never strikes the same place twice.

The girl at the door looked daggers at him. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” Her voice was smooth as silk.

She was only a stones throw away, and Rodney couldn’t trust her, not for all the tea in China. But why should he be afraid of his own shadow? There was no point in closing the barn door after the horse had bolted. It was just like his mom used to say, All roads lead to Rome.

“Come in,” he invited nervously while waves of fear crashed over him. No bones about it, she looked like someone back from the dead—a blast from the past. True, you can’t fit a square peg in a round hole, but you also can’t judge a book by its cover.

He waved the white flag and tried to break the ice. He was the man of the house now, and he called the shots. “You must be frozen solid.”

“I’m not here to chew the fat,” she declared assertively. “I have a bone to pick with you. You’ve spent your whole life swimming with the sharks, and where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I’m your long lost sister!” she finally proclaimed.

Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked like a fish out of water.

“Wow,” the girl exclaimed. “I knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but you’re slower than cold molasses in January.”

It seemed his hands were tied. After all, blood is thicker than water. He would have liked to sweep this under the rug, but a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

“What am I, chopped liver?” he questioned inquiringly. “You’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. No need to sugar coat it, I can see you’re in a world of hurt.”

She ran forward and threw her arms around him. “I don’t mean to rub salt in your wounds, but here’s the whole ball of wax: someone murdered our parents.”

“No!” Rodney moaned sorrowfully. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

“Who died and left you in charge?” she demanded angrily. “I’m at the end of my rope, and the only person who can help me is not just whistling Dixie.”

This girl was wound tighter than a spring. She should've known better than anyone that it's not over till the fat lady sings.

“When all is said and done,” Rodney uttered defensively, “actions speak louder than words.”

“Does that mean you’ll help?” she queried hopefully.

Rodney already had one paw on the chicken coop. It was time to look at the glass half full. “I may be grasping at straws, but yeah, I’m in—hook, line, and sinker.”

She tossed him a grateful smile, then pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her back pocket and gave him a taste of his own medicine.

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” she started to begin saying. “I found this smoking gun. A picture of the snake in the grass who killed our parents.”

Dead men tell no tales, and Rodney doubted that what you see is what you get. Still, he gave the photo the once-over.

It was a picture of a man who had as many chins as a Chinese phonebook.

That took the wind out of his sails. He hated being caught with his pants down. Now that he was wedged between a rock and a hard place, he could finally see the writing on the wall.

He didn’t have to compare apples to oranges to know who was in the picture. And just because curiosity killed the cat, didn’t mean he couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag.

“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” he professed. “The butler did it.”

A Blind Eye - Book Trailer

Here it is. The moment we've all been waiting for!

The book trailer:



Amazing, yes?

I can't take all the credit--or even a pinch of it. The real genius behind the trailer is Paul, the super talented guy who created the beautiful and stunning shots and visual effects, and did all the editing, and storyboarding, and yeah, pretty much everything that makes it awesome.

Roll the Credits:
Oliver Howells - producer (a much bigger job than I ever imagined. Thanks Oliver!)
Mason Mac - Christian
Amberlee Wilson - Scarlett
Mariah Tess - Jenny
Beau Maxon - Connor
Rocky Bowlby - Gary

And special thanks to about a hundred other super talented and generous people who helped behind the scenes, mixed the sound, composed the original score, provided food for everyone, did the make-up, moved truckloads of equipment over and over again, let us use their facilities to shoot guns in, managed the wardrobe, loaned us their car to nearly wreck on a lonely stretch of highway, fanned fog forever, stood outside in the freezing cold for hours positioning mirrors to direct the light, responded to every crazy request I made on set, made fake blood, pushed the dolly, built a medical examiner's gurney, and so much more. You all rock!

If you like it, PLEASE spread the word! Share it on Facebook, Tweet it, whatever! Let's get it out there!

Thanks!!

A Blind Eye Playlist

Like many authors, I have a playlist that inspires me and helps me tell my stories. I don't know why music seems to be such an integral part of a writer's muse.

So, for fun, and while we're waiting for the unveiling of the Book Trailer of Awesomeness (coming April 2!), I'll share the songs behind A Blind Eye.

Welcome to My Life

-Simple Plan

Waiting

-The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Little Lion Man (Radio Edit)

-Mumford and Sons

Open Up Your Eyes

-Tonic

Waiting for the End

-Linkin Park

On My Own

-The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Take Everything

-Greg Laswell

Right Before My Eyes

-Cage the Elephant

Hear You Me

-Jimmy Eat World

I Miss You

-Blink 182

You’re Not Alone

-Saosin

They're all on this youtube playlist, and if you click on the little "playlist" icon at the bottom of the video frame, you can pick and choose which ones to listen to.

Best Writing Advice

On Thursday this week, I'm giving my first presentation to a group of aspiring authors. I can't wait. As my daughter would say, it's going to be epic.

I'm planning on sharing things that I learned on my journey to getting published that I wish I would have known sooner, including some time saving tricks and general habits to make writing easier and better.

I would love any ideas from my blog readers on their best piece of writing advice. It can be about any part of the writing process.

So, if someone asked you for your one most important bit of writing advice, what would it be?

Or, if you're a reader not a writer, what is something you wish writers would do--or not do?

Any advice is welcome.

How Long Should It Take to Write a Novel?

I've seen a lot of blog posts recently with writers complaining about how hard it is to find time to write, or how they've been working on the same story for YEARS and just can't quite get it right.

Here are my thoughts on that subject:

EVERY writer struggles with those same problems.

But--

SUCCESSFUL writers spend less time complaining about it, and instead, learn how to FIX IT.

The reality is that if you are serious about getting published and being successful as an author, you have to figure out what areas you struggle with, and fix them.

When an agent or editor calls, interested in your manuscript, you can bet they will be asking some probing questions. "How long did it take you to write this story?" "What else are you working on?" "Do you have other manuscripts completed?" They don't want authors that can't get the writing done.

Take a step back and look at your writing life through an objective lens. What is it that's holding you back? And how can you fix it?

No time to write? Find some. Get up earlier. Set aside a little chunk of time everyday, and, as Martine Leavitt would say, chip away, chip away, chip away. Make that time count.

Bogged down trying to get your story just right? Find a good critique group--and LISTEN to what they say. Move on. Maybe that story just doesn't work and it's time for something new. Set rules about how much time you can spend editing each day--maybe only allow yourself to re-read the one page previous to where you left off. Five minutes tops.

Plot going nowhere? Try pantsing. Try outlining.

Embarrassed by a hideous first draft? Welcome to the world of writing. That's why I prefer the term rough draft.

Discouraged by negative feedback or a lot of critique from your writers group? Step away. Let their comments percolate. They're not trying to be hurtful, they're trying to help your story. EVERY writer--no matter how good--can still improve. If you need warm fuzzies, ask your spouse to read it and have them tell you only the things they liked.

My point is, to be successful in this business, you have to be able to get the manuscripts written. Written, polished, and ready to go.

Figure out what's holding you back, and FIX IT.

DON'T compare yourself to other authors, you aren't them. Experiment, learn, and find out what works for you.