The Pace is Changing - Maybe

The Pace is Changing – Maybe – by Debra H. Goldstein

Recently, I received a birthday card which pictured three people sitting at a fancy dinner party. Above the picture, the caption read: “When we were young, we’d sneak out of our house to go to parties…” Below the picture were the words: “Now we sneak out of parties to go home.” Admitting to myself the truth of this card, I chuckled.

As I write this, I’m still recovering from back surgery that precluded my attendance at many of the conferences I usually attend. I told myself not going was okay because I didn’t have a new book to promote; and, although several of my short stories are slated for publication, they won’t be out until after the current conferences. I consoled myself that I could follow the events respecting the conferences I missed through the posts and pictures friends put on Facebook.

Although I enjoyed the posts, seeing everyone’s fun secondhand was bittersweet. Then, I came upon a post that made me think for a moment. It was put up by a writer I know well and very much admire. The point it made was that the author played hooky from many of the panels and honoree interviews to duck out to explore the host city, have long lunches and dinners with friends, or simply chill with a glass of wine in her room. She noted she still had a great time, but she didn’t feel the need to spend every moment at the high pitch of energy she had done when she was a new author. 

Her comments made me think about some of the behaviors of more established writers that I’d observed at conferences. Many would not be seen for long stretches during the day, or I’d observe them returning late from what had obviously been a dinner with their contemporaries. My past observations and her post made me think about how the birthday card’s message applied to authors. Was it a matter of age? Tied to their having built a following, albeit maybe not a giant one? Being comfortable in one’s own skin? 

It made me contemplate my friends and the goals we’ve recently been sharing with each other. What is it we now want from our careers? 

As I’ve posed the question to people, their joking response is often “money and a New York Times bestseller,” but after laughing, many indicate they are happy where their careers are. They have books they can hold in their hands, they sign autographs, and while they want to write the next breakout novel, most are happy to follow the same trajectory they already are on. A few are beginning to question whether they want to continue writing. They’ve enjoyed the party atmosphere of becoming an author but after assessing the up and down elements of the publishing business, they wonder if sneaking out and going home might sound good. They fear that their writing is predictable, their ideas stale or non-existent, and their desire to be tied to their computers minimal.

Are these passing thoughts or the natural evolution of a writing career? As writers, what do you think? As readers, can you see this dilemma somewhat reflected as you peruse new books and stories by authors you admire?

 

Fear vs. Passion - Will You Ever Write? by Debra H. Goldstein

Fear vs. Passion - Will You Ever Write? by Debra H. Goldstein

My mother kept a copy of my first novel on her fireplace mantle with its back cover showing.  Her explanation to her friends was that its headshot was the best picture she had of me. If she’d still been alive, she would have “accidentally” left a copy of the May/June 2017 issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine on the table, as if she had been reading it, when she hosted her weekly Mah jongg game. Whether she or her friends pointed to it, she would have waved a hand and rested it on my name on the cover while saying, “I don’t usually read mystery magazines, but it has a story of Debra’s. You know, it’s difficult to get published in Alfred Hitchcock, but they took her on her first try.” 

What she wouldn’t tell them is the book, Maze in Blue, and the AHMM story, The Night They Burned Ms. Dixie’s Place, almost didn’t happen because of my own fear.

Although I often talked about my desire to be an author, I wrote nothing except boring briefs, opinions, and legal articles until a friend challenged me to use her condo for a weekend to find my writing voice.  The unsaid part of the offer was if you don’t do it, don’t talk about writing anymore. 

During our beach weekend, I wrote eighty-five pages and realized I had the beginning, middle and end of a book in my head. Fear gave way to confidence and eventually, the 2012 IPPY award winning Maze in Blue, a mystery set on the University of Michigan’s campus in the 1970’s. The final book contains five of the eighty-five pages written at the beach. Since that weekend, I have written another book, Should Have Played Poker (Five Star 2016), signed a three-book contract with Kensington Press for the Sarah Blair series, and had twenty-six short stories published in periodicals and anthologies, but the one in Alfred Hitchcock almost never happened.

I was afraid I couldn’t write anything good enough to meet AHMM’s standards.  Thanks to reading craft books, dissecting stories of great writers, taking classes, and analyzing feedback from friends, I knew my technical skills were improving, but AHMM stories have heart and fire. My early tries lacked any sparks. They were too much tell rather than show.

It took a long time to trust readers to go on an imaginary journey with me instead of feeding them every detail.  Once I stopped spoon-feeding, my characters and settings became realistic and my stories more enjoyable.  I submitted to markets ranging from online periodicals to literary magazines to open anthology cattle calls.  Acceptances became more frequent.  If something was rejected, I edited and submitted it elsewhere. For some stories the process was repeated several times before the piece found a home (and being honest, a few will forever reside in my computer).

Even though writers I respected encouraged me to send a story to Alfred Hitchcock or Ellery Queen, I didn’t. I couldn’t.  I read both magazines and tried to analyze the different styles and voices each published, but fear paralyzed me from taking a chance. My rationalization was my stories were too simple, too comical, too one-dimensional, too crappy, but then I wrote a story with different layers and concepts entwined within it.  It was special. I knew someone would publish it, but who? There was only one way to know if AHMM or EQMM would take it. Submit it. The voice seemed more suited to AHMM, so I sent the story off aware turnaround time for acceptance or rejection might be nine months. I steeled myself to receive bad news, so you can imagine my surprise when I received an acceptance e-mail.

In retrospect, what was the worst thing that could have happened? A rejection. That wouldn’t have stopped me from improving the story and submitting it elsewhere. My writing has a long way to go, but I’ve learned overcoming the fear of writing is perhaps the greatest gift I can give myself --- and it gave my mother something to brag about.