Lewis Carroll’s advice for storytelling is, “Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”
It’s simple, but it isn’t easy. I can usually identify the end of a story, but where does it begin? The morning of the inciting incident? The day the protagonist is born? The birth of the universe? Or somewhere in the vague setting of “Once upon a time…”
You’ve read enough books and seen enough movies to know plenty of other options. Any point in the story is a viable option for page one. But just because we can start anywhere doesn’t mean we should.
Marketers quickly assimilate buzzwords associated with current trends. Think of how easily words like “green” and “sustainable” slip into everything from upscale automobiles to product packaging.
One new hot-button term that marketers have fallen in love with is AI—artificial intelligence.
The topic is worth discussing because, like it or not, technology has changed what was and what is to be.
The only certainties in life are death and taxes, according to Benjamin Franklin. So, to procrastinate on filing my taxes, I thought I’d sit down and talk about character death first. In the real world, death is an inescapable end that all too often feels senseless. As writers, we are the architectures of the worlds we create. Therefore, we need to approach death with a sense of purpose. Character death needs to be meaningful.
I had a favorite cartoon in the sixties — Peabody’s Improbable History. Reimagined in a 2014 film renamed Mr. Peabody And Sherman.
Mister Peabody, a dog, and his boy, Sherman, began each episode by stepping into The Wayback Machine, which transported them to critical moments in history.
The day finally arrived. I never thought it would. I had heard the myths, of course. Legends spoke of such a day long ago, but I never believed it existed.
I would sooner chase pots of gold at the end of rainbows than put my hope in ridiculous notions that I would ever see it. I speak, of course, of the day I completed all my projects.
But here we are. Every loose end is tied off.
All the plates I’ve been spinning are safely stacked in the cupboard. And all the fires have been extinguished.
How did I ever arrive here?
It won’t last, of course. I took one week off, and I’m already going stir-crazy. It seems I’ve forgotten how to sit still, and that’s not bad. New projects are already peering over the horizon, and I must ride to meet them.
First among them: It’s time to embark on a new novel. My coffee supply is all stocked up. I’ve got brand new walking shoes so I can plot as I stroll through the nearby park trails. My computer is primed and ready to go.
The only problem now is I am still trying to figure out what to write.
I have a few backseat projects, middle-grade novels, and short stories I could expand into something. They’re all very different from the metafiction adventure trilogy I’ve recently completed.
Therein lies the dilemma.
Once a writer establishes a readership, how far can said writer stray?
Enter the concept of the author brand. If you’re a writer, you have a brand. Acknowledge it or don’t, but readers develop certain expectations once your work is out there.
You would never pick up a Stephen King book expecting to find a heartwarming romance, just as you would never pick up a Nicholas Sparks book in search of heart-pounding suspense.
Does that mean Stephen King is incapable of writing romance? Who can say? (But I would be first in line to read it if he ever did! Because how weird would that be?) When readers find a book they love, their natural inclination is to seek out everything else that writer has ever written like a deranged stalker and consume it with ravenous glee.
I mean, that’s what I do.
The logic is simple. If I like an author’s tone, plotting, voice, and storytelling style, I will probably enjoy most of the things they write. I want to enjoy most of the things they write. I want to relive that analogous, undefinable quality I loved from the first book all over again, but through different plots and characters.
How disappointing is it, then, to love an author’s book and find everything else the author penned utterly different? It’s awful! Awful enough to lob a book across the room and shout at it, “I don’t even know who you ARE anymore!”
Writing a new genre is like starting over.
You’re assembling a new readership from scratch. Plenty of authors have done it, and many have found success. Consider Nora Roberts and her foray into gritty police procedurals under the pen name J.D. Robb.
She was twelve books into the series before officially revealing her identity as the romance novelist superstar. The pen name was a great move. The readership of J.D. Robb is different from the readership of Nora Roberts.
Roberts had to divert the natural expectations of her original readership, or the new series was likely to disappoint.
So, while I could jump onto my half-written middle-grade stories or expound on humorous short stories, the better choice may be to capitalize on what my readership already enjoys about my writing and create a story they will likely enjoy.
The new book should be separate from my existing books but offer a similar reading experience. For me, that means a high-concept story with humor, adventure, and mystery that has a loose relationship with reality.
Throw in a little genre-blending, some delusions of grandeur, and plot twists inspired by my most recent fever dreams, and I’ll be close to the mark.
Oscar Wilde once said, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.” As with any skill we learn, writers often imitate their favorite stories or authors while developing their own voice. And despite Oscar’s shade, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Imitation and repetition are simply part of the learning process. As someone who has spent most of my life steeped in a culture not my own, it’s understandable that my writing style became a unique fusion.
As the curtain closes on another January, take a moment to reflect on any New Year’s resolutions you may have made. Statistically, over half of you have dedicated yourselves to personal improvement.
Fitness is a common goal. Eliminating bad habits. For readers of The Writing Bug, there are probably goals related to producing regular word counts or sending out X number of queries each week.
I don’t know about you, but podcasts are one of my main media digestibles. Want to know about the latest hullaballoo in reality TV? The Ringer’s An American Scandoval could be your cup of tea. Need help to get a handle on the constantly shifting youth culture? (No age jokes, please) The Popcast covers whatever is happening in the music industry.
Murder, music, politics or Pad Thai. And books. There is a podcast for it. They are new-timey radio shows you don’t need a radio to enjoy. (Does anyone have an actual radio these days outside of our vehicles?)
“Write what you know” is a quote usually attributed to Mark Twain. It has become a cornerstone of writing advice in the hundred-plus years since he may or may not have said this. Like other writing rules, however, I feel it’s somewhat misunderstood.
You know more than you may think you do. The challenge lies in recognizing that knowledge and channeling it into your work.
As an author, I receive many unsolicited offers via email and social media for everything from reviews and promotions to potential offers of representation from literary agencies.
Very few of these offers are legitimate. Though companies do cold calls or cold emails, most credible companies respond (sometimes) to inquiries you make as an author, not the other way around.
I received an email a few days ago from an alleged literary agent requesting pages to review and the possibility of an offer of representation. The most recent solicitation gave me pause.
Anytime I receive an unsolicited email offer like this, I do some research. Although it would be cool to get an offer of representation from a literary agent who read my work and was intrigued, my gut tells me there’s something off.
If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Let me walk you through my thought process and the research I did to evaluate the legitimacy of this inquiry.
Red Flag One:
Though there has been some press about Stumble & Fall, this published book has yet to catch the attention of a literary agent. Agents are looking for unpublished manuscripts to sell to traditional publishing houses. It’s how they make their money.
While I wouldn’t typically respond to emails that raised immediate red flags, I decided to try and then tell the tale this time. Hopefully, it saves some of my fellow writers some trouble.
I emailed Lucinda Sloan back, telling her that the book in question was published in 2022 and that I independently published it under my own imprint.
She responded, asking to see the first 10 pages anyway. Then she asked an odd question.
“Has the book been edited?”
Yes, I answered, both developmental and copy editing. (All my books are professionally edited before they go to print).
At this point, she asked for the first unedited pages of my published book, and the conspiracy theories began swarming my brain. There’s no reason to see unedited pages of a book already in print.
Regardless of the answer, this series of questions and requests was unusual and required more scrutiny.
Red Flag Two:
Sloan claimed to have a Publishers Marketplace listing and be an active American Association of Literary Agents (AALA) member. I went to Publishers Marketplace and found that, yes, she does indeed have a listing.
Still, the listing lacked information about past sales. Then, I went to the AALA website and searched for Lucinda Sloan.
Surprise, surprise. She doesn’t exist in their database.
To confirm my suspicion, I emailed Lucinda and requested the link to her AALA profile. She has yet to respond.
I’m confident Lucinda Sloan is not a legitimate literary agent. Still, I checked out a few other things during this process—all red flags.
In her initial email, Ms. Sloan provided her website address. I always visit the website before responding to get a feel for the company. The website is a dead giveaway that the company is a little sketchy, but in this case, the website seemed convincing.
It contained all the things I’d expect to see on an agent’s website: what she represents, client books, submission guidelines, and a detailed bio.
I had to dig deeper.
I went to the Books page and searched for each client’s book listed in a separate tab. The books are all independently published, with very few reviews and no evidence of ties to a traditional publisher. We’ve all been told a million times that agents rarely consider a previously published book.
They are so rare that we can all list them on our fingers. So, a full page of client books that have been published independently is not a good sign.
If you don’t have Writer Beware bookmarked, do it now. I visited the website and searched for literary agent scams.
Reading this article reminded me of something I noticed when I first read Lucinda Sloan’s email—the name sounded familiar. A quick Google search revealed that Lucinda Literary is an NYC-based literary agency. Scammers are impersonating real agencies. In this case, the name similarity may lend credibility if the author doesn’t pay close attention.
Ultimately, this is not a legitimate offer, and having done due diligence, I am confident that I am not passing on an opportunity that might benefit me.
I have several reasons for imploring authors to do their homework when evaluating any offers, especially unsolicited ones.
Scammers can be persuasive with their sales pitches. Where in past years, scam emails could be easily spotted by their terrible grammar and spelling mistakes, the communications sent today could be more easily written off.
As in the example above, even the supporting materials like websites and affiliations can look legit on the surface.
Authoring books can be a long and arduous journey. Many scams offer “get rich quick” schemes for gaining social media followers or reviews of your book. As authors, we all want to get our books into the hands of more readers.
Still, it’s important to remember that the overnight successes espoused by these companies do not develop the kinds of author-reader relationships that build a solid fan base.
In other words, having a million followers only helps you out if you are making sales or gaining new readers.
And last but certainly not least, many of these scams target self-published authors. This literary agency scam is incredibly frustrating to me because it assumes that all self-published authors are secretly hoping to traditionally publish.
That may be true for some, but as self-publishing tools improve, many authors make the educated and intentional decision to self-publish. An agent who represents us for foreign or film rights might be excellent. Still, we’re not necessarily looking to publish traditionally.
Success as an author is a long game, regardless of your chosen path to publication. Discovering, building a following, and achieving your goals takes time. There are a lot of handy tools and services out there that can help you along the way, and also a lot of scams that operate with the sole purpose of taking your money.
Knowing how to tell the difference is critical to making good choices in your writing journey.
The Writing Bug 