Listening to Readers

by Sheila Connolly

Never assume you can’t learn something new, even when it’s about something you’ve been doing for years and think you know inside and out.

This past weekend I attended a group signing at a local independent bookstore.  Since I live in an area with plenty of outstanding writers, it was a great bunch of authors, but the event was not heavily attended (could it have been that football game down the highway a piece?).  On the plus side, those readers who did attend were serious about books and happy to talk to us.  From our side it was nice to have time to get into some serious discussion with our readers, when they didn’t feel that they had to hustle along and let the person behind get a signature.

To my surprise, I learned a couple of things.  First I spent some time talking with a local mystery buff, who has done a lot of personal research into the murder of Lizzie Borden’s parents, which took place not far from where we were.  She’s not a ghoul, but she’s been intrigued by the legal case, to the extent that she’s actually read the trial transcripts.  Her take:  based on the evidence presented, there’s no way Lizzie could have done the deeds, but there’s no way anyone else could have either.  I’d like to know more, if I can find the time.

But that wasn’t what struck me.  We got to talking about genre fiction versus what is loosely defined as “literature” and how they differ.  In a broad sense there is much overlap: there is a protagonist, and there are other people surrounding the protagonist, in one or another supporting role.  In mysteries, you add a murder to the mix, which generates a puzzle to be solved.

What was most interesting to me was how she saw the role of those secondary characters in a story.  In literature, they are there as figures who interact with the protagonist, and in doing so tell us something about that protagonist or stand on their own as interesting individuals, which tells us something different.  In genre, particularly in mysteries, and more particularly in cozy mysteries, these secondary characters take a more active part in the story. They are there as part of the local scene, but they have to earn the right to be there in the story by contributing a piece of information, whether it is an eye-witness account or a physical piece of evidence or an alibi for someone else.  They are players in the small drama.

In a different conversation I found myself discussing the place for “issues” in a cozy mystery.  The woman was talking about the time in her life when she was a nurse and had an extremely busy and stressful life, and when she got home at the end of the day all she wanted was entertainment, so she watched a lot of television sitcoms.

I can’t speak for all cozy writers, but I’m going to guess that many of us get frustrated now and then when we’re supposed to write “cute.’  You know what I mean:  nice professional young woman returns to her hometown to start or take over a small business, makes a lot of nice friends, flirts with the nice local detective, and solves a murder or two.  The conventions say we can’t include any sex, violence, or profanity.  Certainly we can’t insert anything like a cause or politics or religion.

But this woman in front of me was saying:  I come home and I don’t want to think.  I want to turn on the TV and be entertained.  She mentioned one example when by accident or design one network with a solid lineup of sitcoms scheduled issue-driven episodes back to back. This made the woman angry (to the extent that she still remembers the event, you’ll note).  She saw “real” problems all day, and she didn’t want to see them onscreen when she got home.  She wanted to forget them. And she buys cozies for the same reason.

Maybe people should stop looking down on cozies (come on, I know some of you do).  They fill a niche; they entertain and amuse people, and take them out of their own lives, just for a while.  And maybe it’s enough of a cause that we insure that whatever crime occurs is solved by the end of the book, and order is restored in the quaint village with all those lovable quirky people.  We cozy writers aren’t going to change the world, but we do make people happy. Isn’t that enough?

A New York Times bestseller!

Do Blondes Have More Fans?

Darlene Ryan (Guest Blogger)

Once upon a time, in a past life, I was a late night disk jockey. Back in the early 80s, tuned in to the right place on the dial, you would have heard my semi-sexy voice in between songs from the Rolling Stones and Air Supply. I even had my own fan club of sorts. Yes, my fans were mostly guys. Yes, most of them had a thing for my voice and definite ideas about how I looked. And they were almost always disappointed when they finally saw me in person. You see, it seems that on the radio, I sounded like a tall blonde. That's right, blonde. And, apparently, I also sounded… endowed.

In reality I'm a short brunette and my best friend calls me “chest-ly challenged”. Still, it never failed. We'd be out doing a public appearance, and at least one man would come up to me and say, “But I thought you were blonde,” in a voice that was a mix of annoyance and disappointment. And he’d never be looking at my face when he said it.

I learned a lot of things working in radio. I learned an amazing number of swear words. I saw how men act and think when it comes to women. (I worked with seven guys.) I even learned a few things about music. I could give you a list of one-hit wonders. I could tell you more than you probably want to know about the Rolling Stones. And I learned that you're never going to make everyone happy. Some days you're not going to make anyone happy. (Not everyone likes Air Supply.)

The same thing applies to writing, I’ve discovered. You can't write a book that's going to make everyone happy. In fact, I don't think you should try. But there are a few things I think a writer does owe her readers--her fans:

1. A well constructed book. That means proper spelling, good punctuation, and a story that has a beginning, middle, and end.

2. A story that respects its genre. Romances have happy endings. Murder mysteries have bodies and killers. No, that doesn't mean Cinderella has to marry a prince. She can marry the stable boy as long as she's happy in the end. And that killer? Maybe he's performing a public service. He doesn’t have to end up dead or in prison.

3. No lame tricks to save the day. No “deus ex machina.” No what I like to call, “God in a helicopter.” The heroine can’t suddenly get her memory back, remember she was a contortionist in the circus and turn herself into a human pretzel to get out of the ropes. Thirty-two chapters later, the detective can't suddenly get the significance of the clue on page 15, but not tell anyone.

4. A story that makes sense. In real life people do things for stupid reasons or no reasons at all. But you’d better come up with credible motivation if you want someone to stick around for three hundred pages of your book. And it doesn't really matter if you tell your story from one point of view or six different points of view, as long as readers know whose head they're in.

On the other side, there are a few things we don't owe our fans:

1. A prequel, a sequel, or the next book in a series. (Yes, I know a lot of editors aren't going to agree with me. And by the way, if Tim Cockey is reading this, this doesn't apply to you. Come on, would it be that hard to write one more Hitchcock Sewell novel?)

2. Another mystery. (Or romance, or thriller, or what ever.) You do owe readers your best work, but you don't owe them the same work every time.

3. Another book at all. Yes, I know all about building a career and a reader base. But maybe you want to try a screenplay or poetry or a picture book.

Write the book that excites you. Tell the story you want to tell. Give your readers a good book, your best book. Blonde hair and big endowments are strictly optional.

Darlene Ryan is the author of Rules for Life and Saving Grace.

WHAT IF??? The difference between readers and writers...

By Lonnie Cruse

What if? It's an interesting question.

Whenever I attend the Love Is Murder conference in Chicago, the most interesting things seem to happen in the elevator. This year that happening was a quick discussion with someone between the first and second floors who introduced herself to me as "just a reader." There were three or four of us writers in the elevator and as many readers riding between floors. I'd checked this lady's name tag, in order to say "hello," and that's when she made the "I'm just a reader" statement. We writers quickly assured her that we couldn't do our job of writing unless she did her job of reading what we wrote. "Just readers" are extremely important to us "just writers." Although, I have to say I've never heard a writer confess to anyone, "I'm just a writer." Ego? Confidence? Whatever.

For me, it isn't about talent or lack thereof (which may be what readers are saying about themselves when they use the "just" word, that they don't believe they have the talent to write, but maybe they do? Where was I?) I believe it's the "What if?" question that sets the two groups apart.

"Just readers" see an item in the newspaper or on television, or overhear a snatch of conversation in public and think it's interesting, then they quickly move on with their lives.

"Just writers" see or hear the same thing and screech to a halt, fumbling for notebooks or napkins to jot an idea or phrase down, all the while asking themselves, "What if?" What if that wasn't an accident, but a murder? What if that young couple is faking a public marital spat while they check out the store for a possible robbery? What if? It's what makes us writers tick. It's that, ahem, weird imagination that allows us to take something ordinary and everyday and transform it into a whole new story. A story, hopefully, that "just readers" will want to read.

But "What if?" is really a two edged sword for an awful lot of writers. Not only is it a necessary question in order to keep us looking for new ideas, plot lines, scenarios, etc. but it can bring us to a grinding halt, staring at a blank page, as if hypnotized. As in:

What if I can't come up with an idea to write about?
What if I have the idea for the beginning and ending of the novel, but I can't fill in that awful saggy, baggy middle? (Which, by the way is MY very own, very personal "What if" bugaboo.)
What if I can't come up with another idea good enough to write a sequel to the last book?
What if my latest book doesn't sell well enough and my publisher drops me while I'm in the middle of writing the next one?
What if I die in mid-manuscript and the world never gets to read my current work of genius? (Which is bound to happen to an awful lot of writers, since we're nearly always in the middle of writing a new manuscript.)

These "What ifs" are a writer's worst nightmares. Not to mention daymares. Lack of self-confidence, an internal "editor," difficult to turn off, that constantly whispers in our ears, "This stinks," "You can't do this," Nobody is ever going to want to read this." Helpful little phrases like that. Then, of course, there are the guilt "What ifs":

Should I be spending all this time tied to my desk, writing about characters who don't really exist when I have a family who need me, a job to do at the office, a house to clean, groceries to buy, etc. ???

Writers are plagued with self-doubts, and "What if" is often the gateway to those doubts. We have to find a way to shut them off and concentrate on the "What if" of the story. How we can entice you lovely "just readers" to read our stuff.

If you've ever introduced yourself to a writer as "just a reader," please, let me encourage you to leave off the "J" word in the future. You ARE our bread and butter. And remember, it isn't any easier on our side of the desk than it is on yours.

Now, "what if" I get busy on a new story line slithering through my head?