I couldn’t be more pleased to announce I’ll be moderating a panel at Bouchercon 2012 in Cleveland:

RETRO HOMICIDE
Murder in the Golden Age of the 1940s and 1950s
Saturday, 10/6/12
1:30-2:20
Ambassador Room

I’ll be joined by a stellar group of authors: Kelli Stanley, Terence Faherty, Jim Fusilli, Sally Wright, and Sheila York.

As always, there will be lots of great panels at Bouchercon 2012. Click here for the full schedule.

Picture of a puppy studying. I know. Awesome.

Picture of a puppy studying. I know. Awesome.
I was thinking about something as I completed my two-mile run to nowhere on the treadmill this morning:

I build stories.

I’m very proud of the stories I build. But one thing is absolutely certain: though they are ultimately my own, they were not built alone.

They started with my parents, who kickstarted my imagination by reading books to me and encouraging me to be creative.

They were enhanced by the wonderful teachers I had while attending public school.

They were funded by the grants, student loans, work study programs and scholarships I received so that I could go to college.

They are assisted by my husband, my first and last editor.

They are improved by the brainstorming and critique sessions with my fellow partners in crime.

They are published by my fellow writers who come together in amazing ways to promote each other’s work, fund charitable projects, and to celebrate a mutual love of reading and writing.

There is no question I’ve benefitted greatly from the larger community of which I’ve been a part, both public and private. For that, I’m thankful.

I build stories, but I do not build them alone. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lenny Kravitz’s Mama Said album is one of my favorites of all time. I played the hell out of that sucker when it came out and for years afterward. It’s been awhile since I broke it out so maybe today it’s time. Let’s start with this:

When I first thought of this post it wasn’t supposed to be about Lenny Kravitz, but before I get to the meat and potatoes of it, I’d like to tell you a story from my archives.

Circa 1995 I lived in West Hollywood and worked in Mar Vista. My commute consisted of three streets: Right on Santa Monica Boulevard, left on La Brea Avenue, right on Venice Boulevard, reversed on the trip home. Easy, but traffic laden, so I generally spent about 30-45 minutes in the car each way.

Back then I had a fantasy that one day I would meet Lenny Kravitz, we’d hit it off, and fall in love. Okay, so I didn’t believe it would ever really happen (though at 25 I was nothing if not idealistic) but since I lived in LA and often had random celebrity sightings, it wasn’t such a far-fetched idea that I might actually see him one day. It was, as the title of the post indicates, “thinking positivity.”

So one day on the way home I was sitting in traffic on La Brea Avenue when I noticed a guy with long dreadlocks entering a furniture store on the right. It’s called Little Paris Antiques now but I’m fairly certain it was called something different back in the day.

There was no doubt in my mind it was Lenny Kravitz and it was an opportunity I just couldn’t pass up. Fortunately I was in the far right lane so I quickly pulled over and parked in front of the store.

It’s worth noting at this point that I’d skipped lunch that day and had stopped by the 7-11 on Venice and Sepulveda to buy a snack for the ride home. I don’t remember exactly what it was but it was crunchy and oniony, and left a powdery residue everywhere. I’d placed the open bag on the passenger seat and had been digging into it the whole ride home, so I’ll let you do the math on how I must’ve smelled. Still, I wasn’t about to let a little onion breath stand between me and my destiny. I ran into the store and it wasn’t long before I spied the man I’d seen enter.

Now, if this was a work of fiction, this is where I’d add the twist: the man turned around and it wasn’t Lenny Kravitz at all–it was just some poser. Cue the womp womp music.

But this was real life y’all! I found myself face to face with the man who was numero uno in my book. My Lenny radar had not failed me. It was the man himself.

I remember two things vividly about that meeting. 1) He was about as tall as I am, 5 ft. 4. 2) He had the most beautiful flaring nostrils I’d ever seen. Seriously, I could not stop looking at his nose.

He looked a bit panicked when I approached him. I quickly allayed his fears by telling him what a big fan I was and how much I respected him for being vocal about his commitment to Christianity. I loved me some Jesus big time back then. He just nodded politely while I spoke and then thanked me graciously, told me how sweet I was.

Did you hear that? He told me I was sweet. Unsurprisingly, that was the extent of our romance.

Okay, so this post wasn’t supposed to be about Lenny Kravitz. It was supposed to be about positivity.

Recently I started writing at a coffee shop on Sunday mornings with a couple of fellow writers. I noticed that we seem to spend a good deal of our time (when not writing of course) berating ourselves for not writing more. For not being more dedicated. For being slackers.

And yes, by some writers’ example, perhaps we are. But spending so much time talking about how we fail keeps us from being proud of how much we’ve achieved. With that in mind, I started reflecting on what I’ve accomplished since 2012 began:

1) Finished a major revision of DIARY OF BEDLAM, thereby greatly improving the manuscript
2) Started querying agents again
3) Had a flash fiction story published online
4) Contributed one short story to an upcoming anthology (a story, by the way, that I’m very proud of)
5) Been asked to contribute a second short story to a charity anthology
6) Hired a professional editor to edit DIARY OF BEDLAM
7) Begun implementing the suggestions of said editor
8) Started a new WIP
9) Started working with a critique group

Not too shabby!

This isn’t to say I can’t improve my work ethic, but sometimes it’s good for me to step back and look at what I have accomplished instead of dwelling on all the ways I don’t live up to my own expectations.

Lenny Kravitz would be proud.

Diary of Bedlam update: Still querying agents and waiting for agents to get back to me.

The waiting game can be hard and frustrating. Although I must say the more time that goes by, the more I forget I’m waiting because I’m working on new projects. I’ve got actual deadlines, people! That feels good, makes me feel more legitimate for some reason.

In the midst of all this waiting I also sent the DOB manuscript to a professional editor. It was something I’d been contemplating for awhile, especially because I’ve been thinking seriously about self-publishing. On Sunday, I got my edit letter back and it was very encouraging.

There’s some work to be done, sure. But the editor (whose previous experience includes a few big 6 publishers) says DOB might be the book that could get me a NY contract. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that until I actually heard that. She agreed I wouldn’t be compromising by self-publishing since it might be more lucrative to do it, but if I still had my sights set on a traditional deal, DOB was a contender (okay, my words, not hers).

So I’ve got a little revising to do and then I’ll be querying agents throughout the fall. If I don’t get any bites, maybe I’ll go the self-publishing route.

As a reminder, I’m contributing a story to the FEEDING KATE anthology which will be released in October. It promises to be a fantastic book, so please consider making a contribution so you can get your copy.

And in other news I’ve started (or rather expanded) a home/lifestyle blog called Crafty Devilish. I figure I spend so much time looking at home decor blogs, food blogs, etc. that I should put all that interest to good use. But I did it for another reason as well: after putting most of my creative energy into writing for the last four years I realized I wasn’t as happy as I wanted to be. I needed another creative outlet and Crafty Devilish is it. If you’re interested in that sort of thing, pay the blog a visit and get regular updates on Facebook by “liking” it.

 

 

 

I am honored to announce I will be contributing a story to a charity anthology called FEEDING KATE. It benefits someone whose very dear to me and many others in the crime fiction community, Sabrina Ogden. She suffers from lupus and needs a jaw surgery that her insurance company won’t pay for (those bastards). Laura Benedict, Laura Curtis, Clare Toohey, and Neliza Drew organized an Indiegogo campaign to fund it, and for just $5 you can get an e-copy of the anthology. An $18 contribution will get you the print version, and higher donations will get you a signed copy. All the details are here.

Even though I call this a “charity anthology,” it really doesn’t feel like charity. You know why? Because your contribution will get you a kick ass crime fiction anthology featuring stories from some of the best crime fiction authors writing today:

I know, huh? It’s great to be included in such an awesome list of writers–I am humbled.

If you’re unable to contribute, you can still help by posting about this anthology on your blog, interviewing one of the authors, tweeting about it, posting it on Facebook, etc. We all appreciate any promotional help you can give for this cause.


I try to stay pretty upbeat online, really, I do. I try not to give in to my dark thoughts, I mostly avoid passive aggressive status reports, and in general, I don’t want to be a complainer, or come off as negative. Which doesn’t mean I don’t state my opinion when I have one, it only means I try to be nice about it, or at least have a semi-well-informed argument.

The thing is, I am a complainer. I can be bitter and resentful and petty. In fact, bitter and resentful and petty might just be my default state. But I’m working on it, I swear I am.

The last few days have been a bit hard for me though. It all started with a rejection on Friday morning, the first email of the day. It wasn’t a particularly surprising one, nor was it from someone I’d placed a lot of hope on, but I hadn’t seen one for awhile and it shook me. I spent all of Friday in a terrible mood and after a weekend of pretending none of my WIPs existed, today I find myself feeling a little like giving up. You know, giving up this writing thing. I won’t do it of course but there’s just that urge to say fuck it and get a job at Starbucks, or, as I’m so fond of joking, be a greeter at Walmart.

I realize I’m just feeling sorry for myself (and really, for no good reason–nothing’s changed in my writing world, which admittedly might be part of the problem). This type of self pity is similar to work avoidance in that it feels a bit legitimate. I’ve been doing this for this many years and what have I accomplished? Of course I should quit! It’s kind of the same as saying I’ll get to work as soon as I sharpen all these pencils because otherwise, what will I write with?

There’s this thing that I know exists, but I don’t often hear it spoken of. It’s writer’s jealousy. If left unchecked, it can be a potent poison, and I think I’ve been letting it get to me. This is where I need to put on the blinders and say the good fortune that other writers have has nothing to do with me–and to call it good fortune is a bit disrespectful because it doesn’t take into account all of the hard work, the time spent, and the patience that other writers have put into their own craft. Regardless, I’m happy for all of their good fortune and writer’s jealousy isn’t based on resentment about what they’ve accomplished it’s about my own perceived failure.

This post isn’t a prelude to me giving up, not at all. It’s simply me putting it out there, I’m feeling bummed, impatient, bitter. It happens to us all, no matter what we do, no matter what our goals. The best way to combat it is to simply take the next step or another step in whatever it is that’s going to get you closer to where you want to be. In my case, it’s getting a few hundred words written. So I think I’ll end this here and get to work.

A few days ago I got an update from GoodReads telling me what my “friends” had reviewed that week. I don’t generally read them in depth, I just give them a cursory look to see if there’s any reviews by my actual friends or of books I want to read.

In this particular update, I noticed an author had rated his own book and gave it a 5-star rating, natch. In the actual review he indicated he was the author, so full disclosure, no problem, right?

I don’t know, I kind of have a problem with it. It seems like cheating, you know? I posted this question on Twitter and one of my author friends said the 5-star rating he gave his own book gives it a negligible boost in the overall rating. Said author friend further justified the practice by saying it kind of evens out the unfair, 1-star ratings a book gets, you know, the kind that say “I haven’t even read this book but I’m giving it 1-star because the cover is ugly.”

I’m not convinced. Still feels like cheating to me.

I’m not published yet so perhaps I will feel different when I am. But right now, as a reader, I don’t like it.

What say you?

Awhile back, the super-terrific Steve Weddle invited me to do a guest post on the Do Some Damage blog, wherein I wrote:

Joining Twitter was the best thing I’ve done for my writing career.

About this, I do not joke. Virtually every opportunity I’ve had with regard to writing has come about due to Twitter, or more accurately, people I’ve met on Twitter.

For example, I’ve had four agents contact me via Twitter asking me to submit my manuscript after seeing my profile (which is essentially just a link to my query letter).

At first, my only goal was to learn about the publishing industry and I followed every writer/publisher/agent/editor I could find. I did a lot of listening and a little interacting. It didn’t take long to become a part of the community, but the key here is creating relationships—not just promoting your latest book.

The whole subject of promotion on social media has been on my mind for awhile. Obviously, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with promoting oneself on Twitter or elsewhere online–I promote myself, my own work, and the work of others regularly. I’m tempted to say I’ve earned the right to this since I’ve taken the time to create relationships, as I mention above. But that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing to earn or not earn (well, there is, but I’ll cover that later).

So what the hell is the problem?

Well, I’m not 100% sure there is one. I only know that Twitter is a lot less interesting/valuable for me than it used to be. Let me explain.

There is a certain type of book promotion going on that I find really annoying. It goes something like this:

Pls RT- NEW #REVIEW of THE DIARY OF A FRUSTRATED WRITER by H.M.F. West http://xxxxx #books#reading#readers#Prime#kindle

or

Great #vacationreading ROUND ‘EM ALL UP: A Larry Miller Hog-Tying Mystery: http://xxxxxx #books#reading#readers#Prime#kindle

or

What happens when chocolate cake just isn’t enough? GET IN MY BELLY by Tessie McMahon http://xxxxx #Kindle#Books#AmReading#GoodReads

And on and on. Sometimes nearly every other tweet in my feed looks like this. I pretty much follow every writer type who follows me, but it’s led to an influx of these type of tweets and it makes me sad. Then it makes me feel like unfollowing a crap load of tweeters.

It seems to be a result of the self-publishing revolution, which I am, in general, a big fan of. I might very well become a self-published author myself soon. This means I’m paying close attention to what other self-published authors do to promote themselves. Could somebody please tell me what marketing/PR book everyone read that led to the spred of the kind of promotion I’ve indicated above? I want to stay as far away from it as possible.

As judgmental as this all sounds, I am in no way disparaging how people choose to market themselves. I’m only questioning if these particular techniques are effective, because honestly, I can’t see how they could be. The multiple hashtag approach leaves me cold. The cutsie blurbs followed by a link and yes, more hashtags that tempt me to unfollow you, not read your book.

Tell me, people, am I missing something here? Is it that I’m just not the right audience and therefore this type of promotion rankles instead of enticing me to buy?

Let me quickly get back to what I said earlier about “earning” the right to promote. What I really meant was YOU earning the right to promote to ME, not the other way around (although it definitely goes both ways). There are people I wouldn’t unfollow if they tried to sell me swamp land in Florida multiple times every day. Why? Because they’re my homies. We’ve been tweeting back and forth for months now, sometimes years. I don’t hesitate to promote their work and they don’t (seem to) hesitate to promote mine. But I like to think we’re all engaging in “thoughtful promotion” and in between all the “buy my book” tweets there is some actual conversation going on. We support each other, not just on Twitter, but across the Internet and sometimes, even in person.

That doesn’t mean you have to be my homie to promote your stuff to me. It just means that if your tweets annoy me, the decision to unfollow is a whole lot easier to make.

That sounds mean, doesn’t it? I don’t mean it to be. I’m actually a pretty nice person. I still love Twitter. I guess all I really wanted to say is that it’s a little less fun for me than it used to be.

“And so I betake myself to that course, which is almost as much as to see myself go into my grave: for which, and all the discomforts that will accompany my being blind, the good God prepare me!” – Samuel Pepys

As you can see, I’ve got a new home on the web. I wasn’t going to post anything here until tomorrow as I’m still “populating” the new website, but something happened today that I thought was worthy of a short post.

You see, the famous restoration diarist, Samuel Pepys, recorded the last entry in his journal on this day 1669. Modern readers have a variety of resources for reading Mr. Pepys historic diary, but since I started writing Diary of Bedlam, my favorite has been the daily postings by Phil Gyford on The Diary of Samuel Pepys website. You can read the last entry here.

Writers like me owe a huge debt of gratitude to Mr. Pepys, for his diary is an invaluable documentation of what life was like in late 17th century London. Diary of Bedlam takes place several years after Mr. Peyps’s diary ends, but his record of Charles II’s London was a cornerstone of my research.

And so I will take this opportunity both to introduce you to my new website and to thank Mr. Gyford for creating the Pepys Diary website. What a wonderful project.