Publishing Pains

While I've self-published two books with a co-author, I have a persistent fantasy that it would be easier if I simply sent a manuscript off in the mail with a note to the publisher: "Gone to the south of France. I’ll be in touch."  Alas, no such note has been necessary as the work was all done by my co-author and me.

I also had two friends review the books. After the review of the second book, which resulted in very helpful comments, it took us another several months to make changes and improve its readability. The length of time was, in fact, protracted--exacerbated by a lengthy trip to, well, the south of France.  But not even counting the hiatus, it was a lot of work—not the original writing, but the editing.  

It's been a satisfying process, but not without its struggles.  And the result?  We have two books that, it turns out, need to be marketed.  Just when I thought we were finished and ready to turn our attention to book number three, I find myself scanning the ether for quick marketing fixes.  The notion of writing a book, publishing a book, and then writing another book is a myth.  If I want to write, I have to be satisfied with the circular nature of the total experience.  Clearly I'm not in it for the fame.

Do you have similar stories to share? 

Mother's Day Humor

In keeping with Mother’s Day yesterday, my two youngest sons were around for dinner.  And a nice dinner it was.  But with dinner came an unexpected surprise. 

Surviving sons, L-R and youngest to oldest: Sam, Patrick, Seth

There’s a span of 17 years between my youngest and oldest sons.  The two younger sons are closer together than the middle and older.  The middle child, Patrick, is only six years older than his younger brother, Sam—older enough to have persuaded Sam to do things he shouldn’t have and also older enough to have persuaded his mother that he had nothing to do with it. 

This evening over dinner, I heard about yet another incident involving the creek that runs behind the house.  The story goes that when the water in the creek was high and swift, the boys would ride the rapid toward the concrete culvert, which passed under the roads (and all the way to the American River a few miles away) until they thought they might get sucked in.  And when that was not enough, Patrick would dare Sam to jump the span from one slippery side to the other in return for five dollars.  That would, of course, be five dollars he never actually received—as big brothers are wont not to pay up.

I fail to comprehend how these boys survived to become the kind, gentle, funny, bright men they are today.  Miraculously, they were not impaled on rusty bicycle spokes poking out of the mud or drowned after being sucked under and into the culvert only to be spewed out at the river and never seen again.  They didn’t break their ankles while making the leap from bank to slippery bank.  They didn’t develop any dreaded disease from ingesting malevolent bacteria found in the water.  They were never treated for lockjaw from having been scratched by a rusty discarded supermarket cart. 

And best of all, they didn’t lose their sense of humor over the retelling of these hair-raising tales within earshot of their mother.  They experience a perverse pleasure in watching me gape slack-jawed in horror at their descriptions, racking my brain in search of clues I must have missed.  Alas, there were none.  In fact, even if I had sensed something amiss, Patrick was so skillful at covering his tracks that I never would have given it a second thought—the evidence notwithstanding.

Such is the life of tolerant mothers with adult children who possess an infinite capacity for memories.  Fortunately for them, this mother is both loving and, at least in part, responsible for that sense of humor they haven’t lost.      

Grapefruit Chicken

Velouté of potiron (pumpkin) with foie gras garnish.*

Just yesterday I posted a new picture of my cheese soufflé — probably the last one of the season.  Since the days are getting much warmer, I don’t use the oven as much.  I often, however, feed what seem like hoards--friendly hoards, I'm glad to say.  And since we’re not red meat eaters, I make a lot of chicken, turkey and fish using a dizzying array of recipes—most involving wine, freshly-ground black pepper and olive oil (sometimes butter).  I found this particular recipe some time ago and copied it into my leather-bound recipe journal.  I’d like to give credit to the person who published it, but I haven’t a clue where it came from.  I freely admit that I didn’t invent it.I can't imagine what took me so long to try it.  It’s hands down the best chicken breast recipe I’ve made in a long time.  And it’s easy, of course.  What chicken breast recipe isn’t, frankly? 

Here are the ingredients and the recipe for two (a quantity I rarely use.  I double only some of the ingredients for additional people--not quite double the butter, for example.):

2 chicken breasts

2 T olive oil

¼ c. dry vermouth (or white wine)

Fresh ground pepper (of course)

1 pink grapefruit—rind cut off and sections removed

Fresh parsley, chopped

2 T butter

One small onion, sliced thinly

One garlic clove, scored

In a sauté pan, heat the olive oil.  Brown the chicken breasts on both sides.  Add onions and garlic and cook until soft and browned.  Add vermouth and pepper.  Turn heat to low and cover the pan.  Cook until chicken is cooked through—about 20 minutes.  Remove chicken to serving dish.  Reduce liquid by about half.  Set aside four slices of grapefruit.  Add butter, remaining grapefruit sections and juice to the pan.  Cook for five to 10 minutes on medium-low heat.  Plate or serve chicken with juice and two grapefruit sections atop each chicken breast.  Sprinkle with ground pepper and chopped parsley. 

I cooked this in an enameled cast iron pot on medium-low heat (I love that pot!) and served it with risotto and salad.  Son Patrick, his girlfriend and my husband raved.  And both Patrick and his girlfriend asked for the recipe.  That’s high praise.  

*Since I couldn't find a photo of a grapefruit in my folder and don't have one to photograph, I've added one of the Christmas dinner courses from Frejus, France.

How to Co-Write a Mystery Novel

As interest in our recently-published second book has grown, I’ve been questioned about how my co-author, Dimity Hammon, and I have been able to write these mysteries as a team.  I have heard stories about the difficulties--broken friendships, mounting tension, vying for control, giving up, legal action, and worse.  It hasn’t seemed all that difficult for Dimity and me, though one of the first “how-to” books I picked up on writing said, “If you’re considering co-authoring a book, don’t!”  Too late for us as we had already committed to making it work. 

My advice to those “thinking” about collaborating with someone else on a book is to be clear about why you want to write it with someone else.  Make sure your motives are reasonable.  And those motives might be:  the other person has some expertise in an area that you do not; the other person has experience writing that you do not; or best of all, you love the concept of being creative with another person.  If you’re satisfied that you’re doing it for the right reasons, get the practical details settled up front.  Those details include at least the following topics:

1.    What is the basic story line and how do you create it? 

We created our story threads together, using an initial idea from one of us and building on that.  It’s a stimulating and productive process when co-authors can feed on each other’s ideas.  It can be exciting and fun, but it only works if both parties are open to the rejection of their ideas.  While the creative process is all wrapped up in ego, it’s not possible to write together if your ego gets in the way. 

2.    How will you communicate? 

My writing space

For Dimity and me, we began by exchanging e-mails—many e-mails.  Over a short time, we began to use Skype—primarily without video so we could have a document on the screen while talking about it.  Since starting the first book, we have been together face to face a few times.  It would have been preferable to spend more time together than we did.  It worked for us, but it won’t work for everyone.

3.    How often will you communicate? 

This will vary according to how much time you both spend writing.  For us, there were times of great intensity when we would talk every day or every other day.  Dimity works part-time from her home, so our connections worked around that.  Now we both work part-time, which makes it a little more difficult.  But your own situation will dictate the frequency with which you can be in touch.  And we were respectful of one another’s obligations with family, work, travel.  While we both wanted the books to proceed expeditiously, we had to be flexible about the “down time.” 

4.    Who will be the “keeper” of the documents? 

We housed the drafts and finals on my computer, but we sent them back and forth via e-mail, which gave us comfort that nothing would be irretrievably lost if my computer crashed.  I don’t believe it would have mattered where the document had been kept.  I just happen to be a little more controlling than my co-author so I kept them. 

5.    Who will submit the work for publishing?

We published through Amazon and CreateSpace (Amazon’s paper publishing arm).  I submitted and edited the work that had been submitted, when necessary.  For both books, the preparation for final submission was tricky and took many hours of collaboration of both of us on Skype. 

6.    Who will receive the royalties (and may incur the tax liability depending on what kind of agreement you have) and how will the profits be divided? 

This, of course, is a basic decision that should be made up front.  Do you form a partnership or enter into a joint venture agreement?  There are resources available on line, and, of course, I would never dissuade anyone from consulting an attorney.  Regardless, you have to make decisions about this key issue, including what happens in the event of your death. 

7.    Who will edit?

We both both edited separately using “track changes” in Microsoft Word, then combined our edits, agreeing on each one as it was accepted or rejected or changed (while talking on Skype).  Except for few instances, we agreed on each other’s suggestions.  There were occasional stubborn disagreements over a word or a phrase, but we worked it out without rancor and in the end were both satisfied.  Regardless what each of us has written, we have to be totally honest about what works and what doesn’t.  And each of us has to be willing—really willing—to be steered away from one idea and accepting of another.  The co-authoring experience does not thrive on obstinacy and inflexibility.   

Dimity and I write differently, but we both have strengths and we take full advantage of those.  The stories have a way of growing and changing until they’re where we want them to be.  That wouldn’t have happened the same way without the charge of energy that we give each other when coming up with new ideas, allowing ourselves to wind through a story concept until we get to the right place, rejecting and accepting each other's ideas as we go.  The process worked for us and we continue to write together.  Our writing has improved over the two books, and will continue to get better with practice.  It has certainly worked for us.