Never Give Up

In mystery novels, as in life, it’s all a matter of perspective. Depending on their positions in the room, characters will see different things. A witness’ memory is a frail thing at best, failing the truth despite best intentions. Misinterpretation and preconceived notions are the enemies of accurate reporting, adding to the confusion. Evidence is a somewhat better source, but only if investigators successfully sift through the mountain of irrelevant material to find the meaningful pieces of evidence hiding in plain sight.

Sifting and sorting through the details of the novel, scene by scene, chapter by chapter, I soon felt like I was drowning. Not only was I trying to deconstruct the original story, but I was creating a new book out of the ashes of the old. The characters were a decade older, so I had to figure out how their relationships with the people in the story had changed. What motivated the murderer? For that matter, who was the murderer? And why did my amateur detective get involved in the case in the first place?

Answering those questions gave me a fresh perspective on the story and the characters soon began to take their places on stage, waiting to deliver their lines. I still had to write them, creating the scenes that would bring the drama and tragedy of their actions to life, but by the end of the first week, it was starting to take shape. And I hadn’t written much of anything yet.

The other challenge I faced was shifting the main character from third person to first person perspective, a change I felt was warranted to bring the reader closer to the lead character and her world. That alone would take some very picky editorial work, ferreting out every third person reference (I can’t tell you how many hundreds of references to “her” and “she” I changed).

I took a cue from the creators of Dramatica Pro, Melanie Anne Phillips and Chris Huntley, and started to deconstruct the manuscript into its component story throughlines. Five character throughlines provided the perspectives of the murderer, several suspects and the amateur sleuth, while a six throughline covered the events leading up to a pivotal event in the story. Throughlines are a powerful method for tracking a character or subplot from beginning to end. I found it exposed missing elements and structural weaknesses, enabling me to quickly address problem areas that I likely would not have seen in the context of the entire book.

As I came down to the wire the weekend of October 10th, I needed to integrate all the pieces of the book into a cohesive whole and run a final edit on the entire manuscript in time to put it in the mail on October 14th (my goal was to have it in New York on October 15th). Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that weekend. Despite my efforts, I was not going to make the deadline unless I could free up one more full day to focus on the book. I took my last remaining vacation day and worked until midnight, finishing the manuscript. I wrapped up the final editorial on Tuesday night and prepared the manuscript for mailing on Wednesday.

That was when the train went off the tracks. The competition information on the website was written in a singularly confusing manner, and I must admit that I misread the requirements. Although the manuscript was due October 15th, applicants were advised to submit the entry form, which was only available by mail. And the package was supposed to be sent to a judge, whose address would be sent along with the entry form.

So, I’m standing in my office, staring at this convoluted language while I realize that I’ve spent the better part of a month preparing for a competition I will be unable to enter and I’m surprised by my reaction. I didn’t care because I hadn’t written the book for them. I realize that I’ve done all this work for me and nothing, least of all an incompetent copy-writer of competition rules, is going to stop me from taking this book to market. I scroll through the webpage and discover that the Edgar First Crime Novel competition has a deadline in November. So, I draft a letter and send it off, requesting the entry form and judge’s name and address. Life is so good. I’m entering the Edgar competition.

When the letter arrived in November with the entry form and my judge’s mailing information, I had that little rush of happiness that comes over you when you realize there’s no place to go but up. I put that package together (carefully checking everything so I missed no detail) and sent it off.

Then I jumped right off the cliff, posting an announcement on Facebook that I had entered the competition. That was harder than sending the manuscript, but I felt like I owed it to myself to own my success or failure in front of family and friends. Lots of wonderful comments and support. I dropped a line to Karen Gilb, thanking her again.

Kicking back with a virtual glass of sherry by the fire. A good month’s work and more to come. I am galvanized and working anew on my other project.

Just Think Differently.