Choose Wisely

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda ..."

The end of the year approaches and it's time to begin making those resolutions that will carry you into the new year. Maybe this will be the year you choose to lose the weight. Maybe it will be the year you choose to pay the bills. Maybe it's the year you choose to quit the butts. Maybe it's the year you choose to make the move to a new job or a new town. Maybe it's the year you choose to work up the courage to take that trip around the world. Hey, maybe it's the year you choose to become the full time writer.

The point is that so many resolutions will get made and another year will pass in which the only thing that changes is our age. The inevitable choice we make will be not to choose at all. Fear can be a real hobbler when you're trying to step ahead in life. Only when you realize that death is following you every step of the way, will you suddenly become aware of the limited time you have left on the planet. Sadly, most people never come to this realization and they die the worst way possible: Not trying.

I was raised in a household that stressed fear. Fear of everything. One step outside the norm and you were somehow punished. You were told which schools to go to, which churches to pray at, which friends were good and which were bad, and when it came time to choose a career, it was already chosen for you. Breaking free of the bondage proved a mammoth task for me, but I did it.

My dad was a great provider and strong community leader. He was an all around good guy. But at the same time, he became my shining example of how not to go through life. He could have been a world class musician had he followed his heart. But instead he chose to do what he was told to do (he could be a musician "on the side"). It was safer that way and yet, paradoxically, I can't help but believe that his life choices somehow contributed to his early death.

Quite literally, he had wanted me to live the same life he did. Expected me to make the same choices as if mimicking my father would have provided him with a kind of validation that he was surly missing ... An assurance that he had made the right moves. But I couldn't be like him, and I rebelled and went my own way. Despite more than a few setbacks during the journey, I've never looked back.
 
I'm always fascinated by friends and acquaintances who will come up to me and tell me I have a great life. "I wish I was you, traveling all over the place, being your own boss." I ask them why they don't don't do the same. They usually scratch their head, tell me their wife/husband would never allow it, or there's no money, or the job sucks but at least it's a job. Amazingly, some of these people are rich and have far more funds than I do to spend doing precisely what they want with their life. Still, they are afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid to break free of the norm, of the suburb, of the life that is vanishing so quickly.

I look at them, into them, and I see the mortality that is greying the whites of their eyes on a daily basis. My heart goes out to them because they aren't living at all. They are existing ... A walking, bipedal mass of wasted energy.

We all have choices. Everyday is a new day and a new opportunity to choose who you want to be and how you want to do it. It's never too late. Choose wisely. You won't get today back ever again.

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Vincent Zandri, Inc.

It's Father's Day and I'm experiencing one of those moments that seem to only occur on a Sunday when you have a few spare moments to reflect not only on the past week, but on the month and even years that have so quickly passed.

I'm just entering into the tail end of one of those great sales waves, where I go from selling anywhere from thirty to one-hundred books a day to three or four-hundred per day. Last May was the best single sales month I've experienced as an author in two years, and I have both my fans to thank and the powerful marketing efforts put forth by my major hybrid publisher, Thomas and Mercer of Amazon Publishing (also Amazon UK Publishing), along with my indie publisher, StoneHouse/StoneGate Ink. Thanks to both I enjoyed a tremendous response to Murder by Moonlight, The Concrete Pearl, The Innocent, and Moonlight Falls. What's interesting to note is that, one of these novels is thirteen years old (The Innnocent). Another is four years old (Moonlight Falls). One of them has entered into its second edition with a second publisher (The Concrete Pearl) and another is brand new (Murder by Moonlight).

I"m still working off a "very nice" advance at Thomas & Mercer but after 8 solid months of working with them, I can see how effective partnering up with them for 7 books has been.

In a few weeks I'll be leaving for ITW "Thrillerfest" in Manhattan. In the old days, I used to attend conferences to attract publishers and to cozy up to editors. Nowadays, I attend them to reach out to my fans and also to have a laugh or two with other writers. In this new world of publishing, I no longer think of myself as belonging to any one publisher. I think of myself as Vincent Zandri, Inc. I don't just have one publisher or publishing method. I'm exploring many publishing methods and opportunities.


My next experiment will be to partner up with my agent Chip MacGregor on a new series of international thrillers beginning with the novel, CHASE (You might recall I went to Egypt some months ago to research this book. I also just returned from Peru where I was researching what will become the second in the series). Chip has created several imprints for his authors. His crew edits, formats, creates cover art, and promotes the books it publishes. This is not to say Chip is a publisher. He's not. He's an agent who is providing an opportunity for authors to partner up in a book producing venture. If the books he puts out sell well and a major pub wants to buy one or two out, the imprint/author contract can be broken at any moment. It's a win/win for everyone.

Like I said, it's Father's day and I write for a living, so this blog should end while I head out to spend some much needed time with the fam damily. After all, they put up with my writing life day in and day out, and I know that sometimes it can be hard living with a writer who isn't always home for them, even when he is home. But I love them dearly.
 
To Purchase MURDER BY MOONLIGHT for Dad go to:

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Should You Go to Writing School?

I get asked this question a lot for obvious reasons. I went to writing school and I’m not afraid to advertise that fact. I’m proud of what I accomplished there back in the mid to late 1990s. The work was hard, but enjoyable since writing and reading were also a hobby at the time, and the students, for the most part, were good, decent people.

Of course, there were some assholes who couldn’t wait to shit on your work as soon as you walked through the workshop door. But many of these same people are history now, not having published a word once they were given their diplomas. Most likely they now sell insurance or have drunk themselves to death. One can only hope.

But at the time, writing school was a necessary evil for me. I had no idea I would actually write for a living. I thought I would live the cush life of the writing professor. You know, write a novel every five years or so, publish it with a small publisher, bang the crap out of my pretty young adoring female students. Seemed like a nice life to me. But in order to live that life, I first needed my MFA.
These days, for the most part, MFA programs are a scam and a sham. They have sprung up all over the place simply because of the demand. People feel like writers when they are enrolled in a writing program. Problem is, after dropping 30 or 40K it’s more than likely they will never see their work published commercially. They might venture to self-publish, now that DIYing it is hot shit. But the work will probably be mediocre and not attract an audience the way a work published by a major publisher could (or a hotshot indie publisher/small press).

But writing school was a good time. I drank like crazy, spent days and nights on speed, fucked like a rabbit, and yeah, got some writing done too. It was an escape, but not entirely. I was there to work hard and work hard I did. I was determined to be a success one day.
Was the experience worth the cost in the end? For me it was. My creative thesis turned into my first full-length power novel: The Innocent (or, As Catch Can). Mind you, the version I worked on at school was very different. The writing teacher who advised me during my last semester suggested all sorts of cuts and revisions, which I did to please him. But as soon as I got back to New York, I put the cuts back in and reversed the revisions. The book was originally bought by Delacorte Press only a year after graduation in a mid-six figure deal, and went on to sell hundreds of thousands of copies. It still sells at bestseller levels today now that it’s on its third publisher in 13 years. So much for writing school advice.

So, do you need to go to writing school?

The choice is entirely yours. You will meet some like-minded people who will be your friends for life, and you will meet some of the most crappy souled assholes in the world who want nothing more than to crush you and your talent. They are the jealous type. You will meet professors who are old and washed up and who will hit on you. But you will also meet some genuinely great teachers who embrace the fact that teaching writing is as much a spiritual calling as the writing itself.
I’ll say it again. The choice is yours. Do you want to be a serious writer who makes his or her living from words? If that’s the case, writing school can teach you a lot. It’s what you make of it. But if you just want a place to escape to in which you can play pretend writer, save your money and sell insurance.

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