Ten Short Story/Novelette Challenge and Paradox Lake

 

So I'm taking a little advice from the great Dean Wesley Smith and challenging myself to write ten short stories and/or novelettes in ten weeks. Thus far I've managed to write two or three (already I'm losing count).  But I also write for an Influencer out in L.A., so things have been pretty busy around here. Today, I didn't get much word count in on the newest novelette, The Devil Won't Have You, but I'll be back at it tomorrow. 

The docs want me to have a cat scan of my lungs tomorrow in the wake of my Covid infection even though I'm asymptomatic, running three miles per day, spending an hour lifting weight, hitting the heavy bag, etc. But you know how doctors can be. If you don't have a problem, they are damn well gonna try and find one. 

Speaking of Covid, I had my second shot today, so I'm that much closer to international travel. Yesterday I was a bit panicked when the state department announced a travel ban to another 135 countries. Anyone get the feeling they are building a sort of Berlin Wall around us while letting tens of thousands of undocumented people through the southern border? Something smells fishy to me. 

In any case, I began to feel better about the travel situation when President Macron of France did the right thing by announcing the country would open up to vaccinated American tourists in May. I'm hoping Italy follows suit. Today some of my good friends over there confirmed that Italy would be open for the fall season. That happens, I will head to Turkey for a few weeks in September and perhaps head directly to Italy, maybe for a few months. The exact length of my stay remains to be seen, but with all the rules and restrictions still currently in place, one thing is for sure, once I get out, I'm gonna stay out for a while. 

Next month, my newest and greatest full-length thriller, Paradox Lake, will be released from Oceanview Publishing in hardcover, eBook, and brilliant audio. I hope you pick it up. If you loved The Remains and The Ashes, you'll absolutely love this one too. 

WWW.VINZANDRI.COM

 

Bestseller Status: It takes a Hell of a Lot of Work ...

This weekend I'll be a speaker at The Next Bestseller Workshop in New York City, or should I say, Virtual New York City, where I'll be talking about some of my bestselling books, and how they came to be. I'll also be talking about books that didn't reach bestseller status but that nonetheless sell steadily day in and day out. I'll even mention the dogs that hardly sell at all (in other words, not even my mother will buy them). Full transparency here.

At one point, I will be asked, what are two things that can potentially keep at least some of my books, or future books, in bestseller status. I've given this some thought, so here goes: 

1). Perseverance, Proliferation, Publication

 As a writer, you must always be playing the long game. This is not a get rich quick scheme, anymore than it's an overnight success story. Sure the success comes overnight, but after many nights spent without success. You also need to write a lot, depending on your genre. As a hard-boiled mystery writer for the most part, I write a lot of words everyday and I put out a lot of books and stories with a lot of different publishers, big and small. I also publish independently. This is on top of my journalistic and freelance writing endeavors. 

Each book is another chance at topping the bestseller lists and also making it to the movies or TV. The publishers you use (or don't use) can have a lot to do with bestseller status. The Amazon Imprints virtually guarantee big sales, but that's not always the case. Many of their authors don't see a lot of sales right off the bat and they are usually shown the door. Their books are also not sold at indie bookstores nor the chains. You also won't hit the New York Times bestseller list with an Amazon Imprint book. At one point I had 9 books with the Amazon Imprint, Thomas & Mercer, the largest seller of which was The Remains.  

But I've also had publishers who have literally screwed my books up. Back in 1999 I signed with a major for $250K for my novel, The Innocent, but the editor changed the title to As Catch Can, which was a big mistake. The hardcover art was botched too. In the end, the book sold very little. After I got my rights back, I changed the title back to The Innocent. It was republished by a smaller publisher who did a terrific job with new cover art, and the book sold 100K units in a single month. It stayed on the Amazon Overall Bestseller list in Kindle Books for weeks, second only to The Lincoln Lawyer which was a major movie at the time. 

I've had other publishers, one in particular whom I won't name, but who for some reason gets great press in PW and elsewhere. Said publisher not only botched the editing process to several of my titles, but provided almost no marketing. The owner then gets himself his own book deal, so now his main focus seems to be selling his own books. This might not bother other authors, but it doesn't sit right with me. A publisher's main priority should be its authors. And did I mention they never send out statements or royalty checks when they are legally obligated? A publisher like this can damage your career, at least for a while, so beware.

2). Luck

While you might be over the moon when you finally get your first book deal, you must keep in mind that success depends not only on the amount of marketing and advertising you do, it also depends an awful lot on luck. There has always been a certain amount of luck involved in the books that have done the best for me. In other words, the books that did the best were in the right place at the right time. It's an inexplicable thing, when you think about it. The books that didn't sell as well, and that should have sold well, based on the sales of similar books, can't be explained either, other than they just didn't enjoy the same luck the bestseller did. 

The point is to hang in there, keep writing like your life depends upon it, and choose your publishers carefully. It takes a hell of a lot of work, but it's better than having a real job. 

WWW.VINZANDRI.COM

 

  

Merry Christmas America (Are We Dead Yet?)

A few years back, Xmas in Rome.

 

Yes, I'm writing on Christmas morning, but that's not my choice, it's sort of my duty. A long time ago when I was studying and writing at The Breadloaf Writer's Conference, the novelist Tim O'Brien kindly took me under his wing, personally critiqued a short story of mine which was then called Portrait, and which later became the novel, When Shadows Come (a novel that was orphaned prior to its release from Thomas & Mercer when the editor jumped ship--something that happens a lot over there. But as usual, I digress). 

In the middle of going over the story, sometimes line by line, he with red pencil in hand and trademark Boston Red Sox baseball cap on his head, lit cigarette between his lips, suddenly asked, "Hey you don't happen to have any coke on you?" 

I was sorely disappointed I didn't. 

In any case, when we were through he said...and I'll never forget it..."One day, you're going to be more famous than you are now. You will have fans, and they will expect a lot out of you. They will, in some cases, become more needy than your wives (yes, he used the plural), and you will need to put out for them. That means you will be writing on your birthday, when you are sick with the flu, when you are happy, and when you are depressed. You will be writing ON CHRISTMAS DAY, whether you like it or not." 

So there you have it, readers. It's Christmas and I will spend my day or most of it anyway, working on novel edits. But let me say, Merry Christmas to you all. Some might find that offensive but I'm not woke, and shall forever remain asleep, metaphorically speaking, I guess. 2020 is about to come to an end and let's hope the door slaps it on the ass on the way out. 

I still recall standing inside a bar in Lake Placid last New Years Eve as a blizzard was blowing outside. I had a pool cue in hand, and was watching the wall mounted TV while my GF was beating me at pool. The report about a virus outbreak in China sent a chill down my spine. At that point it was still a small story in the grand scheme of things, but I recall saying half under my breath to said GF, "This is going to be bad. This is going to be very, very bad." And bad it became. 

I'm not fond of the Grateful Dead, and in fact, I hate their music (I prefer old punk rock), but I'm reminded of their song that goes What a Long Strange Trip it's Been. It's raining outside my window. I had planned on skiing today (sorry Tim), but the grass outside my writing studio looks like a putting green. There's hardly any planes in the air and many fewer cars on the road. Carbon emissions are way down. Why isn't it snowing AOC? But again, I digress. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, it doesn't feel like Christmas. In fact, the whole year doesn't feel like we've progressed, but if anything, regressed into this population of fenced in individuals who are slowly going insane with boredom, loneliness, financial ruin, and despair (BTW, my profound thanks to the US government for pulling through with stimulus for normal everyday folks who will visit the food lines today instead of enjoying a nice Xmas dinner. The US government is broken and you only have yourself to blame...You know precisely who you are. Enjoy your ice cream, Nancy. And Mitch, I hope you're sipping only the best Kentucky bourbon today with a big fat cigar stuffed in your mouth. You both should be drawn and quartered in public...once more, I digress). 

But it almost feels like we've actually succumbed to the disease and simply don't know it yet. Like a person who's suddenly dropped dead and sort of hangs around for a while as a ghost. Or maybe we're all in purgatory. Who knows? But then, election fraud was real, not that anybody cares. The rent is still due, and the price of chicken has doubled if not tripled in just just a few months. These things are reality. 

So than, I can bitch and moan all I want, but on the other hand, I am thankful for my health, my relative youth, my publishers (Yet another notable outfit approached me the other day and said they would love a Zandri novel in their catalogue, God bless them...I remember when I couldn't find a publisher to save my life. Now they come to me in some cases), my family, my kids, my mom, my life (which is blessed in every sense of the word), my God, my travels, my country (as busted up as it is), and what lies in store for the future. It's got to be better than this. My hopes are that very, very soon, all us dead folk will be resurrected. 

Today, you can get my brand new release, CHASE BAKER AND THE ARK OF GOD for special intro price. You can also get my brand new big 4.8 star thriller, THE GIRL WHO WASN'T THERE there also for a special holiday price. Last but never least, THE EMBALMER, the pilot novel in the Steve Jobs PI series is just 0.99 since it's a Bargain Booksy promo for 24 hours. 

It's Christmas morning so no doubt you'll want to fill up that new Kindle eReader you just unwrapped. 

A very Merry Xmas to you all, and a Happy and prosperous New Year. 

WWW.VINZANDRI.COM

 

  

   

Advice for New Writers

Hunter was a new writer once

I've been asked by New York Times bestselling mega author Cheryl Bradshaw to contribute to her new nonfiction book on writing. She asked me what advice I have for new and/or young newbie writers just starting out. That said, I thought I would get my thoughts in order by first writing it down here. So here, goes. 

New Writers Should Read a Lot

In their genre, that is. If you're going to write action/thrillers, read and watch a whole lot of action/thrillers. Forget the crap they make you read in the English classes in high school. Chances are they choose books that are "woke" and inclusive and, even if they're good, it's not the stuff you should be reading. Unless you want to, that is. Read what you love, and one day you will love what you write. 

New Writers Should Write a Lot

That means ass in the chair time. What did some genius surmise about mastering one's art? You need 10,000 hours of practice until you can perfect your craft. That's of course, a bunch of BS, but it sounds good. But the fact remains, writing is a like a muscle. You either use it or lose it. You need to write everyday, no matter what comes your way. COVID-19, war, famine, divorce(s), sick kids, piles of bills that haven't been paid, Christmas, your birthday, whatever. Like Picasso said to his buddy when said buddy asked him why he never spent more time with his kids. "Because I never would have accomplished anything," Picasso responded. 

New Writers Shouldn't Chase Trends

I'm partially guilty of this by doing things like putting "Girl" in one of my titles, The Girl Who Wasn't There. But that's as far as I go. If you're already telling yourself you're going to write the next Harry Potter, well, that ship has sailed, my friend. Remember the vampire bandwagon? And chick lit? I just kept on writing what I loved to read, which in my case is crime and psychological suspense, among other genres. This keeps me writing everyday, and enjoying my job. If you chase trends, chances are, by the time you've finished your book, the trend will have passed. That's why they're called trends. 

New Writers Should Publish Independently and Traditionally

The old ways of publishing are dying not a slow death, but because of this horrid pandemic, a rapid death. I predict that within a couple of years, the majority of major authors will be selling directly to their audience rather than going through a publisher. Or, like me, they will do both (I put out so much material no way a single publisher could handle it all, unless they want to pay me millions which they don't). Speaking of advances: since there are currently only 4 big publishers left, advances will be getting smaller and smaller and smaller. I started out with a quarter million dollar advance from Delacorte in '99. I've had a bunch of nice and very nice advances since then, but nothing that big. Small advances are the wave of the future which means, look forward to creating multiple streams of income. 

So there you have it. Some advice for the new writer. It's not everything you need to know. But it's food for thought from a 25 year veteran of the professional writing and publishing wars. Take it or flush it. It's up to you. But one thing is for sure, once again, the times are changing, and changing fast. 

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Where have all the Famous Writers Gone?

 

Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, rugged individualist.

Perhaps I should retitle this one, Where have all the infamous writers gone? You know, the bad boys, the drinkers, the snorters, the sniffers, the carousers, the sex fiends, and the brawlers? What happened to the trashed hotel rooms, the crashed cars and motorbikes, the bullfights, the boxing matches, the stabbed wives, the critics with the black eyes, the thousand pound marlin bleeding all over the dock, the overdrawn bank accounts, the unpaid tabs at the Gramercy Park Hotel bar (before it became a namby pamby Ian Schrager millennial hangout), the jail and prison sentences, the drunk appearances on the day-time talk shows, the drunken college speeches, the plane flights to war zones and shit-holes, the guns, the knives, the bombs, the divorces, the affairs, the suicides?  

What happened to the writers who actually live the lives they write about? So many questions, and so few answers.

But there was a time when we read novels about wars written by men and women who went to them, and we never had any doubt about the author’s authenticity. Or the spy novels that took place in the most exotic locals like the South of France, Rome, and Venice. We never doubted that the author spent a great deal of time in those places, losing plenty of money, drinking many martini’s (shaken not stirred) and breaking many hearts along the way. We read about cross country motorcycle trips and about hobos riding the rails during the Great Depression, and we felt secure that the author telling the story was coming at you from real experience. We read about Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and we wondered how it felt for the author to drive a red convertible at breakneck speed along a desert road under the influence of LSD, and a deadly soup of other illicit chemicals.

I’ve always romanticized the writers of old and the writing life. The men and women who lived large, who made the world their playground. Writers who absorbed experiences (good, bad, and sometimes lethal) like a sponge and who were able to write about them with such authority and palpable veracity, that in some cases, they became more famous than their words.

Hemingway comes to mind, of course. The bullfights, the hunting, the fishing, the brawling, the boozing, the wives, the wars. He was inspired by Teddy Roosevelt, himself an adventurer, a hunter, and a prolific writer (someone once wrote that all the Presidency gave him was a severe case of cabin fever). Later would come Norman Mailer, the fighter, the drinker, and the talk show insulter-in-chief, the movie maker, the man who married six times, and the one man I know of who jogged with Muhammad Ali in Africa, lions growling in the near distance. There was Jack Kerouac who most definitely went On the Road, and who can forget the first sentence of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson’s immortal work, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.” Now that’s the life. That’s what it means to be a writer.  

Both authors looked up to Hemingway as their hero. You see a pattern emerging here. Fitzgerald killed himself trying to keep up with the Jones’s and the gin. Capote nearly killed himself while writing and researching In Cold Blood, and McGaune can still out fly fish us all.

These were larger than life characters that stoked our imaginations and in many cases, were the reason we decided to become writers ourselves. I knew from the first day I sat inside an office crunching numbers at my first and only day job, that it wasn’t for me. I yearned for something more, something exciting and as far away from the suburb as I could get. That meant being a writer.

So back to my original question. Where have all the famous writers gone? Maybe they don’t exist anymore in this new age of indie publishing, when pretty much anyone who wants to at least attempt becoming an author can do so. Maybe the democratization of writing has diluted the experience. Or maybe search engines like Google have replaced the need for on-site research. Sure, there are still small wars to go to, but that privilege is usually reserved for the big time television broadcasters who couldn’t write a decent line of fiction if a gun was pointed at their skulls (there are the freelance risk takers…the brave men and women who enter these zones for little or no pay and the hope of maybe publishing a story of two for actual money, but we rarely hear of them).

For certain, writing has become a pursuit that’s born and bred of MFA programs and the writing professors who inhabit them like sniveling, scaly skinned gargoyles. They live cloistered lives inside campus walls, and they know nothing of real life. They will never write anything interesting because they’ve never done anything interesting, and God knows how much uninteresting material they are forced to read day in and day out.

Maybe diversity and political correctness has destroyed the famous writer. Now we publish in part based on the color of one’s skin, or one’s religion and/or non-religion, or gender. Now there are certain words we cannot use, and there are certain ways we cannot write about the opposite sex for fear of insulting someone or other. It’s like the Fascists have indeed won the war. I choose not to subscribe to the #metoo mentality of the modern world, even if it costs me a fan or two. It’s censorship, pure and simple, and it is wrong. It is very bad for writing and writers.

Bring me back to a time when a writer lived life on his own terms and did so flamboyantly and large as hell. A time when you used your fists if you didn’t like what somebody wrote or said about you. A time when skin color or sexual orientation weren’t a prerequisite for publication and/or a reading spot at the local writer’s conference.

A time when much talent trumped everything, along with a hell of a lot of rugged individualism.

    

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Here’s what I’ve Learned after Writing 45 Books

Yesterday I wrote The End, on my forty fifth full-length novel. At this point I now have 40+/- full-length novels in print, some of them traditionally published and agented, others published independently through my own imprint, Bear Media LLC. Up until the great indie revolution of 2008, and the introduction of the Kindle EReader and Kindle Direct Publishing, and all the independent publishers that sprang up because of it, I was relegated to writing maybe one novel per year and praying to God that my agent could sell it. If he couldn’t, it was back to the salt mines for Vince. 

But these days, I write as much as I want, when I want, and most of it gets published one way or another.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as fiction writers, we are living in another golden age of genre fiction not realized since the early days of the Pulp serials back in 1930s, 40’s and 50s. It was a time when a writer could work for a penny a word and make a great living, so long as he or she was prolific, and naturally, very talented.

So after having spent the past eight years writing more novels than many more famous writers will ever write in a lifetime, including dozens of novellas and short stories, here’s a little of what I learned along the way.

--Discipline. Writing a lot of books takes disciple and dedication. It takes waking up in the morning, seating yourself at your writing desk and pumping out the words.

--Talent. The words you pump out must be good, if not great. There’s no pulling the wool over a reader’s eyes. They can tell when you’re feeding them garbage and in return they will reward you with terrible reviews and never read you again.

--Dedication. Like I’ve already mentioned, you need to be disciplined and dedicated. Making a living as a full-time fiction writer is not a sprint, it’s a long, slow, marathon. There will be times when you are exhausted and your bank account is in the red. You will want nothing more than to pack it in. Do not succumb to the dark side. Keep your eyes poised on the long term goal.  

--Naysayers. Never listen to the naysayers and the downers. If I’d listened to one of my best friends years ago who got in my face and said, “You’re not a writer!” I would never have written another word again. 45 novels, many trips trips to the Overall Amazon Top 5 Bestseller List (two number ones!), three spots on the New York Times Bestseller List, seven weeks on the USA Today Bestseller List, the ITW Thriller Award for Best Paperback Original (Moonlight Weeps), the PWA Shamus Award for Best Paperback Original (Moonlight Weeps), a Derringer Award Nomination (I’ve Got to Get Me a Gun), more than half a million bucks in advances, nearly a million editions sold, are but a few of the accomplishments that prove I’m a writer. Of course, I rarely ever hear from the “best friend” these days.

--Jealously. As writers, we live in our own worlds, so it’s easy to let our imaginations get the best of us. On occasion, we become suspicious and envious of others and their successes. Don’t allow this to happen. This isn’t a zero sum game. There’s plenty of success to go around. Just go out and grab your own little share of the pie.

--Rejection. Even after all my relative success, I still get rejected more than accepted. This isn’t Hemingway’s world where he handed a novel to Max Perkins and it was automatically published, warts and all. There are plenty of publishers who wouldn’t take on one of my books if a gun was pressed against their skull. Production companies like Mel Gibson’s and Stallone’s will be in love with one or more of my projects one day and the next, it’s crickets. That’s the nature of the game.

--Success. It seems to come in waves. You go two or three years of Meh, and then suddenly, you’re back on top. The books are flying off the shelves, you’re hitting all the lists, winning the awards, you’re being asked to do interviews with the likes of the New York Times. You’re appearing on Bloomberg TV and Fox News, and you’re a freaking rock star. And then, just as suddenly, it’s radio silence. Enjoy the successes, ride the rejections, and realize that this is a business of peaks and valleys. The highs are never that high and the lows are never that low.

--Discernment. Not everything you write deserves to get published. Yes, it’s never been easier for writers and would-be writers to bypass the traditional gate keepers if they so choose, and self-publish a title or a series. But that doesn’t mean you should. Hire a reputable editor who will tell you flat out, “This book is junk.” Sometimes it’s necessary to reject yourself. Don’t let hubris get in the way of your judgement, or your built-in shit detector. If a work is subpar and you know it, don’t publish it independently or traditionally.

--Fun. I do this for a living. I am a fan of writing and writers. I love typewriters. I love writing studios. I love the writer’s life and the romance of it all. I’ve written in cafés and coffee houses from LA to New York City, to Rome, to Paris, to Istanbul, to Casablanca, to Cairo, to Moscow, to Kathmandu, to Ho Chi Minh City and places I can’t even recall at the moment. As full-time writers and novelists we’ve been given a rare gift. We can work from anywhere. No one ever became a success just sitting in their living room and watching TV. There’s so much life to be lived. Writers should crave exploration and have an insatiable wanderlust. I know I do. So explore the world and write about it. Have fun.

Of course, I could go on and on, but I need to get back to my work in progress. I hope you’ve learned a little something from my journey. If it helps you make sense out of the writer’s life just a little, than I will have done my job. Writing is not easy, and being successful often comes with a price. For instance, I’ve been married and divorced twice, the latter breakup due to my “placing my writing above everything else,” or so my ex-wife claims. What a damn shame. But there’s nothing in the world that I’d rather be doing than putting words on a blank page and experiencing the rush of a newly published book. There’s nothing like it in the world, and there's no shame in that. 

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