Random Observations after Compiling a Short Story Collection

One of my resolutions for the New Year was to gather a number of Anita Ray stories into a collection for publication in response to requests from readers. These stories about life in a South Indian resort are scattered among Level Best Books anthologies and issues of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. The first story appeared in 2003, and thirteen have followed over the years. The current collection gathers those only from LBB anthologies. I’m almost finished with the editing and arranging, and it’s been educational and enlightening.

First, the Anita Ray stories are uniform in length, all of them ranging from five to seven thousand words. I’m not sure why this is but it may have to do with the time I take to establish the setting and traditional cultural issues involved in the mystery. As a result, I plan to write a number of shorter stories, closer to two thousand words, to introduce greater variety.

Second, not every story includes a murder though every one includes a crime. This is something I’d like to do more with. One of my favorite Marian Babson mysteries is Line Up for Murder (1981; English title: Queue Here for Murder, 1980), which takes place on a London sidewalk outside a department store in the days leading up to the store’s famous New Year’s Day sale.  There is no murder, but there is the threat of one. The novel has stayed with me partly for the setting and partly for the skill with which Babson manages to create suspense without the usual corpse.

Third, the Anita Ray stories hover around two main themes—jealousy and greed. These are the same themes found in the Anita Ray novels, in particular For the Love of Parvati. I didn’t intend these themes in the short fiction but it became obvious when I lined up the stories. When I get an idea and start writing, I begin with a character and follow his or her behavior, not intending any specific motive for murder or a crime, but I evidently take a familiar path. The Oxford Companion to Crime and Mystery Writing (1999), for which I served as consulting editor, dedicates four and a half columns to “Motives,” with numerous references and discussion. The author considers greed the most common, but I’m now looking to the many others listed for future stories.

Fourth, I am an American woman writing about South Asia, and there are many who now say that no one outside a culture should try to write about it. This is nonsense. But I am sensitive to any charge that I am writing with less than respect for the India I love, so rereading the stories was an absolute requirement, to search out anything that smacks of the “otherness” that academics search for so avidly. (Oh, dear, my biases are showing.) Anyway, I think the stories hold up well, and if anyone thinks there is anything subtly disparaging in them, I certainly want to hear about it.

Fifth, one of the themes throughout the stories is the clash of old and new, traditional and modern. Another theme is the changing role of women in modern India, though the settings and individuals belong often to a traditional culture. But I am an equal-opportunity writer of villains and victims—both groups include representatives of all cultures found in South India. The visiting Western tourist is just as venal and vicious as the middle-class Indian.

As it stands now the Anita Ray collection includes eleven stories, three of them new for this publication. The ms now heads out to beta readers before getting a final read-through and a cover. Until then, try these books featuring Anita and her Auntie Meena.

http://www.amazon.com/Under-Kali-Anita-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B00BGH9CCS

http://www.amazon.com/Wrath-Shiva-Anita-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B00GBFISY8/

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Parvati-Five-Star-Mystery/dp/1432828568

The Writer's Life . . . Now and Then

A recent discussion on the Five Star chat list and on Maine Crime Writers (http://mainecrimewriters.com) tapped into a general frustration with how hard it is to make a living as a writer these days. We have all had these moments of doubt and frustration, and I agree with everything that's been said, and I thank both Brenda Hill and Kate Flora for taking on the task of opening the discussions to others. These discussions are part of an important conversation about our expectations and roles as writers. It took me a few years before I realized that my expectations were based on the realities of the 1950s.

The path for an aspiring writer up to the 1950s and 1960s was clearly marked. Get an education, possibly an MFA in creative writing though not required, write short fiction and submit it to literary journals, publish a few stories, and work on a novel. In the summer, attend a few writers' workshops, such as the Bread Loaf Writers Conference (the original one), and meet a few editors and agents. The point was to keep writing until someone liked what you did or you gave up and got a full-time job. No one admits to giving up but there are far more first novels published than second novels.

Since all the mainstream magazines carried short stories every month in those years, a beginning or established writer could make a living selling stories while finishing a novel. Redbook, for example, paid $5,000 for a short story, and often published two a month into the 1980s. In the mid 1960s $5,000 was the starting salary for a social worker and a number of other positions. Well, those days are gone.

If you were lucky enough to sell your novel, you received an advance against royalties. You set about writing your second book while your publisher announced your first book to booksellers, conducted modest promotion, and forwarded reviews by mail. If your book was doing well, you might get a telephone call from your editor. If your sales were reasonable, which you knew from quarterly royalty reports, you had a chance to sell your second novel, assuming you could find something to write about. And yes, those days are gone.

Even in 1993, when I published my first mystery with Scribner, the drill for the beginning writer was the same--get a newspaper and radio interview, set up a few signings wherever you could, and send out a lot of flyers, newsletters, or postcards, anything to introduce your book to readers. In 1993 I sent a postcard to every library in Massachusetts, with a handwritten note on each. I sent another thousand postcards to a select group of libraries throughout the country. Those days are gone too.

Today, writers are expected to have begun promotional efforts even before the book appears. And this

is possible today only because of the Internet and the mind-numbing array of sites where writers and readers can discover each other and books. It is tempting to think that online activity is the way to sell books because that means I can sit at my desk and wear my gardening or painting clothes (which should not be seen in public) and never think about putting on stockings or high heels or do anything else that makes me miserable. But that isn't the case.

The real complaint isn't about how little we make or how much marketing we have to do as writers today but about how little original creative work is valued. Our expectations are based on another time when it seemed such work was appreciated and its producers admired. But our expectations as writers are based on life thirty or forty or more years ago, and the expectations of readers are based on life today. And life today is different. We have reduced the world to the cheapest, the fastest, the easiest. That might be all right for hamburgers but it's not all right for books.

Every one of us knows that it takes time to think through an idea, to understand human behavior and appreciate the myriad ways a single event can be interpreted. We took history in college to help with this sort of problem. But we live in a world when no one wants to take the time to explore facets of an experience, world-changing ideas must be reduced to sound bites or be ignored, and our politicians are an embarrassment to anyone with any self-respect.

When I pull back from my frustration with the low pay, the shrinking advances, the neglect of readers to try a different kind of story, I have only my own reasons for writing left to consider. I did not give up writing when I had a chance to spend all of my waking hours on a better paid job, and I did not take up writing the kinds of books that would ensure a devoted if non-thinking audience. If these things are true, then I am writing for reasons other than money and prestige.

I could end here with a sly comment--"And when I find out what those reasons are I'll let you know"--but I have come this far and will see the idea to the end.

I write because it is something in me that demands to be done. I write because I see characters and hear their voices and I want to tell their stories, to myself as well as others. Some stories feel like a physical mass inside me pushing to get out. I write because I get an idea about a character or incident and I think it's something other people should know about. I write fiction because I think it is one of the best ways to draw people into a larger world where they can learn and grow without the pain that would come from the same experiences in real life. We read to get outside of ourselves and be part of something bigger than ourselves. I write to be part of that.

Beta Readers

I recently gave a short story to a friend to critique, and because it involved an activity her husband enjoys, sailing, she gave it to him to read also. Both came back with useful and pertinent suggestions, and I felt fortunate to have their reviews. As I finish an Anita Ray story, I'm getting ready to send it to someone who has also lived in India and will warn me when I conflate the ways Indian and Americans think.

These particular readers are among the three or four I rely on to comment on my work, and I have always felt comfortable with that group because their critiques are spot on and precise. But when I look at the acknowledgments in some of the books I've been reading lately, I notice the author often includes a long list of names of people who have read and commented on or helped with the book. The list includes friends and relatives as well as editors and a large number of beta readers. Sometimes the number of people in the last category can reach forty or more.

At a writers' conference I listened to another mystery writer describe her process. She sent out her ms to four writers, read their comments and edited her ms accordingly, and then retyped from word one the entire ms. Then she sent it out again. She did this until she had sixteen reviews, retyping the book each time. (Yes, that's a lot of typing, and a topic for another time.)

When I was writing my first mystery and learning about structure and character and plot and clues and all the rest of it, I read chapters of the book that would become Murder in Mellingham to my writers' group and sent opening chapters to friends in the publishing world. I learned from all the comments, but the total number of beta readers did not number more than ten.

How many beta readers do you need? I don't know the answer but I am wondering. A quick Google search for "Beta readers" brings up 55,400 entries, including a call for beta readers, a listing for a group on Goodreads, advice on how to apply to be one, things to do and not do, what to expect if you become one, and more. It there has been an explosion of writers in the marketplace, there has also been an explosion of beta readers and posts about them.

But there is one big difference between today, 2015, and the 1980s, when I began writing my first mystery novel. When I began I knew all my readers, and asked them for their views because I knew, first, that they liked to read and, second, they read carefully and often made astute comments about a story line or character. I wanted the benefit of their expertise. I didn't know about anyone who served as a beta reader for a writer they didn't know personally, and I didn't know any writers who sent their mss to readers they didn't know personally.

Today, in many case, beta readers are strangers to the writer seeking feedback. We have no idea if the people who post reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other site can read well or easily, like reading, or even care about books.

I don't know how many beta readers are considered enough, but I know that a good one is worth every effort it takes to find him or her. I consider myself fortunate to have several who have supported and guided me over the years.

But as I watch the writing and publishing world evolve, I wonder how the institution of the beta reader will also develop. How many will be considered enough? Will a group spring up to set standards for becoming a beta reader? Will we formalize the process? Will writers be expected to find strangers to serve as readers? I don't have any answers but I'm curious to hear what others think.

When the weather outside is . . .

As a writer I think a lot about setting. This includes more than location. It includes weather and anything else that can affect how the sleuth and other characters go about their day. The sleuth is investigating and the suspects are eluding. A writer might use rain to compound the sleuth's misery, or a heat wave to complicate the collection and care of evidence. But the blizzards we have endured in the Northeast this past week has reminded me that there are some weather events that I have avoided as a writer.

A blizzard is used to good effect in Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. In a less well known mystery, P.M. Hubbard turns a river in the countryside into a formidable character, in The Quiet River. In both stories the weather has to be acknowledged and dealt with. 

In For the Love of Parvati, the third Anita Ray mystery, Anita and her Auntie Meena are isolated in a rural estate during the monsoon. Anita is greatly relieved when the rain stops and she can get out for a walk.

The problem with real wintry weather, as opposed to a heat wave or monsoon, is that it brings the usual daily life to a halt. At midnight in our area neighbors are out shoveling or snow-blowing, the light from street lamps amplified by the white snowfall. In the morning, neighbors fill side streets shoveling and cleaning up, stopping to chat with folks they rarely have time to visit with.

Throughout this time, we have no sidewalks, no parking, and struggling public transportation. Fortunately, we didn't lose power in our area. This is the perfect setting for a country house murder, but nearly impossible for the kind of investigation that requires the sleuth to be out and about, visiting offices to gather information, contriving to run into people in a bar or at a party, or following a suspect to work or lunch. In extreme weather, surveillance can be impossible, and most sleuths take the day off, along with their creators.

As I look out the window at the snowdrifts rising to the windowsill I turn my thoughts to the Anita Ray mystery I'm composing. I've written eight thousands words this week, an average amount, and have said little about the weather. But that will change. It's time to feel the heat.

Defining Features of a Series

A successful mystery series is a package of several features: recurring characters, vivid setting, titles,

and types of stories. We followed Miss Jane Marple through a number of villages and stately homes while she chatted with the vicar, a spinster, a young married couple, a colonel back from the colonies, and more of the same. Christie’s titles for all her books varied but she did have a series of nursery rhyme titles, most of which featured Poirot.

Peter Lovesey introduced Sergeant Cribb in a series of historical mysteries that introduced the reader to fads and facts of the late nineteenth century, such as indoor pedestrian races, bare-knuckle fighting, and music halls. The world of the contemporary sleuth Superintendent Peter Diamond is different. Lovesey sets the series in and around Bath, and draws in references to Jane Austen and other literary figures, in contrast to his detective Diamond, who alienates just about everybody, drinks too much, and dislikes the way technology is taking over old-fashioned police work.

These are the kinds of mysteries I read avidly and the ones that come to mind when I wanted to start a new series, after the Mellingham series set in New England. I already had some of this material published in short stories and thought a lot about setting, titles, and plots.

I had a recurring character, Anita Ray, an Indian American photographer living in India at her aunt’s hotel, who had already appeared in a number of short stories published in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and Level Best Books anthologies. The setting would remain South India, along the coast, and the tone would be mostly light with examination of some serious issues along the way.

The setting, in and around Auntie Meena’s hotel, meant some of the recurring characters would be hotel workers with problems of their own, conveniently, and other workers at the resort. But setting also becomes a character in that it becomes a place the readers know well. To help with this part of the series I have two maps, one of the hotel and the rooms on each floor and a second one of the resort area, with lanes and other hotels indicated briefly.

One way to reinforce the boundaries of the series is through titles. The Sherlock Holmes short stories often begin with “The Adventure of . . . ” and the Inspector Ghote mysteries by H.R.F. Keating often have the detective’s name in the title, such as Inspector Ghote Hunts the Peacock.

For the Anita Ray series I decided to use a phrase with a Hindu name, either of a deity or figure from mythology, in every title.  The first in the series is Under the Eye of Kali, followed by The Wrath of Shiva and For the Love of Parvati. Each title indicates setting and something of the nature of the story. My work in progress is titled When Krishna Calls.

The setting of a hotel and Anita’s photography gallery ensure that a wide variety of people will walk into the series—foreigners and Indians alike. And Anita’s membership in an Indian family means she has a large number of relatives spread throughout the state and the country, if necessary, for the story line.