Post Thanksgiving Musings:Writing that Book Proposal

My mother, who we called "Mum," was the original "hot ticket." She had many funny expressions, some lost to memory now, that nailed a feeling or state of being.

And I'd characterize my life right now just as she would: I've been busier than a one-armed paper hanger. First, there is my non-fiction travel guide about New England craft beer. I have one month, well, let me calculate for sure, 34 days to hand it in to the editor. I want to break down laughing, or break down crying .... saying intentions like "I WILL hand it in on time," hoping I have 62 fairy godmothers who drink beer listening in the ether, who have nothing to do but help me.

So I had to make a decision about interrupting the flow of work on that project in order to write a book proposal for an agent whom I'd approached after the Crime Bake conference. He liked the ideas I had for two cozy mystery series, but I'd need to write proposals for each series idea. And that required time away from my work in progress. I hemmed and hawed to myself, but told the agent that of course I'd work on the proposals ASAP.

Then I committed to do it. It took three days of constant researching and asking for help coming up with "comparable" books, book series similar to yours that had been renewed (showing good sales), conjuring up three books in the series, writing a synopsis of each without actually having the books written, writing a bio of my work and experience, presenting evidence of my potential market and editing the first 30 pages of the manuscript to make it enticing to an editor.

I finished it last Tuesday and looked Heaven-ward before I pressed "send." Then I plunged into Thanksgiving preparations. My son was the only one of my three kids to be able to make it home, and we had a great two days. No work on the beer book was done, except making a pumpkin pie with a local stout. That recipe can go in the book, so I guess it was research. And the pie was delicious.

Today is Saturday. We've managed to not participate in any Black Friday insanity, we got our Christmas tree up and some lights on it without killing each other (close, though) and today I get back to work on the beer project.

I will do some deep breathing when I open the master doc, see how many breweries I still have to write up, and keep going. "Bird by bird," writer-goddess Anne Lamott says, bird by bird.

Special thanks go to Wicked Cozy Authors Sherry Harris and Barb Ross and to bookseller Beth Kanell of Vermont's Kingdom Books. Your help with finding comparable series was what encouraged me to finish the proposal and not flop in a heap of tears.

Puns about beer and murder

Last Saturday at this very moment, 5:10 p.m., I was standing in line at Crime Bake waiting for my turn speed-pitching an agent. It was pretty exciting, standing with five or so other writers, all of us wondering if the agent we'd gotten assigned would bite at our book ideas. Mine didn't, as I wrote last week. Fine. Chalk it up to learning experience.

Next morning at breakfast, we decided to gather all the Maine folks around the same table. One writer I had just met gave me her agent's name and some valuable info about the type of cozy mystery she writes. Some publishers will give you a book deal without a finished manuscript.

I was going back and forth wondering if I should take time away from my non-fiction beer book, and decided to go for it. I printed out the submissions guidelines from this agent's website, ticked them off as I wrote them, and said to my husband, "Wish me luck, I'm about to press "send."" And I did it.

Now I am scrambling to think up some pithy, pun-filled book titles and book jacket copy for the mysteries I want to write. One series will feature the subject I'm pretty well-versed in: beer. The other subject is a recent passion of mine.

Wish me luck!

Brewing up mysteries at Crime Bake 2014

Brewing up mysteries at Crime Bake 2014



Fun conference and I'm hooked.

Hang out with other writers: my first Crimebake conference and new mantra

I have been so isolated where I live, I keep in touch with friends via Facebook or email (mostly Facebook) and see other writers hardly ever. If you don't live in Maine or some other rural place, you might think it's me. I live in Waterville, Maine, home of my alma mater Colby College, a second college, two hospitals and 18,000 people. Doesn't seem like an isolated place.

But in the six years I've lived here, with my retired Colby prof husband, I have made exactly zero friends and met zero other writers. And I happen to know there are more than a few afoot.

So when I got my very first chance to sign up for Sisters in Crime New England Chapter annual conference, I pinched pennies and made arrangements. Tomorrow, after waiting for months, I go to Dedham, Massachusetts for a three day crime extravaganza. We'll even get to inspect a "crime scene," set up by forensics experts for our inexpert perusal.

Wheeeeee! Can't contain my glee. There is a feeling I get when I'm around other writers. Some could view the others in attendance as potential or actual competition. I am so excited and stimulated by the talk, how interested people are in meeting each other, and listening to the published mystery writers, I float for days after.

Sisters in Crime was founded to create awareness that women mystery writers weren't being paid as well as their male counterparts. And it's an amazingly organized group. And not only that, they are welcoming as hell.

I've  met several other writers via their website and Yahoo group and look forward to meeting them this weekend.

The special guest is Craig Robinson, creator of the Longmire books on which a TV series has been based. There will be a BBQ banquet and line dancing (okay I'm skipping the dancing), and lots of talk about mysteries and series and characters and technique and all the trappings of what makes the crime writing world go round.

Oh, and I'm getting 5 minutes to pitch my novel in progress to an agent. Hope I've got it right:

"When Griffin Kane finds a body in her new batch of beer, Portland, Maine police rule it an accident. Eamon Collins fell into the mash tun and drowned. The trouble is, it isn't Eamon. And the other trouble is Eamon is gone. Who is the body in the beer vat? And why did Eamon fake his death? Welcome to the Vatican Brewpub, the former St. Dominic's church, and the seamier side of the craft beer world."

Still working on it! If you have suggestions, let me know.

Beer here…and there. Finding new suds is part of the fun

Beer here…and there. Finding new suds is part of the fun