The Elements of Mystery Fiction: Writing the Modern Whodunit (20 page)

Beginning/End.
In this scenario, one partner writes the first half of the book and the second writer takes it to the finish line. That’s how Warren Murphy and Richard B. Sapir collaborated on more than forty action-adventure novels, including the legendary Destroyer series. Warren tells it this way: “We’d think up some vague story, and Dick would write the first half of the book and send it to me. No outline, no suggestions, just wonderful characters doing strange things. I wrote the second half of the book, and then, without his knowledge, I rewrote the whole book so it was seamless. Dick never called me on it.”

Writing/Rewriting.
One partner takes the lead on the first draft, the other revises—this is how Pam and Mary O’Shaughnessy work. They trade the lead, book to book. In the end, Mary says, “It’s hard to say who wrote what because we totally rewrite each other’s draft. We’re both extremely critical of our own work and each other’s.”

Plotting/Writing.
Or, as Paul Kemprecos describes his partnership with Clive Cussler, “He’s the storyteller and I’m the writer.” The two were mere acquaintances when Cussler invited Kemprecos to collaborate with him on the NUMA Files series.

Togetherness.
Some teams do what the rest of us deem impossible: they do it together. Husband and wife team John and Cathie Celestri (Cathie John), authors of two mystery series, actually write each sentence together, though John spends more time at the front end, structuring and outlining the novel, and Cathie does more editing at the back end. Another husband-and-wife team is Mary Reed and Eric Mayer, who write the John the Eunuch mysteries: “It’s less like two people each writing half a book and more like the same book being written twice by two people. We tend to allocate scenes according to what we feel are our individual strengths. E’s the dab hand at descriptions, for example, while M may write more of the dialogue.”

Making it work

Collaborating isn’t easy, and more partnerships founder than succeed. “For her it was a hobby that she did in her spare time; for me it was a passion,” says a writer whose attempt at a collaboration ended in disaster. “To save myself from getting aggravated because he wasn’t working, I wouldn’t work,” says another author who ended up marooned with a half-finished manuscript.

No matter how the partnership divides the work, there are some constants in those that succeed:

Mutual respect
. Each writer has to bring something to the table that the other one values. The ideal writing partner has strengths that fill in the gaps created by the weaknesses in the other’s work and vice versa.

Commitment.
Writing a novel and getting it published takes a long time. Working with a partner who’s in it for the long haul is essential.

Discipline.
Collaborate with someone who’s going to make the meeting, make the deadline, and do the edit she said she was going to do.

Leave your ego at the door.
If you’re going to get emotionally attached to your own commas and semicolons, not to mention your words and ideas, then forget about collaborating. It’s hard enough to write a good book without your partner having to worry about your hurt feelings.

Keep your sense of humor.
Get yourself a writing partner who laughs at your jokes. Humor will get you through the many rough patches.

Hard or easy sell?

Are collaborations any harder or easier to sell? Literary agent Gail Hochman, who represents crime fiction luminaries such as Scott Turow (and G. H. Ephron), says, “If it’s a mystery, no one cares how many people wrote it, but rather if it reads well.”

She says a collaboration doesn’t deter her from considering a work. It’s the promise of longevity that counts.

“
As an agent, I want to take on writers who will have a long career—collaborators who can repeat the same kind of success, time after time. A one-shot collaboration is less attractive.”

Written agreements

Like most writing teams, Don and I plunged in without a written agreement. Then, to our amazement, we finished our first Dr. Peter Zak mystery. After seemingly endless rejections and revisions, we found ourselves with an agent and a publisher. It was our agent who insisted that we sign a written agreement. It specified that we shared equally the copyright, all proceeds, and expenses. It covered all sorts of contingencies (what if one of us dies? what if the work doesn’t get accepted by the publisher? and so on) and included an arbitration clause. Our agent was protecting us, but she was also protecting her literary agency, which was entering into a two-book contract with a publisher on our behalf.

Partnerships (like plots) evolve, so most teams would be hard pressed to come up with a useful agreement that spells out the
how
of working together. On the other hand, writers who’ve been burned repeat the mantra, “Get it in writing.” Never underestimate, they say, the power of money and vanity to undermine a good partnership. The experts agree. Put it in writing, up front, while you’re still getting along with each other, and avoid headaches down the road when you’re not.

In a standard agreement, two co-authors share the copyright, and each owns one half of the entire work and the proceeds from it. If one person is doing the lion’s share of the work, an agreement should be drawn up that spells that out. The Authors Guild advises a flat percentage rather than more complex arrangements.

If one partner’s contribution is treated as a “work for hire,” then that author receives a flat fee but no royalties or proceeds from the sale of residual rights (paperback, translation, film, etc.). A short written release typically is needed to ensure that the one who commissioned the “work-for-hire” owns and controls the copyright.

The Authors Guild provides collaboration guidelines for writers, as do other professional writers’ organizations. Two widely recommended books are
The Writer’s Legal Companion
by Brad Bunnin and Peter Beren and
Business and Legal Forms for Authors and Self-Publishers
by Tad Crawford. Both contain model contracts.

Don’t wait until the book is finished to decide on your by-line. Many co-authors opt for a shared pseudonym. For us it was a marketing decision. Editors and agents advised us that a single name was easier to remember, and after all, wasn’t our goal for G. H. Ephron to become a household name?

If both names go in the by-line, then whose name comes first? And will it be “by Sherlock Holmes
and
John Watson, M.D.,” or “by Sherlock Holmes
with
John Watson, M.D.,” or “by Sherlock Holmes
as told to
John Watson, M.D.”?

Ups and downs

Successful collaborating depends on working with the right person. For us, the synergy comes from bouncing ideas back and forth, from taking turns as cheerleader when the other one poops out.

There have been unexpected bonuses: Sharing the promotional gigs and expenses; taking advantage of
two
networks of friends, professional colleagues, and connections; and the emotional ballast of someone else in the boat with you.

The major downside, of course, is having to split the money. Neither of us has quit our day jobs.

Recently I told Don that sometimes it feels as if I’m collaborating with our character. He laughed and remembered the first batch of pages I emailed him. “I was so surprised. It was like a weird, out-of-body experience, reading about my better half—me, but not me. That’s probably the most dystonic piece of all this.”

Dystonic? That’s the kind of word Don uses all the time. (Dystonic means that something feels odd, not integrated.) And it’s just the kind of word our character uses, and then has to explain when the other characters roll their eyes.

“
Sometimes it feels as if we share a brain,” Don says. “You have the right side, I have the left. Aside from experience, I bring to the table the organization, plotting, and an understanding of people. That’s all left-sided. You integrate it all and make these leaps. That’s much more right-sided. And the language—language is a left-sided function, but you’re using it in a right-sided way.”

Using the left side of my brain in a right-sided way? I don’t understand this exactly, but it sounds very cool. And besides, I’ve learned to trust him on just this kind of thing.

Chapter 15

Doing Business with Agents

an interview with Fred Morris

Q:
I’ve finished my first mystery novel. Why should I try to get an agent rather than submitting it directly to publishers myself?

A: Now that you’ve finished writing, you need to shift gears and start thinking about getting your novel published. After the isolation and focus required to get to this point, it can be a difficult mental switch to make, and it can wreak havoc on your self esteem. It’s important to keep perspective. Finding a publisher is a process. Unless you are incredibly lucky, you are going to get a number of rejections before you find, if you manage to find, your publisher.

Unless your only goal is to find a small press willing to put out a minimal number of copies, finding an agent, a formidable task in and of itself, is the first step to approaching mainstream publishers. An agent can help you negotiate a deal that will protect you and pay you much more in the long run should your book, and eventually your career, take off.

Many small presses are happy to consider manuscripts by un-agented authors. In some cases the absence of an agent makes their job easier. Small presses are only able to pay small advances, at best. They need to capitalize on their investment by acquiring and exploiting a wider range of rights associated with a book (such as foreign/translation, audio book, and movie rights), which an agent will fight to retain for you. Smaller houses may also pay lower royalties and try to tie up the rights longer than an agent would allow.

Should you find yourself negotiating with a small press without an agent, there are any number of books available to help you figure out what terms to ask for. The Authors Guild offers contract guidelines online. The National Writers Union also provides contract advice to its members.

Aside from some small independent houses, most publishers prefer to receive submissions from agents with whom they already have relationships. Editors are deluged with material to read, and, as is true of nearly everyone in publishing,
no one
has enough time to deal with everything that lands on his desk.

It’s a sad fact that thousands of mysteries are written every year which will never make it to the shelves of your local bookstore. In many cases, agents make the first cut.

If you think your book could draw the interest of readers other than your immediate family and friends, and if you want to find a mainstream publisher willing to invest in you and your book, looking for an agent is the best way to start.

Agents will give you their unbiased opinion on the value of your manuscript, but it is only
their
opinion. Any number of factors can come into play in their response to your manuscript. Give it time. Look for agents who work with similar projects.

The harsh reality is that publishing is, without question, a business. Agents make their living by taking a commission on all the money that comes in from the deals they make. Whatever their personal response to your manuscript might be, their actions, and whether or not they are willing to make an investment of time and energy in working with you, will be ruled by their professional assessment. It’s an agent’s business to be tuned into what kind of books publishers are currently looking for and to have the insight to know what kinds of books will draw a readership even before a publisher has picked up on it.

An agent is the person who’s in your corner, even after ten publishers have turned you down.

Q:
How can I figure out which agent to submit my novel to?

A: There are lots of ways to start the process of finding an agent. Ideally your introduction will distinguish you from a host of other writers. Take comfort in the fact that a well-written query letter with a professional appearance always stands out. Still, the more immediate the connection, the better. If you know a writer who has an agent (and who’s happy with that agent), that’s a good place to start. Writers workshops and conferences sometimes invite agents to give consultations, and they also give you an opportunity to network with other writers who might be able to make an introduction. If you can get a few one-on-one meetings with agents at a workshop, it’s a perfect opportunity not just to pitch your book, but also to refine your approach. Whether they express interest in looking at your manuscript or not, don’t hesitate to ask them what you could do to present your book better. Perhaps they can help you fine-tune your query letter, or even suggest other agents you might approach.

Other resources with listings of agents and notes on their specialties can be found online and in how-to-get-published books. One place to start is by reading the acknowledgments in mystery novels similar to your own. Often authors will thank their agent. Once you have a name, an online search should yield contact and information on the agent’s submission guidelines and preferences.

Q:
Once I’ve identified a likely agent, what should I send? The whole book? A chapter?