Why?

By Andrew E. Kaufman, author of psychological thrillers

Photo courtesy: Nikopoley

It's a loaded question, yes?

As a small Andrew, I was what one might call a Why Kid—you know the type, right? Every answer to every question was followed with a Why?  This would go on heedlessly (and perhaps annoyingly) for quite some time, until the person being questioned—usually an adult, often a teacher, and sometimes another kid—would get frustrated and yell, Shut the hell up!

Then I would be annoyed.

If we were tracking trends (also something I do rather obsessively), we might surmise this is why I ended up making a career out of answering the eternal question: Why?

And really, isn’t that what being a writer is all about?

When people ask how I come up with my ideas, how I create my characters, or how I plot my stories. Guess what I say?

Why?

Why, of course I do. In this case, however, it’s not actually a question (a relief, I’m sure), but more, it’s a truth, because every story I write begins this way.

In my first book, While the Savage Sleeps, it was: Why are two people, who have absolutely nothing in common and live in two different cities having seemingly similar creepy experiences that seemingly have nothing to do with each other?  Well, there were perhaps quite a few bodies dropping like flies everywhere and in rather hideous manners, but that was mainly the mood music.

In the Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted, it was: Why did Patrick find evidence of a murder among his hideously abusive, and incidentally, dead, mother’s belongings?

And in Darkness & Shadows, I asked: Why did the love of Patrick’s life die twice? Well, maybe that one’s more of a how, but you get the idea.

 

The point to all this? There are a few (What, did you expect the Why Child to only have one?)  

First, I think authors write books for the same reason that people like to read them. We’re insatiably curious (read: insatiably nosey). It’s not just enough to know that an eighty-six year-old grandmother was planting bodies in her tulip garden. We want to know why the hell she was doing it.

Second, whether we realize it or not, we’re all students of the human mind. We like to know how people’s brains work, or, for those of us who write our slightly off-color stories (read: bent), what makes them not work so much.

And last, never tell a writer to shut the hell up.  Don’t do it.

We get very annoyed.

Then we kill you off in our books.

Do You Really Need An Agent?

By Andrew E. Kaufman, author of psychological thrillers

Opinions seem to vary, and of course, I’ve got one, too.

Before signing a publishing deal with Thomas & Mercer and 47North, I didn’t have a literary agent. Not by choice—it was because virtually nobody wanted me. I’d submitted and submitted, but the boomerang boilerplates kept flying back at me.

Then I sold a lot of books, and suddenly the agents were flying at me.

At that point, I questioned whether representation was actually necessary. I mean, I was doing pretty well going solo, so my prevailing thought was, “Why now? Why would I give someone fifteen percent of my hard-earned money?”

I struggled long and hard over that before finally signing with Scott Miller, Executive Vice President at Trident Media Group. The reason? There were several.

As an independent author, there would have been no purpose in having an agent unless I was trying to handle foreign rights or other deals (more on that later!). That said, I was looking for an opportunity to take my career to the next level. At the time, I felt Amazon Publishing could help me in that respect, and having an agent seemed like a step I could not afford to skip, because I’d never been through any sort of “traditional” publishing process, and I reasoned that it would be smart to protect myself.

Looking back now, I absolutely believe I made the right decision, because Scott has been instrumental in assuring me a safe and profitable journey.

Here’s how:

Negotiating the deal

I’m not saying you can’t do this yourself, but a smart agent is skilled in the art of negotiation, and they understand subtleties in contract language that the average author just doesn’t. Besides having a good grasp on a fair asking price for advances and royalties, the agent also knows how to deal with publishers in getting what you deserve. Not having this sort of experience, I felt confident (and relieved) allowing Scott to do this work for me.

Advocating

His job was far from being over once I signed the deal—in fact, it had only just begun. An agent is your representative, your voice, but most important, your ally. It’s a journey you take together. When there are bumps along the way, he steps in and smoothes things over, making the ride a lot easier. Whenever I have a concern, I immediately go to my agent. He gives advice, and because he’s represented so many authors, that advice is based on solid experience. I listen to my trusted agent before making decisions, and then it’s often his job to carry them out. In other words, I get to sit back and relax. If I’ve got a concern about the way things are going, he steps in and speaks to the people involved. In other words, I let him do his job so that I can do mine. I am not alone in managing what is now my business, and that’s immeasurably comforting.

Profit

An agent gets a percentage of everything you earn. Some may see this as a downfall, but I see it as a win-win. Bottom line: the more money I make, the more he does, so we both have the same interests. And I don’t mind making him work for his money. I’m a slave driver. (Kidding! Kidding!)

Scams

Here’s a cautionary tale: While still an independent author, I was offered a publishing deal for the German rights to one of my books, which I hastily accepted. It’s been more than a year, and I still haven’t received a penny. While I’ve attempted to contact this rat bastard thief on numerous occasions, he’s refused to respond. In short, I got shafted by a man who continues to sell my work and make a 100-percent profit at it. Even worse, I have no recourse, because even if I wanted to sue him (which would give me delight beyond measure), I’d have to go to Austria in order to do it. I didn’t know that, but he probably did. I’m sure Austria is beautiful, but I’m not really interested in taking a combination vacation/sue-the-jerk trip at the moment.

The lesson? If I’d had an agent at the time, this never would have happened.

There is no rule that says you need to have representation. If you plan to remain indie, if you’re a skilled negotiator who has extensive experience working with publishers, and if you know a lot about foreign rights deals, then by all means, go for it. 

If not, consider otherwise. Fifteen percent isn’t a high price to pay to have someone constantly watching your back. 

Andrew E. Kaufman's new psychological thriller,

Darkness & Shadows, has been touted 

by New York Times Bestselling author
Jessica Park as,"A story about damage
and survival, about the past and the 
future, and about facing the truth.
behind the pain." 

Be Afraid

By Andrew E. Kaufman, author of psychological thrillers

Being a writer is like climbing the tallest peak in the world. We barely get to enjoy the victory, when someone straps us down, tears our shirts open, and tells the vultures to bring it on.

Let’s face it: to be an artist is to be vulnerable. And perhaps a little unstable. We pour our souls onto the pages. We sweat. We cry. We scream a lot. We drink ridiculous quantities of coffee, but never enough to combat our emotional and physical exhaustion.

Not to mention, the brutal criticism, and really, there is no way to combat that. We read it, we cringe,

and we may (possibly) throw some things (at least, I hear). After that, we pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off, taking what we can use, and throwing away the rest…that is, between the hysterical sobs, and guttural groans (also, of course, not a first hand experience).

Other sides of our artistry are a bit less brutal and far more enjoyable. If we do it right, we get to create worlds and characters from nothing other than our hungry imaginations, then watch them flourish into amazing stories. Also if we do it right, we relish in the knowledge that our readers are enjoying them, and more importantly, feeling them.

Of course, getting to that point is easier said than done.

In reaching that goal, my approach can be at times… a bit unconventional. Possibly insane. For me, writing a novel means feeling my way through the darkness and through my pages, essentially with no idea what the outcome will be. I don’t plan before I launch into my work. I write on instinct. As I do this, one persistent and nagging question pokes at me: Will this work?

The truth is, I never really know, and therein lies the insanity, because it’s usually not until the end stages that I realize I’ve actually got a cohesive story, and even more, one that people may actually enjoy. Even then, it’s not until my precious child leaves the mental womb-vacuum and takes in its first gasp of air that I start believing. And once again, living.

That’s where the joy begins. And the pain. And then more questions. When the book is “live,” I am overwhelmed because there is so much to take in. I watch my sales, watch my reviews. I question and re-question, examine and reexamine. I again assess whether my work is worthwhile, whether it did or did not, in fact, work. Even then, it’s all still a guessing game. There will never be finite answers to my many questions, and that’s part of this game.

Some might call my approach to novel writing somewhat random, somewhat reckless, and yes, somewhat unzipped, and I’d have a hard time disagreeing. But here’s the thing: I understand it, and even more, I know what drives it.

Fear.

Is fear a bad thing? Well, no. It’s what keeps me from touching a hot stove (at least, on purpose), from speeding down the freeway at 100 mph (give or take), and from making inappropriate comments (well, most of the time).

And fear is what keeps me from settling for Just Good Enough. It keeps me on my toes. Without fear, my work would be a shining example of Just Average. And that’s something I can’t tolerate.

So I strive for balance, because balance means allowing my fear to work for instead of against me. That’s the real challenge. Turning fear into a driving force that propels me to do my best, to be creative as I can, and to push myself outside the comfort zone. I am then mobilized instead of paralyzed.

Whether we like it or not , fear is necessary in art and in life. Perhaps Father Everett said it best in the movie Daredevel:

“A man without fear is a man without hope.”

And there you have it. When all is done, I know the truth—that I’m not afraid to be afraid.

Andrew E. Kaufman's new and bestselling novel, Darkness & Shadows, has been touted as "A story about damage and survival, about the past and the future, and about facing the truth behind the pain."

More Thoughts from a Random (and Sleeping) Mind

By Andrew E. Kaufman: Author of Psychological Thrillers

Ok, time for another confession.

I write in my sleep.

Well, not all the time, and not all of it amounts to much, but sometimes I do, and sometimes it does. For those who know me, this should really come as no surprise. It’s kind of how I roll. Random? Definitely. Stream of thought? Without question. Chaotic? God, yes.

Yep, I’m all of that, but since I’m also an intuitive writer, I rely a lot on my subconscious mind to tell my stories. Some call this their Muse, or their inspiration, or their alter ego or...whatever. I call him Bob (don’t even ask, because I have no explanation).

But the truth is, the subconscious mind really is our “better half”, so to speak. It’s the place where we don’t over think or judge, where no idea is too outlandish, and where anything goes. In short, the lizard brain throws it out there, then the logical mind reels it in. 

My first novel, While the Savage Sleeps, came to me as a dream, and while some might call that a nightmare, I woke up knowing I’d nailed it. The images, the mood, the tone--all of it-- seemed so clear that I hopped right out of bed the next morning and couldn’t wait to put my fingers to the keyboard. From that point on, the words seemed to pour seamlessly from my brain to the screen. In fact, more than any of my books, people most often comment that reading it was like watching a movie in their heads, and maybe that’s because the dream felt like one. Oddly enough, there was background music and rolling credits at the end (again, don’t ask).

Trust me when I say, it’s not the first time something like this has happened. From what I understand, apparently, I talk a lot in my sleep, and that makes sense, because I’ve had some rather lively discussions during dreams. For example, Patrick once read me the riot act inside a grocery store (he was very unhappy about the way I was portraying him), and I caught Tristan trying to hot wire my car (she’s a career criminal). 

Of course, I don’t always go with what my dreams tell me (I guess that’s where the logical mind comes in). Originally, Tristan lived in a treehouse, and that was just plain crazy. And there was that S&M dungeon in the Clark Compound basement (where my editor gently said, “um...no.”).

As is often the case, I don’t always remember my dreams, but I’m pretty sure my writing is a reflection of them, because some of the best ideas always seem to come in the morning, and maybe that's why.

The point of all this (besides that there’s some crazy-assed stuff going on inside my head)? Hell, I don’t know. That the subconscious mind is a terrible thing to waste? 

How about you? Do you dream in color?

Sexy on a Stick, or Broken and Flawed? How do you like them?

By Andrew E. Kaufman-Author of psychological thrillers

The tattooed, bad boy biker.

The sexy, iconic rock star.

The brooding detective with a tortured soul who always finds the killer.

Let’s face it, those characters are likeable and appealing, and they’ll always sell. It’s why we see them every day on TV, read about them in novels. If I’m going to be completely honest, I may or may not have even fantasized a time or two about being a few of them. Maybe even pondered the idea of changing my name to Chance, Shane, or Luke.

But those characters have never felt very real to me; in fact, other than their tough exteriors and chiseled jawlines, there’s not much else I remember about them.

When I sat down to create Patrick, the protagonist in my bestselling psychological thriller, The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted (and its newly released sequel, Darkness & Shadows), I was hoping to break the hero mold. I didn’t necessarily want perfect—I wanted perfectly flawed.  I wanted a hero who was not your everyday hero.

So how did I do it? I went against the thriller grain and broke some rules.

What I ended up with was a very un-Hollywood male lead who could still be appealing. After stripping down the tough exterior you often see with typical heroes, I allowed Patrick’s emotional vulnerability to not only be blatantly exposed, but to help tell the story and drive the plot. Yes, he’s a victim of a horribly tragic and abusive childhood, but he refuses to remain that way. He’s not out to save the world—he’s desperately trying to save himself.

To further his depth and complexity, Patrick suffers from OCD. He’s a journalist obsessed with making lists, consisting of the same words over and over, page after page. His OCD is a coping tool used to survive his unthinkable childhood. Instead of experiencing his pain associated with the abuse, he instead learned to list it. The problem? What saved him then, haunts him now.

But that wasn’t enough for me. More damage, more layers, more angst. More! I gave Patrick a disease where even the slightest cut can make him bleed to death. While this makes for some great and terrifying action scenes, it’s also a powerful metaphor that runs through these books: his childhood has left him emotionally scarred and afraid of being broken open. With his blood disease, he’s as susceptible on the outside as he is on the inside.

And last, but certainly not least—because he’s never had it—Patrick wants desperately to be loved. And he wants to give love. This is his journey in life, and much like everyone else, he has to find himself first.

Typical? Well, not so much, I guess, when you consider the gold standard for some fictional heroes--but I wasn't going for the standard. I was going for flawed. I was going for vulnerable. 

I suppose it was only after I’d completed the first book, that I became a bit worried about how Patrick might be seen by readers who were hoping for a more archetypal male lead, but I write from instinct, not logic. Was it a risk? Sure, but I'm a firm believer in taking them when instincts dictate, and it seemed to have worked. But even today, I still have difficulty breaking him down and capturing his appeal.

So for balance, I looked for a female point of view. My friend and fellow author, Jessica Park, had this to say:

“Look, I’ve read about the hot, perfect, studly leads. In your books, you give us a character, Patrick, with all his raw, emotional, tortured pain. And you also give us Patrick as a hopeful, determined, insightful, and beautiful person. Female readers fall in love with him because of his willingness to examine his own damage, to tear apart his years of hurt, and to battle against the past so he can find a better future for himself. It’s in his pain, and in his fight, that we see meaningful bravery and strength. That makes for powerful, intoxicating reading. And that also makes us want to scoop up that hottie and take him home with us.”

Authors and readers:  How do you like your heroes? Tough as nails? Sexy on a stick? Metrosexual? Self-actualized? Really, there is no right or wrong, and when I think about it, maybe we actually need them all.

Happy Thanksgiving,  everyone!

When All Else Fails...There is This.

By Andrew E. Kaufman

I have a new book coming out in just six days.

(Deep breath)

It’s been almost two years since I’ve been able to say that. After I signed a publishing deal, there were delays. I was okay with this, even anticipated it—but still, I’ve managed to accomplish what I do best.

Make myself crazy. 

It's a special skill. Do not attempt this for the first time alone. I've spent years honing my craft, and it's not for the weak. Should you choose to fall into global anxiety, please be sure to have a tolerant support system around you. And possibly some bungee cords, potting soil, and an assortment of down pillows. (Don't ask. You'll find out.)

Of course, there are the usual obsessive concerns: Will my readers still remember me after all this time? Will their enthusiasm over my work wither and die? Will I wither and die? Will the publishing business continue to gyrate, explode, then shoot me straight into oblivion? 

This is just a partial glimpse into the neurotic and continuously spiraling mind that keeps me awake late into the night and swimming the shifting tides of global uncertainty during the day. And other melodrama. 

In a way this spinning cycle of insanity is good, because on some level it keeps me on my toes and hungry—but in other ways, not really so much. Let's face it, folks: Anxiety isn't pretty. It's dominating and ferocious and greedy, but it ain't pretty. 

So, in an effort to self-medicate and to talk myself off the ledge and out of the pain vortex, logical thinking went out the window, and reckless overindulgence flew the in through the cuckoo’s nest.

I took a little jaunt over to this joint:

And inhaled me a little of this:

And thought inappropriate things about this:

 And I was powerless over this sexy little chocolate ganache number:

And I adopted 73 of these and took them home with me. They are all named Clive, and they are all wonderful and thriving in a loving environment.

That's all.