Falling in love, one book at a time

by A.M. Khalifa, thriller writer, Google+

Recently, Peg Brantley wrote a great piece on the various criteria that force her to abandon a book. For avid readers, book-dumping is sacrilegious. But as competition heats up in the book market, ditching a lousy one to make way for more inspired reading is something we’re all getting used to.

Peg’s post and the lively debate that ensued touched upon key things that every author should pay attention to, such as failure to capture a reader's interest immediately, unlikable characters, factual errors, and implausible plots.

Each one of us has a clear notion of what makes an unreadable book, and the infractions an author can commit to leave us no option but to eject them without a parachute. But what about the books we fall in love with? I don’t mean books we really like, but the sort of works that take over your life while you are reading them and then render you forever beholden to the author’s spell.

Love is the operative term here. When I am reading an amazing book, it feels like a passionate romance, rather than a one-night stand. And it has to be love at first sight—I've never fallen madly in love with a book that failed to excite me from the opening line. When I'm smitten in a relationship with a great book, I can’t wait to finish whatever it is I am doing to get back to it. It’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up, and the last thing I think of before going to bed. In some cases I may even dream about it.

The perfect book is like a highly addictive drug. You don't have to nudge yourself to read it. In my case, while I can't wait to find out what happens next, I start getting withdrawal symptoms when I know I've read more than what I have left. Like all powerful addictions, a great book leaves you longing for more. So you scour the universe for everything else this writer has penned, and every piece of news, gossip or social media murmurs about what they could possibly be working on next. You'll even snoop around for fan fiction if you are quite desperate. And of course you start evangelizing on behalf of the book and its writer, like it was your new religion.

Outstanding books rob you of your sense of time and reality, like a mystical or transcendental experience. They displace you from your physical reality and immerse you in the dimensions expertly crafted by the author. At the very least, you will connect with the characters and wish you were with them in the same room, or that you could speak to them, befriend them, even fall in love with them. And in some cases, your connection with a character is so profound, you almost start morphing into them. The Life of Pi by Yann Martel and IQ84 by Haruki Murakami are two such stories that had this effect on me.

Invariably, a truly sublime book is one that expands your horizons and introduces you to worlds, concepts and emotions you weren't familiar with before you picked it up, but with which you become obsessed. And I don’t necessarily mean that all great books have to be educational. But I think they have to show you things you wouldn't have otherwise been able to see on your own.

When you’ve finished reading a book that fundamentally absorbs you, your own life and reality will seem a little insipid by comparison. And you will feel nostalgic for the daily company of its leading characters. Like best friends or family members that have left you behind.

As a writer, I too aspire for my readers to fall in love instantaneously with my writing. To be addicted to, be transposed and surprised by my stories. I want to be able to write the sort of book that would keep a reader logged in my universe long after they've put it down. Maybe even one that could change a few lives in the process. It's a tall order, but it gives me something to strive for.

Fellow writers, is your writing informed and influenced by how your favorite books impacted you? And readers, what's your definition of a great book?

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A.M. Khalifa's critically acclaimed debut novel, Terminal Rage, was recently described by Publishers Weekly as "dizzying, intricate, and entertaining." 

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Boxing Scene=Sex Scene

by Tom Schreck

I like what Stephen King has to say about symbolism, foreshadowing and that kind of stuff. In On Writing he says that you shouldn’t go for it in  story telling but if it evolves and you pick it up as you edit it can be a real bonus.
Planting symbolism usually comes out as forced and when it becomes obvious the power of it is sapped.
In my GETTING DUNN I wrote a scene in which a male (Duffy) and female (TJ) box. As I wrote the sparring scene I realized it began to read like something else.
Let me know what you think.
“Let’s start slow, kind of feel each other out,” he said. TJ nodded. Duffy threw a jab toward her face at about half speed and she blocked it. She countered, parrying off his punch and the speed surprised him. He blocked part of it but a part of her glove got a little bit of cheek.
“Whew, you got some speed,” he said.
He threw a double jab, this time taking the speed and power up a notch. His intensity increase told her he respected her skills and the uptick in power was his way of letting her know he respected whom he was in with.
She stepped inside his next jab and through a three-punch uppercut to his body. His abs were firm and she knew the punches didn’t take anything out of him. Still, getting inside him and scoring was a victory in and of itself.  He spun to his left and tapped her with two jabs. He shot them to her face and she could tell he opened his hand to lessen the impact. She deflected most of the jabs, taking just a little leather on her cheek.
“Nice movement,” TJ said.

Working the corner

She moved toward him, hitched her left shoulder to feint a jab and drove a straight right down the middle of his guard. He went for the feint and it fooled him. The right landed harder than TJ expected. She felt his nose against her knuckles through the padding of the glove.
“Oooh sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“Nice shot, you caught me.” Duffy said offering his glove to tap, the universal, nonverbal boxing language of affirmation. Immediately, TJ felt embarrassed and silly for apologizing. The last thing she wanted was to come out sounding girly.
“I need to work on the ropes. Can you pressure me a bit?” I wasn’t unusual for a fighter to work on strategy during sparring. Working on the ropes required advanced skills.
“Just throw at me,” he said.
TJ let go with combinations focusing on speed. She’d go jab right, jab, jab, right and finish off with a hook. Then she alternated going upstairs and to the body. Her rat-at-tat-tats to the body came lightening quick and when she ended it with a left to the head it caught him flush on the jaw line.
She heard him grunt and it let her know that her hook had something on it. He tightened his guard and lowered his crouch. TJ was breathing hard, really hard, from the work but she was loving every second of it. She mustered all she could and let go with another combination.
Duffy took three punches on his gloves. Her next right came down the middle but he was ready for her. He stepped into the punch, hooked his upper arm around it and trapped it. Then, he turned TJ so that she was the one against the ropes.
The move caught her by surprise and it almost took her breath away. Her face was planted on his chest and she needed to breath deeply to get her wind. Her arms, needing to balance the rest of her, wrapped around his waist, forcing her even closer to him. Duffy leaned his weight into her and her back went in to the ropes. The ropes stretched and bent with the force of the two bodies.
It was some advanced movement and it was clear this guy knew what he was doing. TJ felt his weight, his hard upper body pressed against hers and she knew he had her tied up. It was both an offensive and defensive move at the same time.
She was breathing hard and took the clinch to rest as fighters often do. She let Duffy support her as she leaned back into him. He was warm, almost hot, from the work and so was she. Her breathing didn’t come back as fast as she wanted it to and she realized she was not only winded but wet from the exertion.
After what seemed like a long moment she worked out of the clinch and they danced to the center of the ring. She threw a double jab without much steam and he caught both of them. The buzzer sounded and TJ was grateful for the rest.
Both of them were winded from the exertion.
“Hey, you really got something,” Duffy said.
“So do you,” TJ said with a heavy exhale.
They went at it again for two more rounds and had found that rhythm that fighters who work together for a long time find. They could challenge each other, they could make the other work and they could also slow things down to a comfortable pace and just move for the good of the movement.
TJ hadn’t had anything like this in a long time.

How to Write a Sex Scene

By Andrew E. Kaufman

A while back, I did a post about sex scenes: I said they had no place in thrillers. I also said I’d never put one in my novels.

Then fate gave me a double-barreled shot of whoop-ass, when I realized I needed to have—you guessed it—a sex scene in my upcoming novel. There was absolutely no way around it. Darkness and Shadows is a psychosexual thriller, and you can’t have seduction without sex. It’s kind of like a cone without the ice cream. Won’t work. 

The whole point of the scene is that the protagonist’s love interest becomes emotionally vulnerable after their encounter and reveals something about herself she normally would not. This sets up the premise for the entire plot.

After realizing there was no way to avoid this, my next step was to write the scene without losing my reader (and my credibility). When I finished the chapter, however, I was surprised to find it actually worked. Here’s where my learning curve took me. I'm fully aware this is going to sound like an instruction manual, but I'm keeping it as clinical as I can, folks. 

  

If you’re going to add sex, it should be crucial to the plot

There has to be a specific purpose for a sex scene. Why? Because anything less will come off as gratuitous, if not pointless. Much like violence—or any other element, for that matter—if an action doesn’t drive the plot forward, it’s excess weight on the reader's mind. I know my sex scene was necessary because I ran hundreds of other scenarios through my mind (I was earnestly looking for a way out), but none came close to being as effective. So perhaps a good question to ask yourself when considering whether to add sex to your novel would be: is there a better device I could use to make my point? If the answer is yes, lose it—if not, go for it.

You don’t have to name every part

At first, my scene was just one big hot mess. Seriously. I don’t need to give the details here, but what I realized was that none of the explicit details were necessary; in fact, they undermined what I was trying to accomplish. Since we’re talking about plot/character-driven elements (i.e.: purposeful), the scene wasn't about what the characters were actually doing—it was about their individual motivation. It was about the people, not the parts. Which brings me to the next point.

Focus on the emotions

Since the purpose of the scene was to advance the plot, what actually mattered was what the characters were feeling and thinking. The act itself was a vehicle—not an actual road. So, when I revised the chapter, I focused instead on what was going through my protagonist’s mind (since we’re in his POV) as well as the words and actions of his love interest, so I could set up for the big reveal when she finally pulled back the curtain and uttered those ominous words.

Keep your characters in character during sex:

Yes, people do act and speak in ways they normally wouldn’t when they’re sexually aroused, but we’re talking plot here, not real life, and it served no purpose to have my characters express themselves this way during my scene—in fact, it would have only distracted from the point I was trying to convey in the first place. Another thing I had to pay attention to was my narrative (which again, is from my protagonist’s POV). Using explicit language in my prose would have been out of character for him, and in effect, would have bumped the reader out of the story.

Sex is generally fast—the scene should be as well.

Yes, I know there are exceptions, but if you’re writing a thriller, everything has to move quickly, and this kind of action is no exception. Since the scene occurs as a flashback instead of in real-time, I didn't have the luxury of going on and on (and on). Memories are fleeting. Even memories about sex. 

And after polling my readers, I found that most don’t want sex scenes in their suspense novels, but most stated they could tolerate one if it didn’t go on for pages and pages. So my scene moved rapidly but realistically. I made my point, made sure the reader got it, then I moved on. The entire scene took up three-quarters of a page.

It's not always what they do—it's what they don't do

In other words, sometimes it’s not what’s actually written on the pages—it’s what stated between the lines. The reader will get it. They’re smart. In addition, if there’s a budding romance between characters, the tension building between them can be even more provocative than actually having them fulfill their needs. If you write it correctly, the reader will feel it as well.

Deep breath.

I think writing this post (and avoiding the inevitable innuendoes) was more difficult than writing my actual scene.

What are your thoughts?

Re-Branding: Without The Sex Club

By L.J. Sellers, author of provocative mysteries & thrillers
I rarely use this forum to talk about my books, but recently I made a decision about my series that involves the broader topics of branding and reader perception.

In this evolving industry, writers must adapt quickly as well as continuously search for new ways to reach new readers. In that mode, I’ve decided to re-brand my Detective Jackson series by listing Secrets to Die For as the primary book and creating a new cover for it.
 
The first book on my Jackson list used to be The Sex Club, a title I've come to believe turns away as many readers as it draws in. The story has served me well, and thousands of readers have loved it. It will always be a favorite, and I'll continue to sell it. When I only had a few books on the market, it was an important part of my work.

But now that I'm about to launch my 10th book, and I'm poised to reach a huge new audience, I've decided I don't want The Sex Club to be the first thing new readers see about me. I don't want to be defined—and possibly rejected—by this title.

I considered simply changing the name, but thousands of people have read it—and loved it—and I'm not willing to annoy my faithful readers who might buy the story again with a new title, not realizing they've already read it. And a new title wouldn’t alter the content, which is equally disturbing to some conservative readers.

So I’m moving The Sex Club into my standalone thriller column. The truth is when I wrote the novel, it was intended to be a standalone with dual protagonists. Then at some point, it occurred to me the detective would make a great series character. When I wrote Secrets to Die For three years later, I based it on the Jackson character, thinking I’d try to make a series of it. So Secrets is really the first book I intended as the start of a series. Of course, readers can begin with either one.

In simple terms, this is a very competitive market with ebooks selling for $.99 and $2.99, and I can’t afford to alienate thousands of potential readers with one little word.

This has been a huge undertaking. I'm not only creating a whole new website, I also had to make a change in my "titles list" and republish each of my ebooks. I've also had to redo my bio everywhere it's posted online! And I'm sure I haven't found them all yet.

But with millions of new people joining the e-reading revolution, I think this move makes sense. What do think of this re-branding decision? Brilliant or cowardly? Worthwhile or waste of time?

Is it a Crime to Skip the Sex?

By Andrew E. Kaufman

I did it again.

That second-guessing thing I do. The one where, as my novel nears the release date I begin wondering if I’ve inadvertently missed some vitally important element in the story, if maybe I should go back and rethink things. In this case it was sex, the fact that I don’t have any.

In my book, that is.

Actually, to be more exact, my two main protagonists don’t have any, and they didn’t in my first novel, either. This got me wondering: is it a crime in crime fiction to deprive characters the pleasures of the flesh? Is it even necessary? I gave it some serious thought.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a prude, and I’m pretty sure I have no deep-seated Freudian Oedipus tugging at my psyche (at least, that’s what my therapist tells me), but in the

final analysis what it boils down to is a case of simple mechanics. With danger lurking behind every corner, having my protagonists stop to do the Wild Thing just doesn’t make much sense. Sure, a romp in the hay would be good fun and all, but there’s a time and place for everything, and if some killer’s got a bullet with their name on it, they’re not going to be thinking about getting it on; they’re going to be thinking about getting the hell out. Period.

Besides that, in suspense pacing is everything, and it seems to me this would only slow things down, and if it doesn’t serve a purpose, isn’t it just gratuitous?

And then there’s the predictability factor. It’s just too easy. How many times have we seen this in books and movies? Guy meets girl. Guy and girl get thrown into some ridiculously dangerous situation, and then somewhere amidst all the chaos, guy and girl fall in love. It doesn’t work that way in real life, so why should it work that way in fiction? We’re not sexually attracted to everyone who crosses our path.

Of course, this isn’t an across-the-board condemnation of sex in crime novels. I’m all about the theory that if it works, use it. And I’m sure that under the right circumstances it could actually work. But so far for me, not so much. In the end I decided I was okay with not having any sex.

In my book, that is.

But what about you? Readers: how do you feel about it? Sex or no sex with your novels? And authors: Do you use it, and if so, how? I'm interested in hearing both sides.

Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll

By Andrew E. Kaufman

As an author, I find it difficult to write about murder without taking a trip to the Dark Side. After all, I think on some level we sort of expect that. Logically speaking, if you're going to have a killer, then you're going to have deviant behavior. The two seem to go hand in hand. But just how dark and how deviant?

For me, I draw the line where gratuitous begins, and most often, that's where I find trouble lurking between the pages of novels. Using sex, drugs, or violence just for the sake having it or for shock value does a book little good. In fact, I think, it'll do more harm. Readers know the difference, and they know when they're being played. If you don't believe me, check out some of the emails I get. These folks know their stuff, and many understand plot structure as well as any author.

In my novel, While the Savage Sleeps, there is violence. No question. It's graphic and it's frequent. But here's the thing: it's also absolutely necessary. Not only are the plot and the characters driven by it, but the final resolution also depends on it. Without that element, the story would fall flat and the reader would likely feel short changed. Context is the key, and I think a good question for any author to ask him or herself when considering whether or not an element belongs is: Would this story suffer without it? If the answer is no, then chances are you don't need it, and chances are the reader will feel the same way.

As for sex, typically, I don’t put it in my books—not because I’m a prude or that I have anything against the act itself. It’s just that logistically it doesn't seem to make sense.

Here’s an example: There’s a killer on the loose, and Sam and Linda are running for their lives because he’s hot on their trail. If all that weren’t enough, Detective Holiday thinks Sam could in fact be the killer. The clock is ticking and the two must not only prove Sam’s innocence, they must also find the real suspect.

I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking sex is going to be the last thing on Sam and Linda's minds. Not only that, but it would seem in addition to slowing down the pace, adding this element would also detract from the story. Now I'll agree that there are authors who can expertly weave sex into a suspense thriller rather seamlessly, and I applaud them for that. It just so happens that I’m not one of them. But from what I’ve read, neither are a few others, and when I see it needlessly thrown in, it comes across as contrived and gratuitous. It’s also the exact point where they lose me.

There’s been a lot of discussion about the F-bomb, namely, whether or not it belongs in novels. I'd guess the answer depends on the reader’s tolerance level. Personally, I don’t have a problem with it, and I use it whenever I feel it’s necessary in terms of character development. My job is to make fiction seem real, and the reality is, people do use the word. I also believe that when implemented correctly it can add authenticity to a character. Think of it this way: if a cop said,“darn it” in a novel, would it make you want to continue reading? Not me.

Of course, throw in a drug-addicted, sexually compulsive, cussing sociopath, and really, anything goes. Again, it’s all about context.

Overall, I know opinions on this subject vary, and as an author I’m always interested in knowing what readers think. So I’d like to ask: Do these elements bother you in a book, and just how far is too far?