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Candy-Store Problem
A candy-store problem is when you have a lot of choices, and all of them are good–or at least not bad.
I have four ideas for books–a paranormal novel, a double murder mystery with a twist, a father-son relationship novel, and a mother-daughters novel. I have been trying to work on the paranormal novel as it’s an old manuscript that would need to be rewritten, as is the double murder mystery. The other two are fully outlined from beginning to end.
The murder mystery feels the most like a conventional genre book and the most commercial. The paranormal one feels like another small press book with the twists and turns it takes. The other two feel more conventional as well.
When I set back out doing this, I decided I would rewrite the four older manuscripts first, querying indie and small presses for the first three (Hurricane Baby, Looking for Home, and the paranormal book) and query agents for the murder mystery to see if I could get a Big 5 deal. Then I’d write the other two from scratch and maybe be of age to retire if I wanted to or try to think up new ideas if I didn’t.
Now I am wondering whether that’s the proper path to take.
But at least my choices are all good because they all involve writing!
So please think about me in the next few weeks as I chew over my choices. Happy writing to you all!
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Getting it Right
I’ve talked before about my mantra for writing, no matter what kind it is: get it right and tell the truth. Those can be slippery concepts for fiction. Nonfiction can be easier–depending on what it is you’re trying to tell the truth about, such as in memoir, where truth can often be an elusive concept.
I’ve not always been good at telling the truth in my life. But eventually I learned that lying burdens the brain because you’re always having to think harder to keep your story straight.
The other prong of it I got to thinking about recently as I did some neurological testing to see what might be causing my memory issues or if it was just normal aging. It turned out that I am functioning fine for someone my age. But the doctor did note some interesting findings–one of which was that during the testing, I emphasized doing a task correctly rather than doing it quickly.
Ah, here was a question with a clear answer from my life! I told him that was an easy one to solve; in school, I used to be the first one in class to finish tests, but I didn’t always make a perfect score. So my mom impressed on me that I only got credit for getting the right answers, not for turning the paper in quickly. So all my life, I’ve been oriented to getting right answers and doing something correctly rather than quickly.
Back in my day, some teachers would go over the answers to a test by calling on people who got the question incorrect to give their answer so the teacher could explain why their answer was wrong. The first time that happened to me, I wanted to sink down through the floor in shame. That experience stuck with me my whole life–so I try as much as possible to get the details right in whatever I’m writing.
All of this, of course, can stop creativity in its tracks. The trick I use is to write about what I know I can get right first–then fill in the blanks with research and expert opinion. At least that’s the goal.
How do you approach truth in writing? Let us know in the comments!
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Upcoming Schedule
Well, it seems for a bit that I’m back on the travel circuit–I made a stop at a storied bookstore this weekend, go to a celebration of another tomorrow, and then travel for a friend’s book launch the first of November.
Yesterday Bob and I went to Oxford, Mississippi–former home of American novelist William Faulkner and of the University of Mississippi, home of the state-supported residential MFA program. Writing is in the very air there–literally everyone in Oxford is working on a book, if the gossip is to be believed.
To that end, Oxford also features a set of independent bookstores–Square Books, featuring adult contemporary works; Square Books, Jr., housing children’s books; Off Square Books, purveyor of extra and remaindered books, and Rare Square Books, repository of difficult-to-find editions. We visited Square Books because I had talked with them about doing an event earlier this year. We never had settled out how to make that happen, but I did know they stocked some of my books on the shelf.
We went in and were greeted by owner Richard Howorth–we told him it was our first time to be there, so he pointed out the different sections of the store. I introduced myself and mentioned that I’d like to sign the copies of Hurricane Baby they had, so we hunted them up in the Mississippi authors section, and I borrowed a pen from the front counter and signed then, with my hand shaking a bit as it’s prone to do. They seemed very appreciative of that, and we spent sometimes wandering around looking at everything. So that was fun to meet everyone.
Tomorrow I go to Jackson’s independent bookstore, Lemuria Books, for their 50th birthday celebration. I’m just going to go and visit for a bit and tell them how much I appreciate their support over my author journey. Probably will also mention that I have a new book under contract and get that news out and circulating.
Then on November 1, my friend Shannon Evans is releasing a pair of new books, both on antebellum homes in Columbus, Mississippi. Wisteria Place: A House of History and Haunting and Riverview: A Monument to Greek Revival Architecture are pocket histories of these homes that came to define to cityscape of the town of Columbus. And she invited Bob and I to her event, actually being held at Wisteria Place. So we look forward to that.
Anyway. Next week I can update you all on the progress on my second book and where its development stands as of that point. Happy reading and writing, everyone!
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THE GOOD NEWS!
Last month, on September 23, the day after I had a very good birthday celebration, our home phone rang during dinner. We constantly get phone solicitor calls at our house, and I assumed this would be one of those. My husband Bob picked it up and said hello.
After a second, he said, “May I ask who’s calling?”
Another few seconds, and he handed the phone to me. “Amy Wilson from something press.”
I wondered what this was about. I took the phone. “Hello?”
The woman introduced herself to me as well and then said, “You know, some information I just think ought not be in an email—the phone can be more personal. I read your book, Looking for Home, and I love it! Would you like to publish it with me?”
I sat back in my chair, absolutely floored. It had taken a solid year to sell Hurricane Baby: Stories. I’d been querying Looking for Home for not quite two months—and here was an offer! Was she serious?!
So I started thinking aloud—I asked what the terms were, how was the contract set up, etc. She gave me some information about that. I asked if I could have the rest of the week to check with other publishers who still had the book to see if they wanted to counteroffer, and she agreed to that. She said she would get a hard-copy contract drawn up, sent to me, I could look over it, and then if it was satisfactory, I could sign it and send it back.
During the whole time we were talking, my mind was yammering away in the background, “You sold your second book. You sold your second book. YOU SOLD YOUR SECOND BOOK!”
After we finished talking, I looked over at Bob, who was looking at me with an expectant look on his face. I said, “Well, I just sold Looking for Home.”
I told him what she had said about the contract. So we waited.
She emailed me on Thursday, October 2, that she’d mailed the contract in a priority envelope. I received it the next Monday, looked it over, and then sent it back with my signature.
So we’ve been exchanging emails with questions and answers and details ever since.
Looking for Home is now under contract with Red Dirt Press of Oklahoma with a tentative release date of October 2026!
Thanks to all of you who have been so supportive of my work as I embark on this new author journey! Come on along for the ride!
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Meeting the Moment
I’ve started wondering what exactly I need to be writing about.
I’ve got a novel idea that excited me for a while.
But the wackier this country is getting, the more I wonder if I need to be using my voice, small as it is, to do more than just fret about that.
I was schooled on the idea of journalists as objective observers of the actions of the body politic–good, bad, or indifferent. I tried to embody that in my writing, giving readers facts to let them make their own conclusions. This tack was pretty easy when I was doing features coverage: who, what, when, where, why, and how pretty much covered it.
Then I got into investigative reporting on mental health issues in my state–a topic very close to home given my diagnosis of bipolar disorder. I wrote and wrote and wrote–exposed, exposed, and exposed–and exactly nothing changed in practical terms. A few new laws got passed about training more people and setting up a new task force to replace the last task force, but that was all.
And I got burned out.
I could not see how someone involved in mental health matters could have read my work and not come away with a resolve to do what they could to change matters. But it seems they could.
I had been raising awareness for almost twenty years. I was tired of raising awareness. I wanted action. And it wasn’t forthcoming.
Now this country is on a collision course with history. I’m in the catbird seat to watch it–older, wiser, jaded, smart enough to able to see clearly through the smoke and mirrors, and seriously wondering where all my ideals went.
If we are no longer a free society, then what are we?
I’ve skated through life being comfortable with my political ideology as a moderate–suspicious of extremists of any flavor. I still feel that people can be trusted to make good decisions when given all the facts. But the very concept of what constitutes a fact is under attack from every conceivable direction these days.
What should we, as writers, do? It no longer seems to matter if we expose corruption as there’s no guarantee it will ever be prosecuted. No one seems to be interested in reading or hearing about government malfeasance unless the content already fits their own narrative.
I believe the answer is to write anyway. At least you can go to bed and sleep soundly, knowing you did your part.
I don’t know what this means for me yet. But I’m ready to find out.
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Watch This Space!
Updates soon!
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First Amendment
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
There is the law. Plain and simple.
I am an absolutist on the First Amendment. An American has the right to say, print, write, sculpt, compose, or create any kind of speech, and the Congress cannot make such expressions illegal. No matter what that American says or does. Americans have the right to freedom of speech.
What Americans do not have a right to is a platform, an audience, a market, attention, renumeration, or approval by society. No one should be required to view your art, read your book, or listen to a performance of your music. Americans have the freedom to choose what speech they will or will not consume. That’s why televisions come with an off button. That’s why books can be returned for their purchase price. That’s why people wear noise-cancelling earphones.
Somewhere in the discussion of free speech, the metric for speech being free is no longer that I have a right to say whatever I want, but that others have to be required to approve of what I want to say and support it with their words, their vote, and their tax dollars or my right to free speech is being repressed.
No. The First Amendment makes no such promises. People can and will hate you for your speech. People can and will be made uncomfortable by speech they don’t like. People can and will make you pay consequences for words they find offensive or beyond the pale.
That’s how a free society works. That’s how adults interact with each other. Demanding favorable attention for your free speech antics stops being cute around five years of age. Learn better. Be better. Do better.
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Mississippi Book Festival 2025
I went again to this year’s book festival and had a wonderful time–I met MJ there and we walked around saying hello to everyone I knew. I also met several new people that I had not before, like the folks in charge of the Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters, the University of Southern Mississippi Creative Writing program, the future Greenfield Residency program, and the Hancock County Library programs. Really neat organizations that I hope can continue on even as support for the arts is dwindling here.
I’m feeling at loose ends. My enthusiasm for my new manuscript suddenly disappeared last week. It was very disturbing. And I’m not quite able to figure out how to find it again. I may just have to do some for-my-eyes-only writing to figure out my why and what I actually want to do with the project. I may wait until I sell my current manuscript to start back on it in earnest since the energy is not there at this point. We will see.
But one of the sessions yesterday was very illuminating on what may have happened–the moderator, Steve Almond, said that you need to write what you’re obsessed about. When I first wrote the manuscript, I had an obsession–to explore the relationship between these two characters and see where it would go. But now I’m turning it into a very different book–about how the female lead overcomes when her life suddenly falls apart. I need to figure out why readers should care about this character. So I think that’s where I’m going to direct my efforts.
Happy writing, everybody!
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First Nibble!
This morning, I got my first bite on my queries—a press sent me an email to submit my entire manuscript of Looking for Home. It’s a group in Oklahoma specializing in Southern literature. So mine may be right up their alley. Or not. We will have to see.
I sent three more queries around the first of the month–another press opens on September 15, and another one does on September 30. Then three more in October and four in November. The path just keeps rolling forward!
In other news, my last events went off without a hitch. Each one was fun and informative, and I tried to make the best case for the book I could in each interview. But the best marketing effort for the month was definitely me talking about networking helping my author journey on Jane Friedman’s site. Drove a lot of traffic to my blog and a lot of orders to my publisher. So that was amazing.
I’ve gone ahead and started my third book manuscript, with a working title of What Lies Ahead. I’m reworking yet another old manuscript from when I was writing back in the late 2000s. I’m moving very slowly writing the new first chapter that will hopefully set the tone for the entire rest of the book. I’m looking forward to feeling like I have a handle on the material. Because right now I don’t. 🙂
Oh well. We will see how it goes. Happy reading and writing everyone!
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Dogmud Tavern
My husband and I were trying to figure out where to eat lunch today, and I was checking out Google to see if I could find somewhere that looked good that we maybe hadn’t been to. I found Dogmud Tavern–we had passed by it several times in driving in that area, so I scrolled down to the menu, and the name of one of the dishes caught my eye:
Sandwiches: Werewolf’s Bait.
Wait. . . WHAT?
Then I saw another sandwich: Rebeus Hagrid. Then this: Werechicken Pizza
Then the desserts: The Shredder–a TURTLE brownie.
I started reading the entree names to Bob. We had found, in little ol’ Ridgeland, MS, a restaurant where the dishes seemed to be inspired by literary fantasy worlds every nerd in the world knows. We HAD to visit if just to satisfy our curiosity.
So we drove over. We walked in the door and were greeted by a young lady into a reasonable facsimile of a medieval mead hall. Banners from various fandoms–Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, anime and manga–hung from the ceiling. The bar sported a giant skeleton pouring drinks above it. Display cases with Star Wars, Harry Potter, and other big LEGO builds stood along the walls.
I turned and looked at my husband; he was grinning, just looking around and taking it all in. I said, “I think we’ve just found our happy place.”
Seeing the actual menu was a revelation. There was a page of brunch items labeled “Second Breakfast”. A page of twenty different booze shots–which one you received was, of course, determined by a roll of a d20 dice, if that’s how you roll.
I asked the waitress, “Is this a chain restaurant?”
She smiled. “No, we’re local. We celebrated our fourth year in April.”
The food was delicious, but the feeling of community was even better. The whole time we were there, I felt the same sense of being seen and understood as I did when watching the movie “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”, where all the characters turned out to be heroes of 19th century British literature. A literary fantasy restaurant? In Mississippi? That shouldn’t be possible.
Yet there she stands.
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Julie Liddell Whitehead 