Home » Posts tagged 'fiction'
Tag Archives: fiction
White Castle – My Upcoming Book – An Excerpt
As promised, I’m posting an excerpt from my upcoming book, White Castle.
First, is a synopsis.
SYNOPSIS
Along Highway 1, between New Orleans and Baton Rouge, sprawled upon three hundred and fifty acres is The Hammond Plantation. A dilapidated and patinated wrought-iron gate surrounding the mansion separates the future from the past. Tangled between thick cobwebs is a subtle but mysterious power which prevents the structure from crumbling to the ground. The decrepit forty-eight-room house is desperate for love and won’t fully flourish until its family returns home.
Love is not something Melba Chaveaux has encountered lately, and the sudden death of her husband heightens her yearning. She covets a distraction from her loss and gives in to her best friend’s advice to return to a place which has been a source of contention since childhood. As a child, Melba never gave credence to her mother’s implausible assertions: that the white owner of The Hammond Plantation was her father, who, given the era in which he lived, uncharacteristically bequeathed all that he owned to Melba.
Although it’s safe to remain within her cenobitic existence in New Hope, Pennsylvania, White Castle’s secrets prompt questions everyone is reluctant to answer, and the deeper Melba digs the more acutely personal they become. Fueled by a lifelong hatred for Louisiana, she fully intends to retaliate against those who’ve wronged her family with the intent to leave them with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. As she works the land and makes discoveries of buried secrets, her hatred makes a pivotal transformation and forces her to address a nagging and undeniable question. Where is her real home? Is it her Pennsylvania estate where she and Daniel lived, or is it the run-down mansion in the swampy bayous of Louisiana?
White Castle begins at the close of the 20th century and shines a light on all who are tempted to neglect what our forefathers fought so hard to preserve and pass on to us. Though White Castle is a real place in Louisiana, this is a fictitious tale of a fierce and determined woman who overcomes numerous pitfalls to redefine herself, forgive the unforgivable, and experience an immeasurable love for all that matters—family and the earth beneath her feet.
PROLOGUE
December 1999
Daniel Chaveaux woke early and stood at a wall of windows in his family room gazing at naked trees on several hills behind his home. Steam rose from his coffee cup. The black brew tasted awful, bitter, but he needed it, suffered it, until the stimulant did its job. On the couch, in the middle of his open briefcase, lay a calendar covered with sticky-notes. Next to it, four tubes filled with architectural drawings, blueprints, and floor plans. The fireplace crackled, wood shifted. The family room, warm. Tea lights bathed the room in a soft, glimmering light. The floor above him creaked. His wife, Melba, was awake. He assumed she’d soon rest in a chair to ease pain in her back. He should have changed his major, became a doctor, not an architect. She needed healing for her back, healing for the wrong he had done that medicine could not cure. His offense against her twisted his gut. A sudden sense of dread overcame him, the kind of dread experienced when someone dies, someone close, someone you can’t live without. He examined the hot brew as if to wish it was something else—a medicinal concoction, or better yet, a truth serum, and a place to hide from the horrific fallout sure to follow.
He bit the inside of his lip, aware his time had run out; aware if he continued with his need for discretion, that nightmarish dream would not let go of him. The dream began with violent winds beating against a frantic sky diver. In desperation, the sky diver’s frenetic hands scrambled for the three-ring release of a faulty parachute. Daniel screamed in silence. Clawed through his hallucinated state to save him. The man hit the ground in a loud thud. Daniel bolted upright in bed, covered in perspiration, fighting with the wretched lie that things would be fine.
He blamed the torturous nightmare on his son’s twenty-first birthday, a celebratorial occasion that ended in a dispute. On December 5th, Daniel presented the young man with a 1962 Ford Mustang—a white, four-cylinder, open two-seater—a car his son had coveted for over seven years. Instead of gratitude, the young man spewed a torrential hailstorm and laced it with an unexpected promise: “When I turned sixteen, I realized things you told me didn’t add up. For the last five years, I’ve kept a journal. Now, I’m certain you’re an imposter and I plan to follow you every day to see for myself if you’re really as devious as you appear, father.”
Each night since, Daniel’s whole body convulsed. In daylight, he barely walked a straight line. Couldn’t hold anything steady in his hand. Looking around every street corner, peeping through curtains with heightened suspicion, flinching and staring at ringing telephones accentuated his fear that today might be the day his son made good on his promise.
If fate allowed one modicum of grace, a smidgen of extra time, he intended to explain his truth wasn’t spawned from something vile and malicious. Nor was it done in a drunken stupor. No, he went to great lengths to consider his actions. And if they—Melba, and his son—cared to hear him out, they would understand he was far less selfish than either of them ever imagined.
Melba grunted, signaling it was time to leave. She stood in the doorway, a purse strapped over her shoulder, a coat across her arm. Daniel mumbled a half-hearted “Good morning,” then placed his cup in the sink and led her to the front door. As their hired hand loaded suitcases in the trunk of their black Escalade, Daniel memorized the delicate curve of Melba’s chin, the softness of her eyes, the sweet scent of her perfume. No doubt, she sensed his uneasiness. To her credit, she said nothing. He loved that about her—how she retained her dignity, her flawless elegance, her magnificent charm. Her refrain instigated his lifelong need to grant whatever her heart desired, a desire which fomented his present dilemma.
Today, her departure for a conference in Illinois made him almost gleeful. During her absence, he planned to plot a solid course of action to explain his odd behavior and disgruntled attitude. Once he opened the car door on the driver’s side and caught his hired hand thumbing the steering wheel and staring back at him, a cold sliver of guilt pierced his soul so deep he almost cried out. Their eyes locked. Brows furrowed. Unable to thwart the numerous occasions they spoke in secret, Daniel stepped away, almost tripped over his feet. He regretted his many confessions. Yet, among all his associates, none proved more trustworthy than his hired hand.
The Escalade jerked when the driver switched gears. Daniel kissed his index and middle fingers and pressed them on the passenger window, then stepped away. Melba sat stiff and erect, staring at him, at the imprints on glass, then at him again. She lowered the window, parted her lips, but did not speak. Familiar pain and disappointment set deep in her eyes, tugged at his heart, formed lumps in his gut. During all their yesteryears, as much as he tried, he never eradicated her sorrow. That haunted him, gave him no peace … until he did the unthinkable.
He stroked her silky brown locks with his eyes, trying his best to suppress the urge to explain he never meant to deceive her. “Remember, I love you. I always will. Things will be better when you return. I promise.” Each word clung to his throat like clothes after a rinse cycle.
As the vehicle rolled away, he considered the longevity of their marriage; imagined he and his wife celebrating their forty-seventh year in rickety old rocking chairs, sipping tea, enjoying the hills beyond their thirty-two-acre estate. He huffed, rubbed his long ebony fingers across his nose. Squinted at a beam of sunlight flickering through leaves of a nearby tree. He longed for the courage to come clean and tell his side of the story, but unsure how to go about it.
Inside his office, he removed a sheet of fine linen from his desk. With unequivocal certainty, he began to do what he should have done long ago—write an apology.
Greetings, My Dearest; Baby, I need you to; and My Darling, were poor beginnings for the disturbing things he must say. No, the news isn’t all that bad. There were great benefits for what he had done. He understood the long game … understood his actions would right past wrongs. But that was familiar thinking, nothing more than a feeble substitute for his truth. No matter how sorrowful or how much he wished for a different outcome, his hope had hitched a ride on a speedboat and teetered on the edge of a dark horizon.
For the first time, he imagined Melba losing her dignity, screaming, leaving him no time to explain. He wadded up each meaningless salutation and tossed them in the trash. Another attempt to address his wife shook him so bad he lost control of the quill. Ink droplets smeared fine linen and stained his fingers. Calligraphy required a steady hand, conviction, a commitment to detail; none of which he possessed.
He pushed away from his desk and entered the bathroom to wash his hands. He recalled how Melba’s tender hands cupped his earlier that morning, doing her best to encourage him to share his pain. Harsh rejection silenced her. Caused irreparable harm. Pangs of regret growing deeper and wider than an endless sky.
He closed his eyes to calm himself, then released a prolonged and mournful groan no longer under his control. Fearful and uneasy, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs in slow, repetitive strokes. Then, at last, he whispered,
“How do I explain to the love of my life that she has a son?”
FEEL FREE to comment on what you think about the story.
Getting the Most from a Critique
Getting the Most from a Critique
by
Donna B. Comeaux
June 24, 2026
One of the most important reasons authors seek a critique is to avoid embarrassment.
It’s nothing like scouring through virtual retail stores, reading the sample chapter, and finding errors. It makes me cringe to read repetitive words; wince in confusion when I have no idea where the character is located; scratch my scalp while questioning what the environment might smell and look like; grind my teeth as I try to decipher who’s talking; and tempted to throw the book across the room when I have no clear understanding of what has the character so riled up.
So, if critics are to help save us embarrassment, why do authors have a love-hate relationship with them?
First, critics use too much liberty to rewrite an author’s story. Authors want to give critics the benefit of the doubt, but by the time an author reaches chapter two of their red-ink-infested novel, they’ve had enough of those rewrites.
Second, critics don’t take the time to fully engage in the author’s story. An author can quickly sense a critic’s disengagement by their repetitive questions to obvious answers provided in previous chapters or paragraphs.
These two scenarios discourage authors, and they soon lose trust in their critics. This distrust breeds a love-hate relationship that’s not easily repaired.
Bottom line, critics use too much liberty by overstepping their boundaries. When this happens, critics take the reins of authorship. And when critics ask repetitive questions, authors suspect there’s a lack of interest, whether it’s justified or not.
If you want to get more out of a critique and curtail these painful side effects, authors must set boundaries and provide critics with more information about their story.
Here are a few rules to go by:
Rule 1 — Provide a synopsis of your manuscript (or chapter).
Including a short book description of your story informs critique partners of where your story is headed. It also helps the author and critic to be in sync at the very beginning of the story.
Most importantly, a synopsis can potentially weed out unwanted and uninterested critics. Sometimes our incentive to critique has nothing to do with our attraction to the story. As you well know, if you’re not fully vested in a story, you will soon set it aside. This lackluster interest has the potential to urge many critics to offer an opinionated narrative that doesn’t quite fit your story.
Do yourself a favor and give a vivid depiction of your story so you can attract the best critics for your manuscript. If a critic gets a clear explanation of the storyline and of your objectives, the critic can better determine if they have something to offer.
Rule 2 — State your objective.
Your objective should be clear. Before requesting a critique, ask yourself: What do I want readers to focus on as they read my story? Are there plot holes? Do I need suggestions for those plot holes? Am I lacking scenery and a sense of place? Is there enough characterization? Should I tighten my dialogue? Is more dialogue needed?
Too often we forget not all authors make good critics. And not all critics make good writers.
Critics need enough guidance to be of help to you. And only you can determine how much guidance to give them.
If your critiques are not fulfilling your needs, you probably haven’ta found the right critique team and/or your objectives aren’t coming across well.
Rule 3 — Set boundaries.
Request your critics not rewrite sentences. The main problem with rewriting an author’s sentence is you run the risk of changing the author’s voice to suit that of the critic. This is just flat out wrong and disrespectful. This infraction occurs time and time again by the most well-meaning individuals. Consider the time it takes to sit and restructure a sentence, not to mention a critic’s failure to capture the author’s original intent.
The solution to this problem is simple. Provide the author with an explanation of why the sentence seems off. Explain what the sentences actually say vs. what you think the author meant to say. Share how it made you feel. Share your doubts. But whatever you do, don’t rewrite the sentence for them. Let the author take charge of the rewrites.
Rule 4 — Inform your critic how to edit your manuscript.
Critics can use several methods to edit/critique your manuscript. I like to have my manuscript line-edited at the very spot where my infractions occurred. If an explanation is needed, add it in that same spot. I don’t like end-of-chapter summaries. And I hate receiving an editor’s report and won’t use editors who insist on providing one.
It’s like asking me to read an editor’s eighteen-page report, then search through my document for the problem.
To this, I say, “No thank you!”
Perhaps you like a red-line or a chapter summary. That’s allowed. Choose whatever works best for you.
But if you prefer a red-line, be fully prepared to receive your manuscript filled with red ink. This comes as a shocker to some and can take an emotional toll on your psyche, leaving you to doubt your ability to write.
If you fit into this category, ask your critics to please give you a paragraph or chapter summary. I promise, your heart and blood pressure will thank me later.
If you don’t want critics to give any attention to grammar, formatting, or misspellings, tell them. However, formatting can be a game-changer. Bad formatting can turn critics off and you may never hear from them again.
Rule 5 — How not to engage with your critic.
One of the worse things you can do is engage in a debate with your critic. You will not only create hard feelings, but you may lose them and gain a reputation for being too argumentative.
This is the way I see it: a rough-around-the-edges critic is someone I need. They don’t pull any punches. One thing that resonates from them is their honesty. Some don’t have good bedside manners, but if you can get over that and look at what you’re really trying to accomplish, you come to realize this harsh critic is one of few who is paying closer attention to your story. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule, but for the most part, these critics are crucial-thinking, nitpicky people who can spot a plot hole in a milli-second. They can tell you if your dialogue fits the era or if it sounds lame and childish. They don’t mince words when directing you to make chapter four, chapter one. And they’re quick to mention when a string of events are not in sequential order.
It’s okay to disagree with your critics. It’s your story, after all. Only you know how it ends. But before you dig in and voice your argument, step away from the criticism for a few days to give yourself time to mull over what they’ve said. They might be right in their assessment of your manuscript.
IN CONCLUSION, critiques are stressful. If someone says they aren’t, check their pulse. Seriously.
Authors pour their hearts and souls into their writing and are a bit touchy when dealing with negativity. No matter how open-minded you are, we all take offense to criticism of our work.
BE AWARE! Not all criticism is appropriate for your book. Why? Because your critic is usually looking at a snapshot of your work and they have no idea some of the questions initially raised are answered later in the story. No one knows your book like you do. You get to decide if a particular criticism will make your book better or not.
Remember, the main purpose of a critique is to save you public embarrassment. Carefully weigh the criticism you receive. It could make a huge difference in your success as a writer.
Donna B. Comeaux
Writing Tips – Flashbacks/Backstory – No. 12
FLASHBACKS
How to Bring Background into the Foreground
I stole this title from Sol Stein’s Stein on Writing, a book he wrote and published in 1995. I love this book. I think a lot of writers of reference books could learn something extremely important from Sol Stein: Get to the point!
Stein doesn’t waste time with a bunch of nothing filling up the pages. He explains the point of his delivery, gives you an example of the bad and right way to write, and moves on to the next problematic issue. The book is 308 pages long, and that includes four pages of a Final Word and six pages of a Glossary.
I’m here today to discuss how to make your background sound like it’s happening in the present. And I have Sol Stein to thank for all that I’ve learned.
People get hung up on backstory. Too many writers feel like they must use “had” in every line to convey to their readers that they are speaking of the past. What they don’t understand is that they are boring their readers. And you know what readers do when they are bored with a book?
They yawn.
They fall asleep.
If pushed to the limit, they will place the book on a shelf.
And in a worst-case scenario, they will throw the book in the trash.
Ouch!
That is not on your mind when you spend hours sitting at your computer pounding the keys to finish your book.
You want people to enjoy the read. And most of all, you want readers to be so excited about the read that they’ll spread the word by writing a favorable book review.
But I must admit, habits die hard.
It’s easier to write “had” when we’re recapping the past.
But here’s another thing writers tend to forget. We are pushing our readers out of the story; completely excluding them when we use “had” so repetitively. You see, “had” is redundant when used too often. And there’s nothing about its use that helps a writer create an active scene. And if your scene isn’t active, your reader inevitably becomes an outsider. They are not immersed in the story because they are being “told” what is going on, not experiencing what’s going on.
Now, what do I mean exactly when I say the reader isn’t immersed in the story?
I mean, you as the writer, are “telling” your readers what’s happening rather than helping them participate in the story. You are not using strong verbs to help your readers relate to your characters’ feelings and what they are going through.
Still don’t get it?
Let me show you.
Example:
Caroline is beautiful. She’s always been pretty.
Explanation: In the sentence above, I just told you something about Caroline. She’s beautiful. She’s always been pretty.
When a writer creates sentences like this, one of the first things a reader is looking for next is an explanation that will define beauty from the beholder’s eyes. Beauty means different things to different people, so the reader wants to know what is it about Caroline that makes her beauty so special. The same can be said about pretty. And if we compare beautyto pretty, we’ll find ourselves tied in knots.
The reader may never be able to explain to a writer what’s missing. After all, they are readers, not writers. But writers are also readers and we know what’s missing when we read a book. There’s a sense of loss that overcomes a reader if the writer doesn’t explain the missing pieces, or doesn’t answer the unanswered questions.
It is our responsibility as a writer to give the reader what they hunger for, whether they realize why they are hungry or not.
Let me try to show you what the reader needs to understand what the character means by beauty or pretty.
A Better Example:
The smooth, oval shape of Caroline’s face didn’t have a trace of discoloration. Her sumptuous, full lips begged for a kiss. But it was her lashes that won Dillon over, feathering toward him and teasing him to come closer, to get down on one knee to propose, though he met her only an hour ago.
When you begin to write your manuscript, you are doing all you can to just get your manuscript on paper, to get all your thoughts down. The first draft is not the time to worry about such things as backstory.
Once your story is down on paper and you’ve come to the end, it’s during your later drafts that you want to concentrate on how your backstory comes across.
Backstory Example:
I remember when my boss had called me into his office and had said, “Sit down.” He had remained standing. In those days I was like a new army recruit. I had taken everything said to me as an order. I hadn’t wanted to sit down with him looming over me. (Stein on Writing, p.145)
As you can see, there are five “had” in the paragraph above. This is poor writing, lazy writing. I’m of the opinion that once you’ve established something is taking place in the past, you only need to use “had” once, or perhaps not at all. After using “had” once, write everything else as if it’s happening now, in the present. When it’s time to return to the present day in the novel, open the beginning paragraph with words like “now” or “Dillon shook the thought and continued on with …”
So, how can you improve on the Backstory Example above?
A Better Example:
Not too many years ago, my boss called me in his office and said, “Sit down, Dillon.” I remained standing. In those days, everything seemed like an order to me. I was a new recruit, green behind the ears, afraid a school principal would report me to Mother.
The first Backstory Example comes directly for Stein on Writing. The corrective version is partially my own concoction.
There are a couple of things I want you to notice in the “Better Example” version.
- The writer is not anchored to “had.” Without repetitive use of the word, the writer is free to be as creative as he wants when writing about the past.
- Notice all the new information the reader receives. They discover things about Dillon that they did not see in the previous version. They get to envision a new recruit being green behind the ears, that he feels like a boy all over again who may have been afraid to answer to his Mother.
- Everything mentioned in #2 above, helps the reader make a connection to Dillon. They can relate to being sent to the principal’s office, they can relate to being green behind the ears and probably teased because of it, and they get to see that Dillon wants to do what’s right (remain standing out of respect).
There is so much more that can be added to this backstory, but that will depend on the type of story you’re writing, and how much you want to delve into Dillon’s past at this point.
There is absolutely no reason why we as writers need to fill our prose with words that don’t do anything but clutter our writing and make it sluggish.
“Had” isn’t a bad word. It’s necessary. It’s the repetitive use that makes it distasteful. And keep that in mind about any word you use repetitively. We, by our very profession, are perfectionists. Writers are always looking for new ways to reinvent the wheel. One way to do that is to strive for clarity. To give your readers a clearer picture of what’s going on behind the scenes with your characters, we must unpackage these make-believe souls and unveil what makes them tick. In the Better Backstory version, you got to see what makes Dillon tick. He’s respectful. He follows the rules. He definitely has an affection and respect for his mother.
Backstory is an excellent place to unpeel the complex layers of your characters. Doing it in small doses creates a wonderful tease and brews tension. Creating backstories that feel like they are happening now is a wonderful opportunity to breeze your reader through a torrid past and make them feel like they just entered a brand new world. They don’t feel the drudgery and sluggishness of all the “had” that have gone by.
Habits die hard. I know. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of backstory. I still struggle with it. But I’ve tackled this issue long enough to know that if I stick with it and drench myself into a world that is happening before my eyes, and transfer it from my brain to the paper, my readers will forget they are reading about a past and feel totally immersed in a present that happened long ago. And believe me, my readers will thank me for the experience.
So, don’t avoid the stormy “had.” Stand in the rain of a backstory and wield your words around until you see daylight.
Then, sit back and pat yourself on the shoulder once you’ve transformed every “had” in every paragraph into an activepresent-day story.
Written by Donna B. Comeaux
Author, Breathe for Me
Need a critique partner, email me. Write Stuff is a critique group for romance writers.
Tips for Writing a Book Proposal
My first tip for writing a book proposal is to go to Steve Laube’s website and listen to the audio on this subject. You will also find a book proposal template. Download it. Study it. Use it as you see fit. You can also read my previous posts on this subject.
Other than your search for a literary agent, writing a book proposal is the most daunting task you’ll ever encounter. There are not many shortcuts. So, you might as well roll up your sleeves and pour yourself a very strong cup of caffeine, say a prayer, and get started.
I had no idea what I was getting into until I listened to Steve Laube’s audio class about a month ago. Since listening to his lecture, I’ve had time to think on this. My mind is always churning in search of ways to make things run smoother, and sometimes to my detriment, faster.
Here are a few things I came up with to help write that book proposal.
If you are in the beginning stages of writing a new book, I suggest you write a two-line synopsis at the end of each chapter. Highlight that synopsis in yellow, or whatever color you prefer.
Why?
Because in most book proposals, one of the things they’ll request is you give them a chapter-by-chapter rundown of the book. Not all publishers will ask for this, but it is better to be prepared than to start from scratch. You can also choose, like I’ve done with my completed manuscript, to write this synopsis during your last read of the book–the last read that comes just before you send it to your editor.
I’ve also found that this is an idea project you can undertake while beta readers are reading your book. This exercise helps calm the nervous energy stirring in you while you wait for feedback on your book.
NOTE: It won’t hurt to write this synopsis in your manuscript, especially if you highlight it. For one, if you do this, the synopsis is always there and a part of the book. Two, if you highlight the synopsis, you can easily delete it before you forward it to a publisher/editor/literary agent. Three, it is easily identified whenever you feel a need to update it. Four, it’s easily accessible because it’s located at the “end” of each chapter.
The other thing that keeps us stuck in the mud about writing book proposals is the tedious task of coming up with a pitch. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve Googled “pitch,” looked up examples, and I still struggle with coming up with one that fits my book. Who goes around summarizing their book in one to two sentences? I’m, as you know, longwinded. You have any idea how hard it is for a longwinded person to summarize anything in one or two sentences? I’m doomed!!
Okay. That was bit of an exaggeration. Still …
One of the things that’s proven helpful is to go to Youtube or search new or old movies and read their tag lines and pitches. See, I don’t even know if they are one and the same (tag lines and pitches). The other thing I’ve done is search through books listed on Amazon.com. Most don’t have them, but ever so often I’ll find one. Sometimes, I’ve been lucky enough to go to a writer’s website and find a pitch of their newest book, along with a “purchase/buy me” button. If they’ve done a good job with their pitch, you’re tempted to make the purchase.
Publishers will also want a synopsis of your book written like a book jacket. I’ve experienced different requests from several publishers. Some want your synopsis to be no more than 200 words. Others want your synopsis to give the full details of your book, including any surprises, and the ending.
When I first ran across a request like this, I didn’t want to comply. Something told me to go over my notes that I’d taken when I listened to Steve Laube’s audio on book proposals. During his lecture, he stresses somewhere along the way that publishers don’t want to bank money on a book that they later find out sags in the middle and doesn’t deliver in the end. Wow!
So, like it or not, we must give away the goods when requested to provide a synopsis in this fashion. Bite your inner lip my dear colleagues and give up the goods of your book.
The other thing that really gets me about book proposals is the Competitive/Market Analysis request. My first reaction to this request was: “How would I know. I’ve been busy writing the book. I have no blasted idea who will read it. And I sure don’t know a thing about the marketing side of the writing business. How’s a newbie to know such things anyway?” Straightforward answer to that snippy attitude: I BETTER FIND OUT!!
We must do our homework. If you hate research, you will utterly despise it before it’s all said and done.
It’s not like in the old days (40 years ago) when editors/literary agents and publishers marketed your book for you. They are no longer in the business of carrying the brunt of that load anymore. It’s up to us to do most of the heavy lifting. Unless, however, you’ve already made a name for yourself (i.e., you’re a Brett Farve, a Tom Brady, a Morgan Freeman, a Beyonce Knowles, a Serena Williams).
Until our names are in lights, we will need to dig in and find creative ways to market our books. To do that, we must have an idea who will read our books and how we plan to attract readers. Like you, I’m stuck in the mud on this one, always trying to determine who I wrote this book for and who might be my unlikely reader. Ask yourself this: How will I attract readers to my book? In a sea of writers, how do I get noticed?
To overcome the first part of this hurdle, I began asking myself, “What book have I read that influenced the writing of my novel?” Rarely is there one influence. List them, and include their authors. Then choose two or three that were the most influential.
Bingo!
Believe it or not, you have just fulfilled the request of the Competitive Analysis of your book proposal.
The Market Analysis side of the question has many components. I tossed and turned for nights over this one. Then one day during my search on the internet I ran across a term I hadn’t heard before: “swag bags.” Huh? When I realized what this was, my mind wouldn’t shut off. You can offer swag bags in so many different ways: as gifts for being one of the first ten purchasers of your book; as a gift for persuading someone else (or persuading two or three people) to buy your book; as a gift with the purchase of your book. Use your imagination. Look up swag bags on the internet. The pictures alone generate ideas.
The other thing I thought of regarding marketing is: purchasing those magnetic signs for my car with the picture of my book on it. I really, really, really like that idea. I don’t care if you borrow these ideas. You don’t write like me, and I don’t write like you. Dismiss the myth. There’s nothing to fear. Some people will like my book; while others might like yours. There’s enough of a share of the profit to go around. Use any idea I’ve posed here, and expound on it if you can. Do whatever works for you. But remember this, if you don’t write well, it won’t matter. Our books still won’t sell if you don’t put out a good product. It’s best to find a good reputable editor. Lose the fear of sharing ideas. We can learn from each other.
There is so much more I could share, but because I really need to edit my upcoming novel, I must stop here. However, if you have questions, ask away. If you have corrections to what is written here, I’m open to receive them. The only important criteria to your suggestions: Lose the meanness. Exert professionalism. I’m no expert. I’m still learning. But if you’ve read my “About the Author” page, you’re well aware that I’m determined to share all that I’ve learned with you. Hope you do the same.
The business side of writing is forever changing, and we must change with it. It can be a pain in the butt. Lawrence Block once responded to someone who wanted to write a book, “If you want to write fiction, the best thing you can do is take two aspirins, lie down in a dark room, and wait for the feeling to pass.”
Why didn’t I take his advice?
Donna B. Comeaux
Author, Poet