The Book Passage Connection

By Ona Russell
(Paula's note: The following article is by one of my clients, historical mystery author, Ona Russell. Since a number of you have asked about signing at Book Passage, I thought you'd enjoy hearing Ona's take on her interesting experience there last week. Enjoy! -PM)

We are all connected. So Charles Darwin, whose bicentennial is being celebrated worldwide this year, suggests in his theory of evolution. Indeed, a logical outgrowth of Darwin's well-known scientific observations about our common origin is this simple, yet profound idea: we are all connected.

I concur whole-heartedly with this idea having just had a first-hand taste of it at my book-signing this past Valentine's Day at Book Passage in Corte Madera. Now, I must admit that I have more than a passing interest in Darwin. My book, The Natural Selection, is a historical mystery set against the backdrop of the Scopes "monkey" trial, the 1925 legal battle that first put the teaching of evolution to the constitutional test (very briefly, the ACLU instigated the trial to challenge Tennessee's then Butler Law, which forbade the teaching of evolution because it conflicted with the Bible. Sound familiar?) In the story, Sarah Kaufman, a real 1920s Jewish woman whom I've adopted as my fictional sleuth, gets drawn into the investigation of the murder of a college professor. Through a series of events, she travels to the trial and ultimately solves the crime with the help of some of its key players.

With this in mind, consider that I was greeted at this wonderful bookstore by my gracious host, Susan Leipsic, with a mysterious-looking pamphlet in hand. Susan gave me an excited look, and then told me about the document. It was written by her grandfather, Herman Rosenwasser, the only rabbi solicited by Clarence Darrow to testify for the defense at the Scopes trial. Entitled Is Evolution Spiritual?, it was, like that of all the other expert witnesses for the defense, unfortunately never admitted in court. Well, of course I was fascinated. In doing my research for the book, I had never come across his name. Had I done so, I very well might have referred to him, because his words reflect precisely (and elegantly) the point of view that I have Sarah espouse in the book, a view that was typical before the rise of fundamentalism in the 1920s: that evolution and religion could coexist.

This was intriguing enough by itself. But the fact that he was a Jew, a rabbi no less, made the discovery all the more poignant as Sarah, in both this book and the one that begins the series, O'Brien's Desk, struggles with her own Jewish identity. Moreover, Susan informed me that she had only been given the assignment of hosting me the previous evening, that any number of others could have been delegated the job. The odds of everything falling into alignment were, in fact, remote.

Now, one is tempted to attribute such strangely coincidental situations to a mystical power. But on his bicentennial, one might also think of Darwin, of his notion that we are all connected and that somewhere along the path we may meet someone to help us illuminate that truth. Then again, as the good rabbi suggested, it could be a little of both.
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Ona Russell is a historical mystery author and PEN/Faulkner Award nominee for her first Sarah Kaufman series novel, O'Brien's Desk. Her novels can be ordered at bookstores nationwide and at http://www.amazon.com/. You can reach her at onarussell@yahoo.com, or visit her website at http://www.onarussell.com/.

Building Your Platform, Step by Step

Whenever I speak at writers’ conferences, authors often ask me what is meant by the term “platform.” Simply put, your platform is all about you — the experience, background, and expertise you bring to the table, in addition to the wonderful book you’ve written.

The concept of platform is important when selling a book because it’s what the media, especially radio and TV folks, are most interested in when it comes time to set up promotional appearances. I once had a radio producer in New York tell me, “Paula, I don’t give a damn about this author’s book; I want to know about his background and experience. If he doesn’t interest me, his book never will.” This may sound a bit harsh, but it’s all too true in the world of publicity. If you want premium exposure for your book through traditional radio and TV, you are going to be the story.

And it should be a good one. Media producers expect authors to be knowledgeable and experienced in their subject matter, whether the book is non-fiction or fiction. If you have a compelling personal history, experience in the industry you’ve written about, or an interesting angle to bring to the interview, then you’re more likely to get a yes nod from a producer trying to a fill radio or TV time slot. Reporters and producers look for individuals who are unique, compelling, and entertaining as interview subjects. If you’re a celebrity or have notoriety in your field, the pathway will be easier. But if not, you’ve got to develop a platform that will intrigue members of the media if you want to get maximum exposure for your work.

So, how do you go about building your platform? Many authors write about subjects that fascinate them, but they don’t always have expertise in those areas. When this is the case, I recommend the following:

1. Teach or give lectures, presentations, and workshops on the topic, even if it’s one you only know through research.
2. Keep a list of the presentations you give, and include them in your bio.
3. Get testimonials from the organizers and attendees at your talks and print them on all of your promotional material, including your website.
4. If you haven’t yet done so, create a website and a blog for your book and update both regularly with current information.
5. Follow other blogs in your subject area and comment on them. List your website and blog URL when you write comments, and develop relationships with bloggers and blog readers in your subject area.
6. Use your blog posts as starting points for articles that you can then send to established websites, blog sites, and trade publications.
7. Offer to become a guest blogger or reviewer on other sites, and invite experts in your subject area to guest write for your blog and website.
8. Make connections with experts in your subject area and ask them to endorse you and your book.
9. Demonstrate your passion for your subject when you speak about it. Know recent statistics and be able to talk about new research or events relevant to your subject area.
10. Develop an up-to-date curriculum vitae (c.v.) that lists all your accomplishments and achievements and demonstrates how well you know your subject area.

Many authors are lucky to have agents who understand the importance of platform and have helped them develop the items listed above. But self-published authors, or others who don’t have an agent to help them, may need to do some of the development work on their own.

Take a look at your platform and if it needs developing, get going on building it, one step at a time.

Surprise and Delight

My son, Max, and I volunteer every Saturday with the Escondido Humane Society (EHS), where we take care of the rabbits the EHS has placed in local Petco stores as part of an adoption outreach program. Our duties, begun two years ago, include cleaning cages, replenishing hay, kibble, and water, bringing the animals fresh greens, exercising them in an x-pen setup, grooming and interacting with them, and providing information to store visitors interested in adopting.

What began as a volunteer activity to help my son with college applications has become a labor of love for both of us. During the past two years, we’ve cared for over forty rabbits and have seen many of them get adopted. Even though we’re happy when they find forever homes, it’s hard to watch the rabbits go; after weeks of working with them, they inevitably burrow their way into our hearts. But our volunteering has been a wonderful bonding activity for my son and me and has allowed us to give back in a way that sustains our mutual love for animals.

Max and I have developed a rhythm to our volunteer routine; since he’s good with animals, he does most of the bunny handling and grooming. Since I’m more into organizing and chatting, I take care of the trays, hay boxes, and water bowls, and answer potential adopters’ questions.

On a recent volunteer day, I was busy cleaning one of the rabbits’ trays when a mouse scurried out from under a display rack and skittered across the floor in front of me. The sight of the tiny critter motoring so quickly across the linoleum made me laugh out loud. After months of the same routine every Saturday, this little interlude made my day in a fresh and surprising way.

The runaway mouse also got me thinking about the importance of surprise in our writing. An unexpected element, especially one that makes us smile, can infuse new life into a story that has been rolling along on cruise control. This concept is especially true for those of us mired in the middle of novels, where we’ve become bogged down by static plot lines and characters. An unusual event, an atypical action by a character, or even a surprising bit of dialogue, can give us fresh perspective on a storyline and lend renewed interest and enthusiasm to authors and readers alike.

As an author, I love when the characters in a book I’m writing suddenly do or say things that surprise me. This usually occurs when I’m not sure exactly what will happen next in a scene – suddenly, a character will behave in an unexpected way, and it’s so refreshing and unusual that it peaks my interest. Soon, I’m off writing the next few lines, eager to see where the new direction will lead.

I believe that readers, like authors (and volunteers), also love it when we surprise them. So, if you’ve been slogging through the middle of your latest novel, try letting your characters do something unexpected. The unusual twist may be exactly what you need to give yourself – and your readers – a reason to smile.

Finding Opportunity in a Teacup

I recently read Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin's Three Cups of Tea, the fascinating non-fiction account of how Mortenson, a mountain climber and American nurse, came to build fifty-five schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. In one of my favorite parts of the book, Mortenson describes a 1998 talk he gave in a sports shop in Apple Valley, Minnesota, where the store staff was so busy he had to set up the seating -- over a hundred folding chairs -- himself. After weeks of publicity, including posters at a local college, an AM radio morning show interview, and segments in the local papers, he faced an audience of only three people: two store employees and a single customer, who hovered at the back of the room. Though he was dejected at the small showing and exhausted by his continual efforts at fundraising, Mortenson decided to give his talk anyway and began showing slides of K2's infamous summit and the eighteen schools he’d built so far in Pakistan’s remote and impoverished countryside. As he spoke, Mortenson felt a renewed enthusiasm for his work and his devotion to the Pakistani people and gave his all to the presentation, even though his audience was small.

When he finished, the lone customer disappeared, but the two employees approached him. One gave him ten dollars, while the other offered to volunteer his construction skills in Asia. Mortenson thanked them and then, as he picked up the brochures he'd set out on the chairs, he noticed an envelope on the last chair in the last row, where the customer had been sitting. In the envelope, Mortenson found a personal check, made out to his foundation, for twenty thousand dollars.

There is an important lesson here for all authors who initially see very little return on investment for the hours and dollars they spend promoting their books. Although a few lucky ones experience instant success when their books are published, the majority do not. Most writers, especially those who are publishing a book for the first time, can expect months and even years of effort, including building websites, posting on blogsites, giving interviews, sending out contest applications, presenting at speaking engagements, and hosting blog and book tours that don’t pan out to much in sales. And in our recently diminished economy, where consumers are pulling back on their expenditures, the return on an author’s promotional investment is lower than ever.

But, as Mortenson's story reminds us, opportunities exist (and sometimes abound) in every venture we undertake, and bad economy or no, there is always the possibility that a single investment of time and effort will somehow result in some good. Even a book signing with only one or two attendees can turn out to be worthwhile, especially if one of the two people there happens to be one of Oprah's producers, say, or a movie studio executive looking for a new idea for a script. We never know who will see our ads, read about us in a local newspaper article, stumble across our blog, or sit at the back of empty rows of chairs at a bookstore or university talk.

As another famous impoverished author, Henry David Thoreau, once said, "In the long run, we only hit what we aim at." Although the results we seek may not always come as quickly as we'd like, with persistence, patience, and good promotional guidance and execution, they eventually appear – sometimes when we least expect them.

Aim often and high.

Learning to Be Like Water

As the end of the year approaches, it’s time to take a personal inventory of what the year was like – what went well and what didn’t, where we succeeded and where we failed, what brought joy and what brought sorrow, and what we learned from it all. For me, this year was a tumultuous one, filled with highs and lows. The low points had to do with a lot of dental work; the highs revolved around work, writing, and relationships.

The constant joy in my life is my family, and that held true for 2008. My husband and my two children are a never-ending source of love, happiness, and inspiration. At the end of each year with them, I can’t help feeling truly blessed for their presence in my life.

As for my business, I also couldn’t be more blessed. I had the honor of working for some truly great clients this year and am looking forward to continuing my work with many of them – along with some new voices - in 2009.

My writing has also been a source of joy and learning. I am privileged to be part of a creative and talented weekly writing group, and this year I had the honor of meeting some truly amazing writers during an artist residency at the Vermont Studio Center. I discovered the joy of blogging, sold a few articles, and reached the halfway point on my second novel. While I may not have completed as much as I would have liked, the first ten pages won an Editor’s Choice Award at the 2008 SDSU Writers’ Conference, and the remaining pages are shaping up into a presentable first draft.

In 2008, I went back to community college teaching after a ten-year hiatus. Surprisingly, I discovered how much I missed it and was lucky to have a group of students who were a pleasure to work with and taught me more than they’ll ever know.

And on November 4th, I felt tremendous pride in the American people for the ground-breaking change they brought to pass with the election of our first African-American president.

In all, it was a solid year, filled with achievement and wonder.

And now it’s time to look forward to 2009. I’m not big on resolutions, but I do believe in setting goals, even if they’re more generally focused on attitude and direction. For the coming year, I’ve decided to take a lesson from the Tao Te Ching by paying more attention to what is present in my life and learning to practice simplicity, patience, and compassion.

As Lao Tze says in Chapter 8 of the Tao, the roadmap for contentment lies in being like water, which nourishes without trying and is “content with the low places that most people disdain.” Lao Tze also gives some wonderful basic guidelines for daily life:

In dwelling, live close to the ground.

In thinking, keep to the simple.

In conflict, be fair and generous.

In governing, don't try to control.

In work, do what you enjoy.

In family life, be completely present.

When you are content to be simply yourself

and don't compare or compete,

everybody will respect you.

Some wise words to live by in 2009.

Happy New Year!

Beginnings and Endings

Some experts would argue that the most important part of a book is the first sentence. Without a good opening, or hook, as we call it, we authors risk losing our readers right off the bat. But how many books have any of us read where we actually remember the opening line? Or even how the story begins?

For myself, I love a book beginning. When I’m in a bookstore or at the library, I don’t waste time reading the jacket copy on the back of a book. Instead, I toss open the cover and go straight for the first line. If it grabs me, I’ll pick up the book to bring home. But if that first line doesn’t stop me dead in my tracks right there, the book doesn’t stand a chance.

Usually the first line is a precursor to what’s to come in a novel. There is a certain tone to the writing, or the main character speaks with a voice so unique and compelling that we have to turn the page. These are the books that become our favorites, the ones that stay with us through our lifetime as key markers along the paths of our personal development.

We all have a few favorite opening lines. One of mine is the beginning of Barbara Kingsolver’s haunting novel, The Poisonwood Bible, which tells the story of an American preacher, who leads his family to tragedy and death as he descends into madness in the jungles of Africa. The first sentence prophetically reads “Imagine a ruin so strange it must never have happened.”

Another one of my favorites is the opening line to Sena Jeter Naslund’s novel Abundance, which tells the story of Marie Antoinette in the doomed queen’s own voice. “Like everyone, I am born naked,” she states. How can any of us put down a book that begins this way?

And who can forget “Call me Ishmael,” Herman Melville’s famous opening to Moby Dick? Or Humbert Humbert’s painfully obsessed beginning words in Nabokov’s Lolita: “Lolita, love of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.”

Likewise, I am fascinated by the last lines of certain books, especially those that have kept me spellbound for hours and made me loathe to have them end. One of my favorite endings appears in the title piece of Flannery O’Connor’s short story collection, A Good Man is Hard to Find. After brutally murdering all but one member of a Southern family stranded on a country road, a psychopathic killer called The Misfit shoots the opinionated grandmother who, in a moment of redemption, has reached out and touched him after recognizing him as one of her own.

“She would have been a good woman,” The Misfit says to his accomplice, Bobby Lee, “if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”
“Some fun!” Bobby Lee replies.
“Shut up,” The Misfit says, “It’s no real pleasure in life.”

Another favorite ending of mine (this one a bit more lyrical), lies in the final paragraphs of Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It. They read:

Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.
Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.

Recently, I had the pleasure of reading Gil Adamson’s marvelous debut novel, The Outlander. Everything about this book is wonderful, including the suspenseful plot and the unforgettable characters. Most memorable is Mary Boulton, the young widow at the heart of the story. But it’s the novel’s ending that nailed me to my chair (even though I suspected what was coming). Turn away now if you plan to read the book. If not, enjoy the delightful and chilling last words Mary leaves in a note for the lover she’s finally located after a desperate and eerie journey through the woods of Montana:

“Find me.”

Rituals

When my friend, Pam, called to cancel on our movie date tonight, I was glad. Not because I didn’t want to go out with Pam – I relish our nights out, partly because I enjoy her company and partly because we share a love of indie films (something our husbands don’t have much interest in). But tonight I was glad we weren’t getting together because the unexpected block of time became an opportunity to bake holiday cookies with my son, Max.

Baking cookies may not seem like a big deal to some, but to me, it is. That’s because Max is sixteen years old now and between his interests - the homework, driving lessons, basketball and volleyball practices, and flag football games – and my own, there isn’t always a lot of time left for us to spend together.

We had made the dough last night, at Max’s urging. To be honest, with all I have going on with my publicity work and fiction writing, I could skip the whole Christmas-cookie-baking gig. I could skip the tree and the lights and the presents, too. But my kids, who are now fourteen and sixteen-years-old and straddling that gap between adulthood and childhood, won’t let that happen. So, with Max pestering me to pull out the New York Times Cookbook (we love the gingerbread recipe) and even reminding me to let the butter soften before he left for school in the morning (how many teenage boys do that?), the dough was ready to go.

After I hung up the phone with Pam, I called Max into the kitchen and said, “Let’s hit it.” My daughter, Sasha, and husband, Dan, made us promise that they could help decorate when they returned from softball practice, so Max and I were on our own to bake. We put some mood music on the CD player (A Charlie Brown Christmas, one of my all-time favorites), sprinkled the table with flour, pulled the cold dough out of the fridge, and selected Christmas and Hanukkah (for Dan, who is Jewish) cookie cutters from the drawer that only gets opened once every year in December. There were the old favorites – the rusty gingerbread man, the plastic Christmas tree, the rocking horse, the teddy bear, the holiday wreath, the Santa, the dreidel, and the six-pointed Star of David – along with some new ones: a Texas longhorn and a cactus shape that Dan had brought back from a business trip to Dallas this year.

And we baked. I rolled out the dough, and Max positioned the cutters and pressed them down, then peeled the excess dough away and transported the newly cut cookies (the longhorns gave us some trouble) to the new baking sheets the kids gave me for my birthday this year. Max and I shoved the filled trays into the oven and loaded up empty ones, working together in a rhythm based on years of doing the same sprinkling, rolling, and cutting Christmas ritual, on the same kitchen table, since he was a toddler.

We didn’t say much, Max and I, but as we worked together, gathering the loose scraps of dough to press into a ball and roll out again, I held my breath. I know that there won’t be too many more of these times. In two years, my son will be off to college, studying, working, falling in love and, some day, developing his own holiday traditions. But for now, I’ll treasure these stolen moments in the kitchen with flour on our hands, the scent of warm gingerbread in the air, and the fullness of this comforting winter ritual in our hearts.