The Writer’s Playbook: The Drummer Boy

By Steven Harms

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As a contributing writer to Killer Nashville Magazine, I’ve been tapping into my career as a professional sports executive to showcase some very personal stories and observations from my time in the business. Each one has been filtered through the lens of utilizing those moments to correlate topics to discuss in the world of writing. 

Here, I’m going to pivot a bit and pluck a different kind of story from my background. It’s about my journey to becoming an author and getting published. My hope is that it serves to inspire, in some way, all those who are trying to break into the business despite its tendency to be a rather difficult and complex undertaking.

Writing is our passion. It’s a creative expression full of dreams and hopes and wants. Success, comes in many forms. For me, I simply wanted to challenge myself to write a novel and get it published through the traditional process. Would I have the chops to succeed? But that question and dream followed something I accomplished that was a precursor; an undertaking that took me down a road I had never traveled.

As a backdrop, I’m a person of faith and have attended church my entire life. In the early 2000s, my wife and I started attending a non-denominational church that, we came to find out, used creative arts at times in its sermons. Specifically, dance and drama in the form of skits to underscore that day’s message. I dabbled in theater in college, but frankly, never stayed with it and moved on with my career following graduation. Apparently, the acting bug never truly left me, and I ended up volunteering to be in some skits at our new church home. I eventually started writing their skits around 2004 to provide the need for “home-grown” drama, which implanted in me the writing bug. 

Fast forward a few years. I can’t tell you the exact moment, or the trigger, or the catalyst that washed over me one day and placed on me a calling to take a stab at being a playwright and write a unique story surrounding the birth of Jesus. If you are a person of faith, chalk that up to the nudging from the holy spirit. If you aren’t, chalk it up to me being a crazy half-baked dreamer.

The inspiration was quite clear and straightforward, though. The seed of the idea was to create a story using songs of the Christmas season to help drive the plot like a traditional musical does and build a compelling story arc that would touch believers and non-believers alike. The story wasn’t what you’re probably thinking. The target audience was very much adult-oriented, with the main character’s life unraveling in some very troubled waters. I also have zero musical talent, making this idea even nuttier. After a few nights of trying unsuccessfully to get it out of my mind, I dove in.

There I was, like we all sometimes do, staring at a blank screen with that heavy mixture of excitement and dread. You think I would’ve researched simple things like how to write a script, what were the dos and don’ts, generally acceptable lengths of scenes, and on and on. Well, I didn’t. I just started.

I landed on something from my childhood in the form of the song “The Little Drummer Boy.” It’s been a favorite of mine, perhaps my most favorite. I gave him a name–Mozel–and filled my head and notes with his backstory and plot line to get him to Bethlehem on the night of the birth. Along the way, literally a hundred characters came to life. Eight traditional Christmas songs were used to help drive the plot. It took me about a year to complete. 

I never told my church I was undertaking this effort. I simply acted on the inspiration I was gifted and wrote the story. I distinctly remember, when it was completed, I said something to God along the lines of, “There. I did it. You asked me to do this, and, well, I did, and it’s now done.” I never held any purposeful intent to ever let it see the light of day. 

Maybe a few weeks rolled by, and then something happened. The head of drama for my church had professional theater experience and was an advocate for utilizing drama as an outreach to the community. She directed some secular plays annually at our church over the years, with most of those targeted at kids and families (think ‘Wizard of Oz’ type shows). She and I became good friends along the way. We connected following a Sunday morning service, or maybe at a church picnic or something, and I casually told her why and what I had written. She wanted to read it and was adamant that I send it to her. This occurred in spring of 2007.

In December 2008, The Little Drummer Boy made its debut on our stage. All in, the cast and crew numbered around 150. We pulled together every discipline a professional theater needs, including volunteer leaders who captained costumes, lighting, sound, choir, music, ushers, parking, and marketing. We paid a local university’s drama department to build sets, leaning into their expertise based on our stage dimensions and back-of-house capabilities. The show ran for five years with four shows during one December weekend annually in 2008-2010, 2012, and 2014. Over 20,000 people attended the performances, some from nearby states who became aware of it through social media marketing. We gifted homeless veterans an entire section of seats each year. We bused them in from shelters in Detroit. They usually numbered about 300 and were the most energetic and grateful group of people I had ever been around. That alone was worth every minute of our collective efforts to bring the production to life. After those seven years, I pulled the plug due to personal burnout, and wanting the show to go out on a high note. 

But something interesting happened in that final year of the show. That same little voice gave me another nudge around October 2014. Having never written a short story, let alone a novel, it told me to write one, anyway. The inspiration was the challenge, but more so, to task myself with embedding moral principles as the undertow theme within a secular book in the mystery/thriller/suspense genres. Two years later, with an edited manuscript completed, I began my search for an agent and landed at the Liza Royce Agency in New York about five months into the process. The first book, Give Place to Wrath, was published in 2017 as the Roger Viceroy Series, with the second one, The Counsel of the Cunning, released in 2021 after a pandemic pause.

While the books have been critically well-met, the sales haven’t done nearly so, which makes me a member of the overwhelming majority of authors in the world. But I press on with determination and confidence, having shifted to a stand-alone story taking shape now for my third book.

As mentioned at the start of this blog, perhaps there is inspiration for you in the telling of my road to being a published author. Mine was a voice that simply wouldn’t go away. 

As I look back, I truly believe becoming the playwright of The Little Drummer Boy was a deep-dive training experience. I had to map it all out as the playwright and producer, ultimately having to devise a business plan and then follow through with the hundreds of action steps to bring the show to life. Yes, it was consuming, but the results outperformed even my most positive projections. The process taught me there are no corners to be cut, that inspirational story ideas, told well and authentically, will capture audiences, that people in your universe of contacts and relationships will help without question, that sticking to a plan produces results, and that you can jump into the great unknown and find your footing because you heeded a calling to do so.

Give it your excellent best effort. There are readers out there just waiting to dive into your book. Happy writing.

Why I Hate Self-Publishing

By Steven Womack

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Some time ago, I gave a talk at the monthly meeting of the Middle Tennessee Chapter of Sisters-In-Crime. A week or so before that, I’d read an installment of Clay Stafford’s writing blog that put forth the proposition that writers should not give their work away. A writer’s work has meaning, Clay wrote. It has value and to give it away for free sends the wrong message to readers and to the world in general.

I’ve known Clay Stafford a good couple of decades now and have always regarded him as a wise and successful friend. When he speaks, I listen—and usually take notes.

This time, however, I had to disagree.

It’s not that I disagree with his notion that a writer’s work has value. It does, even if sometimes it’s only to the writer him/herself. All writers put an enormous amount of work and heart in to getting those words onto a page. But that doesn’t always automatically translate into value, especially value measured in sales/dollars. When there are roughly 2.2 million new books published every year (according to UNESCO), the competition is pretty rough out there and it’s hard to convince an audience that your book has value; in other words, it’s worth reading.

So I put forth the notion—based on my own experience—that the best way to get attention for your book was to give it away. In February, I had my first BookBub Featured Deal and in a four-day period gave away 24,897 eBook copies of the latest installment in my Music City Murders Harry James Denton series, Fade Up From Black. Through the rest of the month, that resulted in over 200,000 page reads. And since Amazon’s policy is to pay page reads on book giveaways if the book’s enrolled in Kindle Unlimited, I made money giving stuff away.

Enough to pay for the BookBub Featured Deal, anyway.

While I’ve given up predicting the future, I feel confident that at least a few of the people who downloaded those nearly 25,000 copies will like the book well enough to actually go out and buy the other installments.

It’s a whole new world out there, marketing-wise. Marketing in the internet age has a  very long tail, and to riff on my old pal Larry Beinhart, sometimes the tail wags the dog.

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After my talk, Clay wrote me a very complimentary note and asked if I’d be interested in writing a monthly column for Killer Nashville Magazine on self-publishing. I was very flattered, but the first obstacle to overcome was my loathing of the term self-publishing. Loathing? Seems kind of harsh. Why would anyone loathe a term like self-publishing, especially since some of the greatest writers in history published their own work? 

Disgusted with his usual publisher, Mark Twain formed a publishing company to publish The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Charles Dickens’s regular publisher showed little interest in A Christmas Carol, so Dickens hired artists and editors and paid for the printing himself. Beatrix Potter literally couldn’t interest anyone in publishing The Tale of Peter Rabbit, so she borrowed the money to print 250 copies. At latest count, there are some 45 million copies of THE TALE OF PETER RABBIT in print. Walt Whitman self-published Leaves of Grass. The rest, as they say, is history.

In our lifetimes, the stories of self-published books that sold gazillions are apocryphal. Amanda Hocking, Andy Weir, Margaret Atwood, John Grisham, Scott Adams… all have, at some point in their careers, published their own work. And let’s not forget that whole Fifty Shades of Grey thing.

So why such distaste for the term?

I confess here that I’m an old guy. I began seriously writing in 1970, fresh out of boarding school and working on my first novel. There was no Internet then, no such thing as an eBook, and everything was old school; no respectable publisher would consider an unrepresented book, so you queried one agent at a time and if they took six months or a year to get back to you, tough noogies. They were the gatekeepers and they made the rules.

Then, like now, it seemed that every sumbitch who knew how to type thought they could be an arthur (a term coined by the wonderful Molly Ivins, when someone introduced me to her as a mystery writer—Great to meet you, we arthurs gotta stick together…)

Then, as now, there were dozens of predators out there preying on the hopes and dreams of aspiring writers. Self-publishing then was a synonym for vanity publishing, and the vanity presses were raking it in from the naïve rubes. Vantage Press, Pageant Press, and Exposition were three leading vanity presses that were, by the 1950s, “publishing” over 100 titles a year each. 

Even I got roped in myself when I paid $400 to have the legendary Scott Meredith Agency read a novel of mine. Meredith, being one smart cookie, had created a whole separate company to sucker in aspiring writers like moi. I got notes back from some office drone, supposedly signed by Meredith, who needless to say, didn’t take me on as a client.

Not one of those books published by a vanity press had a chance of being reviewed by anybody, let alone a respectable press like the New York Times. No bookstore would carry them.

Writers have always been easy pickings for predators. The most egregious case in history was The Famous Writer’s School, founded in 1961 by Bennett Cerf, a Random House editor and regular panelist on the TV show What’s My Line? There isn’t enough space here to go into that con job, but it made millions by paying writers as diverse as Mignon Eberhart, Rod Serling, Bruce Catton, and Faith Baldwin to join their “faculty.” The suckers thought their stuff was being read and critiqued by Rod Serling, when in reality the work was being done by unknown copy editors. There’s not room enough here to really relate the history of this scam, but Google it. It’s an object lesson for us all.

If not self-publishing, then what?

The world of publishing today bears no resemblance to the publishing world I came of age in, and that’s a good thing. I’m already over my word allotment that Clay gave me for this column, so over the next few months (or however long this little adventure goes on), I’m going to talk about these changes and how my own experience in This Crazy Writing Life have shaped me and my career. To me, it’s not self-publishing. Self-publishing means your stuff’s so bad, you’re the only who’ll touch it.

I prefer the term independent publishing. Going forward, I’m going to talk about how we, as writers, can take control of our work and careers, take back the power from the gatekeepers, and become the kinds of writers we want to be, with the kinds of careers and lives we want to have.

This’ll be a journey we’ll share. After all, as Molly Ivins once said: We arthurs gotta stick together…

Zenith Man

By McCracken Poston Jr.

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Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Since the 1999 acquittal of my client Alvin Ridley, an eccentric TV repairman accused of holding his wife captive in a basement for almost three decades before killing her, I knew I had to tell his story.

But there was one element missing—a satisfying ending.

I could easily explain, as I did to the jury, that Virginia Ridley was never held captive by Alvin. I could even show that she was not even murdered. What I could not explain was Alvin, the most difficult and demanding client I ever had as a small-town defense attorney. Why was he so hard to deal with? Before the trial, his entire social circle had consisted of his wife and one close friend, a character who was even odder than Alvin himself. Known as “Salesman Sam,” this pal rode around on his bicycle, pestering people to buy the promotional items he sold from catalogs he carried in his bike basket. He also (annoyingly, to me) often gave Alvin his so-called “expert legal advice,” which often countered and interfered with the legal advice I was giving my client.

After Alvin was acquitted, I continued to help him navigate the world that seemed to thwart him at every turn. We continued to have lunch together every week. Our friendship became important to both of us. But I still couldn’t figure the guy out. Forensic Files, A&E’s American Justice, the front page of the Washington Post, People magazine, NPR’s Snap Judgment, and FujiTV (Japan) all produced the basic outline of Alvin’s story, but none could explain the main character. The quirky TV repairman seemed beyond explanation.

A screenwriter friend wrote our story, and it was acquired by New Line Cinema under my suggested title of “The Zenith Man.” But after five years, it was clear that it was going nowhere. I tried finding co-writers to help write the book of my story, but one by one, each promising effort fell flat. I began to write down episodes from the case, just to preserve the story. I also sharpened the telling of the story in spoken-word, which I usually delivered to small social gatherings where drinking was involved. My friends could tell I was obsessed with it.

Then one day, someone pointed out a book being sold online with the same title that I had shared with New Line Cinema—Zenith Man — about a failed TV repairman accused of locking up his wife for decades. On brief inspection, I could see that it was our story! It changed all our names and location in this short story. What angered me was that it was being touted as original fiction. After my protests, the author of that book later changed her description of it to “inspired by true events.” But I was hurt, feeling like something very personal had been taken away from me. Frustrated at myself, mostly. We were “fair game” —I had been giving the story away!

Around this time, I was working on telling the story again with a podcaster at my undergraduate alma mater, the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. A juror from our trial, who had moved to Alaska to work as a nurse, mentioned to the podcaster that she thought Alvin might be autistic. A lightbulb turned on in my mind. Within weeks, an expert on adult autism evaluated Alvin in Atlanta. The testing showed that he was very much in the autism spectrum.

The diagnosis gave me a new appreciation for the problems that Alvin had struggled with all his life and that had culminated in his murder trial. It also gave me what I had sought for Decades—an ending to my story. I could at last explain Alvin. That others like him could have similar experiences with the justice system in the future spurred me to action.

I met Bonnie Hearn Hill, an accomplished writer and editor, who read my scribblings and convinced me I could write Alvin’s story. She helped me develop a proposal and shared it with her curated short list of agents. That’s how I met Linda Konner, who agreed to represent me as a client. She sent the proposal to Michaela Hamilton, editor-in-chief of Citadel Press at Kensington Publishing Corp., who signed it up. I cannot stress enough the influence of these three women. If I have any success, it will be because of them.

My book contract called for a manuscript of 90,000 words. The problem was, the first draft weighed in at 177,000 words. Bonnie told me firmly but graciously what was working, what wasn’t working, and what should be cut. It was agonizing. We ended up with a lean and clean book of 98,000 words.

My excitement went through the roof when my book went online for presale on several bookseller sites in late May 2023. There it stood online alongside the “other” short story, which was now being given away for free. Soon they were both joined by yet another book, priced at $4.99, entitled “SUMMARY of Zenith Man by McCracken Poston Jr.” There, in 47 pages of A.I. drivel, a lawyer by the name of Rebecca Mitchell saved her client in a generic courtroom depiction of a trial. I was a woman! I went into action, and by the time I got through, the fake book was gone from all the major sites. Later I was told the project came out of Nigeria, in what seemed to be a scam designed to delude some confused or budget-minded purchasers.

Deciding that selling copies of my book was the best revenge, I signed up for Killer Nashville and had some promotional material printed up. I gave it to (or forced it on) everyone I met at the conference. The next day, I was thrilled to see a bump in Zenith Man’s Amazon Sales Rank. I learned that the ASR could fluctuate wildly, even in response to just a few sales, but it served to motivate me. It provided just enough dopamine to keep me going. I continued to drive the presale campaign at every opportunity.

At this writing, the publication date is a few weeks away.

As I continue my ground-level campaign, asking everyone I meet to support my book, I found an unusual sales aid from an unexpected source. Back in 1998, while I was defending Alvin’s case, I tried to get Salesman Sam on my side by buying some of his useless promotional items — cheap personalized pens inscribed with “McCracken Poston, Lawyer.” A gross of them soon arrived, and I quickly realized they were dried up and useless on arrival. Don’t ask me why I saved them. But it turns out, they now serve a purpose.

When I started talking to people about Zenith Man, I offered to give one of these twenty-five-year-old useless dried-up promotional pens to anyone who sent me or showed me their preorder receipt. To my amazement, people love them. After twenty-five years, the pens are finally of good use to me. You never know what can come in handy when you’re promoting your book.

And speaking of promoting, by the time this article is published, Zenith Man: Death, Love, and Redemption in a Georgia Courtroom will be a published book. And the campaign goes on!

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McCracken grew up just across a creek and the state line from Killer Nashville founder Clay Stafford. They frequented the same country store in his hometown of Graysville, Georgia. Poston is a criminal defense lawyer in Georgia and Tennessee. His book, "Zenith Man: Death, Love, and Redemption in a Georgia Courtroom" (Citadel, Hardcover, February 20, 2024), is about one of my cases. His client, failed TV repairman Alvin Ridley, was accused of some terrible things, including murder. We all had him wrong.

When “The End” is Just the Beginning

By Judy Penz Sheluk

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Ten years ago, when I sat down to write my first novel, the thought of self-publishing never crossed my mind. To be fair, times were different then. There was a greater stigma to self-publishing, and vanity presses had (deservedly) earned their reputation as the bottom feeders of the book publishing industry.

As an established freelance journalist and magazine editor, I was also no stranger to seeing my name in print, with bylines in dozens of North American newspapers and magazines. I assumed—wrongly, as it turned out—that my good reputation would help pave the way to a traditional publishing deal. 

It didn’t, and in July 2014, after several (mostly nice) rejections and one offer from a New York City agent to ghost write a book in exchange for a small share of any royalties earned (I turned her down), I signed a contract for The Hanged Man’s Noose, the first book in my Glass Dolphin mystery series. 

I vetted the publisher, an independent press based in Oregon, as well as anyone can prior to submitting. I checked online reviews and ratings of the books in their catalogue, read a handful of titles to ensure they were well edited, then contacted three of their authors who, like me, belonged to Sisters in Crime. Feedback about the publisher was overwhelmingly positive. Quality editing, proofreading, and cover art were all handled in a collaborative manner with the author. Royalties were reported monthly and paid promptly. I was further assured by the publisher’s Mystery Writers of America and International Thriller Writers approved standings.

Despite all that, when it came time to find a home for the first book in my Marketville mystery series, I decided to query elsewhere to make sure all my eggs weren’t in one basket. I’d heard too many tales of authors whose series had been “orphaned” (an industry term meaning the premature cancellation of a contract due to the publisher shuttering its doors or discontinuing the genre). That wasn’t going to happen to me.

Except, it did. Twice. It turned out having multiple baskets didn’t offer the security I thought it might. 

It didn’t come as a huge shock; traditional print media had been declining for years, and my years in the magazine world taught me to read the signs of impending closure. One publisher had systematically begun to release every one of their authors from their contracts. The other had all but stopped communicating, including royalty reports and updates on books-in-progress. By July 2018, both of my series were officially orphaned. 

Few “orphaned” authors find a new home for their existing series, even after months, sometimes years, of trying. Some start over. Some give up. I did neither. Both failed publishers had given me knowledge of the industry. I understood what loomed on my horizon, and a few months prior to being officially orphaned, I’d set up my own imprint, Superior Shores Press. I was ready to take my destiny into my own hands.

I’ve learned a lot since 2018, made a few miscalculations along the way, overcomplicated some things, underestimated others. I’ve also guided a couple of traditionally published authors through their own indie journeys and, at the request of my then-local library, developed a presentation titled Finding Your Path to Publication, which led to a second presentation, Self-Publishing: The Ins & Outs of Going Indie.

Both of those presentations led me to research and write two step-by-step publishing guides in 2023. Finding Your Path to Publication released in May, followed by The Ins & Outs of Going Indie in December. I don’t kid myself. These sorts of niche publications are unlikely to earn me what I like to call “Stephen King money,” but it is my sincere hope that they will help other authors—whether orphaned, published and looking for a change, or still at the querying/getting rejected stage—a place to explore options and opportunities. 

Because authors should help authors. And because sometimes the end is just the beginning. 

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A former journalist and magazine editor, Judy Penz Sheluk is the bestselling author of Finding Your Path to Publication: A Step-by-Step Guide, as well as two mystery series: the Glass Dolphin Mysteries and Marketville Mysteries, both of which have been published in multiple languages. Her short crime fiction appears in several collections, including the Superior Shores Anthologies, which she also edited. Judy has a passion for understanding the ins and outs of all aspects of publishing, and is the founder and owner of Superior Shores Press, which she established in February 2018.

Judy is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, and Crime Writers of Canada, where she served on the Board of Directors for five years, the final two as Chair. She lives in Northern Ontario. Find her at www.judypenzsheluk.com.

Punctuation is Power - Part 5: Are you in business or in hobby?

By Angela K Durden

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Across the board in creative endeavors something interesting is happening. Folks are getting to be about 55 or so, thinking of or are retiring, and getting back into the thing they loved before the kids came along and the bills piled up and their time was not their own in that thing we call Life. 

Whether it is music, writing, sculpture, painting, pottery, dance, and more, you will find many “of an age” mingling with young folks just getting into that creative endeavor. For some, writing a book or two is just a hobby. They don’t really intend to make it a business. Thinking about the bygone golden years of publishing when authors became stars. They dream of their book being:

• rep’d by an agent, 

• sold to one of the Big 4, 

• making the best seller lists, 

• selling like crazy domestically, 

• translated into multiple languages and selling internationally to wild acclaim, 

• made into a movie or two or three. 

Bring on the mailbox money! From your mouth to God’s ears, right?

Well, firstly, the business was never exactly like that. As we learned from the recent Hemingway documentary, his lavish lifestyle was mostly due to having a series of rich wives. Secondly, the old saying “make hay while the sun is shining” applies in this business. Much marketing of personalities went into the making of the myths. Hemingway used his marketing myth to get money for product endorsements. Nothing much has changed there.  

Still, much hard work by many people went into the writing, editing, printing, marketing, distribution, tracking of inventory, and sales of most books. Starting in the late 1980s, though, the book business began to change. Tired of being shut out and stolen from, the age of the Indie Author and Indie Publisher began and has not abated. Technology has made the publishing of a work easy; distribution via print-on-demand methods has made it within the affordable reach of millions. (Marketing of a book is a whole other subject. It is a bugaboo, a thorn in our paws, a never-ending challenge.)

Unfortunately, too many authors, having written a work, tire out and don’t do the necessary boring work of thorough and multiple edits and rewrites. Not only that, they are also unwilling to pay for it, too. Many will not take any advice when it comes to punctuation, sentence structure, flow of the material, etcetera. They see any question as an assault on their baby. 

I want to scream when I hear “Well, I [or my spouse, significant other, best friend, or sibling] have a degree in English and have already edited the book.” Or “My wife edited my book. She has a degree in English. She’ll get her feelings hurt if I let anybody else edit it.” 

Then these authors are not in business. They are in hobby. True, there are some creative outputs that are simply for making the creator happy. Enjoy the process! It is wonderful to have a hobby one enjoys. 

The business of book publishing, though, requires another mindset. Sorry to say, but one may still not see a profit from all that hard work. All business endeavors are a crapshoot. 

I have always had an allegiance to words in whatever form they take. I hate advertising language that reeks of the weasel. Since it has always been a moving target, I detest rigid rules of punctuation for rules’ sake. [See Part 1 of this series]. 

As a writer in many categories (business, children, non-fiction, memoir, humor, and fiction), my goal is to teach and/or entertain but always challenge the reader and tell it well.

As an editor my goal is to make a book the best it can be. One that, when a grandchild finds it on a shelf and reads Grandma’s or Grandpa’s book they will be proud of how good it is, not embarrassed about it. 

As a small publisher it is to bring to life high-quality books the Big 4 will not touch. Blue Room Books has published history, music business memoir, fiction, and more, some not easily categorized. We may or may not make a profit on these, but damn it all, when they go into the world they will be equal to or better than offerings from the big houses. 

So, as asked in Part 4, I ask again: 

Why do you write? 

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Author, editor, publisher, and more: learn about Angela K. Durden here and here and here.