I was asked recently if I write books because I want to be famous. To which I replied, “I’m already famous!” Of course, my fame is all in my mind.
But the question did cause me to ask myself why do I write? There are several answers to this question. I write to quiet the voices in my head. I love the process of crafting a story. I might be obsessed with writing …
When I wrote “Peril in Paradise” in 2004, I queried the manuscript the old-fashioned way. After sending fifty-plus query letters, I finally received a request for the first fifty pages. And, as luck would have it, I landed an agent. She sent my novel to publishers, but alas, all I received were “no thank you” letters. A few editors were polite enough to compliment me on how well I write my villains.
I hung onto that compliment as I wrote “Malice in Mazatlan” and created one of my favorite villains, Sarita Garcia.” I didn’t query this novel, and then my busy life took over, suppressing my creative drive.
You all know how I returned to writing after my son, Derrick, died, and have been blessed to crank out seven more books since those early two novels. I love that I’m still inspired to write books set in my beautiful Mexico. And, of course, writing the Stoneybrook series gives me a chance to bring my son alive as a fictional deputy sheriff. I haven’t queried any of these books, embracing my role as an indie author and happy with my imaginary fame.
I’m sure you have all received emails from AI bots offering to promote your “wonderfully written and highly entertaining” novel. At first, the emails were poorly written and ended up in my junk folder, but they eventually got better. Still, I avoided being sucked into their promise of “rising my novel to the top of the bestsellers list.”
You may remember that I still have a “day job,” which means I’m on the phone a lot with clients. When I receive a call from an unknown number, I always let it go to voicemail. At some point, I listen to my voicemails, which are usually from product vendors or someone trying to sell me something.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a voicemail from a producer for a radio show called “America Tonight with Kate Delaney.” The producer, Chris, had read “Redneck Ranch” and loved it so much that she recommended Kate feature me on the show. All I had to do was call back and schedule a time for Kate to interview me.
So, I did what you all would’ve done: I Googled the name of the radio show, and it came up as a legitimate one. The voicemail suggested I listen to an interview Kate had done with another author, which had increased her sales. The author, interviewed by Kate, also seemed legitimate, so I called Chris back.
Chris knew specific details about “Redneck Ranch” that indicated she’d actually read the book. So, as we chatted for a few minutes, I kept searching the internet for any red flags. Every now and then, I thought I detected that she had a slight accent, one that I couldn’t identify.
The kudos for my book kept coming. A particular favorite was when she said, “I think with the right recognition, ‘Redneck Ranch’ could be picked up and made into a television series.”
Hope springs eternal!
In my delirious state, thinking I could be the next Taylor Sheridan, I agreed to let Chris send an email requesting information.
Remember my “day job?” Well, I’m required to have some serious security software, and when Chris’s email hit my inbox, my laptop lit up with multiple red-flag warnings. And one word jumped off my screen, “SCAM.”
“Chris,” I said, trying to sound calm, “my security software just alerted me that your email is a scam.”
“No, no,” she said. “This is a legitimate opportunity.”
“And how much exactly does this opportunity cost?” I asked.
“We have very reasonable fees—” Chris began, her accent becoming more pronounced.
“I’m not interested in paying your fake radio station any money,” I replied, a definite edge to my tone.
“We are not a—” her Filipino accent clearly discernible now.
“Goodbye, Chris.” I ended the call.
I’m glad I dodged a bullet and didn’t send any money for the fake opportunity, but for a nano-second, I had been on the verge of real fame.
I despise people who play on a person’s hope, since I believe hope is a necessary emotion to navigate life. It’s an integral part of goal setting. As in, I hope I finish writing “Fatal Falls” before our trip to Mesa on Memorial Day weekend, so I can edit the manuscript in glorious sunshine.
So, I’m happy to remain famous in my own mind, setting hopeful writing goals and basking in the glow when a real reader offers kudos for one of my books.
Happy, hopeful writing ~ Ladies
Ladies of Mystery 