Guest Blogger ~ Laura Kelly Robb

~ patyjag ~ 1 Comment

The Audiobook Experience

Like nearly every writer I know, I proof my manuscripts by reading them out loud. With my finger poised over the delete button, I find unnecessary words that make a sentence sticky and verb tenses that don’t line up. The process turns up lines of dialogue that sound stilted, as well as gaps in meaning—those leaps in logic a reader would be unable to make without additional information.

My latest mystery, The Laguna Shores Research Club, published by TouchPoint Press in 2022, underwent the same process. The trade paperback version, further copyedited by editor Kimberly Coghlan, was praised for the readability of the prose. I was delighted when TouchPoint sold the audio rights to Tantor Media. The audiobook became available November 2023.

Listening to the audiobook taught me a few things about my editing process.  Something happens when one’s writing becomes performed sound. The story gets a new layer. All the characters gain an additional aspect through the voice the narrator chooses for each one. For instance, the character of the deceased friend, Billie, acquired a West Virginia accent, done very well by the narrator, Amanda Friday.  I had written Billie as having a slight drawl, but I meant only to alert the reader to the fact that she wasn’t a native of Washington, D.C. In Amanda’s narration, however, Billie’s soft, slow pronunciation serves to make her more vulnerable. When I first heard the full recording, Billie’s demise struck me as more tragic than in the written version.

During the process of proofing the manuscript out loud, I had not considered what a performer might add. Knowing what I know now, my instinct will be to give a potential audiobook creator more material to work with—more accents, more quirks of speech, or more variations of disposition that bubble up into the dialogue.

Another benefit that a recording can wring from the written word is to highlight the pacing. Feedback I received from some listeners pointed out that the plot began to gallop in the last quarter of the book and the ending left them breathless. Amanda anticipated the change in the rhythm of the story by speaking in the early chapters in a measured tone.  She saved her variations in intonation for the critical plot developments and final revelations. If I had realized the effect her techniques could have, I think I would have begun the suspense earlier in the book by spreading out the revelations and suspicions of the main character. I’ll be more likely in the future to take the listener as well as the reader into consideration as I structure a plot.

I found one downside to a vocal performance to be the treatment of the dialogue tags. Since we generally read faster than we listen, some repetition in a text is glossed over by the efficient reader. I often included dialogue tags for clarity on the assumption a few extra tags would not tire out most readers. In the audio, however, unnecessary repetitions can weigh down the performance. The narrator often indicates who is speaking through variations in tone and pitch, and the “he said” and “she said” tags become tiresome.  In future work, I will be more attuned to the tags and try to edit them more closely.

As audiobooks become more popular, writers may want to consider producing their own audio versions of their work. I am not familiar with the best ways to proceed, but I know more and more people are wading in. If you are interested, here’s my Mystery and Suspense magazine interview with Amanda Friday about the ins and outs of narration and her work with indie authors.

The Laguna Shores Research Club by Laura Kelly Robb

(ISBN 9781956851311; 328 pp, trade paperback)

Laila Harrow knows the best way to track down anything—or anybody—is to ask Billie Farmer. As the brains of the Laguna Shores Research Club, Billie teaches fellow members how to reach into the ether and pluck out facts.

Counting on Billie’s guidance, Laila promises the St. Augustine Museum a catalogue of Florida Highwaymen paintings that will catapult her standing in the art world. But when Billie dies suddenly, Laila is forced to pull herself out of the darkness and follow the facts. Her investigation turns up up one fact too many: Laila is at the center of a dangerous game.

You can find the audiobook of The Laguna Shores Research Club on Audiobooks.com, AudiobooksNow.com, GooglePlay, LibroFM.com, the free site that asks listeners to post reviews, AudioFreebies.com,and Audible, as well as other platforms such as Spotify. If you have time to take a listen, I would love to hear your thoughts. Reach me at Laura@LauraKellyRobb.com

After studying at the University of Toronto, Laura taught for five years in Spain. Returning to Seattle, she completed a three-week fiction class at Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and published short stories for Foliate Oak, The Nassau Review, and on the RTVE show, Nómadas. She is a member of the Mystery Writers of America. The Laguna Shores Research Club is her second novel.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.laurakellyrobb.com/

X: @LauraKellyRobb

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Adventures in Anthology-Land

~ janispattersonmysteries ~ 3 Comments


by Janis Patterson


I like the anthology format – a short (ca 20K words) length which is appealing to today’s sound-bite sensibilities, several authors, which means several different stories, several different viewpoints, several different styles even if written around the same theme. This broadens the target audience and exposes every one of the contributors to readers they might not otherwise have reached.


On top of my standalone releases I do two Regency-set romance anthologies every year – one with a summer theme and one set at Christmas. Great experience, great publisher, good financial returns – everything needed to give me a totally overblown opinion of my own knowledge and powers.


At an informal gathering of some long-time (multiple decades) writer friends (all working professionals) we were talking about the market and what we could do to improve our sales. Suddenly struck with an attack of the stupids, I suggested “Why don’t we do an anthology ourselves? A mystery anthology?” (Yes, I have seen all the Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland movies where someone always cries, “Hey! We’ve got a barn… why don’t we put on a show?”)


After a lot of chatter and very little good sense, we decided to peg our anthology to underserved holidays. I mean, who needs another Christmas or Valentine’s Day anthology? Who has even seen a Labor Day or Memorial Day or St. Swithin’s Day anthology? It’s practically a virgin field.


We decided to start with July Fourth, each of us writing a story about our choice of the various wars that have defended our freedoms. I – for some unknown and unfathomable reason – chose World War I, about which I knew next to nothing. Now I know a lot, much more than is needed for a 20,000 word novella, but that’s the way things go.


Fortunately, as all of us are long-time professionals, all skilled in the mystery genre, coming up with the ideas and actually writing the stories were not difficult at all. What drew us all up short was the non-writing stuff.
Who is going to do the formatting? We all have different formatters, or do it ourselves. What about covers? Same thing. But those were small problems, easily handled.


It was the business side that drew us up short. Now we have all self-published with varying degrees of success, so the mechanical part didn’t faze us, but the financial part did. The vendors only take one name and social security number, so whomever we used would get stuck with the tax bill. There are ways around that, with a portion of the buy-in to be set aside to recompense that person, but it seemed dreadfully complicated. None of us are particular mathematical geniuses (genii?) so through the kind generosity of several other writers we got names of a couple of companies that did fee-splitting, which relieved our minds immensely. The only sad thing is, by the time we got this far it is much too late to get the July Fourth book release on track for a proper pre-release. The only choices we had were to rush it through and sell a less-than-ideal product or put it off a year so we could give it the professional send off – and offer our readers a professional product.


So what did we do? Of course none of us could face putting out a less-than-professional product, so it should be ready for pre-order next June. You expected something different? Of course, that left the question of what to do between now and then… go back to our individual projects after making a release schedule for the July Fourth anthology? Take a much-needed break from writing at all?


Hey, people, we’re writers. What on earth would make you think we would do anything so sensible?
The new anthology is titled Bloody New Year! and is centered on New Year’s Eve/Day. It will be ready for pre-order 15 November. Don’t forget to get your copy!

Learning and Sharing

~ patyjag ~ 3 Comments

I have always been someone who likes to learn. In school even if I didn’t have homework, I would bring home a book from a subject I liked and read the parts in the book that I was most interested in. It was usually either my history book or my geography book. I loved learning about other cultures and areas of the world.

As an adult, I still am interested in those things and have used my interest in the local Native American tribes to share their customs and beliefs and to show they are still a strong people who continue to learn and keep their heritage alive.

Trips I’ve taken have ended up adding more locales and cultures into my books. I like that I can share what I learn with my readers.

In the Shandra Higheagle mysteries, my main character, Shandra Higheagle, is a potter. She uses clay from the mountain where she lives and purifies it to make a quality clay to make her vases out of. I spent an afternoon, learning about the process from an actual potter. I loved the idea of having a character who is part Native American using clay she digs up, cleans, and transforms into beautiful pieces of art. The process is talked about in a couple of the books.

Because I have Indigenous characters in my three mystery series, I try to put in bits about their culture that shows who they are and how their people came to be strong, but since I’m not Native American, I do my best to show and not tell, since it isn’t my culture. I have readers wanting more of the culture, but I only put in what I fell comfortable revealing.

I signed up to learn to make pine needle baskets from a Paiute Elder. Beverly Beers is a fun instructor. She gave us what we needed to know to start and then went around instructing each of us. I started out misinterpreting her instructions and ended up with a larger hole than it was supposed to be. She chuckled and said, “You have made your own pattern.” Which was a kind way of saying I didn’t follow the instructions. 😉

As I sat in the room with the other participants and we all were engrossed in what we were doing a peace came over me that felt good. Stitching each stitch to bind the needles together and adding each new bundle of needles was calming.

I don’t know if it was the tactile closeness to the needles and nature, or the rhythmic stitching, but it felt right and welcome.

Now I’m not saying my hands didn’t start aching from holding the needles tight to put the stitches in, but it was a good ache, if that makes sense. I knew that I was making something interesting and I thought of places I could go to get my own pine needles to try a basket on my own.

I also thought of my character in the Spotted Pony Casino mysteries. She’s a disable veteran who is head of the casino security. She has tragedy in her past and upheaval in her present. She could use a hobby that would perhaps put all her troubles to the back of her mind for short periods of time. As I sat there binding the rows of needles together, I realized this would be a good hobby for Dela. Her friend Rosie, a Umatilla tribal member, could show her how to make pine needle baskets. Dela would enjoy the process, and it would then give her an excuse to go into the Blue Mountains to look for pine needles. While there she could come across an abandoned cabin she’d visited once before and found a journal from the man she believes is her father.

It’s amazing how when your hands are busy and your mind is free your imagination can run amuck and add a secondary plot line to a story. 😉

I will not only share the art of making a pine needle basket, I’ll also move my story along and bring Dela closer to learning the truth about her father. Maybe.

Rejected! (A Fact of Life)

~ Margaret Lucke ~ 6 Comments

by Margaret Lucke

The other day I received word that a short story I’ve written has been turned down by the publication I submitted it to. A disappointment for sure, but I like the story, and I’m confident I’ll find a home for it. 

In the earliest days of my writing career, I read a biography of the iconic author F. Scott Fitzgerald. It mentioned that Fitzgerald received 287 rejections before he ever sold a word. He papered his bedroom walls with them. This may not be the exact figure, but it’s close, and it’s the number that sticks in my mind. 

Let’s face it, rejection is a fact of life for writers. If we let it discourage us, pretty soon we’d be writing nothing but grocery lists.

Sometimes it’s hard to accept that no means no, straight and simple. When we receive a rejection letter, we try to read between the lines. Was my story rejected because it’s awful and I’m a terrible person who should never set my fingers on a pen or a keyboard again? Of course not, though with my first few rejections it was easy to read them this way. But there are lots of reasons why rejection can happen. Maybe the editor was rejecting everything on the day she read my story because a headache or a fight with her boyfriend had put her in a foul mood. Maybe my story was the twelfth one she’d read that week to feature a four-foot-high green-haired vampire as the detective and she was weary of concept by the time she got to mine.

Being on my way to assembling my own collection of rejection slips, I took heart from this. If a literary icon like Fitzgerald could be rejected that often, and persevere and succeed, then so could I.

I’ve discovered that there are hierarchies of rejection, and I’ve received them at every level. At the bottom of the list is silence. After you submit your work, you wait …and wait  … and wait … for a reply, but you never receive one. Apparently the editor or agent you sent it to is too busy to say a simple no and assumes that if several months go by and you haven’t heard from them, you’ll figure out that they’re not interested. This is rude, in my opinion, but it has become all-too-common practice in today’s publishing world. 

Next comes the basic form letter that says, “We regret that your submission does not meet our present needs.” Maybe that’s true, or maybe the publisher words it that way because it sounds slightly better than “Are you kidding? You were really thinking we’d ever publish something this terrible?” 

Somewhat better is the form letter with the electronic equivalent of a handwritten scribble — the words “thank you” or, even better, a personal note.

At the fourth level is an invitation to submit something else “Try us again.”

If I’m really lucky I’ll achieve the fifth level, getting a comment that refers to details in the story so I know someone actually read it.

At the top of the pyramid is the personal letter so glowing and complimentary I have to read it twice to realize they’ve rejected me. Though I’ve never received one as flattering as this legendary rejection, purportedly sent to a would-be contributor by the China Economic Review:

“We have read your manuscript with boundless delight. If we were to publish your paper it would be impossible for us to publish any work of a lower standard. And, as it is unthinkable that, in the next thousand years, we shall see its equal, we are, to our regret, compelled to return your divine composition, and to beg you to overlook our short sight and timidity.”

At the other extreme, I’ve also never received rejections as chilling as these  letters, cited by novelist Lawrence Block in one of his Writer’s Digest fiction-writing columns years ago. (Note: They weren’t addressed to him; they were examples provided by publishing industry sources.) The first was brief and to the point:

“I regret that I must return the enclosed shipment of paper as unsatisfactory. Someone has spoiled it by typing gibberish on every single sheet.”

The second provided detailed instructions to the writer, who had sent a literary agent a novel that was apparently a vicious racist screed:

“I suggest you take the following steps with regard to your manuscript.  1) Go out in the back yard and dig a hole several feet deep.  2) Place your manuscript at the bottom of the hole.  3) Fill in the hole and firm the soil in place.  4) Do not plant anything intended for human consumption in that portion of your garden for at least seven years.”

These make the standard form letter look good, don’t you think?

It’s time to send that turned-down tale of mine to the next market on my list.

Driving My Novel by Heather Haven

~ Heather Haven ~ 8 Comments

I started a new novel a few weeks ago, Cleopatra Slept here, Book 11 of the Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries. All enthusiastic, I got off to a rip-roaring start, only to peter out several days later. I found any excuse not to sit down and write, some of them pretty lame. Watching the leaves grow on a rosebush is not a valid excuse. Neither is watching the new season of Bridgerton, although the costumes are fantastic and there is a lot of huggy-poo-kissie-face. But still, not a good enough reason to put off my work. So, I called myself on it and found, as usual, I was in a stall because I was on the wrong road.

I should be used to this. I am directionally challenged. I remember back in ’86, when my husband and I packed up everything we owned, including two reluctant cats, and headed from New Jersey to California. It was December 14th. Chilly weather, but drivable. Naturally, the car hitch to the truck didn’t work. As it was a Sunday and Avis Rent-a-Truck was closed, we decided he would drive the truck (alone) and I would lead the way driving the car (with the two cats). I was the leader because I was in charge of the Trip Tik, an involved layout of driving instructions from Triple A, before the internet was a going concern. I think I mentioned I am directionally challenged. That was the day we found out. December 14, 1986.

Instead of heading west and south to Texas, I managed to head us northwest, even with directions. We discovered this error about 9 hours later, 5 miles to the gallon, during a blizzard. Divorces have been caused by less. Norm became suspicious about the blizzard and not seeing any signs for Texas. He honked me over to the side of the road where reality hit. Lake Erie was in view.

Near the border of Canada, we crashed for the night at a Motel 6 when it really was 6 bucks. I will not go into the discussion about me leading us closer to Lake Erie than we had ever been before or since, but sufficeth it to say I gave up my rights to the Trip Tik or any other directional leadings in the future. But at least my husband was still talking to me, even if it was through tight lips. The cats were not talking to me, so it was a long night, blizzard and all. A week later we arrived in California, no thanks to me.

I allude to this December 14th snafu as it has a direct bearing on my writing.  Metaphorically speaking, I was heading in the wrong direction, about to run into the Lake Erie of writing, a lovely lake I’m sure, but not my destination. Initially, I may not have known that’s what I did to myself, but somewhere in the deep recesses of my soul, Life’s Trip Tik did. It took a while because I didn’t have a snow-covered, tight-lipped husband standing over me with flames shooting from his mouth, but eventually, I got the message. I had gone north when I should have gone south.

This is particularly important with book 11, Cleopatra Slept Here. I will elucidate. Book 9, The Drop-Dead Temple of Doom, takes place in Guatemala, the storyline dealing with ancient Mayans, archeology, and what have you. So here I am in book 11 writing a storyline dealing with ancient Egyptians, archeology, and what have you. I knew from the beginning the story had to be as different as possible from book 9 but Laudie, Laudie, Laudie.

Leave it to me to head north when I should be going south. I’d started out with the same scenario as book 9. It was comfortable. Missing person, trip to the pyramids for Lee Alvarez, protagonist; former Navy SEAL husband, Gurn; and she-who-must-be-obeyed mother of Lee, Lila. Really, Heather? It took me a long time to find a U-turn from that road.

After I slept on it, played in my garden, and bought things on the internet I am now returning, what to do hit me. Start the stupid story ANEW. Forget anything you wrote before. Pretend you never wrote book 9. Don’t be influenced by it. Every series writer knows it’s tough not to repeat yourself, but you simply can’t. The readers remember, bless their hearts. And it’s about as close to cheating as you can get. I mean, plagiarizing yourself? How gauche.

And I realized I did want something different in book 11. I wanted the entire Alvarez family together on a ship floating down the Nile. The three mentioned above, but I also wanted Tío, retired chef uncle; brother and IT guru, Richard; his wife, Vicki; their 2-year-old daughter, Steffi; and Lee and Gurn’s 2 cats, Tugger and Baba. Why? Why not. The more, the merrier. But how to accomplish that?

A 2-week vacation! No need to stick in missing people, mishaps, or mysteries in the story. Yet. Just a family vacation laid out as simply as possible, with everything falling into place. This includes free private transportation to Egypt, thanks to Gurn’s pilot buddy who happens to be flying a large plane to Luxor and needs him for a co-pilot. There’s also free lodging on the Blue Nile, a ship with rooms to spare, thanks to the original dig seeking out Cleopatra’s tomb in Alexandria being canceled and most dig members scattering. Gurn’s parents, amateur archeologists, were willing to pay through the nose to be included in this canceled dig but have been persuaded to join a new one, the search for Cleopatra’s mother.

Cleopatra VII, of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony fame, was born in early 69 BC to the ruling Ptolemaic pharaoh Ptolemy XII and an unknown mother, possibly Ptolemy XII’s wife Cleopatra V Tryphaena. But it is not certain. The Dig Director and main benefactor of the original dig decides instead of following the pack in Alexandria trying to locate Celopatra’s tomb, sailing aboard the Blue Nile for Aswan to find out just who the queen’s mom was is the way to go. The Alvarez family decides to join in the search. And all for free!

But nothing is free in this world, not even in fiction. What starts out as a gentle, family-oriented vacation lolling around on the Nile ends up with the Alvarez clan being caught up in a mind-numbing ride of murder, drugs, and other chicanery. The trade of heroin may persist in Egypt, despite efforts by security forces to eliminate it, but something is mightily wrong with the elegant Blue Nile. Who are these strange voices heard in the middle of the night? Why do missing waiters seem to be commonplace aboard this ship?  And what is the secret the elusive captain’s log holds?

Egypt’s strategic location makes it a significant destination and transit point for heroin moving from Asia to Europe, Africa, and the US. But all of this settles in on the Alvarez clan too late to do anything but ride posse on the truth, camel-style.