Annie Hogsett--On Being a Writer

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Every so often a book comes along that makes you sit up with delight. That's how I felt when I read Annie Hogsett's debut novel in her Somebody's Bound to Wind Up Dead series, TOO LUCKY TO LIVE.  (A sassy girl meets a hot blind guy who's just won 500 million dollars trying to convince a young friend not to gamble!) Annie's writing is so self-assured, her voice so fresh and funny, that I couldn't imagine she'd ever doubted that writing was her path. 

But she did, and here she is to tell you more.

 Before my dream came true.

In the lowest moments of my quest to become a published author—a year before I found my wonderful agent and two years before I came home at last to my fierce and supportive editor and the warm and generous Posse at Poisoned Pen Press—I wrote an essay.

Outside my window on that Wednesday, February 5, 2014, Lake Erie was stone-cold frozen, and I was sitting at the rock bottom of Sad & Rejected. So I wrote my misery into my blog, and, as so often happens, the writing raised me up and set me back on my path.

I titled the post “When a ‘No’ Is a ‘Yes.’” And began it with some words from a favorite poet:

"It may be when we no longer know what to do,

we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go,

we have begun our real journey."

~ Wendell Berry

This is that post.

“In the middle of last week I finally heard from the agent who had been considering the first hundred pages of my novel. She’d been considering it for six months. Actually, it had been lost for four of those six. So for the last two months, her response had been gracious, kind, encouraging. She liked it, it was good, I should not give up. And so on. And now?

No. It was not for her.

In some respects, I was relieved because I don't think I'd ever have the guts to say no to an agent's yes. And based on things she's written online about what she’s looking to represent, my novel did not seem to be a good fit for her. Today's agent really needs to find a good fit. I get that. Therefore, I'd already moved on. About 97% on. 96% maybe. 87%?

What ensued, I can see now, was a mini dark night of the soul.

I had traveled from Ohio to the Rocky Mountains last summer to meet this agent who had judged my entry to be a finalist in the writer's contest for the Crested Butte Writers Conference. I could tell she appreciated a lot of things about the story that I myself think make it special. She'd had a chance to meet me face-to-face in all my charming irresistibility—and still she said no.

Moreover, I'd finally permitted the whole screaming flurry about The State of Traditional Publishing and Publishing In General to penetrate the carapace of my resolve to a) find an agent b) get a publisher c) become a real bunny after all. The odds against that happening—especially that last thing, which is not now nor has it ever been in the purview of publishing— seemed vast. So very vast.

There it was. The freaking abyss.

I fell right on in. I sulked about my lost grail. Wept some over it.  Ate a few—well, maybe six—brownies in its honor. (Good choice, IMHO.) And I felt really, frighteningly, totally, adverbially lost for...I think it's been exactly one week. The questions I kept asking myself were

What am I going to do with myself?  

Who am I if I'm not a writer?  

Wherever will I go? It's too late to take up figure skating.

Then last night I was burrowing through some old emails and I stumbled over the Wendell Berry quote I've posted above. It seemed serendipitously apropos. I put it back in my email signature and this morning it all came into focus for me. At last.

So I'm sharing.

Oh, for Pete's sake! Here's who I am: I'm a writer. I've been a writer since I was eight. Truly, I can't remember when I wasn't one. I'm a writer washing dishes. I'm a writer driving my car. I'm a writer, eating brownies. I'm a writer, most especially, when I'm writing anything at all. And when I'm in gear, fully, physically, word-to-page writing, in that space between Infinity and the keyboard of my laptop? Then? I am a writer as deeply, profoundly, miserably, exaltedly as can ever be. What's more I've been an author since I finished my first of four complete novels in 1997. Fact: Writing is not publishing, it's...um... writing. And letting people read what you write.

Will I ever find an agent? Maybe. Who knows. I haven't given up. Will I ever be published? Oh, maybe. I hope so. Will I ever— and this is the only question that makes the difference to me at the end of all things—have readers? Heck. I have readers. Honey, I have you. Every single reader counts like crazy.

I'm not sure why this feels like such a revelation to me. Maybe, because I'm a prisoner of my time and place like everybody else on this beautiful planet, I believe I actually subconsciously thought I'd have to give it all up if I couldn't sell it. That I equated "real writer" with "best-selling author." There’s my good old "real bunny" problem again. Everybody has one. Let's all make a pact to give that one up and be our own real bunnies all the time.”

I wrote that, and time passed….

It’s been five years since February, 2014 and the third book in my mystery series came out on October 15. I share all this because I believe if you’re a published author, you’ll remember that journey and maybe smile. If you’re a not-yet-published author, you can be raised up, again and again, by realizing the truth and the joy of who you really are. 

DEBS: I was so inspired by this. And so thrilled to have that third novel, THE DEVIL'S OWN GAME, in my hands, a new adventure for one of my favorite mystery-solving couples, Allie Harper and Tom Bennington III!

 The murder is the message

What you don't see is what you get. When a sniper targets a blind man walking along the lagoon of the Cleveland Museum of Art, the bullet is a wake-up call aimed straight for Allie Harper and Tom Bennington, shattering their illusion that the Mondo Mega Jackpot Nightmare is over.

On the day Allie—sassy, lonely, broke—met Tom—smart, hot, blind—he won $500 million trying to show a kid that gambling doesn't pay. Romance—and multiple murders—ensued, along with a new, opulent lifestyle that the couple had never dreamed possible. Then a ruthless man of formidable skills and resources hacked into the security system in their rented 9,000 square-foot lakeside mansion, and they learned just how far someone who begrudges their good fortune would go to destroy them. Now they know the past six months of peace and quiet were the calm before a rising storm of mayhem and revenge.

The new game begins tonight. An old devil. A new devil. And a new case for The T&A Detective Agency. (Yes. They should have put Allie's initial first.) Tom and Allie aren't on the case long before they discover a strong lead that takes them into the heights of Cleveland's upper-crust, where husbands and wives weave webs of betrayal with unfathomable sums of money at the center. As the threats–and murders—multiply, Allie, Tom, and the T&A must fight to beat the devil's own game. Will they get out alive?

Reds and readers, share your recipes for dealing with self-doubt--brownies or otherwise, and welcome Annie!

Annie Hogsett--Moving the 1000 Pound Buddha

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I'm going to save author Annie Hogsett's advice on manuscript revisions to use every time I have to tackle a knotty problem And if her books are half as much fun as this piece, I've discovered a new series to read! 

Here's ANNIE HOGSETT on how to deal with a seemingly insurmountable problem. (Maybe we could apply this to life as well as writing...)

Moving the 1,000 pound Buddha

For anyone who ever wrote a sentence and dreamed it would be carved in stone, “revision” has to be the hardest word. I’m mostly okay with revision. Once my plot is in place and I’ve got someone who looks like he did it but didn’t, and someone else who looks like she didn’t, but did—the gerbils in my chest can settle down. Fact: there are always gerbils, but I can relax a bit, and get down to revising.

For me, revision is the easier part. Sort of. It can never be all smooth sledding because it involves “input from others.” Agents. Editors. Beta readers. Passersby. Whatever. Often even a little voice from the back of your very own head will point you to a line—or a storyline—that you adored and admired, and which is maybe a little…off. Like, for example, you’ve got a big, lovely Buddha in his gallery at the museum. You’ve figured out the halls to and from that gallery, through which you’ve now got characters running round and round— And all, all, all of that, is on the wrong floor. 

Yep. I did that. A  couple of weeks ago. I can use it as an example because I’m over it. Somewhat. Discovering you’ve got your Buddha on the wrong floor, in full view of readers who are bound to notice, is the first moment of the rest of your little nervous breakdown.

For me, there are Five Stages of Revision:

1)    Realization

This one is short and not sweet. It’s that ice block in your soul, when you murmur, “Wait. Gallery 241 is on the second floor?  But I had a map. I had three. Let me look at my maps.”

This leads to… 

2)    Exclamation

This one is easy. Say the first couple of words that spring to mind. Go ahead. Have fun. Be creative. Punctuate them by pounding on your desk. Or your head. Repeat this mantra for as long as it feels helpful. Get up and walk around. Breathe. Sooner or later, you’ll arrive at…

3)    Reexamination

Continue breathing as you gently, but thoroughly, assess the damage. How wide-reaching is this Buddha-On-The-Wrong-Floor problem? Where does it show up? How far into the plot has it reached? What has to be fixed? This phase can also be referred to as Excavation. Maybe you need to call in the heavy equipment. I’ve had a recent occasion to do research on the Komatsu PC300LC. It’s a 77,000-thousand-pound-yellow-toothy-shovel-y-thing. If you’ve got a big problem, I’d recommend the PC300LC. Dig deep.

 4)    Revelation 

Moment of truth. Let’s assume you’ve dug up every bit of fallout from your beautiful, wayward 1,000 pound work of art. You’ve looked at it unflinchingly. You know what you have to do. “Dang!” I said. [Insert  your exclamation of choice. Mine wasn’t “Dang.”] I really do have to move a 1,000 pound Buddha from the first floor to the second floor.” And then I said, “Don’t be a dope, Annie. You only have to move three sentences. Ten, tops.” NOTE: I confess I did not say this next bit in the heat of that moment, but I swear it just now fell out of the sky onto my laptop. I’m going with it. 

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my Buddha.”

5)    Exhalation

You begin to feel okay. Your excavations have actually made some space. Once I get a grip, I usually find that the change is not a big deal. Often it’s for the better. And if it’s a big deal, it’s digital, and I like to write. We look for the joy. We exhale. We move on.

Writers and readers:  I’m sharing a minor glitch, now repaired, from Murder To The Metal, the second of my Somebody’s Bound to Wind Up Dead Mysteries. At a secret meeting of the T&A Detectives (Tom &  Allie, people. Be good.) the detectives are seated at a round table. I had Otis located at both 6 o’clock and 3 o’clock, right up until the final, final, final draft. You?

Mondo Money is a murder magnet. Ten months ago, Allie Harper—smart, feisty, and broke—rescued Tom Bennington—smart, hot, and blind—and his winning $550 million lottery ticket out of a Cleveland crosswalk and into three wild weeks of mayhem, romance…and seven murders. Nothing much has changed. Except. The T&A Detectives—Allie, Tom & Otis—now have their first case. And? The threats are bigger. The adversaries deadlier. The stakes higher. And the pace?  It’s Murder to the Metal.

Here's more about Annie--

“Murder. Mayhem. Romance. Cleveland.” Annie Hogsett has a master’s degree in English literature and spent her first career writing advertising copy—a combination which, in Annie’s opinion, qualifies her for making a bunch of stuff up. Her first published novel, Too Lucky to Live, #1 of her “Somebody’s Bound to Wind Up Dead Mysteries,” was released by Poisoned Pen Press in May 2017. Second in her series, Murder to the Metal, is out now! Annie lives ten yards from Lake Erie in the City of Cleveland with her husband, Bill, and their delinquent cat, Cujo. She has never won a 550-million-dollar lottery jackpot.

DEBS: This was hysterical! Thank you, Annie, for sharing.

REDS and other writers out there, share your revision nightmares! We all have them, right? 

And a REDS winner alert--

Susan is the winner of Marian Stanley's Buried Treasures. Susan , send me your email address at deb at deborahcrombie dot com and I'll pass it on to Marian.