The Hard Sell

Maureen Carter

I love being a writer. The day Lynne Patrick phoned in 2004 offering a contract with Crème de la Crime was one of the best in my professional life. Before then I’d written four (unpublished) novels over eight long frustrating years and received an impressive pile (in height) of rave rejects. It was a tough time. Trying to forge a new career as a crime writer wasn’t the only reason why I left an assistant editor post at BBC TV news, but it was part of the decision. And though I’d never admit to myself I was failing – by no amount of spin was I succeeding. Before Lynne’s call, I’d reached the point where I was seriously considering throwing in the authorial towel. There were few brick walls left on which to beat my head.

I kept going, not because I felt publication was a given. How arrogant would that be? Even with talent, hard work and an element of luck many thousands of gifted writers are not published. I persisted because I never quite stopped believing in myself, I rarely give up and I wanted it so badly I could taste it.

One of the incentives which sustained me during the hard times (or what I now like to call my apprenticeship years) was an abiding image that one day I’d be in a book shop and see someone browsing the shelves. In my head I’d watch them take down a novel with my name on the spine, read the blurb and take it home – preferably having bought it first.

This image was deeply important, because however much I love writing – I don’t do it for me. I want my detective series to engage and entertain readers; people who feel some sort of connection with the words, the characters, the stories.

This is why on Saturdays I can usually be found lurking with intent round the crime section of a book shop, introducing complete strangers to my work. It’s quite tiring. I don’t sit at a desk. I’m on my feet for five or six hours, approaching people and engaging them in (hopefully) witty conversation about crime fiction. Most readers are happy to talk and managers are more than happy to have an author in store. Have to admit, my first venture was toe-curlingly embarrassing, but I’m a veteran now and enjoy these promotions enormously. I call it, putting your mouth where the money is. And though I never actually ask people outright to buy the books – the message is clear and many do.

As well as spreading the word, it’s an excellent way to meet readers, and I make really useful contacts: detectives, forensic science investigators, psychologists to name just a few. In addition, the lit-gigs as I like to think of them are a great contrast to solitary writing sessions. Writers – as they say – should get out more. I know this when I talk to the furniture, it answers back, and I’m convinced the filing cabinet has an attitude problem.

There is a more serious side: if writing’s hard and getting published is harder – the even greater challenge is gaining readers and becoming a well known author. In other words: making one’s mark in a crowded competitive marketplace. The hard sell is one of several ways I strive to do that. When Lynne Patrick phoned back in 2004, she showed huge faith in my writing – I’d like to pay her back by showing she was right.

By the way…that image, I mentioned? It materialised three or four years ago in a Waterstone’s.  A man took Working Girls from the shelf, read the blurb and took it to the cash desk. I watched from behind a pillar with a huge smile on my face – and a tear in my eye.  

Lynne’s back next week – thanks for having me.  

 

 

 

Comments

[Roy Innes]

Me too, me too. Went to a live theatre performance locally. As a book prop in one of the scenes, a copy of my first crime novel appeared in the hands of the lead character. I pointed that out to as many around me as I could.
Hope you return for future columns.

[Lartonmedia]

It's been nice having you, Maureen. And that's a great final par!