An Unconventional Murder Read Online Free Page A

are
two things going on here. First, of course, you have to have a good idea. If the idea stinks,
nobody will ever buy it no matter how brilliantly you present it. But even if you've come up with
the greatest plot line since Tolstoy, you still have to master the craft of writing. And that means
you must write. And write and write."
    Fontaine added, "And even if your idea stinks, as Arthur so poignantly phrased it, that is
no cause to abandon your effort. Sometimes even a ghastly idea will evolve into a splendid book.
The genesis of my fourth novel was nothing more than a passing curiosity as to why Abraham
Lincoln preferred to wear a stovepipe hat over some other variety. Before my project was
finished, I had discovered an epic tale about the waging of the Civil War in a portion of the
Kansas Territory that was later renamed Colorado."
    "Okay, so let's assume you've got a finished manuscript," Upton said. "You're absolutely
certain it's the next great American novel. What do you do with it? Do you just mail it off to the
first publisher whose name comes to mind and wait at the mailbox for your checks to start
arriving?" He turned toward a few of the CFWA members. "Did any of you have that kind of
luck?"
    "I did," a sultry female voice volunteered. Its owner was a glamorous woman in her late
thirties, with a thick mane of hair that, Upton noted, was currently tinted a fiery red. "I met my
agent in the bar downstairs. Over a very dry martini."
    He laughed and made a sweeping gesture in her direction. "Ladies and gentlemen, meet
the dazzling and beguiling Suzanne Gibbons-Powers, or just GP as some of us call her. She's
published nearly a dozen best-selling novels including, most recently, Chastity , through
Hyperion. She's also an esteemed member of the CFWA Executive Board."
    "Thank you," she cooed.
    "So there you have it," Upton told the crowd. "Sometimes things do happen right
away."
    "Yes, if you're a whore," Fontaine muttered softly.
    Upton whirled, astounded at the comment, but said nothing. He was fairly certain the
audience hadn't heard it.
    Aloud, Fontaine told the audience, "Her story is not typical."
    "Oh, there's nothing typical about GP," Upton said. "Let's talk about agents.
Royce?"
    Taking his cue, Fontaine seized possession of the podium. "There are those who contend
that a beginning writer must find an agent in order to publish anything of any consequence.
Others will assure you just as confidently that you should sidestep the agency process and market
your materials directly to a publisher, especially in these days of the Internet. I say it depends
upon the market. This is a key point. You must study the market. If you're writing a
romance novel, then you must read romance novels, scores of them, of every style and manner."
He added with a grimace, "Assuming you can stand that particular genre."
    Upton stirred peevishly, but didn't speak.
    "Studying the market doesn't mean you can copy what you see in the bookstores and call
it your own," Fontaine continued. "That would amount to plagiarism, which is a cardinal sin for
any author. You must also follow the rules of the genre in which you're writing. For example, as
a writer of historical novels, I am permitted to make reasonable deductions about events or
people, primarily to fill in details that I cannot verify by research. In fact, I encountered that very
problem in writing my most recent novel..."
    Twenty-five minutes later, Fontaine and Upton had finished their prepared remarks.
Upton invited the audience to ask questions.
    "How much do you make if you do sell a book?" a burly man wanted to know.
    "Precious little," Upton answered. "Other than the advance, the author only receives
royalties after the book sells enough copies to cover the publishing costs."
    " If it sells enough copies to cover the costs," Royce added. "Only a very few of
us are successful enough to have the luxury of writing full time."
    "For the rest of us plodders, that means keep your day