Please welcome mystery author E. E. Williams to the blog
today…
The Mystery of
Writing
It took me 25 years to write my first mystery novel, “Tears
in the Rain,” so titled after the famous line uttered in the movie Blade
Runner. It took another 17 years to write the second book, “Tears
of God,” and another five to complete the third, “My
Grave Is Deep,” which was published on Amazon.com
last year. All three feature amateur detective, Noah Greene, who sacrifices
everything dear to him to follow a dream of becoming a private investigator.
Why it took that long to write that first book is a mystery
in and of itself because from the time my father handed me a book – a thick
tome about a black stallion in the Arabian desert, the name of which has
vanished on the winds of time – and told me to read it, it was my life’s goal
to be an AUTHOR. I put that word in caps because I didn’t just want to write
books. I wanted to be famous, and rich, and so successful John Grisham would
call me for tips.
I had this vision in my head that I would live in an
A-frame house in the Colorado mountains during winter, where I would hunker
down over my typewriter (yeah, that should tell you just how old I am), pecking
out my next bestseller, and then in spring, take the manuscript to my
publisher, drop it off, pick up a fat paycheck and catch a plane for Europe
where my wife and I would travel to ancient cities, and eat at the world’s best
restaurants, and where I’d be recognized and asked to sign autographs for my
adoring fans. I’d return to the states just as the latest book hit No. 1 on
the New York Times bestseller list and do a book tour that
would take me from the East Coast to the West, and sell the movie rights to Ben
Affleck or George Clooney, before returning to Colorado and another winter of
writing.
Oh, I was going to be a star, baby. Excuse me. A STAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then, life happened.
I got married my senior year in college at Kent State. I
graduated with a degree in journalism and got my first job at the Dayton
Journal Herald, now defunct. From there I went to the Miami News,
now defunct. And then the Dallas Times Herald, now defunct. (Yes,
I was a serial newspaper killer.)
It was when I worked at the Miami News that
I decided to get serious about writing the book I always wanted to write – a
mystery. A surprise, that. After reading the book my father gave me, I started
a strict regimen of Sci-Fi novels. I devoured everything written by Arthur C.
Clarke, and Ray Bradbury, and Robert Heinlein, and Ursula K. Le Guin. (Now, of
course, I devour everything written by John Scalzi, James S.A. Corey and Richard
K. Morgan.) I thought if my dream were to ever come true it would be writing
Sci-Fi. But … before I hit the shift key for the first time, I read an Esquire
Magazine piece that stated some of the best writing being done by
novelists was in the mystery genre. They recommended Raymond Chandler and
Dashiell Hammett, Ross Macdonald and John. D. MacDonald.
It was John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee series that I first
picked up. Travis lived on a houseboat, The Busted Flush, and did investigative
jobs for hire. There was a color in each of the book titles. “The Deep Blue
Good-by.” “The Girl In the Plain Brown Wrapper.” “Nightmare in Pink.” “The
Dreadful Lemon Sky.” I was hooked. I devoured all 21 McGee novels like a
starving man. Then chomped down Chandler, followed by Hammett, the other
Macdonald, Robert Parker and James Lee Burke. I was fascinated by the stories
of world-weary detectives overcoming long odds to turn back evil. That was
the kind of book I wanted to write.
And so, I started a book that didn’t even have a title
because Blade Runner was still off in the future. I wanted a
McGee-like amateur hero, someone who loved movies with the same sort of passion
as I did, and who lived in Miami because, well, that’s where I lived.
I dove into the book with gusto, determined to make it a
bestseller. The gusto didn’t last long. I had a family – a wife and young son.
Could I afford to take a risk on writing books, I asked myself. I was good at
newspapering. What if I failed as a novelist? What if I failed my family?
So, I put my energy and focus on writing about sports
stars, and actors, and yes, other novelists. I did it well enough to keep
getting promoted, a velvet fist if there ever was one. I bounced from one paper
to another, – 14 in 42 years – working at some of the country’s biggest and
best, including the New York Daily News, the Cleveland
Plain Dealer, and the Fresno
Bee.
Oh, it wasn’t as if I didn’t work on the book. I’d write
for a day or two, sometimes three, and put it in a drawer and go months before starting
again. By which time, the thread of the plot was lost, requiring a do-over. I
did a lot of do-overs. Then I lost the manuscript in one of
those 14 moves (remember, everything was on paper, not in a computer). Began
again. Moved and lost it again. My wife once threw it out in the trash,
something I prefer to chalk up to as a tragic mistake rather than a comment on
the book’s quality.
The years stacked atop one another and when I looked up, 25
of them had passed. I told myself it was because I had that day job. And yet,
so many of my friends and colleagues were successful novelists – John Scalzi,
one of the Sci-Fi genre’s biggest names, Sheryl Woods, whose romance novels
have been turned into a series on the Hallmark Channel, and John Katzenbach,
who wrote “The Mean Season,” the movie adaptation of which starred Kurt
Russell, and “Hart’s War,” which was turned into a film with Bruce Willis, and
“Just Cause,” which starred Sean Connery – and they all had day jobs just like
me. I was embarrassed by my own inability to do what they’d done. I decided it
was either do what I always dreamed of or stop dreaming.
Eventually, I found the will and discipline to drag “Tears
in the Rain” over the finish line and get it published by a small independent
press … which is now defunct. (I’m sensing a pattern here, do you?)
Stardom, fame, and fortune did not follow.
Still, I loved the characters I’d created and gave it
another go with “Tears of God.” It’s a better book and only took me 17 years to
write.
Stardom, fame, and fortune did not follow.
Nevertheless, I continued to enjoy writing and seeing my
characters grow, so out poured (can something that takes five years really be
described as pouring out?) “My Grave Is Deep.” It is, I think, the best of the
three.
Yes, stardom, fame and fortune did not follow.
Why? It’s something I’ve wondered about. Still wonder if
I’m being honest. Were my friends just lucky, or were they, are they,
better than me? Are all those mystery authors I see – and read – at Barnes
& Noble superior writers? Some are, but in my mind, some aren’t. So, why
are their books lining the shelves and mine aren’t?
It’s something for which I have no answer. I have mostly
accepted that unless Stephen Spielberg is a regular reader of Kevin’s blog, stardom,
fame, and fortune aren’t likely to happen. Ever.
Still, realizing this, I’ve started to write a fourth Noah
Greene mystery. I have but one hope.
That it doesn’t take 25 years to write. Because, you know, death.
E. E. Williams ©2021
E.E. Williams is a former
journalist who worked at some of the country's best and biggest newspapers. A
1971 graduate of Kent State University, he published in 2002 his first Noah
Greene novel, Tears In The Rain. His second novel, Tears of
God, was published in 2014. The third Noah Greene thriller, My
Grave Is Deep, was published last year.
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