4 Words of Advice That Changed My Life

I had a life-changing experience a few weeks ago. 

I was golfing with my dad and our neighbor Mike, and I can’t remember the last time I played so horribly. Unfortunately, this isn’t a one-day phenomenon. I’ve been playing terribly for a few months. My game is off. My tempo, my swing, everything is messed up. Some people call it "getting the yips," but this feels deeper to me. Which of course makes me play even worse. 

I’ve attributed it to several things: I’ve lost weight over the winter, so my center of gravity is off. My surgically repaired (x5) shoulder is looser than it used to be. I am not playing enough. I’m distracted by work. You know, all the usual excuses one makes, especially in the middle of a lousy round of golf. Justifications. 

My dad’s been my coach from day one, so he was giving all kinds of advice — slow down your swing, keep your head down, you’re taking the club back too far — words I’ve heard from him so often I essentially block them out. I was growing more and more frustrated when Mike drove up in his cart.

This is a paraphrase, but it’s damn close to the exact words.

“I’m only going to say one thing, and this comes from my experience as a hitting coach (he’s a brilliant baseball coach, btw). You’re trying too hard. Just take an iron, make contact, and advance the ball. You’re going for it on every shot. We both know you can hit the hell out of the ball, but you’re better off just advancing the ball instead of trying to get it on the green with a fairway wood. Just because you can make the green doesn’t mean you should try.” 

I live with a former baseball player. I’ve heard the adage “homers don’t win the game, singles and doubles do” ad nauseam for 25 years. But I don’t think it truly sunk in to me until Mike pointed it out. I was swinging for the fences on every pitch. And as such, was winding myself up too tight, and missing the ball. 

Mike drove away in his cart. Meekly, I took a six iron, advanced the ball, and a few holes later, started to get back in a groove. I didn’t have a ton of spectacular shots, but I also got to the green, got the ball in the hole, and moved on without too much fuss. I was embarrassed that I was playing this weird game, instead of my usual bombs toward the green, but it worked. 

My dad and I talked extensively about Mike’s comment for the rest of the round. I recognized an intrinsic truth in Mike’s words — I was trying too hard. Daddy pointed out that golfers in general play to the shot they know they can make. For example, I can hit a pitching wedge 100 yards. I know this. But 80% of the time, when I’m at 100 yards and I pull out my P, damn if I don’t leave it short. Just because I CAN hit it 100 yards doesn’t mean I’m going to do it successfully every time. I’m better off moving up a club, taking a 9, and getting it there. 

But do I do that, even knowing that’s the right play? Often times, no. Because damn it, I can hit the freaking P 100 yards. 

Now, apologies, because there’s some technical stuff in there about my equipment choices, which does play a role in my escapade: I didn’t have my clubs with me, and the club I would normally take for that particular shot wasn’t an option, so I was substituting. But… allow me to again draw your attention to one sentence in Mike’s advice.

You’re trying too hard.

Yes. I was. 

Four words. Four words have reframed my entire existence. 

Yes, this brief moment of advice truly helped me reframe my game that day. But it’s also helped me face a few major issues in my life. Once I had this concept in my head, I started looking around at my everyday. I was surprised by the insight it gave me.

I spend my life on afterburner.* I go fast and hard and I expect everyone around me to keep up. I swing for the fences in everything I do, all the time, in every aspect of my life, be it sports, writing, publishing, love. It’s the reason I’ve had the successes I’ve had despite sometimes adverse conditions. It’s also bloody exhausting.

There are a hundred examples I could give, but for brevity’s sake, let’s stick with my job. 

I can write 10,000 words in a day. But just because I can doesn’t mean I do. Thing is, if I don’t, I feel guilty. Even knowing that writing is a marathon, that you succeed not by writing 10k a day but by laying down 500–1000 words EVERY day, I still feel like I’m somehow shirking my responsibility if I don’t hit that crazy goal — which, BTW, like the pitching wedge to the green from 100 yards, I only managed to do occasionally, certainly not every time I touch the keyboard (or wedge).

That lack of word count bleeds into the rest of my day. I skip my yoga or a walk to get a few more words. Dinner isn’t made, laundry isn’t folded. Books aren’t read. So many things that I could accomplish with my day get shunted away because I HAVE to get that massive word count. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

This is not a healthy way to approach a creative life, just like trying to get to the green with every shot isn’t sustainable if I ever want to improve my game.

I think I’ve finally wrapped my head around how I turn my writing day into something that mimics the people I admire — Catherine, of course, John Grisham. They get up, they do their words, and then they go live their lives. I’ve said before I want to emulate this, but it wasn’t until now that I truly understood how to make that work for my supercharged brain.

I know I can rather easily hit that 1,000 words a day goal in a couple of hours of true concentrated work. So I’ve set some new goals for myself, and they include being satisfied with that 1,000 words. Proud of it, even, instead of shaking my head, knowing I can do better. And I’m shooting to get them by noon, so I can then live my life instead of chaining myself to my laptop and guilting myself into writing more. That way, if I want to write more, I can. And if not… so be it. I’ve done my work. 

But the how… I’m going to save swinging for the fences and running on afterburner for the moments it’s actually needed, and spend the rest of my time with the dreaded 6 iron in my hand, swinging gently, and just moving forward. 

We’ll see how this goes. It should be an interesting experiment. 

Have you gotten any great advice lately? Share it with me in the comments!

*Just in case you’re not familiar with this term: An afterburner (or a reheat) is a component present on some jet engines, mostly those used on military supersonic aircraft. Its purpose is to provide an increase in thrust, usually for supersonic flight, takeoff and for combat situations. —Wikipedia

When Art Imitates Life - 2 Recent Crimes To Study

I’m a thriller author, which means I’m slightly more in tune with the dark side of humanity than many of my friends. I spent years researching serial killers, to the point that I never want to write one again, actually. I spent my nights watching Forensic Files, went on ride-alongs with the Nashville Police, read books that curled my toes, studied and talked with F.B.I. profilers, did autopsies. The list is long and varied — suffice it to say, for many years, I lived and breathed crime.

I learned two inalienable truths — nothing I can possibly dream up hasn’t been thought of by a disturbed individual. And the capacity for cruelty and hate is bottomless. 

I’ve moved away from this kind of research in the past few years, simply because I couldn’t stomach it anymore. This is a good thing. My dreams aren’t as terrifying; I don’t spend as much time looking over my shoulder. (Trust me, you spend years in the minds of horrible villains, you get a wee bit paranoid.) I’ve discovered an affinity for stories that explore how tragedy affects normal people and write about that now. I read many more books that are fantasy driven, especially YA, and the ones that are set in the real world are often… nicer, let’s say, than the ones I used to consume.

But there have been two recent crime sprees that captured my attention. Obsessively. 

The first was Mark Anthony Conditt — also known as the Austin Bomber. The most recent was here in my own city, and is really still ongoing — Travis Reinking, who murdered four people and wounded four others in a Waffle House. Reinking was stopped by a citizen hero. Conditt blew himself up. Both men terrorized their respective cities, though Conditt reign lasted longer.

If you are a thriller writer, or interested in true crime, these two cases represent some seriously great multi-agency police work. I admit to taking days of notes on Conditt, trading theories with a friend who lives in Austin, feeling the fear that gripped the city. Reinking - well, truth be told, I'm in a bit of a fog as I write this because like so many Nashvillians, I didn’t sleep last night, knowing he was out there, armed, insane, and clearly being driven by demons few of us can understand. 

We don’t know all the details of either case, the base motivations of the killers, the ramifications for the victims, and for the two cities — so similar in nature, both home to hip music and art communities. But if you’re learning how to write thrillers, or you're interested in true crime, you really should pay attention to them both. You will learn a great deal about all the incredible work our law enforcement officials do when faced with this kind of spree killer. The technical details of both searches are available online, and they are fascinating. Frightening, but fascinating.

In the meantime, we affected by these tragedies will try to heal. It just breaks my heart we have to, yet again. 

How Finding Your Place In The World Makes You A Better Writer

I met a woman recently who personifies everything I want to be when I grow up.

She was effortless. Do you know how hard that is? From her clothes to her hair to her demeanor to her sense of humor, everything she did and said was… effortless. 

Blew. My. Mind.

I mean, I read her, so I know she’s awesome simply through her words, and I will admit, way back when, my debut year, I fan-girled all over her, then gave her my card — why, I’m not sure. Did I think she was going to email me and we’d meet up for drinks? That we’d start exchanging letters or manuscript pages? I have no earthly idea why I did it other than sensing peace emanating from her like a fine perfume, and it attracted me. 

Can we bottle peace as a pheromone? Hmm…

Anyway, as a woman who is now solidly into middle-age, seeing someone so settled within her skin gives me hope. Too often, I still find myself mired in the typical female worries: What will they think of me if I I wear my hair up instead of down; my stomach is bulgy in those pants; oh my God did I actually just SAY that? 

I’m mellowing with age, truly, I am, but I still have a lot of what we now so glumly call social anxiety. Happily, though, I care less about the aspects I have no control over — fitting in, getting people to like me, concern about what people think of me as a person. Obviously I worry about what people think of my work, but not so much about whether they think that I am cool.

My friends think I’m a decent person. My cats think I hung the moon. My husband still digs me. My parents don’t stay up late into the night worrying if I’m going to amount to anything. I have a career I love, a car that’s paid for, and comfortable shoes that look snazzy. I’m not the most stylish creature, but I can pull off a red lip like a champ, and I know what clothes work for my body. I drink plenty of water and get lots of sleep.

Really, can a girl ask for more? 

Well, yes. When you’re settled in who you are, when you have your own point of view of the world, your work will automatically be stronger. Something to aspire to, for sure.  

Have you ever met one of your inspirations? Did you talk to them about how they’ve changed you?

P.S. I apologize for the comment confusion some of you have had. You only have to leave your name to comment. Adding your email address and URL is optional. You can also comment as “Guest.”

How we did the research for THE SIXTH DAY

Having a new book baby out in world is a mixed bag of emotions. It feels a bit like jumping off a cliff with no parachute: sheer excitement coupled with abject terror. Why? Well, because the book is no longer your own. It’s one thing to build a book. It’s something different to have strangers read it.

So let’s talk about building a book. THE SIXTH DAY hit shelves Tuesday, and the research that went into it was astounding. 

For me, writing an international thriller with historical components is sort of like making French onion soup out of apples — in other words, an uphill battle. Or magic. I like the magic analogy better, let’s go with that.

Even though I’m not doing it alone, this magic gets its essence from the minute details. Elizabeth George just did an interview in which she described the moment a piece of her latest book came together for her:

“Seeing the place is really helpful in developing the plot, because if I don’t go, there are things I simply won’t know,” she explains. “For example, for the new book I went to Ludlow, and when I visited the police station, it was closed. There was an intercom and video-camera setup at the building which connected people with the police and emergency services. That became a hugely important plot point in the book.”

For me, physical proximity is the secret behind good research. You can study everything, read all the books, read all the articles, but if you can actually go to the spot you’re writing about, plot points can appear out of the ether. I can give you oodles of moments this has happened to me, book after book. Heck, a trip to Scotland saved WHERE ALL THE DEAD LIE — I had the winter colors all wrong. Trees, grass, flowers, skies… How embarrassing would that have been?

I know travel isn’t always possible, so at the very least, a few hours spent on Google Earth will go a long way. You won’t get all five senses (and trust me, how someplace smells creates all kinds of interesting ideas), but you’ll at least see what people wear, what it looks like when it rains, etc.

And the facts you see in the novel are fractional compared to the work done on the back end. There’s a reason we call research an iceberg, after all. You only see the tip. I’ve literally spent days on certain topics in order to put one single fact into the manuscript. I like to joke I get a Ph.D. on every book, but it really is true. 

I have a somewhat organized way of researching my novels.

If I’m working on research online, as I’m going deep into a topic, any link that I touch that has any sort of relevance to the book immediately gets bookmarked. If I know it’s relevant, it goes into its own folder in Evernote. If it’s possibly relevant, it goes to Instapaper, and then gets shuttled into Evernote if I find anything worthwhile. I also sign up for newsletters, subscribe to online magazines, join Facebook groups. Anything that will allow me hands-on experience with the people who actually do the work or live in the world I’m researching. (Dark Web for hacking info, anyone? 😈)

Once the research is conducted, I usually print it out and put it in a huge Circa binder. That way, if the internet crashes, I have my research. And of course, let’s not forget the books — easy to work with there, just slap a Post-it note and write it up in my notebook. Same for movies and television shows related to the story. I have two massive bookshelves in my office that cover everything from the occult to FBI to falconry. I call it the database.

For THE SIXTH DAY, I have over 200 individual links in my Evernote. From hacking to falcons to the Voynich to hemophilia to LSD, they are a roadmap of memories to building a book. I love that record, too. It’s as evocative as a playlist for me. I can remember the exact moment I saw a certain story and what idea it triggered — and often, I make a note about that in my files, for posterity. 

Hopefully, I get it all right. But as huge as these novels are, sometimes I blow it. A fact gets reversed, or the source material is incorrect, or I just plain read and interpret wrong. Hopefully, those mistakes are minimal. Because ugh! Fingers crossed it’s all perfect in this one.

I hope you enjoy all the crazy research that went into THE SIXTH DAY. Catherine and I had a blast with it. 

Now, on to book 6! (It only has 130 links bookmarked so far…)

Writers, how do you do your research? And Readers, is there anything that drives you crazy on research-heavy books?  What do you love to see?

What Are You Reading This Weekend??

Welcome to another Friday, my friends! What are you reading this weekend?

Share the next book on your TBR in the comments!