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July News from Robyn Carr
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One of the questions writers get all the time that they usually have no answer for is "Where do you get your ideas?" In general, most writers aren't real sure. Oh, some have good guesses — from the news, personal experience, from dreams, even from being 'visited' by their characters and instructed as to how the story should unfold. For me, it's usually kind of a magic thing that I neither take for granted nor try too hard to understand. An inkling of some kind comes to me and I wrestle it to the ground, tie it up and examine it more closely. Sometimes I can spin it into something, sometimes I can't.
There are a few books that I know exactly where they came from. Exactly. And one of those is A SUMMER IN SONOMA, the book I almost didn't write.
At first, it was a different book. It happens that I know some real interesting female police officers, which means I know some very fun 'girl cop' stories. Armed with these fantastic stories, I wrote a Girl Cop book. Oh, I was so proud of it—I thought it just plain SANG! Small problem—no one liked it but me. I mean, no one. Including my girl cops, who I think I captured like they were on film.
Like a lot of writers, I have some readers of early drafts who have been carefully selected. I understand there's a label now—they're called Beta Readers, but to me they're ruthlessly honest friends who love books. One of them is Michelle, a brilliant acquisitions librarian with incredibly eclectic reading taste and, it happens, a police officer in the family. (Give a wave or a bow here, Michelle.) I gave her the manuscript and asked her what I'd done wrong because I still liked it.
"I don't think it's going to work," she said. "Too many genres all mixed up in there. Part police procedural, part suspense, part romance, part women's fiction. The really sad thing for me," she said, "is that I love that small sub-plot about Cassie and Walt and if the book goes, I guess they go."
Oh contraire, mon ami!
Cassie is a young woman about to turn thirty who has had nothing but bad luck with men and has given up out of disgust and utter discouragement. Walt is the guy who likes her and who she is, inexplicably drawn to. Problem? Cassie has been thinking khaki pants with sharp creases, clean shaven, with any luck a country club membership. Walt? A hairy, leather clad biker with a naked lady tattoo on his forearm and a great big Harley hog under him. Hmmm. Can't work, right?
I stepped back to my comfort zone, the ensemble cast, the community. I gave Cassie some girlfriends with their own individual set of issues—one has severe money problems, one is tempted to cheat on her husband, and one has health issues serious enough to topple the whole group. I found I had to pay close attention to my daughter and her friends because, while I hate to admit it, it's been a while since I was turning thirty. All the drama of that time of life has evolved into something more steady for me, but I was reminded about how serious it is when it's upon you.
In the end, A SUMMER IN SONOMA became beloved to me. And there's no question—while I might truly enjoy all those cop stories, I know these women better. They're just your average young women, struggling with the stuff of life, the stuff few of us escape. For them, their sense of commitment to each other will be the thing that gets them through. That I understand!
Thank you, Michelle. Your insights always help. This time you handed me a book.
And now I'd like to hand it to the rest of you. Come away with me to A SUMMER IN SONOMA. You'll never want to leave!
Robyn
