Merry Christmas to all . . .



It’s been a while since I last posted. If you believe the old adage that no news is good news, there’s this bridge in Brooklyn I’d like to sell you. So far two literary agents have passed on Recurring. I think I know why. I have to rework the beginning of the book, which I can now see reads far too passively and doesn’t match the intensity level I have created throughout the rest of the manuscript. Second, I can’t write a decent query letter and/or synopsis to save my life.

There are different approaches when attempting to condense a book into one or two pages. I always take the high road and give the agent the crux of the story – in addition to revealing the ending. No surprises. I pull no punches. She or he knows exactly where the tale is taking her/him, and is better able to judge whether or not they are interested enough to see the entire manuscript. In my mind, it’s only fair. From all the advice I’ve gotten from fellow writers and through conducting extensive internet research, I’ve learned this is exactly the WRONG way to go if you’re seeking an agent. You have to keep them wanting more. You also have to whet their literary appetites enough to request the rest of the book. Logically, it doesn’t make sense to me. But humans are funny animals and I guess building up the suspense and leaving an agent hanging, or maybe (hopefully) even begging for more, makes a whole lot of sense.

Okay. I’ll play the fr*****g game. I don’t care much for it, but I’ll play.

I’m still mapping out the Boardwalk Psychic series, and those will be fun reads, but not as light and humorous as the Jersey Girl cozies. Actually, these books are more on the serious side, despite my protagonist’s occupation, which most people consider to be a complete scam. Hey, at least I’m writing!


If anyone is looking for a great non-fiction read over the holidays, I suggest you give Educated: A Memoir a try. I read it in one day. Now whenever I’m tempted to blame my parents for screwing up my youth, I thank God I had Marie and Joe Lamon to raise me, rather than author Tara Westover’s parents. I guess we all have to overcome our childhoods, don’t we?

Have a great Christmas all!


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