{"id":27031,"date":"2015-06-11T07:39:45","date_gmt":"2015-06-11T11:39:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/?p=27031"},"modified":"2015-06-11T07:39:45","modified_gmt":"2015-06-11T11:39:45","slug":"rob-hart-five-things-i-learned-writing-new-yorked","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/2015\/06\/11\/rob-hart-five-things-i-learned-writing-new-yorked\/","title":{"rendered":"Rob Hart: Five Things I Learned Writing New Yorked"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"yDKmpRVdTAWpULfrBQp0_New_Yorked_cover_final-2\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Ashley McKenna is a blunt instrument. Find someone, scare someone, carry something; point him at the job, he gets it done. He generally accepts money upon completion, though a bottle of whiskey works, too — he’s comfortable working on a barter system. It’s not the career he dreamed about (archeologist) but it keeps him comfortable in his ever-changing East Village neighborhood.<\/p>\n

That’s until Chell, the woman he loves, leaves him a voicemail looking for help–a voicemail he gets two hours after her body is found. Ash hunts for her killer with the grace of a wrecking ball, running afoul of a drag queen crime lord and stumbling into a hard-boiled role playing game that might be connected to a hipster turf war.<\/p>\n

Along the way, he’s forced to face the memories of his tumultuous relationship with Chell, his unresolved anger over his father’s death… and the consequences of his own violent tendencies.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO BURN IT DOWN AND START AGAIN<\/h2>\n

I finished the book. Or, I thought I finished the book. It was three years of work and I was done<\/em>. I sent it out and a bunch of agents rejected it, but that\u2019s the game. I wasn\u2019t worried. Then a very cool writer I admire a great deal\u2014a New York Times <\/em>best-seller!\u2014offered to read it.<\/p>\n

And he said I needed a page one rewrite. There were a lot of things he liked, but he also pointed out spots where I lost the plot or dropped the ball. He saw the potential and encouraged me to really take it back to the beginning and rethink it.<\/p>\n

I was devastated. I thought I was ready to move on to the next step. My life was sunshine and butterflies and a fat contract right over the horizon.<\/p>\n

Then I got over myself and rewrote the damn thing. That was the rewrite that won me an agent, and then a deal, and then another deal (ho-ho, we\u2019ll get to that in a second). It\u2019s a better book thanks to that author\u2019s input, and his pushing me to work harder.<\/p>\n

Sometimes the answer you need is not the answer you want, but it\u2019s the answer you\u2019ve got\u2014so you have to put your head down and do the work.<\/p>\n

BAD THINGS HAPPEN AND IT\u2019S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD<\/h2>\n

I signed with a publisher. They loved the book! They loved the pitch for the sequel\u2014which I hadn\u2019t even written yet\u2014and bought that one too! My entire life was thunder!<\/p>\n

They never sent out the advance check. I\u2019m a patient guy, and figured it would be fine. Then I didn\u2019t get edits or a cover. Okay, this is the new face of publishing. They shall move swiftly and surely any day now. At six months out, with nothing in hand, I got scared. And then I got the call: The imprint was closing and canceling my contract. I went from a two book deal to a no book deal.<\/p>\n

Remember how sad I got when I was told I needed a major rewrite? This was apocalyptic. After I got off the phone with my (ex) editor, I went outside and sat on the sidewalk, convinced this was the end of my foray into publishing, and tried to not cry. I know it\u2019s just a book, and this world is full of terrible things, but nothing in my life hurt the way that hurt.<\/p>\n

The next day my wife and I walked down to the hospital to have the first sonogram for our impending snorflebeast. I heard her heartbeat. A little tiny baby heartbeat!<\/p>\n

It\u2019s exactly what I needed at that moment. A reminder that things aren\u2019t so bad. My agent got me back in the game. Publishers even came knocking on our door.<\/p>\n

Sometimes bad shit happens. That doesn\u2019t mean bad shit is always<\/em> going to happen. And sometimes the bad shit turns out to be good shit. Because now I\u2019ve got an even better deal.<\/p>\n

PERSPECTIVE MATTERS<\/h2>\n

Regret is a strong word and I\u2019m not going to use it. But there\u2019s a part of me that feels uneasy, in retrospect, about the inciting incident of New Yorked<\/em>. Ash McKenna\u2019s story is set into motion by the rape and murder of Chell, the woman he loved.<\/p>\n

On one hand, the book is about death and cycles of violence and how to cope with grief without shattering someone\u2019s jaw. On the other hand, the \u201cdead woman as plot motivator\u201d is such a common trope, especially in crime fiction, I\u2019m sure I\u2019ll invite a few unkind comments. I might even deserve a few.<\/p>\n

I understand as a straight white writer dude, there are times where I need to think about my perspective and approach. Still, this is the story I\u2019ve told and I\u2019m proud of it. Chell is stronger than tough-guy, wannabe-PI Ash. I worked hard to get that across. And she\u2019s the one who saves him, even though it takes him years to recognize that it happened.<\/p>\n

This has influenced how I\u2019m approaching future work. New Yorked <\/em>is the start of what I hope will be a five-book series. I\u2019m done with the second (City of Rose<\/em>, coming early 2016 y\u2019all!), and as I\u2019m sketching out the final three entries, I\u2019m staying far away from putting women in peril. I don\u2019t want to be the \u201cviolence against women\u201d guy.<\/p>\n

Because the first book taught me that perspective matters. As a storyteller, you can\u2019t make your reader feel devalued\u2014no matter who your reader is.<\/p>\n

Unless that reader is a Nazi. Nazis are fair game for ridicule.<\/p>\n

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS DIVINE INSPIRATION<\/h2>\n

I spent most of my 20s waiting for divine inspiration before I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard keys). The time of day had to be perfect and I needed to have drunken just enough wine but not too much<\/em>, and the planets needed to be aligned just so…<\/p>\n

You know how much writing I got done?<\/p>\n

Not much. Hardly any, in fact.<\/p>\n

Writing is work. It\u2019s fun work\u2014you get paid to make up weird shit in your head!\u2014but it\u2019s still work. And sometimes you need to knuckle down and write. Even if you don\u2019t want to. Even if the words aren\u2019t coming. You need something on the page.<\/p>\n

Drafts do not rain from heaven on the wings of inspiration angels. Drafts come from applying your ass to a chair and writing like a motherfucker.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t believe me? Let\u2019s look at the numbers.<\/p>\n

New Yorked <\/em>– Five years and 20+ rewrites<\/p>\n

City of Rose <\/em>– Six months and three rewrites<\/p>\n

Sure, the second book came a little easier because I found my voice and my process. But I also had a deadline and treated it like a job. An awesome job that I love, but a job none the less.<\/p>\n

THE POWER OF TOUCH<\/h2>\n

You\u2019ve heard a lot of this advice before. Writing is a job! Perspective Matters! Et cetera!<\/em><\/p>\n

Here\u2019s something I hope you haven\u2019t heard before: How much touch matters.<\/p>\n

This is a thing I learned two years ago in Tom Spanbauer\u2019s workshop, Dangerous Writing. An incredible opportunity, given that Tom is one of this generation\u2019s great living authors (read In the City of Shy Hunters <\/em>and tell me I\u2019m wrong, I fucking dare you).<\/p>\n

Dangerous Writing is about telling the truth, because fiction is the lie that tells the truth truer. Tom has been teaching the workshop for years (counted among his students is Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club<\/em>) and while I learned a great many things in Tom\u2019s basement that weekend, the thing that sticks with me is the power of touch.<\/p>\n

It is so rare that we get touched. Think about that. How many times are you touched during the day? By loved ones, by strangers, by friends\u2014whoever. Touch means something. It transfers power. It can be a moment that stands in time.<\/p>\n

We were still on sub after I finished that class, but I asked my agent if I could do a quick pass on the book. I wanted to apply what I learned in Tom\u2019s workshop. And all those moments of touch jumped out at me. I never really thought of them before, and now I was finding another layer of meaning in the work.<\/p>\n

Another way to dig deep into emotional truth.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Rob Hart is the author of The Last Safe Place: A Zombie Novella<\/em>. His short stories have appeared in Thuglit, Needle, Shotgun Honey, All Due Respect, Helix Literary Magazine, and Joyland. His debut novel, New Yorked<\/em>, will be released in June 2015, with the sequel, City of Rose<\/em>, to follow in early 2016.<\/p>\n

Rob Hart: Website<\/a> | Twitter<\/a> | Facebook<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

New Yorked: Amazon<\/a> | B&N\u00a0<\/a>| iTunes<\/a> | Kobo<\/a> | Google<\/a> | Powell\u2019s<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ashley McKenna is a blunt instrument. Find someone, scare someone, carry something; point him at the job, he gets it done. He generally accepts money upon completion, though a bottle of whiskey works, too — he’s comfortable working on a barter system. It’s not the career he dreamed about (archeologist) but it keeps him comfortable […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-27031","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"hentry","6":"category-theramble","8":"no-featured-image"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pv7MR-71Z","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27031","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27031"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27031\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27034,"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27031\/revisions\/27034"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27031"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27031"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/terribleminds.com\/ramble\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27031"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}