The Renegade Writer Blog

If you’ve read The Renegade Writer (you have, haven’t you?), you might remember me reminiscing about my ten years of toil in product marketing and advertising, where I reported to various stupid and crazy bosses. That guy over on the left? He was one of my bosses … one of the few who was actually smart and sane, not to mention kind and erudite, qualities you rarely find in corporate office space. He quoted Yeats when he interviewed me back in the late 1980s. Maybe it was Eliot, I can’t quite remember. What I do recall is that I was maybe a year out of college, a lowly proofreader, when one afternoon Chris Knopf, a copywriter at Mintz & Hoke Advertising in Connecticut (now Mintz & Hoke Communications Group) asked me, “You want to read a chapter of a novel I’ve been working on?”

If someone asked me that today, I’d make up an excuse like, “Um, I’m sorry, but I’ve got this permanent disability because of previous manuscript readings …” You know, because novels-in-progress usually suck, and suck badly.

But I wasn’t world-weary back then. I was a young whippersnapper, flattered that my boss valued my opinion enough to let me have a read. And as it was, Chris’s writing was excellent. I recall feeling the cognitive dissonance of being deposited into fantastic story, then realizing it had all been crafted by someone I knew. Suffice it to say, I was impressed. Years have passed and I still remember some of the details Chris wove into that beautifully crafted chapter.

Chris is now chairman and chief creative director of Mintz & Hoke, as well as a successful mystery novelist. In 2005 his first novel, The Last Refuge, garnered praise from everyone from The New York Times (”spare, emotionally eloquent style”) to Publisher’s Weekly (”effortless narrative style and sense of humor”). The New York Times deemed Knopf’s voice in Two Time, the second novel in his Sam Acquillo series, as “cool, careful, reflective.”

This month, Head Wounds, the third in the series is out and collecting more great reviews from the usual suspects. I asked Chris if he’d like to share with our readers about what it’s like to write critically acclaimed mystery novels while running a successful advertising agency. Lucky for us, he gave me a call from New Orleans, where he was traveling on business, to chat with me. Many journalists/freelancers harbor the dream of writing a novel, so I was curious if Chris had any advice to share based on his dual career. Here’s our conversation:

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DB: Most of the readers of our blog are freelance journalists and I know many journalists harbor the hope that, someday, they’ll write a novel. Can you tell us what led you to pick up the proverbial pen and go for it?

CK: I went to graduate school where I studied creative writing. In fact, my thesis written back in 1976 was a novel. After that I went on to write three novels, none of which my agent was able to find a home for. So I started working on novels before I got into advertising. The novel writing was always there. I also tried writing short stories and poetry but was lousy at both. Novel writing is more forgiving.

DB: You’re living proof you can work a full-time job — geez, you run an ad agency! — while writing and publishing novels. How do you juggle the two endeavors?

CK: Everybody has things they do after hours, whether it’s playing golf or watching TV. For me, it’s writing. I write after work and on weekends. I write during ferry trips [Chris has a second home in the Hamptons, where his Sam Acquillo mysteries are set.] I use those periods to work on my books. I don’t need R&R, although I’ve recently taken up sailing and that’s sucking up some time. Watching TV isn’t relaxing for me. More than 15 minutes of it, and I’m ready to jump out of my skin. Everyone has the same amount of time, it’s what you decide to do with it that makes the difference.

DB: Can you talk about how your career in advertising benefits your novel writing career?

CK: This will resonate with your audience. It’s the discipline of being a professional writer. In an agency, you have deadlines that have to be met. You have colleagues and clients calling you on your writing. That’s the biggest problem with many beginning writers: they have no work ethic or they wilt at the whiff of rejection. This gives people like us — I have callouses a foot deep — an advantage. You’ll notice that a lot of novels tend to be written by copywriters, journalists, academics, lawyers … people who are used to having their copy or writing judged in a professional setting.

My editors are always saying, “You’re so easy to work with.” They’re used to watching writers crumble when edits have to be made or a critic says something negative about their work. I’ve been rejected so many times in my copywriting career it feels more like the norm. You get beat up enough, you develop a professional carapace. If an editor makes a good case for why I need to change something, I change it — I’ll happily kill my babies.

DB: What’s the most surprising thing you’ve learned about publishing now that you’re a multi-published novelist?

CK: Once you’re kicked off the bus, it’s almost impossible to get back on. You fail and your novel doesn’t sell, you go to the back of the line. No one publishes you again, unless you change your name. And this is after beating the staggering odds of getting an agent, then selling your book. I have to say my publisher and editors are good, decent people who treat me well, but a lot of writers feel like they’re on the bottom of the pecking order.

The power is with the editors, agents and publishers, unless you’re one of the few bestselling authors. For us rank-and-file writers, it’s a little like being in a high-hurdle race with no finish line.

The Mystery Writers of America holds an Edgar Awards every year, where they have an editor/agents reception. I went two years ago and it reminded me of a junior high school dance. The writers stood around in packs, nervously eyeballing the editors and agents; they’re like the pretty girls at the dance. You can’t look at them or make eye contact with them. There’s a supplicant side to writing I hadn’t seen before, and it was interesting to watch.

Publishing’s a nutty business. And I thought advertising was nutty. [Chris laughs] The whole returns business … it’s like the swap shop where you bring in clothes. Basically when you walk into a Barnes & Noble, you’re in a glorified consignment shop. Imagine them doing this at Home Depot: “Hey, those tractors didn’t sell, let’s return them to John Deere and get our money back!” It’s an archaic system.

DB: That sounds pretty depressing, Chris. Don’t you think it’s a good time to be a novelist?

CK: It’s mixed. The good news right now is all the micro-marketing authors can do. You can exploit the marketplace, get word of mouth and some buzz going on your own with stuff like emarketing, websites and blogs, and that’s all good news for writers. There are fewer reviewers now with the collapse of the newspaper industry, and that’s bad. Some of them are moving online, which is good, but there are fewer critical readers out there — that’s a little nervewracking for me. I’m glad to be a mystery writer, though — the genre is growing. Even with these negatives, I’m not a big one for doom and gloom. If you’re a good writer, you have every chance.

DB: OK, so your three pieces of advice for journalists who dream about writing a novel?

CK: First, writers are people who write. I wrote an essay in the book How I Got Published, which covers this. You don’t learn to play the saxophone listening to John Coltrane. You have to pick up a sax and do the work yourself. You have to practice.

And don’t worry about what you write. At first you’re going to write crap. That’s okay. You tell yourself, “I’m practicing.” Getting that initial stuff on paper is hard work. Learn to love rewriting.

Finally, find people who are good readers and editors. One of the worst things you can do is listen to your family and friends. They’re really bad readers, family and friends. They’ll either tell you everything is great and don’t change a thing, or they resent you and want to tear you down. You cannot trust these people. You need objective criticism from people who don’t know you or care about you. Bad advice is worse than no advice than all. Also, I’m wary of writers’ groups. Those things can be dangerous and turn into something more like group therapy. Better to have at least one person who has the experience and practical knowledge to help you, and isn’t there to make you feel good so you won’t make them feel bad. [db]

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