I said goodbye to Dot and hello to Aggi, my new protagonist. She came to life quickly, surly and determined to find her birth parents without regard to who she hurt in the process. Especially her adoptive parents who lived in fear that they were losing her.
The writing went easily. Plotting is my biggest challenge and now I had a complete plot to embellish and deepen. No agonizing over who did it or why. At 83,000 words I put a final polish on the draft and sent it to my beta readers.
To a person, they hated it. More specifically, they hated Aggi. Found her to be mean, bitter, unlikeable, and whiny. They didn’t care what happened to her and they hated how she treated her adoptive parents. No one wants to read a book if the main character doesn’t have at least one relatable redeeming quality.
My reaction was alliterative: I was devastated, deflated, disappointed yet determined to forge ahead. This was a great story with lots of complexity. My magnum opus. I would use the feedback to make it even better.
I went back to the drawing board. I made Aggi more likeable, the other characters more complex, and got rid of some implausible coincidences. I turned the POV from first to third and back again. I brought in more of Aggi’s ordinary world. Created more change, more nuance and sent it back to my beta readers. They were not impressed. Aggi was softer but still too mean. My secondary characters were better developed, but still needed work. This time, I felt like giving up.
The last of my beta readers finished the manuscript a month after the others. We met for a glass of wine. The air was warm. The pandemic was still roaring. We clinked glasses and I waited for her to give me the bad news.
“This isn’t a standalone, Ellen,” she said, “it’s another Dot Meyerhoff mystery.”
Another Dot Meyerhoff? I was flummoxed. Was she suggesting I toss away 83,000 words and close to two years of hard work? I felt like collapsing. Or ordering another glass of wine. I think I said something like “Thanks a lot. You just ruined my life.”
I told my husband what she said. He didn’t know what to say. Neither did my other beta readers or my agent. I told myself she was only trying to help. The least I could do was play with her idea. It wasn’t like I would be starting from scratch. I knew Dot well. I knew what she thought and how she felt. I knew badge-heavy Eddie in his wobbly sobriety. I knew Fran, every cop’s surrogate mother. I knew Dot’s nemesis Chief Pence, who threatens to fire her every other week. And I was just getting to know Frank, Dot’s patient yet wary husband.
I went through the manuscript and highlighted scenes I thought were salvageable. Scenes that might transfer well. Problems popped up right away. Dot is a police psychologist. She works with cops, not temperamental teenagers and illegal adoptions. How was I going to get her involved in Aggi’s search? An amateur sleuth in a mystery series needs a reason to be involved.
My fans expect to read about cops and their problems. Would they be interested in Aggi’s plight? Would they care about her adoptive parents who are falling apart in anticipation that when Aggi finds her “real” parents, she’ll love them more?
There were geographical problems too. Aggi, now renamed as Ava, lives in Iowa. Dot lives in Silicon Valley, California. How was I going to get them in the same room?
It was at this point that I started having fun. I felt happy to be back with the characters I had come to love. The problems that arose became less hindrance than puzzles to be solved. I compressed people. Turned Perky into Fran, Hiram into Lonny, and gave Cody and Iliana bigger, more nuanced back stories. I discovered Sheriff Bergen and his doting assistant, Marge. I made room for Ava to grow out of her teenage angst and bad behavior. I found a way to make Fran the linchpin connecting Ava to Dot and a plausible rationale to move the whole shebang out of Iowa back to California. Dot went along for the ride. Even Eddie got involved as did Chief Pence, although he wasn’t happy about it.
My new and improved novel, Call Me Carmela, is now up for pre-order and launches on 11/26. Please join me to celebrate by checking my events page at www.ellenkirschman.com.
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Ellen Kirschman is an award-winning police and public safety psychologist. She is the author of three non-fiction books and the Dot Meyerhoff mystery series. Ellen finds writing fiction to be therapeutic because she gets to take potshots at nasty cops, incompetent psychologists, and two ex-husbands. Dot is too dedicated for her own good, takes orders from no one, including her chief, and persists in solving crimes when she should be counseling cops— often using methods that would have cost a real psychologist her license. Ellen lives in Redwood City, California with her husband, whose entire life she has plagiarized for Dot’s love interest, Frank. She adores Zumba, dogs, cats and ice cream. Sign up for her occasional newsletter at www.ellenkirschman.com.
