Two Decades Ago

2026 marks the twentieth anniversary of the publication of my debut novel, The Nymphos of Rocky Flats. Its arrival was the culmination of a seventeen-year-long journey that began when I decided to write a book and get it published. 

What initiated the journey was me reading a library book and having the most dangerous idea ever to enter the head of a wannabe writer: "If this guy got published, then so can I." And so it began. When I started, I did so on my own before discovering that I needed guidance learning how to tell a novel-length story. I enrolled in an adult-education writing class, which taught me a valuable lesson in how rotten people could be. In other words, what kind of writing groups to avoid. Soon after moving to Colorado, I joined Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, an organization I can't credit enough for their mentorship in helping me get published. I was then invited to a critique group headed by the late Jameson Cole, who ran the sessions like a boot camp. The discipline and hard lessons paid off as three of us, Jeanne Stein, Jeff Shelby, and myself, went on to get contracts with the NY Big Six (or is it Five now?) However, the path to publication was neither straight nor certain. Donis Casey, on her blog Write Errant, gave me an opportunity to share an anecdote about my challenges. 

 

 

I entered my manuscript in the 2003 RMFW Colorado Gold contest. Though I didn't get top prize, as a finalist, my submission was evaluated by guest editors and agents, which primed the pump when the opportunity arose for me to pitch my story. I gave an elevator pitch in an elevator--how meta is that? In November 2004, I got The Call, an offer for a three-book deal with HarperCollins. With a publication date of 2006, you can appreciate the long, long lead times of traditional publishing.

After the confirmation for a book launch, I pulled out all the stops to promote the event. Naturally, I got support from RMFW. At the time I was an active volunteer with Su Teatro, so I nudged ribs over there. I scoured my Rolodex (remember those?) to invite former work colleagues, and I prodded every media contact that I knew. 

The audience filled almost all 300 seats in the auditorium of the Tattered Cover LoDo. I was so overwhelmed that I forgot people's names, even those of good friends who showed up. How embarrassing for me, yes.  Despite that, the night was indeed a magical experience. 

 

Me signing and adding something dirty.

Since then, what has happened? Quite a lot actually.  For as Lily Tomlin once said, "The road to success is always under construction." I could dwell on what didn't take place. No blockbuster deals. Hollywood never came calling. I got orphaned. But a lot of great things did come my way. I was fortunate enough to teach creative writing at Lighthouse Writers Workshops and with the Regis University Mile-High MFA program. I got a Colorado Book Award, was a finalist several times, won two International Latino Book Awards, and gathered many other distinctions. Along the way I've attended bunches of conferences and became friends with many writers. As a ghostwriter, I helped clients publish twenty books. I've also edited three anthologies, and published nine of my novels: seven in the Felix Gomez series, a YA adventure, and a graphic novel.

In retrospect I have a lot to be grateful for. What does the future have in store? Stay tuned.

 

 

 

The Call

Twenty years ago this month, I got "The Call," meaning the phone call I received from my agent informing me that HarperCollins had offered a contract on my manuscript. For a work like mine, an urban fantasy, they wanted a series and could I write that? Even though I had no idea where to take my character from this first book, I answered, "Of course!"

I had been primed for this moment from my experience in Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, listening to their pros share anecdotes of triumph and caution after receiving their Call. I knew this contract was but one step forward on my path as a writer, an important step but a single step nonetheless. I knew more work waited: establishing a website, making inroads on social media (MySpace back then), contacting bookstores, reaching out to cons to get on panels now that I was a published writer!

I'd heard other writers explain how "The Call" had changed their lives. However, for some, all was not good, because after receiving the call, the deal fell through, which painfully delayed and detoured their writing journey. At the time, I didn't see The Call as altering my life much since I was in a holding pattern waiting for the chance to break free. I was living in the basement of an ex-girlfriend's house, having been laid off during a reduction-in-force (the second time in my professional career, the third time if you count being mustered out of the Army), and earning my keep by hopscotching from job-to-job. Fixing forklifts, delivering lost luggage, newspapers, pizzas, working in a car dealership. The offer was a three-book contract for a "Nice Deal." It wasn't a big pile of money but enough to rent a place of my own and pay the bills for a while. My life was back on track.

Because of changes in publishing, The Call has since lost much of its significance. Self-publishing has evolved to the point that allows writers to find success without the need for a NY publisher or an agent. Even those traditionally published often opt for a hybrid model to survive.

Considering my single-minded focus on finishing that first book, I saw the forthcoming contract as inevitable, but looking back, it had definitely changed my life for the better, and I have to acknowledge that for me, the stars had aligned and it was the Universe that had given me The Call.

The Final Stretch and Freebies

 I've posted before about my role as the jefe editor for Ramas y Raices: The Best of CALMA, an anthology from the Colorado Alliance of Latino Mentors and Authors. The project started in early 2022, and now, at last, we're in the final stretch to the finish line. However, it's not a time to coast as plenty remains so that the book launch goes off without any problems. Approaching this completion, I fidgeted for many nights, tormenting myself with disaster scenarios.

Final manuscript. Check. And rechecked. Checked again.

Cover: Ready for Amazon and IngramSpark. Check.

Advanced Reading Copies ordered and reviewed. Check.

Press releases sent out. Check.

And on and on.

Fortunately, I wasn't alone as my editorial staff and the CALMA Executive Board all helped with the heavy lifting. This is the third anthology I've honchoed and the last, I promise.

The Freebies.

HarperCollins, the first publisher of my Felix Gomez detective-vampire series, is offering books 1-3 for free as eBooks on Kindle Unlimited (through June 30, 2024). Get yours here:

 

Book 1

 

 

 

 

Book 2

 

 

 

 

 

Book 3

Remembering a Mentor

I was talking with my sons about the value of mentors in your professional development. I mentioned that it was something that I hadn't done and regretted it. Then I remembered that wasn't quite true. I did have a mentor as a writer and he had been a significant influence in giving me the skills and knowledge that helped me eventually get published.

Around 1987, I got serious about writing a novel. I quickly discovered that I didn't know what I was doing and sought to educate myself. By then I had moved to Fresno, California, and signed up for an adult education class on writing. It was taught by a woman who was a copy editor with the local newspaper. While she knew the technical ins-and-outs about writing, she established herself as a gate-keeper and claimed that if we didn't do things her way, that she'd make sure none of us would ever get published. The best thing I can say about the experience is that I now know what a terrible critique group is like. 

Then when I moved to Colorado, I joined Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and discovered what it was like to be among for-real published authors eager to share their wisdom and help the rest of us along. My first RMFW critique group was comprised of wannabes and in spite of our enthusiasm, it was the blind leading the blind. After receiving a rejection letter in which the agent recommended that I work on my synopsis, I signed up for an RMFW workshop on writing a synopsis. During the class, this man sitting behind me asked about my work-in-progress. He then invited me to join his newly formed critique group. That man was Jameson Cole.

Turns out that he had just won the Colorado Book Award for his novel, A Killing in Quail County. The fact that he had been published by St. Martin's Press and won an award gave him serious street cred. I was one of six-to-seven writers who met in his home just outside Morrison. We soon learned that this was no coffee klatch. Jim was strict with his rules about critiquing. For homework, he assigned two books that he'd quote from like Scripture, Dwight Swain's Techniques of the Selling Writer, and Jack Bickham's Scene & Structure. The critiques were heavy on mechanics and craft for commercial fiction, and we didn't indulge in lofty literary prose. The sessions were bouts of writing boot camp, but unlike my experience in California, the critiques were educational and directive. 

However, not all was well. Convinced that he possessed the keys to the publishing world, Jim labored on a second book that went nowhere. He started on a third and those efforts sputtered. The group fell into a funk as none of us, despite our vastly improved works, seemed to be doing little more than collecting rejection letters. Jim accepted a work promotion and moved away. With that, our forlorn band of scribes scattered into the wilderness.

After a long lonely year of not writing, we renewed contact and decided to restart the critique group, minus Jim. It was odd meeting at first, and we felt his stern hand on our shoulders. Then within six months, three of us got publishing offers, which eventually became contracts with Dutton for Jeff Shelby, Ace for Jeanne Stein, and HarperCollins for me. The group has since evolved and moves about Denver like a writing phantom. Its latest incarnation is as a tiki drinking club. Those of us still in the group are first-rate writers, though getting published remains as daunting and uncertain as ever.

Which brings me back to Jim as my mentor. Soon after that conversation with my sons, I received word that Jim had passed away earlier this month. So yes indeed, I did have a mentor, and one to whom I will be forever indebted to. Thank you, Jameson Cole.