A couple of things to note about these two deals they mention. First, they’re both thrillers. Seems GONE GIRL and GIRL ON THE TRAIN’s remarkable successes have paved the way for publishers to be really excited about new thrillers. This isn’t new news, and despite an overly crowded marketplace, the books with the right combination of elements are still working. We’re reading one now for book club, THE WOMAN IN CABIN 10 by Ruth Ware, which has already sold almost 100,000 copies in hardcover, according to Bookscan, since its publication in July. Clearly, having woman or girl in your title is a sure way to the bestseller list!

Another thing that appeals to me personally is the motherhood angle of the first book Publisher’s Weekly mentions – Gin Phillip’s BEAUTIFUL THINGS, which reportedly sold for close to a million dollars. It’s a thriller which takes place over just 3 hours about a young mom who gets trapped in a zoo with her young son and an armed gunman. I love the premise. It’s simple, but scary and high-concept, and feels original and fresh.

Something else that strikes me about the recent Frankfurt deals is that the second one they talk about, Caz Tudor’s 2-book deal with Crown here in the US, is a debut author from the UK who won a contest for the first book, sponsored by Bonnier and called Twenty7, which offers aspiring writers professional feedback on their unpublished manuscripts. It’s really amazing to see that this freelance copyeditor is now going to be a major internationally published author with sales already in 25 territories.

For now at least, thrillers are still working in the market so polish up those thrillers and send them our way; we’d love to take a look.

The publisher compared the novel to GONE GIRL and GIRL ON THE TRAIN and everything possible was done in promotion and advertising to put THE WIDOW on the bestsellers list.  And it worked. The book made The New York Times list and remained on it for several weeks.

I read THE WIDOW—though several weeks after my vacation—and I was thoroughly disappointed.  It simply did not live up to the hype it had been given.  I did a survey of those in our company who had also read it and everyone agreed with me.  The book simply didn’t deliver what had been promised—a  page turning psychological thriller. (I even asked my colleague who had recommended the book in the first place what she thought and it turned out that she too was disappointed.)

In May of this year, Berkley, the sister company of NAL published another psychological thriller titled I LET YOU GO. But this one didn’t get the same kind of support in house.  For some reason—though it too was compared to GONE GIRL and GIRL ON THE TRAIN—the powers that be decided not promote it in the same way as they had done for THE WIDOW.

I finished I LET YOU GO last week and it is one of the best books I have read in a very long time.  It delivers on all fronts—solid writing, great story telling and characters the reader really roots for.  Again I surveyed my company colleagues who had read the book to see what they thought.  Everyone agreed that this book really delivered.

So my question is why was the decision made to support one of these books and not the other? Why, in the end, did one become a bestseller and the other not?  For those of you who have read both—or who have an opinion on how these decisions are made—I would love to hear your thoughts.

Thrillers have always sold, but Gillian Flynn’s GONE GIRL hit the big screen last year and demand for the genre grew. THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN by Paula Hawkins enjoyed some serious pre-publication buzz and came out of the gates at a full sprint this January. It’s been at, or near, the top of all bestseller lists since. Renee Knight’s debut, DISCLAIMER, comes out in a week, and it has drawn comparisons to both GONE GIRL and THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN. And on the eve of the London Book Fair this year, a professor at Oberlin College saw his debut thriller go for 7 figures in a two-book deal!

So clearly thrillers are hot. But what makes them great? What differentiates a top tier thriller from an average one? What do you think? Sound off in the comments.

Oh, and if you think you’ve written a top tier thriller, do send it my way. I wouldn’t hate reading it…

Last Thursday, during an interview I was giving, I was asked about new trends in our business.  It is always so difficult to predict these but it does seem to me that there is definitely an increased interest in thrillers and mysteries lately.

Just look at the enormous success of GONE GIRL by Gillian Flynn, IN THE WOODS by Tana French, Chelsea Cain’s HEART SICK and its sequels,  and our own MURDER AS A FINE ART.  What I’m looking for in this category is “fresh” and “new,” character driven material featuring strong writing and plenty of twists.  Definitely not “old fashioned” as so many of the scripts I see are.

So, this is a call for that kind of fiction.   I would be excited to consider what you have to offer, especially if you have already had success in the category even in the self-published arena.

So for today’s blog entry, a plea to you from me:  I want to represent the book that feels like this podcast feels.  I want that tension.  I want that slow unfolding and conversational reportage.  Fiction or nonfiction is fine, but I’m not looking for a run-of-the-mill mystery or true crime book.  I want something that feels huge and also intimate.  A book where every answer raises more questions and then explores all those paths looking for the truth.  I want a book where I’m dying to get back to it and desperate for friends to read it to so we can talk about what we think is happening as we read.  I want to be certain and then confounded and certain again and endlessly curious.  I want something that grips me from the first sentence and maybe won’t ever let me go.

So if you’re the author of that book and you’re looking for an agent, please query me.  And if you want to just talk about Serial, hit me up in the comments or on Twitter (@laurenabramo). (Though let’s try not to spoil it below for anyone who’s just diving in.)

It’s nearly midnight on Halloween, and a few moments ago I could actually hear the wind whistling through the trees–spooky in a pleasant sort of way.  Sure beats last year, when Hurricane Sandy pre-empted not only trick-or-treating but normal life.  Now that was a frightening Halloween. 

Though I love looking at lists like this one from Flavorwire in which readers nominate the stories that scared them senseless, I very rarely read horror or anything that bills itself as spine-tingling, bone-chilling, or terrifying.  This is less a genre bias than it is a failure of courage. Plus, I find so many things scary about the real world: antibiotic resistant bacteria, global water shortages, human bloodthirstiness (really any one of the four horseman of the apocalypse; war, famine, pestilence, death–take your pick) so who needs Stephen King to frighten me further?  I just read the draft memoir of a civil conflict specialist who worked in Rwanda after the genocide and in Charles Taylor’s Liberia, who adopted a child from Sierra Leone.  That gave me more nightmares than Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House or the Poe’s (admittedly freaky) Mask of Red Death ever did.  But I may be missing the gene for scary books.  I’m no fan of horror movies and detest the stomach-dropping sensation of rollercoasters.  

But what about you; What novels did you find frightening? Do you enjoy being creeped out?

Apparently I wasn’t the only one intrigued because the response to the panel was very enthusiastic. Writer’s Digest recently offered its readers some highlights which I wanted to share here. Much of the advice is practical, real-world and accessible, a strength of A.J.’s in his writing as well as his teaching.

A few examples of the gems you’ll find in A.J.’s advice:

*Good writers borrow…Great writers steal. Most of Shakespeare’s stories originated in other source material

*All scenes must have both internal and external conflict. “It’s not enough for the door to be locked. The character has to have a reason to not want to open it.”

*The dialogue says it all. Hartley pointed out that we tend to think of Shakespeare as a great philosopher, spouting off wisdoms—but that’s not the case. “Every word in Shakespeare is dialogue. It comes from character. … We do not know what Shakespeare thought about anything, and that’s what makes him good.”

It looks like there are a lot of things writers can take away from one of the oldest and greatest out there. And there’s so much more great stuff in this piece. Check it out and book your ticket to next year’s ThrillerFest where I’m guessing A.J. will be presenting another panel on this topic.

Hope you find someone useful that will translate to your own writing. Let us know.

Since I’m not talking about children’s books, I thought this might be a good time to remind blog readers that I also represent projects on the adult side of the business. And, at the moment, I’m very actively seeking new adult projects, both fiction and nonfiction. As for novels, I’d love to find a compelling thriller with a fresh point of view, maybe even something a bit more literary that the usual. And I’m always in the market for something that’s upmarket trashy, like A Secret History (and yes, “upmarket trashy” is a compliment–A Secret History is in my top 5 books). I love those books that have compelling (and even provocative) plots, but also have a little more going on. Dark and psychological never hurts, either, and things that border on horror (but don’t quite get all the way there) definitely appeal to me.

On the nonfiction side, I’m always on the hunt for great memoir. I love authors with a sense of humor about themselves, even in the toughest of circumstances. Though addiction and affliction memoirs are probably tough at this point, adversity seems to be at the core of most of the books I’ve sold, and having a strong personal conflict is an important piece of the puzzle. I’m not as drawn to political books as I once was, probably due to the 24-hour news cycle, but I do enjoy investigative reporting about political issues, both at home and abroad. I especially appreciate writers who can explain the big issues through smaller, more personal stories; it’s hard to sell a book when there isn’t an individual story at the heart of it. I’m particularly interested in finding science writers who can distill complex concepts into something people like me can understand; if you’re the next Neil deGrasse Tyson, please find your way to my inbox.

So in addition to sending me your amazing middle grade and young adult, be sure to keep me in mind for your fantastic adult projects, as well.

You could say I’ve been reading a lot Stephen King lately.

One of the things I noticed when reading 11/22/63 is that King finally seems to have figured out how to write fiction. He simply knows what words to put where to keep you reading. But that doesn’t mean his work is good. Now, I really liked 11/22/63. But I loved The Green Mile. And I will forever be affected by The Shining.

In The Shining, King is still figuring out this whole writing thing, and it’s apparent on the page. The writing is awkward and clumsy at times. King takes chances with unique phrasing

(REDRUM)

and  narrative techniques. He wrestles with the possibilities that are available to him, and it works. The Shining is the most terrifying book I have ever read. After reading thirty pages on the subway, I was unable to order coffee or read submissions. I was shaken.

In The Green Mile, King tackles a very serious challenge – a literary and suspenseful story about an older man looking back on his past. There isn’t much action in it, but I was on the edge of my (subway) seat the entire time. Again, King’s prose here really helped accentuate the right aspects of the book.

In 11/22/63, King’s writing has become formulaic and universal. There are parts of 11/22/63 that are truly gripping and very, very real, but there are other parts of it where the story fall flat because King is utilizing his perfect writing. And while that may work all of the time, it’s not necessarily appropriate every time.

So what I’m learning from diving headfirst into the deep, deep pool that is The Works Of Stephen King is that prose and plot must always be dancing with each other. When King adapts his writing to suit his story and vice-versa, the effect shines. When he doesn’t, when he sticks with his tried and true prose style, well, it doesn’t fall flat – it is Stephen King, after all – but it simply doesn’t work as perfectly.

But, of course, everyone has their own opinion on craft vs. plot. What about you? Would you endure a terrible plot because the writing is beautiful? Would you drag through clunky prose because the story is great?

Over dessert (I know, we were naughty), we both lamented the submission we see and reject over and over: the one that opens with a big, slam-bang action scene followed by about 50 pages of background before anything equally exciting happens again. Generally, that background takes three overlapping forms: backstory about the characters, description of the setting, and sharing of research. And usually, you can tell from the tone that the writer feels this background is very, very important to your understanding of the opening scene.

But really, 50 pages? There’s a reason why it’s called a thriller—it’s supposed to thrill you with an exciting plot. Why do we need to know a character’s personal history if that character isn’t really doing anything? Why paint a beautiful atmospheric picture of the Florida everglades if nothing actually happens there? Why describe in detail how a jet fighter works if it doesn’t get off the ground? Where’s the thrill in that?

Some say you start with a bang then slow the tempo so you have room to build—I say, why not keep up the tempo and build higher? After that big opening murder, I’d much rather watch the killer run and the detective chase than learn about the killer’s sad childhood and how the detective’s wife left him. In other words, let me know the characters by being shown (hint, hint) what they do than being told (get it yet?) who they are.

Here’s a little exercise I learned at a writer’s conference: take a look at your first 50 pages and cut any and all background material you find there. Then, either connect what’s left to the rest of the plot, or fill out the story with action scenes. I have a sneaking suspicion that not only will your manuscript be more gripping and fast-paced—thrilling, even—but that when you go back to fill in the background, you’ll find you it barely even miss it.