Welcome Richard! Thanks so much for joining us. Richard also writes under the alias WT Durand. Be sure to check out his books under both names.
Thanks for the opportunity to explain myself, Sarah. I was once called an "auto-didact" by an editor I respect a lot. The description certainly fits as my entire official college career consisted of two semesters (beginning Fall 1969) before I found the pull of full-time protest and music could not be resisted. Born in California in 1952, I grew up all over the West, often moving more than once a year. It resulted in shallow roots, but a good ability to fit in quickly, wherever I was. I became a meticulous observer of human behavior and detail which contributed to my adaptability. Later, I returned to the classroom to audit classes I had an interest in, but my self-driven education has really been active my entire life. I always had some skill with words and images, so stories came easily. After a couple of aborted attempts, my first novel was completed in 2008 (The Red Gate, published in 2009). By that time, I'd worn lots of different hats working jobs from cannery to frame carpenter to sign carver, graphic designer and Indian Trader, traveling across the country and back, eventually settling down in New York City. I'd become an Ad Man, creating marketing campaigns, writing copy and designing corporate communications and identity. Later, I made a career sea-change as our family opened an American Indian Arts gallery and full-time trading in the Native Arts took us across country four to six times every year from 1985 until 2007. We also kept a home in New Mexico for twenty years, an inspiration in itself. Semi-Retirement after 2007 gave me more time to write, and more time to read which led to a few more books. As long as my hands are busy with building or creating or playing music, I'm a happy camper.
Wow Richard, it sounds like you have led quite an exciting life. So, what got you into writing?
There are really only two things that drew me in. First, reading of course. I liked adventure and scifi and exotic locales when I wasn't pouring over cereal boxes or owners manuals. If it had words in print, I was on it. The second was a book my grandmother found in her attic for ten-year-old me to read after having read almost everything else she had handy. It was a First Edition of L. Frank Baum's Tik-Tok of Oz. I still keep it on the shelf, where it reminds me of how it inspired me to want to tell stories and put them on paper.
I know you have so many books out there, would you share a short excerpt from one?
Here's the opening from my 2014 novel, Back to Santa Fe, written as WT Durand. It's loosely a police procedural/family conflict kind of story. One of my favorite reviews came from a Romance writer, so it's clearly cross-genre. I also loaded it with little Easter eggs for the readers of my completely unrelated (or so it seems...) first two novels, set in Ireland. Here's the pitch: Sullivan Ortega has just returned to his empty childhood home in Santa Fe to pay his respects to the last of his family, his sister Maggie, killed in a single-car crash. He’s trying to put his life back together, but along with a bad temper, he's got few prospects or real friends. Learning what happened is taking him somewhere he doesn't want to go back to . Second chances can get messy.
Prologue
1981, Northwest of Santa Fe, New Mexico
A sudden gust of afternoon wind raked over the dark green water, sending a patch of ripples towards a rocky shoreline. It carried them right up and over the feet of a boy of ten or eleven, sitting on an old waterlogged stump, revealed when the dry season lowered the level of the reservoir. He laughed as the ripples tickled his legs and feet and began to swing them back and forth.
A woman’s voice called down from over the top of the steep, bank, “Sullivan, get up here, Lunch is ready!”
“Okay, Ma,” he shouted back. Sullivan reluctantly pulled his feet from the reservoir and shook the water off before pulling his muddy sneakers back on. As he stood, he turned back to the water to see how the snow-covered Las Truchas peaks were reflected in it, upside down. They winked like stars below the brown, Juniper-studded hills that ran into the shoreline.
“Here I come,” he called as he struggled up the slope. “Where’s Maggie? Have you got her?”
Chapter One
Fifteen years later…
"At least try to keep 'im quiet! Can you do that for me?" The desk sergeant, Ben Ortega, raised both hands in frustration and gave up on the booking form. There was barely enough desktop left uncovered to find a spot to write anyway. The morning had already been a disaster and now, here was Sullivan. Second time this month.
The arresting officers, Garcia and Sandoval, really had their hands full just keeping their arrest from charging the desk, let alone explaining the fine points of booking etiquette to him for the umpteenth time. The man they had cuffed a half an hour earlier towered over them both. Red faced, wild black hair flinging sweat, the man was a menace. Sergeant Ortega knew Garcia had pumped iron since a teenager in the barrio, but it wasn’t doing him much good. He was slowly losing the struggle with Sullivan. Officer Sandoval was really no help at all. In a firm, control voice, Sandoval told the struggling man, "Sullivan, you've got to calm down. We're going to book you if it takes ten of us — it won't be pretty.”
No change at all. Sullivan continued to struggle. Sandoval, nervously fingered his nightstick and looked
back at Garcia. Garcia, drew his own nightstick from the loop on his belt, and then attempted to put it across Sullivan's throat.
In a flash of surprising speed, Garcia found himself lying flat on the floor while the big guy, arms cuffed behind him, began to drag Sandoval over to the desk. Sandoval, forgetting his nightstick, leaned back with his full weight against the cuff chain. He heard his heels slipping across the freshly waxed floor.
Bellowing, "It's not right," Sullivan bellied up to the desk with a final lurch, rocking it back. It even rattled the ultra-cool sergeant, who found his arresting officers either picking themselves off the floor, or just standing there tugging weakly against the cuffs.
The sergeant looked calmly into a boiling red face, just inches from his own. He then unsnapped his MACE holster keeper and slid the aerosol can out so the label could be seen. Keeping it firmly in his grip, he laid his hand down on the desk and pushing out his chin said quietly, "Sullivan, if you don't shut up, I'll shut you up myself.” It appeared to him that Sullivan's anger management classes last month had accomplished little. The big man bent down to look the sergeant in the eye. Sgt. Ben Ortega stood, rising to his full 5 foot seven inch height and put his forehead against the angry man's forehead. In the same quiet voice, Ortega said, "Come on, cousin... we've all got a job to do.”
The six and a half foot tower named Sullivan Derrick Ortega, simply deflated… muttering. The two arresting officers quickly flanked him in seconds, wearing their best "in charge" faces. Sullivan looked down at the two on either side of his shoulders.
"No hard feelings, okay guys?"
"I guess not, Sully," said Garcia, watching Sgt. Ortega’s eyes.
"Me neither," said Sandoval, letting the smallest trace of a smile find its way to his face.
"Sullivan... listen cousin, you're going to have to learn how to keep your temper under control. This is getting serious.” Sgt. Ortega eased back into his chair.
As Sullivan began to protest, he simply cut it off by waving a finger in the air in his face. "What would your mother and sister — God rest them — think of all this?"
Sergeant Ortega waited for a response and when not a single grunt was forthcoming, he repeated it, "What?"
Sullivan, already shrunken back to his normal size, slumped more and muttered something, his head hanging, eyes focusing on the mess of paperwork on the desk.
"I didn't hear that, Vato,” said Ortega.
Sullivan, glanced up sharply, repeating, "My guess is that they wouldn't like it much. Okay, Ben?"
1981, Northwest of Santa Fe, New Mexico
A sudden gust of afternoon wind raked over the dark green water, sending a patch of ripples towards a rocky shoreline. It carried them right up and over the feet of a boy of ten or eleven, sitting on an old waterlogged stump, revealed when the dry season lowered the level of the reservoir. He laughed as the ripples tickled his legs and feet and began to swing them back and forth.
A woman’s voice called down from over the top of the steep, bank, “Sullivan, get up here, Lunch is ready!”
“Okay, Ma,” he shouted back. Sullivan reluctantly pulled his feet from the reservoir and shook the water off before pulling his muddy sneakers back on. As he stood, he turned back to the water to see how the snow-covered Las Truchas peaks were reflected in it, upside down. They winked like stars below the brown, Juniper-studded hills that ran into the shoreline.
“Here I come,” he called as he struggled up the slope. “Where’s Maggie? Have you got her?”
Chapter One
Fifteen years later…
"At least try to keep 'im quiet! Can you do that for me?" The desk sergeant, Ben Ortega, raised both hands in frustration and gave up on the booking form. There was barely enough desktop left uncovered to find a spot to write anyway. The morning had already been a disaster and now, here was Sullivan. Second time this month.
The arresting officers, Garcia and Sandoval, really had their hands full just keeping their arrest from charging the desk, let alone explaining the fine points of booking etiquette to him for the umpteenth time. The man they had cuffed a half an hour earlier towered over them both. Red faced, wild black hair flinging sweat, the man was a menace. Sergeant Ortega knew Garcia had pumped iron since a teenager in the barrio, but it wasn’t doing him much good. He was slowly losing the struggle with Sullivan. Officer Sandoval was really no help at all. In a firm, control voice, Sandoval told the struggling man, "Sullivan, you've got to calm down. We're going to book you if it takes ten of us — it won't be pretty.”
No change at all. Sullivan continued to struggle. Sandoval, nervously fingered his nightstick and looked
back at Garcia. Garcia, drew his own nightstick from the loop on his belt, and then attempted to put it across Sullivan's throat.
In a flash of surprising speed, Garcia found himself lying flat on the floor while the big guy, arms cuffed behind him, began to drag Sandoval over to the desk. Sandoval, forgetting his nightstick, leaned back with his full weight against the cuff chain. He heard his heels slipping across the freshly waxed floor.
Bellowing, "It's not right," Sullivan bellied up to the desk with a final lurch, rocking it back. It even rattled the ultra-cool sergeant, who found his arresting officers either picking themselves off the floor, or just standing there tugging weakly against the cuffs.
The sergeant looked calmly into a boiling red face, just inches from his own. He then unsnapped his MACE holster keeper and slid the aerosol can out so the label could be seen. Keeping it firmly in his grip, he laid his hand down on the desk and pushing out his chin said quietly, "Sullivan, if you don't shut up, I'll shut you up myself.” It appeared to him that Sullivan's anger management classes last month had accomplished little. The big man bent down to look the sergeant in the eye. Sgt. Ben Ortega stood, rising to his full 5 foot seven inch height and put his forehead against the angry man's forehead. In the same quiet voice, Ortega said, "Come on, cousin... we've all got a job to do.”
The six and a half foot tower named Sullivan Derrick Ortega, simply deflated… muttering. The two arresting officers quickly flanked him in seconds, wearing their best "in charge" faces. Sullivan looked down at the two on either side of his shoulders.
"No hard feelings, okay guys?"
"I guess not, Sully," said Garcia, watching Sgt. Ortega’s eyes.
"Me neither," said Sandoval, letting the smallest trace of a smile find its way to his face.
"Sullivan... listen cousin, you're going to have to learn how to keep your temper under control. This is getting serious.” Sgt. Ortega eased back into his chair.
As Sullivan began to protest, he simply cut it off by waving a finger in the air in his face. "What would your mother and sister — God rest them — think of all this?"
Sergeant Ortega waited for a response and when not a single grunt was forthcoming, he repeated it, "What?"
Sullivan, already shrunken back to his normal size, slumped more and muttered something, his head hanging, eyes focusing on the mess of paperwork on the desk.
"I didn't hear that, Vato,” said Ortega.
Sullivan, glanced up sharply, repeating, "My guess is that they wouldn't like it much. Okay, Ben?"
Richard, when you read, which do you prefer: print books or ebooks?
It depends on why I'm reading it. If it is completely absorbing, my Nook eReader is most effective and comfortable as I can change the text type size for better legibility and also instantly look up any words I meet that I'm unacquainted with. If it's a reference or non-fiction work, then generally I prefer paper, although the state of our library shelves (already heavily loaded...) can make the decision, too.
Richard, you have more writing experience than most of my authors featured. Have you been given any helpful advice you can pass along?
I stumbled into several really excellent writers groups online around 2006, when I was banging out stories on my laptop at the register stand in our gallery. I had the fundamentals, but little guidance. I found so much helpful criticism, unexpected insights and pats upon the back when I got depressed, that I can't begin to even sort them according to benefit. It was all incredibly useful. Most of these folks are still online friends that share the inside stuff easily. As far as structure, I'm what we call in our circle, a "pantser" (as in "by the seat of my pants") and have had little results from advice along the lines of plotting ahead of time, but as far as checking concepts, noting anachronisms, or cultural issues, these folks are the best! I do for them as much as I can as well.
Currently, what are you working on?
I've got two works in progress right now. One is a family saga about a merchant marine during WW2 set mostly in New Orleans and Brooklyn. The other is a series about the education of two Hellenic scholars during the time of Caesar's conquest of Gaul and afterwards as they begin traveling to protect the ancient knowledge they have stolen from the Library of Alexandria. Their travels lead them into close association with Gallic Barbarians and even Druids. Their dealing with the Celtic culture has its moments. The first book was completed and released last year (The Gift Voyages) but there are at least two more to come. There is another Western themed novel that exists only in character notes right now that will become more of a book by next year.
Those both sound so exciting. Good Luck, can’t wait to see the finished products.
Tell us a little bit about your main characters
No matter the book or genre, my characters are clueless, initially. They find themselves at odds with the current situation and have to learn to figure their way out of whatever it may be. They usually think they have it all figured out, then realize they don't. It's a condition I found myself in a lot when I was younger. I have always preferred reading about normal folks in unusual circumstances. My fiction writing is all character-driven, but the range of genres I write in reveals how important I think setting is. I like strong visuals, but when it comes to my characters, usually leave the reader guessing a bit so they can fill in what they need to connect. Sometimes, they are inspired by real people in my life; and sometimes, they just pop into my head and start making their presence known, even in dreams. One book, On Parson's Creek was inspired by a real small-town setting my Junior Year of High School. Two books take place on the Mayo coast of Ireland. One several light years from Earth; but whatever the setting, most readers will recognize the characters I write. Possibly even know them personally.
Share something with us not a lot of people know about you.
My very first job in New York City (after hitchhiking there from an Oregon Commune...) was as a ski mechanic. Later I was one of Saloman's very first certified bindings mechanics back in 1974. I went to work for Herman's Sporting Goods down on Nassau Street and used to ride the subway to work with old Herman himself. My interview was a bit off though. Once the manager had shaken my hand and told me to report for work Monday, I had to ask if he could give me and advance as my funds had run out completely! He gave me a fifty, which covered my SRO room in the Hotel Lucerne on Broadway, uptown, for a few more days. I later found out that American playwright Thornton Wilder had lived in the Lucerne before he made a name for himself. There was a coke machine in the lobby. It was not a posh situation, but it was better than the YMCA. Seriously.
Wow, it looks like you’ve done a little bit of everything.
How do you promote your books? Any tips you can share?
Having spent a number of years in marketing and advertising, I was pretty sure I had it all figured out (like most of my characters...) but the truth is that since the advent of eBooks and online marketing, promotion is evolving almost daily. I'm still trying to find a formula. There are no easy, sure-thing answers at all beyond "know who your readers are and put your book where they congregate". This, of course, involves some cost, and if you have relatively shallow pockets, it can be difficult. Still, though even if you are bursting with cash, you need to take a cautious approach and see as much proof as you can of the effectiveness of offered sites and services, before plunking down your bucks. The whole author-as-brand thing is also overstated and over simplified. Be careful not to come off as a late night TV pitchman. Keep your nose clean in online reader forums by not providing troll-bait. If you are fortunate enough to have a publisher, make as much use of their ideas of positioning and market niche as you can in your own marketing and know that you will still have to do the lion's share of the work. Unless, of course you have a long sexual relationship with a viral celebrity, or a notorious business history, or the like. In those cases, the media will gladly step in a do your pitching for you. I recently read an article penned by a business colleague who has identified that one of the biggest mistakes you can make in marketing to younger generations (millennials and Xers) is to promote as if you're promoting. They supposedly hate to be pitched (unless it's Apple pitching them, of course...) to, so subtlety and discussion based upon the motivating interest in the content of your book will have to be carefully crafted or the trolls will cut you up and leave you bleeding.
Is this a stand-alone novel or part of a series?
Back to Santa Fe was initially intended to be the first book of a series, but it evolved into a stand-alone. There may be other books coming, as there are so many New Mexico stories swirling in my memory from our Trading days, I can't ever say never. Readers seem to want more from Sullivan, the main character, so I will have to comply, eventually.
What is the easiest part of the writing process? What is the hardest?
For me, the easiest part of writing is the research before the drafting begins, followed closely by the First Draft, which is a pleasure. Some books, the words flow out of my fingertips without even engaging my critical brain! I get the read the story as it tells itself. The hardest is the rewriting, of course. Over and over again. My first book took eleven rewrites, and then the editor found even more! There are always little bits you miss, and I've learned that while I can minimize mistakes, I can't completely eliminate them, so I aim for the big, ugly ones, first; then settle down to sifting the text for typos, and punctuation issues. It's no fun at all, but necessary to create something anyone else will want to read.
Do you have people read your drafts before you publish? How do you select beta readers?
I hang onto a core of six or so, trusted beta readers with additional help "on call" depending upon genre. Some of them are also writers and some of them are genre-readers. I don't usually provide full manuscripts to them all. Two or three chapters are usually good for movement/momentum and if they request more, I can always supply it! I pitch in-genre reading groups for reviewers, non-stop and those who respond to ARC offers and seem to "get" what I'm doing eventually end up betas. I also still engage with other writers in writing groups and some of my most trusted betas have been met thorough these groups.
Who designed the artwork for your cover? Or did you design it yourself?
Me, of course! The cover image is one I shot at dawn just outside of Gallup, NM headed East. It's a place my main character would have passed himself, several times. Cover and collateral graphic design for authors and small presses is the one sideline I retain in my semi-retirement. Mostly word-of-mouth connections refer new clients. I don't do any pre-made covers. Each is completely custom designed for the book in question. I'm not the cheapest designer out there, but I'm not too expensive either. Most of my clients are repeat projects.
That’s great! I wish I could design my own. I have tried and I just don’t have that talent. Gallup, NM? If you had asked me last month I wouldn’t have known where that was but I just drove through there. Very pretty country out there.
What brought about the idea for your book, Richard?
In the case of Back to Santa Fe, I wanted to give something back to a State and it's people who had given so much to me. My first book was also inspired by my Trading days, but in a circuitous way. IN our gallery, we found customers really hungry for the mystical, "woo-woo" side of American Indian Culture. They felt that each purchase should come with a big dose of ready-to-wear philosophy or shamanic lessons. We knew a lot of Native people from diverse Native cultures and locations. One thing they all shared though, was a need to protect the secrets of their religious culture from New Age shamans. Out of respect for their feelings I tried not to impart anything remotely feeling like religious insights along with our products. We did share known symbolism and cultural information when it was the subject of the artwork or craft, but there was always the customer who wanted more, and was willing to pay for it. We heard of several who ended up connected with sweat-lodge charlatans and the like, which made me begin thinking of why it was that our own, European heritage wasn't as satisfying somehow, for many folks. In my constant cultural and spiritual research and reading, it became very clear that many of our ancestors European spiritual concepts were very similar to American Indian traditional spirituality. In my first book, The Red Gate, which is the story of a reclusive Irish family discovering the ancient secrets binding them to the land, I tried to illustrate some of these concepts which, though hidden over the centuries of Christian thinking and education, still resound in our heritage. In other words, If you need to go into the woods and commune with the oak trees, you can do it as easily as a Druid-in-training as a wannabe American Indian.
Is there something you learned from writing your first book?
A book is never finished perfectly. You have to decide to stop writing it and let it go. Even now, just bringing it up suggests things I should correct or change in my mind, but I remind myself that the works in progress need that energy more.
I felt this way when I published my first book. I kept tweaking and editing, and eventually I just had to stop. I think you can always come up with something to change.
What advice would you give someone who is considering publishing? Should they consider traditional or self-publishing?
Finally, from my own trials, I would still suggest that anyone writing a book that they believe will work as a consumer product, should first attempt to find an agent. Once the book is presentable, of course. Literary Agents have resources within the industry that outsiders can't conceive of. They earn their percentage and then some. By all means, pitch publishers. If nothing else it will teach you a lot. I never found one. Don't ever be afraid to fail. Failure is the best teacher of all. Finally, if your work falls between the cracks or is not in a currently popular genre, and you are confident that readers will respond to it, self-publish it. Keep in mind, though that it needs to be as polished (or more so) as it would be if a publisher had invested in it. The stigma of self-publishing is lifting as the Gatekeepers roles are changing. Eventually I hope it won't matter at all and the quality of a books' content will be the only thing that will position it in the market niche it belongs in.
Any last words you’d like to share with us?
Thank you, Sarah, for indulging me. I can really go on and on, I know! If any of your readers would be interested in reading and reviewing any of my titles, they can submit a request to readerservicesatsailletales.com for an eBook copy in their choice of format, either ePub or Kindle. They should also mention your blog as a reference. Thanks again!
Richard
Thanks, Richard! Best of Luck on all your future endeavors! I appreciate you sharing with us today. Find about more about Richard and his books at the links below.
Happy Reading!!
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Richard-Sutton/e/B0031AVRJE
My blog and design site: http://www.sailletales.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/richard.sutton.583
Twitter: @RichardLSutton
My blog and design site: http://www.sailletales.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/richard.sutton.583
Twitter: @RichardLSutton
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