Murder on my Mind
By Ron Lovell
[Article published in Oregon Stater, the alumni magazine of Oregon State University, December 2002 issue]
One of the reasons I took early retirement from the Oregon State
faculty in 1995 was my desire to change the kind of writing I
did. (That and the fact that my department, journalism, had been
closed in 1992.) After years of writing magazine articles as a
journalist in Los Angeles, Houston, Denver, and New York, I was
tired of that. I could become a free-lancer, but I had tried that
before and it was tough to get editors of national publication
interested in what I wanted to write about here in “Ory-gone.”
I could continue to write textbooks, 13 of them sitting on my
shelves with me as either author or co-author. But I was tired
of that too, what with the need to stick to all those pesky facts!
No, what I wanted most was a change of pace.
I did not have to cast about for very long to find what I wanted
to do. I would turn myself into a mystery writer. Although I had
not written fiction since college, I plunged ahead, using little
more than my experience as a reader of hundreds of mysteries.
On January 1, 1996, I sat down at my desk and wrote the first
page of my first mystery on a yellow legal pad using a #3 pencil.
(The date was for symbolic reasons—starting the new year by writing
would assure me a successful year at doing the same? Hokey, but
it worked for me. The pad and the pencil were because I was then
a terrible computer-phobe. My e-mail address is not “penman” for
nothing!)
Thus launched onto my new writing career, I worked mornings for
eight months writing and revising the manuscript that became a
mystery novel called “Dead Whales Tell No Tales” (about the murder
of a marine biologist during a whaling conference on the coast).
Little did I know that writing what I considered an acceptable
work of fiction had little to do with finding a publisher, getting
it produced, and then selling it. The hard work was only beginning.
A line often used in mysteries of the 1930s fitted my naivete
well: “Had he but known.”
By August, I had completed three drafts of “Dead Whales” and felt
ready to try to sell it. At various times in my career as a journalist
and professor, I had tried to get an agent—always without success.
This time, however, I was lucky. I signed a contract with the
first one I contacted. I knew of her through a writers group I
joined in Portland. After we met and she read the manuscript,
she signed me up.
With the great burden of contacting publishers out of the way,
I returned to my yellow legal pads and let my agent go to work.
Over the next few months, she made suggestions for changes. She
helped me a great deal to get out of my old habits as a magazine
writer and textbook author.
When I first thought about trying to become a mystery novelist,
I decided that all of my books would be part of a series. At the
suggestion of my mother, I named my protagonist Thomas Martindale,
after our illustrious English ancestor, my great great grandfather.
He was not a detective at Scotland Yard searching for Jack the
Ripper but a member of the regiment that guarded Queen Victoria.
He was one of those guys wearing plumed helmets and shiny breastplates
who ride behind the queen’s carriage to this day. We picked the
name for good luck and as a point of pride in our family.
From the start of my new writing venture, I followed the advice
I had given to hundreds of students over the years to “write what
you know.” In this case, what I knew was not how to solve crimes
but to use investigative techniques to find facts. I also had
24 years of knowledge about how the academic world functions.
It is a world with its own odd and arcane rituals. It is a world
where the smallest things can be blown all out of proportion by
people who are used to dealing in minutiae. I know a lot about
campus politics and the strange ways of academe, where the stakes
may often be low but the way people act can be savage, petty,
and hurtful. Okay, so they don’t often lead to murder, but this
is fiction! I decided to have my character teach at a large university
in a town like Corvallis and spend some of his time on the Oregon
Coast where I have lived for 21 years.
With my agent submitting “Dead Whales” to New York publishers,
I continued to write other novels in the series. Next to roll
off my yellow pads were “Lights, Camera… Murder” (in which Martindale
solves the death of a student against the backdrop of the filming
of recruiting ads on campus and an athletic grading scandal) and
“Murder at Yaquina Head” (where the hero looks for the killer
of an old friend using clues from her World War II memoir).
As I stuck to my writing for the next few years, my agent submitted
“Dead Whales” to 13 publishers with no luck. I revised “Lights,
Camera…Murder” and got “Yaquina Head” ready to go. She submitted
it to three publishers before throwing in the towel. (I did not
give her the fourth manuscript, “Murder Below Zero,” in which
Martindale goes to the Arctic as a science writer on a research
expedition.)
As writers everywhere learn quickly, rejection letters never tell
you anything helpful. “Does not fit our needs at this time” or
“I didn’t like the voice” was the closest we got to anything concrete.
And, of course, the clock was ticking and chance I had to realize
my dream getting slimmer and slimmer. Months and months went by
without hearing anything from any body. At such times, I wondered—why
am I doing this? But my commitment to make this work overcame
my doubts. Fortunately, I was not depending on the money from
a book sale to buy food and pay my mortgage.
By January 2001, I decided I had to take matters into my own hands.
I found the names of six small presses on the Internet publishing
mysteries. I sent them the required sample chapters (usually up
to the first murder), a detailed outline, and a prospectus discussing
Martindale, the series and the books that go in it. For variety,
I sent out the three books randomly, not paying much attention
to who got what book idea.
By May of 2001, I had heard from five houses, all with rejections.
The owner of the sixth, Sunstone Press of Santa Fe, New Mexico
(www.sunstonepress.com), liked the outline and chapters of “Murder
at Yaquina Head” and asked to see the complete manuscript. This
had only happened to me once before and it meant the publisher
was seriously interested. A week later I got an offer and signed
a contract. The Thomas Martindale Mysteries were launched.
Since the book was published on April 15, 2002, I have had a wonderful
time promoting it. Because the publisher is small, I have had
to do a lot of this work myself. It is very gratifying when people
like what you have written and talk about the characters as if
they were real. It is fun to give readings and talk to people
in the line as they ask you to sign copies for family and friends.
I had my best reading and signing in the Memorial Union in May
where 60 friends, colleagues, and former students gave me a wonderful
launch put on by the OSU Bookstore. I read and signed at the Yaquina
Head lighthouse itself thanks to the Bureau of Land Management
manager there—the first time something like that had been allowed.
The period since has found me doing one or two events a month.
The book sold out of its first printing in six weeks; a second
printing followed. It has also been well reviewed. (Earlier this
year, I signed a contract with Sunstone to publish “Dead Whales
Tell No Tales” in April 2003.)
In February 2002, I signed a contract with a Hollywood producer
who optioned “Yaquina Head” for two years. He must now try to
make a deal with the production company or cable television network
that would actually produce the movie. And I make no money unless
than happens. I can see it now: me wearing lots of gold chains,
a diamond pinky ring, and a black Armani suit, pulling up to the
lighthouse in a stretch limousine, a blond production assistant
on each arm. (Oh, sorry. I guess that is too much of a suspension
of reality even for fiction!)
The biggest professional change for me in writing these novels
has been the use of first person. As a journalist I never wrote
in first person. I also advised my students to keep themselves
out of what they wrote. But I decided to have Martindale tell
each story in his own, slightly sarcastic voice. That has worked
well but it has meant that everything has to take place in front
of him. I also learned the truth of what I had always heard about
fiction writing: characters do take on a life of their own and,
at least in part, carry the story by what they do. One last thing
about my approach: I try to give my readers information—about
whales or lighthouses or teaching in a university or traveling
to the Arctic—beyond figuring out who-dun-it.
My new career as a mystery writer has been shaped by everything
in my life—the experiences and people who have taught me much
of what I know. My years at Oregon State University were among
the most pleasant and rewarding of my life. It is a magical place
that stays with you long after you have left it. I owe it and
those of you who I had the privilege to know and teach a great
deal.