Still Unpublished After All These Years

 

Many years ago, when I was in my 20s, I decided I’d like to write mystery novels. An avid fan of Agatha Christie, P.D. James, and the “Mystery” PBS series, I had no idea how to come up with a plot for a novel, and I somehow figured that with a mystery novel, the plot would write itself. Clearly, I was wrong. And the mystery novels—I cranked out four of them—went nowhere. Except as reams of paper stuffed into the back of a closet and onto floppy disks that I saved in a desk drawer.

 

The fourth mystery novel was the one I considered the most worthy. I opted to pull it out a decade or so later and revise it. In went the awful breakup with an ex-fiance a month before the wedding. Out went some outdated references to technology. And again, the manuscript went nowhere. Except onto more advanced forms of the floppy disk and back into the drawer.

 

Fast forward another dozen years. I’d had a nonfiction book published as well as the first of my middle grade novels and a couple of reference books. And still the mystery novel called to me. Surely something could be done with it? Out it came. This time I completely reworked it, updating it, adding more backstory, adding a stronger romance element. I even pulled out another one of the discarded manuscripts, ripped it to shreds, retained the bare minimum—the setting, a few of the characters—and turned it into a sequel to the first.

 

I’d like to say they’ve gone somewhere this time. But so far I must report that they haven’t. They’re out on submission, so we’ll see. Still, hope springs eternal. I’m going to revise another of the original manuscripts. I’m already thinking about the characters.

 

--Deborah Kalb