This week we’re honored to share interview with our friend Kayne Milhomme. Kayne has experience with literary agents, and editors, and in self-publishing. His historical mystery, Grace and Disgrace, came about via a collaborative process. We asked him to talk about that with us.

 

Congrats on your debut, Grace and Disgrace. Plug your book, dude!

Thanks! First off, it is my debut novel (as noted above). I hope it is as fun to read as it was to write. So far it’s getting great reviews from readers on Amazon and Goodreads, which is very encouraging.

Below is a brief blurb. Interested in more? Check it out!

In their college days, three friends created the Sleuthhound Club to solve local mysteries and crimes, but only one of the friends turned that early hobby into a career. Inspector Touhay of the Royal Irish Constabulary has seen a lot of action in his line of business, including the infamous crime that ruined his reputation—the amazing theft of the Templar Diamond.

Now six years after the theft, new evidence comes to light as key players (including Touhay) receive mysterious invitations to “The Chase” for the missing Diamond. And who better to help Tuohay find the missing artifact than the members of his old club?

Danger, betrayal, puzzles and ploys abound in this turn-of-the-century mystery novel, which will keep you guessing up until the very end.

 

You and your father have an interesting writing partnership. Can you describe how it works?

First, I’d like to give a little background about my dad. He has always had a passion for history, and his passion is infectious. When he discovers something that interests him, he’ll dig—and dig, and dig—until he has uncovered nearly every stone connected to his discovery. Then he shares it—on his history blog, in the local newspaper, Facebook updates (with links to his blog and/or newspaper articles), or on long walks in the woods—you name it. His research typically involves uncovering the stories of remarkable individuals that the annals of history have somehow missed, to bring their stories to life—and through that effort, bring the time period and their settings to life as well, truly recreating the moment in history.

Thus, when it comes to a partnership, my dad foremost brings motivation and a source of positive energy that casts a warm ray of sunlight on my writing endeavors. In the earliest stages of a project, his excitement at the future prospect is fuel for the work ahead. Together we will brainstorm ideas, and then our paths will diverge—my dad will begin researching historical elements of the ideas (ranging from to the very specific to the very broad), as I begin some writing samples. Typically, new ideas sprout from both the research and some of the writing samples, and after several iterations we are ready for launch (i.e. to begin chapter writing). As the chapter writing unfolds, my dad acts as reviewer, reading each chapter after completion, and providing feedback. Concurrently, he is providing additional research on items for future chapters, as they are identified. As we move further into the novel, I typically get a firmer grasp on the plot (and by this point the character voices are usually defined), and my dad’s role switches gears to true readership—and he becomes the first reader to try to figure out the mystery that he had a hand in creating the first elements of, but I have finalized in my later stage plot development.

So the partnership is very fluid, with partnered brainstorming and plot development in the early stages, research performed by my dad throughout the novel, writing performed by me and reviewing from a reader’s perspective with some line editing as well from my dad, and then a full assessment after the first draft is completed. It’s a wonderful partnership!

 

How did your writing partnership begin?

Several years ago I was working on a few ‘high fantasy’ novels, and as fun as they were to write, I couldn’t quite get them to connect for me into something meaningful. I enjoyed the writing, but didn’t know what I was trying to write about—other than entertainment, what was the theme? The purpose? And this void, so to speak, had nothing to do with the fantasy genre, it was simply driven by my inability to find meaning in my own work. During this timeframe, my dad and I went for one of our biannual walks in the woods by the lake at my parents’ house. During that walk, my dad talked about a research project he had been working on—a turn-of-the-century priest who had supposedly committed suicide under mysterious circumstances, and, based on my dad’s research, had been a real rabble rouser in the Catholic Church, to the point of excommunication and taking the archbishop to court (an unheard of event in turn-of-the-century Boston). The long and short it was that I became infatuated with the story, and asked my dad if we could create a fictional account of the events as a historical mystery novel. He enthusiastically agreed and off we went.

 

What are some of the challenges you’ve run into collaborating in a creative endeavor?

The main challenge that I run into in this creative collaboration is holding up my end of the bargain in a consistent manner. As a writer, there are times when I hit the doldrums—less so when a novel is underway, but certainly during the early stages. I liken it to having a training partner for a marathon—in order for you both to succeed, you both have to work at it on a consistent basis, with little to no room for ‘slacking’. The good news is that the exact challenge that makes this collaboration work—due to the fact that I feel a need to ensure I am holding up my end of the bargain, I will find myself writing in a more focused and consistent manner than I would alone. Also, and perhaps it is the nature of our relationship, I have absolutely no issues with sharing creative ideas and brainstorming with my dad. Others have given me feedback (typically these are individuals that do not partner on these types of endeavors on a consistent basis) that they have trouble collaborating on creative endeavors, because creativity is something that is precious to them as individuals, and they have a hard time choosing one individual’s idea over another’s. I think that obstacle somewhat outrageous, in fact, and while creative collaborations are not for everyone or for every art form, it can be an enormously beneficial enterprise that is likely underutilized.

 

 

Are you a planner or a pantser? What about what you look for in a partner: is it ‘birds of a feather’ or ‘opposites attract’?

If it’s possible to put myself somewhere in the middle, I would. I do not plot out a novel in significant detail prior to beginning. That said, I do identify the critical plot points, especially those that are important to the mystery. I also will capture the nature and motive of the crime, the red herrings, the hard evidence, and an idea of how all of that gets revealed—but in very general terms. What truly drives the story for me is character, and once the character(s) have “come to life,” I let them take me on the ride as I sit in the back and occasionally give directions.

In a partner, it is again somewhere in the middle. I imagine each partnership is likely different in terms of the strengths that the individuals draw upon, and in some cases it is ‘birds of a feather,’ and in others ‘opposites attract.’ In our partnership, is more along the lines of complementary skill sets (a writer, a researcher—both idea generators), a unified vision (write an entertaining, meaningful novel), and always having fun while doing it. The third one is key, because writing is a passion of mine, and research is a passion for my dad—if we are not having fun at our passions, something’s gone wrong.

 

Anything else you’d like to teach us about collaborative writing?

Be open minded about it. Like I stated in an answer to one of the above questions, I believe many ‘creative types’, especially writers, journey through their creative life solo. For some, that’s the way it has to be, and the way they are at their best. But for others, collaboration could open doors that they never imagined. That said, it has to be a true partnership to work. If you don’t have patience (and I know some creative types that do not), and if you are entirely unreliable (also know some creative types like this), you may need to work on those foundational principles before delving into a partnership—because there is a level of expectation that comes with a good partnership, and you only do it justice if you are willing to perform at that level of requirement.

 

We’ve mentioned our good friend Reggie Lutz several times on this blog, and I’m sure you’ve seen her comments. Reggie has published many solo works (poetry, short stories, and a novel) through both traditional and self-publishing, and has also dabbled in collaboration in the past. Her future writing plans include a deeper dive into the world of coauthorship, so we decided to talk to her about her process.

 

Congratulations on publishing Aliens in the Soda Machine, and Haunted. Boost your signal here!

Thank you! Get your Aliens here: Amazon or here: Smashwords 

Get Haunted here: Amazon or here: Smashwords

 

You collaborated with Jen, on a somewhat… unusual project. How would you describe that experience?

That project was one of the most fun writing experiences I have ever had. Jen and I were sort of challenging each other with writing prompts and somehow ended up sharing characters. After a certain amount of time we realized we had enough rough material to fill a book, and started to shape a plot around those. The result is wild, weird, and hilarious. If there is any muscle tone left in my abs, I have to attribute that to all the laughing we did while working on the Saa of Hieronymus Warhol.

Jen is extremely organized and focused, even as she was making me laugh so hard I cried. So it was really great to share the reins with her on that project. Did I mention the laughing? I also learned a lot about collaboration with that project. As someone who usually writes without a collaborative partner I learned how to let go of a certain amount of control, and that when you work with someone you trust that can be a relief rather than a source of stress.

 

What can you say about working with your current collaboration partner, Devon Miller?

Working with Devon has been awesome so far. We spent some time brainstorming, then exploring the world via prose until we struck the right note. From there we made decisions about what the story was about, how the plot was going to move. She lives in another state, so we had weekly phone meetings during which we went over the previous week’s work, and then we assigned each other the next scene that needed to be written. Because we were so organized in our approach, we were able to skip around chronologically while we were creating the first draft. This aided in productivity a great deal, as it allowed for one of us to work on one story arc while the other fleshed out a different arc.

One thing we did before going in was talk about how we wanted to work, what the parameters were going to be, who would take charge of which task. This was easy, because Devon and I have been friends for much longer than we’ve been writing together so trust was established well before we took on this project. One thing that was really surprising was the speed with which the first draft of the first book came together. It only took three months. We’re in editing stages, currently, and are set to start work on the second book late September.

 

How does writing solo differ, for you, from working with a partner? How is the process impacted, in your specific experience? Does it influence subject matter, theme, tone?

The biggest difference in terms of process is that when collaborating, you are not the only one making decisions, and some decisions that you aren’t used to making before getting to the work have to be made before you start. Devon and I worked with a loose outline in order to enable some organic growth of story within certain parameters, but we had to understand who our characters were, and what was crucial in this case was having a shared understanding of the worldbuilding, how the society in the story operates, what the geography is like. It isn’t that you don’t think about those things with solo work, but when working alone, you can kind of wing it and fix it later if it doesn’t work. If you are writing genre fiction with a partner, and you decide the sky is always gray, but your writing partner decides the sky is always orange then those things will come into conflict with each other pretty quickly. A small detail like that can have big implications later. A gray sky might mean the world is moist and there is drama around certain kinds of infections, an orange sky might suggest a desert planet and therefore a lack of water would be a bigger issue. (Assuming we’re talking mammals.)

Working with a collaborator absolutely influences subject matter because you both have to be invested in what plays out on the page. So you’ll look for shared areas of interest, ideas that are exciting to you both and then within that you’ll look for opportunities to play to each other’s strengths. Devon loves horror fiction so we looked for places in the story to use that. I like to blend unexpected elements to create something offbeat but with an emotional undertone so we developed other areas of story to facilitate that.

During the course of a first draft there will inevitably be places where the tone does not match. Part of our editing process is to make sure that it does, and that the tone we choose is what best suits the story. What was a relief and a happy surprise for Devon and I is that the way we write individually works well together, we often find we’re on the same page about things like tone before we’ve even discussed it.

 

Anything else you’d like to teach us about collaborative writing?

That’s an intimidating question coming from the masters of collaboration! I will say that I learned a lot about the benefits of plotting and planning a given work through collaboration, but that learning to leave room or when to be flexible in a writing partnership is as important to a collaboration as having a plan in place. That flexibility applies to everything in the process, from unexpected plot deviations that work better than the original plan, to having to cancel meetings because life, sometimes, intervenes. The second thing is that everything on the page from your favorite character to your most beloved sentence is on the table for discussion. When you work with someone you know well and trust, it is easy to be open in this way. But that openness is crucial to arrive at the best possible version of story.

 

What have you learned from us?

So many tangible and intangible things about writing it’s really hard to figure out where to start. One of the things that I always admired about your collaborative process was that you both were always really committed and disciplined about the work and organized in your approach to it. I learned a lot about the value of that and I’ve applied them.

The critique group you run taught me a million things that all speak to one concrete truth about what one absolutely must do when writing fiction, and that is to do everything in order to serve the story.