The Same Old Story

  

A fact of life, in this business: a short story will sometimes take on a life of its own, after it's first published. That doesn't always happen (I wish it did), and I've never been able to predict if or when it will, but sometimes you get lucky.

 

Here's an example. A little over ten years ago, I saw a piece on the TV news about a bank that no one thought could be robbed. I've forgotten what bank it was and where it was located, but I remember the report featured a bunch of security experts giving their reasons why that particular financial institution would probably always be safe from criminal behavior. And as far as I know, it was, and still is--but their long-range outcome didn't much matter to me. I mean, I continue to wish them well, but I already had what I wanted: I had an idea for a crime story.

As I have mentioned before at this blog, I always start the writing process by thinking about the plot, not the characters or the setting or the theme, and sometime over the next several days I worked out what I thought would be a cool little story with a bunch of reversals and surprises, involving a regular guy with a smart wife (I can relate directly to that) and what might happen if she mapped out a risky but interesting blueprint for a heist.

Flash forward several days. Having brainstormed the plotline until my head hurt, I came up with a title ("Molly's Plan"), sat down, and wrote the story--the writing itself usually goes pretty fast once I've figured out the structure and flow, etc.--and submitted it to Strand Magazine, where I'd had some modest success with stories that have twisty plots. Thankfully, after a wait of several weeks, editor Andrew Gulli accepted the story, and it was published in the Strand's next issue (June-September 2014). I was happy, the editor seemed happy, both of us hoped the readers who read it were happy, and, as folks around here like to say, life went ahead on.  

Then, around the end of that year, I received an email informing me that "Molly's Plan" had been chosen for the upcoming (2015) edition of Best American Mystery Stories. This was my first time for that honor, which had been sort of a bucket-list dream for me, and at the time I didn't realize just how much exposure and feedback and recognition those selected stores later receive. The Strand has a big circulation, but BAMS reached a lot of readers who otherwise might never have seen or known about Molly or her plan. Within a month following the anthology's release in September 2015, I was contacted--mostly via my website--by (1) people I'd never met, (2) old friends I hadn't heard from in years, (3) several high-school teachers and college instructors asking if they could use my story in their classes, and (4) an agent at CAA in Los Angeles inquiring about film/TV rights to the story. (I happily put her in touch with my agent, but alas, that project eventually went nowhere.)

I think a lot of this immediately-after-the-fact interest was because the guest editor for that edition of BAMS was James Patterson, who singled out my story for special praise in his introduction to the book. He said, "'Molly's Plan,' by John M. Floyd, details the formation and execution of a bank heist so real and intense that I find it impossible to believe the tale took up only a few pages. An imaginative twist at the end of the story makes it a truly satisfying read." And no, Mr. Patterson is not my long-lost uncle--he's just one of those kind and encouraging authors who are famous but have nice things to say about writers who aren't, and for that I'll always be grateful to him.

Shortly afterward, Kirkus Reviews said, in its coverage of BAMS 2015, "In 'Molly's Plan,' John M. Floyd maps out a nearly impossible bank robbery with a twist ending that's so ingenious it's tempting to root for the bad guys." And Publishers Weekly mentioned it as well: "A never-robbed bank practically invites criminals in John M. Floyd's amusing heist yarn, 'Molly's Plan.'" All these kind words were welcome and unexpected and humbling, and made me even more thankful that I'd happened to look up from eating ice cream in front of the TV long enough to watch that news broadcast about that unrobbable bank the previous year.

Back to my story-history analysis. The following year, 2016, a sixth collection of my short stories was published, called Dreamland. (A strange name for a mystery collection, I know, but the title is from a crime/fantasy story I sold to Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine.) The collection featured thirty of my previously published stories, including that one from AHMM, an Edgar-nominated story from the Strand, two Derringer winners (one from EQMM and one from the Strand), and "Molly's Plan." Signings for this book were especially fun for me because copies of the 2015 BAMS were still on display at most of the bookstores I signed in, and a surprising number of customers wound up buying my story collection because of that (I might've, in weak moments, happened to mention the BAMS inclusion to them). Many even bought both books, which was pleasing to the store managers--and bookstore managers rank high on the list of folks I like to please.

Anyhow, another year passed by, and around the time any excitement about "Molly's Plan" seemed to have faded away (I was the only one truly excited about it anyway), I was contacted by an editor from Moscow who had seen my story and wanted to reprint it in Inostranaya Literatura, Russia's leading literary journal. I again called my agent, put him in touch with the editor of the magazine, and this time all went well. I got paid, thankfully in dollars and not rubles, and the Russian translation of my story appeared in IL's January 2018 issue. I still can't read the story, but the issue's sitting here on my bookshelf. 

Also in 2017, while I was getting those emails from Russia with love, another unexpected honor came along. I received a kind note from a lady at the New York Public Library, informing me that "Molly's Plan" had been selected for inclusion in their permanent digital archive, and partly as a result of that, they wanted to acquire the rights to use the story in their newly-conceived Subway Library System project, which would allow subway passengers audio access to a number of short stories read by professional narrators. They even designed what I thought was an eye-catching cover for the story--the one with the blond lady shown at the top of this post--to put in their promotional materials. I don't know if the project ever got off the ground--or into the subway tunnels--but it sounded like a worthwhile effort and I was flattered that the library folks wanted to again resurrect Molly and her husband and their illegal activities.

Finally and most recently, a full ten years after this story was first published in the Strand, my friend and fellow SleuthSayer Barb Goffman chose it as her "pick for the week" in Issue #155 of Black Cat Weekly. Thank you once again, Barb, for doing that, and thus giving this story some new readers. I'm glad you liked it and I hope they do also.

How about you, my fellow writers? Do you have stories that you wrote and sold and possibly forgot about, only to see those stories pop up again in other places, months or even years later? I know many of you have, because I've seen those stories in your own collections or in best-of-the-year anthologies or awards. If you're one of those fortunate writers, please let me know, in the comments section, about your experiences. Did you ever have a feeling, early on, that those stories might go on to gain later recognition? Or did those opportunities appear out of the blue?

In closing . . . keep in mind, everyone, that every time you put your fingers to the keys, these stories of yours that might've begun as vague glimmers of ideas in the middle of the night could just possibly be around for a long, long time. It's the exception rather than the rule, but it can happen. 

Just another reason to keep doing what we're doing.

See you next Saturday.