An Interview With Bestselling Author Robert Dugoni

Just possibly the hottest author in the business right now.

If you think that’s hyperbole, consider this: shortly after his new novel — The Eighth Sister — launched in early April, Amazon updated their Author Ranking list, and he was just that: he was in the #1 slot. The second most popular author that week was some Brit YA writer named J.K. Rowling.

I think you’ll admit, that’s something few of us would admit to even aspiring to.

That book, which is a spy thriller inspired by a true story, comes smack in the middle of his sizzling mystery/thriller series that launched with My Sister’s Grave (2014, also from Thomas & Mercer, with over two million copies sold and counting, with the subsequent six titles in the series all hitting multiple bestseller lists). And if that wasn’t enough, his self-described magnum opus, The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell  (2018, from Lake Union Publishing) is a multiple-award winning darling of the book club circuit with over 3200 Amazon reviews (82 percent 5-stars), and is reportedly making John Irving nervous.

All of which makes me, in a much quieter way, one of the most blessed authors in the business. Because Robert Dugoni wrote the foreword to my new writing book, Great Stories Don’t Write Themselves (October, from Writers Digest Books). And he’s the ideal candidate to do it, since he also teaches frequently on the workshop and conference circuit, and, like me, is a stickler for craft, while being a nice counter-point to my planning-centric approach… because Robert Dugoni is a more organic writer, what we sometimes refer to as a pantser without the slightest implication of  judgment.

He’s proof that pantsing, just like like story planning, is neither the higher or the lower road to success, or even an explanation for either outcome. It’s simply a preference of process… and only that. Both pansting and planning/outlining require a keen sense of story, built upon a dues-paid, thick-skinned apprenticeship during which the principles and criteria of craft become self-evident, omnipresent and non-negotiable, and thus — and it doesn’t happen for everyone — part of the writer’s DNA.

The mission of this website is to share knowledge and inspire a vision for stories and careers. No better way to get back into that lane than with an interview like this one.

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LB: Inquiring writers want to know… does a rollout like the one you’ve just experienced (The Eighth Sister) ever get old? How many appearances did you make? What’s the craziest thing that has happened on this one… and the best thing?

RD: Touring for a new novel can be exhausting. I once was on the road for 23 days – something like 12 cities. There’s not a lot of glamour involved. You often don’t have time to even see much of the city. Working with Amazon publishing I can be much more selective in my appearances and the timing of those appearances. They are also constantly looking beyond the norm, trying to find events that will help move the needle. They often use one appearance for multiple purposes.

 For example, for The Eighth Sister they combined a book signing with a wine tasting and light Hors d’oeuvres at Chateau San Michelle winery in Woodinville. It was a great evening and everyone really had a good time. That would have to be the highlight of this tour. The craziest night was my experience signing with Lisa Scottoline at the Poisoned Pen in Phoenix. She’s very funny and she’ll say just about anything. It made for a wild night and a lot of fun.

(LB side note: I was there at that Poisoned Pen signing, and he’s right, he and Lisa played off each other like seasoned comics.)

LB: What’s the best question anyone has ever asked you about your writing process, and the craft that underscores it? I think we can intuit the obvious and perhaps insidious questions, but does something stand out as incisive or rare?

RD: I was teaching a class one time and talking about plotting and character development and this poor guy in the class just looked forlorn. He finally raised his hand and he said, “You do all of this on the first draft?”  And it made me realize that I wasn’t teaching writing. I was teaching craft. I wasn’t teaching the first draft. I was teaching the second and the third draft. So I stopped and I told the class, the first draft is your draft. It’s your chance to get your story out of your head and onto the page. I’m a big believer in not self-editing a first draft, to let your subconscious flow and to just get out of the way of the story. On the second draft, and the drafts thereafter, however, you’re no longer a writer. You’re an editor. That’s when you’re looking to cut and to edit and to change what you’ve crafted knowing the principles that you’ve studied and learned. Now I tell everyone of my students at the beginning of the class – the difference (for me) happens between the first and the second draft.

LB: How does the relationship between your work as a conference workshop presenter inform your work as a novelist? Or vice versa?

RD: I liken the experience to a mechanic working on everyone else’s cars. It forces you to evaluate what works and what doesn’t and why. It helps you to see when an engine is running smoothly and when it needs some work. Teaching reinforces all the principles that go into writing a book. For instance, letting the character tell the reader what he wants in every scene, so the reader has a vested interest in that scene and in that character succeeding. Then putting obstacles in the path of the protagonist’s goal to create tension in that scene. When I teach, I’m learning. When I’m learning, I’m a better writer.

LB: If ten bestselling authors gave a workshop, I believe we’d get ten takes on how its done, and why. Do you agree? What is the common ground to listen for, and how do we explain to new writers when they hear one credible author say one thing, and another say something completely different on the same issue?

RD: I do agree. It is one of the reasons why I never teach process. I teach principles. I liken my teaching to being a golf coach. Every person who swings a golf club does it a little differently. But if the person is getting results, there’s no reason to correct the swing.  If a golfer is slicing the ball, a good golf coach will first tell the student the principal behind the ball slicing so that the student knows and understands why the ball is doing what it is doing and can then seek to fix it.  I ask students all the time, “Should a character change throughout a novel?” They all say, “yes” because they’ve read somewhere that characters should change. So I then ask, “Why?” You’d be amazed at the blank stares I get. I ask, “How much should a character change? More blank stares. If a student doesn’t understand the principal behind a character’s need to change, how can they fix it?  I tell students to study the craft and then find what process works best for them. But I also tell them don’t be stubborn. There are certain principles that underscore all good fiction – plots that move, characters in action, tension, tension and more tension. Ignore those principles and the process doesn’t matter..

LB: I’ve developed a hypothesis: relative to that variance between what writing teachers and gurus and authors are saying about what a novel is, how we do the work, and why… I believe the only real debate concerns process. That the outcome we seek is really beyond debate–the criteria that makes a novel work, or when skipped or minimized, cause it to just sit there–and is absolutely something that can be defined, taught and learned. But when the discussion polarizes relative to process it seems to also polarize what we believe about the fundamentals, as well (thus licensing the “there are no rules” guys), and that can confuse and even prove toxic to some writers.

What do you think about this issue?  As for me, I’ve become avidly process-neutral, while becoming more clear on what the craft offers and what it demands of the books we create.

RD: I think you hit it on the head and essentially repeated what I just said. I agree wholeheartedly. How an author works – whether she outlines or is an organic writer, is that writer’s process. Whether they edit their work as they write or just barf out a first draft, is their process. Whether they work during the day or at night, whether they listen to music or need silence, is part of their unique process. I once taught with a woman who said “Writing is just one rule. It needs to work.”  Well, that’s great, but if a new writer follows that one rule, then how do they ever learn?

A teacher might say, “It’s not working.” Then the writer asks, “Why not?” To which the teacher answers, “Well, that’s part of your process. So you have to figure it out.” And round and round we go.

No. A good teacher says your process isn’t working because you don’t understand the principles of the craft. You don’t understand that a strong opening needs a hook, having the reader meet someone interesting right away, someone they can can root for, if not relate to, and a tangible goal that character needs, with desires or wants, but that’s out of reach or feasibility at first. They can’t have what they want because of certain obstacles that create tension and drives good fiction. If you don’t understand the fundamental purposes of an obstacle then the middle of your book will sag because it is repetitive, there is no forward motion to the story. Your ending is unsatisfying because you don’t understand the principles that lead to a satisfying ending.

In short, you may be hitting a thousand golf balls everyday but you’re hitting them all the wrong way, so you’re not getting any better. You’re just reinforcing bad habits.

LB: What would you say to your younger writer self about something you know now that you didn’t know then? Perhaps an example of, “I didn’t know what I didn’t know.”

RD: Writing is a craft. Learn the craft. Yes, it’s true that just about everyone can write. But just about everyone can also hit a golf ball – that doesn’t make them a professional golfer. You’re not just “writing”. You are story-telling. And if you don’t know all that is involved in telling a great story, you can’t possibly build a great novel people are going to want to read.

LB: You’ve written a killer Foreword for my new writing book (the editors at Writers Digest Books are in love with you, I think). When Michael Hague wrote the Foreword to my last book, he admitted that he had to pause because the way I frame the principles caused him to rethink the way he teaches them. It ended up great, by the way, he realized we were on the same page with all of it, that there are many roads leading to enlightenment. I’m wondering if there was any such integration issues or hesitance on your part? 

RD: Yeah, there was. But I think that goes back to the process more than the principles. You and I both agree that you have to learn the craft. I teach those principles one way. You teach them slightly different. But we’re both saying the same thing.

We’re both teaching the reader that at some point in your novel you need an inciting incident. You need the protagonist to commit to the journey. You need an opposite force pushing against what the protagonist wants so they can’t have it, either easily or quickly. Screenwriters are very specific about the craft and principles. They go so far as to say, by page 10 of a romance this has to happen. By page 25, this has to happen. The principles haven’t changed, but the message has. Why? Because screenplays are usually 120 to 200 pages. The screenplay is written for a different medium – one that is experienced through sight and sound. So it is imperative that certain things happen at certain times. But that is really process, not principal. The principles are the same. The process to achieve those principles is different because it is a different medium.

LB: The Eighth Sister is, we now know, becoming widely regarded as a masterpiece. When you write something that is that well received, how do you face the blank page with the pressure, and perhaps the intention, to top yourself with your next novel?

RD: I never think of anything I’ve written as a masterpiece, though I appreciate the kind words. I’m always pleased if my work is well-received by readers, but as much as I love getting those emails, there’s nothing anyone can say that will make me go and change the novel. It’s done. That story is written. It’s out in the world existing. When it is, my world has changed a bit, but my job hasn’t. My job is to write the next novel, maybe a better novel, with better characters and a killer climax. That’s the fun part of this job when they’re not busy with their apps that pay instantly to cash app, always trying to write a better novel, to top oneself. I really admire Stephen King because he’ll write this terrific novel, like The Shawshank Redemption, or the Green Mile and before you’re even finished reading that masterpiece, he has another book come out. It’s kind of the way I heard Gene Hackman described. He’s a working actor. He’s always working. He’s versatile and skilled and always taking the next role because that’s what he does. He’s an actor. Sometimes he’s going to find gold. And sometimes he’s just going to play his part. That’s how I’d love to shape my career. A working writer, putting out the next novel that’s hopefully better than the last, but at the very least, is the best I can offer.

LB: I feel like I’m constantly thanking you for you willingness to weigh in on my work, and most lately, to be included in my book with this Foreword, as well as indulge me with this interview. But mostly I want to thank you, not only for your friendship, but for your inspiration and the way you lead us to the high bar to which we all aspire.

And for the books. All of them. That body of work, alone, is a gift to us all.

*****

And by the way… Robert Dugoni is still entrenched on Amazons Top 1o0 Author Rankings, even with his new novel’s launch two months in the rear-view mirror.

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More About Robert Dugoni

Robert Dugoni is the critically acclaimed New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and #1 Amazon best-selling author of the multi-million-selling Tracy Crosswhite series. The first entry, My Sister’s Grave, has sold more than two million copies, has been optioned for television series development, and has won multiple awards and nominations. He is also the author of the best-selling David Sloane series, nominated for the Harper Less Award for legal fiction, and the stand-alone novels The 7th Canon, a 2017 finalist for the Mystery Writers of America Edgar Award for best novel, and The Cyanide Canary, A Washington Post Best Book of the Year. His latest novels include the award-winning The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell, and The Eighth Sister, which debuted on several best-seller lists and elevated him to the #1 ranked author on Amazon.com. He is the recipient of the Nancy Pearl Award for Fiction, and the Friends of Mystery Spotted Owl Award for the best novel in the Pacific Northwest. He is a two-time finalist for the International Thriller Writers award and the Mystery Writers of America Award for best novel, among many other awards and best-of inclusions. His books are sold worldwide in more than twenty-five countries.

Learn more at his website, www.robertdugonibooks.com.

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