I am so honored to have Carrie Cross with us today. She is the kind of author I aspire to be. Carrie is the writer of the Skylar Robbin's Mysteries, and I have learned so much from her.
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
I have known I wanted to be a writer since I was a little kid. I devoured books from the time I learned to read as a very young child in Montessori school. Goodnight Moon transfixed me. I loved Dr. Seuss's silly rhymes, and then came the Happy Hollisters and Nancy Drew mysteries, followed by a passion for everything Judy Blume published. I wrote my first "book" in crayon at age four, Blackie the Little Black Dog and the Flying Washing Machine. That one, written and illustrated on big white sheets of coloring paper, was never published.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I like to close my eyes and imagine I am my protagonist: 13-year-old sleuth Skylar Robbins, investigating a hidden garden, a creepy old mansion, or a cave on the beach at midnight. What might I discover hidden inside a closet or behind the next boulder? Maybe a message written on the wall in invisible ink like in The Mystery of the Hidden Jewels, or magic seeds hidden in a dark cave like in The Mystery of Shadow Hills. Then I let my imagination lead me (Skylar) around the next bend, using my magnifying glass to see what clues to a mystery I can find.
Excerpt from Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of Shadow Hills
Kat brushed sand off her hands. “OK, we’re done here. Now, to the caves. We’re looking for the third one.”
I tried to keep my voice from shaking. “The third cave?” Another huge wave slammed the shore and I felt it vibrate beneath my feet. The water hissed and rumbled as it moved down the beach like a train escaping down a track.
“Yes,” she called over her shoulder. “The map shows a series of caves, and we need to look inside the third one for the gem seeds. We just have to be careful that the tide doesn’t come in while we’re inside a cave. Or we’ll get trapped.”
She walked faster. I followed with my heart pounding, imagining cold water flooding into a cave and drowning us. I wished that I had brought my pepper spray—or a life jacket. Something that would protect me. From what, I wasn’t sure. Looking back the way we’d come, I hoped to spot Kat’s house up on its stilts so I knew how to get back. But the coastline had curved and I couldn’t even see the staircase any longer.
“Sky,” Kat cried suddenly, pointing across the black sand. “Look. There they are.” I was more concerned about the rising tide, and looked out over the dark rumbling ocean. White spray flew up in the air as another huge wave crashed nearby. So loud it sounded like a refrigerator fell off a tall building and landed right next to us. I hurried after Kat as the water rushed forward. “This is it. Three caves.” Moonlight cast shadows behind the boulders that guarded the entrance. We darted around them and climbed under the rock arch.
The dark cave stunk of washed-up kelp, dank and rotten. I shuffled forward on the damp sand with my hands out in front of me like a sleepwalker, hoping I wouldn’t stumble over a rock or bash into a wall. I pulled out my flashlight and turned it on. As soon as its beam lit up the cave, heavy flies woke up, buzzing around the seaweed and bonking into my face. I ducked, swatting them away. Kat hurried past me and rushed toward the back of the cave, peering at the ground. Suddenly she cried, “Sky—here they are. I found the gem seeds!” Hidden between the boulders, disguised as wet pebbles, shining gem seeds winked up at us.
Bending down with my hands shaking and the flashlight beam bobbing, I picked up seedpods as fast as I could while the icy water crept closer and closer. I had a handful of pods when it became too late to stay another minute. A huge wave exploded on the beach and cold air poured into the cave. Seconds later seawater soaked through my tennis shoes, freezing my feet.
The tide was coming in. “Kat—we have to leave. Now!”
When did you write your first book and how old were you?
I continued to write "books" by hand in spiral notebooks all through junior high and high school, but didn't embark on my first actual novel until I was in my mid-twenties. This book, The Dark File, explored the seedy side of the modeling industry, something I had experienced first-hand. While I shopped it--unsuccessfully--I had the idea for a middle grade novel that combined elements of mystery with magic. Think, "Nancy Drew meets Zilpha Keatley Snyder's, The Changeling, in The Secret Garden, with a dash of Harry Potter thrown in." After many revisions suggested by my then agent, the manuscript became Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of Shadow Hills.
What do you like to do when you're not writing?
When I'm not writing, I enjoy hanging out at home with my cats and my husband Ed, who is an awesome graphic designer and created all of my book covers and designed my website. Shameless plug: www.mental-ward.com. I also love to cook, go boating, travel, have lunch and dinner out with friends (especially Thai and sushi), hike on cool sunny days, and most of all, read.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?
That waiting for agents to respond was a waste of time, and that self-publishing was the right route for me to take. Agents don't want authors to submit simultaneously to more than one of them. Understandably, they don't want to waste their time reading a manuscript, only to find that the author has signed with someone else. Each agent and publisher can take weeks or months to respond, so if you don't simultaneously submit, it can take months, even years, to get a traditional publishing deal. I had a top agent representing me on an early draft of my first MG mystery, then titled, Skylar Robbins: Secret Agent. The publishing companies he submitted it to gave me a lot of great feedback and constructive criticism, so I'm glad I had that experience. But had I stuck with this path, my first novel (self-published in 2013) might still be making the rounds!
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?
I have completed three full length Skylar Robbins mysteries, as well as a fantasy novella, Gwendolyn's Revenge. I like them all for different reasons, but if I had to pick a favorite, it would be Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of Shadow Hills. Skylar really grows from a shy junior
sleuth, stuck at her bullying cousin Gwendolyn's house for the summer, into a savvy detective by the time the book ends. I also enjoyed weaving in all the magical elements and witchcraft, and demonstrating how Skylar finally determines the truth about the spells she and her new friend Kat cast in a forgotten garden. Although there is no magic or witchcraft in The Mystery of Hidden Jewels or The Mystery of the Missing Heiress, fans of action-adventure will appreciate the dangerous situations Skylar gets herself into, and the perilous escapes she is forced to make in the sequels to The Mystery of Shadow Hills.
Excerpt from Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of The Missing Heiress
I counted rows of bricks, starting at the ground. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen!” My hands hit the last brick. Seventeenth up, thirty-seven over. 17 x 37. It stuck out a little further than the rest. I wiggled it.
It moved.
“Come on!” she shouted.
“One more second.” The brick got looser. I jiggled it back and forth, back and forth. It made a grinding noise, and finally slid out.
Heavy footsteps started down the alley toward us. The homeless man lumbered toward me and the drunk guy in the bandana staggered down the alley behind him.
“You’re nuts.” Morgan shoved my detective kit into my hands and took off running in the other direction.
Inside the hole where the brick had been, a dusty book rested.
Xandra Collins’s diary.
I dropped the brick and pulled it out. Prepared to run.
“Whatcha got there girlie?” a slow voice asked.
I’d waited too long.
No time to run. The homeless man was tall and dirty and angry. His matted hair was dotted with lint and pieces of dead leaves. One of his front teeth was missing and his battered clothes were smelly and wrinkled. The top of his left shoe was mangled and I could see four dirty toes. He stared at me like I was a piece of meat on a barbeque and he hadn’t eaten in a month.
“I got my diary out.” I spoke slowly. Like I wasn’t very bright. “See?” I riffled the dusty pages so he could see it for a second. He wasn’t interested in the diary. I slipped it into my backpack. I took a step backward and he took one toward me. The man had long legs and I knew if I tried to run I was dead. The drunk staggered down the alley toward us, then slouched against the wall right next to me and bent over like he was about to vomit.
The homeless man lurched forward and pointed a bony finger at my detective kit. “Gimme that.”
“It’s just girl scout stuff, Mister.” I unlatched the clasp and slowly opened the kit as if I wanted to show him what I had inside. I stuck my hand in and slowly pulled it out. “Nothing you’d—”
“AAAAAAGH!” he screamed, grabbing his eyes as the stream of pepper spray hit them and I took off running.
My lungs burned as I sped out of the alley and turned onto Seventh, tearing around the corner. I turned around once to see if he was behind me. Not yet. I had no idea when the bus
would come and I didn’t have a schedule. I’d depended on Morgan to lead me back. I ran down Seventh Street like I was trying to beat Ruth Wentz in a race where the winner lived and the loser died.
I sprinted into the C FF E H USE, scaring the waitress. “Gotta use your bathroom,” I said, heading for the back of the dinky restaurant. She didn’t answer me. I spotted a picture of a stick figure with a triangle for a skirt and darted through the door, slamming it behind me.
Inside the stall I was temporarily safe. Maybe. I pulled down my pants, sat on the toilet, and started to bawl. I was breathing so hard I scared myself. Leaning over and resting my elbows on my knees, I sobbed into my hands as my urine splashed into the bowl. I had to calm down so I could figure out how to get home. “Oh no,” I whispered, “What do I do?” I wanted to see my mom so badly I could barely stand it.
Morgan was long gone and she didn’t have a cell phone. Alexa had no way to rescue me; her parents and big brother were at work. If I called 911, my parents would find out where I’d gone, and I was forbidden to do anything like this without asking permission. I’d promised not to do anything dangerous again. I said I was going to a friend’s after school to work on a project for ACE. I hadn’t told them my friend lived in a shelter.
The homeless man who wanted my detective kit could be waiting outside right now. I was trapped in the bathroom of the C FF E H USE. I reached into my backpack and unzipped a pocket, my fingertips searching for a folded scrap of notebook paper. I pulled it out and spread it open.
SPY 555-3846
I didn’t have a choice. I yanked out my cell phone and called Daniel.
Do you have any suggestions to help others become better writers?
Yes: Read, read, read! Read everything you can get your hands on that's written by talented authors who write in your genre. Take notes on how they develop their characters, create suspense, use cliffhangers at the end of chapters to keep the reader turning the pages, and create plot twists to build up to their climaxes. Then incorporate these skills into your own writing. There are also a lot of plot-crafting tips on my website under the tab, "Advice for Aspiring Writers." http://www.skylarrobbins.com/category/carrie-crosss-advice-to-aspiring-writers/
What do you think makes a good story?
An intriguing main character who goes through a life change during the progression of the plot is a must. Scenery has to be described realistically and be representative of the location of the story. Secondary characters need to be well flushed-out and their personalities developed enough that they, too, could become main characters. Finally, the author needs to build suspense, and each scene must have purpose and lead toward the climax. I learned a lot of that from the teaching of my father's favorite author, Ayn Rand.
As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?
I loved going to the library and ordering books through Scholastic Book Club as a child, and in elementary school my girlfriend and I used to play, "Song and Book Writing Company." A spare bedroom in my house was the "library" that held all my books, which we would stamp and pretend to check out. A cupboard full of paper was the "printer," where we would pretend to run off copies of the songs we'd written. I guess I knew from a young age that I wanted a career that had to do with books and writing, although by the time I went to college my major was Speech Communication. I went into sales and marketing while I continued to write for pleasure.
During one of my visits to my parents' house several years ago, my father played some old cassette recordings he had made, "interviewing me" in my early teens. On one of these old tapes I admitted, "Some day, I think I'd like to become a writer."
How did you come up with the idea for Gwendolyn's Revenge?
Years ago, I had written a rough draft of a sequel to Shadow Hills that I wasn't happy with. However, it had some interesting scenes that I didn't want to just toss out. I liked the idea of Skylar Robbins's mean cousin Gwendolyn learning her lesson and becoming a better person, and I wanted to incorporate more magic and wizardry into a new story along with some humor. So, Gwendolyn's Revenge became a fantasy novella, and a mini-sequel to Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of Shadow Hills. Although the true sequel where Skylar continues to improve as a teen detective is The Mystery of the Hidden Jewels. Her adventures continue from there in The Mystery of the Missing Heiress, and I am currently at work on Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of the Island Idol.
Thank you so much, Carrie. I have enjoyed learning more about you and your books, but mostly, I have learned so much from your link for aspiring writers. I really appreciate you taking the time to give us a wonderful interview, and I'm so excited to get to read your books.
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