I met Nina Simon shortly after I read her beautiful, heartfelt debut, Mother Daughter Murder Night. If there were ever an author whose persona perfectly captures the verve of her work, it’s Nina.
Nina’s all natural, almost crunchy in a Santa Cruz kind of way. She speaks from the gut and doesn’t pull any punches. Like the best characters, Nina has one hell of a backstory. She’s lived nine lives already, and every one of them went into the writing of Mother Daughter Murder Night.
I was lucky enough to snag an advanced copy of The Maid a couple years back. Reading Nina’s debut, I got all the same feels as when I first read Nita Prose’s mega-bestselling mystery, plus a few more tugs on the heartstrings.
If you haven’t heard of Nina Simon before, I’ve got a feeling you’re about to, and I’m honored to make the introduction.
Eli Cranor: You’ve got quite the resumé. How’d you get into writing crime novels?
Nina Simon: I never expected to write a novel, let alone a murder mystery. I’ve been writing all my life—poems, journal articles, nonfiction books, museum exhibit labels—but not fiction.
Then my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in late 2020. It changed my life. I quit my job as a nonprofit CEO so I could help care for her. We were lucky to be together, but it was a stressful, scary time. I started the project that would become Mother-Daughter Murder Night as a shared creative escape from the drudgery and terror of cancer. I based the story on our own experiences, and we brainstormed our way through hospital waiting rooms and chemo clinics. I wrote, and my mom read, and the story grew. It was a creative outlet for me, and an intimate way for us to bond over something we controlled, something that brought us joy.
My mom got stronger, and I got hooked on writing fiction. I did a couple rounds of self-edits, sought feedback from diverse, wise beta readers, and then started cold querying. I didn’t have any publishing contacts; I just learned what I could online. My mom helped with agent research, and we kept talking through the querying process. It felt like an extension of the project we’d already been sharing.
We were blessed. I had six agent offers within two months, and I signed with Stefanie Lieberman, who, ably assisted by Molly Steinblatt and Adam Hobbins, guided me through revisions to make the story punchier, juicier, and more layered. After seven months of edits, Stefanie deemed the book ready to go on submission. We sold it in a pre-empt to Liz Stein at William Morrow ten days later, on my 41st birthday. I will never, ever forget how that felt—especially when I called my mom and shared the good news with her.
EC: Wow. I cannot think of a cooler come-up story. Do you write every day?
NS: Most days, but not all. Writing is my main gig right now, and that’s a gift I want to take seriously. And, for the first time in my career, I’m trying to put work second so I can be fully present for my parents and my family.
EC: When you are working, do you aim for a daily word count? Or maybe you aim for a certain amount of time? How do you gauge your progress?
NS: It depends where I am in the process. Right now, I’m in the early stages of writing a new book, and sometimes sitting down at my laptop feels like crashing a party full of strangers. My rule for now is not about word count. Instead, I tell myself I have to sit down to write every day. There’s no law about how much I have to write. But I have to start.
EC: What are the tools of your trade?
NS: I write on a laptop, revise on paper. I’m obsessed with Scrivener. I first used it fifteen years ago, when I wrote my first book of nonfiction. My nerdy love of the software has only grown since then. I love how it makes it easy to work in scenes and chapters. I love taking snapshots of past versions as I go. And I love how its composition mode lets me block out everything else and just write.
I love revising on paper, especially once I’m past the big developmental edits. We live in a little cabin off the grid, and inevitably old drafts become fuel for the wood stove in the winter. I take pleasure in watching my past words burn.
EC: Ugh. I have tried—and tried—to get the hang of Scrivener. No luck. Burning pages, on the other hand, I understand all too well. When do you write?
NS: I love writing in the early morning, before the world fully wakes up, from about 6-9am. For me, the most important thing is to have an uninterrupted block of writing time. Two hours is good, four is great. Even if I don’t write for the entire time, that space enables me to submerge into imagination and flow.
EC: Do you have any rituals you return to that get you in the mood to write?
NS: I love writing in my kitchen. We live in the Santa Cruz mountains, in two buildings: a 400 square foot one-room cabin, and a 100 square foot kitchen a few steps away. The kitchen is a cozy space wrapped in windows. In the morning, it fills with light. The trees outside are heavy with fog. There are many natural distractions—redwoods out the window, wayward birds flying through, dog knocking with his nose to get in—but no human or manmade ones. There is also unlimited black tea.
EC: Do you outline your novels or just dive straight in?
NS: A combination. I like to write a few chapters first to get to know the world and the characters, to see who shows up and surprises me. Once I feel like there’s some momentum, I go back and sketch out an outline. The draft might diverge from the outline, and when it does, I go with it. I want the story to drive the structure, not the other way around.
EC: What does your revision process look like?
NS: I love getting feedback from beta readers. It doesn’t feel overwhelming or confusing; it feels like I’m tapping into a wise chorus who see things I can’t and who wish me well.
My former career was in museums and nonprofits, and participatory design was my focus. For years, I worked with thousands of strangers, mostly amateurs, to design exhibitions, programs, and public plazas. I even wrote my first nonfiction book on a wiki, soliciting feedback from colleagues around the world.
When I wrote my first novel, I knew I wanted to cultivate that same kind of participatory energy. I wrote the first draft in installments on an online bulletin board where other amateur writers could give comments. My mom also read the entire first draft as I wrote it. Then, after a self-edit, I tapped my network and identified 15 beta readers for a thorough review. I curated the group to reflect diverse racial backgrounds, ages, and geographies. I asked very specific questions and created a nerdy spreadsheet to receive and process all their feedback, so I could capture both broad trends and particularly provocative ideas. And then I dove into revising where I saw fit. Months later, when I was working on the final developmental edit, I once again sought targeted feedback from seven new beta readers.
I don’t know whether this beta reader-intensive process will stand for future books, but I do know I always benefit from hearing multiple perspectives.
EC: Do you read any certain books for inspiration prior to writing?
NS: I still have so much to learn about how to write a good story. I read two-three hours per day, about ninety percent fiction, ten percent craft books. It’s not uncommon for me to race through an incredible novel, and then go back and slowly diagram what works about a specific paragraph, plot point, or word choice. My bachelor’s degree is in electrical engineering, and I often feel like I’m tapping into those rusty skills, popping the hood and trying to figure out what makes a great story tick.
EC: Best advice for writers just starting out, especially when it comes to the actual act of writing/developing the habits necessary to craft an entire novel?
NS: Your question makes me think about the tension I feel between my desire to become a stronger writer and my confidence in what I am already capable of doing.
I’m new to writing fiction, and I’m a voracious learner. When someone gives me feedback, I want to act on it right away. When I learn a new tidbit from a craft book or podcast, I want to absorb and use that lesson in my work. I want to keep growing as a writer, and I cultivate coaches, critics, cheerleaders, and my own drive to achieve that.
At the same time, it’s easy for me to get disheartened or overwhelmed by how far I feel from my own ambitions. I read a terrific novel and think, “I could never write that well.” Sometimes I even feel shame about the distance between my current skills and the work I hope to create.
These feelings, as you surely know, are not helpful. For this reason, there’s a piece of masking tape stuck to the windowsill in my kitchen. It says: PERFECT IS NOT THE GOAL. A FUN, HEART-FILLED STORY IS THE GOAL. I stuck it up there at a particularly agonized moment. It continues to comfort and inspire me every time I sit down to write.
EC: Finally, why do you write?
NS: Because I love it. Because it’s a world I’m discovering and inventing at the same time. Because it can be as hard as I want it to be, but the challenge is internal, and not driven by others’ expectations. After decades of working for and with others, I now feel an incredible sense of freedom and joy in self-expression. It’s not always easy. It’s not always fun. But it’s always mine. And I can’t believe my luck and good fortune that this is how I get to spend my days.
