Mona Lisa Smile

So I'm lying there in surgery, and the doctor says, "I want you to smile for me."

????

I sort of glance up doubtfully--I'm not exactly having the time of my life here--and he says, "No, I'm serious. We're very close to the facial nerve that controls the muscles that move your lips."

Oh. My. God.

Just like that everything can change. And that always makes good material for novels, but--as I smiled weakly for my doctor--I realized that although these are the kinds of things that are supposed to build character, I would not deal well with this sort of challenge. Which is why I am abjectly grateful that everything went well, and I can still smile--and stick my tongue out. (And kiss.)

I can still sing. (Would I have been able to sing with paralyzed facial muscles?) And, believe me, I feel like singing.

I've been celebrating by working in the garden. There's something very grounding (no pun intended) about working in the dirt. The feel of the sun on your skin, the smell of earth and flowers (the hair blowing in your eyes, the sweat trickling down your back). Mostly I've been replanting pots. (Er--repotting plants.) I couldn't figure out what was wrong with all the plants this year; we had such great success by container planting last summer. Then, belatedly, it sank in on me that it wasn't the heat or lack of food or water--most of these plants are root-bound. That's the downside of container planting, but the soil is so lousy here, containers are often the best bet.

I've moved about 17 plants of various sizes and shapes to larger pots, and I've got another ten or so to go, including five large vines. (I'll get them moved just in time to put everything to bed for the winter.)

I think one of the best things about a garden is that hard work pays off. It takes time and requires patience, but you will be rewarded. Hard work doesn't always pay off and you don't always get your just reward in this life, but you do tend to get it in a garden.

Uh, which is why my garden currently looks like hell. (But the writing has been very good.)



I think by tomorrow afternoon I should be back in writing mode. I NEED to be. I've got deadlines and commitments. And one thing I've learned, you have to keep that creative muscle warmed and working.

And speaking of muscles, creative and otherwise, the last batch off Ebay are all Dell mapbacks. (I don't know why I get such a kick out of those goofy old maps and the even goofier "What This MYSTERY Is About" and "Persons This MYSTERY Is About" lists.


DATE WITH DARKNESS by Donald Hamilton, 1947. The map on the back is of the Chesapeake Bay area "Where action is rough and tough in DATE WITH DARKNESS."

The front cover offers a guy in a red shirt getting ready to punch a girl already falling out of her shirt. The girl looks more thoughtful than worried; I imagine she should know.

First line: "He took down her suitcase and her fur coat. She said she did not have a hat."

(No, it is not chick lit--there is no mention of her shoes.)

I noticed this one was going for $12.99 last time I checked on Ebay this afternoon, so perhaps it's well known.










SLIPPERY HITCH by Gerald Butler, 1949. Man and a woman tussling over a boat oar.

Fear came into her eyes.

"Then--you're a--" Horror choked her voice...

He's a--a--what?! Jeez!




The back cover is not really a map. There's a line ink drawing of a map and then five little illustrations: A terrified girl prisoner in a madman's car--Johnny and Bob must stop him...Not daring to ask police aid, they wait for a ticket while their quarry vanishes...Until an unexpected curve appears at the edge of a high cliff...A wild hunch leads them to a cottage on a lonely lane...Blood flows when pursued and pursuer meet and the chase goes on...

Actually I can't tell from the little arrows if the high cliff comes before or after the wild hunch and the flowing blood. Maybe it comes after because THE CHASE GOES ON!!!

The back blurb reads:

The savage passions of a twisted mind makes life a living hell for two men and a girl in this forthright psychological thriller.

TWO men and a girl? Someone is doomed.

What does "forthright psychological thriller" mean? Is this a polite way of saying the madman has his wicked way with the terrified girl? Or are they going to hammer us with a lot of medical terms? Inquiring minds want to know.

First line: "Johnny had never hit a woman before, and when he saw her go down, and lying there, her face and her hair in the light of the street lamp, suddenly knowing it was a girl, he felt sick and dizzy."

Kind of effective, if confusing.

HUNT WITH HOUNDS by Mignon G. Eberhart, 1950. I already have (and love) this book, but I couldn't resist it in a mapback. The cover shows a man in a red hunting jacket menacing a woman in a ball gown (it's the Hunt Ball, right enough). The cover reads PINK COATS AND RED BLOOD--Three murders terrorize an exclusive hunt club.

Sounds a bit like a gay mystery, doesn't it?





The back offers a map of the state of Virginia, then a smaller map of Bedford County, then a nice little picture of The Laurels. It's a good one. The blurb reads

Blooded horses, baying hounds--MURDER, terror, intrigue and false accusations in the Virginia fox-hunting country.

This book was part of my inspiration for the fox hunting motif in VERSE OF THE VAMPYRE. I really enjoy Eberhart's work although she did create some of the most aggravatingly helpless heroines in the history of crime fiction. Never did these chicks fail to pick up the fallen murder weapon or deign to speak in their own defense.

First line: "There had been, as Ruby said later, no other kill that day."

Ah, fox hunting...

JEWELS FOR A SHROUD by Walter de Steiguer, 1950. "She was the victim of a madman!" The spine reads, DIAMONDS AND DEATH. (Sounds like my wedding.)

The map is not really a map so much as four stamp-sized illustrations. The Big City Slept While Murder Combed the Causeways. (I do like well-groomed causeways.)

First line: "On a small piece of land near the junction of Fifth Avenue and one of New York's swankier cross streets stands a building that is better known in some circles than most of the city's tallest and more famous steel and stone spires."

Architecture as opening gambit. Hmmm.

I always find first line comparisons intriguing. First lines and last lines, but you generally have to read the entire book to fully appreciate the last word.

Speaking of last words, the last word for tonight is...Goodnight.

Run Run, Baby, Run Run, Baby, Run...

I think of myself as a philosophical person, but it occurred to me yesterday evening as I was driving home from work that fantasizing about having machine guns mounted behind my headlights so I could blow all the lousy drivers off the road, is maybe not an indication of my philosophical nature.

Was I always this impatient?

Anyway, it's a nice long drive for thinking--and generally my thoughts are of a more positive nature. The road winds through the pine trees and mountains, and now and again I see deer or a bobcat or a fox--there's a little black mountain goat I see most mornings. It's a good time to unwind, and often I'll sing with whatever is in the CD player (this morning it was Garbage's BLEED LIKE ME--hence the title of today's blog) or work out various plot points on the project of the moment. And on those days that I don't want to be alone with my thoughts, I'll pop an audio book into the player and amuse myself that way. I've heard a lot of good books over the past couple of years--things I might not otherwise have bothered with.

I like this Garbage album. I actually bought it for a song that turns out not to be on the album (further proof that I am not the master of organization that I believe I am). I almost didn't buy the album--the idea of a group named "Garbage" seemed to demonstrate that Trying Too Hard thing that I'm so weary of. But it's not bad. There's a song called "Happy Home" that moves me.

In my happy home I barely breathe
In my lovers arms I find relief
And there's a sky that's changing and a bird that sings
I never once in my wayward life was heading to run out

But then I am in a strange mood these days. It must be the end of summer. I'm an autumn baby, and every autumn I start thinking about reinventing myself...

The focus these days is almost entirely on writing. This month I'm planning to hammer out the partial on a project my agent and I have been kicking around. The interesting thing about this project (nameless for now) is that it is so totally NOT me. It's a challenge to write another person's idea, but it excites me--partly because it is a challenge, and partly because I find it very freeing to work outside of my own head. I sketched out a few pages last month, and glancing over them, they look like they have potential, so I'm forging on. Three chapters, that's the goal.

And it's time to think about winding up the Mary Kelly serial.

And, and, and... There's always got to be some project, the next goal. It's getting to the point where I'm trying to schedule my spontaneous outbursts.

One thing for sure, my sadly neglected garden is going to get some quality time. I walked out there last night and nearly cried. Even the lavender is dying. I mean, lavender is practically indestructible. There's not a rose on a bush--the only thing thriving are the weeds. Especially sad when I think how beautiful everything was just two months ago before this hellish heat hit.

The thing about a garden is that it teaches patience--it demands it. And it rewards hard work. It's so amazing what a little sweat and a lot of fertilizer can do--beautiful to look at, of course, but there's also the scent and texture of flowers and herbs and the other plants. It's almost narcotic. Anyway, maybe because it's so physical and so different from writing, but I find it relaxing to snip and prune and dig and plant and water. All of it. I enjoy all of it. Okay, I'm not crazy about bees or worms, but they are necessary, so I try to keep the squeaks of dismay to a minimum.

One day I'll tell you about my crazy little hummingbirds and the doves that wake me on Saturday mornings...

Murder, She Says

The original plan was to try and post weekly. You know, keep it fresh, keep it lively--give the folks at home a reason to check back. Gulp. Easier said than done. It's gig season--which I love, don't get me wrong. What could be more fun than hanging out with my sisters (okay, Cousin George is pretty entertaining too, and that GRANT! What a wild man!) and singing our hearts out--not to mention drinking beer and hearing how wonderful we are by people who have clearly been drinking more than us. (I'm kidding, because there is nothing more flattering than the instant and heartfelt appreciation of the audience at live performances.)

The gigs are just part of it. I had to wrap up one book, do the revisions on SONNET OF THE SPHINX, and plot out three other projects that I hope to finish before the end of the year. There was that article due to Mystery Readers Journal and book reviews for I Love a Mystery, and the online Buzz Your Book course I'm taking. And you know, between all this, there is THE GROOMING.

I mention The Grooming because Mr. Thrilling finds my daily routines a never-ending source of merriment (though I am quite confident that he appreciates the results). Yes, the rafters ring with hilarious comments on the heavy equipment and hazard signs that fly up when I am...er...grooming. What can I say? I enjoy being a girl.

So anyway, safe to say, I've been busy. Not, however, too busy to shop.

I have to keep reminding myself that I do not need to buy every old mystery every written--only the ones that interest me. Well, maybe not even every single one that interests me, because that would lead back to every old mystery every written. You really can't tell if they will interest you until you start reading.

The latest eBay haul is four, count 'em four, rather nifty paperbacks.

CHARLIE CHAN CARRIES ON by Earl Derr Biggers. A Pocket (ah, my own publisher) Book (cute little kangaroo with reading glasses logo on back). This was the 10th printing (1945) for Pocket alone. The thing had been printed about a zillion times before, which gives you some idea of how popular the gentle and genial Asian sleuth was (even in war time).

Charlie Chan--the films at least--has come under some heat from the "Asian Community" (like there could ever be such a thing--as if all Asians believed or thought the same way on any issue--anymore than the so-called "Irish Community" are as one mind and one heart). One sore spot is the fact that Chan was portrayed by non-Asian actors (which I sort of agree with, but news flash, Jack Palance, Ricardo Montalban or Rock Hudson were not of Native American extraction either--and Linda Hunt is not actually a half-Chinese male--and here's a shattering thought: movies are make believe). And there's also the complaint that Chan was stereotypical, which is like complaining that Sherlock Holmes is a stereotypical Englishman or Jane Marple is your stereotypical silver panther.

But I digress...

It will be no surprise to hear that I love the Charlie Chan movies (the earlier ones, when they still had a plot and some writing), and I'm fond of the novels too. CHARLIE CHAN CARRIES ON was the first Charlie Chan novel I ever read. I was probably about eleven. If you're at all familiar with Charlie you realize that "carries on" does not refer to any wild behavior on the part of our hero.

As I recall this one starts out in London with Chief Inspector Duff of Scotland Yard investigating the murder of an American industrialist on a world tour. I was shocked and astonished when midway through the novel, Duff gets injured (I believe in the movie version he actually gets KILLED) and Charlie Chan takes over. This was the very first time I had read a novel where the main character (or the character I innocently believed to be the main character) was abruptly sidelined in favor of another character. It would seem that the importance of the title escaped me.

Anyway, I've read a number of the Chan novels, and I still think this one is the best. Granted it's possible that I wasn't the most critical reader at age eleven.

Next up THE SAINT GOES ON. (There are a lot of Saint novels floating around on eBay for anyone interested.)

The Saint novels, of course, were written by Leslie Charteris, and I still haven't managed to read one! In fact, I've had to confine my reading to books I'm going to be reviewing for I Love A Mystery http://www.iloveamysterynewsletter.com/

Just finishing up Sara Paretsky's FIRESALE and Harley Jane Kozak's DATING DEAD MEN. The Kozak book is especially entertaining. I say this with a measure of irritation because she's an actress, so what the hell is she doing writing mystery novels? But I guess this could be said about folksingers who take Crimeland detours. Anyway, the book is tres amusant, and I've already purchased her next one.

None of which has anything to do with The Saint. The Saint (always nice covers) is a New Avon Library selection from 1943. It actually seems to be three short stories or possibly novellas. In "High Fence," "the Saint matches wits with that daffodil of the Metropolitan police force Junior Inspector Pryke..." (Does "daffodil" mean what I think it does? Does "Pryke"?) In "The Elusive Ellshaw," "there follows quite a bit of shooting and a canoe ride." (Sounds like my life with Mr. Smith.) And then we have the "Frightened Innkeeper" whereupon "the Saint and his bodyguard Hoppy tangle with the red-faced man, and the mystery of the broken down motor truck." Ugh. The Mystery of the Broken Down Motor Truck? That's not fiction, that's the very sort of thing I read fiction to escape from. In later cases did the Saint tackle Dishwashers with Leaky Seals and The Can-opener That Went Kaput?

I vaguely remember The Saint TV show from my misspent childhood. I had no idea what was going on, but I thought Roger Moore was very handsome--I liked that twinkle in his eye. I didn't mind him as James Bond, either, he brought a sort of lazy affability to the paid assassin gig.

The best looking of the bunch is THE DRAGON MURDER CASE by S.S. Van Dine. This one's from Bantam in 1949. Great cover by A. Freudeman. "DEATH lurked in a moonlit pool!"




But you know, DEATH is better than what some folks pick up in moonlit pools--particularly hot tubs.

Very interesting comment on the back: "This low-priced Bantam book, complete and unabridged, is made possible by the large sale and effective promotion of the original edition, published by Charles Scribner's Sons." (With an even better cover, by the way.) Doesn't that seem like an odd thing to share with the reading public?

(Mr. Thrilling's opinion is that this is because in the good old days reading paperbacks was considered low brow.)

I've never been a big fan of Philo Vance, with his "ice-cold brain" and numerous affectations. When I pulled this one out of the box, Mr. Thrilling quoted Ogden Nash: "Philo Vance needs a kick in the pants." Very possibly, but since this is the title I'm most familiar with (I think William Powell played Vance in a movie version) I'll give it a shot. If I keep picturing Vance as Bill Powell all will be well.

"That sinister and terrifying crime which came to be known as the dragon murder case, will always be associated in my mind with one of the hottest summers I have ever experienced in New York."

Had I but known!

Next up, THE CAT SAW MURDER by D.B. Olsen. A Dell mapback (woohooo!) Murder at a beach house. I like this already.

D.B. Olsen also wrote CATSPAW FOR MURDER, THE CAT'S CLAW, ETC. A kitty fetish, I guess.

"Detective Lieutenant Stephen Mayhew has been heard to complain that the murder of the Sticklemann woman was the damnedest case that he ever met up with; that solving the thing was like working a jigsaw puzzle upside down and backward; that it got progressively worse as it dragged along; and that it set him at such insane tasks as pulling hairs out of Miss Rachel's cat (ah, the cat appears in the very first paragraph!) and forcing a timid fat woman to scream (pretty thrilling stuff, I must say). He has said with embellishments, that he hated the thing from beginning to end."

I surely do hope this does not foreshadow my own reading pleasure.

And last but not least, THE OPENING DOOR by Helen Reilly. Also a Dell mapback (1944). Reilly (per the wonderful site known as A Guide to Classic Mystery and Detection) "was a prolific author of mystery novels, whose career stretched from 1930 to 1962. Her books feature New York City police Inspector Christopher McKee. They were among the first American novels to stress police procedure."




"The murder didn't take place until after 7 p.m. on the night of December 2nd." Sort of a crisp understated way of getting the body on the first page.

So there we have it. And one of these days maybe I'll have time to actually read them...

Around and about

Yesterday I did a signing at TEA AND SYMPATHY at the Pomona Highland Games. Actually, this is the United Scottish Games--it used to be held in Costa Mesa. Well, according to a faded and battered program my dad dug out of the garage a few days ago, the very first Highland Games in Southern California were held in Santa Monica. Admission was .50 and some of the fab events included the Men's Three Legged Race--probably more like a genuine old time games. My dad used to go to these things when he was a young piper.

I always enjoy the T&S signings, although they are not at all like a normal signing. For one thing, I trade rather heavily on my Browne Sister status (You make me want to La La...) and for another, many of the people buying books did not come in the vendor hall intending to buy books--although many of them do regularly buy books (generally historical romances) from the T&S author lineup.

I usually sign with two really terrific women--they could probably model for their own heroines. They're frank and funny--and were, from the very start, welcoming to the chickadee from Mysteryworld. (I was going for a swans and ugly duckling metaphor, but it's too much work when I haven't even had my proper caffeine dosage yet.) I confess that I've never been a huge fan of historical romance (Laura Kinsale and Georgette Heyer excepted) but I've glanced these books over, and they look well-researched and fun. Anyway, if you do enjoy historical romance I heartily recommend Glynnis Campbell http://www.glynnis.net/ and Lauren Royal http://www.LaurenRoyal.com

So... a very enjoyable day selling books, sipping beer, and chatting with Lauren and Glynnis (Glynnis, by the way, is also a talented musician and voice-over artist). Still it was a relief to have sold enough that I could take today off and get back to the writing.

This is the on-going challenge: to balance writing time with promotion time. It's not enough to write good books (which I think that I do--granted we all believe that) you have to get out there and sell yourself. And if you are at all shy, it can be very tiring. I am a bit shy, but it's easier for me because I like people and I'm interested in them, so I'm able to stop focusing on myself and concentrate on the other person, and I'm usually okay.

I've committed to doing at least one signing a month, and so far this year I've stuck to it, although I haven't managed to PROMOTE the fact that I'm doing these signings (one step at a time, folks). And on Friday I signed up to take a short online course on promotion from MJ Rose. MJ Rose is kind of the poster girl for self-promotion. I've tried hiring a publicist, but I was very unsatisfied with the results, so I'd rather invest the money in myself and learn the basics. It might be less expensive in the long run--or at least this time around I'll have only myself to blame.

What actually convinced me to try MJ Rose's course is completely irrational. She wrote a book called SHEET MUSIC, and I was so amazed that she could write--in fact, a couple of times I found myself getting teary (the subplot regarding the heroine's coming to terms with the death of her beloved mother). Believe me, that rarely happens. I had always assumed that this woman was a master of PR, but probably only a mediocre writer. This is dreadful to say, but 95% of everything contemporary that I read falls in the oh-okay class. But this book moved me.

Anyway, I signed up. Not that what necessarily works for one person will work for another, but I figure it can't do me any harm to learn what I should be TRYING to do at least. Don't worry, whatever happens, I will not start spamming friends and family with unwanted book promos! This is an interesting experiment for me because this third and possibly final book with Pocket will be the first one for which I tried to form a marketing plan. So we'll see if it works.

One thing every writer I meet seems to agree on: you cannot make a living at this unless you have more than one book coming out a year. Which means writing AND promoting/marketing two books a year.

Considering that many people go into this business believing that the publisher will take care of all that for you...!

But enough of business blab. I picked up another great batch of books on ebay, and I'll be talking about them next time!

Yo? Yo ho ho!

So there I am gloating over my e-bay treasures last night, and Mr. Thrilling walks in and drawls, "My God, it's like living with Captain Kidd!"

There were a few more remarks about booty, but those were of a more personal nature. So anyway, here's what I got!

SILENT TERROR by T.C.H. Jacobs. A 1944 Bulls-Eye Detective novel.

"The terror surrounding the murder of a well-known daughter of joy is the ominously quiet kind. Inspector Ruggles Radford (no WAY!) , summoned from his favorite cocktail bar, could find no marks on the body. Possibly the woman was hypnotised and ingeniously strangled."

Possibly. Or maybe Ruggles was hypnotised and she was ingeniously strangled, because how can you be strangled but have no marks on the body? Just how long was Ruggles in that cocktail bar anway?

I'll have to read the book. I'll keep you posted.

THE SAINT VS. SCOTLAND YARD by Leslie Charteris. 1945 Avon Book Company.

I've never been a big Saint fan. By which I mean I've never been interested enough to read any of the novels. All that's going to change, and I'll let you know how it goes. In this adventure he seems to be battling an arch-nemesis known as the Scorpion.

THE PINBALL MURDERS by Thomas B. Black. 1947 with the cover blurb "Suspense, sex and action." But no, it's not about dating.

This one has a killer opening, and I'll probably read it first.

"The little guy cried, and that did it; I said I'd look for his wife."


Then we have O AS IN OMEN by Lawrence Treat. 1943.

Did I mention, ignoramus that I am, I haven't heard of any of these writers except Charteris? Anyway, Treat seems to have been fairly prolific (17 novels and hundreds of short stories), and he's credited on one website with creating the police procedural sub-genre. I guess someone had to, but it seems a steep claim.

Opening line: "He was sweating in thin cold beads because he'd been stricken so unaccountably."

Hmmm.

We'll see.

Then we have three books by Dana Chambers who, again, I never heard of until I became a pirate.

ROPE FOR AN APE - 1947

"Boyd shoved the big open Bently through Tuxedo at an easy sixty, and cut in the supercharger on the long straight stretch beyond."

THE BLONDE DIED FIRST - 1941

"The Park Lane bar felt hot and close and I went on through to the little garden at the back and ordered a stinger."

I like that.

THE FRIGHTENED MAN - 1942

"At four o'clock of a late March morning in Manhattan the eastern sky is a deep purple just beginning to pale."

A cursory internet search turns up nothing on Chambers. Disappointing. He (she?) seems like an interesting writer.

Just spotted a slow moving vessel to the west. Time to hoist the skull and crossbones...

Dancin' by the Nile

Last week I discovered ebay. Yeeha! Or more correctly, Yahoo! Another excuse not to write.

I'm justifying the expenditure (of time and ouch! so much more money than I intended) by finding items related to writing. For example...I'm going to put an ebay addict in one of my current WiPs. And I'm finding lots of great vintage mysteries to rip off--er--inspire me. But best of all, this morning I bought this very cool replica of the Sphinx, which will be the grand prize next spring when SONNET OF THE SPHINX launches, and I do my ususal website contest. I may even pick up a few more little Egyptian-like collectibles for the promo. Since it's the third book in the series, and the final one Pocket has contracted for (so far) I really want to make a fuss of it, and focus a little harder on the promotion.

Speaking of which, according to my editor at Pocket, Micki Nuding, review copies actually should have gone out on VERSE OF THE VAMPYRE. The fact that they didn't can apparently be chalked up to...well, the vagaries of an already vague biz. I feel the lack of reviews really did affect sales, but maybe that's writer paranoia. It is interesting to see if my promotional efforts make a difference. I spent about $12,000. promoting HIGH RHYMES AND MISDEMEANORS (including publicist fees, etc.) and the book did go into a second printing. On VERSE, I spent about $3,000. (no publicist). It's too soon to know what impact, if any, this will have. I hear different theories all the time.

Anyway, back to ebay. I had no idea there was so much WONDERFUL STUFF available. Pink Depression glass candlesticks, ivy china, Dell mapbacks, and vintage jewellery--to name just a few of the items I regularly hunt for. And I do mean, regularly. Yep, I'm addicted to online auctioneering. So much of the stuff reminds me of things my grandmothers owned--etched stemware, milk glass, funky little figurines. You have to wonder about the history behind pieces that have been around for decades--those tangles of old jewellery and incomplete sets of fine china. I wonder if someone is auctioning off their granny's beloved trinkets, but the truth is many of these ebayers simply buy to resell. Apparently there are people who actually try to make money at this game.

Not me. I buy what I love. So I get a little fanatical and overbid. Where they kill you is on shipping. Ouch. .99 for a five piece set of china, and $100. shipping. Yeah, right. I didn't fall for that one, but I did get into a bidding war over a set of cork placemats that I'd prefer not to think about (although I will have to think about it every time we eat dinner). Anyway, here's my ebay tip: DO NOT THINK OF BIDDING AS WINNING OR LOSING.

It's the books that really lure me in. I buy them in lots, and I'm only interested in certain writers or certain art work, so my buying pattern is probably irrational. There's something about the hunt for old books that is like no other. I won five Dell mapbacks yesterday. A couple of them will go into someone's Christmas stocking, a couple of them may be website giveaways--and a couple of them I just cannot wait to read!

Ah, but I see I have 32m to go on a certain item. Must run...

Birds do it, Bees do it...

Editors, agents, reviewers, authors, wannabe authors, and educated fleas do it, so it was only a matter of time before I decided to do it too. Yes, I am officially a blogger. I am a blogspot on the face of the world wide web.

So this weekend we (me and Mr. Thrilling Detective) attended the L.A. Times Book Fair. It's several years since I've been to the festival, and the first time I've appeared in my secret identity (author). I think it is no coincidence that the official event T-shirt features jungle animals reading. The festival has exploded in size--it's a zoo.

My personal belief is that half the people there do not read and do not buy books, but perhaps I'm being cynical. On the other hand, Angelenos love to party, and the Book Fair is a two day extravaganza of food and drink (no alchohol though, and how weird is THAT? We're AUTHORS for cryin' out loud. Alchohol is part of our job description) and books, books, books.

I have to be honest and say that I am not one to relish rubbing shoulders with the madding crowd--unlike Mr. Thrilling, who is a friendly and gregarious soul (despite what they say about him). Poor guy. He just doesn't mind being being jostled and jammed and trampled.

But I digress. The Book Fair is the kind of event that is A Must for local authors (and maybe even not so local authors), although--as you now know, not being especially keen on mobs of people--not my favorite gig in the world. Part of the author biz is to get out there and flog your wares (the paper kind--although sometimes it feels a little more personal). This is not easy for me. It's not easy for most of the writers I know, although some thrive on it. Most of us prefer the writing to the marketing. Although, on the other hand, writing is a solitary profession, and for some, the promotion is a great time to meet and greet.


Speaking of which, I met the talented and charming Libby Fischer Hellman (we share our agent, it turns out). I had the peculiar notion that she wrote Amish mysteries, but...er...no. She writes a very well-regarded series about a single mom filmmaker. She's nominated for an Anthony, how cool is that? Inside, of course, I am deeply, greenly jealous and soooo not wanting to like her or her books. (I'm kidding--at least, I HOPE I am!)

I have, in fact, added Libby to my ever-mounting TBR pile--along with a new one by Holly Baxter called TEARS OF THE DRAGON. This sounds inticing-ly like the Mary Kelly stuff I write (under D.L. Browne). Hopefully I'll manage some little review snippets in the near future.

Oh (hey, nice segue) I also met the adorable Beth Kendrick (we share a publisher, it turns out) who has a new chick lit coming out called EXES AND OHS. Beth is branching into YA, and she wanted to see if I had any objections to her using the penname Killian. I thought that demonstrated real class--and of course I fiercely refused to relinquish the "Killian" nom de plume!! (I truly am kidding.)

Anyway, I signed for a couple of hours at Crime Time Books with moderate success (no, not another author), and then escaped to the homefire delights of MURDER SHE WROTE (Season 1) and a heaping plate of "wings of fire."

And on Saturday I discovered EBAY. Oh. My. Gah.

The wonders and seduction of ebay deserves its own blog, so until then...