Dot Dead Diary

Adrenaline Jones

The "book tour" is pretty much over.  Been to Portland, Seattle, Denver, LA, and Austin.  I miss the excitement of being on live TV, NPR radio affiliates, seeing my Amazon rating climb, and stumbling across positive reviews.  I've become an adrenaline junkie, but the book has been out now for two months.  The number of new reviews is dwindling, my Amazon rating is heading south, and interviews are more widely spaced.  Yes, I do have some important interviews coming and am on a panel at Bouchercon (the world's biggest mystery conference) at the end of September.  And I am kicking off Kepler's Mystery and Mayhem series in Menlo Park on September 20.  I don't have anything to really complain about.  It's just that I've grown addicted to the -- what is it? -- attention, the positive reinforcement.  Yeah, I know: I need to start turning my efforts toward Book #2.  But that's hard work with the adrenaline rush way out in the future.  Sigh.

Can You Hear Me?

A colleague at my day job surprised me.  He said kept up with my Dot Dead adventures through this blog. I had no idea.  So I looked at how many people do a take a gander -- TypePad tracks that for its users.  Indeed, a fair number of lurkers are silently inspecting the pages of Dot Dead Diary.  Leave comments, please.  I'd like to know you're out there and be reminded that I'm not just calling out into the abyss.

Kvelling at the Emmys

I don't know if I've ever watched the Emmys before, but I did last night.  Let me explain.  Sam Dubbin and I go back a ways.  To show you how far back, I'll admit that I was an usher at his wedding.  In fact, I think I wrote letters of recommendation for him to get into grad school.  Anyway, Sam called yesterday afternoon to remind me that one of the happy products of his marriage, son Robert, was nominated for an Emmy.  Robert -- who seems to have changed his first name to "Rob" -- is one of the staff writers on the Colbert Report.  (My daughter Helena even found his listing on the IMDB database.)  I would have loved to have seen Robert, resplendent in newly purchased evening clothes, with the show's writing team on national TV , but it was not to be.  In the way of all big brothers who do not like to share with their younger siblings, Jon Stewart's Daily Show won the Emmy for variety, musical or comedy series and then hogged the Emmy for writing in same.  But still, can you imagine?  An Emmy nomination for Robert who is in his mid-20's?  Robert's parents and grandparents must have been kvelling when his name was read on the air (and pronounced correctly).  I know I was.

Back Again

My back hurts.  During the renovation of our house, we had this white portable storage unit placed in front of the house.  According to my wife, it's filled mainly with cartons of my books -- she says 90 of them (cartons, that is), but I suspect some hyperbole.  Yesterday morning then I moved about a dozen of said cartons upstairs, unpacked them, and placed books on shelves.  I hadn't seen some of the books since we moved into this house in February 2002.  A bunch were old childhood favorites like Edgar Rice Burroughs' John Carter of Mars series.  Can't wait to start them with my seven-year old.  Some great old mysteries as well including Fontana and Penguin paperback editions of Chandler and Ross Macdonald that I bought when in grad school in England.  I used to go into Blackwell's, probably the best bookstore in the world, and spend 30 pence on the Macdonalds and 35 on the Chandlers and buy myself some respite from thesis research, pub crawling, tea drinking, or whatever the heck I was doing over there. 

Anyway, back to the back.  My lower spine felt a little sore, but making the reacquaintance of so many old literary friends was more than worth a little discomfort.  After my 10-year old's swim lesson, my wife and I and our three youngest piled into the old jalopy and headed up to San Francisco to visit bookstores.  The plan, as always, was to meet booksellers, sign any stray copies of Dot Dead we could find, and cry a little if a bookshop did not carry my opus in hopes that the bookbuyers would see the error of their ways.  At the Borders across from AT&T Park, two Dot Deads, previously signed after a ballgame, resided spine out on the shelves.  I snuck them into an open space on the racks by the checkout counter.  (If this is reprehensible, please let me know in comments below.  The space really was empty.)  We then hit Stacey's on Market.  No books in stock.  I'm supposed to call Sidney, the bookbuyer, on Monday.  Neither City Lights nor Green Apple had any Raffels next to the Rankins on their mystery shelves, but were so crowded that conversation with the staff was impossible.  I hit three Books Inc. stores (the local chain that listed Dot Dead as its top-seller July 10-16).  The one in Burlingame had three to sign, the Marina store had just one, and Laurel Heights none.  We took a detour to show the kids Ocean Beach and on the way back to the highway a guy rear-ended me.  He wasn't going too fast and damage to the car was minimal, but my back did not appreciate being jarred that way.

Still we managed to finish the mini-book tour on an upper.  The Borders in Stonestown, which I think is the oldest mall in California, had three copies of Dot Dead.  My wife and I chatted with Starla who placed the books in a prominent position (eliminating the need for me to sneak them into such a spot.)  Starla was friendly and helpful and in such good humor that I smile as I write these words even as the bottom vertebrae of my back feel as though someone were wringing them like a towel.

Better Than An Edgar (?)

The last sentence of the acknowledgments in Dot Dead reads:  "Worth almost an Edgar Award would be Dot Dead meeting the selection standards of [my wife's] book group."  (An Edgar is the mystery world's Oscar.)  Last night after takeout from Mandarin Gourmet (the same place Ian got his Chinese jones satisfied), Teri's book group settled in our living room to hear me expound.  Chris, Sandy, Kay, Ellen, Daryl, Gloria, Julie, Donna, and Ann were even allowed to haul their husbands along.  Of course, everyone wanted to believe Dot Dead is some kind of roman à clef and guess which real person is represented by which character in the book.  I discussed this some and opined that the supposition Ian is me is exactly backwards.  Dot Dead is written in the first person.  It's not that Ian is me.  Instead, during the writing of the book, when the words were just flowing onto the page without conscious thought, I became Ian.  I was recording what I thought, but the "I" was Ian.  I was transformed into a fictional character.  That's the magic of writing. 

The book group gave me a framed and autographed copy of that acknowledgments page.  You know, having Dot Dead selected by the book group was almost as good as an Edgar.  Thanks all.

Female Noir

As I've recounted before, the proprietor of the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, J.B. Dickey, mentioned Miami Purity by Vicki Hendricks as one of his favorite mysteries.  It's out of print, but he pressed his personal copy on me with a strong recommendation.  On my way to and from Colorado last week, I read about a protagonist (?) who gets hot more often than Death Valley in the summer.  A femme fatale if ever there was one, she kills without much thought.  Your fingers sizzle as you turn each page.  (See the great cover on the left.)

On the way to and from Orange County this weekend, I read Megan Abbott's Die A Little.  I met Megan at the late great ConMisterio conference in Austin.  Megan stands out among the menagerie of mystery writers because she has, of all things, a Ph.D. in American Lit from NYU.  Her thesis was on masculinity in noir novels and film.  But while some academics teach and let others do, Megan has put her studies to work in writing a 1950's style noir novel that deservedly won an Edgar nomination as best first novel.  The fascination of Die A Little is watching the schoolteacher heroine, Lora, find her bad side as her sister-in-law femme fatale insinuates the tawdry Hollywood lifestyle of sex and drugs into her life.

Reading can take you to places and situations you'd never go to on your own whether due to lack of time, air fare, or inclination.  Noir takes you to a crepuscular universe where the women are irresistible and amorality is the coin of the realm.  These two books put shivers up and down my spine.  But -- and there had to be a but -- in a crime novel, I'm not completely satisfied with the kind of moral ambiguity that noir features.  After reading both of these books, which are terrifically well-written, I'm left with literary indigestion.  In a crime novel, I want murderers identified and punished.  I want a hero, flawed as she or he might be, who rises to the occasion, who surmounts the odds that are stacked against her or him.

What do you think of noir?

Relatively Speaking

Saturday I flew down to Orange County to visit my Aunt Nadie, the only aunt or uncle by blood I have.  Given her innate sweetness, it's hard to believe there's any consanguinity at all.  She's not doing well.  On her birth date in 1923 she was as far away from Queen Victoria's marriage to Prince Albert as she was from today.  Amazing.

Then today was the first day of school for three of my four kids.  My fourteen-year old is starting high school, the same one I myself attended a few centuries ago.  I dropped her off and couldn't resist snapping a photo as she strode toward adulthood.

My aunt and children have me drenched in nostalgia today.  Will post more anon.

Bibiliophilia

Friday my daughter Helena called to report that there are 28 holds on Dot Dead at the Palo Alto Library.  We looked up some other books to put the number in perspective.  James Patterson's The Fifth Horseman has two holds; the only book we could find that came close was Daniel Silva's The Messenger, #1 on the Times bestseller list, with 24 holds.  To move things along, the library has ordered six more copies of Dot Dead to add to the original two.  I believe in the mission of libraries.  Right now though, I do feel a twinge of hypocrisy in wishing the two dozen holders had gone out and purchased the book instead of waiting for the email or post card from the library.  In any case, I guess there's at least one city where Dot Dot has bestseller appeal -- unsurprisingly, it's the burg where much of the book's action takes place. 

Dinner in Boulder

Last night I visited the High Crimes Mystery Book Store in Boulder.  Never been to Boulder before.  Nestled against the Rockies, boasting a walkable downtown, filled with as many two-wheel vehicles as four-wheelers, sporting plenty of book stores, Boulder, home to the University of Colorado, has plenty going for it.  When I was in Seattle a couple of weeks ago, I marveled at how many coffee shops where on each block.  In Boulder the beverage of choice is clearly not caffeinated; it's fermented.  It suits me better since nothing slakes my thirst like a cold beer.  I drink coffee only when I need a charge before speaking to a group of mystery lovers.  Anyway, High Crimes Book Store is cozy and chock-full of mysteries -- just the way a mystery book store should be.  My hosts, Cynthia and Susan, were welcoming and hospitable.  They had about eight chairs set up for those interested.  I think they wanted to keep expectations low.  We ended up with around 20 in the audience.  I cheated a little.  Cynthia told me that when J.A. Konrath visited the store, he went out to the sidewalk and inveigled passersby to come in.  Not to be one-upped, I did the same (assisted by Sandy of the local Sisters in Crime Chapter).  The audience applauded politely (enthusiastically?  I don't know; it's not for me to say) at the right parts and asked great questions.  For the first time, I did what an author should do after a reading -- repaired to the nearest bar.  I was joined by day job colleague Bob, his PR maven wife Dianne, my friend Cindy's pal Maryan, my old writing class buddy Ellen, and her friend Jody.  We sat in a sidewalk cafe where I sipped on Fat Tire beer, a local product.  What fun to talk about books, mysteries, literary PR, and life in Boulder as the sun set and tourists and Boulderites sauntered by!  Dianne is convinced that Dot Dead was mentioned in People or US or some such trashy magazine.  I'll believe it when I see it. 

This morning I appeared on the KMGH Channel 7 News.  Dr. Johnson said something like, "The prospect of a hanging concentrates the mind wonderfully."  So does live TV.  Off now to Murder by the Book in Denver and Borders in Englewood for more conversation about Dot Dead, mysteries, and high tech life.

P.S.  Can anyone tell me why Amazon.com's computers would think to pair sales of Dot Dead with the DVD of High School Musical?

Who? Me?

I'm not exactly sure what to think about Joe Hartlaub's review at Bookreporter.com.  He calls Dot Dead "without question the most impressive mystery debut of the year."  I would never have the chutzpah to make such a claim.  And I worry that readers will have inflated expectations.  And it increases the pressure on Book #2.  Still, thank you, Mr. Hartlaub.