Dot Dead Diary

From the Scrapbook: Bouchercon 2010

Bouchercon 2010 was in San Francisco, 32 miles north of where I live in Palo Alto. The tariff for parking was $60 on a weekday, so I hopped a train on Thursday, October 14. I meant to go to panels that morning, but somehow I kept getting waylaid.

One of my favorite things about Bouchercon is a catch-as-catch-can lunch. I had no plans. I bumped into pal Carla Buckley and by the time we'd made our way to the restaurant next door to the hotel, eleven of us were sitting around a table. Clockwise from the left, that's me, Andy Peterson, Dennis Pozzessere, Sharon Rowse, Rebecca Cantrell (or is that Bekka Black?), Kelli Stanley, Heather Graham, Josh Corin, Carla Buckley, and Steve Steinbock. Next day the same thing happened. Went out with a dozen friends. Sat next to the very busy and talented Robert Gregory Browne and old pal Stephen Jay Schwartz whose terrific second book is just out.

Thursday afternoon I showed up at my assigned panel, "The Most Deadly Species: Female Protagonists." The room was chock-full.

They sure as heck weren't there for me. Cornelia Read moderated. Can you see her down there at the far end? Tasha Alexander, Ronald Tierney, Larry Light, Meredith Anthony, and I were the ones responsible for answering her probing questions. When I told my agent I was on this panel, he asked why. I pointed out that my Smasher had a female protagonist. He said it didn't count since she spent over half the book in a coma. Good point, Josh. Anyway, I put in a plug for the 1930s Nancy Drew as a great prototype for female protagonists. She packed a rod and sure as hell did not wait for Ned Nickerson to save her.

Here's a photo from Thursday night's welcome reception that includes three glamorous crime fiction award winners and some balding joker. (From left, that's G.M. Malliet, Baldy, Hank Phillippi Ryan, and Lee Child.)

I went to Friday's panel on ancient Greek and Roman mysteries to meet Lindsey Davis. I came up with the name of my Child #2, now 18, when reading The Silver Pig, first in her Marcus Didio Falco series. I didn't ever get the chance to say hello, but hey, Lindsey, thanks!

I love the people who love to read crime fiction. Mary Jane Sheffel stopped me to tell me how much she loved my books. So shocked to hear this were fellow scribes Sharon Rowse (far left) and Shane Gericke (far right) that they joined Mary Jane and me in a photo.

Friday night Lori Armstrong (left) and Karen Olson (right), whom I met three years ago at SleuthFest in Florida, left the hotel looking for a bite. We discovered that in the Financial District not much was open on a weekend night. After wandering hither and yon for half an hour, we found ourselves at bar/cafe about two blocks away from the hotel. The three of us had a ball reminiscing and catching up. Only hope that what's said in San Francisco stays there.

. After dinner, we joined the raucous crowd at Lee Child's party for all Bouchercon attendees. (Lee is one generous guy.) That's IPPY winner and fellow Silicon Valley denizen Mark Coggins on the right with New York super-agents Josh Getzler and Donna Bagdasarian.

I wanted to see the panel on East Coast versus West Coast mystery writing, which quickly turned into a comparison of New York City and Los Angeles as settings from crime fiction. In the photo above, flanking one of my mystery-writing idols, Walter Mosley, are old pal Naomi Hirahara on the left and S.J. Rozan on the right. During the question period, I asked the panelists how show business in LA and the financial business of New York City influenced their books. I managed to get into a little verbal sniping with Mr. Mosley who didn't like my question at all. Naomi helped bail me out.

Saturday night I watched the Giants-Phillies game in the bar. Marcus Sakey didn't much care who won, until I promised him a drink of whatever he wanted if he'd root for the orange and black. So now he had a strong interest in the outcome and I had a lot of faith in his powers of persuasion. The Giants won. Gentleman that he is, Marcus tried to explain that his cheering did not affect the outcome. Bullshit. I bought him some old single malt. Best investment I ever made.

After the game was over, I hung with Midnight Ink's Terri Bischoff, the aforementioned Josh Getzler, Tyrus Books' Ben Leroy, and Denver's Linda Hull.

Damn. I drove in on Saturday and the garage where I parked closed at midnight. I left the bar (sober) at an early 11:45 and left Bouchercon behind. There were a couple of more panels on Sunday morning as well as the awards breakfast; however, my brother was visiting from Ohio....

It was great hanging out with old friends and making new ones (wish I had snapshots of them all), but the three days of camp were over. Sigh. Back to the salt mines.

Bouchercon? I'd Rather Starve

Let me generate some envy among my friends. While they're heading to Baltimore for four days of schmoozing, drinking, and carousing at Bouchercon, the world’s largest crime fiction conference, I am getting ready to spend a day meditating and praying and fasting. Let them eat (don’t say that word to me tomorrow) their hearts out.

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, starts this evening and the fasting that goes with it is supposed to encourage introspection, I guess. The rules are tough in one respect – no liquid or food from sundown tonight till darkness tomorrow – but reasonable in another: the young, elderly, nursing, pregnant, or sick are absolved from fasting. As regular readers of this blog know, I am a tea addict. The hot green liquid fuels my writing engine. Part of being an addict is craving. The other part is a physical reaction when your addiction goes unsatisfied. I qualify on that score, too. If I don’t have tea, I end up with a whopper of a headache. An iron band closes around my forehead, while the top of my head is used as an anvil by an invisible blacksmith. Several years ago a rabbi-friend told me that God doesn’t want me writhing in agony during services. So once or twice tomorrow, I’ll swallow a couple of Excedrin, a dry cocktail of aspirin, acetaminophen, and caffeine.

Living amidst the riches of Silicon Valley requires a level head and good balance. (One daughter had her locker next to a classmate’s whose father made more than $250M in salary and bonus in a single year.) Otherwise, one would spend all his time bursting with envy. An underestimated factor in garnering Silicon Valley wealth is luck. There used to be an eTrade billboard on 101 that said, “Someone will win the lottery. It just won’t be you.” Exactly. In the middle of a wall in my office, I have a piece of framed parchment with a quote from the ancient sage Ben Zoma. In Hebrew it asks, “Who is rich? The person who rejoices in what he has.” I keep trying to remember that as I watch my savings evaporate. I have my family, friends, colleagues, writing, and more – despite the confounded stock market, I need to rejoice more. A worthy resolution for year 5769 on the Jewish calendar, don’t you think?

May you all be sealed in the Book of Life for a good and sweet year.

Sitting in a Cafe Writing

Shelly King gets a few locals together for Wednesday night write-ins in a Mountain View cafe.  The thinking is that peer pressure will squeeze the words out of you.  It kind of works.  I promised an essay to a couple of authors who are putting together an advice-to-writers anthology and managed to knock out a first draft of 1200 words in two hours.  That's motoring for me.  (Maybe it was the caffeine in a large chai latte.)  So now at 8.15 PM I'm ready to go home, but my wife asked if I could pick up #2 from play practice at 9 since it's on my way home. 

Killing time, I just checked out worldcat.org and discovered that going to Bouchercon in Madison, Wisconsin looks like it paid off in an unexpected way.  The library there has just received two copies of Dot Dead and has two more on order.  Also learned that Sue Ann Jaffarian, whom I last saw at Bouchercon, has started a blog.  Sue Ann is funny and delightful in person and her blog shows every sign of being the same.  Check it out.

Bouchercon Part II: Summer Camp for Adults

I figured not much more would be going on at Bouchercon after my last posting.  I figured wrong.  Saturday morning I went to Brian Wiprud's "It's Where You Are Game Show."  It's hard to explain why it was so funny.  Brian's smarmy Richard Dawson impersonation, combined with the rapier wit of Jennifer Colt, the down-home humor of Lori Armstrong, the glamor and cleverness of Brett Ellen Block, and the straight man skills of Steve Brewer and Rick Mofina made for a rollicking hour.  Right after my last posting, I got on the elevator and who was there but Jennifer Colt?   If brains were six-shooters, Jennifer would be the fastest draw in the West.  By the time the two of us walked over to the auditorium for the Anthonys, we were friends.  (I'll be reading her The Mangler of Malibu Canyon and The Vampire of Venice Beach as soon as I can pick up copies at M Is for Mystery.)  After the awards were passed out, Brian and Lori joined us for drinks at the closest bar.  Later in the evening, at the Sisters in Crime 20th Anniversary bash, Jennifer introduced me to her taskmistress, the aforementioned Brett Ellen Block, whose The Lightning Rule will be out in three weeks.  Publisher's Weekly has already complimented its "flawless historical backdrop." 

Enough of life unreal.  I left for the airport Sunday morning at 7.  (Read Theresa Schwegel's Officer Down on the way home.  Easy to see why it won an Edgar.)  You know, these mystery conferences are summer camp for adults.  You meet people whom you really enjoy spending time with and then after a short time you go back to your quotodian life.  Am looking forward to the next camp session for a reunion.

Madison Madness

So much to catch up on.  I spent Wednesday in Rochester, Minnesota.  Hand-sold 18 more copies of Dot Dead at the B&N downtown.  Based on a limited-size pool, I'd say most buyers are women from 30 to 60.  Wednesday night my brother and sister-in-law had a reception at their house for 30-some people.  Lots of fun and we even sold a few dozen more books.

Thursday the logistics had to work just right.  I got on the road for the drive from Rochester to Madison, the site of this year's Bouchercon at 6.30AM.  For the first two-and-a-half hours of cruising down I-90, I listened to KCRW's recording of Ross MacDonald's The Angry Man, read by Stacy Keach, and Elmore Leonard's Karen Makes Out, read by Sharon Lawrence.  The first was good if predictable, the second wonderful.  Then at 9AM I had a conference call for my day job.  I kept listening and occasionally adding my two cents worth while I drove to the airport, turned in my car, took a cab to the conference, and stood in the hotel lobby.  Done just in time to make it to my panel, "The Non-detective Detective."  My new friend Maggie Sefton moderated, a sizable crowd of 40 or so listened, and I rambled on about the joys of writing about an everyman who finds himself sinking in perilous waters.  Afterwards, the panel participants all rushed to tables to sign books for the hordes of fans that would inevitably queue up to gain our precious signatures on soon-to-be-valuable first editions of our books.  Thanks goodness for Allyn and Lorri -- otherwise I would have been completely shut out.  I fell in with bad company Wednesday night, the First Offenders.  When the South Dakotan said she wanted to start drinking shots, I knew it was time for this old man to go back to his hotel room.

Friday.  Hmm.  Let me see?  What happened yesterday? Well, I was a room monitor for the first time since grade school at the panel on reviewer ethics.  (Covered in detail here.)  I did an hour of volunteer work as checker-inner at the reception desk.  My sole checker-innee was the guest of honor, Nevada Barr, who seemed both elegant and friendly.  Last night was a cocktail party thrown by Midnight Ink, my publisher, whose reputation for a great list and great cover art appears to grow from conference.  Kudos to the acquisition editor, Barbara Moore.  Afterwards had sushi (in Madison?) with fellow Midnight Inkers Chuck Zito and Nina Wright.  The aforementioned South Dakotan and Harry Hunsicker were both nominated for a Shamus for best first novel.  Alas, found them both in the bar a little after 11, neither with a winner's grin.

I'm staying in the Madison Concourse where most of Bouchercon is being held.  The hotel had allegedly been sold out for months, but I kept calling and got a reservation on the executive floor just last week.  Because of my high-falutin' status, there are chairs and a couch in the corridor just outside my room.  Late last night I found myself on one of those chairs chatting with the witty, engaging Janet Rudolph.  She's from Berkeley and I from Palo Alto.  We knew we had to have common acquaintances and eventually found them.  Just before we finished our conversation, Lee Child stepped up to the door of his room.  He could not get the electronic card to open the door.  I offered to help and got him in first try.  Somehow the entire episode seemed upside down.  It should be Jack Reacher helping the klutz, not the other way around.

Bestselling author Jeff Shelby, one of the Good Girls Who Kill for Money, Sara Rosett, and Shamus-nominee Harry Hunsicker.

It's not the Three Musketeers.  It's the First Offenders in a rare group photo.  From left, Jeff, Lori, Alison, and Karen.

The person with the best taste in the mystery biz, Barbara Moore, of Midnight Ink.

Deipnosophists and fellow Midnight Ink authors, Chuck Zito and Nina Wright.

What I passed in the streets of Madison on the way home from the bar.  Do you see it, too?