I am off to Pittsburgh tomorrow to speak on Friday at Duquesne University’s Cyril H. Wecht Institute of Forensic Science and Law’s eighth annual "Where Fact Meets Fiction" conference. I’ll be joined by my friend Doug Lyle, author of FORENSICS AND FICTION, as well as Robert Tanenbaum, Jan Burke, Linda Fairstein, CSI producer David Berman, CRIMINAL MINDS producer Andrew Wilder, 48 HOURS producer Gail Zimmerman, FORENSIC FILES producer Kelly Ann Martin, and a long list of judges, criminalists, cops, FBI agents, scientists and scholars. This should be interesting, because I know nothing about forensics and only slightly more about writing.
Me Me Me
Return to the Past
I just got back from our whirlwind road trip through central, northern, and coastal California. Along the way, we stopped in Capitola, where I spent most of my weekends as a child. The cabin we used to stay in (the yellow one), and the beach haven’t changed much. The village is much more "upscale" compared to the shabby, hippie-dippy feel it had in the late 1960s and early 1970s when I was there but I was relieved to see that it hadn’t lost any of its charm. It’s basically the same as it always was.
I sat on the beach and watched the kids playing. They were about eight or nine years old. I could have been looking forty-some years back in time at myself and my friends. I know it’s a cliche to say this, but it seems like it was a much more innocent time when I was growing up…or maybe we were more naive. I’d have breakfast with my parents and then they wouldn’t see me again until dinner, unless I was playing on the beach or in the river. Otherwise, I’d roam freely all over town, visiting the used bookstore, shopping at Disco (a Wal-Mart
type store in its day), playing with my friends, having an ice cream at the Dairy Queen, walking to the Crockers in Soquel for a cheeseburger, or looking at the magazines at Nussbaum’s grocery store. Some times I’d run into my Mom, who would be shopping for antiques, chatting with the artists at the galleries, or browsing the clothes at the Plum Tree. My Dad always stayed outside the cabin, reading books or chatting with the neighbors. Even at night, we were allow to go off on our own to play Skeeball until 9 pm.
If I had a cabin there today, I would never let my daughter roam around town unsupervised…and she’s twelve. When I was a kid, I knew all the shopkeepers and they all knew me. So, in a sense, the town was watching out for me. Maybe that would also be true today
for my daughter…but I doubt it.
When I think of the freedom I had when I was my daughter’s age and younger…and, by contrast, how much we supervise her….I wonder if times have changed or if I am being over-protective.
(You can click on the photos for larger images)
Absent from Duty
Sorry I haven’t been posting much lately — I’ve been working hard on my seventh MONK book (due April 30th) and a couple of other projects, which hasn’t left me much time for the blog (or The Bog as Paul Guyot used to call it). What’s nice is that now I can call Bill Rabkin and my brother Tod and whine to them about meeting my deadlines. I was doing that before, but now that they are also juggling tie-in writing assignments with their other work, they know first-hand what I am going through. I am looking forward to this summer, when Tod and I will both have new books out and can do signings together, and next January, when Tod, Bill and I will all have books out at the same time. It should be fun… certainly more so than hitting the signing trail alone.
Kentucky Woman, She Shines in her Own Kind of Light
I’ve got some good news to share…my original screenplay "Mapes For Hire," based on my novel THE
MAN WITH THE IRON-ON BADGE, has been nominated for an Angie Award at the second annual International Mystery Festival in Owensboro, Kentucky …even better, the script will be performed on stage like an old-time radio show during the festival at the Riverpark Center. Other nominees in this category include scripts by Ray Bradbury, Rupert Holmes, and my friend Robert S. Levinson, so I am in very good company.The winner gets a statuette, a couple of grand in cash, and maybe even a bucket of Colonel Sanders fried chicken. All of that would be nice, but I can’t wait to "hear" my script performed, which is prize enough for me.
Who Needs Tums? Read My Books Instead
Today I was on a panel with Steve Cannell, Harley Jane Kozak, Dr. D.P. Lyle and my brother Tod at the spectacular Cerritos Library for their annual "Mystery on the Menu" program. It was my first time there and I was stunned by the library — it looks like Rick Caruso (developer of The Grove) and the Disney Imagineers teamed up to design the place. I have never seen anything like it, so rather than describe it, you can look at it for yourself here in 360 degree views. The visit to the library alone was well worth the trip. I had a great time, and caught up with Kirk Russell, Richard Greer, Patricia Smiley, Jerrilyn Farmer and Earlene Fowler, among other authors.
The "Murder on the Menu" program is a lot like the "Men of Mystery" event…each author is at a table with ten guests and does a "table talk" at lunch, giving the attendees a chance to get up-close-and-personal with the authors. I had some really interesting discussions with a lot of bright and creative people. But I also had more than my share of strange encounters.
"I love your books," one woman said.
"Thank you," I replied.
"They are so relaxing," she said. "And they really help my digestion."
I think I am going to put that on the cover of my next book. It’s the best comment I’ve had since the San Francisco Chronicle called my book UNSOLD TV PILOTS "The best bathroom reading ever."
Another woman picked up one of my books and asked:
"Is this one good?"
"No," I said. "It’s awful. I wrote it while I was trying to kick my heroin addiction."
"Really?"
"No."
"Then why did you say that?"
"What did you expect me to say?" I replied. "Of course I think it’s good. I wrote it."
"Well," she said. "I was hoping for your honest opinion."
Not one minute later, another woman (the audience was 99 % women) picked up one of my books and asked me:
"How much did it cost you to publish this?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Really?" she asked. "What about the other authors? What did they pay?"
"Nothing," I said. "We all got paid to write our books."
"Is that something new?"
"No," I said.
"I thought everybody had to pay," she said.
"No," I said. "That’s not the way it works."
"That’s not what I’ve heard," she said.
I quickly educated her in how the business works. And after my long speech, she nodded and asked.
"How much did it cost you to get an agent?"
A woman at my able bought Doug Lyle’s excellent FORENSICS FOR DUMMIES book and asked me:
"You’re friends with Dr. Lyle, aren’t you?"
"Yes, I am," I said. "He’s also my doctor."
"How did he get away with calling his book FORENSICS FOR DUMMIES without getting sued by the DUMMIES people?"
"They were the ones who hired him to write the book," I said.
"Really?" she said. "So that’s how you do it."
But I think the best question I got asked came from a woman at my table who said she’d been writing novels for years but hadn’t had any luck getting them published and wanted my advice.
"I write them by hand in spiral-bound notebooks," she said. "I have written a dozen novels."
"And then what do you do with them?"
"I put them in a box in my attic," she said.
I looked at her. "You haven’t sent them to any publishers?"
She shook her head.
"You haven’t written any query letters to agents or publishers?"
She shook her head again.
"So how do you expect them to get published?"
She shrugged.
"Did you think someone was just going to knock on your door one day and ask if you have any novels written on spiral notebooks that he can read?"
She shrugged again. "That’s the part I was hoping you could clear up for me."
I haven’t compared notes yet with Tod to see what strange conversations he had, but I’m sure he’ll blog about it if he had any…
Socializing and stuff
I’ve run into a lot of old friends on the picket line and it has been great catching up with them. It’s made me wonder why it took a strike for me to finally see them again. So one of my new year’s resolutions is to stay in better touch with my friends.
The day before going to NY last week, I had breakfast with actors Erin Cahill and Maurice Roeves from my movie FAST TRACK (not that I had lost touch with them) and then lunch with Javier Grill0-Marxuach, best known for his work on LOST. I enjoyed hearing about his terrific experience shooting his pilot THE MIDDLEMAN and recalling our time together on SEAQUEST. It’s nice to see that he’s every bit as boyishly enthusiastic about the biz as he was when we first met.
Today I got a 24-hour reprieve from jury duty, so I was able to grab lunch with Terry Winter, best known for his work on THE SOPRANOS, who had me laughing so hard with anecdotes and stories that I nearly choked on my club sandwich more than once. And tonight I had dinner with Carl Strueck, our stunt coordinator from FAST TRACK, who is visiting L.A. with his lovely wife.
Seeing more of my friends has nothing to do with "networking" and everything to do with simply staying connected to people whose company I enjoy…especially those who, with the exception of a few email exchanges and occasional phone calls, I haven’t actually seen in a while.
I’ve also been doing a lot of writing (nothing for studios or networks, of course!). Mostly I have been working on my books. But I optioned an Edgar-nominated crime novel a year ago and the strike has given me the opportunity (and the time) to finally write the script. I know many other writers who have used the "down time" to write that personal "passion project" that they haven’t had time to get around to….until now. I’m sure that once the strike is over, Hollywood will probably be flooded with fresh material. I hope mine won’t get lost in the script tsunami.
Things have been hectic at home. My daughter got a 3-month old puppy from the pound and it’s like having a baby in the house again. Our nights are, to put it mildly, a challenge lately. But the puppy is adorable and sweet and learning fast.
Tomorrow I am free from jury duty again…but tomorrow I have to call in again and see if I am needed to bring justice to the lawless west.
New York, NY
My Dell laptop crashed on my first night in NY…this is the second time this has happened, and I had to spend 2 1/2 hours on the phone with Dell before they, too, were convinced that my computer had, indeed, crashed again (this brings my total time spent on the phone to customer support to seven hours since I bought this computer). So they are sending a guy out to my house next week to replace the motherboard and the hard disc, which means I can’t do any writing this weekend (I am posting this on the hotel computer).
I spent Friday walking all over Manhattan, first to The Strand to browse the used books, and then to lunch with my editor, publisher and agent. I am pleased to report that the MONK books are doing very, very well and that there will likely be more to come after my current contract ends this Spring. They are also very excited about the BURN NOTICE books from my brother Tod and the PSYCH novels from my writing partner Bill Rabkin. This time next year, Tod, Bill and I will be doing lots of signings together to promote our new books.
After the meeting, I went to a few more bookstores…and stumbled into a sale at Taschen, where I bought lots of big, heavy books that I had to lug around to Partners & Crime, which hosted a signing party for all the MWA Board members in town. I caught up with Joseph Finder, Lee Child, Harlan Coben, Harry Hunsicker, Les Klinger, Louise Ure, Charles Todd and many more folks. Everyone was very excited about the list of Edgar nominees that was announced yesterday and there was lots of discussion about the WGA strike. I got the latest on Lee, Joseph and Harlan’s pre-strike Hollywood adventures.
The party soon moved to a Chinese restaurant, where we gorged ourselves for a few more hours before Les and I decided to walk the 40 blocks back to our hotel. All in all, a long, fun, and exhausting day.
Today I won’t be getting nearly as much exercise. I’ll be locked in a board meeting all day and then tonight it’s another big dinner with the Board….and then tomorrow I return to L.A.
The Jewless Jew
My flight to New York was filled with orthodox Jews with the beards, the yamulkes, the hats, the whole deal. If we’d had a horse-drawn cart, some milk and some cheese we could have staged the opening musical number from FIDDLER ON THE ROOF.
Midway through the flight, I got up to stretch my legs and use the restroom. When I got out, I bumped into this young boy, maybe 12 years old, who looked at me and asked:
“Are you Jewish?”
“Yes,” I replied.
He immediately ran back down the aisle to his father, who stood up, offered me his hand, and then started talking to me in Hebrew. Or at least I think it was Hebrew.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Hebrew,” I said. “I’m not a practicing Jew.”
“But you’re Jewish,” he said.
“Yes, I am,” I said. “Have a good trip.”
I started down the aisle, but he wouldn’t let me pass. He said something else to me in Hebrew.
“I have no idea what you’re saying,” I said. “I am a very Jewless Jew.”
“Did you have a Bar Mitzvah?”
“Nope,” I said. “And I don’t celebrate passover. And I had bacon for breakfast yesterday. I’m watching my carbs.”
“Where are you sitting?” he asked.
“Up there,” I said, gesturing to the front of the plane. And as he turned to look, I used the opportunity to slip past him and return to my seat.
I settled in, and was starting to watch 30 ROCK on my iPod, when the guy, his kid, and a bearded man in a long, black coat showed up at my seat.
“This is our Rabbi,” the guy said.
The Rabbi introduced himself, asked me my name, and the next thing I knew, they stuck a yamulke on my head and started chanting something in Hebrew.
I began to protest, but then the kid started wrapping my arm with some kind of leather strap and I figured I’d just let them do their thing. The guy put a card, written in Hebrew in front of me, and told me to repeat after him. I did, if only to get the whole awkward scene over with.
The people sitting next to me looked like they wanted to crawl under their seat and hide. I would have liked to join them but the Jewish kid had me lassooed pretty good.
The three Jews finished up, congratulated me on this very special day in my life, slipped a card in my hand and returned to their seats. The card had a photograph of a rabbi on the front and on the back there were illustrations of the steps in something called the Mitzvah Campaign. I’m not sure, but judging by the drawing, I think one of the steps, Tefillin, had something to do with what they did to me. You tell me. What was all that about?
To The Big Apple
I’ll probably be scarce here over the next few days. I am leaving for New York on Thursday morning to attend the first Mystery Writers of America board meeting for the new year and my annual get-together with my publisher, editor and agent.
I’ll also be doing a booksigning on Friday night, 6-8 pm, at
Partners & Crime. If you happen to be in NY, stop by and say hello.
I’m back on Sunday…and then I have jury duty starting on Tuesday. But with the strike going on, it’s not like jury duty is going to cut deep into my work.