My Blog

I’d Like to Thank My Publicist, My Eyebrow Tweezer, and my Proctologist…

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The Los Angeles Times has announced their nominees for the book award in mysteries and, strangely, my latest DIAGNOSIS MURDER novel is overlooked. The nominees are:

Alan Furst, Dark Voyage: A Novel (Random House)
Henning Mankell, The Return of the Dancing Master [translated from the Swedish by Laurie Thompson] (The New Press)
Charles McCarry, Old Boys (Overlook Press)
Kem Nunn, Tijuana Straits: A Novel (Scribner)
Ian Rankin, A Question of Blood: An Inspector Rebus Novel (Little, Brown)

The LA Times loves Henning Mankell…I think this is his second or third nomination. I don’t get it, to be honest. I’ve read a few of his books, wanting to get on the bandwagon (bandwagons are so much fun, all that convivial back-slapping, hearty smiles, and good eating), but they left me cold. 

The judges also love George Pelecanos, who has won twice…once over my brother Tod (who, when George won the following year too, asked if he could have one of the awards. George wasn’t amused).  Luckily for Ian Rankin, George didn’t have a book out this year…but I hear they were thinking of nominating him on general principle.

It’s nice to see Kem Nunn on the list…and an old pro like Charles McCarry.  I remember reading McCarry’s TEARS OF AUTUMN years and years ago and loving it.  His nomination this year is a nice surprise…even though his book is still on my tottering TBR pile (which has become so big, the county is threatening to red tag my house as uninhabitable due to the risk of avalanche.  Suzanne Clarke’s JONATHAN STRANGE & MR. NORELL alone could crush my skull). I’ve got a copy of Alan Furst’s book in that pile somewhere, too. I’ll have to catch up on the LA Times nominees if I ever finish reading all of this year’s major Edgar nominees…

Frankenstein & Ally

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Frankensteinandally_1Tomorrow, I’ll be signing "Diagnosis Murder: The Waking Nightmare" at Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks, CA with that famous author, Madison Goldberg, who is touring to support her new bestseller, "Frankenstein & Ally and other Scary Stories." She’ll also be signing copies of her previous blockbustersRobotfighting_1 "The Adventures of Kitty Wonder:  Robot Fighting" and Lotsofkilling"Adventures of Kitty Wonder: Lots of Killing."  In addition to writing thrilling stories, she’s the artist behind her provocative covers (click on the pictures for larger images). I’m obviously riding on her pigtails…

The Birds and The Bees

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My daughter finally asked us The Big Question…. where do babies come from… though not in so many words. More like in so many questions.

She started one afternoon last week when she was alone with my wife.

"I know babies grow in a Mommy’s tummy," Maddie said.  "But how does it get there?"

My wife gave her a very romantic version, about how a man and a woman fall in love, and get married, and from their love comes a child. Maddie wasn’t satisfied with the Hallmark card approach.

"So what does the Dad do?" Maddie asked. "Give the Mommy a special pill?"

"No," my wife said, and explained that the man has the seed and the woman has the egg in her tummy. The man gives the seed to the woman and fertilizes the egg, which grows into a baby.

"How does he do that?"

"With his penis," my wife said bluntly.  "He puts his penis in the woman’s vagina."

Maddie’s eyes went wide and she said in horror: "You have GOT to be kidding."

And that was the end of that… not another word was said… until I got home.

We were in the car, on the way to dinner, when Maddie said:  "You won’t believe the story Mom told me today."

I had an idea what was coming. "What did she tell you?"

"I’m warning you, it’s GROSS. Mom said that to make a baby, a man puts his penis in a woman’s vagina!" Maddie said laughing a little too hard. "She really said that."

"It’s true."

"I’d like the real story." Maddie said.

"That’s it," I said.

"No way," Maddie said. "Tell me the truth." 

"It’s the truth," I said and I explained again  about the seed and the egg.  I glanced in the rearview mirror and could see Maddie staring at me hard.  "I’m not kidding, honest."

"I don’t understand," she said.  "Where do you get the seed? And how can you hold it with your… thingie?"

"It’s not like a pumpkin seed or an apple seed," I said.

"I don’t get it," she said.

So I explained about sperm while my wife squirmed in her seat, afraid I was going to go into too much detail.  She didn’t have to worry. I wasn’t ready to go into any more detail, either…unless pressed.

"Is it hard to get the seed into a lady?" Maddie asked.

"Oh yeah," I said.

My wife stifled a giggle.

I braced myself for more questions. And to my great relief, and my wife’s, Maddie decided that was enough for one night.

But there’s always tomorrow…

The Mystery Bookstore Mystery

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It was the talk of Left Coast Crime in El Paso, whispered in the corridors, at the bar, and by the Spanish-speaking cashiers at the Arby’s across the street…

Have you heard about Shelly?

2larcandshellyThey were talking, of course, about Sheldon MacArthur, the  proprietor of the Mystery Book Store in Westwood (and, for many years before that, The Mysterious Bookshop in West Hollywood).  For a little guy, he’s one of the biggest personalities (and opinion-makers) in the Southern California mystery scene… the Yoda of crime writing.  If you’re serious about mystery novels,  as a writer or a fan, you make the pilgrimmage to his store to get his advice and his blessing.  He’s a polarizing character… people either love him or hate him.  I’m one of the guy’s who loves him… I was a loyal customer long before I was an author and I can sit for hours talking about mysteries with him.

Well, I could...

Lately, he’s been missing from the store and rumors about his disappearance are running rumpant.  The story is that he’s on "extended leave." But I’ve heard lots of other explanations. Some say he had a nasty fight with the other investors in the store and he was kicked out. Others say he’s left to deal with a family emergency. Then there are those persistent rumblings about satan worship,  gambling debts to the mob, and wild sex parties involving cats, quilts, and people dressing up as Robert Crais and Gregg Hurwitz.

I was in the store earlier this week and tried pumping the staff oh-so-subtly for information ("So, what’s the real story with Shelly? Is he sick? Has he been fired? Is he having an Extreme Make-Over?"), but they were tight-lipped. All they would tell me, Stepford-like, was that he was "on an extended leave."

So is  Jimmy Hoffa, if you know what I mean.

The Mystery Bookstore’s anniversary party is this Saturday… and if he’s not there, his absense is sure to be a hot topic among the mystery writers and fans in attendance (who will include Robert B. Parker, Thomas Perry, Tod Goldberg, Patricia Smiley, Jerrilyn Farmer, Don Winslow,  April Smith, Gregg Hurwitz, Bill Fitzhugh, Scott Frost, and, of course, yours truly).

I’ll report back on Sunday…

(that’s Shelly in the picture with Bob, who is doing his "I’m a grim mystery writer" face. I hear they have consultants now who teach mystery writers how to look street instead of cul-de-sac. Either Bob is practicing the face, or he just heard his production bonus check for HOSTAGE got lost in the mail. You can click on the photo for a larger image)

Adult Material

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The recent discussion here about "adult material" in my DIAGNOSIS MURDER books reminded me of a book signing I did a while ago.  I spoke to an audience of retirees in the auditorium at a retirement home. When I was done with my presentation, an elderly man raised his hand.

"Yes, sir, do you have a question?" I said.

"Who are you?" he asked.

At that point, I had just finished speaking about myself, and the books that I write, for about 15 minutes. 

"I’m Lee Goldberg," I said. "I’m an author."

I quickly turned my attention to a woman raising her hand. "Yes, ma’am."

She smiled sweetly. "You are such a nice young man. I’m so glad you came today. Have you written anything I might have read?"

I motioned to the books next to me. "These. The Diagnosis Murder books. The ones I was just talking about."

"Oh," she said. "I’m not familiar with those."

I turned to someone else with a raised hand. "Yes, ma’am, do you have a question?"

She looked at me sternly. "Is there any explicit sex in your books?"

"No," I said. "They are squeaky clean."

She shook her head, a frown on her face. "Then I’m not reading them."

Be Warned

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I saw BE COOL, the GET SHORTY sequel, last night (it was our date night and there were no other movies to see).  I can review it succinctly with two words: DON’T BOTHER (or is that technically three words, since "Don’t" is short for "Do Not?"). Not that I’ve reviewed it succinctly, I’ll ramble a bit… GET SHORTY was a great movie. BE COOL is not. Everything that worked in GET SHORTY doesn’t in BE COOL.  The only thing the least bit amusing in BE COOL is The Rock’s performance as a gay bodyguard…which, in a way, should tell you all you need to know about this movie.

By the way, is there an unwritten rule in Hollywood that Vince Vaughan or Jude Law has to be in every movie that’s made?

Don’t Pay Them, They Pay You

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Prolific author Lynn Viehl (well, that’s one of her pen-names, anyway) remembers the temptation, back when she was an aspiring author (or is it authors in her case?),  to sign with one of those agents who tried to steer her into a book doctor scam.  the book doctor said her manuscript needed work… and it would cost $1300 to fix it up. She almost wrote the check…but thought better of it, despite his dire warnings that she was making a grave mistake. A few years later, the "agent" and the "book doctor" got nailed by the law for defrauding 3600 people with their phony literary agency and publishing house.  As she says, "aspiring writers, make it your mantra:  you don’t pay them, they pay you."

“Shannon Elizabeth Remembers She’s a Celebrity, Divorces Fat Man”

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That headline, from the blog TVgasm, made me laugh out loud…  the rest of the post is pretty funny, too.

All things come in three’s, including celebrity break-ups.

Last night American Pie masturbating chick filed for divorce from
LOST’s Hurley. (ok not really) This break-up was taken particularly
hard by fat, hairy unnattractive men everywhere who thought, "See, it
could happen to me." No, fat man…it can’t.

Shannon forwent the usual "irreconcilable differences" claim, rather
filing under the less oft used, "He stopped hypnotizing me" defense.