Author Archives: Murderati

Notes from the Underground

When I was in high school, I took a career assessment exam, and discovered that I was wired to become either a traveling salesman, a playwright, or an undertaker (well, perhaps a prettier word is bereavement counselor). Imagine my disappointment. Singularly each job didn’t seem that impressive to a teenager, and together they formed a bizarre Frankensteinian figure. What kind of monster would I become?

Well, more than two decades later, I use some aspects of those occupations in my work as a writer and editor. It has become even more evident during these past couple weeks of whirlwind promotional and educational activities.

TRAVELING SALESMAN

What’s more Willie Loman than traveling solo to far-flung areas with only a single suitcase filled with books and postcards in hand? I certainly felt that way when I arrived in Norman Mineta San Jose International Airport last Thursday. One thing I soon discovered, getting a fun rental car can ease the bite of loneliness on the road. PT Cruisers are the best and they have a lot of drink holders for all the liquids necessary for a self-financed book tour.

Northern California can be divided, generally speaking for mystery writers, in three easy pieces:

1) Peninsula (San Jose, Sunnyvale, Mountain View–Books Inc., Menlo Park–Kepler’s, Palo Alto–Books Inc., Redwood City, and San Mateo) anchored by "M" Is for Mystery in San Mateo.

2) San Francisco, or "The City," anchored by the San Francisco Mystery Bookstore. (I’d also include Corte Madera’s Book Passage–a quick and wonderful drive over the bridge. Have that five-dollar bill ready for the toll on the way back.)

3) East Bay (Berkeley, Oakland, Danville–Rakestraw Books) anchored by Dark Carnival in Berkeley.

I’ve done drive-by or stop-in signings in the past at all these regions, but this time I concentrated my efforts in the first, the Peninsula.

The nice thing about the Peninsula is that it’s usually ten degrees warmer than San Francisco and on Thursday, it was sunny and about 80 degrees. Nirvana. Another strong point is parking is usually easily available in neighboring lots. Double or maybe triple nirvana. Before you go on out-of-town drop-by signings, try to call stores two weeks ahead of time to make sure they have your books on hand. Of course, I didn’t do that (see my last Murderati blog entry for my recent state of mind) and I learned the code phrase "shortlist." I thought "shortlist" was a term reserved solely for awards and honors, but apparently in the Barnes and Noble world, it also means to stock stores with small orders of a certain title. "You don’t have it? Can you shortlist it? Five books–sounds good."

My yellow-brick road in San Jose turned out to be Saratoga Boulevard. As you cultivate your readership, you get a sense of who your prime demographic is. As I passed a mini-mall called Strawberry Plaza and spied a Mitsuwa Market and Kinokuniya bookstore, I knew that I was nearing the heart of my readers. Upon seeing a RingerHut Nagasaki Champon restaurant (what the heck?), I knew that I had entered the Emerald City. The Barnes and Noble there on Saratoga had two copies of SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN, which were promptly sold. On my way back to 880, I stopped by Kinokuniya to meet the manager and had a great discussion about the popularity of mysteries in Japan. He told me that the Japanese translation of Nina Revoyr’s book, Southland, was on Japan’s list of best mysteries. Congrats to Nina and good news for everyone writing about ethnic Americans.

To reward myself for making some great contacts, I went into Mitsuwa Market and bought myself a tall bottle of Calpico, manufactured by Calpis, which for obvious reasons changed the name of its product for the American market. It’s a yogurt flavored beverage that I grew up with in L.A.–so, in a sense, my comfort drink.

I did the same after my gig at the Clark County Library in Las Vegas on Sunday. I drove into downtown Las Vegas and headed straight for the California Hotel and Casino, where I ordered a bowl of saimin (Hawaiian noodles) with haupia (coconut pudding) to go along with the Ross MacDonald book I was reading. If this isn’t the life of a mystery author, I don’t know what is.

PLAYWRIGHT

I’ve never written a play, but I’ve been in my share of plays in college. (BTW, I would recommend all aspiring writers to take an acting or speech class–so helpful for those speaking engagements.) So the thing about playwriting vs. book writing, playwrights have a lot more interaction with other people, including not only the director but the actors.

Although I’m in my soul of souls introverted, I do like people in reasonable doses. So it’s been nice not only to meet booksellers on the road, but also other literary folks at conferences and seminars. Before I left for my out-of-town book tour, I had a great time with people at our planning sessions for the inaugural Asian Pacific American Book Festival, scheduled for Los Angeles on May 12, 2007 (so put that on your calendars). It was great to hang out with old friends–David Mas Masumoto and others–as well as hear dynamic speakers such as Shawn Wong. I moderated a publishing panel, which included Patricia Wakida of Heyday Books, Dana Goldberg of Children’s Book Press, agent Sandra Zane of Global Literary Management, agent Taryn Fagerness of Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency, and Philip Lee, cofounder and former publisher of Lee and Low Books.

Some topics of interest: Taryn advises newbie writers seeking agents to place a positive blurb from a bookseller in their query letters–what a great idea. And for those who underestimate the power of reviews, Philip explained how the first children’s book Lee and Low published–BASEBALL SAVED US by Ken Mochizuki–sold half a million copies after a full-page review in the New York Times by a sports writer! Amazing.

UNDERTAKER

There’s a lot of grief and loss involved in getting a book published. Loss of privacy. Grief over what you didn’t include but should have. Final surrender of the manuscript to the world. I won’t even go into the tragedy involved in selling the book.

One of my goals in creating my character of Mas Arai was giving a name to the unnamed gardener in movies like "Chinatown." And not only a name, but a voice. If you think about it, that’s what an undertaker or bereavement counselor should do. Not only help with the grief but also celebrate a single life.

Three specific people who attended my reading at Kinokuniya Bookstore in San Francisco’s Japantown made a profound impact on my husband and I. One was a man named Isao, a retired photographer who used to work at the College of San Mateo. He had followed the whole Mas Arai series and was now in the middle of SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN. I could tell that he experienced great joy in reading references about Japanese American history and culture, pieces of his own life. The other was a woman about my age with long, flowing strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes. She was originally from Pasadena, but had relocated to San Francisco. As we talked, I discovered that her grandmother was from Okinawa, the subject of SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN. She was with her nephew, a medium-framed young man with short-cropped blond hair. They, along with other relatives, would be traveling to Okinawa later this year.

We authors want as many people as possible to read our books, but we may have an ideal reader in mind. I think I met three of them in San Francisco on a rainy Friday evening.

Cliff Notes! Three Top Reasons to Do Out-of-Town Book Signings

1) Meet fans/readers/booksellers and be reunited with old friends. (A shout-out to my Stanford buddies Russell and Mark–great to see you guys. And it’s always good to spend time with the kind folks at "M" is for Mystery and the San Francisco Mystery Bookstore. Thanks also to Kinokuniya’s Richard Matsuno and the Clark County Library’s Suzanne Scott.)

2) Be introduced to new geographic areas (Mas investigating a murder in San Francisco Japantown or Silicon Valley? Possibilities, possibilities.)

3) Have an excuse to buy new clothes. (Obviously the best reason. After so many years being content to work in T-shirts and sweat pants, I can now break out on occasion to buy real clothes! Now mind you–my favorite TV show these days is WHAT NOT TO WEAR on TLC, so be aware of how shallow and cruel I really am.)

FINAL TWO WEEKS OF SPAM: Who says we aren’t doing some great things at Murderati? Remember last week’s SPAM dilemma–a reader had lost a recipe for her beloved Touchdowners. Well, another reader, Janet Cearley, has come to the rescue with this e-mail:

The recipe which I have (also a childhood favorite) is made with bologna, but I think otherwise it is the same.

1 lb. bologna
3/4 lb. sharp cheddar grated
1/4 c. prepared mustard
1/3 c. mayonnaise
1 T minced or grated onion
2 T sweet pickle relish

Grind bologna. Add other ingredients and mix well. Spread on hamburger buns and wrap in foil. Bake at 325 for 25 minutes.

Thank you, Janet! If I’m aiding people to recreate their childhood comfort food, what’s next? Evil E (also known as Elaine Flinn) giving advice to the lovelorn? Anything is possible.

And for those of you who’ve had enough of the Spam, rest assured, it’ll be over in two weeks with the winner being announced on June 7!!! So send your entries in to nhirahara@juno.com. And like always, see the website for more info.

QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

Beatrice is busy writing what she calls "chick-lit erotica," so she begged me to tell you that the link she gave you last week for her book JAMES DEAN AND THE MOONLIGHT MADNESS SALE is wrong, wrong, wrong! (Actually, she said "wrong" 6 times!) Bea says the best way to find James Dean is to visit Deni’s website and hit the link for Beatrice Brooks.

I [Deni] was planning to blog about gender preferences–do readers prefer books written by men or women, or does it matter?–but Jeff Cohen did a much better [and much funnier] job with that subject. All I’ll add is that, at one point in my career, I wrote horror stories under the pseudonym "King Stephens." Those stories are Out Of Print [also known as OOP, an acronym I love], but maybe some day I’ll resurrect them.

And so my subject this week will be. . .

[MORE] MISSED-CONCEPTIONS ABOUT THE PUB BIZ

1) My son and his partner, a chef at the 5-star Broadmoor Hotel, wanted to open a restaurant. The woman who owned the building didn’t want to lease to a kid with hair down to his butt [my son]. But when she heard that I would co-sign the lease, she was ecstatic. She had read my first two published mysteries and figured I was . . . what’s the expression? Oh yeah, rolling in dough. Hahhahahahaha.

2) I was a lecturer for Weight Watchers when I had the idea for THROW DARTS AT A CHEESECAKE—killing off dieters when they reached their goal weights. At which point, I quit my "real job" and started waiting tables so I’d have more time to write. This is just temporary, I thought. I’ll sell my book to a major publisher (I liked kangaroos, so that meant Pocket) and soon I’ll be rolling in dough. Seven years later, I sold "Cheesecake" on a two-book contract and wrote BEAT UP A COOKIE.

3) In the beginning of a waitress career that spanned 17 years [I kid you not], I looked for PR opportunities–a way to slip my author’s status into the conversation. But early on I figured what the…heck.

"How’s your lasagna?" I’d ask. "And by the way, I’m a published author."

Across the street from The Olive Garden—the restaurant where I worked when my first book came out—a B Daltons carried Throw Darts at a Cheesecake. The manager, Richard, ordered 100 hardcovers from my publisher, Walker. The first month he sold 98 and I made my first bestseller list. So now I could quit waiting tables, right? Surely you jest!

My "guests" [the people I served] would almost always say, "If you’re a published author, why are you working as a waitress?" I’d respond, "Shhhh, I’m undercover, planning to write the quintessential restaurant exposé."

When I began writing EYE OF NEWT, I worked at a restaurant in Manitou Springs, Colorado, where you can find Covens in the phone directory under ‘C’. People would oft ask what book I was working on. When I said a mystery starring a witch, they’d reach for their wallets and hand me a business card. "Call me if you need any advice," they’d say. Eye of Newt takes place in the fictitious town of Manitou Falls, Colorado, nestled between Manitou Springs and Green Mountain Falls.

I can sell you a map, if you like. It’ll supplement my writer’s income.

Since I run an editing service – Stray Cat Productions – next week I’ll tell you some funny editing stories.

Or would you rather hear funny waitress stories?

Over and Out,
Deni

PS- Here are my answers to some of the blogtag questions Pari asked last
week:

4 Movies You Would Watch Over and Over:

Diggstown
The Lion King / Beauty and the Beast [tie]
The Shawshank Redemption
Johnny Depp [in anything]

4 Places You Have Lived:

Colorado
Wisconsin
New York City
Houston

4 TV Shows You Love To Watch:

House
Medium
Cold Case
NFL Football (Go Broncos!)

4 Places You Have Been on Vacation:

Australia
L.A.
Indiana
Florida

4 Of Your Favorite Foods:

Cheesecake
Custard-filled doughnuts
Shrimp with lobster sauce
Pizza

[And I’ll add] 4 Authors Who Made Me Want To Become a Writer:

William Goldman
Anya Seton
Susan Isaacs
John Steinbeck

Il Faut Cultiver Votre Jardin

Pari Noskin Taichert

The title of my post today is in French. I figure a little erudition might start the work week off right. Voltaire put the above famous words into the mouth of Pangloss, an extraordinary optimist, in his book CANDIDE. It’s the character’s stock response to all trials and tribulations: "You must cultivate your garden."

I’ve been thinking about how so much of marketing involves this Panglossian focus — especially when it comes to book signings. I read the debates on listservs and blogs about their merits and disadvantages and am disturbed. Frankly, signings have gotten a bad rap because we’ve got our heads screwed on at a lousy angle when it comes to this subject.

Ah, let me put on my therapist’s hat for a minute . . . (For those of you who don’t know me, I actually have a nice chapeau ["hat" in French] with a tassel from the University of Michigan School of Social Work where I trained to be a therapist in grad school.)

To put it plainly, I think most writers who dis signings — specifically at bookstores — are victims of their own inflated sense of self-worth.

Ouch! I can hear the slings of anger already. But think about it. We’re perfectly happy to let other people sell our books for us at stores. Aren’t we? So why do we get pissy if we have to do it ourselves?

I think it’s because we expect to be worshiped. On some level, we buy into the idea that we’re special, that people should be impressed — that our work should zip to the cash register simply because OH, MARVELOUS WE have written it and are deigning to make a divine visitation somewhere.

Come on. The world’s a big place and, face it, most of us are little sprouts.

Somehow, though, our egos are the size of redwoods.

The reality is, when we get to bookstores, the majority of people there don’t care. They haven’t heard of us (this often includes the staff) — even if the bookstore has sent out notices, newsletters — even if we’ve gotten local coverage on television, radio or in print.

It’s a slap to our egos. Hence the raging discussions on the internet. We hide behind complaints to salvage our self confidence: My feet hurt. The taxi is dirty. My time is worth more than this. I only sold three books. Wah.

If it’s a formal signing — one with a presentation — we get upset if only a handful of people show up.

If it’s the sit-at-the-front-of-the-store variety — we moan and groan about having to peddle our wares to strangers; it feels like we’re shysters or hucksters.

We’re never really satisfied. We often forget to be grateful.

"Why bother?" we whine.

Well, grasshoppers, Il Faut Cultiver Notre* Jardin. That’s why. And, no garden grows without work and a vision. Book signings are among the hardiest seeds we can plant — the marketing seeds — to further our careers.

1. They help us know — and be known by — booksellers who then hand-sell our work long after we leave.

2. They introduce us to those folks who don’t care about us . . . but might, if given a reason.

3. If we get media attention, book signings help increase our name recognition so that someone might want to buy our books in the future.

And then there’s the YNK (You Never Know) factor that fertilizes possibilities beyond our wildest imaginations. YNK is my favorite part of the book signing process. It’s the sure knowledge — based now on tangible experience — that someone with whom I speak at a signing might become a friend, a reader, or a person who’ll go out and champion my books better than I can.

Okay, okay . . . I have a bit of a disclaimer: not every author should do signings. Painfully shy people should avoid them and concentrate on internet efforts. Intrinsically nasty, mean writers should decline offers, too.

But, for most of us, they remain effective. It’s time to stop the unbecoming whining and the sniveling short-sighted debates. Let’s get past our egos and cultivate relationships with our audiences (booksellers, readers) in personal ways.

If this sounds dreamy — too optimistic — I can only say that my steady efforts continue to grow my readership. Signings are part of the package — they’re a long-term investment like preparing and planting cherry pits with the hope of growing good, solid trees.

I see the seedlings gain strength everyday.

Cheers,

Panglossian Pari

* FYI: "notre" means "our"– just in case you noticed the change in the phrase the second time I used it.

—————– Speaking of optimism: here’s an uplifting website to check every once in a while for good news in the world ———————–

Steps to Peace

By Any Other Name

Jeffrey Cohen

“You know, part of the problem might be your name.”

The advice came from someone–I won’t name who–in the publishing industry, a person whose opinion I greatly respect, and whose advice I seek out. It was a typical brainstorming session, one where a writer tries to determine how to take the ever-elusive “next step” toward increased success (or in my case, success). And now, my confidante was making a suggestion that might help.

I was a little shaken, I have to admit. “Are you suggesting I use a pseudonym?” I asked.

She said she was. And I took a moment to let that sink in. Apparently, sales of my mystery novels might be stronger if I was only, you know, someone else.

“It’s not your name,” my friend said. “It’s just that women buy the majority of books, and (the manuscript we were discussing) is aimed at women, it has a female protagonist, and sometimes women feel more comfortable if the book they’re reading wasn’t written by a man.”

So it wasn’t so much my name that should be changed as my gender. It was hard to know whether I should be relieved or more worried. I said I’d think about it.

I’ve long blathered on, whether prompted or not, about being mystified at the use of pseudonyms. My feeling always was that if an author took the time and trouble to sit down and write an entire book, s/he should be proud enough to affix his/her name to it. And an author writing “as” another personality was something I’ve never really understood at all. If you’re going to say on the cover that you’re one writer pretending to be someone else, what exactly was the point to begin with?

This reached its pinnacle for me a few years ago when Ed McBain and Evan Hunter “collaborated” on a mystery together. Seeing as how both McBain and Hunter were the same person (and his name was neither McBain nor Hunter), I thought that was quite the feat.

Don’t get me wrong–I’ve written under another name before. I’ve ghostwritten books for people who were clearly not me, and their names were printed on the front cover of the books, which was fine with me. My name was written on the checks, and I was happy to get them.

So it wasn’t just a question of ego that was the issue here. If I could become a more popular writer by putting another name on the cover, that was certainly something worth considering. But I had questions about the philosophy behind the proposed move.

For one thing, if a book has characters a woman can relate to, and she enjoys reading it, why should she care what the gender of the person writing it might be? Are women really so dedicated to reading only books written by other women that they would make that a criterion for their choice of reading material? It didn’t make sense to me. I thought most women were smarter than that.

Furthermore (and the fact that I used the word “furthermore” might give you an indication how strange this whole exerience was for me), what was this assumption based upon? After all, The Da Vinci Code had a man’s name on the cover (two men, if you count Da Vinci), and that didn’t seem to be hurting sales too much. If I could do that well on the charts, I’d be satisfied, I’m pretty sure.

Then, of course, came the inevitable question of what my “new” name would be. My wife suggested I use her name, but then withdrew the suggestion when she realized people would think she’d written my books. She’s read my books, and likes them, but needs to maintain her dignity. I understood completely.

So I started trying to create a name that might clue a reader of my previous works in on the fact that there was a familiar presence behind the new work. Heck, I haven’t spent the last five years building up a fan base that runs into the tens, only to discard it with a new, more estrogen-rich, persona. Maybe I could say the new book was written by Abigail Stein, the lead female character in my Aaron Tucker series. But no. Abby would probably need to maintain her dignity, too.

There’s the old “stripper name” trick, where you take the name of your first pet and the name of the street on which you grew up, but “Peabody Campfield” sounded like someone sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, pulling on his moustache and drinking a glass of port. That guy would really need his dignity, and besides, would be a man, thereby making the whole enterprise pointless.

Sorry to report, I never came up with a decent distaff name for myself, but I might return to the pursuit if I’m ever really convinced it’s necessary. Which is possible. There are days I’d pretend to be a remarkably articulate cocker spaniel if I thought it would help me make a living in this business.

I’m not being obtuse or naive–I understand that there are certain marketing realities in life, and I’m sure they’ve all been researched beyond question. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if publishers found my work more attractive with an androgynous or clearly feminine name as the author. And I might at some point try such a gambit if I were made to believe it would really help. I can be as pragmatic as the next fellow. Or girl, as the case may be.

But there’s something a little insulting to the suggestion. More to the reading public than to me. I really want to believe that women–and men–will read a book if it offers a compelling story line, likable (or at least interesting) characters and a point of view the reader might enjoy. I’ve never put my hand up to take a book off the shelf at a bookstore or library and then pulled back upon realizing the author wasn’t the same gender as I am. Why should it be assumed a good many people of either sex would?

Sometime in the future, it’s entirely possible that a book will appear in stores and libraries whose byline suggests it’s written by–I don’t know–Jeffronica Cohenstein, and maybe you’ll buy it, and maybe you won’t. I like to think the author’s name matters, but for different reasons. Like that you’ve enjoyed that author’s work before.

Of course, after Ms. Cohenstein’s book became an international best seller, launching a series that established “her” as a sly writer of enjoyable novels, I might be proven wrong. I’ve been wrong on more than one occasion in my life. Cohenstein could become a household name, a veritable synonym with “riotously funny mystery book.” Then, perhaps, one day I could collaborate with “her” on a new novel.

It’s been done before.

ON THE BUBBLE WITH DAVID MONTGOMERY

I like to tease David Montgomery. I tell him the only reason he’s a reviewer is to get all those free books. But it ain’t true. David really, really loves mystery/crime/suspense/thrillers. And because he does, he is one of the best out there. Just look at his credits: Chicago Sun-Times, National Review, USA Today, Kansas City Star, January Magazine, Philadelphia City & Inquirer and then there’s the Boston Globe and the South Florida Sun-Sentinel. His CRIME FICTION DOSSIER is one of the best on the web, and he has another great site – OVERNIGHT SUCCESS? It is here that some of the hugest (I know that’s not a word, but I like it) writers share their travails to being published. And then David has MYSTERY INK – the home of the prestigious GUMSHOE AWARD- now in it’s fifth year.

So come meet David-

EE: Word is, David, Marilyn Stasio, the infamous New York Times book reviewer confers with you first before writing her column. I think it’s time we knew the truth.

DM: I wish she would! Stasio generally has excellent taste in books, and her writing is good, but I often find her reviews unsatisfying. There’s not enough analysis or opinion in them. It can be tough to do when writing in the column format, but I’d like to see more meat in there.

Yeah, me too. I’d also like to see my book there. Do you know where I can find a voodoo doll?

EE: And what about the rumors that your annual Gumshoe Award, so prestigious it fairly kills writers who are never short-listed, is just a ruse to get nominees and winners to join the publishing house you’ve got going on the back burner?

DM: It’s funny that you say that, as I’d love to run a publishing house. Soon as I win the lottery, I’m starting one. As for the Gumshoe Awards…the staff at Mystery Ink tries hard each year to single out the best books, hopefully with an eye towards some more unconventional choices. It’s a helluva task, but the really hard part is singling out the winners. I’d rather just make the shortlist and leave it at that.

Just the shortlist? Hmmm. That idea has merit. That would mean I was a winner! Yeah, I like that, David.

EE: Okay, here’s a hot one: I’ve been told (and I’ll just faint if it’s true) that you’ve been approached by Rupert Murdoch to pen a mystery related gossip column for The Enquirer.

DM: I’ve got tons of great gossip, so I’ve been looking for an outlet where I can use it. (My blind items are killers!) As it turns out, however, nobody knows who the mystery writers are, so the idea was greeted with a huge "WTHF?"

Huh? Nobody knows US?? Who the hell do they think keeps them up at night? We’ve got to remedy that, David! We’ll put our heads together at ThrillerFest, okay? Maybe we’ll let Guyot sit in on this. He’s kinda twisted too. Too bad JLW ain’t gonna be there.

EE: Okay, lets get to the nitty gritty. What sex symbol do you think you resemble? Does Maili agree?

DM: Unfortunately, the only celebrity I resemble is Anthony Edwards (formerly Dr. Mark Green on ER). I was at the In-N-Out Burger in Ventura one time when a woman I didn’t know came up to me and told me how much I looked like Edwards. I protested that, unlike Edwards, I actually had hair, but she didn’t seem swayed.

Awww (gush, gush) you’re much better looking than Edwards. And that goatee is soooo cool!

EE: Who are the seven people you’d invite to dinner? And why?

DM: I’d invite anyone who’d pay! Seriously, though, one person I’d love to have dinner with, but never got the chance, was Ross Thomas. Ross was my favorite writer and unfortunately I never got the chance to meet him. We corresponded for a little while before his death, but that was it. From everything I’ve heard, he was a wonderful man, and he’s someone I really would have liked to know. His books continue to dazzle to this day.

Yes, I can see you’d feel that way. He was a master.

EE: You’ve been a panelist, and a moderator at several cons, and will be sharing the table with Lawrence Block & David Morrell this weekend at BEA, so with all that experience, give us the ideal panel you’d like to moderate. And don’t mention Dan Brown, okay?

DM: To be honest, my ideal panel is one that I don’t have to moderate! That’s the downside to getting a rep as a good moderator: people always ask you to moderate the panel, rather than participate on it, the latter of which is much easier and more fun. (The upside to it is that you can always get a gig.) In general, though, I like panels where people discuss books, writing and publishing in a serious way and aren’t afraid to share their true thoughts. It also helps if Barry Eisler is on it, ’cause he’s cute and people like to look at him.

Well, yeah-Barry IS easy on the eyes. But I like the way you sneaked around my question, David! Very diplomatic.

EE: Which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at then next con? We won’t tell Maili. Cross our evil little heart.

DM: I mentioned Barry already. He let me touch his hair once…I’m still aflutter over it. There are some very attractive female crime writers out there, no doubt. If I were making a list, my darling Elaine, your name would be at the very top. So let’s book a booth!

Ohhhh? Now MY heart’s afluttering! Honey, I’m so there. Shall we take the booth in the back?

EE: Whew, I’m still afluttering. I’ll be calm in a minute. Okay, I’m fine now. So, David, which Rock & Roll star would you trade places with? No substituting Hip-Hop, please.

DM: Not a Rock & Roll star – I always wanted to be Frank Sinatra. Frank put ’em all to shame.

I always knew you were a man after my heart. Remember his ‘All Or Nothing At All’?

EE: Rumor running rampant in Mystereyville is that you feed Paul Guyot all of his best lines. Gasph. Could this REALLY be true?

DM: Yes, it’s true. Guyot has me on a monthly retainer to write jokes for him. (I’m kind of like the straight Bruce Vilanch.) Paul’s fashion sense is all his own, though. I tried telling him that oversized hockey jerseys are So 1988, but he won’t listen.

It’s true?? Oh, no! All this time I thought…oh, well…live and learn, huh?

EE: My spies tell me that you’re working on a new project that will blow the roof off The Da Vinci Code. A hint or two wouldn’t be too much trouble now would it? I mean, we could get some advance buzz going on here.

DM: The Da Vinci what? Yeah, I’m working on a novel. A thriller, of course. It’s about…well, it’s really to sensitive to talk about now. Next question?

What? Is Hayden listening? He hasn’t been confirmed yet, has he?

EE: Buzz around town is that you’re Barry Eisler’s role model for John Rain and that Lee Child is claiming first rights for Jack Reacher. Would you please put this rumor to rest once and for all?

DM: Due to the ongoing nature of various legal actions, I can’t comment on that at this time.

Claiming the Fifth again, huh? I gotta say – you reviewers are tough nuts to crack.

EE: Okay, this time I want a real answer. I’ll get you on this one!~ I have it on very good authority that you’re really not David Montgomery, but are, in truth, a runaway heir to the ancient Monrovian royal house because you just want to be a regular guy. Tell me this is false, David! I mean, if I have to curtsey every damn time I see you…well, it would just be too hard on my lumbago.

DM: It’s actually the Stroganoff Family – not as well known as the Romanoffs, perhaps, but just as important. Every time someone east beef in mushrooms and sour cream sauce, I get a nickel. That’s the only way I can afford to be a book critic, which pays about as well as being a midlist mystery author these days.

Then I won’t have to cursey? Thank God for that. But, uh, David? Stick with the reviewing, okay? You’re probably making MORE dough than us.

EE: Any truth to the talk that you’re planning to buy the Chicago Sun-Times so you can have the front page all to yourself whenever you want it?

DM: Get into the newspaper business? What are you, insane? I think I’ll stick to playing the lottery. The odds are better.

Insane? Moi? Well, hell – I’ve been called worse.

EE: Time for the BIG truth here, David! Why don’t your legion of readers and friends know that you’re an accomplished symphony tuba player?

DM: Unfortunately, I had to give up the tuba after I herniated myself helping Mike Connelly carry around his ego. Can you believe that guy? Have you ever heard anyone talk more about themselves? You can’t shut him up! Next time, I’m taking up the piccolo.

Ahem, yes, darling David – I do know a few that talk more about themselves than Mike. We’ll trade notes at ThrillerFest. But we can’t let Guyot sit with us then. He’s such a damn blabbermouth. Did you hear what he said about….

Oopps! Sorry! I forgot you guys were still here. Come back next Saturday and listen to what Gayle Lynds has to say!

I’m Speechless

JT Ellison

I debated long and hard about the title of this week’s blog.
“Dancing in the Streets” seemed appropriate, but a little too retro. “What A Feeling”
is apropos, but a little too, well, Flashdance.
So let’s settle on what I’m really, truly feeling. Speechless.

I’ve been walking around with a stupid grin on my face since
last week, when I received what will be hereafter forever be referred to as
“The Call.” The Call came from my agent, a spectacular guy housed high in a
building in New York, where he gets to make people’s dreams come true. What a
job, huh? As with many agents, he’s a busy guy, so if his number shows up on
the caller ID, generally something’s up. And man, was something up last
Tuesday.

Let me backtrack for a moment. When Murderati launched back
in April, I told you I’d wait to tell you my story. Bits and pieces have come
out, but the essential JT Ellison is still under wraps. Let me go over a couple
of things that ultimately led to The Call, before we go into the details of
said Call, okay?

I’ve been a writer my whole life. I started young, with
picture book stories, little shorts with handmade felt hard covers that I
illustrated and carried around proudly. I dabbled in poetry, read anything my
parents would let me (which was pretty much everything) and dreamed of being
famous one day. Then came my first introduction to the harsh world of
publishing.

I won a contest when I was in the third grade – a poetry
assignment for the local newspaper. I was studying slavery at the time, and
wrote this poem from a slave’s point of view. The judges liked it and I won the
contest. My grandmother on my Dad’s side, GranMary, was a journalistic type in
Gainesville, Florida. She wrote a column in the newspaper, did some short
romances, that kind of stuff. My parents sent her the poem. She sent it to TRUE
CONFESSIONS magazine. I promptly received a
very nice REJECTION LETTER. I was eight. I understood why they didn’t want my
poem about slavery – really, what’s romantic about that?

Fast forward to college, senior year, and a professor who
told me I’d never get published. (I’m looking for her email address, by the
way, just so I can say nannie-nannie boo-boo to her, the big spoilsport!) That
probably offhand comment by a frustrated artist killed my creative spirit. I
stopped writing, took a job in politics, went to graduate school to learn how
to run political campaigns. Met Hubby, so I guess I need to thank her at the
same time. It’s one of those things, the road not taken, which baffles me. I
can’t imagine doing it any other way, but what if she had been encouraging,
thought I should go ahead with my MFA?

I actually was going that route until my French credits messed
the application process up. Apparently, I didn’t have the appropriate language
labs fulfilled. I could go back to school for a semester, take French III with
language lab, and then I could go for my MFA. Like being able pour s’obtenir
à la W.C. dans le Français parfait had any bearing on my ability to
write in ENGLISH. So George Washington’s Graduate School of Political
Management was the way to go, on every level. I can
only imagine what kind of damage that MFA program would have inflicted on my
style.

Fast forward to 2003. I’m living in Tennessee, am in between
jobs, and have some time on my hands. I’m reading John Sandford’s Prey series
front to back. I have a wild hair. I’m going to write a book.

So I did. It was terrible. A true study in cliché, a perfect
example of what not to do. Let me assure you, a brilliant first novel really is
rare. If you’ve written your first, don’t submit it. Write another. See how
much your style improves from one to the next. Then you can start submitting. I
tell you this because I made the mistake of submitting the first novel. Egad,
it was so bad. But it had a few passages that were very good. After a slew of
rejections from publishers and agents, I started over with the best parts of
Book 1. That became CROSSED, which got the attention of my agent.

I’m glossing over a lot of angst and sleepless nights
because this is the good part, the strawberry days. When the book wasn’t
getting the right attention, my agent had the foresight to suggest I write
another. ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS caught the attention of my new editor Linda McFall (I love saying that) at Mira Books. I can’t imagine a better fit for me. Now we’re up to
date. Rewind to last Tuesday, when I received The Call.

What made this event so incredibly amazing, aside from the
fact that I got to hear the magic words – three-book deal – my parents
witnessed THE CALL. They are snowbirds, in a sense. The spend summers in my
hometown in Colorado, when I spent my formative years. Twice a year they pack
up their SUV and drive between homes. This year, they decided to come a day
early, spend a few extra hours with Hubby and me. They’d been here for about
half an hour, just gotten settled into chairs with drinks, when the phone rang.
I glanced at the caller ID and said something, well, rude. Along the lines of
"Oh *^&%". Remember I told you agents are busy folks? They don’t call just to
see how your day is going. I knew this was something.

I don’t remember too much of the conversation,
unfortunately. My agent teased me a little in the beginning, and since I’m the
eternal optimist, I’m thinking, “Damn it, I’ve blown it. It’s over.” My heart
was thudding so loudly that I didn’t even hear what he was saying until the
words “three book” popped into my consciousness.

I made him go back and repeat everything he’d said. I
managed to get through the conversation, half acknowledged when he said
congratulations, you’re a published author now, go call your husband. I got
Hubby on the phone and told the three most important people in my life the most
important news I’ve ever received. And promptly cried my eyes out. I’d finally
done it. I have a book deal.

So this column now takes a new turn. I’ll do my best to help
the Newbies understand the process of getting published. I’ll talk about my
hopes and fears for the series of books I’m working on. Walk through the editorial
and creative process as I go along. I’ll chronicle this journey, and share my
mistakes and celebrations. The first book will be out in late 2007, so we’ve
got plenty of time to sort through the details.

Apparently, I’m not quite as speechless as I thought. Thank
you to everyone who has taken the time to send an email, or call, or post on
their blogs to help me share in this news. I’ll tell you, getting emails from
writers you read and love, congratulating YOU on getting published, is a trip.
I appreciate each and every one of you, and hope never to disappoint you. Have
a great weekend, everyone! I hope all of your publishing dreams come true.

Wine of the Week – Dom Perignon, of course.

Wetting The Baby’s Head

I witnessed the birth of my third child on Monday. Working Stiffs weighed in at 10oz and 8 inches long from head to toe. Not a bad size and weight all things considered. Sadly, I wasn’t there for the arrival when the FedEx stork dropped off the package. I was at the World Horror Convention and I had to hear the news from Julie. She ripped off the packaging to tell me all was in good shape and that it looked wonderful. When I got home, the first thing I did was reopen the package so that I could smell the baby-fresh scent of a brand new book. For an author, I don’t think there’s a smell like it. It’s a combination of fresh paper and glue that hasn’t had the chance to breathe in the air.

Although I joke, bringing a book into the world isn’t much different from bringing a child into the world, although I won’t have to send it to college or pay for its wedding. There’s the conception—that first spark of passion when the idea for the book is born. The excitement builds as the story grows from an idea into a story and the page count swells. It’s not long before it actually possesses a shape resembling the embryo manuscript. The editing process refines its shape and it starts to resemble the story I wanted to make. Then before I know it, it’s reached the end of its first trimester.

Then my baby enters a tricky stage as I search for a publisher and/or agent to assist with the birth. This can be a long and treacherous route filled with disappointment and setbacks, but I always have faith regardless of the passage of time. I know it has to happen. It’s happened before. And it does. Someone shares my love for my book and offers a contract that carries my baby through to its final trimester.

This is the most nervous of times. Everything looks sound enough, but I’ve experienced things going wrong. Publishers can change their mind. Circumstances can change. And I have to keep a careful eye on developments. But with Working Stiffs, there were no such troubles. Compared to my first two children, this book went to term with few problems. It arrived on the day they told me—a first.

Now that Working Stiffs is born—and did I mention it’s a fine looking kid—I still have a lot of work to do. Like any proud father, I have to show this baby off. Anyone and everyone who stops for more than two seconds is going to hear about how wonderful my baby is. I know it may bore some, but I can’t help it. I really love this one. This isn’t to say that I like this one any better than the others. Well, that’s what I tell my first two books.

And what kind of father would I be if I didn’t break out the baby pictures? So here’s a picture of baby Working Stiffs.

So it’s cigars all round and I hope you’ll enjoy Working Stiffs as much as I do.

Simon Wood

Take a Break

NAOMI HIRAHARA

When I first took over the editorship of a small newspaper for a period of six years, a freelance graphic designer noticed that I never ate lunch sitting down. Or even ate lunch at all. I was on a coffee-Coke diet (two to three cups in the morning and then a Coke at about 3 o’clock) and proceeded to drop about 10 pounds, which proves that you can lose weight with any weird combination if you eat only one square meal, dinner, a day. (My face also became very pasty-colored, not very attractive at all, so this weight loss program–which was not intentional–is definitely discouraged. And I’m happy to also report that I’ve gained the weight back and then some!)

The point is, I was and am still a bit intense. Driven. Maybe even neurotic. When I’m in the rhythm of work, everything else fades away. Papers remain unfiled. Clothing unfolded. Bills unpaid. As you can imagine, this is not good, especially when you live with other people and are in charge of the finances.

Somehow the promotional work of a writer gets to me more than the writing does. There are e-mails to answer, ARCs and books to send, interviews to respond to, bookstores to visit. (This for no pay!) And since I was a journalist and a p.r. specialist, I know that timing is everything. So after a book comes out, the running begins and doesn’t quite end until two months later.

This past Friday was my birthday. So how did I decide to celebrate? By working at events from 7:30 a.m. to about 9 p.m. The night before, a library event from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. (I’m factoring travel time here, too.) And on Saturday, a panel in Westwood and then an event in Arcadia, a total of 80 miles and nine hours. All of this activity took its toll. By Saturday night, I was like a piece of raw flank steak, beaten to a pulp. I couldn’t enjoy my supposed birthday dinner and the play that followed.

So on Sunday, after celebrating Mother’s Day with the family, my husband and I decided to escape. We drove down 60 miles to San Juan Capistrano, stayed the night, and then went to San Clemente to sit on the beach. I didn’t visit one bookstore or write one word. My husband and I sat across from each other and shared three meals together. We talked about what was going on in our lives in between the signings and event mailings.

Writer Alice Walker talks about the importance of "fallow" time, allowing your creative mind to rest as ideas take root down below. While we writers are all on that hamster wheel, attempting to keep our careers alive with new books and new promotional strategies, the "work" can extinguish the light that drew us to writing in the first place.

I’m a slow and stubborn learner, but I am learning. I’m off tomorrow to San Francisco and Las Vegas for four book related events. While I’ve added drive-by signings on the itinerary, somewhere on the calendar needs to be some "do-nothing" time. As much as writing deadlines need to be met and books promoted, there’s also a time to sit down, rest, and just eat.

SPAM AND FOOTBALL: Hirahara Central received this from Lois Reibach from Blue Bell, Pennsylvania: "My mother made sandwiches called Touchdowners that had ground Spam, grated cheese, and pickle relish mixed together, then put on a hamburger bun, wrapped in foil and the packet was heated. She got the recipe out of some magazine or newspaper for things to eat while watching football on TV. This was over 40 years ago and I still remember them fondly." Lois has since lost the recipe, so if you have it, e-mail it or any other of your Spam memories to nhirahara@juno.com. For more information about the inaugural Mas Arai Spam Contest, see http://www.naomihirahara.com/contest.html.

A SPECIAL THANKS TO ISHIHARA-SAN AND COMPANY: The SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN book event at the Japanese American National Museum on May 6 was made all the more special by a performance by Hiroshi Ishihara and members of his musical troupe. I’m posing with a snakeskin shamisen, but it’s all for show! (The only stringed instruments I learned to play badly, very badly, are the guitar and the cello.)

News Flash! MAS ARAI GOES BIG PRINT: The Mas Arai mystery series got its first license this week–a large-print deal with Thorndike Press. The first title, SUMMER OF THE BIG BACHI, may come out as early as this fall. FYI, dear librarians!

AND FINALLY, A LOSS OF A CIVIL RIGHTS LEADER: Sweet Sue, rest in peace and may your work live on.

QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

"Hi, I’m Deni and I’m addicted to American Idol."

"Hi, Deni."

"I think Randy Jackson needs a dictionary, Paula Abdul needs an intervention, and I love to hate Simon Cowell. In fact, as we speak, I’m creating a story character with Simon in mind."

What? You authors who read Murderati don’t have a famous [or infamous] person in mind when you write your books? My bulletin board is filled with magazine cut-outs of Famous/Infamous People, whom I use as book characters.

Anyway, Beatrice — who, as we speak. is attaching garters to her stockings a’la Betty Boop and begging me to remind you that her paranormal erotica JAMES DEAN AND THE MOONLIGHT MADNESS SALE is at Loose Id — thinks there should be a reality show called AUTHOR IDOL. Authors would stand in the spotlight, flames flickering on a screen behind them, and read an excerpt from one of their books. They’d be judged on stage presence, what they are wearing, how they styled their hair. . .and maybe even a wee bit on what they read. The numbers to call — to vote — would be superimposed underneath. After the reading judges would comment. . .

To those of you who don’t watch American Idol, I’ll bring you up to date. We’re down to what is known as the 3F (three finalists). The Chosen One (TCO) — the chrome-domed singer whom the judges have been "pimping" since the first week — was voted off by the viewers last week in what was referred to as a "shocker!" [Note the exclamation point; it’s been used in everything I’ve read about last week’s show.]

It wasn’t a shocker! to me. Maybe that’s because, as an author, I deal with something called motivation.

So, why did TCO get the boot? [you ask]. What was the shocking! motivation? Well, he gave a mediocre, also known as "meh" performance, but so did the gray-haired finalist who looks like a drunken lounge singer and/or constipated ballad singer. The "nice guy" finalist, who is 90% deaf in one ear, sounded a little bit like a goat, and the "pretty girl" singer forgot 4 seconds worth of lyrics in her first rendition of an Elvis song. [Whereupon, she was accused of "shaking her ass" to get votes because during the FOUR SECONDS of forgetfulness she turned around toward the band while she regained her composure].

When TCO "rocker" Chris was voted off, the judges were shocked!, I tell you, shocked!, but only a little less shocked! than Chris himself. Could his votes have mistakenly gone to another contestant? he wondered.

Immediately after the Wednesday night results show, women on the Internet Forums began to vilify the pretty girl, as if the Supreme Court had chosen her to advance to the next round, despite votes to the contrary.

[Yes, okay, I’m addicted to "American Idol forums" too, especially the forums on a site called televisionwithoutpity.com. I like to read the comments. It’s research. I have two teens in my mysteries and I need to know the latest slang – heh!]

Since the pretty girl, Katharine-with-an-a, is obviously not TCO [rumor has it the producers want a guy to win], the Idol judges have enjoyed a sadistic, almost orgasmic gratification in trashing her performances. They especially like to embarrass her. Paraphrasing the judges: Randy: "That just didn’t work for me, dawg. It was kinda pitchy." Paula: "Mumble, mumble. . .the moth finds the melon finds the corn flake. . .mumble." Simon:"With that performance, you’ll be going home."

As soon as Simon said Katharine would be going home, I knew she was safe. As soon as Paula stared lovingly at Chris and said, "See you in the finals," I knew he was toast.

Which brings us once again to motivation. What the Idol judges, especially Simon, don’t seem to understand is that Americans like to root for the underdog — on TV, in movies and in books. Millions of people dialed in for the pretty girl, not just because she’s pretty, but because they felt she was too harshly judged. Millions more voted for the nice guy, who has been the acknowledged underdog from the very beginning. I don’t know why millions of viewers voted for the lounge lizard — I’m still trying to figure that one out — but the fact that he’s the recent pick of a website called votefortheworst.com might have something to do with it. Or maybe it’s because viewers confuse frenetic giberish [he forgot the words in his first Elvis song, too] and spastic dancing with enthusiasm/exuberance.

I was going to talk about gender — do girls vote for the boy singers and vice versa? — and tie it into the age-old debate: Do men buy books written by woman and, for that matter, do women buy books written by women? Or can men really write from a woman’s POV [and vice versa]. But I’ll save that for next week’s Quibble.

Over and Out,
Deni

Why Blog?

by Pari Noskin Taichert

Murderati is a little more than a month old now. It’s a perfect time to reflect on, well, just about anything.

Me? I’ve been thinking about blogs and why authors take time away from writing their novels to pen nonfiction on a regular basis.

Part of my recent interest stems from discussions on various listservs where reader-respondees avow that they’ve never read blogs, won’t consider looking at them, and never will. I’ve also encountered authors who are adamant in their disapproval of this new form of communication — as if it’s a cheap or stupid way to spend time.

There’s also the sheer number of web logs; it’s enough to make your jaw drop on the floor and slink out of the room. In his missive summing up blog activity for the 1st quarter of 2006, David Sifry, founder of Technorati, brings up several points. Here’s the one that caused my oral catastrophe: "On average, a new weblog is created every second of every day."

Sheesh. That’s just too many to think about.

In an entirely nonscientific way, I decided to ask around to see what authors might have to say on the subject. I posted on listservs and got responses from folks I know and some I don’t. My questions were:

1. What were your goals for starting/participating in a blog?

2. Has the blog met those goals?

I’ll admit — given my 20+ years working in pr/marketing — I thought I knew the answer to question #1. Obviously, people blog to sell their novels. This goal, I was certain, was misdirected. M.J.Rose has written extensively on the pitfalls of creating blogs solely for this purpose on her own blog. Still, I knew my cohorts in mystery marketing had it all wrong.

Picture me with raw egg inching its way down my face and plopping onto a nice new silk blouse . . .

" . . . Our books are listed in a side panel, so there is a little PR there for them, but he [Eric Mayer] feels a blog people visit to read for interest is better than one set up purely for advertising." Mary Reed

"Well, if someone like my agent, or my editor, or perhaps my mother asks why I spend time blogging, I would, of course, assume an air of virtuous industry and explain that it is a form of promotion . . . a way to connect with my readers between books . . . " Donna Andrews adds with a grin in her tongue-in-cheek comments.

"I started a blog because I imagined my readers wanted to get to know me as a person, at least a little bit . . ." Charlaine Harris

Samantha Ling notes the same goals. Sandra Ruttan, whose book won’t come out until this fall, is making all kinds of great contacts even as I type. She started a blog simply to begin to log her experiences trying to get published.

So, yeah, I think that connecting with readers — telling them what you’re up to, what you’re thinking — is, indeed, a form of promotion. It’s a good method to build community and loyalty. However, it’s pretty subtle; you’re not going to fill any off-shore bank accounts this way.

Authors gave additional reasons for blogging. Ami Reeves comments that blogging gives her ". . . an outlet to do some ‘fun writing’ (i.e. Who cares if it’s not perfect? I don’t have to sell it, there’s no pressure)." That’s also why author and publisher Dindy Robinson does it.

Like them, I like having to write nonfiction on a regular basis. It hones my skills and keeps me fresh. (Harley Jane Kozak also commented on this, but more about her in a sec.)

Blogging also creates community amongst authors (who, lest we forget, had better be readers, too). I know this is true of my experiences with Murderati. Both Harley Jane and Judy Clemens find this satisfying. Judy writes, " . . . It’s also a great way to link to other authors’ blogs and help other authors in that way. Another fun thing has been to have guest bloggers . . . hopefully it’s a nice little plug for the guest."

Marcia Talley brought up a practical reason for blogging. She posts about trips, her reactions to life and about family. "For this kind of stuff, the blog is perfect, because it allows me — through a blog link on my webpage — to keep my info. fresh and current without having to go through my web maven."

But, do you know the number one reason the authors blog? It’s why I blog too — even though some of my topics (this one, for example) take a hell of a lot of work.

FUN. Yep. That’s it. That’s what authors kept telling me. Blogging is fun.

"I started my blog four years ago this coming August," writes Bill Crider. "I did it for my own amusement . . . Doing the blog is fun for me, and that’s the only reason I do it."

Frankly, I hope that blogging increases the number of people who’ve heard of me — of all of us at Murderati — and everyone else who takes the time to post their thoughts/experiences/perspectives on a regular basis.

But even if it isn’t doing much of that, it’s still a blast.

———— Enough of the serious stuff.————-

I got blogtagged by Donna Andrews last week and since I can only respond on Mondays . . . here it is. Unfairly, I’m tagging my listmates — other than J.T. because she already did this on Friday.

4 movies you would watch over and over

The Little Princess (The most recent version: I love the scene with the Indian servant and the little girl greeting the wonder of the snow.); The Princess Bride (Wit, period.); Fanny and Alexander (What a visually rich, emotionally layered movie.); Spirited Away (I can’t get enough of this marvelous animation.).

4 places you’ve lived:

Tours, France; Hong Kong; Ann Arbor, MI; Takoma Park, MD.

4 TV shows you love to watch:

Medium, Law & Order SVU, reruns of Roseanne, Without a Trace.

4 places you have been on vacation:

Carlsbad, NM; Morgantown, WV; Macau; Antibes, France.

4 of your favorite foods:

Japanese squid salad, green chile, dark chocolate, bulgoki with kim chee (damn, I’m getting hungry).

4 websites you visit daily:

Nope. I don’t have four. I use Google daily and visit Murderati as often as I can . . . everything else is much less consistent.

4 places you would rather be right now:

Actually, I adore New Mexico . . . but I won’t cop out on this. Antibes, France (eating fresh strawberries, overlooking the Med. Sea and hanging out at the Picasso Museum); Virgin Gorda (snorkeling); Washington, DC (at the Freer); Puerto Rico (swimming at night in Phosphorescent Bay)

4 people who you think will respond (sorry, guys)

Deni Dietz, Naomi Hirahara, Elaine Flinn, Jeff Cohen (he answered some in J.T.’s comments–but not all), and Simon Wood . . . Okay, that’s five . . . but they didn’t know I was gonna do this.

cheers,

Pari