Tag: authors

Hello darkness, my old friend

I’m so freaking tired but I can’t sleep. My mind won’t get quiet.

I’m sorry for my friends who are affected by the onset of winter. I wonder if I would feel the same dread if I lived in a colder climate.

Lisa and Mark–thank you, thank you, thank you. You don’t know how much your comments on CC have meant to me. I’ll try to be more specific when I get some of these deadlines off of me and can actually write e-mails again. And Lisa–chocolate? Thanks!

I feel really, really good about a project Tim and I have been working on. We are almost at the point of releasing details. It’s nothing you can buy soon, but I don’t mind promoting it for the next year because it’s worth it. And I’ve learned so much.

Greg comes through again Monday on his way back to New Orleans and will spend another night. That’ll be good.

Then, Jim, Tim, and I will be wrapping up TJB5 and getting it to the publisher. I’ve been so grateful for the extra time Kensington gave us because all three of us have been dealing with challenges unrelated to our work. I know Jim rarely reads my LJ, but I’m sending lots of positive thoughts his way, and for his friend. Also good thoughts to my SIL who’s in the hospital. I hope she has a speedy recovery.

Maybe my mind won’t be still because I’m reading too many books at once. I just realized today that I’m reading LOVE, BOURBON STREET (ed. by Greg Herren and Paul Willis); OTHER VOICES, OTHER ROOMS (Truman Capote); FROM BOYS TO MEN (ed. by Ted Gideonse and Rob Williams); AMMIE, COME HOME (Barbara Michaels); and WHAT I DID WRONG (John Weir). Maybe if I read these one at a time, so I could remember how to finish things, I wouldn’t have all these writing projects going simultaneously.

I guess I like variety too much.

We like Thursdays

Rex and I, we like Thursdays. On Thursdays, Rex goes out to Green Acres with Tim for a play date with Sparky and sometimes Sue and Seig. (I don’t include Greta because the Dowager Doberman doesn’t “play”; she observes. From a distance. With a haughty attitude.)

Then Sparky gets to come back to The Compound with Rex and Tim. Sparky loves the car almost as much as Rex. Lynne comes here when she gets off work, we eat dinner, and we watch Survivor. Thursday is also the only day that Margot likes Rex, because Sparky becomes Disturber of Margot’s Peace No. 1.

As for Guinness, she’s excited about the menu. She never gets anything, but Guinness is a dog of Great Hope, always. Tonight, I’m trying something different. Baking a hen with orange slices and crushed cranberries. I’ve never had cranberries that weren’t jellied or at least drowning in sweetness. Too bad Tim wasn’t holding the camera when I bit into one earlier. “Tart?” he asked. “Who knew,” I replied. “Anyone from New England,” he said.

Today, I’m finishing a short story. Hopefully it, too, will be a little tart as well as a little sweet. We’ll see.

Six Words

I took this from Shawn Lea, who got the idea from Caterina.

Legend has it that Ernest Hemingway was once challenged to compose a complete story in six words. His answer was, “For sale: baby shoes, never used.”

Here’s mine, as posted in both bloggers’ comments:

“She refused to sign the prenup.”

Feel free to write your own six-word story and post it in my comments or on your blog or online journal.

It’s a date!


Murder By the Book

If you’re in the Houston area or just like to travel here on a whim, I’ll be signing A Coventry Christmas at Murder By the Book, 2342 Bissonnet Street, Houston. Their phone is 713.524.8597 or 888.4-AGATHA.

The signing is Saturday, December 2, 2006, at 4:30 p.m.

I’ll be signing with two other local authors, L.A. Starks, whose debut thriller 13 Days: The Pythagoras Conspiracy is set in Houston; and Colleen Thompson, who writes romantic suspense novels, including a November release, Heat Lightning.

Although I don’t write the mysteries, suspense, and thrillers that have made Murder By the Book one of the country’s most loved independent booksellers, they are graciously hosting my signing because I’m a local author. If you’ve never been to the store, it’s a must (and it does get an honorable mention in A Coventry Christmas because I played a little with their name for my fictitious chain bookstore “Buy The Book”). Their signings are always fun, and I’ve met some of my favorite authors there. Books are the one item I really love shopping for, and Murder By the Book’s shelves always provide abundant ways for me to spend money. But they even have some pre-read books at bargain prices!

And definitely be there on December 2, or I’ll cry. You don’t want to make me cry, do you?

Reading is HOT!

I’ve photoshopped before and I can do it again.

Yesterday, FARB made me laugh with this tongue-in-cheek blog entry about the gay media.

So we are launching the (fictitious?) “Reading is HOT!” campaign. WE WILL NOT BE IGNORED, GAY MEDIA!

At least I didn’t have to photoshop this celebrity enjoying the second-best activity ever on a rainy day.


Oh, no, typo! (Kidding, FARB.)


Gratuitous nature shot: It really did rain hard at The Compound today.

A Little Twist of Texas

Recently I read Linda Raven Moore’s A LITTLE TWIST OF TEXAS. This is the story of Linda getting on her motorcycle and traveling solo from California to Texas… Well, sort of. As any classic rock singer will tell us, life on the road isn’t easy, and a portion of Linda’s trip was made without the motorcycle, but adaptability is part of the tale.

Because Linda is a gifted storyteller, I was completely drawn into her narrative. I fretted over the idiosyncracies of “Beastie,” the motorcycle who could be really known only from a long trip such as Linda’s. I felt the buffeting of the wind that caused delays along the way. I marveled at the amount of thought and planning that goes into everything: what and how one packs for an extended motorcycle trip. Where and what to eat when you’re crossing miles of uninhabited desert. The pain of unlayering and undressing just to use the bathroom.

Linda’s keen appreciation for the sights and people along the way brings her story to life. Her humor and her willingness to be frank about her vulnerabilities and insecurities make this more than just the story of a road trip. It’s also the interior journey of a woman who can handle bumps and detours as she follows her dream.

I hope there are more trips and books to describe them.

My Own Great Motorcycle Adventure

My first boyfriend was Tim G., and damn if I can remember what kind of motorcycle he had in high school, but I was forbidden to ride it. Oh, the temptation! On frosty ninth-grade mornings, I would stand with my friends on the circle in front of our school, anticipating the engine sound that would herald Tim’s arrival. It was the seventies, so Tim had his Easy Rider helmet, much like this:

And the coolest leather jacket ever, which I wish I had a photo of, but it looked a little like this one, only better:

My heart would race as he drove up. I was totally crazy about that boy. Which of course meant that when he asked me to take a trip on his bike to Cheaha State Park, I ignored my parents’ dire warnings of how much trouble I’d be in if I got on that motorcycle.

It was one of the best days ever. Quite cold as we neared the top of the mountain, but that just meant I hugged Tim even tighter. My instinct was to pull against the motorcycle on curves, but I finally just placed my trust in Tim and did what he told me. It was invigorating to ride through that much physical beauty and feel so close to it all.

There was one thing no one had warned me about, however. When your hair is even longer than this:

you don’t leave it down. Hair doesn’t really cinematically flow in the wind when it’s sticking out from under a helmet. Instead, it gets whipped around so violently that when you get back from your eighty-five-mile round trip, your hair is nothing but snarls and tangles.

Of course, I couldn’t go home looking like that. My parents would have known exactly what I’d been up to. I sat on the living room floor in front of Tim’s mother, one of the truly sweetest ladies I ever knew, and she painstakingly combed out every tangle and tried not to make me cry in the process.

My parents didn’t know until years later about that trip, long after Tim was just a memory. But a good memory, because every awful pull of the comb was worth that glorious day on the back of a motorcycle with my first love.

Mixed Feelings

Greg and I were talking on the phone the other day, and he said, “Aren’t you excited? Your book is about to be released!” I could only reply, “It doesn’t seem real to me. I’m not sure what I feel.”

Because of the kind of friend and writer Greg is–the kind who encourages me and relishes my successes with me–we explored that a bit. I wondered if maybe I’m too accustomed to collaborating. Usually a book release means I’ll get to see my writing partners; we’re planning a signing; we get to celebrate together. This time, it’s just me. It’s my first mass market paperback. It’s my first solo effort. It’s my first attempt at a new genre. I feel kind of lonely and apprehensive, honestly.

Greg agreed that might be part of it, but he had additional insight. The new Timothy James Beck novel has kicked my ass, and Greg knows it. It has demanded that I delve into feelings and sorrows that frankly aren’t the usual fare for TJB. Greg, of course, in working on his third Chanse MacLeod mystery, is having to do the same thing in post-Katrina New Orleans.

When you get inside your characters, and they get inside you, it can be fun and exciting, but also draining and a little scary. Still, it’s not fair to the characters in A COVENTRY CHRISTMAS, who also became part of me (and I a part of them), to fail to celebrate their arrival just because someone else is dominating my thoughts and feelings right now.

Greg suggested that I wait until a few days after the novel’s release and go find it on a shelf in a place where our novels aren’t usually sold–like Wal-Mart. The official release date isn’t until October, but today I found myself in a different neighborhood many miles from my own. I passed a large chain bookstore and decided to stop to see if they had LOVE, BOURBON STREET. While I was there, I thought it was a long shot, but I checked for my book. And…

If you know Kate Hudson’s smile, which is the same as her mother, Goldie Hawn’s, you’ll understand the way my heart smiled. A smile that’s a little proud and excited, but mostly shy and somewhat unsure and anxious. It’s the same way I always feel when I see our books in a store, or we get reader mail, or I read a good review. I’m humbled. I don’t feel like, “Hey, look what I (or we) did!” There’s just a little, “Oh, I’m so lucky! Please be kind, world.”

They didn’t have LOVE, BOURBON STREET, so I’ll pick it up somewhere else. But they did have the most horribly mis-shelved gay books I’ve ever seen. I found gay fiction on eight different shelves that included women’s studies, GLBT studies, lesbian fiction, and sexuality.

You know I used to be in bookstore management, right?

I located every single gay fiction title and shelved them together alphabetically by author. They only took up one shelf, but at least now, if someone wants Christopher Bram, Jay Quinn, or K.M. Soehnlein, they’ll be able to find them. And I hope the world is kind to them, too.

Forgive the poor quality of the photos; I took these with my cell phone.

Tired and Thursday

There are some days when I can’t imagine living anywhere other than where I do. There was a lot of stuff to take care of Thursday (which made me miss an important phone call, but hopefully, the caller will be in touch on Friday).

One of my errands took me to see John, who works at the office that meets all my mother’s insurance needs. John helps put together Halloween Magic, which raises money to be distributed among HIV/AIDS assistance organizations. John’s wit and enthusiasm never fail to lift my spirits, and it was “Timothy James Beck’s” pleasure to donate two complete sets of signed novels for their charity auction. (And Debby, if you’re reading, John says it’s time for you to come back to Houston! He wants to laugh with you again.)

Back at The Compound, it was tempting to just sit still and appreciate the weather. In the fall, Houston provides some days so stunning that it’s easy to forget the summer. But I wasn’t idle. Tim and I had a good discussion about TJB5. We knew we weren’t going to have our usual Thursday night writers’ meeting because Jim is using that blocked off time to read and edit the manuscript.

Plus we had an important evening planned. Lynne came here after work and we ran a few errands, then Rhonda and Lindsey arrived because Tim, a/k/a The Wedding Bitch, had arranged for them to see and taste a sample of their wedding cake. It was fabulous and will be delicious and beautiful. I can’t believe their wedding is coming up so soon!

Tom had brought lots of pizza home, so we ate, watched Survivor, and devoured wedding cake. Then we just sat and talked and said a lot of things like, “Down, Rex.” “Margot, come in here!” and “No, Guinness, you already ate.” Tim said, “Shoes,” a lot. In fact, that was the first thing he said to me today, because of a video that I can’t link to because YouTube is down. He cracks me up.

Lindsey changed the wallpaper on my cell phone because she’s evil, but later, Rhonda changed it back. Lindsey has finished reading A COVENTRY CHRISTMAS, but since Lynne hasn’t read it yet, and Rhonda still has a chapter or so to go, Lindsey was considerate enough to reassure me that she liked the book without giving away any details. Yay, my first feedback other than from my writing partners or family members!

I loaned Rhonda A LITTLE TWIST OF TEXAS. I really enjoyed reading this book each night before I fell asleep. Since Rhonda has a motorcycle, I know she’ll enjoy it, too. But the book is about so much more than just a road trip. I’ll save more praise and specifics for a review.

You can’t beat a day when you feel like you’ve helped the community, gotten to hang out with great friends, and combined wedding cake with Survivor (right now, I’m all about the Puka tribe).

Oh, and check out these photos, because someone is leaving these in Austin and Houston–mostly all over our neighborhood. I love Montrose.