Lager, Eyepatches and Rockabilly

Erik Carlson (whose wife Hannah won the Starling lookalike contest last month) makes a podcast called Bibliodiscoteque where he creates soundtracks for the books of his favorite writers. Past installments have featured Steve Niles, Harlan Ellison and Christa Faust, and I'm flattered to report that Erik's gone and compiled a crazy punk, blues and rockabilly soundtrack for my novels Fun & Games and Hell & Gone. Erik emailed me in late October to ask if I had any suggestions, but I'm glad I didn't follow through with any, because I'm freakin' loving what Erik selected. Download the podcast and check it out for yourself, but right now I'm in my basement office writing to Rocket to Memphis' "I'm Bad," Sparkle Moore's "Skull & Crossbones," The Woolly Bandits' "Woman of Mass Destruction," and The Soft Boys' "I Want to Destroy You," just to name a few. Huge thanks, Erik. You've got a little thank-you present on its way to you...

Retreat to Goodisville 2012

Bacall, Goodis and Bogie, on the set of Dark Passage.

It's official; my partner in crime Lou Boxer has booked the bus, and we're finalizing the itinerary. What used to be a humble graveside tribute to Philly noir legend David Goodis has blossomed into a full-on noir adventure on wheels we're calling, "Retreat to Goodisville."

Here's the deal: at 10 a.m., Saturday January 7th, 2012 (the 45th anniversary of Goodis's death) we'll be meeting just outside The Lost Bar of Atlantis, 2442 Frankford Avenue. A coach bus will take 30 of us up to the Goodis grave in nearby Bensalem, PA. Along the way, we'll watch an excerpt of The Burglar, the 1957 shot-in-Philly crime noir, scripted by Goodis from his own novel. Bring your favorite Goodis passage, because at the man's grave we'll be paying tribute to him by reading excerpts from his work. Then it's back on the bus for a tour of prime Goodis locations, including the house where he lived with his parents (and wrote most of his novels), his birthplace, street corners and landmarks mentioned in Down There, Black Friday, Cassidy's Girl, Of Tender Sin, and much, much more. Plus, on the bus we'll have guest speakers, prizes, and beer. (Yes, we're allowed to imbibe on the bus. Lou checked!) Finally, we'll end up back at the Lost Bar for beer and snacks. The first round is on us; the snacks are courtesy the fine folks at the Lost Bar. Plus: just across the street, the Philadelphia Brewing Co. will be offering brief tours.

Want a seat on the bus? We're asking for $25 per person to cover transportation, bus snacks and incidentals. Seating is limited, so drop me a line at duane DOT swier AT verizon DOT net (with the subject line, "Retreat to Goodisville") and I'll send you an address where you can send a check to reserve your seat.

Don't want to enjoy the warmth and camaraderie of the bus? No worries; Goodis's characters were loners, too. Meet us at the grave site and we'll give you a list of our tour stops so you can join in. But trust me: the bus is going to be worth it. Early January in Philadelphia tends to be pretty damn cold.

Lou and I hope to see you many of you guys there. Any questions? Drop me a line. I'll post a follow-up when the bus is full, which based on our early head count, should be fairly soon.

Okay, I Lied

 

I will be making one more appearance before the end of the year, and it's in Jersey! Noon next Saturday (December 3rd) I'll be hanging out with Jeff Marsick and Scott Barnett at Flemington, New Jersey's Comic Fusion (42 Main Street) as they celebrate the launch of their excellent creator-owned title, Dead Man's Party. I'll also be signing copies of Birds of Prey and whatever else you'd like. Then really, I swear this time, this is it. You won't be seeing me again until 2012.

Anyway, if you're anywhere near the greater Flemington, NJ area, which includes ALL OF PHILADELPHIA AND NEW YORK, in my opinion... stop on by! Remember: nothing says "the holidays" like "personalized comics and crime novels."

Hell Comes to New Hope

This Saturday I'll be signing copies of Hell & Gone at Farley's Bookshop in New Hope, PA, nestled on the shores of the Delaware River. This is my only Philly-area appearance, and probably my last signing for quite a while, as I'm pretty much in chain-myself-to-my-desk mode through the end of the year. I'll be at Farley's from 1 p.m. until 4 p.m., so stop by and say hello. (44 South Main Street, 215-862-2542)

Guest Post: Reed Farrel Coleman Takes Us to Church

I met Reed Farrel Coleman the same night I met Ken Bruen and Jason Starr, during Edgars Week 2004. That night, I nervously dropped (and shattered) a pint glass full of beer right in front of Reed. For some reason, he continued to speak to me. We've served on con panels together, hoisted more beers together, even shed a tear together. Reed and me... we've been through quite a bit. So of course I'm proud to present a guest post from Reed, even though he still hasn't let me forget about that shattered beer. -D.S.


One Month/Two Books
By Reed Farrel Coleman

On November 8th, Gun Church, my second stand-alone novel will be released as an exclusive audio download by Audible.com. Later in the month, my 7th Moe Prager Mystery, Hurt Machine, will be released by Tyrus Books. Talk about two different journeys! Other than the fact that both novels bear two words titles, the writing experience and the novels themselves could not be more divergent. I guess that’s why I love writing so much. Every project has its own distinct qualities and presents its own unique challenges.

Hurt Machine is the 7th novel in a series, but anyone who has followed Moe Prager’s trials and tribulations knows that each novel in the series is its own animal. Moe ages throughout the series and because he does, he is forced to face the changing realities that aging represents. Moe’s in his 60s at the beginning of the novel. Just two weeks before his daughter’s wedding, he receives some pretty serious news about his health. His ex-wife Carmella, who had left him years earlier and moved up to Canada, returns to ask a favor of Moe, a favor she has no right to ask. It seems that Carmella’s estranged sister has been murdered and no one in New York City seems very interested in finding her killer. Why? Well, as they say in marketing departments around the world, you’ll have to read the book. Unique as Hurt Machine is, it only took me about five months to write. The advantage of a series is that the author knows his setting, knows the characters, knows how his characters think and feel. There’s very little guessing for me when I write Moe.

On the other hand, it took me nearly six years to write and publish Gun Church. Strangely enough, the entire plot for Gun Church popped into my head the moment I got the idea for the novel. I can even remember the exact moment I had the idea. I was watching a weapons demonstration by the author Jim Born. During the Q & A, an audience member asked Jim something about the spread of pellets in a shotgun shell. Jim said something to the effect that only a true gun expert would know the answer to that. Bang! (no pun intended) The idea came fully formed into my head. A debauched former 80s literary wunderkind has fallen on hard times and is now teaching creative writing at a rural community college. A student tries to take over his class at gunpoint, but the washed up writer saves the day. He gets a second fifteen minutes of fame, but also gets deeply involved with a cult-like group of locals who worship handguns. I swear, that came to me in a flash. Unfortunately, the book itself took much longer to write.

The challenges were legion because not only does Gun Church feature a book within a book, first and third person narration, and sections in Irish dialect, but also includes a plot that revolves around art imitating life imitating art. It was like writing the anti-Moe book. I was forced to develop a whole new range of skills to tackle the problems I faced and to deal with all the moving parts. What I needed most was a patient editor who believed in the project enough to nurse me along. When the manuscript—in a very different form—finally found its way to Steve Feldberg at Audible.com, I found that editor. He found the book I had lost sight of.

Called a hard-boiled poet by NPR’s Maureen Corrigan, Reed Farrel Coleman has published fourteen novels. He is the three-time recipient of the Shamus Award for Best Detective Novel of the Year and has been twice nominated for the Edgar. He has also won the Macavity, Barry, and Anthony Awards. Reed is an adjunct professor of English at Hofstra University and lives on Long Island with his family Visit Reed at www.reedcoleman.com or on Twitter: @ReedFColeman.

The Markham Affair

"Q.R. Markham." (Photo courtesy The Mysterious Bookshop.)

Last Wednesday night I was sitting in an Irish pub not far from the World Trade Center site, unwinding after a joint appearance at The Mysterious Bookshop. To my left was novelist Lawrence Block, one of my writing heroes. At one point our ultra-nerdy conversation turned to legendary thriller writer Robert Ludlum. Little did I know that within a week the person sitting to my right, Quentin Rowan, would be accused of plagiarizing material from Ludlum. As well as many other writers, including Ian Fleming, James Bamford, John Gardner, Geoffrey O'Brien and Charles McCarry.

News broke yesterday that Rowan, writing under the psuedonym "Q.R. Markham," lifted huge chunks of other books to cobble together his debut, Assassin of Secrets. Edward Champion, over at his blog Reluctant Habits, found more than two dozen instances of obscene plagiarism in the first 35 pages alone.

The whole affair leaves me feeling embarrassed, puzzled, and more than a little angry. Why?

Because I blurbed the fucking thing.

I blurbed it because I was given an early peek at the manuscript, and I liked it very much. I thought it fused modern Bourne-esque spy action with a classic, old-school feel. Only, I had no idea how "old school" the novel truly was.

As I read it, nothing jumped out at me and screamed "plagiarism." Of the works Markham/Rowan apparently stole from, I've only read James Bamford's Body of Secrets: Anatomy of the Ultra-Secret National Security Agency, and I'm not one to memorize passages from a nonfiction book I read nearly 10 years ago. This is not an excuse; this is just letting you know why no alarm bells went off. When reading a novel for blurb purposes, I'm almost never thinking, Gee wonder if this guy ripped off anyone I've ever read...

But still, I'm mortified to be associated with this Frankenstein-ish heist job of a novel. If you purchased this book because of my blurb, I offer my sincere apologizes. Please return it immediately (you're still within most bookstores' two-week return window) and use your store credit to buy a Ludlum, Gardner, Fleming, or McCarry novel. Or Bamford's truly excellent Secrets. Or Geoffrey O'Brien's brilliant Fall of the House of Walworth, which I read (and loved) just last week.

I'm puzzled because I have no idea why Markham/Rowan thought he could get away with it. The guy's not just stealing a cool image here and there; as Champion has detailed, Markham/Rowan lifted huge, huge slabs of text. You could make the postmodern/pastiche argument, I suppose, but wouldn't a literary genius have the sense to let his editor and publisher in on the gag?

Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just stealing.

Which brings me to the anger part. I met Markham/Rowan briefly at the Mulholland Books party at Book Expo America this past spring, but didn't see him again until last Wednesday, when I chatted with him and his mother right before the event. At least, Markham/Rowan claimed that sweet woman was his mother. Who's to say?

Anyway... I'm angry because I can't help but think about what was going through his mind. Was he secretly laughing because he'd managed to dupe everybody in the room, from readers to editors to fellow writers to booksellers? Was he ticking down the moments until he was exposed... thinking that it might even be that very night? What was he thinking as he signed his name to those first copies, knowing that so many of the words beneath the title page belonged to other people?

Then again, Rowan wasn't even signing his own name.

The 45th Annual Goodis Memorial: Noir on Wheels

David Goodis, toiling on the Warner Bros. lot. (Courtesy Lou Boxer)

Forty-five years ago this January, Philadelphia novelist David Goodis died at the young age of 49. And for the past few years, a bunch of us hardcore Goodis-heads have gathered at his graveside near the anniversary of his death to pay tribute, followed by a tour of Goodis locations (his residences, neighborhoods featured in his novels).

This year, however, Lou Boxer and I have been kicking around something a little more ambitious: a bus tour that would include film clips, readings, and more Goodis-centric stops (including filming locations for the 1957 set-in-Philadelphia crime flick The Burglar), followed by cold beer and warm conversation at a river ward taproom. The date: Saturday, January 7, 2012.

So my question for my fellow Goodis-heads (and anyone else interested):

If a bus tour were to happen, would you be willing to pony up $15-20 to help cover transportation? We're not looking for a hard commitment... more a general head count of who might be interested. We both think a bus tour would be so much more enjoyable than our usual caravan of cars; we just want to make sure the numbers work out. This fee would also include snacks and a few drinks, and maybe even some bonus Goodis prizes.

Drop us a line at duane DOT swier AT verizon DOT net or noircon AT gmail DOT com if you'd like to join the party, with the subject line "Goodis Tour." And feel free to spread the word!

Photo Contest Winner #3: Meet Starling!

... as portrayed by Ms. Hannah Carlson. The photo was snapped by Hannah's husband Erik, who wrote: "When we saw the contest [Hannah] jumped at the chance to dress up as Starling (and it was a great Halloween costume, too!)"

Anyway, Ms. Carlson has the look dead perfect, from arm tats to gun strap to ponytail. But it's also her slightly mischievous look that just screams "Starling" to me. The moment I opened the email I thought, Yep. That's her. Ready to do a shot and knee somebody in the face.

The Carlsons will enjoy a full year of signed copies of Birds of Prey from my personal comp stash. Issues #1 and 2 will go out together, followed by one every month until next August. Enjoy!

There were also two very fine honorable mentions who will be receiving signed copies of the first two issues of Birds. First up: Ms. Cherryfox, who reports that the wig she's wearing weighed a ton:

If you recognize that watermark, it's because Ms. Cherryfox created that winning photo of Mr. Raphael Went as Hardie (see earlier entry). Talk about your crossovers! I don't think Hardie would last long in a relationship with Starling, btw. For one thing, she could definitely out-drink/shoot/brawl him, and that would probably bug him after a while.

And finally Lauren (last name withheld for what I presume are Homeland Security-related issues) (I'M KIDDING LAUREN, just respecting your privacy) sent this ultra-spirited photo of Starling behind the wheel, which just makes me smile. She has Starling's love of gleeful mayhem down pat:

 

Congrats to everyone! And thanks so much for entering this crazy little contest. I do hope you all got some Hallowe'en mileage out of these costumes. (For the record, I spent the holiday dressed up as Hardie. And it wasn't ginger beer in my hand, either.)

Photo Contest Winner #2: Meet Mann (Possibly NSFW)

... a.k.a., Ms. Amber Love, comic book journalist and costumed entertainment host and all-around cool person. She's pretty much nailed Mann post-Fun & Games (highlight the next line to reveal spoilerish-material):  topless, with a gun, and missing an eye. I imagine this photo was snapped during another Mann adventure that took place between the events of the first two books, possibly when she was taking out some other celebrity and making it look like an accident. The 9/11 tattoo is a fine touch, too, giving Mann's back story a new wrinkle. And the whole look calls to mind the 1973 Swedish exploitation thriller They Call Me One Eye, later referenced in Tarantino's Kill Bill flicks.

Anyway, huge points for Ms. Love a.) packing a real gun, and b.) going the full Mann. And credit also goes to Ashley N., a.k.a. @smash_is_nerdy on Twitter, who snapped this photo. Prizes will be winging their way to you, Ms. Love.

Next up: Hello, Starling!

Photo Contest WInner #1: Meet Hardie

Take a gander at Mr. Raphael Went's impression of Charlie Hardie, the hero of my novels Fun & Games and the recently-released Hell & Gone. (You can click the photo for a better look.) In his entry, Mr. Went writes:

I felt it was too easy to impale myself on the mic stand in the front room, or to go out and get shot at by all the people I've managed to piss off. Instead, I opted for a "before all the shit kicks off" Charlie Hardie, sat down watching old movies in a room that is big enough to fit my entire house into. Twice. I'm not REALLY watching an old movie though. There isn't even a tv in that room! I'm acting. Or posing, I guess. But if I were, I'd be watching...I don't know, let's say The Maltese Falcon. And the "booze" in the glass? Ginger beer! The whole photo is a lie and I have made a mockery out of poor Charlie.

Not at all, good sir. I think you nailed Mr. Hardie's world-weariness, staring off into the darkness is a very nice touch. You're probably wearing nicer kicks than Hardie would ever consider, and you look maybe a bit too fresh-faced and young... but those are mere quibbles. You win! Shoot me your mailing addy and I'll send out your hard-earned prizes.

(A lifetime supply of ginger beer!)

I kid, I kid...

Anyway, honorable mention goes to Mr. Ryan K Lindsay, who sent along this photo...

... explaining, "I've attached a real 'think piece' of a photo for Charlie Hardie. I figure this image comes from a lost tale of his with a beard and some real worries about what he's done, and what he's left." I can dig it, Mr. Lindsay. Remind me of your addy and I'll send you a little bonus prize.

Stay tuned for... Mann! Possibly NSFW!

Hitting the Highway to Hell

Yep, I'm packing up the suitcase again for a few quick appearances to promote Hell & Gone over the next few weeks. Am I stopping by a town near you? Well, that depends. Do you live near...

... New York City? Then yes, this Wednesday evening I'll be at the Mysterious Bookshop along with the legendary Lawrence Block, the mysterious Megan Abbott, and the quizzical Q.R. Markham. (6:30 p.m., 58 Warren Street, 212-587-1011).

... Houston, Texas? Again, you're in luck! This Friday night I'll be at Murder By the Book signing with Christa Faust, who's out supporting her latest novel, Choke Hold. Interestingly, director/activist Michael Moore will be at another store, pretty much one block away, the same night. So if you're in town for the Moore thing at 5, wander down the street at catch us at MBTB. (6:30 p.m., 2342 Bissonnet Street, 888-4-AGATHA).


... Milwaukee, Wisconsin? Damn straight, skippy. I've been invited to take part in Murder and Mayhem in Muskego 7 along with Megan Abbott (who I suspect will be reallll tired of me by then), Tasha Alexander, Dana Cameron, Joelle Charbonneau, Sean Chercover, John Connolly, Hilary Davidson, Alison Gaylin, Andrew Grant, Tony Hays, Gar Anthony Haywood, Jess Loury, Gary Phillips, Stefanie Pintoff, Marcus Sakey, Tom Schreck, Kelli Stanley, Martyn Waites and Jeri Westerson. (Tickets still available! Check the website for details.)

... New Hope, PA? Hellz yeah! I'll be at Farley's Bookshop the afternoon of Saturday, November 19. More details soon. (44 South Main Street, 215-862-2452.)

... Joliet, Illinois? Nope, sorry! Hey, I can't be everywhere at once.

Hope to see some of you out on the road. And if not, I do hope you'll pick up a copy of Hell & Gone, which is available in finer bookstores (and e-emporiums) right this very second.

(Photo: "Man folding clothes into a suitcase," Nina Leen, July 1951. Courtesy Life Photo Archive.)

The Big Hallowe'en Hell & Gone (and Birds of Prey!) Photo Contest

Today was one of those happy days in a writer's life when a box containing multiple copies of a book he's written shows up on the front doorstep. That joyous feeling never, ever gets old. And as usual, I'd like to spread the joy.

Want to win a signed and/or personalized copy of my latest novel, Hell & Gone, straight from my private stash? Here's the deal:

Do your best impression of Charlie Hardie, Lane Madden, or Mann from Fun & Games (the first novel in the series) and send me a photo by noon, EST, on Halloween.

"Impression" can mean many things. A costume. A look. A reenacted scene from the novel. Whatever. The winner will be the person whose photo makes me think, Now damn... that's a good Hardie/Lane/Mann!

If you haven't read the first novel.., for shame!... Hardie is an alcoholic house sitter/former tough guy. Lane Madden is a spoiled brat actress. And Mann is... well, you're going to have to read the book to know Mann's deal.

Anyway, send those photos to me at duane DOT swier AT verizon DOT net by noon EST next Monday, along with your mailing address. Top three entries will receive signed copies of both Hell & Gone and Fun & Games, along with some bonus Halloween goodies. (You'll also appear on this humble blog.) But everyone who enters will receive a postcard, thanking you for your submission. In other words, everybody wins! Yes, you can enter from anywhere in the world. It's cool. I'll happily take care of the postage if you rock an awesome Hardie/Lane/Mann.

BONUS CONTEST: I also write Birds of Prey for DC Comics and was lucky enough to create a new character along with artist Jesus Saiz. Her name is Starling, and she's a real piece of work. (Take a gander, above.) If you cosplay/dress up as Starling for Halloween, send me a photo by midnight EST next Monday. The best Starling impression wins a signed copy of every single issue of Birds of Prey from the first year of its run. That's right... twelve issues, signed to your liking, sent to your mailbox each month. You can't beat that with a stick!

Any questions? Email me, or leave a comment below. Good luck!

How Charles Ardai Picked Up a Cocktail Waitress

This past week noir-heads were were thrilled to learn that Hard Case Crime's Charles Ardai had found a lost James M. Cain novel called The Cocktail Waitress, and will be publishing it next fall. I first read about this supposedly "lost" novel in Roy Hoopes's excellent biography Cain, never imagining we'd all have the chance to enjoy it. Ardai, who's clearly the Indiana Jones of pulp fiction, agree to talk about how he tracked the novel down.

Secret Dead Blog: How did you manage to unearth The Cocktail Waitress manuscript? Can you tell me more about the "detective work" involved?

Charles Ardai: A little more than nine years ago, when I first approached Max Allan Collins with the idea of writing for Hard Case Crime (this was a year before we signed the original deal with Dorchester, two years before the first Hard Case Crime book ever got published), we were brainstorming about what authors and books might be a good fit for our new line, and he mentioned that he knew of one last crime novel James M. Cain wrote at the end of his life but never published.  He hadn’t actually seen or read the book, all he knew was the title: The Cocktail Waitress. But he knew that it existed. And he suggested that it might make a good addition to the Hard Case Crime list.

 Well, I couldn’t disagree with that. I’ve been a huge Cain fan since age 18, when on my way home from my first day at Columbia I found a dog-eared copy of Double Indemnity on a used-book table and read it from cover to cover before my bus ride ended.  (It’s a short book.  And a long bus ride.) I’d tracked down and read every single book Cain ever wrote, even the obscure ones, even the bad ones. Even the short stories. I’d done the same thing with Chandler, with Graham Greene, with Vonnegut. It’s what I did with authors who really struck a chord for me. And Cain struck one that had resonated for fifteen years.

So I began the process of trying to find The Cocktail Waitress. Talked to the literary agents who handled the estate – they’d heard of the book but didn’t have a copy, didn’t know where a copy might be found, discouraged my looking because, well, if it had remained unpublished all this time, how good could it be? I thanked them and went on with my search.  Rare book dealers? Collectors of manuscripts? Fellow Cain devotees? I won’t say I talked to everyone, but I talked to a good cross-section, and no one had ever read The Cocktail Waitress. You could get a copy of Willeford’s forbidden Grimhaven (and I did); you could get a two-volume samizdat edition of Salinger’s uncollected short stories (and I did); but not The Cocktail Waitress. There were 34 boxes of writings archived at the Library of Congress, and if I were a Dan Brown character I would have gone down to D.C. and started hunting through them (and wound up chased at gunpoint through the sewers by a maniacal albino, but I digress), but I didn’t – if I had, I would have found it sooner, I now realize, but at the time I assumed what they had was all correspondence, tax returns, and legal papers (most of it is). I did travel a bit, to book shows and conferences, and got the word out about what I was looking for, and none of it did a bit of good. Until one day I was out in Hollywood – Hollywoodland, I suppose I should call it, in deference to the opening of Double Indemnity – and talking with my film and TV agent about the quest, and he said, “You know, I inherited the papers of an old Hollywood agent who used to represent all the big authors when they came out here – Faulkner and Fitzgerald and Chandler and Cain…” And Cain, too?  Yes, Cain.  Could he take a look through the old man’s files (I’m not being disrespectful, the man had been 91 when he died) and see if maybe, just maybe, there was some germ of a hint of a clue I might follow up on, some thread I could start tugging to see what unraveled? A few days later, I got a package in the mail, containing the manuscript of The Cocktail Waitress. It really was one of those Spielberg moments, as I told Dave Itzkoff in the Times: You open the box and your eyes go wide as your face is bathed in a golden light from below. The thing itself. It was in my hands at last.

SDB: Forgive the hardcore noir nerd question I'm about to ask, but... it sounds like you're working from Cain's original typescript. What does a typed James M. Cain page look like? Pristine? Lots of crossouts? Do the letters practically bleed onto the page? Did you run your fingertips all over the pages in a slightly-orgasmic frenzy? (I would have.)

CA: It wasn’t word-processed, that’s for damn sure. Hammered out on a manual typewriter, good old metal-struck letters in nice even rows. Most pages clean, but where he had an idea for something to insert, it’s scrawled by hand in the left or bottom margin with an arrow showing where he meant the new sentences to go. Cross-outs when he no longer liked a phrase and wanted it changed. He caught word repetitions and fixed them.  On the other hand, there were two places where a bit of math is required and he got it wrong both times – computing how much tip is left after you pay for a drink with a twenty dollar bill, and (more forgivably) computing compounded interest on an old debt. Cain’s handwriting is not easy to read, but you have to remember that the man was in his 80s and had had some health problems by then. But when you decipher it, it’s good writing. His editorial instincts were spot on – I don’t think there was one case where he made a change and I thought, That’s a mistake, I preferred it the way he had it originally. One spot of whimsy: When he got to the last page of the novel, he had a lot of blank space left after typing the last line, and he filled it up by typing “T H E E N D” vertically on a slant. You can almost feel the man’s relief and joy at having made it to the end.  He knew he was getting on in years and according to his biographer would talk about his own death a lot; he wasn’t sure he still had it in him to write a novel. But man, did he ever.

SDB: Cain seems to be having, as they say, a "moment" (what, with the Mildred Pierce mini-series and snazzy retro Vintage reprints). What is it about his work that keeps it relevant and fresh all of these decades later?

CA: Cain’s work draws you in irresistibly, and I’ve tried over the years to figure out how he does it, but it’s hard to say.  Something about the way he inhabits his characters’ voices, something about the intimate first-person narration, something about the sense of desperation – you can feel his characters sweating and breathing hard. There’s usually an element of sex, of course, and one of economic hunger, and since when have lust and greed ever been boring? There’s just something elemental about Cain, like you’re reading about men and women stripped bare, the human animal at its most raw.  The emotions aren’t subtle. His people are cruel, they’re passionate, and when they sin, they go all the way.

SDB: Are there other "holy grails" out there? Or is The Cocktail Waitress the big one?

CA: This is the big one for me – there’s nothing else I’ve been looking for this long. You hear rumors about a last, lost “black” Travis McGee, but I’m 99% sure that just doesn’t exist. There’s the original pulp version of THE MALTESE FALCON, but you can find that easily enough if you pay a pulp dealer for it, and I don’t think the differences between the original and the final book version are huge.  There are great obscure books I’d love to reprint and the authors have so far said no, but that’s not the same thing – the books exist, anyone can find a copy if they really want. This is the last great undiscovered manuscript that I know of.

Photo: "Cocktail Lounge in New Union Hall," J.R. Eyerman, 1942. Courtesy Google/LIFE.

Not Now, Starling, I Have a Headache

I'm excited to report that Birds of Prey #1, my collaboration with artist Jesus Saiz and part of DC Comics's "The New 52" relaunch, will be out in comic shops (and your iPad!) next Wednesday. Comics Alliance posted a few preview pages today, if you want a little taste of the mayhem. You can also read my editor Janelle Asselin's take on the new series on the DC blog.

And next Wednesday I'll be celebrating the Birds launch at Jim Hanley's Universe (4 West 33rd Street, right across from the Empire State Building in New York City), signing copies along with Ivan Brandon (Men of War), Scott Snyder (Batman, Swamp Thing), Peter Tomasi (Green Lantern Corps, Batman and Robin) and Fabian Nicieza (Legion Lost). New Yorkers! Drop by after work and come hang with us, from 6 to 8 p.m.

Above: that's new character Ev Crawford, a.k.a. Starling, kicking a little ass inside a church. I'm especially proud of Starling, since Jesus and I were given the opportunity to create her for the series. If you've read my crime novels and dig characters like Kelly White (from The Blonde) and Molly Lewis (Severance Package), I think you'll feel right at home with Ms. Crawford. Come to think of it, those three would make for a hell of a team-up...

For Appearances' Sake: Bouchercon Edition

The early Bouchercons always freak me out a little. Bouchercon is the annual World Mystery Convention. And by "early Bouchercons," I mean the ones in September. Usually they take place in October, but once in a blue moon (as in Chicago, 2005) you get a September. Summer's not even technically over, and yet, I'm packing up for a B'Con. Doesn't seem natural somehow...

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not excited as hell about the whole thing. And this time, the fun will be in lovely downtown St. Louis, MO. A city that I've only visited once, but dug very, very much.

Schedule-wise, here's my deal:

Wednesday (9/14): I'm proud to be joining Hilary Davidson, Glenn Gray, John Rector and Anonymous-9 for Noir at the Bar: De-Bouchercon Kick-Off (Meshuggah Cafe, 6269 Delmar Blvd.) Fun starts at 8 p.m.; brace your livers. You know, one of you may prove me wrong... but after this event, I may be the only writer to have appeared at all three Noir at the Bar venues (Philly, L.A., St. Louis). Go ahead! Prove me wrong! I double-dog dare you! Anyway, you don't have to be registered for B'Con to attend, so stop on by.

Thursday (9/15): I'll be on the 2:30 p.m. "Unnatural Vices: Comics and Crime Fiction" panel moderated by Cullen Bunn, along with co-panelists Max Allan Collins, Gary Phillips and Jason Starr. Room: Majestic D, which also happened to be my nickname in high school. (Note: This is not true.)

Friday (9/16): Come 3:30 p.m. I'll be hunkered down at the Crimespree Magazine table in the book room, signing stuff with the immortal Christa Faust. We'll most likely be warming up/practicing schtick for our joint appearance at Murder By the Book in Houston this November.

Saturday (9/17): My second panel! My God, are the B'Con organizers gluttons for punishment? This time, it's "Payback: Contemplating the Future of the Genre," moderated by the amazing Laura Lippman, along with co-panelists Hilary Davidson, Kathleen George, Bryan Gruley and Bill Loefelm (4 p.m., also in Majestic D). While we're all busy contemplating, I'm sure we'll be cracking a few jokes. Stop by and join in before you head out to get plastered.

Sunday (9/18): I'm proud to say that I'll be attending the Anthony Awards Brunch, since my 2010 novel, Expiration Date, is up for Best Paperback Original. Wish me luck. The awards are determined by votes from this year's B'Con goers, so if you do happen to be a B'Con goer... make sure you find me so that I may buy you the drink of your choice. And perhaps some fine leather goods, or jewelry?

Also, a small reward for those of you who've read this entire blog post: The first five people to see me at Bouchercon and tell me to "Go to hell" will receive an arc of Hell & Gone, my second Charlie Hardie thriller. Come on up, don't be shy. (Believe me, I'm used to hearing those words.) People who walk up to me and tell me to "Fuck off" will be obligated to buy me a beer to soothe my bruised soul.

The Story of O (Motorista!)

*blows dust from this blog*

Wow, it's been a while. I was blogging up a storm all through July, and then I hit San Francisco, and... well, the official book tour stuff ended, and the grueling journey back cross country began (including run-ins with bikers, topless chicks, bullet-knives and a flat tire), as well as a rapid succession of deadlines. All of which is to say that I've been insanely busy, and right now I'm hunkered down in my basement lair, working as Hurricane Irene spins her way up the coastline.

But... I'm not too busy to share a very cool foreign edition cover with y'all. O Motorista is the Brazilian edition of The Wheelman, and let me be honest: they had me at O Motorista. (Is that a cool title, or what? I kind of want to write a Wheelman sequel called O Motorista, just so the Brazilians will have to publish it as The Wheelman, thereby confusing the living shit out of everyone.) Anyway, the cover art itself is a nice riff on the original St. Martin's edition, and just as appealing, I think. All in all, the good folks at Editora Rocco did a bang-up job.

Anyway, what do you guys think? And does anyone out there speak/read Portuguese? I'll give away a signed copy of one of these editions to first person who posts below... and proves it!

Fun & Games Across America: Bound for the City by the Bay

Well, the Los Angeles portion of the summer trek is almost over, sad to say. I'm going to miss this crazy town. I feel like I've been running non-stop for the past two weeks, but also feel like I could use another two, four, ten weeks just to see everyone/do everything I wanted to do/see here.

But no use crying in the warm Southern California sunshine. That's because we're headed up north to San Francisco, my second favorite California town. And there's an honest-to-goodness Fun & Games event this Wednesday night, in case you happen to be in the area.

Janet Rudolph, editor of Mystery Readers Journal (and Philly native!) has invited me to this fancy Mystery Readers NorCal Literary Salon in Berkeley, CA. The fun starts at 7 p.m., and it's a potluck event (attendees are advised to bring "sweets and savories"). If you want to attend, just RSVP with Janet(janet AT mysteryreaders.org).

More postcard/tour updates tomorrow...

Fun & Games Across America: The Starlet

Saw this joint, The Starlet, just a stone's throw from the Warner Bros. lot and just fell in love. Furnished apartments, but also (according to the neon sign) there's a POOL, and if the illustration is to be believed, random buxom starlets on the premises. In the deep background there are a gang of DC Comics and WB toon characters (Batman, Daffy Duck, Superman, Tweety Bird) exploding out of the side of Stage 3. If this image doesn't scream Burbank, nothing does.

Had a meeting this morning in the fabled WB Writer's Building, former home to such luminaries as William Faulkner, Lillian Hellman, John Huston, Irwin Allen and Clint Eastwood. I'll admit; I was geeking out quite a bit about being in the same place where Faulkner toiled many decades ago, especially after visiting his modest quarters in New Orleans just a few weeks back. So yeah... I'm totally stalking Faulkner on this trip.

Also couldn't but help think of the Faulkner-inspired W.P. Mayhew from Barton Fink. "I'll show you the life of the mind..."

Hope you're all staying cool and starlet-like, wherever you are.

Fun & Games Across America: From the Bar to San Diego and Back

 

Yes, it's been a full week since my last post, but that doesn't mean I was sitting poolside, lost in a haze of bourbon and Pinkberry. It's been a busy week, let me tell you. When we last left off... oh yeah, I was headed off to the very first Noir at the Bar L.A., hosted by Eric Beetner, Stephen Blackmoore and Aldo "El Jefe" Calcagno. And it was a true blast. Great crowd, a great lineup of writers (including Josh Stallings and Holly O'Neill West) and a cool space (the Mandrake) that allowed us all to read with an endless loop of film noir trailers playing behind us, which created some interesting, random moments. Check out Mr. Blackmoore with a little James M. Cain backing himu up:

Mr. Blackmoore only rings once.

For the complete set of noir-tinged photos, wander over to my Facebook site. (Not on Facebook? OK, I'll slap 'em up on Flickr, too. Give me a few minutes...)

Most of this past week was spent writing and having meetings about stuff I can't talk about quite yet... but on Thursday I hit San Diego for my very first taste of Comic-Con! I caught a ride down with this guy:

A mini-dog with a mini-hog.

Comic-Con was everything I expected: sprawling, crazy, crowded and pretty damned awesome (once you adapt to the sprawling, crazy crowds). The best part: the happy discoveries. Like aimlessly wandering down one aisle to discover that legendary director Tobe Hooper, of Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Poltergeist fame, was signing copies of his debut novel, Midnight Movie. You'd better believe I flipped the switch to FANBOY mode. Below: a pic of me and Mr. Hooper, who turned out to be the nicest, coolest guy to ever dream up a world populated with cannibal families and evil entities who beckon young children into the light.

Hanging with Mr. Hooper.

Right after this photo was taken I raced over to the Hachette Booth, where I signed copies of Fun & Games for close to an hour. Everyone in line seemed to have a cool first name; I wanted to stop signing and actually jot down a few of them for future use in novels. I was also surprised to see a few youngish kids in line, so I inscribed their copies with a gentle warning: DAVEY, DO NOT READ UNTIL YOUR MOTHER GIVES YOU PERMISSION. Felt kind of like I was corrupting the morals of the young, but hey... you're never too early to hook a new reader.

Finally I raced up to Room 7AB where Charlie Huston was conducting his Spotlight panel. Weeks before, Charlie asked a gang of us to be his secret "expert guests" for a quiz game he'd be running. So before I knew it, I was up on stage with Charlie, Daniel (Deadpool) Way and Circle of Confusion manager Kemper Donovan for a fairly absurd-yet-fun game of "What the Fuck." The rules: Charlie would pick an audience member and ask them a question. However, said audience member was not allowed to answer; instead he or she had to tap a member of the expert panel with the phrase, "What the fuck, Daniel Way?" or "What the fuck, Kemper Donovan?" Prizes were awarded even if the so-called experts totally fucked up the answer. So... everybody wins! I think a cable network should give Charlie Huston his own goddamn game show. Here's Charlie in action:

"What the fuck, Charlie Huston?"

Before long, it was time to return to L.A. I made it to the train station early... only to learn that Comic-Con Con-gestion had snarled up the schedules something fierce, so my 8:20 train turned into a 9:30 train, depositing me back at Union Station just after midnight. You know, I really should have tried to hitch a ride back with that dog on the mini-hog.

Postcard update: Yes, there are still a few dozen to roll out! L.A.-centric postcards are going out  to Laurence K. in Brookings, OR; Brian A. in Amherst, NY; Mark F. in Lilburn, GA; Derek R. in Pasadena, MD; Charles E. in Gainesville, FL; Jeff. M. in Plano, TX; Zachary C. in Rockland, ME; Sarah C. in Aston, PA; Dean B. in Alexandria, VA: Tina P. in Ridley Park, PA; Logan R. in Bayside, NY; Aziz B. in Henderson, NV; Matt S-G. in Chicago, IL; Mary C. in Joilet, IL; Henry DiR. in Cortlandt Manor, NY; Duncan C. in Lane Cove, Australia; Mark A. in Gladesville, Australia; Tania H. in Ottawa, Ontario, and finally, Wostri F. in Budapest, Hungary!

Fun & Games Across America: Noir at the Bar! L.A.! Tonight!

You know this whole Carmageddon thing? Let me tell you, it's been kind of a non-event. I took the back roads (through Burbank, and up around Lake Hollywood Drive, then down in Beachwood Canyon), worried that I'd be late to a party... and I've never seen the streets of L.A. so frickin' deserted. Same thing coming home on the 101 up to Studio City. Deadsville.

So, SoCal residents... this means you have no excuse for not venturing down to the very first Noir at the Bar L.A.!

The event is free; hardboiled-types, noiristas and booze will be in abundance. I'm lucky enough to be sharing the bill with Josh Stallings, Holly O'Neill West, Stephen Blackmoore and Eric Beetner. We'll all be reading from our work. Instead of Fun & Games, however, I think I'll be reading a sliver of a forthcoming novella I've been working on for a while. There's cussing and much violence in this selection; it just feels right for this crowd.

Also, rumor has it... okay, okay, the Facebook event page has it... that noir legends Gar Anthony Haywood, Robert Ward, Gary Phillips and Terrill Lankford will also be dropping by

If you're nowhere near L.A., no worries. There may be a livestream of the event tonight. I'll post details as soon as I receive 'em.

Fun & Games Across America: Poison, Beer and Dust

Haboob.

That's the new word I learned at Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, Arizona last night. "Haboob" is the Arabic word locals use to describe the fierce dust storms that sometimes wash over the entire Phoenix area. Just like the one that hit the city just a few days ago. I think we were in New Orleans when my son caught footage of the latest haboob on a cable news channel. He turned to me, eyes all wide, and said: "Dad, we're not going to Phoenix, are we?"

Had I known the word last week, I would have told my son in the most reassuring tone possible: "Don't worry, my boy. It's only a haboob."

But even a Biblical-style dust storm wouldn't have kept me away from Poisoned Pen. I'd been dying to visit this store for years. In fact, my only complaint about last night's event was that it was over way too fast. Huge thanks to Barbara Peters and the entire PP gang for being so gracious and fun. I'm already looking forward to my next trip to Scottsdale.

 
I also met some people I feel like I've known forever, namely: Patrick Millikin, Poisoned Pen's resident hardboiled expert, who's been incredibly supportive of my stuff since the beginning. Mike MacLean (shown in the photo above with his arms folded), who writes great crime stories as well as Roger Corman flicks (Sharktopus!). And of course, Keith Rawson, that loveable scallywag who co-edits The Crime Factory with Cameron Ashley. What really stunned me about Rawson is that he looks just like a young Michael Connelly. Seriously. It's uncanny. You can't quite see it in the photo above (he's the dude in the red shirt), but in person... let me tell you, I almost broke out the copy of The Last Coyote in my back pocket and asked him to sign it, that's how close the resemblance is.

After the event proper (with Harry Dolan, Thomas Kaufman and Michael Wiley, all of them true gentlemen), Rawson dragged me into a back room for a video Q&A. He's threatened to post it sometime soon. I'm not exactly the most photogenic person in the world, so I'm hoping the fact that a.) it was dark, and b.) I was wearing a black t-shirt means I'll look like a vague shadow, spewing nerdy nonsense from some pitch black abyss.

Then, a small gang of us headed across the street to the Coach House, which claims to be "Scottsdale's Oldest Tavern." And while "oldest" actually means "opened in 1959," you've got to love a place that's open 6 a.m. until 2 a.m., 365 days a year. Here's a photo of Mr. Rawson at the Coach House, trying hard to not look like Michael Connelly and FAILING MISERABLY:

 

This morning the Fun & Games rolled across the rest of Arizona, crossed the California border, and crash-landed in Studio City. On the way into town, I snapped a photo on the 101, pretty much where Lane Madden almost buys it in the opening chapter of Fun & Games:

Thankfully, life did not imitate art. No one smashed into us, or tried to inject us with speedballs.

Thus begins the long L.A. chapter of this tour. This weekend I'll be serving as a personal chef for the immortal Mr. David J. Schow, as well as participating the very first Noir at the Bar L.A. But more on that tomorrow. Because now it's time for...

Postcard Update: Man, did I score some winners at a Shell gas station in Palm Springs. Two words: Sonny Bono. Cards are going out to Thomas L. in Columbia, SC; Michael DiG. in Collegeville, PA; Chris F. in Iowa City, IA; David P. in Putnam Valley, NY; Frank R. in Norwood, PA; Tom C. in Vegas; Oto O. in Serbia (oh yes, we do international here at Secret Dead Blog); Shawn C. in Victoria, TX; Brian M. in Ontario (Canada, too, ain't we hell); Eric H. in Alberta;  Van C. in Jasper, TX; Brad S. in Tucson, AZ; Juan H. in Sewickley, PA; Jeff L. in Cedar Park, TX; Bruno R. in Barcelona; Steve M. in the UK; and finally, Tom B. in West Monroe, LA.

One last time (say it with me): Haboob.

Fun & Games Across America: Phoenix is Hot!

In just a few hours I'll be visiting a bookstore I've been dying to visit for years now: the legendary Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, AZ. I'll be doing a joint appearance with Michael (A Bad Night's Sleep) Wiley, Harry (Very Bad Men) Dolan and Thomas (Steal the Show) Kaufman at 7 p.m. If you're anywhere in Greater Phoenix area, stop by! Granted, the "Greater Phoenix" area seems to stretch for hundreds of miles in every direction... but you know what I mean.

Afterward, I'll be hanging with Crime Factory publisher -- and all-around cool guy -- Keith Rawson, who wants to ply me with alcohol then do a video interview. Little does he know that I have a legendary tolerance, even in this high heat. So the chances of me doing something embarrassing on video thanks to some booze is next to nil. Then again, I usually manage to embarrass myself while stone cold sober. Either way, looking forward to the grilling

A full update on tonight's events... sometime tomorrow!

Postcard update: A mix of Wild West and Arizona postcards are going out to Joe O'T. in... er, Phoenix, AZ (consider it a touch of home); Laurel K. in Pensacola, FL; Tod C. in Horizon City, TX; Ezra W. in Philly; Dan M. in Roseville, MN; Janice S. in Santa Clara, CA; Ben N. in San Francisco, CA; Adam R. in Denton, TX; Lee E. in Pinon Hills, CA; Cotton C. in Upland, CA; Brian L. in Norwich, CT; Sean M. in Muncie, IN; Lola F. in NYC; Holt K. in Albuquerque, NM; Troy K. in Collierville, TN; Thomas P. in San Diego, CA: Robert F. in Vernon Hills, IL; Sean P. in Philly; Joe J. in Fresno, CA; Bradley McL. in El Lay; and Tim T. in Las Cruces, NM.

Fun & Games Across America: The Deepest Heart of Texas

It's been an obscene number of miles since my last post. Something like a thousand, and change... maybe more? But let me bring everyone up to speed. Sunday morning, the Secret Dead Blog tour bus (actually, a minivan) pulled out of Austin for the short, easy jaunt down to San Antonio, where we had enough time for a quick stroll through the Alamo:

 

They say you should remember the Alamo, but it's probably more important to remember the Alamo's business hours, because you ain't seeing shit after 5:30 p.m. Lucky for us we caught it during morning hours. However, as noon approached, we sped up Broadway for a quick drop-in signing at The Twig Book Shop, located at the former Pearl Brewery site:

It's a very cool store, especially if you have little ones along for the ride. And if you happen to be in the greater San Antonio area and are looking for a signed copy of Fun & Games, this is your joint. Meeting us at the store were writer/editor Scott Cupp and his lovely wife Sandi, who showed us the San Antonio sights, including my new favorite Mexican restaurant, Mi Tierra:

When we arrived for lunch, the wait was something like 90 minutes. But we didn't mind, because Scott and Sandi took us to the market across the street where you could find anything from knock-off Batman lucha libre masks to Day of the Dead figurines to leather bullwhips to Mexican wedding shirts. (Almost bought one of those, just to stun Noir at the Bar goers this weekend.) Huge thanks to the Cupps for the excellent company. And for spoiling my children absolutely rotten.

Monday was all about the grueling trip from San Antonio to El Paso... 558 miles, to be exact. Plenty of people warned me about how mind-numbing this trip could be. And yeah, it was a lot of this:

Repeat for 558 miles. Actually, it's all kind of beautiful, in a stark kind of way. There were more mountains and hills than I expected. And there is something strangely fun about knowing there's not another rest area for, oh, 90 miles or so. (Double your points if you have children in the car.) We were happy, though, to jump off the I-10 at the Fabens exit and wander five miles into the desert to visit Cattleman's Steakhouse, which was recommended to us by El Paso resident Tod Clark. (Thanks, Tod.) Not only is it a very fine eatery, but the ranch also served as the set to countless flicks, including The Border, Courage Under Fire, On the Border, The Day After Tomorrow, and Walter Hill's Extreme Prejudice, as evidenced by this clapboard hanging on the wall:

And you have to love a place that keeps a children's zoo in close proximity to a snake pit. Because, you know, the snakes must get hungry:

Sadly I did not see much of El Paso, which happens to be the home of one of my favorite rockers, Bobby Fuller (of Bobby Fuller Four fame). There's even a Bobby Fuller Drive, I believe. But  I was too exhausted to do anything but lug the luggage into the room, write out a bunch of postcards, write some funnybook pages, then pass out as gracefully as possible.

Speaking of...

Postcard update: Found a lot of great (and truly weird) postcards on the road between San Antonio and El Paso. These have gone out to Adam L. in State College, PA; Dave R. in Plymouth, MI; Andy B. in Philly; Angie B. in Pleasantville, NJ; Keith B. in Youngsville, NC; Kelly H. in Milwaukee, WI; Jason C. in Plaquemine, LA; Roman C. in Ardmore, PA; Russ M. in Novato, CA; Richard L. in Las Vegas; John D. in Farmland, IN; Craig Z. in Port Orange, FL; Ali H. in Feasterville, PA; Rafael C. in Philly; Tim H. in Columbia, SC; Andrew N. in Richmond, VA; Brian J. in Philly; Derrick B. in Clinton Twp., MI; Howard R. in El Lay; Andy M. in Memphis, TN; and finally, my old colleague Nicole Y. in Philly. Enjoy!

Tomorrow: Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, AZ! More heat! More driving! More postcards!

Fun & Games Across America: Beer and Chili in Austin

Lane Madden's Austin doppleganger?

Every town deserves an indie bookstore like Book People in Austin, Texas. It's not just the size (huge), nor the selections (smart and cool), but the thoughtfulness, down to the last detail, including the signage and shelf talkers. It's possibly the most inviting bookstore I've ever visited. I pretty much could live inside this store.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that they make visiting pulp hacks feel like freakin' rock stars:

 

Soooo many bonus points for spelling my last name right.

I'll admit it; I was a little nervous headlining my own event after the awesome turnout for Abbott-Gran-Swierczy jawn in Houston. Even with the promise of free beer (a variety of Shiner beers, no less)... nothing's guaranteed. But I'm happy to report that the turnout was fantastic. Even better, everyone came armed with some great questions. And they even raised their bottles of Shiner for y'all:

Note how very few people chose the front row, as if I'm the Gallagher of crime fiction, spewing profanity, beer suds, bullets and blood everywhere.

Seated next to me behind that big wooden table was my buddy (and Book People Mystery manager) Scott Montgomery, who kept the conversation flowing with a lot of sharp questions and observations. You know, the kind that make you seem smarter than you really are. Scott also sold me two books that I'm eager to read: Benjamin Whitmer's Pike and Caryl Férey's Zulu. (I suppose I was in a mood for crime novels with four-letter titles.)

After the event, a small crew of us (Scott, Book People employee Joe, and hot sauce czar Jeff) retired to the infamous Texas Chili Parlor, one of my favorite places in Austin:

Tarantino fans will know it as the setting for the first half of Death Proof. The food and beers were savory. I'm a Yankee spice wimp, so I stuck with a starter bowl of the mild chili. Our new pal Jeff ordered the "XXX" chili, which should have shut down his central nervous system and guaranteed that he'd have to refrigerate his toilet paper for at least a week. Well, Jeff didn't even flinch. In fact, he asked me if our orders had gotten mixed up, as if maybe he'd received the mild instead. Goddamn showoff.

Postcard update: Oh, did I find some stone-cold winners at Book People. Anyway, cards going out to Marty McC. in Cambridge, MA; Andy J. in Jenkintown, PA; Jan L. in West Covina, CA; Kenny T. in Union, NJ; John M. in Derby, KS; Paul O. in Redding, CA; Alex C. in Anaheim, CA; Chris LaT. in Missoula, MT; Robert K. in Little Falls, NY; Ron E.P. in Charleston, WV; Aaron R. in Jefferson CIty, MO; Joseph H. in Las Vegas; Kris E. in Des Plaines, IL; Nelson "Nasty Bo" McL. in Etters, PA; Lonnie V. in Castalia, OH; Tim O'B. in Port Townsend, WA; John N. in El Lay; Patrick L. in Tustin, CA; Theron K. in Long Island City, NY. I've been having a lot of fun writing these postcards, by the way. Sure, my hand ends up cramped to all hell... but there's something wonderfully old-fashioned about the whole thing. And I really love that some of you have been posting pics of the cards on Twitter, letting me know they arrived safe and sound.

Tomorrow morning: The San Antonio lowdown! More postcards! More stories about beer and Mexican food!

Fun & Games Across America: San Antonio by High Noon

Last night's event at Book People was fantastic; look for a longer post (with pics!) on that later. Just wanted to spread the last-minute word that I'll be at The Twig Bookshop (200 E. Grayson, Suite 124) in San Antonio today at high noon today, signing copies of Fun & Games. No formal talk or reading. Just me and a pile of books. Stop by and say hello!

It's just about 8 a.m., which means I need to pack and haul ass down I-35.

Postcard update: I procured all kinds of awesome postcards at Book People that will MELT YOUR FACES. Word on the lucky recipients later.

Fun & Games Across America: Noir Night in Houston

I've honestly lost track of how many times I've signed at Houston's wonderful Murder By the Book. Pretty sure I've been here for nearly every book, including Damn Near Dead, the "geezer noir" anthology I edited for David Thompson's Busted Flush Press. So would that be six now? Seven? All I know is each time is just as much fun as the first.

This time I was lucky enough to team up with Megan Abbott and Sara Gran, who are not only smart and hilarious, but pretty damned sick, too. As Noir Night 2011 attendees can tell you, the conversation took some really strange turns. We somehow managed to cover noir films without crimes, adolescent sexuality, genre-hopping, suburban psychodrama, mosquito-borne diseases, parenting, the importance of place in writing and Rosemary's Baby, all in one rambling session.

Behind the table with Abbott, Gran.

And then we signed books. Lots and lots and lots of books, both old and new, which is always a delight. Afterward we hit the jam-packed Raven Grill for dinner with the MBTB gang, where conversation took even stranger turns... including the realization that all three of us panelists are almost exactly the same age, and all of us read Bret Easton Ellis's Less Than Zero at just the right, tender, impressionable age. (Unlike Ms. Abbott and Ms. Gran, however, I was never an impressionable 13-year-old girl, despite what they may have alleged at the panel.)  The night ended back at the shop with a 12-pack of Shiner Bock and even more conversation. Seriously: get us going, and it's tough to shut us up.

Huge thanks to everyone who turned up, including (but not limited to) Scott Montgomery, Ed Mattingly, Michelle Isler, Scott Parker, Bill and Judy Crider, Karen Kowal (and thank you for the extremely lovely note), Hank Schwaeble and everyone else who I'm sadly blanking on right now.

Today: the mystery train rolls on to Austin, just three short hours away, for "Happy Hour with Duane Swierczynski" at BookPeople, 5 p.m. Sadly, it's just me this time... but did I mention there's free beer? So stop on over if you're anywhere near Austin and thirsty.

Postcard update: Struck out yesterday finding postcards. Will stop at roadside gas stations on the road to Austin to pick up some winners. I seem to remember one tourist trap-style place out somewhere near La Grange...

Fun & Games Across America: Gone to Texas

Yes, those are a pair of silver testicles hanging from the back of that truck. Yes, I'm in Texas.

The trip across the I-10 in Louisiana was long, and it took us through the largest swamp in the U.S. (the Atchafalaya Basin) as well as "Crawfish Country." Every other billboard advertised either crawfish or crawdads, as well as boudin and cracklins (that's sausage and pork rinds to you Yanks). When we crossed the Texas border, however... damn, you could feel the Texas-ness of it all. The big sky does seem a bit more expansive. The highways wider. The spaces more open. Not to mention that everything is suddenly in-yo-face TEXAS. The local Burger Kings don't serve ordinary Whoppers; they feature TEXAS WHOPPERS. There are silhouettes of the state everywhere--on billboards, on restaurant signage, on the support columns of the highways... I wouldn't be surprised to find little Texas-shaped cakes in every roadside urinal. Y'all sure do love your state.

And you know what? I do, too.

Tonight I'm lucky enough to be part of Murder By the Book's Noir Night 2011 with superstars Megan Abbott and Sara Gran. This will be a homecoming in a lot of ways, because my very first appearance as a novelist was at the store's first "Noir Night" back in 2005, along with Ken Bruen, Jason Starr, Allan Guthrie and J.D. Rhoades. This was back when Secret Dead Men had barely just appeared from Point Blank Press, and many months before The Wheelman was published. (I was so green I could have sung a duet with Kermit the Frog.) The night was epic. Many beers were consumed, friendships were forged, and at least one anthology (Damn Near Dead) was hatched.

I'll admit it; tonight will be bittersweet, since this is will be my first event at MBTB without my friend David Thompson. It's always going to feel strange to be in Houston and not see David. But I'm very much looking forward to seeing McKenna, Anne, John, and the rest of the MBTB family who have always made this Philly boy feel right at home deep in the heart of you-know-where.

Anywhere near Houston? YOU MUST ATTEND. C'mon, it's Abbott! Gran! Me! Murder By the Book is at 2342 Bissonnet Street, Houston, Texas, not far from Rice University. Can't make it, and want some signed books? Call (713) 524-8597, or (888) 4-AGATHA and we'll personalize the living hell out of them.

Postcard update: Haven't been out to buy any postcards yet, but will do so today. Stay tuned...