You know what? I think I found my mojo in California. It gelled in pieces and I'm still digesting. The waves in Santa Cruz at Jack’s House and the Capitola "gentlemen’s hour" with Ray and the sea otters. The Crazy Larry clan and Bardsley as the good shepherd. Declan’s ambitious play and Plots With Guns murderers’ front row. Martyn. The now infamous Lee Child headlock by Jimmy the Worm. New people and old friends, placing faces to the avatars. The Duke. The Aussie. Funk. Blackmoore. Rucka's assurances about STUMPTOWN’s future. Talking guns and the steamy romance market with Lori. Lazing around with the west coast ladies sipping scotch, eating potato chips, and talking duck confit with Scott. Forensic anomalies from the good doctor. Tasty, salty pig parts and meat cones. Karen. Team Decker and, well, all of Team Decker. Johnny R. Closing the bar, crashing the publisher parties. Ben’s $35 a night room. The Grand Scotsman. Wandering around. The incredibly cool rebels at PM Press. The Jordans, of course. Gorgonzola green apple pizza. Margery’s dogged MWA kindness. The den mother. Shooting the breeze about westerns with Bob. Books, books, books. Weinman’s zeal. New contacts. Woodrell’s gentle definition of the family drama as crime. Advice, advice, advice. Bouchercon in the city of noir. Exhausted. Not enough time, too much time, no time whatsoever. And as for my minor TSA scare at San Francisco International Airport (another story altogether) let's leave that for another time. The boy got his mojo back. Got two acceptances and one rejection once I uncluttered the email. And Black Irish Blarney is back online, baby, back online. NoirCon? Oh my word. Bring it. Bring...it. Onward. And now my favorite song about California....
BIO
10/18/10
Tasty Salty Pig Parts: B'con SF
You know what? I think I found my mojo in California. It gelled in pieces and I'm still digesting. The waves in Santa Cruz at Jack’s House and the Capitola "gentlemen’s hour" with Ray and the sea otters. The Crazy Larry clan and Bardsley as the good shepherd. Declan’s ambitious play and Plots With Guns murderers’ front row. Martyn. The now infamous Lee Child headlock by Jimmy the Worm. New people and old friends, placing faces to the avatars. The Duke. The Aussie. Funk. Blackmoore. Rucka's assurances about STUMPTOWN’s future. Talking guns and the steamy romance market with Lori. Lazing around with the west coast ladies sipping scotch, eating potato chips, and talking duck confit with Scott. Forensic anomalies from the good doctor. Tasty, salty pig parts and meat cones. Karen. Team Decker and, well, all of Team Decker. Johnny R. Closing the bar, crashing the publisher parties. Ben’s $35 a night room. The Grand Scotsman. Wandering around. The incredibly cool rebels at PM Press. The Jordans, of course. Gorgonzola green apple pizza. Margery’s dogged MWA kindness. The den mother. Shooting the breeze about westerns with Bob. Books, books, books. Weinman’s zeal. New contacts. Woodrell’s gentle definition of the family drama as crime. Advice, advice, advice. Bouchercon in the city of noir. Exhausted. Not enough time, too much time, no time whatsoever. And as for my minor TSA scare at San Francisco International Airport (another story altogether) let's leave that for another time. The boy got his mojo back. Got two acceptances and one rejection once I uncluttered the email. And Black Irish Blarney is back online, baby, back online. NoirCon? Oh my word. Bring it. Bring...it. Onward. And now my favorite song about California....