Haven't done this for a while. Let's see if I remember how ...
For the first time in a while, I have a gig promoting BLOOD ALLEY. (The book came out about a year ago. To show you how swiftly and dramatically things can change, Dick Cheney was still influential back then.)
On Friday, May 29, I will be signing copies of BLOOD ALLEY at the Mystery Writers of America booth at Book Expo America. The expo is at the Javits Center in Manhattan. My gig begins at 3 p.m. and will last about a half-hour. I hope to see lots of people there, and to hand out lots of books. The cheerful and cooperative folks at my publisher, Toby Press, are sending me two cartons.
The second bit of news concerns my new novel, still tentatively titled NEPTUNE. I completed the third draft today, and will now enter the dreaded Finishing Touches phase. I still hope to have the book completed by Memorial Day.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
More on the New Book
The new book is actually progressing quite well. I'm whacking away at the unneeded verbiage, and something approaching a completed version is beginning to take shape.
I write on a computer (after years of resisting), and I've reached a conclusion: Writing on a computer does not make writing easier, but it certainly makes rewriting easier.
I write on a computer (after years of resisting), and I've reached a conclusion: Writing on a computer does not make writing easier, but it certainly makes rewriting easier.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Next Book
I recently completed the first draft of my next novel, which I'm calling "Neptune" unless and until I think of something better.
The book has nothing to do with "Blood Alley," except, perhaps, certain thematic similarities.
It is wwaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy tttoooooooooooooo llloooooooooooonnnnnnngggggg right now. I'm trying to whack it down, smooth it out, buff up the characterizations, and do all that other neat stuff you're supposed to do while you're rewriting.
I hope to have the second draft completed sometime this spring. You'll notice that I'm giving myself a lot of wiggle room.
The book has nothing to do with "Blood Alley," except, perhaps, certain thematic similarities.
It is wwaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy tttoooooooooooooo llloooooooooooonnnnnnngggggg right now. I'm trying to whack it down, smooth it out, buff up the characterizations, and do all that other neat stuff you're supposed to do while you're rewriting.
I hope to have the second draft completed sometime this spring. You'll notice that I'm giving myself a lot of wiggle room.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thoughts on an What an Election Means
It's been more than a month since Barack Obama was elected president.
(And we have more than a month to go before he actually becomes president. When contemplating the lag time between election and inauguration, I have to get in touch with my inner Mets fan and say, as loudly as I can: BOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!)
I spent much of the campaign in an unusual position: I, the uber cynic, kept comforting my liberal-leaning friends, family members and colleagues, telling them that, yes, Obama was going to win, that there weren't a gazillion closet racists out there lying to pollsters, and that you should just relax already. (My message to my conservative-leaning friends, family members and colleagues was more succinct: You have no chance.)
Readers and reviewers of BLOOD ALLEY have remarked about the blatant racism on display in the novel. It was uncomfortable for many people to read. It was equally uncomfortable to write. But it was all the product of research. By modern standards, the attitudes of many of the white characters were appalling. In the 1940s, those attitudes were widespread and, in fact, part of the mainstream.
For the record, on the advice of my editors and my agent, I wound up toning down some of the most blatantly racist material. The conversations went something like this:
THEM: You can't put that it in. You can't phrase it that way. Modern audiences won't stand for it.
ME: But that's the way it really happened.
THEM: We believe you. But it doesn't matter.
In the 1940s, you could have gotten very long odds on the the possibility of an African-American ever becoming president of the United States. At that time, it took the minor miracle of Branch Rickey to get African-Americans into major league baseball. That the people of this country elected an African-American, at what promises to be an epochal time in our history, says something about the long, uncertain but ultimately uplifting journey the United States has made.
There was nothing inevitable about Obama's victory. For that matter, there is nothing inevitable about progress. I'm not old enough to have lived through the events I described in BLOOD ALLEY, but the research I did for the book seared something into me -- before the 1960s, it was mind-bogglingly awful to be anything but white in the United States.
So what can we be most grateful for during this holiday season? I think we should be grateful that we are no longer that type of country.
I am not by nature an optimist. The forces of reaction are powerful, and always looking to come back. But as I survey the American landscape right now, I find myself thinking: Maybe we can.
(And we have more than a month to go before he actually becomes president. When contemplating the lag time between election and inauguration, I have to get in touch with my inner Mets fan and say, as loudly as I can: BOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!)
I spent much of the campaign in an unusual position: I, the uber cynic, kept comforting my liberal-leaning friends, family members and colleagues, telling them that, yes, Obama was going to win, that there weren't a gazillion closet racists out there lying to pollsters, and that you should just relax already. (My message to my conservative-leaning friends, family members and colleagues was more succinct: You have no chance.)
Readers and reviewers of BLOOD ALLEY have remarked about the blatant racism on display in the novel. It was uncomfortable for many people to read. It was equally uncomfortable to write. But it was all the product of research. By modern standards, the attitudes of many of the white characters were appalling. In the 1940s, those attitudes were widespread and, in fact, part of the mainstream.
For the record, on the advice of my editors and my agent, I wound up toning down some of the most blatantly racist material. The conversations went something like this:
THEM: You can't put that it in. You can't phrase it that way. Modern audiences won't stand for it.
ME: But that's the way it really happened.
THEM: We believe you. But it doesn't matter.
In the 1940s, you could have gotten very long odds on the the possibility of an African-American ever becoming president of the United States. At that time, it took the minor miracle of Branch Rickey to get African-Americans into major league baseball. That the people of this country elected an African-American, at what promises to be an epochal time in our history, says something about the long, uncertain but ultimately uplifting journey the United States has made.
There was nothing inevitable about Obama's victory. For that matter, there is nothing inevitable about progress. I'm not old enough to have lived through the events I described in BLOOD ALLEY, but the research I did for the book seared something into me -- before the 1960s, it was mind-bogglingly awful to be anything but white in the United States.
So what can we be most grateful for during this holiday season? I think we should be grateful that we are no longer that type of country.
I am not by nature an optimist. The forces of reaction are powerful, and always looking to come back. But as I survey the American landscape right now, I find myself thinking: Maybe we can.
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Best Communications School in America
Michael's, on West 55th Street, is a well-known media hangout that I finally hung out in this week. (I think I need to get out more.) The event was a reception for Lorraine Branham, the new dean of the Newhouse School of Communications at Syracuse University. Alert readers of this blog already know that the Newhouse School is my alma mater.
The restaurant served finger food, which was quite nice, and free booze, which was even nicer. Journalists will never pass up a chance to drink for free, especially in this economic climate.
I talked briefly with Dean Branham and mentioned that the sports department at The New York Times, where I've worked since 1997, is lousy with Newhouse graduates. She was already aware of that. I'm afraid that means she knows where to find us. Dean Branham struck me as intelligent and energetic, and I was reassured that my alma mater is in capable hands. Most of her professional background is in newspapers, so I am, of course, rooting for her.
Dean Branham has a tough act to follow. David Rubin has led the Newhouse School for a long time, and during his tenure a third building was added to Syracuse's communications complex. The university was talking about that building when I was a student there, so his success in bringing it to fruition was a bit like finding the Holy Grail, or constructing the Second Avenue Subway.
I had the opportunity to meet Dean Rubin about five years ago, during a weekend of festivities
marking the 100th anniverary of The Daily Orange, the student newspaper at Syracuse. I confess that whenever I read the material he wrote in alumni newsletters and university publications, I found it anodyne and forgettable. In person, he is an impressive man, and I left that weekend understanding why he was in charge of the school.
As an aside, I had the privilege of being the editor in chief of the Daily Orange during its 75th anniversary celebration. Those of you who are good at math will be able to figure out how old I am.
During the reception at Michael's, I had the chance to catch up with Mark Sullivan, one of my colleagues back in the day at The Daily Orange. We spent most of our time Monday night talking about the Mets.
The restaurant served finger food, which was quite nice, and free booze, which was even nicer. Journalists will never pass up a chance to drink for free, especially in this economic climate.
I talked briefly with Dean Branham and mentioned that the sports department at The New York Times, where I've worked since 1997, is lousy with Newhouse graduates. She was already aware of that. I'm afraid that means she knows where to find us. Dean Branham struck me as intelligent and energetic, and I was reassured that my alma mater is in capable hands. Most of her professional background is in newspapers, so I am, of course, rooting for her.
Dean Branham has a tough act to follow. David Rubin has led the Newhouse School for a long time, and during his tenure a third building was added to Syracuse's communications complex. The university was talking about that building when I was a student there, so his success in bringing it to fruition was a bit like finding the Holy Grail, or constructing the Second Avenue Subway.
I had the opportunity to meet Dean Rubin about five years ago, during a weekend of festivities
marking the 100th anniverary of The Daily Orange, the student newspaper at Syracuse. I confess that whenever I read the material he wrote in alumni newsletters and university publications, I found it anodyne and forgettable. In person, he is an impressive man, and I left that weekend understanding why he was in charge of the school.
As an aside, I had the privilege of being the editor in chief of the Daily Orange during its 75th anniversary celebration. Those of you who are good at math will be able to figure out how old I am.
During the reception at Michael's, I had the chance to catch up with Mark Sullivan, one of my colleagues back in the day at The Daily Orange. We spent most of our time Monday night talking about the Mets.
Monday, September 22, 2008
New York Is Book Country, Part 2
Central Park was beautiful on Sunday, and I was happy to be there. I felt I was in competition with the weather; only a few people were in the authors' tent, so I wound up schmoozing and signing instead of reading.
I followed Philip Lopate on the schedule. He talked to only a few people as well, and he's a Big Name Author.
I did sell a few books, and I gave away a bunch more. As always, it's a treat to talk to people about writing in general, and about BLOOD ALLEY in particular.
After I left the authors' tent, I wandered around for a while and picked up a collection of Hans Christian Andersen tales for my daughter, who just turned eight. As I was leaving the fair, I noticed that the authors' tent was full. The audience was for a group of children's book authors who were putting on a multimedia show, complete with music.
Next time I'll know how to attract a crowd ...
I followed Philip Lopate on the schedule. He talked to only a few people as well, and he's a Big Name Author.
I did sell a few books, and I gave away a bunch more. As always, it's a treat to talk to people about writing in general, and about BLOOD ALLEY in particular.
After I left the authors' tent, I wandered around for a while and picked up a collection of Hans Christian Andersen tales for my daughter, who just turned eight. As I was leaving the fair, I noticed that the authors' tent was full. The audience was for a group of children's book authors who were putting on a multimedia show, complete with music.
Next time I'll know how to attract a crowd ...
Monday, September 15, 2008
New York Is Book Country
I'm going to be appearing at the New York Is Book Country fair on Sunday, Sept. 21, in Central Park, in the authors' tent near the Bandshell. I'm looking forward to the gig (my first one in a while) and I hope to meet some of BLOOD ALLEY's readers.
The gig begins at noon and is supposed to run until 12:40. I'll be reading from the book, signing copies and taking questions.
And then I'll have to run ... because my daughter's eighth birthday party will begin in a downtown location at 2:30.
If I survive the day, I plan to blog about it.
The gig begins at noon and is supposed to run until 12:40. I'll be reading from the book, signing copies and taking questions.
And then I'll have to run ... because my daughter's eighth birthday party will begin in a downtown location at 2:30.
If I survive the day, I plan to blog about it.
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