Moments In Crime

Just finished a superb debut

by Ken Mercer titled Slow Burn
One blistering scorcher of a novel with a fascinating character who combines Jim Crumley, Cormac McCarthy and Sonny Berger.
Now it that doesn't whet your appetite..
Heads up to Michael Homler for sending it my dark way
Email today from the sherif of a county jail in Oregon. Truly took me out of left field.
He'd had a female prisoner, on arraigment, accused of killing her husband.
Among her possessions were my book!
She said to the sheriff
'Y'all gotta read this dude, he's wild.'
I'm hoping the book had no influence on her alleged crime.
I'm not sure of how this links up but it reminds me of The Galway Librarian, who told me, in a tone of recrimination
'You are the most stolen author in the library.'
I assured her I wasn't the culprit.
God know's, I'll do what it takes to move books.
But even I have, if not scruples, at least, limits
I've always been intrigued by the term, Midlist.
One of my favorite authors supplied the answer in The Observer last week.
He asked his agent
'What's below Midlist?'
Not skipping a beat, the answer came
'Poetry.'
I'm far to wily to make any comment on this.
Louis McNeice described our race as
.........................................slouching round the world
.................................with a low cunning
..............................................................and a faggot of useless memories.
The F-word had a different connotation then.
I still smile at what Elmore Leonard's agent said when Dutch asked him
'What to write to make money?'
Pause
'A ransom note.'
Lingering on this general book theme for a moment, Lou Boxer asked me to repeat his favorite professor story.
Ok.
Our University here, who never forgave me for goinng to the heathen Trinity in Dublin, and I have a somewhat, shall we say, cordial relationship.
I got a call from The English Department, one of the professors, said
Seems to be some money in that writing game.'
Game!
I said
'There has certainly been a huge explosion of talent in crime writing here.'
Silence.
Then
'I was thinking of turning out a pot boiler to pay off my mortgage.'
I had a lot of replies to that, none of them civil but went with
'I can let you have a batch of books to give you a broad idea.'
He tut-tutted
I didn't know there was actually such a sound, save in..literature.
I said
'Good luck with that.'
Month later, he rang again, said
'I can't do it.'
Did I gloat or rub his literary nose in it?
Nope
He explained
'I tried so hard to write badly but I kept lapsing into literature.'
I alas, had no Sanctuary to offer.I did however, nurture, what you might call..Slow Burn.
 

Like Desperadoes waiting for a train

Returning from me travels, I took the train from Dublin to Galway.
Louis McNeice loved trains, said he did his best writing on them.
It's just such a treat not to have to drive across the country as the roads are flooded
I'm listening to me MP3, given to me by Craig McDonald
All of Tom Russell on there and I can make notes on the next book.
A middle aged woman is sitting opposite.
Giving me that full assessment that only Irish women can do without subterfuge.
The refreshments trolley arrives and I ask her if she'd like anything.
She is nearly too astonished to reply but settles on a club milk and a tea.
I have the coffee and the shock of me life as the price of it.
I could have three more days in Marrakesh for this
I kid thee not.
She adds Sweet n Low to her tea, saying
'Have to watch my figure.'
I don't say
'Skip the Club Milk.'
It's like the Red Bull of choclate.
I know the signs as she fusses with the tea, she wants to ask me stuff.
I think of Tom Waits.
'Shall I tell you the truth or just string you along.'
We're reaching Athlone, a garrison town, where they train the army.
I did my service there
And though a lousy soldier, I was a great shot.
Comes from all the years of playing snooker
She asks, eventually
'Are you on holiday?'
No
And I leave the dark hole
Meaning, I wait, let her ask if she wants to know.
She does
'Might I ask what line of work you're in?
She has been trying to read my notebook, and getting nowhere
I go
'Guess?'
No hesitation
'Something in the Arts?'
I smile, say
''A librarian.'
She'd delighted, say's
'I knew you had that book thing about you.'
Thinks, then adds
'Wish I had the time to read.'
At Galway station, she gives me a Relic of St Anthony.
Guess she heard about the libraries closure.
On my way back I'm starting to feel tired but take the time to feed the swans.
A man is watchinng me and goes
'Least some of the country is getting food.'
Maybe I should have given him St. Anthony
A storm is brewing and I can see the swans already gathering along the Claddagh for.............Sanctuary

.................................

Congratulations to Louise Ure and Scott Pratt on the McCavity noms
And too
Declan Hughes, Sean Chercover, Kelli Stanley
Class acts all
................................................................I write my novels like I play snooker. Focusing on the next shot. As I wrote Sanctuary, I was already planning events for the next. So, I lay down tiny markers, not be fleshed out or even resolved but almost like rehearsal for the next installment.
With Sanctuary, I pretty much knew from the off, how it would end.
I don't always know.
I literally wait till the characters tell me.
Not or the first time, they blindsided me in Sanctuary, the ending I'd envisaged going south.
i'm always delihted that not only people buy yhe book but take the time to email too.
On Sanctuary, one asked
 
Could Stewart recommend a book on Zen?'
 
Or
 
'How as Ridge post surgery?'
 
Isn't that just magic.
 
When I go into the city centre, someone will stop me and go
 
'You have to tell Jack this!'
 
My own favorite being
 
'Jack is going to love this.'
 
The obesity issue in Sanctuary is drawing it's own heat.
Our history is one of
Starvation
Famine
Poverty.
 
Then we got rich.
 
Fast food joints opened on every corner, people got cars and stopped walking.
 
It got so bad, the Goverment had to introduce measures for schools to up their physical activities.
The recession and the soaring price of pertol got us on our knees but also on our feet and ..walking.
We've long been renowned for our race horses.
Now, thoroughbreds are being sold..to..you guessed it, as their owners can no longer feed them. Libraries are closing in many small towns.
Staying in is not so much the new going out as dire necessity.
The national paper carried a photo of a line of people waiting for food parcels.
The beast isn't so much converging on Bethlehem as in full residence, as has been noted elsewhere, reading is on the up
Especially Mysteries.
And last night, my beloved Chelsea for hammered in the European semi's.
Lest all this seem to reek of despair and gloom, let me finish on this.
My daughter, who has Down Syndrome, attends ordinary school.
I asked her the dreaded question
'Do you ever get bullied?'
She laughed out loud.
'Course not.'
Then added
'Because of you dad.'
What?
Her school friends goggled me and believed what they read.
Fiction does indeed have it's blessings
 

Back home and yes,

it's teeming, rain like a demented banshee
Breakfast is
One banana
Coffee
Greek yoghurt with honey
And melba Toast
Least that's what I'm calling the mangled item that leapt from the toaster
I'm reading Russell Mc Clean's, The Good Son
I have the final episode of series 2 of Madmen this evening and feel it will be even more heart enching than before
I play The Clash for my friend in Marrakesh who has found, if not Sanctuary, then his own separate peace. Back in Ireland after Morocco, it's like surfacing after the bends.
I kind of miss the haggling in the shops.
I certainly do miss the weather, phew-oh.
Writers don't check on how their new book is doing on the chart
Right, and the money is in the mail.
I go into Eason's, our version of Borders and Sanctuary is at no 6
I do a wee jig right there.
Wouldn't you?
Cool it ain't.
But magic, oh yeah.
After twenty plus books published, you're supposed to be
Blase
Mellow
Immune
Not me.
Each new book, I swear by all that's Holy, is like the first.
Forgive my naivete but I want to grab someone, say
'See...see that book!'
But I rein it in.
Delighted but not showy.
John Schoenfelder has sent me the new Colin Harrison and the first 50 pages have me gasping for more.
I love that feeling.
My 3-times co-writer, Jason Starr has a new standalone coming
I fess up
He's my buddy.
But this one, has me green with envy.
Not that I'd ever tell him.
They recently had a competition for schoolgirls and the winning essay entitled the girl to have dinner with a writer of her choice.
 
A ten year old named Clara, won and I swear, she chooses me?
I know
Is she deranged?
Pressure is put on her to select a more....am..presentable author.
Nope.
She wont budge.
God bless her little heart
We meet and I', as nervous as two ticks.
She has a copy of Sanctuary clutched in her tiny hands like a prayer.
She's feisty but irish of course so that's a given.
I ask her, I mean, you have to
'Why me?'
She has an air of self containment I'd kill for.
She says
'I saw you on TV and you have sad eyes.'
Phew.
I'd bought her some stuff.
What do I know to buy a ten year old girl?
So I ask my 16 year old.
She rolled her eyeys and did the shopping. Added
'Dad, don't do all that adult stuff you do.'
What?
So I just talk to Clara like I know what I'm doing.
It goes great and as she'd leaving, she suddenly gives me a huge hug, says
'You're not a bit tough.'
There goes the rep.
I signed Sanctuary for her and because she liked the fountain pen so much, I gave it to her.
Wouldn't you?
Her Mum calls later to say thank you and tells me
'The pen, she keeps it under her pillow.'
There are times, rare to rarest, that life will stop you in your tracks and dispel my theory in Sanctuary about...'Disappointed miracles!

The genesis for Sanctuary

is based on a true story. Told to me by a priest when I'll spent some time in South America, learning..........am........Portuguese.
Obviously, I changed much of the real events, not to protect the guilty but to ease the burden on the survivors.
reviews are trickling in. I'm always amazed by writers who say
'Never read reviews.'
What? I think
'You kidding me?'
Come on. Good, bad, ugly, you don't want to know? Do reviews matter?
You betcha.
Like blurbs.
A school of thought/Blog, maintain that both are useless
When I pick up a debut novel and it has an endorsement by say, Steve Hamilton, Tasha Alexander, I'm sold.
My own favourite blurb was given to me by Hell's Angel's.
Cross me bedraggled heart.
One of my diverse friends knows the Californian chapter well and sent them me books.
Who read.
The angels read?
But live in expectation of battered miracles.
They wrote back.
I have this image of a laptop balanced precariously on a hog as they email and it said
'Rad Bruen or die Muttah-f.........'
Am!
It's not the NY Times but hey, for an ex harley lover, it's sweet.
I've recently spent time in Spain and then moved on to Morrocco.
Taking the battered bus from Rabat to Marrakesh, you turn the hill, and there it is
The pink city. Like a shimmering vision from the Arabian Nights
It's as if you stepped back into medieval times.
Or Michael Crichton had written you into Time Line.
My teaching years, I'd spent nigh on six months there.
What was not to love?
The ghost of Burroughs wafted through the souks, snake charmers on every street and hustlers of every shade.
Being tall, dressed in white T-shirt, blue jeans and a half way decent watch, they figure
'American.'
I never had one moment of nastiness.
Barack is loved.
Works for me.
I'm doing the edits on the follow up to Sanctuary, titled, The Devil.
And you're right, it's going to hell and half way back for jack.
My friend, Bobby, about to finish his first novel would love it here
Sitting in the sunshine, early morning, at a cafe,writing long hand for the joy of it, sipping the delicious Mint tea, I get asked
'You, a writer?'
I now always say
'Nope.'
Too often the answer
'Never heard of you.'
I say I work for an insurance company.
And appear mild enough on the surface for it to fly.
One of my favourite singers
Lorenna Mc Kennit, has written such stunning songs about this city and the call to evening prayer and the lighting of the lamps.
You don't have to believe in a single thing and still, you're moved.
I take a side trip to The Blue Atlas Mountains, to Kief. An old haunt of Keith Richards and how he got his nick name, Kiefer.
When I get back to me room, open me laptop, some new Sanctuary reviews, forwarded by my editor, Marc Resnick who has a wonderful sense of humour and God know's working with me, he needs it.
One review suggests that Jack is mellowing.
Oh..........
And might have even learnt a little of forgiveness
I go out to dinner with an old hippy friend, from my days of teaching.
Reluctantly putting aside Alan Glynn's mesmerizing, Dark Fields that John S has kindly forwarded.
My friend, a Londoner, named Geoff, insists on that G....reks of patchouli and is wearing a tie dye T-shirt, that you can barely read the logo, The Clash.
he rolls a gigantic spiff and when i refuse, he say's
'You used to be a mad bastard.'
Ok
As he locks down on the weed, he asks
'Reality any better out there?'
I lie, say
'Could be worse.'
He gives that doped smile that suggests I know nothing
He might be right.
I ask if Marrakesh is still..A Sanctuary?'
 
He now has the water pipe going, mutters
'Only in books man.'
I'm tempted to give him a few of me own until he says
'I don't like read............man.'
And I think
'More's the Irishe-d pity.'

To begin,

CONGRATULATIONS to CJ Box and SMP for winning the Edgar for best novel.
Couldn't happen for a nicer guy
I first met Chuck and his wife at The Las Vegas B'con
I asked her
'Are you the model for Joe's wife in the Joe Pickett series?' She gave me the look, asked
'You like her?'
I told the truth, said
'Love her'
She beamed, said
Then she is.'
We've been friends ever since.
Sanctuary is out and yet again, a superb job on the cover, I've been gifted with the work on my covers
This Taylor features a nun in shall we say, a less than unflattering light.
Cross me heart, I live in an area named..Nun's Island.
I look out my window and see the rounds of The Poor Clare Convent.
They are an enclose order and as a child, they would ring the bells when they had no food.
They now have a website and you can donate alms , all major credit cards accpted.
I could be wrong but at 6.00 in the evenings, when I see the lights go on in their chapel for evening devotions, I don't think I'm top of their prayer list.
One of me best friends is an ex nun, Patricia Burke Brogan, great name I think and great lady
Her first play lifted the lid on the scandal of the Magdalen Martyrs
2 months ago, close to the site of the infamous laundry, they erected a beautiful Connemara grantie statue to commemerate those lost girls.
The inscription beneath is by Patricia
I took her out to dinner to mark the event and she oped for Chinese.
She handled chopsticks like she was born to it.
I asked
'Where does a nun learn that?'
She rolled her eyes, women do that around me, not out of admiration let me add, said
'Knitting.'
Our Goverment are attempting to bring into being, Anti Blashemy Laws
We are in the throes of the worst recession since the horrendous 50's and every day they issue dire warnings about The Mexican Flu, it is an offence to call it after a certain animal lest we offend other religions
Patricia said, a twinkle in her eye
'Guess who's going to be first on the list?'
maybe I'll re-title me coming memoir ..The Heretic!
 
I'm reading Dennis Tafoya's wonderful, Dope Thief, edited by Kelly Ragland, who edits our fav, Olen Steinhauer.
Need I say more
And back after five long years with a brilliant novel is Jim Himes, Edgar Nominee and finest purveyor of the finest Tequila in Texas
With Sanctuary up for reviews, it's like all you know o0f heaven and hell

One review in particular had me mutter
'You've a happy man very old.'
I've written before of my life long battle with chemical depression and recently, came across this fitting description
'Depression is saddness gone out of control'

Breakfast was burnt toast, due to above mentioned review
fresh brewed Colombian coffee..........heaven
One sad boiled egg and like me, past the sell by date.

Blogging This Week: Ken Bruen

Ken Bruen has been a finalist for the Edgar and Anthony Awards, and has won a Macavity Award, a Barry Award, and two Shamus Awards for the Jack Taylor series. He has been an English teacher in Africa, Japan, Southeast Asia, and South America. He lives in Galway, Ireland.


When a letter containing a list of victims arrives in the post, P.I. Jack Taylor tells  himself that it’s got nothing to do with him. He has enough to do just staying sane. His close friend Ridge is recovering from surgery, and alcohol’s siren song is calling to him ever more insistently.

A guard and then a judge die in mysterious circumstances. But it is not until a child is added to the list that Taylor determines to find the identity of the killer, and stop them at any cost. What he doesn’t know is that his relationship with the killer is far closer than he thinks. And it’s about to become deeply personal.

Spiked with dark humor, and fueled with rage at man’s inhumanity to man, this is crime writing at its darkest and most original.

Sunday's Post

I truly believe you can't be a writer at the top of your game unless you read like a banshee.
The writer I think is most going to explode all over the mystery map is Craig McDonald.
See his interview on Shots last week to gasp in envy at the depth of his learning and his amazing outline of the damn nigh literary bridge he's forging with mystery and still writing hugely entertaining novels, his editor John seems in perfect synch and what a team, a Scorcese/De Niro team of mystery.
Marc Resnick, my own editor is that true rarity, someone you'd love to have a pint with and how rare is that.
A glance at the writers with SMP currently is quite dazzling, a literal who's who of the finest around and with a whole batch of Russell McClean's about to pounce.
The remarkable thing is the friendship between the writers themselves and their friendships with the editors.
It's almost unique.
And not a notion between the lot of them, or any of the so called envy or spite
There is a lovely air of good natured banter that is so healthy as to be extraordinary.
Throw in the writers like Zoe Sharp, editors like Kelly Ragland, guiding Olen Steinhauer and some startling debuts in the wings
That SMP is housed in The Flatiron Building is not only fitting, it's downright perfect

Saturday's Post

What do you do when you are sent a blog where the writer says they hate your writing, your style and basically everything about you
Absolutely nothing
Least I do
Sure, you'd love them to like at least your work
But you put a book out there, you better have a way to deal with the flak
because come it will
Bitter
Nasty
Hurtful
Do you stop writing
Right
That would be a real lie down and die stance
No way
There are lot's of writers I may not find appealing for whatever reason, but am I going to thrash them
Nope
Why would I?
I know how hard this business is and being shot at by other writers seems just about being attacked from within
You take it on board and move on
Add it to the arsenal of material when you're writing the next book
Lot's of ways to skin the bitter cat
 
breakfast
 
A la monica
 
Decaff............oh God, what's the point, like watching a sanitised Pulp Fiction
 
Scrambled eggs as you can claim the unholy mess is intentional
 
A dodgy bagel that tastes like a bad review, swallowed and hopefully forgotten
 
And a resolution to get some decent bacon and fresh bread for tomorrow

Friday's Post

....................BLOG
 
Once were Cops is my heading very close to my tenth novel with SMP
I still gasp in amazement at that
After more than 20 books published, does it become less exciting to see a new book
Phew-oh.............no way.
In fact, it get's better.
Receiving the new book, pristine in it's dust jacket, the feeling is one of pure exhilaration and deep gratitude to the editor, jacket designer and all the team who brought it to me nervous hands
The cover is truly astonishing, I can say that because I've been blessed with a brilliant artist, designer.
Do covers matter?
Absolutely.
least they do to me
They say you have about 5 seconds of a readers attention in a bookstore......the cover is your pleading song and it better sing and oh so alluringly.
Writers are known to be palgued with doubt, insecurity and all that nerve wracking stuff but the moment when you see your book out there, ready to do battle, you know there is nothing you'd rather be doing in the whole world
How great is that
 
Breakfast.......a la Monica
 
Whole new deal today
 
Muesli.........damn healthy right.........piled with nuts and fruit..........trouble is, it looks to nice to eat
 
Soda bread..........with the huge sin of real butter

One slice of bacon, plop that sucker on the soda bread, let it blend, like the best review, and bite down, savour heaven in a moment of hedonistic indulgence

One Alka Seltzer on standby lest the the above go to war