QUIBBLES & BITS

Deni Dietz

Beatrice is busy writing what she calls "chick-lit erotica," so she begged me to tell you that the link she gave you last week for her book JAMES DEAN AND THE MOONLIGHT MADNESS SALE is wrong, wrong, wrong! (Actually, she said "wrong" 6 times!) Bea says the best way to find James Dean is to visit Deni's website and hit the link for Beatrice Brooks.

I [Deni] was planning to blog about gender preferences--do readers prefer books written by men or women, or does it matter?--but Jeff Cohen did a much better [and much funnier] job with that subject. All I'll add is that, at one point in my career, I wrote horror stories under the pseudonym "King Stephens." Those stories are Out Of Print [also known as OOP, an acronym I love], but maybe some day I'll resurrect them.

And so my subject this week will be. . .

[MORE] MISSED-CONCEPTIONS ABOUT THE PUB BIZ

1) My son and his partner, a chef at the 5-star Broadmoor Hotel, wanted to open a restaurant. The woman who owned the building didn't want to lease to a kid with hair down to his butt [my son]. But when she heard that I would co-sign the lease, she was ecstatic. She had read my first two published mysteries and figured I was . . . what's the expression? Oh yeah, rolling in dough. Hahhahahahaha.

2) I was a lecturer for Weight Watchers when I had the idea for THROW DARTS AT A CHEESECAKE---killing off dieters when they reached their goal weights. At which point, I quit my "real job" and started waiting tables so I'd have more time to write. This is just temporary, I thought. I'll sell my book to a major publisher (I liked kangaroos, so that meant Pocket) and soon I'll be rolling in dough. Seven years later, I sold "Cheesecake" on a two-book contract and wrote BEAT UP A COOKIE.

3) In the beginning of a waitress career that spanned 17 years [I kid you not], I looked for PR opportunities--a way to slip my author's status into the conversation. But early on I figured what the...heck.

"How's your lasagna?" I'd ask. "And by the way, I'm a published author."

Across the street from The Olive Garden---the restaurant where I worked when my first book came out---a B Daltons carried Throw Darts at a Cheesecake. The manager, Richard, ordered 100 hardcovers from my publisher, Walker. The first month he sold 98 and I made my first bestseller list. So now I could quit waiting tables, right? Surely you jest!

My "guests" [the people I served] would almost always say, "If you're a published author, why are you working as a waitress?" I'd respond, "Shhhh, I'm undercover, planning to write the quintessential restaurant exposé."

When I began writing EYE OF NEWT, I worked at a restaurant in Manitou Springs, Colorado, where you can find Covens in the phone directory under 'C'. People would oft ask what book I was working on. When I said a mystery starring a witch, they'd reach for their wallets and hand me a business card. "Call me if you need any advice," they'd say. Eye of Newt takes place in the fictitious town of Manitou Falls, Colorado, nestled between Manitou Springs and Green Mountain Falls.

I can sell you a map, if you like. It'll supplement my writer's income.

Since I run an editing service - Stray Cat Productions - next week I'll tell you some funny editing stories.

Or would you rather hear funny waitress stories?

Over and Out,
Deni

PS- Here are my answers to some of the blogtag questions Pari asked last
week:

4 Movies You Would Watch Over and Over:

Diggstown
The Lion King / Beauty and the Beast [tie]
The Shawshank Redemption
Johnny Depp [in anything]

4 Places You Have Lived:

Colorado
Wisconsin
New York City
Houston

4 TV Shows You Love To Watch:

House
Medium
Cold Case
NFL Football (Go Broncos!)

4 Places You Have Been on Vacation:

Australia
L.A.
Indiana
Florida

4 Of Your Favorite Foods:

Cheesecake
Custard-filled doughnuts
Shrimp with lobster sauce
Pizza

[And I'll add] 4 Authors Who Made Me Want To Become a Writer:

• William Goldman
• Anya Seton
• Susan Isaacs
• John Steinbeck

Il Faut Cultiver Votre Jardin

Pari Noskin Taichert

The title of my post today is in French. I figure a little erudition might start the work week off right. Voltaire put the above famous words into the mouth of Pangloss, an extraordinary optimist, in his book CANDIDE. It's the character's stock response to all trials and tribulations: "You must cultivate your garden."

I've been thinking about how so much of marketing involves this Panglossian focus -- especially when it comes to book signings. I read the debates on listservs and blogs about their merits and disadvantages and am disturbed. Frankly, signings have gotten a bad rap because we've got our heads screwed on at a lousy angle when it comes to this subject.

Ah, let me put on my therapist's hat for a minute . . . (For those of you who don't know me, I actually have a nice chapeau ["hat" in French] with a tassel from the University of Michigan School of Social Work where I trained to be a therapist in grad school.)

To put it plainly, I think most writers who dis signings -- specifically at bookstores -- are victims of their own inflated sense of self-worth.

Ouch! I can hear the slings of anger already. But think about it. We're perfectly happy to let other people sell our books for us at stores. Aren't we? So why do we get pissy if we have to do it ourselves?

I think it's because we expect to be worshiped. On some level, we buy into the idea that we're special, that people should be impressed -- that our work should zip to the cash register simply because OH, MARVELOUS WE have written it and are deigning to make a divine visitation somewhere.

Come on. The world's a big place and, face it, most of us are little sprouts.

Somehow, though, our egos are the size of redwoods.

The reality is, when we get to bookstores, the majority of people there don't care. They haven't heard of us (this often includes the staff) -- even if the bookstore has sent out notices, newsletters -- even if we've gotten local coverage on television, radio or in print.

It's a slap to our egos. Hence the raging discussions on the internet. We hide behind complaints to salvage our self confidence: My feet hurt. The taxi is dirty. My time is worth more than this. I only sold three books. Wah.

If it's a formal signing -- one with a presentation -- we get upset if only a handful of people show up.

If it's the sit-at-the-front-of-the-store variety -- we moan and groan about having to peddle our wares to strangers; it feels like we're shysters or hucksters.

We're never really satisfied. We often forget to be grateful.

"Why bother?" we whine.

Well, grasshoppers, Il Faut Cultiver Notre* Jardin. That's why. And, no garden grows without work and a vision. Book signings are among the hardiest seeds we can plant -- the marketing seeds -- to further our careers.

1. They help us know -- and be known by -- booksellers who then hand-sell our work long after we leave.

2. They introduce us to those folks who don't care about us . . . but might, if given a reason.

3. If we get media attention, book signings help increase our name recognition so that someone might want to buy our books in the future.

And then there's the YNK (You Never Know) factor that fertilizes possibilities beyond our wildest imaginations. YNK is my favorite part of the book signing process. It's the sure knowledge -- based now on tangible experience -- that someone with whom I speak at a signing might become a friend, a reader, or a person who'll go out and champion my books better than I can.

Okay, okay . . . I have a bit of a disclaimer: not every author should do signings. Painfully shy people should avoid them and concentrate on internet efforts. Intrinsically nasty, mean writers should decline offers, too.

But, for most of us, they remain effective. It's time to stop the unbecoming whining and the sniveling short-sighted debates. Let's get past our egos and cultivate relationships with our audiences (booksellers, readers) in personal ways.

If this sounds dreamy -- too optimistic -- I can only say that my steady efforts continue to grow my readership. Signings are part of the package -- they're a long-term investment like preparing and planting cherry pits with the hope of growing good, solid trees.

I see the seedlings gain strength everyday.

Cheers,

Panglossian Pari

* FYI: "notre" means "our"-- just in case you noticed the change in the phrase the second time I used it.

----------------- Speaking of optimism: here's an uplifting website to check every once in a while for good news in the world -----------------------

Steps to Peace

By Any Other Name

Jeffrey Cohen

"You know, part of the problem might be your name."

The advice came from someone--I won't name who--in the publishing industry, a person whose opinion I greatly respect, and whose advice I seek out. It was a typical brainstorming session, one where a writer tries to determine how to take the ever-elusive "next step" toward increased success (or in my case, success). And now, my confidante was making a suggestion that might help.

I was a little shaken, I have to admit. "Are you suggesting I use a pseudonym?" I asked.

She said she was. And I took a moment to let that sink in. Apparently, sales of my mystery novels might be stronger if I was only, you know, someone else.

"It's not your name," my friend said. "It's just that women buy the majority of books, and (the manuscript we were discussing) is aimed at women, it has a female protagonist, and sometimes women feel more comfortable if the book they're reading wasn't written by a man."

So it wasn't so much my name that should be changed as my gender. It was hard to know whether I should be relieved or more worried. I said I'd think about it.

I've long blathered on, whether prompted or not, about being mystified at the use of pseudonyms. My feeling always was that if an author took the time and trouble to sit down and write an entire book, s/he should be proud enough to affix his/her name to it. And an author writing "as" another personality was something I've never really understood at all. If you're going to say on the cover that you're one writer pretending to be someone else, what exactly was the point to begin with?

This reached its pinnacle for me a few years ago when Ed McBain and Evan Hunter "collaborated" on a mystery together. Seeing as how both McBain and Hunter were the same person (and his name was neither McBain nor Hunter), I thought that was quite the feat.

Don't get me wrong--I've written under another name before. I've ghostwritten books for people who were clearly not me, and their names were printed on the front cover of the books, which was fine with me. My name was written on the checks, and I was happy to get them.

So it wasn't just a question of ego that was the issue here. If I could become a more popular writer by putting another name on the cover, that was certainly something worth considering. But I had questions about the philosophy behind the proposed move.

For one thing, if a book has characters a woman can relate to, and she enjoys reading it, why should she care what the gender of the person writing it might be? Are women really so dedicated to reading only books written by other women that they would make that a criterion for their choice of reading material? It didn't make sense to me. I thought most women were smarter than that.

Furthermore (and the fact that I used the word "furthermore" might give you an indication how strange this whole exerience was for me), what was this assumption based upon? After all, The Da Vinci Code had a man's name on the cover (two men, if you count Da Vinci), and that didn't seem to be hurting sales too much. If I could do that well on the charts, I'd be satisfied, I'm pretty sure.

Then, of course, came the inevitable question of what my "new" name would be. My wife suggested I use her name, but then withdrew the suggestion when she realized people would think she'd written my books. She's read my books, and likes them, but needs to maintain her dignity. I understood completely.

So I started trying to create a name that might clue a reader of my previous works in on the fact that there was a familiar presence behind the new work. Heck, I haven't spent the last five years building up a fan base that runs into the tens, only to discard it with a new, more estrogen-rich, persona. Maybe I could say the new book was written by Abigail Stein, the lead female character in my Aaron Tucker series. But no. Abby would probably need to maintain her dignity, too.

There's the old "stripper name" trick, where you take the name of your first pet and the name of the street on which you grew up, but "Peabody Campfield" sounded like someone sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, pulling on his moustache and drinking a glass of port. That guy would really need his dignity, and besides, would be a man, thereby making the whole enterprise pointless.

Sorry to report, I never came up with a decent distaff name for myself, but I might return to the pursuit if I'm ever really convinced it's necessary. Which is possible. There are days I'd pretend to be a remarkably articulate cocker spaniel if I thought it would help me make a living in this business.

I'm not being obtuse or naive--I understand that there are certain marketing realities in life, and I'm sure they've all been researched beyond question. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if publishers found my work more attractive with an androgynous or clearly feminine name as the author. And I might at some point try such a gambit if I were made to believe it would really help. I can be as pragmatic as the next fellow. Or girl, as the case may be.

But there's something a little insulting to the suggestion. More to the reading public than to me. I really want to believe that women--and men--will read a book if it offers a compelling story line, likable (or at least interesting) characters and a point of view the reader might enjoy. I've never put my hand up to take a book off the shelf at a bookstore or library and then pulled back upon realizing the author wasn't the same gender as I am. Why should it be assumed a good many people of either sex would?

Sometime in the future, it's entirely possible that a book will appear in stores and libraries whose byline suggests it's written by--I don't know--Jeffronica Cohenstein, and maybe you'll buy it, and maybe you won't. I like to think the author's name matters, but for different reasons. Like that you've enjoyed that author's work before.

Of course, after Ms. Cohenstein's book became an international best seller, launching a series that established "her" as a sly writer of enjoyable novels, I might be proven wrong. I've been wrong on more than one occasion in my life. Cohenstein could become a household name, a veritable synonym with "riotously funny mystery book." Then, perhaps, one day I could collaborate with "her" on a new novel.

It's been done before.

ON THE BUBBLE WITH DAVID MONTGOMERY

I like to tease David Montgomery.  I tell him the only reason he's a reviewer is to get all those free books.  But it ain't true.  David really, really loves mystery/crime/suspense/thrillers.  And because he does, he is one of the best out there.  Just look at his credits:  Chicago Sun-Times, National Review, USA Today, Kansas City Star, January Magazine, Philadelphia City & Inquirer and then there's the Boston Globe and the South Florida Sun-Sentinel.  His CRIME FICTION DOSSIER is one of the best on the web, and he has another great site - OVERNIGHT SUCCESS?  It is here that some of the hugest (I know that's not a word, but I like it) writers share their travails to being published.  And then David has MYSTERY INK - the home of the prestigious GUMSHOE AWARD- now in it's fifth year.

So come meet David-

EE:  Word is, David, Marilyn Stasio, the infamous New York Times book reviewer confers with you first before writing her column.  I think it's time we knew the truth.

DM:  I wish she would!  Stasio generally has excellent taste in books, and her writing is good, but I often find her reviews unsatisfying.  There's not enough analysis or opinion in them.  It can be tough to do when writing in the column format, but I'd like to see more meat in there.

Yeah, me too.  I'd also like to see my book there. Do you know where I can find a voodoo doll?

EE:  And what about the rumors that your annual Gumshoe Award, so prestigious it fairly kills writers who are never short-listed, is just a ruse to get nominees and winners to join the publishing house you've got going on the back burner?

DM:  It's funny that you say that, as I'd love to run a publishing house.  Soon as I win the lottery, I'm starting one.  As for the Gumshoe Awards...the staff at Mystery Ink tries hard each year to single out the best books, hopefully with an eye towards some more unconventional choices.  It's a helluva task, but the really hard part is singling out the winners.  I'd rather just make the shortlist and leave it at that.

Just the shortlist?  Hmmm.  That idea has merit.  That would mean I was a winner!  Yeah, I like that, David.

EE:  Okay, here's a hot one:  I've been told (and I'll just faint if it's true) that you've been approached by Rupert Murdoch to pen a mystery related gossip column for The Enquirer.

DM:  I've got tons of great gossip, so I've been looking for an outlet where I can use it. (My blind items are killers!)  As it turns out, however, nobody knows who the mystery writers are, so the idea was greeted with a huge "WTHF?"

Huh?  Nobody knows US??  Who the hell do they think keeps them up at night?   We've got to remedy that, David!  We'll put our heads together at ThrillerFest, okay?  Maybe we'll let Guyot sit in on this.  He's kinda twisted too. Too bad JLW ain't gonna be there.

EE:  Okay, lets get to the nitty gritty.  What sex symbol do you think you resemble? Does Maili agree?

DM:  Unfortunately, the only celebrity I resemble is Anthony Edwards (formerly Dr. Mark Green on ER).  I was at the In-N-Out Burger in Ventura one time when a woman I didn't know came up to me and told me how much I looked like Edwards.  I protested that, unlike Edwards, I actually had hair, but she didn't seem swayed.

Awww (gush, gush) you're much better looking than Edwards. And that goatee is soooo cool!

EE:  Who are the seven people you'd invite to dinner?  And why?

DM:  I'd invite anyone who'd pay!  Seriously, though, one person I'd love to have dinner with, but never got the chance, was Ross Thomas.  Ross was my favorite writer and unfortunately I never got the chance to meet him.  We corresponded for a little while before his death, but that was it.  From everything I've heard, he was a wonderful man, and he's someone I really would have liked to know.  His books continue to dazzle to this day.

Yes, I can see you'd feel that way.  He was a master.

EE:  You've been a panelist, and a moderator at several cons, and will be sharing the table with Lawrence Block & David Morrell this weekend at BEA, so with all that experience, give us the ideal panel you'd like to moderate.  And don't mention Dan Brown, okay?

DM:  To be honest, my ideal panel is one that I don't have to moderate!  That's the downside to getting a rep as a good moderator: people always ask you to moderate the panel, rather than participate on it, the latter of which is much easier and more fun.  (The upside to it is that you can always get a gig.)  In general, though, I like panels where people discuss books, writing and publishing in a serious way and aren't afraid to share their true thoughts.  It also helps if Barry Eisler is on it, 'cause he's cute and people like to look at him.

Well, yeah-Barry IS easy on the eyes. But I like the way you sneaked around my question, David!  Very diplomatic.

EE:  Which writer would you love to have all to yourself in a cozy corner of the bar at then next con?  We won't tell Maili.  Cross our evil little heart.

DM:  I mentioned Barry already.  He let me touch his hair once...I'm still aflutter over it.  There are some very attractive female crime writers out there, no doubt.  If I were making a list, my darling Elaine, your name would be at the very top.  So let's book a booth!

Ohhhh?  Now MY heart's afluttering!  Honey, I'm so there.  Shall we take the booth in the back?

EE:  Whew, I'm still afluttering.  I'll be calm in a minute.  Okay, I'm fine now.  So, David, which Rock & Roll star would you trade places with?  No substituting Hip-Hop, please.

DM:  Not a Rock & Roll star - I always wanted to be Frank Sinatra.  Frank put 'em all to shame.

I always knew you were a man after my heart.  Remember his 'All Or Nothing At All'? 

EE:  Rumor running rampant in Mystereyville is that you feed Paul Guyot all of his best lines. Gasph.  Could this REALLY  be true?

DM:  Yes, it's true.  Guyot has me on a monthly retainer to write jokes for him.  (I'm kind of like the straight Bruce Vilanch.)  Paul's fashion sense is all his own, though.  I tried telling him that oversized hockey jerseys are So 1988, but he won't listen.

It's true??   Oh, no!  All this time I thought...oh, well...live and learn, huh? 

EE:  My spies tell me that you're working on a new project that will blow the roof off The Da Vinci Code. A hint or two wouldn't be too much trouble now would it?  I mean, we could get some advance buzz going on here.

DM:  The Da Vinci what?  Yeah, I'm working on a novel.  A thriller, of course.  It's about...well, it's really to sensitive to talk about now.  Next question?

What?  Is Hayden listening?  He hasn't been confirmed yet, has he?

EE:  Buzz around town is that you're Barry Eisler's role model for John Rain and that Lee Child is claiming first rights for Jack Reacher.  Would you please put this rumor to rest once and for all?

DM:  Due to the ongoing nature of various legal actions, I can't comment on that at this time.

Claiming the Fifth again, huh?  I gotta say - you reviewers are tough nuts to crack.

EE:  Okay, this time I want a real answer.  I'll get you on this one!~  I have it on very good authority that you're really not David Montgomery, but are, in truth, a runaway heir to the ancient Monrovian royal house because you just want to be a regular guy.  Tell me this is false, David!  I mean, if I have to curtsey every damn time I see you...well, it would just be too hard on my lumbago.

DM:  It's actually the Stroganoff Family - not as well known as the Romanoffs, perhaps, but just as important.  Every time someone east beef in mushrooms and sour cream sauce, I get a nickel.  That's the only way I can afford to be a book critic, which pays about as well as being a midlist mystery author these days.

Then I won't have to cursey?  Thank God for that.  But, uh, David?  Stick with the reviewing, okay?  You're probably making MORE dough than us.

EE:  Any truth to the talk that you're planning to buy the Chicago Sun-Times so you can have the front page all to yourself whenever you want it?

DM:  Get into the newspaper business?  What are you, insane?  I think I'll stick to playing the lottery. The odds are better.

Insane?  Moi?  Well, hell - I've been called worse.

EE:  Time for the BIG truth here, David!  Why don't your legion of readers and friends know that you're an accomplished symphony tuba player?

DM:  Unfortunately, I had to give up the tuba after I herniated myself helping Mike Connelly carry around his ego.  Can you believe that guy?  Have you ever heard anyone talk more about themselves?  You can't shut him up!  Next time, I'm taking up the piccolo.

Ahem, yes, darling David - I do know a few that talk more about themselves than Mike.  We'll trade notes at ThrillerFest.  But we can't let Guyot sit with us then.  He's such a damn blabbermouth.  Did you hear what he said about....

Oopps!  Sorry!  I forgot you guys were still here.  Come back next Saturday and listen to what Gayle Lynds has to say!

I'm Speechless

JT Ellison

I debated long and hard about the title of this week’s blog. “Dancing in the Streets” seemed appropriate, but a little too retro. “What A Feeling” is apropos, but a little too, well, Flashdance. So let’s settle on what I’m really, truly feeling. Speechless.

I’ve been walking around with a stupid grin on my face since last week, when I received what will be hereafter forever be referred to as “The Call.” The Call came from my agent, a spectacular guy housed high in a building in New York, where he gets to make people’s dreams come true. What a job, huh? As with many agents, he’s a busy guy, so if his number shows up on the caller ID, generally something’s up. And man, was something up last Tuesday.

Let me backtrack for a moment. When Murderati launched back in April, I told you I’d wait to tell you my story. Bits and pieces have come out, but the essential JT Ellison is still under wraps. Let me go over a couple of things that ultimately led to The Call, before we go into the details of said Call, okay?

I’ve been a writer my whole life. I started young, with picture book stories, little shorts with handmade felt hard covers that I illustrated and carried around proudly. I dabbled in poetry, read anything my parents would let me (which was pretty much everything) and dreamed of being famous one day. Then came my first introduction to the harsh world of publishing.

I won a contest when I was in the third grade – a poetry assignment for the local newspaper. I was studying slavery at the time, and wrote this poem from a slave’s point of view. The judges liked it and I won the contest. My grandmother on my Dad’s side, GranMary, was a journalistic type in Gainesville, Florida. She wrote a column in the newspaper, did some short romances, that kind of stuff. My parents sent her the poem. She sent it to TRUE CONFESSIONS magazine. I promptly received a very nice REJECTION LETTER. I was eight. I understood why they didn’t want my poem about slavery – really, what’s romantic about that?

Fast forward to college, senior year, and a professor who told me I’d never get published. (I’m looking for her email address, by the way, just so I can say nannie-nannie boo-boo to her, the big spoilsport!) That probably offhand comment by a frustrated artist killed my creative spirit. I stopped writing, took a job in politics, went to graduate school to learn how to run political campaigns. Met Hubby, so I guess I need to thank her at the same time. It’s one of those things, the road not taken, which baffles me. I can’t imagine doing it any other way, but what if she had been encouraging, thought I should go ahead with my MFA?

I actually was going that route until my French credits messed the application process up. Apparently, I didn’t have the appropriate language labs fulfilled. I could go back to school for a semester, take French III with language lab, and then I could go for my MFA. Like being able pour s'obtenir à la W.C. dans le Français parfait had any bearing on my ability to write in ENGLISH. So George Washington’s Graduate School of Political Management was the way to go, on every level. I can only imagine what kind of damage that MFA program would have inflicted on my style.

Fast forward to 2003. I’m living in Tennessee, am in between jobs, and have some time on my hands. I’m reading John Sandford’s Prey series front to back. I have a wild hair. I’m going to write a book.

So I did. It was terrible. A true study in cliché, a perfect example of what not to do. Let me assure you, a brilliant first novel really is rare. If you’ve written your first, don’t submit it. Write another. See how much your style improves from one to the next. Then you can start submitting. I tell you this because I made the mistake of submitting the first novel. Egad, it was so bad. But it had a few passages that were very good. After a slew of rejections from publishers and agents, I started over with the best parts of Book 1. That became CROSSED, which got the attention of my agent.

I’m glossing over a lot of angst and sleepless nights because this is the good part, the strawberry days. When the book wasn’t getting the right attention, my agent had the foresight to suggest I write another. ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS caught the attention of my new editor Linda McFall (I love saying that) at Mira Books. I can't imagine a better fit for me.  Now we’re up to date. Rewind to last Tuesday, when I received The Call.

What made this event so incredibly amazing, aside from the fact that I got to hear the magic words – three-book deal – my parents witnessed THE CALL. They are snowbirds, in a sense. The spend summers in my hometown in Colorado, when I spent my formative years. Twice a year they pack up their SUV and drive between homes. This year, they decided to come a day early, spend a few extra hours with Hubby and me. They’d been here for about half an hour, just gotten settled into chairs with drinks, when the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and said something, well, rude. Along the lines of "Oh *^&%". Remember I told you agents are busy folks? They don’t call just to see how your day is going. I knew this was something.

I don’t remember too much of the conversation, unfortunately. My agent teased me a little in the beginning, and since I’m the eternal optimist, I’m thinking, “Damn it, I’ve blown it. It’s over.” My heart was thudding so loudly that I didn’t even hear what he was saying until the words “three book” popped into my consciousness.

I made him go back and repeat everything he’d said. I managed to get through the conversation, half acknowledged when he said congratulations, you’re a published author now, go call your husband. I got Hubby on the phone and told the three most important people in my life the most important news I’ve ever received. And promptly cried my eyes out. I’d finally done it. I have a book deal.

So this column now takes a new turn. I’ll do my best to help the Newbies understand the process of getting published. I’ll talk about my hopes and fears for the series of books I’m working on. Walk through the editorial and creative process as I go along. I’ll chronicle this journey, and share my mistakes and celebrations. The first book will be out in late 2007, so we’ve got plenty of time to sort through the details.

Apparently, I’m not quite as speechless as I thought. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to send an email, or call, or post on their blogs to help me share in this news. I’ll tell you, getting emails from writers you read and love, congratulating YOU on getting published, is a trip. I appreciate each and every one of you, and hope never to disappoint you. Have a great weekend, everyone! I hope all of your publishing dreams come true.

Wine of the Week – Dom Perignon, of course.