What a joy when this kind of post lands in the inbox! Our beloved Ken Bruen sent this to Louise Ure and she offered to have it run today. What a gift.
Have a blessed week,
Pari
End of year approaching
Wondrous wind of change in America.
That elusive near dead concept, HOPE, has re-surfaced.
One of the highlights of 2008 was being part of Murderati.
It is quite unique to have such a disparate crew of writers in nigh perfect synch on one site and the outstanding aspect is the huge affection they have for each other.
You only had to see the crew in Baltimore to see how like family they are.
And between them, they cover just about every aspect of mystery.
The lack of rancour, vindictiveness, envy is magical.
I will always be delighted that I was a part of such an unique and warm team.
How rare it is to make deep friends with people you’ve mostly never met!
And a sad and wrenching year with the terrific people we’ve loved and lost.
Still love and deeply grieve.
They are carved in our hearts, imprinted on our psyche and live in our collective affection.
To have known nigh most of them, being close friends and sparring buddies, is the grace I was given gratis.
I cherish that.
The year saw awards go to so many deserving emerging writers.
Of course, during any year, feuds develop, arguments flare, words are spoken in rushed anger but as Baltimore demonstrated, they are but part of the whole tapestry that is the mystery community.
I truly believe there is no other family quite like it.
I had a brew with a writer who has often professed to hate me guts, we had a beer, talked of books, deals, agents and if there was any lingering enmity, it dissipated on the B’con air.
As it should.
Already, I have received galleys of new books that have fired me imagination.
From tried and trusted names to new and stunning debuts.
The economy sucks
The dire warnings of gloom proceed apace
Nothing really new there.
But you log on to Murderati, Bill Crider, Dusty Rhoades, and guess what, business as usual.
That’s the real hope.
My heart aches for those we’ve lost, I deeply regret losing touch with many I care about, but that is, if not exactly, the business of living, it certainly is the way life continually sideswipes you.
As sure as hurleys are made of ash, as sure as new controversies will arise, I know one thing for sure. Mystery is the beautiful game and in all its manifestations, I’m grace-d to be a player.
Con corazon
Hear, hear!
(Wonderful seeing your words again upon these pages, Ken.)
Sigh – it’s so wonderful to have you back, Ken, if only for a day. Much love to you!
Yes it IS wonderful to see you here again! The only thing that would make us happier would be seeing you here more often.No one makes me enjoy a good cry more than you.Hugs to you, and to your lovely Lisa,Kaye
I can’t tell you all what a delight it was to read this! I had another post set to go and just wanted to have Ken’s words here again.
I know that you, BG, JT, and Kaye KNOW exactly what I mean!
What a wonderful post, and what a great way to start off my Monday.
I’ve talked about the mystery writing community as an ecosystem, but I like Ken’s analogy of a tapestry even better. I see in my mind’s eye an expansive, brightly colored crazy-patch quilt. Some pieces might be larger or more brightly colored, some smaller but more intricately worked. But, if you cut the threads and peel out any one of them, the whole quilt is apt to collapse into the hole left behind.
How glorious to see you here again, my friend.
And what lovely thoughts.
Such profundity in very few words. Mr. Bruen, you’ll always be a great writer, but I’m not so sure Poet Laureate is out of reach after that.
Truly beautiful sentiment. Thank you.
Ken – always a privilege and a joy to have you here.
Thanks for ruining my Monday, Ken.
Somehow… improbably, impossibly, incredibly… I’d missed the news that Gregory McDonald recently passed away.
Not that I really expected another Fletch or Flynn to grace the shelves anytime soon — heck, I would’ve been happy with another Skylar book — but there was always that slim chance we’d meet on an airplane and he’d invite me to dinner on his Tennessee cattle farm.
Now if y’all will excuse me, I must drink my sorrows away and send the bill to Mr. Underhill.
Always a joy to hear from Our Ken.
Ken bro,Your words cut to the bone and the heart. You are the only one I know who is always looking out for his friends while plotting a course into the future. God Bless you, my friend.