I'm completely brain dead.
I've been sitting here for a full ten minutes now and I've got nothing. Nothing.
But there was one writer who had us all beat. His name: Walter Gibson, aka Maxwell Grant.
Gibson wrote the novels I loved as a kid — I was in heaven when I discovered the paperback reprints on my used bookstore shelf. He was the man behind THE SHADOW, and in 1932 alone, he produced twenty-four 60,000 word novels for The Shadow Magazine, a pulp that was published twice monthly.
120,000 words a month. Not to mention the some 680 magazine articles he wrote a year.
And this wasn’t just some isolated year. He did this for at least a decade.
Argue all you want that his stories were substandard. I freakin’ loved the reprints I read. Still have them on my shelf in fact. The first one I bought — probably in the 70’s — was called THE LIVING SHADOW — and it thrilled the hell out of me.
Just for a moment think about your deadlines and imagine having to write 120,000 words a month.
The mind boggles.
Do you ever have those moments when you're just so mentally exhausted you've got nothing left to say?
In the last weeks of trying to reach this latest deadline, I also received the UK galleys on my next book, saw the release of my second book, WHISPER IN THE DARK (Feb. 2), gave a presentation — along with Brett Battles — at Huntington Beach library, attended Bouchercon, got food poisoning, went to Men of Mystery, did the copy edits for book three, and went to two signings, one an eleven hour roundtrip drive that had me writing in the car as my wife took the wheel.
I'm. Freaking. Brain dead.
As this post makes abundantly clear.
Tomorrow night I'm having a launch party for WHISPER IN THE DARK. 7 pm at the Ventura, California Barnes & Noble. A portion of all sales in the store go to the education community. I hope those of you in the area can come.
If you can't make it then, please join me at The Mystery Bookstore in Westwood at 4 pm on Saturday, February 14th.
I promise to have recovered by then.