Springing Forward

T.S. Eliot may have characterized April as the cruelest month, but personally, I think he just needed a vacation. Such a pessimist ... without even the excuse of an IRS deadline. ;)

So ... I can't believe spring is already here ... we were just in the throes of winter!

Last time I posted, I was on my way to Los Angeles and Left Coast Crime ... which was a fabulous conference, as it always is, despite a nasty cold I developed a couple of days before the flight.

Speaking of flight, what a thrill it was to ride Angel's Flight and eat at China Cafe (rumored to be Marlowe's old hangout for chop suey) with friends and fabulous writers Keith Raffel and Bill Cameron. And to see Rebecca Cantrell and Rita Lakin win awards (for the Bruce Alexander and Lefty, respectively). And to participate on a Pulp Fiction panel with some great writers, among them Eric Beetner, author of ONE TOO MANY BLOWS TO THE HEAD, who also very generously filmed a candid video interview with me for Spinetingler Magazine. Another video, this one filmed by JohnRay Gutierrez of Kepler's in a film noir style, was also a ton of fun--you can check it out below.

While at LCC, I signed at the venerable Book Soup on the Sunset Strip, had a chance to at least say hi to a lot of friends like the delightful and talented writer Holly West, and all in all, it was the best time I've ever had with a cold. :)

Just a little later in March, I flew to Portland and the Public Library Association Conference. This was quite an event--I loved meeting librarians from all over the country, had a chance to chat with friend Wilda Williams from Library Journal, and generally enjoyed a fabulous time signing copies of CITY OF DRAGONS and giving them away. I only wish we hadn't run out in such a short time!

Same evening I gave a reading and signing at Powell's in Beaverton. If you haven't been to a Powell's, make it an ambition. These giant independent bookstores are monuments to literacy and the great reading public of Portland, and it was an honor to sign there.

Throughout my Portland adventure, I palled around with stellar author and friend Bill Cameron. Bill lives in Portland, and I'm eagerly awaiting his next book, DAY ONE, a hot and riveting thriller from a superb writer. Don't miss it!

On April 1st, I experienced the rare pleasure of reading CITY OF DRAGONS in a Chinatown bar. It was part of Subterranean Noir, a Litquake/City Lights event in which the brilliant Edgar-winning author Domenic Stansberry and I had a chance to showcase our work in the basement of one of Chinatown's most venerable "joints" ... and luckily for us, hardboiled writer Mark Coggins (THE BIG WAKEUP), who is not only a great writer, but a great photographer, was on hand to shoot some film. You can read about it in Mark's blog on The Huffington Post.

I'll be heading back to the City of Angels in a couple of weeks for the LA Times Festival of the Book, where I'll be signing with Mysterious Galaxy and The Mystery Bookstore. A few days later, it's NYC and the Edgars, my first time attending the "Oscars" of the mystery-writing world.

But what I've really been doing--and will be doing for the next couple of months--is writing. I'm deep into the sequel of CITY OF DRAGONS--working title is CITY OF SPIDERS--and am racing toward my deadline and the finish line.

In other news, the audio version of CITY OF DRAGONS is now available, and I was thrilled and delighted to see the hardcover reach #2 on the IMBA Bestsellers list for February--and a heartfelt thank you to all the readers, bloggers, librarians, booksellers and friends and colleagues who made that happen! I was also privileged and honored by a recent review in the San Francisco Chronicle.

Have a wonderful April--and thanks for reading!

Mahalo Morning

The last few days have been blurry. Of course, it could be that I need a new eye prescription, but I don't think so.

Hawaii lingers on the mind, the odor of plumeria and tropical breeze, the song and raucous cries of mynah birds. Black earth, white coral, both scorched by the sun, but gently ... gently.

Wednesday morning I woke up and stared out at the view from my room lanai ... the mountains in the distance, the palm trees--somehow more fragile there than in California--waving against a bluing sky.

A little later, I ate breakfast--how I miss the papaya!--and attended the awards brunch, loving Lee Goldberg's humor and Rhys Bowen's wonderful version of "I'm Evil" (she's also a fabulous singer!) and Barry Eisler's story about taking a long, hard fall in Japan. And jumped up with everyone, cheering on Bill and Toby Gottfried to a so well-deserved standing ovation. Then my world erupted into a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and absolute wonderment.

I was, and am, immensely honored at my nomination, and so proud to be listed among writers whom I admire so much as artists and people and friends. I can't really remember anything except the kaleidoscope and somehow making it to the stairway of the podium (thanks to the kind souls in the audience who were shouting "Go around, Kelli!") ... and wondering how I'd keep from either crying or imitating Sally Field or just freezing. I don't remember what I said -- it was a moment when words fail wordsmiths.

All in all, it felt a little like some kind of wonderful, spectacular concussion ... and it was a moment I'll treasure the rest of my life. Thank you, LCC and the amazing, incredible mystery community--and thank you, Hawaii. :)

I managed to get home on the red eye, red-eyed, no sleep. Slept a bit on Thursday, a little more on Friday, and then it was off to Sacramento and Authors on the Move, a formal gourmet dinner fundraiser for the Sacramento Public Libraries. Great fun, getting to drink Buena Vista pinot noir, meeting lots of other authors from all genres, and talking to three different tables of patrons about books and writing. Borders handled the book sales, a percentage of which went to the library, along with the profits from the live auction ... all in all, a spectacularly fun and exciting event in California's capital.

My luck held on the way back ... after a drive of more than 90 miles, our front tire went flat as we pulled into a Trader Joe's parking space. So it was an emergency visit to Sears Auto Center (Sears is a kind of family tradition), the only one open on a Sunday. We made it home, bedraggled, with my mom (who attended the Sacramento event), and dog in the back seat. And a lot of not-so-fresh produce from the Valley. You should see the size of the oranges!

And now back to work and focus ... though at the moment, I'm enjoying the blur. :)

Mahalo ... and aloha!

LCC Hawaii Top Ten

It seems as if I've just arrived, just adjusted myself to a warm, slower and less hectic environment, and now--Wednesday--I go back to my beloved San Francisco and embrace the cold and the stress and the bustle all over again.

I'm not complaining--Noir City is my physical and spiritual home--but let's just say I understand the allure and hospitality of the Big Island--and I plan to return with my family for a vacation.

It's been a wonderful, wonderful conference--and I thought I'd share my top ten reasons why Hawaii makes for a really special LCC conference destination ...

1. It's warm, but not too warm. Yesterday the sun fully embraced us, and it was magnificent. The humidity isn't overbearing, the sunshine gentle, and the mountains in the distance still have snow.

2. Relaxation. I'm not actually sure if I've ever relaxed at a conference before this one ... at least without alcoholic help ... and a constant state of motion and excitement is its own fun (Thrillerfest in New York, for example). But it's wonderful to be able to relax without falling asleep!

3. Nature. Conferences tend to be held in urban centers, from New York to Chicago to San Francisco. The only kind of wild kingdom we usually get to see is the kind we write about in crime novels. To catch a glimpse of a mongoose in a parking lot--fish slipping between rocks and darting out of holes in ancient fish ponds--multi-colored birds flitting from fronds or to wake up to the myna birds outside your lanai--you instantly feel more connected to the Earth. And that's a good thing. You may even see wild goats and donkeys on the road between Kona and Waikoloa ... instead of the familiar deer silouette on the highway warning sign, you'll notice longer ears and shorter legs.

4. Culture. It doesn't take long--maybe two minutes?--to immediately feel the unique and special cultural heritage of Hawaii, and its genuine, welcoming spirit.

5. Waikoloa Marriott. A fabulous, open resort hotel, with a good restaurant and beautiful grounds.

6. Fresh papaya and passion fruit juice. Where else can you get served exotic fruit for your continental breakfast? Where else can you where fragrant flowers around your neck?

7. Diversity. In culture, nature, and things to do ... you can venture up a volcano, go horseback riding on a ranch, bird watch, take a sub tour, and get up close and personal with whales.

8. Luaus. On Sunday night we saw dancers, fire throwers/eaters, drummers, and enjoyed a veritable feast. If it's not in Hawaii, it's not a luau--it's just Grease II.

9. Cocktails. All those fruity drinks with the paper umbrellas actually belong here. I enjoyed a Blue Hawaii last night in honor of Elvis.

10. When you wake up, you're in Hawaii! And that's enough.

I'll blog tomorrow after I recover from the red-eye and share a wrap-up of my final day today ... but right now, I'm going out on the lanai and listen to the myna birds.

The Aloha Spirit ... Left Coast Crime

So it's my first time in Hawaii, the conference is fabulous, and now that my cognitive abilities are reasonably restored (though never reasonable), some of my impressions ...

I arrived Sunday morning, amazed to land on the tarmac (yay for tarmacs!) rather than one of those long airport tubes. It was raining, a mystical, tropical warmth of big drops falling with a gentle touch on the black, rugged land all around the tiny airport.

The airport itself consists of small brown wooden buildings with open air exposure, dark brown, more like what I'd imagine as tasteful amusement park architecture, if that's not an oxymoron.

I bought a lei of plumeria and orchids (amazing fragrance) at the airport ... and yeah, I've heard the joke about sixteen times now, so quit sniggering.

Volcanic mountains rise up in the distance ... to the south, the island is green and lush. To the north, black sharp rocks--a more than century-old lava flow--drape the land, creating a disconcerting contrast to the pre-formed ideas of paradise. But then -- the aloha spirit. On the way to the Waikoloa Marriott -- a mostly new complex of hotel, garden, pool, beach, palm trees and shopping malls called the King Shops and the Queen's Marketplace--you see words spelled out in white shell against the sombre lava-black. Words that pay tribute, words that honor and remember, words that testify to love, whether it's Angie plus Daniel or in memory of someone lost.

No "graffitti". That wouldn't honor the land. That wouldn't honor the people. And that wouldn't, from my limited experience, seem to be Hawaiian.

People are friendly here, aloha and mahalo not just words in a tourist booklet or left on a recording when you're on phone hold. I've learned that Hawaii is a beautiful place with an ugly epidemic: crystal meth, called ice on the island. There's also an older crisis, the disparity of wealth between the land-owners and the poor, a demarkation of inequity that stretches back to the plantation era.

Hawaii is a land of contrast. Like aloha written in shells on the black, sharp rock.

I want to learn more about it ... and will.

And in the meantime, the conference is amazing. Louise Ure and Gillian Roberts and Bill and Toby Gottfried and Janet Rudolph, and all the dedicated volunteers have done an incredible job ... fascinating panels, exploratory side trips, movies, even a Sunday night luau.

Yesterday morning we enjoyed a spectacular debut author's breakfast sponsored by Mystery Scene ... followed by two debut panels. People are talking, sharing, drinking mai tais, admiring the flora and fauna (I saw a mongoose!) ... and relaxing. The rain has stopped.

And underneath it all, the aloha spirit ... a specific and special evocation of the generosity and humanity that always defines the mystery writing community. Hawaii and Left Coast Crime belong together. I'm so glad I'm here.

Aloha!

The Unconventional Convention!

I'm on my way to Hawaii tomorrow--first time there. This year's Left Coast Crime is the "unconventional convention" and it promises to be a slap-bang load of fun and frolic and originality ... and with events like movie nights and a theatrical production and a dessert spectacular, it truly is unconventional.

While I'm flying tomorrow--in between writing deadlines--I'll be thinking about the journey that brought me to Kona. NOX was nominated for the Bruce Alexander Memorial Historical Mystery Award, and what an amazing, incredible honor to be listed with fabulous writers I admire so much: Rhys Bowen, Laurie R. King and Tasha Alexander. And I'll be thinking about my family and friends, and how they teamed up to figure out the economics of getting me to the Big Island. And I'll be thinking about the writing community, and what a wonderful, generous and supportive group it is, and how privileged I am to be a part of it.

I'll be thinking about noir, too--I'll be giving a talk about film noir for one of the "Talk Stories" at LCC, fifteen minutes of author freedom. And I'll be researching and writing, too.

Above all, I'll be giving thanks. No, it's not November ... and yes, I'm a noir writer. But writing about noir also means being able to appreciate what we have and how lucky we are to have it.

I'm also thankful that I wasn't a writer when Dorothy Parker was a reviewer ... I came across this quote the other day: "This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force." I don't know the book she was describing--and that's exactly the point. ;)

Aloha!

Before Noir City starts tomorrow and I immerse myself in amour fou, sweaty obsession and rain-darkened streets, I have to indulge in something on the opposite end of the spectrum ... purely joyful and purely heart-warming.

So what am I talking about ... a Capra movie? The end of The Christmas Carol? An episode of The Waltons?

Thankfully--at least regarding The Waltons--no. I'm talking about the amazing generosity and support that exists in the crime writing community. It's not the first time I've encountered it, but for the last two days I've been privileged to be dramatically reminded of it.

Here's the story: my first book--NOX DORMIENDA--was nominated for the Bruce Alexander Memorial Mystery Award. And it's in the company of writers I deeply admire and friends I deeply care about--Rhys Bowen, Tasha Alexander, Laurie King. I am stunned, honored and humbled.

Since the announcement yesterday, I've spent a lot of time responding with thanks to the well-wishes and voices of encouragement and support that have poured in ... and again, I shake my head in wonder at the sheer niceness of this industry. At talks, the audience always laughs whenever I mention that crime writers are the most wonderful--and just plain nicest-- people in the world. But it's true. Criminal minds, warm hearts. :)

To top off all this, the generosity of friends and family is what is allowing me to say "aloha" to Hawaii ... to actually go to Left Coast Crime, which just two weeks ago was beyond my reach.

I've started to do my research, and just discovered "aloha" also means love.

Somehow, that's fitting.

Left Coast Crime: Sunshine and Snowflurries

It's hard to believe that this time last week was the final day for that most winsome and winning of conferences, Left Coast Crime. What a whirlwind!

Luckily, Writing in the Dark (this blog, doncha know) had special guest and fabulous historical noir writer, Becky Cantrell, to keep the fires burning. We could've used a hearth or two in Denver, where the snow flurries drifted and spun down the eerily quiet 16th Street pedestrian mall, settling into small snow drifts, as powdery as your grandmother's compact.

I had a lot of fun at LCC, and over the next few days, I'm going to post some pictures to prove it. There were too many highlights to unwrap them all in one blog, even though I tried to hit a few high notes when I guested over at the ever cool Crime Always Pays blog of friend and top writer Declan Burke (also known as the Irish Elmore Leonard--his books are amazing!).

I met a lot of new friends, people I'd only met virtually ... like Robert Gregory Browne, an amazing writer from the Killer Year class who is an utterly wonderful guy to hang around with. J.T. Ellison, another KY alum, whom I felt like I'd known forever. Jeri Westerson (the creator of Medieval Noir with her Crispin Guest series, coming this fall) and I met in the signing room and talked about hard-boiled history and teaming up for a panel.

I met the wonderful Jeanne Stein over dinner, Margie Lawson, the amazing editor and writing coach. The delightful Toni McGee Causey. Tireless volunteer and the Birdwatcher's Mystery Series creator Christine Goff. And the list goes on, because the writing community really is a special one, filled with generous, fascinating and talented people, and even though I tried, I didn't get to share a drink with them all.

I hung around with panel mates and author friends from Northern California, like Cornelia Read (don't miss out on Crazy School!). I got to see out of state friends like Lost Dog author, Rocky nominee and KY member Bill Cameron (he who christened The Big Noo The Big Noo) ... Laura Benedict, the author of the fantastic Isabella Moon, and ITW Debut Program leader CJ Lyons, who launched her first novel Lifelines at LCC, a gripping medical thriller that is just one hell of a good book.

In other words, I was surrounded by amazing talent. And friends. And wonderful, wonderful readers, librarians, booksellers, publishers. In short, it was nirvana. In short, a hell of a conference.

Sunshine in the day; snow flurries at night; and a whirlwind of excitement, conversation, clinking glasses, scintillating panels, costume contests, and nonstop, crazy fun. Left Coast Crime. I can't wait til I can do it all over again in 2009 (albeit with no snow flurries).

Next up: more photos from LCC and news about a newly discovered Noel Coward play and Czar of Noir Eddie Muller! And hey--if you were there, or have ever been to a conference or ever thought about going to a conference--leave a comment! :)

Questions to Ponder ...

A short post this week, because we're in a whirlwind of activity getting ready for Left Coast Crime in Denver ...

There's promotional stuff to pack, clothes (and shoes and hats) to choose ... I sometimes wish (always when I'm packing) that I was one of those people who can throw any old wearable into an overnight bag and somehow emerge at a destination, refreshed and coiffed, and somehow make a stained sweatshirt look good.

Wait ... there really aren't people like that, are there? Stained sweatshirts never look good outside of an action movie.

Anyway, point is I have to give thought to what to pack, and thought (and packing) takes time ... and time is always in short supply. Tempus fugit, as Virgil pointed out (we owe so much to that man, and he still gets the short end of the stick compared to Homer. But at least he didn't have to suffer the ignominy of Brad Pitt playing his protagonist). But I digress ...

So before I leave you with a question to ponder for the week, until guest blogger and fantastic noir writer Rebecca Cantrell checks in, I wanted to tell you why Helen Mirren doesn't have to worry.

I watched E:GA in Seattle, and it's not that Cate Blanchett isn't one of the best actresses working today. It's that Elizabeth: the Golden Age was a ninety-odd minute film, not well directed (enough with the spinning, apotheosized Virgin Queen, for God's sake!) and tried to fit a mini-series worth of content and character into one movie. In other words, like a lot of films, style was more important than substance and content. (Clive Owen swinging on a rope? Did we really need this? And I'm even a fan!)

And when, oh when, will anyone ever get the "I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a King" speech right? They stuck Glenda Jackson on a podium in the '70s; they had Helen picking up dirt balls and laughing with her troops as the Armada sailed (the only "huh?" moment in that series). Here, they don't use the the lines at all, though they at least put E. on a horse.

Well, enough of my grumbling. Lord, what fools these directors be.

So here's your question to ponder: why is Paul Giamatti playing John Adams?

Look at the movie poster. And think about it.

Until next time, when I'm back from the Mile-High Thrill of Left Coast Crime, and posting about exciting new theater news in San Francisco!!

Wherever You Hang Your Hat

Whew! It's been quite a week. I'd intended to post a Valentine wish ... but I was stuck without a computer in Seattle. Computerless in Seattle ... where's Nora Ephron when you need her?!

I've been swamped since my return, getting ready for Operation Read My Book. Y'see, my ARCS (that's short for Advanced Reading Copies) will be here by Friday, and I've got to get them out to reviewers, bookstores, media and libraries. And readers -- I'll be giving some away on Dorothy-L and a few other lists, so look for the notice.

All this sudden injection of reality hit me like a wet fish upside my head. And speaking of fish, I felt a bit like a salmon when in Seattle, since I was born in Tacoma, and hadn't been back in mrruhs (hand over the mouth) years, since I was seven. So I returned to the Pacific Northwest, and saw Mt. Ranier again, and it felt like home.

It was wonderful to have early childhood memories flood back, and I received a great welcome from three Seattle legends: the Space Needle, Byrnie Utz Hats and the Seattle Mystery Bookshop.

The Space Needle was always my favorite building as a kid. I mean, Astro lived there! (I never cared much for the Jetsons--I preferred the Flintstones, go figure--but I did love Astro). That soaring architecture of hope, circa 1962, complete with working monorail ... well, there's nothing like it anywhere. It's from an era when people still remembered what it was like to have beauty in their environment--architectural beauty.

Not just glass boxes. Not just fake Santa Fe shopping malls. Not a Starbucks on every corner. Not the ubiquitous "mixed use retail" environment that is slowly destroying the individuality of every American city.

OK, I'm bitter in my nostalgia, but really ... cities need to preserve their architectural history. Thank God Seattle has its Space Needle ... and the Valentine's Day menu at the Sky City Restaurant was jaw-droppingly terrific. I'd write about it, but I don't want to make you too hungry.

On 310 Union Street in downtown Seattle (between 4th and 3rd Avenue), not too far from the Space Needle, is another tribute to beauty ... the beauty of hats and how to sell them. Byrnie Utz Hats was established in 1934, and not much has changed about the store since then except the stock. No website, alas, but they do mail order. Pay 'em a visit.

Glass and wood cases line the walls, a hat steamer and applicator for marking your hat band with gold-leaf initials rest on large wooden counters that have seen their share of coffee and cigars.

And the hats ... well, you can tell from my photo that I'm a hat person. I collect fedoras, and rejoice in wearing them. And at Byrnie's, I found two exquisite wide brim Dodds with low crowns. Glorious, luxurious hats that felt like they, too, stepped out of a 1937 time machine.

I'll be wearing them to Left Coast Crime and other conferences and signings this year ... they are my debut fedoras. Thank you, Byrnie Utz!

(By the way, the fedora in my author photo is a vintage Paramount from the 1940s, complete with thin satin ribbon on the brim. I don't travel with it, or my other vintage hats -- they're too delicate).

After partaking of a delicious latte at the Tully's flagship store around the corner from Byrnie's (I don't do the other place), I visited another wonderful business in the city ... one near and dear to my heart as reader and writer. The Seattle Mystery Bookshop, on 117 Cherry Street near Pioneer Square, is one of the best specialty shops I've seen -- a must-visit if you like mystery, thrillers and crime ... and who doesn't?

With a staff of the nicest people in Seattle, including JB, the owner, and Fran, Book Keeper extraordinaire, you'll find yourself whiling away the hours and discovering new gems. My timing was great on Saturday, because I got a chance to visit with my Killer Year pal Bill Cameron, author of the Rocky-nominated gem Lost Dog, and meet the wonderful Gregg Olsen. If you're going to Seattle, this store is as much of a necessity as looking up at the Space Needle!

Next time: more noir (film and literary), a review of Elizabeth: The Golden Age and why Helen Mirren needn't worry, and more observation on the road to Left Coast Crime in March, when Writing in the Dark will be featuring its first ever guest blogger!

Until then, may your coffee be hot and your noir be ice cold ...