Saturday, January 26, 2008


When we woke up, the sun was shining through the blinds. We haven't seen it in a week and tonight's storm is supposed to be the worst yet.

We're tired of it. The horses are angry. The snow level rose the other night, transforming the paddock into a wide river of mud flowing down toward the lake.

I knew we would have a winter like this. I could tell by the color of the trees in November. Something like 8 more weeks to go, too. It will be a good spring for the fruit trees.

About a week ago, my incredible agent sold the audio rights to Ghost Medicine to Random House/Listening Library. They already have me on the Random House website, offering Ghost Medicine for pre-order, to be released September 9. The best part about it is that it's an unabridged audio version. I am very happy with that, because I know that sometimes audio books have to be shortened, and Ghost Medicine is fairly long. But I just can't possibly see what you could cut out of it and still tell the story. So, thanks, Random House.

Now... about that bio they have on me. Oh well, it's not like this is the first time I've had an identity crisis, and I'd just as soon not put anything about myself on the book, other than my name as the author. 'Cause it's not about me, anyway.

Give me a reply if you'd like me to post the link to Random House/Listening Library's Ghost Medicine page, otherwise, I'm okay with how things are.

It's starting to get cloudy. I think I'll go out and see the sun before it's gone.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

nicer now


Someone's looking.

Nicer now.

Have you ever had a run-in with an out-of-control cop? I have. More than once. I seem to attract them. It happens to the main character in Ghost Medicine, too. The thing is, I can't even remember the last time I got a traffic ticket. I think it was about 20 years ago, but I'm not really sure. But, jeez! I sure seem to rub cops the wrong way sometimes.

The scary thing is that they're allowed to carry guns and big flashlights (I don't even own a flashlight, remember?), and seem so well-versed in making hauntingly nonspecific threats to individuals they disagree with. Some of them even subtly threaten noninvolved family members, too. The State must offer some type of training these days at the law enforcement academies on "Hauntingly Nonspecific Threat Delivery." It's kind of like a verbal taser, I guess.

"You do not want to make an adversary of me."

Honestly... who talks like that??? I swear, this is an exact quote. If I just saw this written down in some Cop Thriller story I would laugh... but I heard it with my own ears. It's as funny to me as hearing someone actually use the word "perhaps" in conversation. But I digress in italicization too long...

"I will mess up your life. Your kids will NOT be happy with it."

Hey... it works.

"I will comply with your irrational and out-of-control decrees, officer, as I do not at this time wish my ten-year-old daughter to be fatherless."

Cost effective compliance mechanism. And not the product of sweatshop labor. Contains no lead.

I notice that all the manufacturers of taser guns I could find are over there in the land of the high-lead-content-sweatshop. It's not like I'm a taser freak or anything. I just woke up this morning and the first thing that popped into my head was: I wonder who works in a taser gun factory?

This is what happens to me when I get more than 10 hours of sleep. That's probably more sleep than some cops get in a week.

I will continue on this thought, and why I decided to just sleep -- and nothing else -- for the last twelve hours.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

rutting season for trampolines

My kids have a trampoline. Or, I should say, had one.

I was in San Francisco with the wife and kids for a few days doing some research for an upcoming book, and, while we were away, a particularly fierce storm hit our little town up in the mountains. From what I was told, before the snows came we had wind gusts of about 70 mph. Well, the gales lifted the kids' trampoline and it flew hundreds of feet through the air and landed squarely down on top of a neighbor's new Mitsubishi Eclipse (a car I am not particularly attracted to, which, nevertheless, emits some kind of rage-inducing pheromones that lure avian trampolines).

What did neighbor-man do? Well, first, he tried to obtain my cell phone number from the lady who had been coming around to feed the horses. But she is one tough horse-sitter and refused to have that information extracted. And, apparently, neighbor-dude had seen the same admonitory Jeff Corwin documentary concerning the dangers of disengaging a copulating trampoline as I had (I think I was drinking whiskey at the time), so he left it on top of the ugly little car until I flew back home. Three days later. He said he wanted to leave it there because he didn't think I'd believe it actually happened.

Belief. That's a funny concept. I believe my insurance company will take care of this. But, then again, I believe in Santa Claus and I believe that in a few months a litter of tiny little convertible-topped hybrids will come gushing from that Mitsubishi's catalytic converter with their little sad headlights turned skyward, asking, "Mommy... where's Daddy?"

My wife and I went out in the snow that night and removed the spent and satisfied trampoline from that tramping trollop of a car.