Long Time, No Cyber-See

What kind of a shameless, self-promoting author am I?

Not a very good one, apparently. It's been months since I've gotten around to updating my blog. In my defense, I HAVE been writing. I'm about halfway through my fourth Mace Bauer Mystery, MAMA SEES STARS. Woo-hoo!

But the big news tonight ... the reason I felt compelled to post ... is that the galleys are ready on No. 3, MAMA GETS HITCHED. It's up and available for pre-ordering with a simple click at Amazon or my publisher, Midnight Ink (Ah, yes ... there's that blatant self-promotion coming out: BSP, for short.)

The cover's another winner. I've been so lucky: Incredible designs for each of my three titles. They just keep getting better. Take a look at the cover, pictured above, and tell me what you think. (Nice touch: My name on the whiskey bottle!)

So forgive me a bit of BSP this evening. I'm a bit like ''Mama,'' who is convinced it's not at all tacky for her fifth trip down the aisle to have a Gone With the Wind-themed wedding -- complete with parasols and Southern belle gowns for her bridesmaid-daughters, and satin top hat for the Pomeranian bearing the rings. Like Mama and her nuptials, I've deluded myself into thinking it's not at all tacky to be out here in cyberspace, blowing my BSP horn.

Watch out Bouchercon! Here I Come ....

I'm as nervous as a high school girl before the big prom. I'm going to Indianapolis this week for Bouchercon, a huge conference for all things mystery.

How's my dress? Will I get a corsage? Please, please tell me this little bump on my nose is not turning into a pimple!

I'll be among 400 or so other authors and more than 1,000 fans in attendance. I'm sure I'll feel lost in the masses, a nameless face in a bustling crowd. If I believed in the power of positive thinking or those self-affirming exercises, I'd be standing in front of the mirror right now repeating these words: ''You're a wonderful author. You'll be discovered. People will form long lines for the chance to buy your books.''

(OK, I actually DID say those words this morning ... just hedging my bets)

I got a slot on a panel, so that's the good news. 1:30 pm on Thursday, Southern Voices, with my friend and fellow author Vicki Lane, and the wonderful, funny Cathy Pickens moderating. The bad news: We're on against a program by the head guy for author relations with Amazon.com. So I know where all my writer friends are going to be, especially if Mr. Amazon is giving anything away. (And it's not sitting and listening to us drawl, y'all).

I'm looking on the bright side, though: Bouchercon gives me the chance to connect with people I might not have met otherwise. Indianapolis will be a nice break from the never-ending summer swelter of south Florida (It's October, for crying out loud. Can we get some relief from temps in the 90s and 2,000-percent humidity?) And, since there won't be a prom date with a powder blue tuxedo and a low tolerance for alcohol, I won't wind up with throw-up on my dress.

Unless I get REALLY nervous, that is.

My Happy Place

Who needs the New York Times? Publishers Weekly can go pound sand. And Oprah? Who'd want to sit on that stinkin' couch of yours anyway?

I have something even better than anointment from that Holy Trinity of book arbiters: A Happy Folder.

Recently, I had one of those days when I couldn't write a thing that didn't suck. When I pouted that PW hasn't reviewed my books, even though they've sprinkled their stars upon some of my fellow Midnight Ink authors. When I pondered hanging up fiction and returning to journalism.

Then I remembered that newspapers are sounding a death rattle, that nobody's hiring, and that friends and former colleagues in the media are losing jobs right and left.

In other words, not a happy day.

Until I got an email from a reader, telling me she loved my book. I thought back to why I left the news biz. I wanted to make people laugh, to bring some levity to a post-9/11 world that felt sad and deadly serious. And here was somebody writing to tell me I'd managed to do just that.

That's when I got the idea of sifting through my emails to create a feel-good folder. I'd fill it only with nice notes from readers. Here's one, from a woman in Birmingham, Ala:

My doctor had been concerned about my rising blood pressure, from stress of constant terrible news on TV. Your book was the perfect antidote: I laughed, felt like I actually knew your very real characters, and was so thoroughly relaxed that my blood pressure went down!

Here's another, from a reader who discovered the Large Print editions of my Mace Bauer Mystery series:

I get migraines from eye strain. It has been a long time since reading was fun for me until your books.


And another one, from a woman who said she's eagerly awaiting Book 3:

I couldn't wait to write and tell you how much I loved your book... funny, clever, LOL, great read ...

After paging through my Happy Folder, the day didn't seem so depressing after all.

PS to Oprah, if you're reading this. I didn't mean it about your couch.

A Fresh-Picked Bouquet for Mama

My mama used to say, ''Never toot your own horn, honey. It's tacky!''

But I can't resist just a tiny bit of horn-tooting today. Fresh Fiction, a fun website devoted to bookish pursuits, named my second mystery, MAMA RIDES SHOTGUN, as a Fresh Pick.

Here's the link, if you'd like to check it out:

http://freshfiction.com/book.php?id=33260

I'm particularly pleased because SHOTGUN was a pick of the day during the same week the almighty Charlaine Harris was honored for Poppy Done to Death, and my good friend Peggy Webb was noted for her latest funny mystery, Elvis and the Grateful Dead. (Elvis is a basset hound who believes he's the King reincarnated ... and I thought the Mama character from my mystery series was wacky!)

Hear that musical sound in the background? That's me, tooting my horn like Louis Armstrong. What a Wonderful World!

Punchdrunk at SIBA

I'm certain high-minded literature was being discussed somewhere during the annual trade show of the Southern Independent Booksellers Association (SIBA).

But it wasn't at Booth W-42, where I was stretched out on the floor inside a mock chalk outline, drumming up business for myself and my fellow Sisters in Crime, authors of murder mysteries.

That would be me, left (photo by Ellis Vidler), displaying an appalling lack of shame when it comes to book promotion. Really, would Flannery O'Connor ever have stooped ... er, reclined ... to such a stunt?

Of course, it was the last day of the trade show, which took place this year in Greenville, S.C., Sept. 24-27. I might have been a bit punchdrunk by then. Acting all erudite takes a toll.

Did I mention the clear liquid in the jar in my hand was moonshine? At least that's what Jerry Alexander, looking on in the picture, said it was. And he should know, since he wrote Where Have All Our Moonshiners Gone? A former newspaper publisher and deceptively sophisticated-looking gent, Jerry manned the booth next door to Sisters in Crime. Along with his books, his display's central feature was a moonshine still. That, and a chicken feeder that dispensed Hershey's Kisses.

I loved the trade show. My Southern-fried books fit right in. I'm pleased to say I introduced the latest, Mama Rides Shotgun, to lots of booksellers who might not have otherwise known about the Mace Bauer Mystery Series.

My titles earned a few laughs (Mama Does Time was the first in 2008; Mama Gets Hitched comes out next year). That's saying something in this crowd, considering some of the other books being touted to the Southern bookstore owners over the weekend:

Will Jesus Buy me a Double-Wide? 'Cause I Need More Room for My Plasma TV, by Karen Zacharias.
Suck Your Stomach In and Put Some Color On, by Shellie Tomlinson.
Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen, by Susan Gregg Gilmore.

People say you can't judge a book by its cover, and maybe not by its title, either. But just try to pass by any of those titles in a bookstore without at least pulling it from the shelf.

Of course, there were plenty of serious literary offerings as well. But I was too busy lying on the floor and trying to wrest chocolate kisses from Jerry's chicken feeder to report on any of those.

Maybe next time. The SIBA trade show in 2010 will be in Daytona Beach. Just don't count on a high-minded analysis from me if they hold it the same week as the Daytona Speedway hosts NASCAR.