Man Plans; the Universe Chortles

Whenever I start feeling a little too full of myself, the universe has a way of yanking me back to earth. Oh, I don't know, say you sold a few books, got a couple of nice reviews, managed to snag an interview on the TODAY show (!) You'd be puffing up just a tiny bit with pride, no?

Well, yes. At least until reality smacks you upside the head. Case in point: I was thrilled last month to be invited to BookMania in Stuart, Fla. Pretty prestigious event, New York Times bestselling authors, famous memoirists, kick-ass suspense novelists. And me, the newbie.

My sister Charlene convinced me to climb out of my usual grays and browns and blacks and khakis, and really dress. ''You're an author now! People expect you to have a little flair.''

So she loaned me a fancy red shawl and shiny red earrings. She added some oomph to my makeup. I have to say, I was looking pretty fine. There I was at the authors' cocktail reception, sipping my soda water. She coerced me into heels, too, which definitely don't mix with alcohol. I was certain I was exuding an authorly air, when an older man came up to me.

"I loved your book,'' he said, big smile on his face.

Ah, this is what it's all about. This is how an author feels, I thought. I smiled warmly, ready to dazzle him with my literary bon mots. (Yes, I know I've written a redneck romp set in middle Florida, but I can fake it, oui?)

And then he took both my hands, clasped them, and stared deep into my eyes: "Hallie Ephron, I have waited so long to meet you!''

Crash.

"Uhmmm,'' I said as nicely as I could, "I'm not Hallie Ephron. She's standing over there with that crowd of people around her. She's the other woman in a shawl.''

He hesitated a moment, looked from me to her and back again. "Oh,'' he finally said, not at all embarrassed. "Then do you think you could introduce me?''

Double-crash.




So, the picture above is my sister and me at BookMania. Hallie Ephron, of the famous literary family, is not the woman on the left.

How about you? Who's the most famous person you've been mistaken for?

Pantless in Palm Beach County

Pantless, I balanced on one leg in the gas station stall. I prayed my undies wouldn't drop into a puddle I hoped was only sloshed water from a filthy mop bucket in the corner. My blouse hung perilously from a hook missing a screw on the back of the door. A rusty faucet dripped, dripped, dripped into a sink with all the porcelain scrubbed off.

A tale of a sordid encounter from my dating days?

No, just a glimpse into the glamorous life of an author on the road.

I've only been doing this a few months, but already I've learned to keep a straight face when someone asks, "So, are they sending you anywhere exciting on your book tour?''

First of all, ''they'' is me. And while I'm grateful for any chance to talk about Mama Does Time, so far my ''tour'' has been less red carpet and luxury hotels, and more arriving in my pickup truck and crashing on the sofa beds of friends.

The gas station served as makeshift changing room as I sped from a book fest in Stuart, Fla., to speak to a book group a couple of hours south. My truck's cab was packed to the roof with clothes, books, and emergency rations. A bag of honeybell oranges I'd picked up at a flea market on the Dixie Highway spilled onto the passenger seat. I looked like the Joads heading west in Grapes of Wrath.

Still, once I'd made myself presentable, it was great to be welcomed into the Coral Springs home of Kerry Cerra. She combined two book clubs, twisted arms to get them to read Mama, and invited me by for a chat. Not only were the members funny and smart, Kerry dished up Mama's favorites, fried chicken and pie. (Coincidentally, the author's faves, too!) And, I got to drink beer while addressing a gathering of 20-some readers eager to talk about Mama.

Good food, fun gals, and beer? Okay, not glamorous, maybe. But definitely a glimpse into the great life of an author.

How about you? What's the weirdest place you've dressed? Ever tried to pull on pantyhose while driving? (Guys, if you answer yes to that one, not sure I want to hear about it).

Cover Artist Home Runs Again!

Check out the great cover Midnight Ink and illustrator Mark Gerber came up with for the second book in my funny, Florida set series, the Mace Bauer Mysteries.

This one's called Mama Rides Shotgun. I was fearful of the sophomore slump, in which the art department couldn't top the excellent job they did on Book I, Mama Does Time.

But, YAY! Freshman Success met and surpassed.

I hope this terrific cover brings lots of new readers to Mace, her two sisters, and the Mama who drives them all crazy. In Number 2, the gals hit the Florida Cracker Trail horseback ride for some bonding time before Mama's upcoming nuptials. (She's tying the sacred knot of matrimony for the fifth time).

All goes well until Lawton Bramble, the wealthy rancher hosting the riders, turns up dead in his Cowboy Chili. A former beau of Mama's (and, frankly, who isn't?), Lawton had a bad ticker. But he also had a ton of enemies, and Mace suspects one of them might have added more than spices to Lawton's chili.

There Goes the Neighborhood

I'm jazzed that Mystery Scene magazine ran my essay about why I created a fictional town as the setting for my Mace Bauer Mystery series. Just got the issue (Holiday Issue, # 107), and it looks terrific.

Here's a snippet:

As soon as I saw the hand-lettered sign propped outside a remote country store, I knew it was a bad omen for Okeechobee, and for my new book, Mama Does Time, set in down-home Florida.

I circled back in my pickup truck. Nope, I hadn't read it wrong:

Boiled P'nuts/Cappuccino.

Cappuccino?

In a spot where cowboy is used as a verb, where barbecue is a religion, and where the local high school mascot is a 1,500-pound Brahma bull named Bubba?

There goes the neighborhood . . .

And here's a picture of me, writing along the Kissimmee River near Okeechobee, which is the real-life counterpart to my made-up town of Himmarshee.

Libby Lou Tackles Mama

Check out the platinum-haired vision, page right, outshining my husband Kerry and me. That's Libby Lou Lumpkins, up to visit from Himmarshee, Fla. She's the shampoo gal at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow beauty salon, and a fine emissary for the Chamber of Commerce. Libby is also a close pal of Rosalee Deveraux, "Mama'' in my books, and not shy at all about revealing the real story behind Rosalee's little brush with the law in Mama Does Time.

I am blessed with truly creative friends. In Orlando recently to sell a few books, when our incredible hosts, Dan Beckmann and Sue Stauffer, graciously threw a dinner party. "A Night with The Author,'' they billed it ("There'll be food, too, right?'' I'm sure their friends asked them).

Anyway, the party proceeded beyond my greatest expectations: Mama-themed, Southern comfort food (which also happens to be the food Mama's creator loves, too. Imagine that!), good wine (even though Mama drinks the sweet pink stuff, Sue and Dan wisely followed their own palates on this one), and great, great company. And then, along with the peach cobbler, the coup de theatre: Libby Lou rang the doorbell.

She was truly amazing: word games based on the book, clever asides, character knowledge that nearly stumped the author (who had consumed a couple of glasses of wine by this point, but still). What a thrill to hear my words come out of Libby Lou's mouth, and to hear them get belly laughs from the dinner guests. Of course, credit for that goes largely to the incredible Libby Lou, who would not break character to reveal her real name.

All I know is she goes to Sue's church in Orlando, and she has a talent as big as her hair. Libby Lou, honey, this one's for you!