Book Clubs, Wild Rabbits and Things That Go Bump in the Night

I’ve been crazy busy for the last few weeks and anticipate more of the same in the near future. You know the kind of busy I’m talking about, too: the kind where something’s gotta give. And what’s been giving -- mostly -- is this blog. That is, I always have stuff to say, just no time to say it. As a result, I’m sitting on a bunch of stuff only appropriately shared in this space. You’ll have to wait for it, though. Rabbit madness, for instance. A long story, but one that I will tell. Eventually.

What else? I’ve done a disproportionate number of book club visits in the last few weeks. I don’t know why that should be, as I’m fairly confident it’s not book club “season” which I imagine would be in the fall. And I shouldn’t bother asking for the why because, the fact is, I really enjoy book club appearances, both in person and via speakerphone. I think most authors do. It’s easy and it’s fun. If it’s in person, you mostly are given wine and cheese or other enjoyable refreshments. On speakerphone, you get to hear them having wine and cheese and fun, which is not quite the same. Still. It’s almost as good.

It’s easy because everyone concerned wants to talk about something you don’t have to cram for, your books and your writing and other tidbits about a subject you know well: you. I never have to study a bit.

Actually, that isn’t true. Even if the club has been reading your most recent book, that’s still at least a book ago. For example, three of the book clubs I spoke with had been reading Death Was the Other Woman. Not only have I finished the book that comes after that -- Death Was in the Picture -- and that will be published this coming January, I’m currently poking away at the book that will come after that one. (Currently known as Death Was in the Working Title.)

So before I begin, I generally spend a little time poking through the book and reminding myself of some of the details. Otherwise I’m faced with too many questions I can’t answer, simply because I can’t remember. And one of the book club visits was around Mad Money, which was published in 2004 and mostly written in 2002. I mean, I remember, of course. But not the nuances. Especially the nuances of what was in my heart as I wrote. That comes back, though. When I read it, all those memories just come flooding back: what I was feeling, what I was eating and thinking, where my head was at as I wrote. What made my cry or laugh or shake my head and say, “Where the hell did that come from?” So it’s pretty fun to revisit stuff I haven’t read in a while and feel those things again.

So, anyway: I like the book club visits a lot. In fact, there’s a Death Was the Other Woman reading group guide here. If you’d like to set up a time for me to visit with your club, you can e-mail my assistant, Dana, and she’ll set things up.

The other thing that’s been keeping me super busy is something I can’t talk about at all (which is possibly another reason I haven’t blogged about it). I can tell you that it’s a top secret television writing project that has no connection with any of my published novels. But, see: that’s not really a lot of information. I do promise, though, that I’ll tell you more when I can and that I’m having a great deal of fun exploring what is, for me, an entirely new branch of writing and storytelling.

And I’ll try to tell you about the rabbits soon. I promise.