BNWT#7 Advice from Robert Crais

[Jack Getze]

BOISE, IDAHO (June 9) -- Walking from my hotel to the Saturday evening reception, Murder in the Grove’s closing show, I find myself mano-a-mano with New York Times best-selling author, this mystery convention’s Guest of Honor, Robert Crais. Strolling the sidewalk, just the two of us, one author to another. Sure. Like Roger Clemens and my granddaughter are both baseball players. “You’ve got to lose your ego in this business,” Crais says. My ears perk up. The first reason is Crais himself. One of the publishing industry’s biggest stars, and about to be presented with Idaho’s Bloody Pen Award for his contribution to crime fiction, Crais is wearing blue jeans, sneakers, shades, and a dark suit jacket over an untucked flowered shirt. “I showed up at a bookstore not that long ago and they’d completely forgotten about my signing,” Crais says. “The place was empty. When I found the manager, he offered me a job application.” All I can do is shake my head. Crais is telling me this story, talking about egos, for a reason. On his author panel earlier in the day, answering a question about my most embarrassing moment as a novelist, I mentioned what happened the night before. The bookstore we were all bussed to, for a signing, featured books by every author but me. “My point is, you can’t let that stuff upset you,” Crais says. “That stuff happens all the time, to everybody. It’s part of the business.” We’re about ten strides from the reception where one-hundred people await the presentation of Crais’s award and his acceptance speech. He’s a very funny, charming guy. I’ve got about four seconds before the crowd swallows him. “I wasn’t upset with that bookstore lady,” I say. “Pouring whipped-creme latte on people’s shoes is pretty calm for me.” Crais hesitates before joining the crowd, grins at me. “Yeah, but ramming the author bus into her Volkswagen was a bit much, don’t you think? You don’t want people saying you’re a hothead.” Before I can tell him it was an accident, that I’m not used to driving International diesels, Crais disappears into a sea of friends and fans. Maybe he’s right. I don’t want the publishing industry or potential readers to think I have a nasty temper. Then again, if the bus driver and that bookstore lady actually file charges, I could get some decent news coverage. Glad you’re on the bus. And don’t worry. I’m not driving.

[Jack Getze]

Sheri, that Carolyn Wheat (How to Write Killer Fiction)book is a REAL winner. I loved it.

[Sheri Fresonke Harper]

I like your tales, scary, but your sense of humor really helps, I can see that. Thanks for the tip on the book about tension. Wonderful! And Congrats on your book!

[Jack Getze]

You might be on to something, Margot. Maybe this active imagination involving violence is a common gene among crime fiction fans.

[Jack Getze]

I didn't really pour coffee on anybody's shoe, or smash anyone's car, of course. But I felt like it for five minutes sitting in the audience.

[Jack Getze]

da nada, Pepper. Thanks for reading.

[Pepper Smith]

LOL! Thank you. I appreciate it.

[Jack Getze]

BOISE, IDAHO (June 9) -- Walking from my hotel to the Saturday evening reception, Murder in the Grove’s closing show, I find myself mano-a-mano with New York Times best-selling author, this mystery convention’s Guest of Honor, Robert Crais.

Strolling the sidewalk, just the two of us, one author to another.
Sure. Like Roger Clemens and my granddaughter are both baseball players.

“You’ve got to lose your ego in this business,” Crais says.

My ears perk up. The first reason is Crais himself. One of the publishing industry’s biggest stars, and about to be presented with Idaho’s Bloody Pen Award for his contribution to crime fiction, Crais is wearing blue jeans, sneakers, shades, and a dark suit jacket over an untucked flowered shirt.

“I showed up at a bookstore not that long ago and they’d completely forgotten about my signing,” Crais says. “The place was empty. When I found the manager, he offered me a job application.”

All I can do is shake my head. Crais is telling me this story, talking about egos, for a reason. On his author panel earlier in the day, answering a question about my most embarrassing moment as a novelist, I mentioned what happened the night before. The bookstore we were all bussed to, for a signing, featured books by every author but me.

“My point is, you can’t let that stuff upset you,” Crais says. “That stuff happens all the time, to everybody. It’s part of the business.”

We’re about ten strides from the reception where one-hundred people await the presentation of Crais’s award and his acceptance speech. He’s a very funny, charming guy. I’ve got about four seconds before the crowd swallows him.

“I wasn’t upset with that bookstore lady,” I say. “Pouring whipped-creme latte on people’s shoes is pretty calm for me.”

Crais hesitates before joining the crowd, grins at me. “Yeah, but ramming the author bus into her Volkswagen was a bit much, don’t you think? You don’t want people saying you’re a hothead.”

Before I can tell him it was an accident, that I’m not used to driving International diesels, Crais disappears into a sea of friends and fans.

Maybe he’s right. I don’t want the publishing industry or potential readers to think I have a nasty temper.

Then again, if the bus driver and that bookstore lady actually file charges, I could get some decent news coverage.

Glad you’re on the bus. And don’t worry. I’m not driving.

[Pepper Smith]

Could I ask a favor of you? I would really like to read this, but I have a hard time reading solid blocks of text like this online. Would it be possible to insert paragraph breaks and put spaces between paragraphs?