A Famous Author Was Rude to Me, and Other Tales from Love Is Murder

OK, so you know what happened on Friday at the conference.

Saturday

First, I got copies of my books to the bookseller, Sue Peterson. That way, I didn't have to deal with cash when working with the droves of people anxious for a hot off the presses copy of May Day (I actually did sign and sell three copies, which was fun after I got over the "what and where do I write?" dilemma). Then, I went to various panel presentations and met a wonderful woman named Eleonora, who is working on a mystery series involving birding. It sounded like it has a built-in audience and great potential. I also met a dolphin researcher named Kelly Jaakkola writing a science thriller involving dolphins. Smart chick. And I got William Kent Krueger to sign a copy of his standalone for my mom and David Morrell to sign a copy of Creepers for my dad. Both men were very nice and both are very good writers, though seriously, if you haven't read WKK's writing, get some now. He's off the charts good.

In the afternoon I went to a panel on writing sex (which is about all I'm doing with it lately), and Barry Eisler made funny points about how authors are uncomfortable writing about sex because we all think the reader is going to think we're writing about ourselves, and what if we're bad in bed? Shortly thereafter, I was on the first time authors panel, and I was nervous but met a nice guy named Marcus. And then one time, at band camp... oh wait, here's a picture of me at the first time author's panel with Morgan Mandel on my left and Sarah Wisseman on my right.

So that night, I'm sitting by chance at a dinner table with the luminaries of the conference--famous, famous writers. I don't know how it happened. Anyhow, on my left is one of the famous authors, who shall from now on be referred to as Rudy. I have never read Rudy's work, but coincidentally bought a copy of the first book in the series the day before (not Morrell or Krueger). I say to Rudy, "I just bought a copy of blah de blah. I'm excited to read it."

Rudy, who is hilarious in large groups but currently throwing back scotch like his ass is on fire, doesn't deign to look at me and instead says, in a bored voice, "So you're the one." The other woman next to Rudy says, "I heard you're working on a novel about slaynar." I actually didn't hear what she said, so I say, "What's the book about?" Rudy says humorlessly, "It's about 300 pages." Still not looking at me.

I spent enough years bartending to recognize the manic depressive drinker, so I turn to the very nice man to my right and start talking about Supersize Me, the movie where Morgan Spurlock skinny dips in the filth that is McDonald's. Rudy grabs my arm and asks for a pen. I give him one, he writes something and throws the pen back at me without saying thank you. Rudy spends the rest of the night being ignored by authors more famous than him, so maybe I was just on the bottom of the feeding chain. Regardless, the next day I took his book, unread, and donated it along with a copy of May Day to the woman collecting books for a Hospice silent auction.

Also the next day, I got tax tips for writers and met with the Chicago librarians who had fantastic advice about researching and making connections with libraries. They were actually pretty funny, in a good way. My favorite was the one librarian who referred offhandedly to the banned books display, and how that's one of the most popular displays at her library. Look for a banned book display to appear in an upcoming Murder by Month Mystery. Love it.

And that's about it for Love Is Murder. I met some fantastic people and one ass and learned a great deal about creative writing and creative marketing. If you are a Chicago-area mystery writer and/or if you write thrillers, traditional, and hard-boiled mystery, I highly recommend you check out this scene next year. Whee.