within three hours of the start of BEA...

I met Neil Gaiman, John Scalzi, Kelly Link, and Gavin J. Grant.

Tomorrow? Ray Bradbury.

Oh, and I did get an ARC, signed and personalized, of "The Graveyard Book".

I wish my publisher flew me to BEA every year.

Seeya again soon, party people.

Joe sleep now. NOW!

and now for something completely different from Iraq.

I asked my sister if I could put this up here because it's quite nifty.

E____ says this:

"This photo cracks me up. Our troops go out all the time to talk to the locals, etc. etc., and it always looks so interesting that we are all Rambo-ed out, to include indoor meetings, etc. In this photo a group of troops wanted to go play soccer, but they still can’t take off their gear! I bet we’d play a great game of football in this stuff!"

BookExpoAmerica Setup Pictures

I have put together a flickr stream:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/27219356@N08/

Tell me if that doesn't work.

I think set-up is, in many ways, more interesting than the actual event. It's like looking at a decorated cake versus watching the pastry chef build the effervescent loveliness out of a slab of cake and some food coloring and almond paste.

Three couldn't make it into the stream. I've put them below:







Seriously, this thing is huge. After walking around the trade show floor, it occurred to me that I was going to need to get a bigger bag for tomorrow. Perhaps one that rolls... My back is injured already, I don't want to exacerbate my perfectly macho shoulder injury with a what appears to be a billion pounds of promotional copies of books.

(Also, Richard Dansky keeps wanting to give me some kind of squirrel-based beverage... I wish I was joking.)

Dirty Woman Sitting On a Stair in Los Angeles

We’ve talked about this, before.

How do I know which people are real and which people are fake?
The fake ones are the ones that look at me.
The fake ones are the ones that listen.
The fake ones are the ones that know my name.

That’s how I know.

I don’t want your help.

(Also, she said "Merry Christmas" to everyone walking past, too loud, too dirty, with no joy in her voice.)

SHIT! I forgot to mention this! The End of Her World is up in Dark Recesses Press!

My short story "The End of Her World" shows up near the end of the latest issue of Dark Recesses Press April .PDF...


http://www.darkrecesses.com/DRPApril2008.pdf

Wow, what planet was I on when I didn't mention that here?

I liked Sharyl Nantus' story, in this issue, too, btw.

my schedule for the week of May 25-June 1

I'm busting it at the day gig hard until Thursday.

Thursday, I'm off to Los Angeles for Book Expo America.

Thursday Night, I'll be signing books with oodles of other awesome authors at Dark Delicacies Bookstore. (http://www.darkdel.com/). An awesome line-up of writers that is, to be sure. Come by and say hey if you're in the Burbank area.

At BEA, I'll be at the Wizards of the Coast booth on Friday from 2:00-4:00, signing books. Then, on Saturday, from 11:30-12:30, Rob Rogers and I will be hanging at Author Alley signing more books.

Also, if you're reading this, and you're going to be at any of the event looking for me, bring me some coffee. I'm going to need it. Two creams, two sugars. Stat.

Because I am a man. Because that is what men do.

I pulled a muscle in my shoulder at the gym this morning. It hurts.

In telling this story, a common theme of the stories of men hurting themselves will appear.

So, I was at the end of my workout, and had just one more exercise to do. Bicep curls. Easy enough, right? I go over to the dumbbells. the weight-level I was on was being used by others right then.

I could have a) gone five pounds lower; b) gone five pounds higher; c) waited for the other guy to finish with the weight i wanted; d) found an alternative means of exercising those curling biceps.

Naturally, I should have just waited for the guy to finish with the weights, or found a different way to curl those biceps. At the very least, I should have said to myself, "Self, 'tis the end of my workout and I'm tired, and I can survive just going five pounds lower this time."

But - drumroll please - there was a *hot girl standing there*!

I was not interested in this girl. I had no desire to flirt, or chat, or in any way, shape, or means ingratiate myself with this hot girl. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was way too old for this hot girl. This is not the point however.

I still did the dumb thing. I went five pounds higher. I know I would have not done this if a hot girl had not been standing there.

And, of course, I pulled a muscle in my shoulder.

Why do we do this, men? Why do we insist on trying to impress women even if we aren't actually interested in them. If I was married with twelve children, I'd have done the same thing. If I was married to Angelina Jolie with twelve children, I'd have done the same thing. If Helen of Troy was waiting anxiously for me to return from the gym, I still would have reached for the heavier weights. When I am ninety and some hot twenty-something girl is in the weight room, I will likely still do the same thing.

Because I am a man.

Because that is what men do.

got a reject back that made me laugh...

apparently, an unnamed magazine i have submitted to exactly once sends back editorial comments with every piece.

i... hesitate to go into the whole thing and quote from it (and don't even ask me to name names! No way!), but i will say that if you want to berate a writer for multiple paragraphs about his total misunderstanding of an ethnic group that's comprised of primarily native americans, while also admitting that you don't recognize the technical term for native americans of mayan descent.

hm. maybe i used the proper name for that ethnic group...

this is one of the many reasons why standard editorial feedback is a bad idea. if an editor likes a story and wants to encourage the writer, then it's a good idea. if it is standard, it is very likely going to reveal more about the editor than the writer's work.

challenge...

turn the last thing you read into a haiku:

my bills are too big.
i wish i was reading books,
cereal boxes.

did you know what the nicest thing you can do for your favorite media artist is?

the best and kindest thing you can do for all your favorite media artists is simple. media (books, magazines, websites, music, films...) is the original virus.

give your favorite media to someone that you think might like it.

blurbs from neil gaiman, harlan ellison, and whatnot are all lovely things. but they are not as lovely as a blurb from you to your best friends. those are the best blurbs of all.

even better than a blurb? imagine if your best friend was handed something and told, "here is the virus that i am giving you. be infected with this art."

i explains it because folk be looking at me funny when i randomly give 'em something and be like, "hey, check it out. pass it on if you want, or give it back. whatever."

austin streets are as hipster as the population

the directions say - on the internet - take this highway down, easy enough, right?

not right. the internet calls it one thing. the road is not the road is not the road.

it's first called 183 - which is not the highway - and then you take this road down to places that point and say there will be this highway off that way somewhere in the distance (though the map says you're on the road the whole time), and then this road merges onto a major thoroughfare - er... TWO major thoroughfares because the highway twists like vines as lanes spin up or down around each other - and the roads bend and warp until at last - at *last* - the road bears its own name on a sign.

this road is not an exception. roads bend and twist and warp and break and remain unlabeled or wrongly labeled.

also, citizens intentionally give outsiders the wrong directions with a smile.

driving in austin is like verbally wrestling with a hipster. this is, of course, a spitting contest to see who can get the other one more lost in specific references.

like, if you were really worthy of driving on these roads, you'd know them by heart, already. if i cut you, you'd bleed paint lines. if you smiled, your teeth would be paved with blacktop. your skin would be tattooed in road signs.

if you were one of us, you'd wear this hip city so close to your skin, you wouldn't even need a car. you'd just happen to be in whatever place was hippest, hottest, and most-littered with abandoned fliers of events that have all become obscure references.

austin streets are as hipster as the population.

booksigning in austin

today at 2:00, i will be at this location

http://storelocator.barnesandnoble.com/storedetail.do;jsessionid=CE603D3DB933E1D773083480126C33CC?store=2928

that's on brodie lane in austin.

there will be chocolate. there will be books. there will be both martha wells, and rob rogers.

and, as long as i recover from my hangover (happy birthday, Ruth! Woohoo!), i will also be there.

i should be A-OK by then.

conversation with my cousin...

j m mcd - "Hey, how are you doing? Um, I'm at KickButt Coffee right now, in Austin."

A_ K_ - "I thought you weren't coming down until tomorrow? You're in Austin *NOW*?!"

j m mcd - "Yeah, I just noticed that the e-mail said I'd be down tomorrow, not tonight. I pulled it up to get your directions, and noticed that I'm a day early."

A___ K__ - "I thought you were coming down tomorrow!"

j m mcd - "I had thought, since traffic can be so hellacious that I would come down today instead of tomorrow, so I wouldn't risk being late for the signing. In fact, I had thought that's what was always happening. I just now looked at the e-mail, and realized that I'm a day early. I suck. I'm terrifically disorganized."

A___ K____ - "Yeah, I thought that was weird how you were planning on coming down the day of."

j m mcd - "Yeah, 'cuz it can take either three hours, or eight hours, depending on traffic, and I didn't want to risk being late for the signing tomorrow."

A___ K____ - "Yeah, it's fine..."

Yeah. I suck and wrote the wrong night in the e-mail.

I need a personal assistant. Who works for free. (How can I can I acquire an intern? I need one.)

while i was driving down to austin, i overheard...

while i was driving down to austin, i overheard a gentleman say that mexicans are coming up here to take our jobs.

seriously, that's the stupidest thing anyone can say about the illegal immigrants. it sounds like a comedy skit.

dude is sitting in a DQ, with his wife and kids, and his franchise-owner shirt on his back.

i can see it now. "pablo" crosses the river in the dark, with all his possessions on his back. he dodges vigilantes, coyotes, dobermans, and cops. he shuffles to the highways and barely escapes getting hit by a semi. he eventually gets a hitchhike up to a city, to a bus station, and eventually he finds himself at a small business in central texas. he waltzes in, and makes a beeline for the owner's box.

the owner says, "can i help you?"

pablo says, "get out of this office right now. you don't work here anymore."

the owner says, "excuse me?"

pablo places his belongings on a chair. he looks around the office. "this is a nice office you got here. i'm really going to like working here."

the owner, coming to a realization looks at the mexican immigrant, from his duct-taped shoes to his sweaty, travel-stained clothes. "Oh, you're a Mexican, and you've come up here to take our jobs!"

"Si, muchacho. Now get out of here. According to our Democratic President, I come up here, and I take your job!"

Yup, that's exactly what doesn't happen in the real world.

Mexicans started coming up here because we had a sever shortage of people willing to pick crops back in the forties and fifties. Thus, we had a guest worker program. Then, people panicked. Because brown-skinned people were coming and going at will and taking jobs Americans could have!

Then, we stopped the guest-worker program. Which did absolutely nothing to stop the farmers and workers who knew each other really well by now from getting the job done, anyway. Then, we started to panic because pedophiles and terrorists and gangs are going to slip into our country in the night and cause all sorts of dangerous, scary, un-American things.

Instead of treating our neighbors like potential enemies, lets start treating them like potention friends. get rid of that dumb, expensive, ineffective wall, already, red-wing lunatics. if you want to end illegal immigrant workers, find ways to legalize what will occur whether that vein in your forehead is about to pop out from your yelling or not.