It’s December. That’s not like October or November, both of which tease us with the possibility of shoveling off our sidewalks and driveways but rarely come though. December is WINTER! I know, it isn’t officially the winter solstice for another few weeks, but all my summer clothes are packed away, as are my summer shoes. So—where’s the SNOW?

Throughout most of the autumn, the weather forecasters on our local TV clucked their tongues, warning us to brace outselves for the worst winter in history. I have my freezer stacked with enough food to last me for two weeks without having to stick my nose outside in the blizzard, and if I stay in all winter long, I’ll get even more writing done.

But I like snow. I like wintertime—not all year, naturally, but one of the reasons I relocated to NE Ohio 21 years ago was my love for changing seasons. In Los Angeles, there’s 11 months of summer and then rain in February. I don’t like snow piled up to my butt, I don’t like below-zero temps, and I REALLY don’t like driving in terrible weather. But I expected that some time before today, December 5th, I’d see some snow on the ground. REAL snow—snow that completely covers the grass. Snow that begs to be packed into snowballs by kids who love to start snowball fights. Snows that always remind me of Irving Berlin’s classic American song, “White Christmas.”

I have yet to wear my overcoat since last March. I have not worn my parka since last February. I have several attractive scarves in which I’d look like a total fool if I wore today. I haven’t even thought about wearing LAYERS to keep me cozy.

I assume everyone who hates winter with a purple passion has already relocated to Florida or Arizona. For the rest of us—we don’t look forward to a ghastly, dangerous, not-going-outside three months of howling blizzards and off-the-lake winds that will freeze off our noses. But I repeat—it’s DECEMBER! How about a little snow?

The holiday festivities are upon us. I look forward to them, mainly because I stayed home on Black Friday, so I didn’t get trampled, jostled, pepper-sprayed or tossed aside like an old toy. I had shopping to do, sure—but I’m not crazy.

This coming Saturday, December 2nd, I’ll be doing what’s probably my last public apperance of 2011, when I’ll be at the Barnes and Noble Bookstore in Crocker Park, Westlake OH, starting at 1 pm, to sign both my books from this year, “The Cleveland Creep” and “The Strange Death of Father Candy.” I hope B&N will also have on hand paperbooks of all the Milan Jacovich novels; BTW, they make excellent stocking stuffers. I sign paperbacks, too. As a matter of fact, I’ll sign a cocktail napkin if nothing else is handy—but be warned, they do NOT pay me for my penmanship.

Do kids even TAKE penmanship anymore? When I was in grade school, nobody knew how to type (except me), but everyone learned how to write with a pen or pencil. In today’s world, even five year olds can type on a computer, but haven’t the vaguest idea how to WRITE anything on a piece of paper. Those who grow up to be authors won’t even remember how to autograph their books—and if they do, nobody will be able to read them.

I’m happy, however, to be signing on Cleveland’s west side, and hope all my friends from that neighborhood will come by and say hello—and when I say “west side,” I include readers from California, Oregon, Colorado, Washington State, Arizona, etc., but I realize that’s kind of a long drive.

The good news is that all the books I’ve written are now ebooks as well, so even if you happen to live halfway around the world, you can read the Milan Jacovich mysteries or the stand-alone novels, the Christmas novella, and even the non-fiction memoir, with only a few clicks.
Hurry and read them all, though, because I’m nearly finished with the next Milan, currently entitled “Whiskey Island,” which I hope will be available in the spring of 2012.

Meantime enjoy the joyous spirit, watch all those gazillon Christmas movies on TV that no one has ever heard of, and try hard not to let the craziness of curent politics drive you mad.

Cheers!

As I prepare for my book signing appearance tomorrow at one o’clock (11/19) at the charming Learned Owl Bookstore in Hudson, Ohio, I got to pondering about bookstores in general.
Bookstores have supplied me with some of the best times of my life. When I was young, I worked in several Manhattan bookstores. With one exception, Brentano’s, they were all small, independent, and invariably inspired a real face-to-face relationship between reader and bookseller. When I began writing novels in the late eighties, many of my book signings were also at independent bookstores—mostly in Southern California, where I lived, but I found myself traveling, too, to small and quirky bookstores in places like Chicago, Colorado, Texas, Arizona, Pennsylvania and Ohio, among others. Even when I moved to the Greater Cleveland area and appeared in larger stores like Barnes & Noble or Borders, I looked forward to the smaller, more intimate shops.
In the last year, retail bookselling has changed dramatically. More than half of today’s regular readers order ebooks—which is a good thing. Today, if one happens to live in, say, Bulgaria and wants to read “The Strange Death of Father Candy” or “The Cleveland Creep,” within a few minutes they’ll have the entire text in their hands. (I’m rooting for a BIG Bulgarian readership!)
In the meantime, the sudden, shocking nose-dive of all the Borders stores nationwide caught lots of people by surprise. And New Years Eve of 2010 was the last time one could walk into Joseph-Beth Books in Legacy Village and browse; the economy shot them down, too. Many worryied that within five years or so, NO ONE would be carrying a paper-printed book around with them. It IS cheaper to order an ebook, easier to carry around, and nobody would be building bookshelves for their living rooms anymore.
I doubt there’s that much to worry about if we all remember our unique, special independent bookstores like the Learned Owl and the Fireside Book Shop, and Visible Voice in Tremont. Granted, they carry a smaller percentage of books on their shelves than Borders or Barnes & Noble—but the people who work there are BOOK people. They can discuss the books with you, tell you who else is reading them, and granting you their particular favorites, too. That DOES happen occasionally in Barnes & Noble—but it never happened to me or anyone I know in Borders. If you want to know about a book, ask Liz or Kate at the Learned Owl, or Richard and Mary Alice at the Mystery Bookshop in Oakmont, PA, or Phil and his crew at Fireside, and they’ll be happy to tell you. And on the chance it is not at the moment in their stores, they can order it and put it in your hands within a few days.
The GOOD independents that have hung in there are rising and refocusing; they know what they’re doing, they can help you with ebooks, and most important of all, they very much CARE about books and writers. The big corporate bookstores that are left do a great job—I’ve signed with them recently and have had a good time there—but I guarantee you one of your most pleasant afternoons or evenings at an INDEPENDENT NEIGHBORHOOD bookstore. When you walk in the door, immediately you know that you’re home.

So far, this has been a great week—and it’s now only Wednesday morning!

I had a terrific time at the Buckeye Book Fair Saturday. Met lots of nice people who read my books, got to hug some fellow writers who’ve been friends for years, met some new ones, too—specifically Jim and Nancy Petro, who shared a table with me all day. THeir fasciknating non-fiction book, “False Justice,” is about those who are imprisoned for a crime they haven’t committed. Good, thoughtful stuff.
On Monday I spoke at the Austintown Library just outside Youngstown, mostly discussing my new book, “The Strange Death of Father Candy,” which happens to be SET in Youngstown in 1985. Again, delightful people and a great audience. I sold lots of books, too—not only “Father Candy” but my most recent Milan Jacovich book, “The Cleveland Creep.”
I saw two GOOD movies this week: “Margin Call,” about those robber barons against whom Occupy Wall Street are now (rightfully) railing against. The film could have been made yesterday! Great performances by Kevin Spacey and Jeremy Irons (three Oscars between them). The other: a comedy about getting REVENGE on those billionaire crooks, “Tower Heist.” Every time Eddie Murphy appeared onscreen, I had to laugh out loud. A good popcorn movie.
Friday morning I’ll cross swords and wisecracks on the radio with John Lanigan and Jimmy Malone—WMJI 105.7 in the Cleveland area or online. Lanigan is probably mad at me because I didn’t even mention his name in the new book (“Father Candy”). Catch me during the 8 o’clock hour.
Two book signings over the weekend: Saturday I’ll be at Barnes & Noble in Mentor, OH at 2 p.m. Lake County has always shown me tremendous support, and I look forward to meeting them all again. Then on Sjunday I’ll appear to sign books at the Barnes & Noble in Woodmere Village, on CHagrin Boulevard just east of the I-271 freeway exit. That one will be at 1 p.m.
I’m also living and functioning in a bit of a wreck, as my apartment is being painted. I’m now working at my dining room table instead of in my office. But it’s starting to look pretty spiffy; I can’t wait until it’s finished.

Have any of you ever attended the Buckeye Book Fair, on the first Saturday, in Wooster, Ohio? It’s probably one of the best book events ANYWHERE. There are about eighty authors present (fiction and non-fiction), and the fair usually draws anywhere from 1600 to 2000 people, who wander the aisles, chat with the writers, and buy lots of books, many of them for Christmas presents.
I’ve appeared at this book fair about fourteen times (I’m guessing), and this Saturday, November 4th, I’ll be there signing my two newest books, “The Strange Death of Father Candy” and “The Cleveland Creep.” I’ll also have several different titles in the Milan Jacovich series available in trade paperback editions.
The fair is held at the Fisher Auditorium, OARDC, at 1680 Madison Avenue in Wooster, Ohio. I’ll look forward to seeing you there, and so will all the other writers. And I’m happy to report that everyone’s books sell VERY WELL at the Buckeye Book Fair.

My 26th book is out and available! Looking back on my career, it astonishes me that I’ve been able to write 26 books in 24 years. There’d probably be a few more if I hadn’t taken time out to recuperate from several serious medical problems. But “THE STRANGE DEATH OF FATHER CANDY” is only the second non-series book I’ve done. It was a nice change of pace for me. It will remain a stand-alone, though—I’ll probably write no more adventures of Dominick Candiotti; when you finish reading the book, you’ll probably understand why.

I blogged a few months back about ideas—where they come from and what I do with them. So I can report that I’m nearly finished with the next Milan Jacovich novel, and there are two more cooking inside my head that I’ll dive into next. That means, assuming I can still sit up straight, that there’ll be at least one book per year for the next three years, through 2014. And by that time, I assure you I’ll have a couple more great ideas for novels perking away, begging to be free. So hang in there with me, dear friends. I’ve always needed you, and greatly appreciate your support.

I want to remind everyone that in the next few weeks I’ll be doing several signings for my new stand-alone novel, “The Strange Death of Father Candy.” No, this one is NOT about Milan Jacovich. Every so often I have the urge to write a mystery novel that doesn’t fit into the Cleveland Private Eye format I’ve developed over the last quarter century—and “Father Candy” is one of them. I always love meeting people at these talks/signings, and hope you’ll be able to join me at one of them.

(#1) I’ll be doing my first signing at Fireside Book SHop in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, at 7 p.m. on Friday, October 28th.

(#2) On Monday, October 31 (BOO!) I’ll be at the Mystery Lovers Book Shop in Oakmont, Pennsylvania. (Oakmont is a suburb of Pittsburgh.)

(#3)I’ll be at the Cleveland Store in Tower City, downtown Cleveland, from 12 until 2 pm on Friday, November 4th.

(#4) My all-day gig will be at the fantastic Buckeye Book Fair (along with more than 80 other writers) in Wooster, Ohio on Saturday, November 5th. It’s quite an event—I’ve been there at least fifteen times before.

(#5) On November 7th, I hope everyone in the Youngstown area who will, I hope, enjoy “The Strange Death of Father Candy,” set in their home town, and come see me at the Austintown (Ohio) Library at 6:30 pm.

More signings to come later, but I won’t belabor you with them now.

In a blog I wrote some months ago, I mentioned that I get up to twenty new story ideas every day, but the ones that stick to my soul, that take up residence in my gut and demand to be let out are the ones that eventually turn into books.
At the moment I’m overjoyed! As soon as I finish writing the mystery novel now in progress, there are two others just WAITING to come alive on a page.
When I’m writing a book—and I always am—I’m cooking the next one in my head. Now I’m cooking two of them.
The first was an idea brought to me by someone else, an idea so good that he’ll actually be contributing to writing the book with me. Now, we won’t sit in a room together and argue every sentence—there’s no way I could do that without killing the person on the other side of the desk. But he has already sent me some great plot twists and characters, based on his own profession, and I’m really anxious to get started—just as soon as I finish my current project.
Then, two weeks ago, I was idly reading news reports on the Internet and came across one similar to many other stories I’ve read over the last ten years—and suddenly how I would turn this particular happening into a murder mystery immediately clicked inside my head, almost the same way that a tale of Youngstown a quarter century ago sprang full-blown into “The Strange Death of Father Candy,” due out in about two weeks.
So I’m pretty much committed for the next eighteen months, telling stories that I feel I MUST tell. In case YOU have a great idea that needs to be written, either do it yourself—a good way to go, I think—or get in touch with me about it sometime around April of the year 2013.
Meantime I must stop this particular blog—and get to WORK!

This morning I got an email from somebody in Nigeria, telling me that out of the goodness of his heart (He’s dying) he’s transferring to me the sum of $4.9 million dollars. Fascinating, no? Except that at least twice a week I get emails from different people in Nigeria, and sometimes from other countries—and they always seem to be dying—offering me absurdly large amounts of money. If I add all those sums together, I wouldn’t be as rich as J.K. Rowling (the author of “Harry Potter,” in case you didn’t know), or not as rich as Oprah, either—but I would be sitting on approximately $120 million in the bank.

These good-hearted samaritans always want me to send them a piddling amount of money for “processing.” Sometimes $54, sometimes as much as $250—and I should also send them my name, address, social security number, bank account number, etc.

I have a few questions, though: #1 – If they are all from Nigeria, which is NOT a wealthy country, why don’t they give their money to people who live next door or down the street instead of to someone they never heard of who lives in Ohio? #2 – If they’re so wealthy, why didn’t they go to school and learn to spell properly and to parse sentences correctly? #3 – Do ALL those fatally ill, obscenely wealthy Nigerians want to bequeath me huge buckets of money because they’ve all read my books and love them SO much?? #4 – Why do all these pitiful scammers want us to believe they’re actually from Nigeria when they probably live in Ames, Iowa or someplace like that?

Most important question: # 5 – If any of you have actually responded to similar offers of riches beyond belief, and sent them processing money and vital information about yourselves, how come you’re stupid enough not to be able to kick yourself in the butt and stop reading those emails?

Meantime, when my $120 million finally comes through—and maybe more, because who knows what new email I”ll get tomorrow—let’s all go out to dinner and celebrate. Naturally, the meal is on me—as long as you send me a token processing fee and your social security number.

Have a good day.