BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Well, I don’t honestly know the actual issue. I’ve lost track and I’m just too lazy to go back and look. At any rate, I’m not getting any “real” writing done today because the Munchkin is home with a possible case of Strep Throat. Makes concentrating a bit hard when you have a sick child on the couch and cartoons blaring from the television, if you know what I mean.

So, anyway, since it has been awhile since I’ve posted a FAQ Blog, I thought I’d do something about it. So, without further fuss, here are some of the questions I get in person and in email on a regular basis, along with something resembling answers…

1) Are you and Dorothy Morrison married?

Yes. But we are NOT married to each other. Dorothy is married to a terrific guy by the name of Mark. I am married to a terrific gal named Evil Kat. Well, actually her name is just Kat, but she is kind of Evil, so she does actually answer to EK.

Now, I suppose this question probably stems from the fact the Dorothy and I tour together very often. To put it simply, Dorothy is pretty much like my big sister. We also tend to click when it comes to doing workshops together, and have even been described by some reviewers as a Pagan “Burns and Allen”. So, there you go.

2) Are you and your wife in an open relationship?

Believe it or not, I really do get this question…

Okay…Let’s see how I can answer this… We are open with each other. But, I know that isn’t what you are asking. I can pretty much sum this up in one word. Monogamy.

So, no. My wife and I are not into poly, swapping, free love, yadda yadda. This is not to say we have anything against anyone who is. If that is your schtick, hey, good on ya’. It’s just not for us.

I am sure I will find myself answering this question again. But, there you go…

3) Do you plan to write anything besides the Rowan Gant books?

Yes. I do plan to write other books. When, I have no idea. As long as the demand is there for the RGI series, it gets hard for me to NOT release one per year. Unfortunately, between touring and writing, about one book per year is about all I have time to write at this point.

4) Is there ever going to be a Rowan Gant movie?

I have no clue. It would be very cool, but I don’t have any contracts from any movie studios, so until that happens I’d have to say…yes/no/maybe… (Shrug)…Honestly, I just don’t know.

5) Is the RGI character, Felicity O’Brien, bisexual?

Honestly, this question confuses me. Let me answer it by asking this: At some point during the series has Felicity done something which lead you to believe she might be bi?

If so, please tell me what it is so I can go re-read it myself.

6) Will the RGI character, Ben Storm, ever get back together with his wife?

I have absolutely no idea. He hasn’t said anything about that at this point. If he does, I will be the second to know (he’ll be the first), my pre-readers will be the third, my editor the fourth, and you, the reader, will be number five.

7) When will Rowan and Felicity have children?

When Felicity turns up pregnant and carries full term.

8) What is RGI character Constance Mandalay’s shoe size?

Same as Felicity’s.

I was recently informed that this question was asked as a roundabout way of trying to figure out Constance’s stature in relation to Ben’s. Apparently there was some kind of speculation going on with regard to how the two of them physically interact in the bedroom. (And here all this time I thought I was writing suspense thrillers, not erotica… (shrug)…)

9) Are you a member of any writing/critiquing groups?

I am a member of an online group and many of us are spread out across the country. I have, however, met several of the folks in person.

10) I heard that there is a Rowan Gant based short story being published. Is that true and can I get details?

Yes. I wrote a short story for a horror anthology tentatively titled, Courting Morpheus. It is due out from Apex Publications mid 2008. And, yes, the story I wrote includes a portion of the gang from the RGI series. I will give more details when my editor tells me it’s okay.

That’s it for now… More to come…

Murv

Being on a book tour is hard work.

On the outside, looking in, it probably doesn’t seem that way to most folks. But, trust me, it is. Take, for instance, this most recent tour.

Each day, Morrison and I would get up at the buttcrack of dawn. As in 4AM or even a bit earlier. Sometimes a bit later, but not by much. This would immediately be followed by us complaining about how we were too old for this crap. Instead of giving up and going back to sleep, however, we would take our turns getting a shower, then stuff all of our “possibles” (as Morrison calls them,) into our respective suitcases, and then spend a few minutes disassembling and reassembling the 3 dimensional puzzle that was the trunk and back seat of the rental car. Once we had jumped up and down on the trunk lid a few times, finally getting it to latch, we would hop into the vehicle and hit the road. Our first stop would usually be the office of the motel for a cup of coffee and a stale donut. If no such comestibles were available to us, we would find a Dunkin Donuts, local diner, or even a stop ‘n shop where we could grab the aforementioned caffeine and carb fix.

Then, Jane, AKA “the bitch in the box” would bark her orders at us as we navigated the streets of unfamiliar cities, eventually making our way to an unfamiliar highway, then striking out on the next leg of our journey. The drive could be 4 hours, or it could be 7. It all hinged on where we were expected to be next (as outlined in the sacred blue folder, which lived for 15 days tucked behind the sun visor on the passenger side of the car…) Sometimes we had to be in one place by 11AM, only to turn around and be in another place by 6PM. Somewhere in that mess we also needed to check in to our motel, freshen up our road weary faces, and do what it is that one does when your job is signing books and entertaining workshop attendees.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Both of us truly enjoy going on book tours and meeting folks. I’m simply pointing out that this is NOT the glamorous life you see depicted in movies. It’s work. It’s tough work. And, it involves long, long days and nights. Typically, our work day is 14 to 16 hours.

You will notice in the above diatribe that nothing is mentioned about lunch. Just the stale donut and coffee at 5AM or thereabouts. Why no lunch? Because, when your schedule is that tight, and you are zipping across entire states going from bookstore to bookstore, lunch isn’t always an option. That stale donut/bagel and weak coffee is your primary sustenance for the day.

By the time you get finished with the appearances for that calendar date, it is almost certainly close to being the next day. As in, 11PM or after. You climb back into the car and head for the motel…or to the home of a friend where you are going to crash…and set out again. Sometimes the friend or motel is close. Sometimes it’s two hours down the road so that you are just that much closer to your next gig. It’s just the way of things. When you get where you are going, you suddenly realize that the donut and coffee are fully digested, every single nutrient that could be gleaned from them has been and has been used to its full potential…It also dawns on you that your adrenal gland, which has been keeping you upright for the past 8 hours is now tapped out. So, before you climb into bed to get your 3 to 4 hours of sleep, you roll into a diner and get a hamburger…or a cheese sandwich…or you even drop by the Quick E Mart and toss down one of those not so appetizing, pre-made, pre-packaged chicken salad sandwiches. (Well, I ate a sandwich, Morrison had M&M’s. I think she was looking for comfort food that night, and the Quick E Mart didn’t have a steak.) Anyway, the point is that you dump some kind of fuel into your system so that you can keep going.

So, what does this have to do with Pizza? Glad you asked.

After one of our gigs…I think it was in Rehoboth, MA, but don’t quote me, because I really did lose track of where and when I was (this is not unusual)…we had a one and a half hour drive to get to our crash point. We were staying with some friends who happen to live in Salem, MA. Since we had never been to their place before we had some directions with landmarks. A few minutes outside Salem, Morrison mentioned to me that one of the landmarks was the fact that their apartment building had a pizza joint on the ground floor.

Neither of us had eaten a thing since that morning. The magical word PIZZA had been uttered. We both looked at one another and said, “Pizza!” Our stomachs began to growl. Our mouths began to water. And, we said PIZZA! yet again. The monster was out of the proverbial closet.

We arrived at our destination, and with the help of our friends Kim and Alec, carted our luggage up to their spacious and exceptionally cool apartment. Kim called downstairs to order us a Pizza, primarily because we crawled out of the car and didn’t even say hello. We just kept saying, PIZZA and sighing wistfully. Fortunately, Kim and Alec are very bright and on the ball, which meant they were both able to quickly decipher the inane ramblings of two wiped out authors on tour.

The Pizza place was getting close to closing time so they told her they were only serving slices, and not making whole pizzas. Alarms went off. Eyes watered. Emotional breakdowns were on the verge of ensuing. Pizza was what we needed. Pizza was the only thing that would sustain us at this point. Without pizza we would wither and die. So, we all marched downstairs right into the pizza place. If nothing else, we were going to get a slice.

That was when Morrison gained a momentary spark of lucidity and genius. She looked at the girl behind the counter and said, “Are any of those pizzas back there whole?” The girl said, “Why yes, we do have a whole cheese pizza.” Morrison waved money at her and said, “Give it to me.” Note, she did not say “please, may we have that one,” or “would you be willing to sell us the whole pizza.” No, she said “Give it to me.” Obviously, since she was waving money she didn’t mean that the girl should literally “give it to her,” but it was obvious to everyone in the place that Morrison wasn’t leaving without that pizza.

I was reaching for my wallet. At that point we were both willing to toss all of the green we had onto the counter in order to obtain the sacred pizza. Fortunately, they were scrupulous folks and didn’t take advantage of us in our deteriorated states. We got the pizza, went back upstairs then stood in Kim and Alec’s kitchen, a slice in one hand, and a nice, cold, hard cider in the other. And we ate.

And we ate…

And we ate…

All in all, I can guarantee you that the pizza was pretty much average as pizzas go.

But, that night…Well, let’s just say on that particular night, it was the best damn pizza either of us had ever eaten in our lives.

More to come…

Murv

PS. In a day or two I’ll tell you about round two…New York style pizza (actually, they call it “pie”) purchased in New Jersey…