
Nov. 1, 2016 – On the walls of the coffeeshop where I write – portraits of Ursula K. LeGuin and Shirley Jackson. And, on the table in front of me, at least as important – the perfect latte. Thanks, Clyde Coffee.


Nov. 1, 2016 – On the walls of the coffeeshop where I write – portraits of Ursula K. LeGuin and Shirley Jackson. And, on the table in front of me, at least as important – the perfect latte. Thanks, Clyde Coffee.
Deadline convergence! Proofs due on a short story for an anthology. Post due for International Thriller Writers‘ Thrill Begins site. Proofs for Book 4, RESERVATIONS, to land in my inbox tomorrow. And, in the Day Job, the election locomotive is bearing down. So long, sleep.
Oct. 20, 2106 – A very long time ago, at a holiday party thrown by the Montana Kaimin (the University of Montana’s student newspaper), I drew a “Booty Mix” CD as my gift. With such classics as Do Me!, The Humpty Dance, Push It and of course Da’ Butt, it remains some of my best writing music. Dialed it up yesterday and got more work done than I have in weeks.

Oct. 29, 2016 – That moment when you realize the relatively simple solution to the manuscript’s major issue.


Oct. 28, 2016 – Friday is hell day at the newspaper, when we edit the Saturday, Sunday and Monday papers. So, to ease into the day, Scott and I always go to breakfast at the Catalyst – where today, they gave me extra bacon. Score!
Oct. 27, 2106 – Brutal insomnia last night.

Finally gave up on sleep and dove into The Sparrow. Wowza!

When life gives you lemons, etc. 


Oct. 26, 2016 – I love book group. Great books, great people – and pie! Really, isn’t that all you need of life?

Oct. 25, 2016 – Started the day with a run in the just-light under shoals of clouds, which obligingly parted to reveal a perfect sliver of moon.

With apologies to Master of the Form Chris LaTray, to my brother, and to any and everyone else who’s been doing this for years, I’m giving it a shot – mainly because I’m such an inconsistent blogger.
But a single sentence! Anyone can manage that, right?
It’s right in line with my theory of writing a novel. Stripped down to its barest minimum, even if you only write a sentence a day, after enough (OK, many, many, many) days, you’ll have a first draft. Me, I shoot for 500 words a day toward a first draft when I’m also working a day job, 1,000 words if I’m gainfully unemployed.
I’ll put that discipline to the test in January, when I start a new book. But before then, a couple of dreaded deadlines loom – the copy edits on my fourth novel, RESERVATIONS, out in March, and the manuscript for my fifth, at this point imaginatively named BOOK FIVE. Both are due in mid-December. Which makes me feel like this:
If I survive, I’ll probably go back to the occasional blog post. Until then, a sentence or two, starting with today’s:
Oct. 24, 2016: Spent most of my precious two hours of coffee shop time staring in horror at all of the inconsistencies in the end of the ms. Finally tore into them as the clocked ticked toward 9 a.m. Progress, right?
Four days after returning from Bouchercon, the annual crime fiction convention held this year in New Orleans, I’m almost recovered. Bouchercon deserves its own post, and will get it.
But one of the highlights of the long weekend was this year’s ceremony to award the Pinckley Prizes. The awards for crime fiction by women writers take their name from Diana Pinckley, who write the “Get a Clue!” crime fiction column for the Times-Picayune for 23 years.
Pinckley died in 2012 and, to honor her memory, the Women’s National Book Association of New Orleans established the award to honor her memory. There are two prizes—one for a first novel, and one for body of work—and I was honored to be the debut author who received that inaugural award.

Sara Paretsky

Christine Carbo
Laura Lippman won for body of work that year, and the prizes were given out at the annual Tennesese Williams/New Orleans Literary Festival. The 2013 winners were Nevada Barr and Adrianne Harun (debut novel, A Man Came Out of a Door in the Mountain), and this year, Sara Paretsky won for body of work. My fellow Montanan, Christine Carbo, won for her first novel, The Wild Inside.
I am in awe of the level of writing by Lippman, Barr and Paretsky, authors at the top of their game. The fact that the Pinckley Prizes puts debut novelists in proximity to those outstanding in the field is a vote of affirmation, and also incentive not to squander the faith that has been placed in us.
I wish I’d been able to meet Pinckley (all her friends refer to her by her last name). But this video, stemming from her involvement in Women of the Storm — a group of women who sought to bring attention to the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina — gives a sense of her personality. I’m told she also wore purple cowboy boots, clue to an exuberant spirit that might not come through in the video.
So, an annual thank-you to the WNBA and the Pinckley Prizes committee, and I’m already looking forward with great anticipation to see who next year’s winners will be.
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