Scarlet Letters

Oh, Extended Stay. We had a good run, you and me. You were all seductive, with your kitchenettes that made it possible for me to eschew budget-killing restaurants and your awesome $35-a-night prices. I've done half my tours from your hotels, rather uncomfortable but still with the cheap. So as has been my practice, I booked a night in the local extended stay place for the night before the show, saving myself $60 by not adding a night to my stay at the Hilton. QED. Except on my way to Memphis today, I called the hotel to tell them we were running late and they told me they had no reservation for me. Whahuh? No reservation? But you've already taken my money! I saw it deducted from my account this morning! No, that reservation was for two days ago, and you were a no-show, they told me. That may be what their computer says, but I know what day I clicked. Too bad, they're full up tonight, they said. So I found myself twenty minutes from the author kaffeeklatsch and with no...

What, you don't get enough of my yammering here? Too bad! • I'm the first guest in a two-parter for DragonTalk Radio , talking to the inestimable Jon Klement about zombies, The Cold Ones, the con lifestyle, zombies, Literary Underworld, Blackfire and zombies. Jon is, as always, a very genial host and a lot of fun to chat with. Even if I end sentences in prepositions and he forgets the name of the author cooperative in which he is a MEMBER. (No, Jon, ain't lettin' it go till I see you and smack you.) • I was the guest commenter with the Back Seat Producers a few weeks ago, when they spent the hour discussing Jaws. I think I did a good job defending Bruce the Shark and Mr. Spielberg himself. As per usual, the conversation... uh, wandered. (The shark as a metaphor for male impotence?) This might have been helped along by the excellent rum served by Tony Mast, who is zookeeper of the BSP. Seriously, I had a lot of fun and would gladly return the next time they'r...

Hello denizens! I've got so much stuff going on I need to make a list to keep track of it. So how could I possibly expect YOU could keep up with it? Thus, this helpful post. • First, I'm going to be on Jon Klement's DragonTalk Radio show tomorrow night! (That's Thursday.) You can listen to the show live as we record it, or check it out later for the recording. We'll talk zombies, the con life and how much I'm going to kill him for forgetting the name of the Literary Underworld during his interview last week with Jimmy Gillentine. • We'll also have a reader chat on March 16 beginning at 7 p.m. CST in the Wilderness Chat Room . It's been a while since we did this, so as usual there will be ridiculous trivia questions, door prizes and nonsense for those brave enough to show up. Be there! We'll be chatting until 9 p.m. or until I'm the only one left in the room, so come join us! • The Infinity novella is now available in Kindle, PDF and c...

Coming out at the end of the month: Blackfire, the sequel to my bestselling zombie novella The Cold Ones. And we really want you to preorder this book, so we're offering a whoooole bunch of freebies. • Order Blackfire before March 30, and you'll receive a free emergency zombie kit! • Order both The Cold Ones and Blackfire , and you'll also receive an autographed chapbook of the chilling novella Infinity. And you'll get them for less than cover price – only $15 for all four items. Preorders are only available through The Literary Underworld . Buy today! Don't miss this deal! Sara Harvey just wanted to be left alone, listening to the voices of the sea. Washing the blood from her hands. But duty calls her back, to a new team still learning to fight the things that go chomp in the night. They will give Sara one last mission, one way to quiet the voices. One chance at redemption. It should have been nothing, a minor problem on the dark cobblestone wharf...

Boy's class is studying Greek mythology. They're going to show Clash of the Titans and thus we had to sign a permission slip because it's PG-13. They're showing them the new one. BOY: Mom! ME: What. BOY: Why did you write this on my permission slip? ME: I wrote my name. BOY: You said, "Under protest! Too bad it isn't a good movie!" Smiley face, Elizabeth Donald. ME: That's right. It was a sucky movie. BOY: It was not! ME: It was too! It was even bad mythology! Release the Kraken my ass, the Kraken was Norse mythology! You can't teach good mythology with a bad movie! BOY: It was a bad movie. But we can't watch the original. It had nudism. ME: Oh my goodness! You might see... boobies! Gasp! BOY: *helpless giggling fit* ME: Go to school. And don't tell them I said that. (Yes, I know the original also replaced Ceto from the Greek myths with the goddamn Kraken. I didn't say the old one was a good movie either.)

I freely admit that I don't get how Amazon picks its "buy these two for almost the same price!" deals. I mean, I get that they're going to put my vamp books with some damn Twilight knockoff, because of course all vampire books are the same. Head, desk, repeat. Sometimes they get it right, such as when they put Nocturne and Abaddon together. I mean, they are in the same series. And maybe if you don't look too closely, you won't notice that the price for both books is exactly the same as it would be buying them separately, or that you could get both books directly from me , signed, for a whole lot less. But whose fucking brilliant idea was it to put my decidedly non-sexual collection of horror and science fiction Twilight-Zone- style creepified stories ... with the Hitachi Magic Wand? I am not making this up. On the off chance one or two of you don't know, the Hitachi Magic Wand is a giant vibrator. Really? Which is the sexier story - the guerri...

Today's dinner break was a quick run to the grocery store, as we are out of everything. It was the funniest grocery trip in ages. My local grocery also has a full-service florist and a chocolatier. And every time I turned a corner, there was another confused male standing in front of a display, looking chagrined. One guy stared at the chocolate-covered strawberries for so long I wanted to go over to him and say, "It's okay, man. I swear she'll like them." The line at the florist counter was five deep. All men. The card aisle: thronged with men. Each of them with this stunned look on their faces. I felt the need to Tweet. ME: It is hilarious watching all the men staring blankly at flower and chocolate displays. Guys, you knew this was coming. How could you miss it? JIMMY: Hon, we're dumb. ME: No man better complain about excessive V-Day ads, is all I'm saying. JIMMY: Yep. As I stood in the checkout line, there was a girl of no more than twenty be...

It's been a couple of years since I updated my database of independent bookstores. When I created the list in 2007, there were 579 appropriate, viable bookstores on it. Today there are 505. That's pretty awful, but when you consider the impact of the economy in the last three years, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been. Considering that overall, only half of new small businesses survive their first five years, it's pretty damned good. I'm happy to see that a lot of bookstores that had eschewed the internet now have web sites. And web sites of their own, not just listings in Booksense. You would think that, say, an independent bookseller on the Upper East Side of Manhattan would know that it should have a web site, but apparently bookstores are among the last to join us here on our intertubes. Here's the thing: I'm betting there are a lot of good, viable bookstores that haven't made my list yet. There are 1200+ booksellers in the American Book...

Stephen Zimmer with Seventh Star Press interviews me about the Literary Underworld and my secret plan for world domination . In which I talk about the state of the small press, big box vs. indie bookstores, the challenges with fitting the booth in my Camry and the pain of sending rejection letters. With secret bonus plans for next year's insanity! EDIT: Meanwhile, Author Adventures says nice things about Stephen saying nice things about me. Oh, and about my wish for a van. I would totally paint our giant half-skull on the side, I'm just saying.

As my father told me, the hardest part of being a parent is not laughing in front of them when they do something hilariously boneheaded. ME: [All Three Names]!* BOY: What! ME: What in heaven's name did you do to the molasses! It's all over the counter! BOY: ... ME: Tell the truth. BOY: You know how you're always saying, "slow as molasses in January"? ME: Yes.** BOY: Well, I saw the jug of molasses, and I wondered how slow molasses is, so I turned it upside down and the cap was loose and - ME: You were trying to see how slow molasses in January is? BOY: *nodsnods* ME: It's not January! BOY: It's December, it's close enough! ME: Go clean up the counter! And then I went in the other room to laugh myself silly. * Some things are universal. When Mom calls you with first, middle and last names, you're in trouble. ** As my mother told me, and her mother told her: "You're as slow as molasses in January!" Rinse, repeat.

Many years ago, I began writing stories of the Muse. She lives in my head, and she's the source of my work. She used to be the only source, but after a while she got some companions. She's not all that happy about it. Because I thought it might entertain you, I am reprinting some Chronicles of the Muse in this journal. And maybe it'll entice her to come back and visit me more often.  This was written while I was waiting for Nocturnal Urges to be released, and writing a novella that would eventually become Yellow Roses . The idea spawned by this dream eventually became "The Sheriff of Nottingham," which will be in my upcoming collection Moonlight Sonata . I named neither protagonist Matt. May 3, 2004 MUSE: You IDIOT! ME: Shh, someone might hear you. MUSE: Not likely, you moron. I'm in your head. ME: Yeah, well, it's not my fault. MUSE: We get a full lunch hour to work on the goddamn book and you don't recharge the laptop? ME: I did rec...

I feel rather like a deep-sea diver who is surfacing after a very long time underwater. The fall book tour (a.k.a. Deathmarch) is done. The new book (a.k.a. The Bitch) is done. The election is done. In fact, the only thing that isn't done is the laundry. But that's never done. Okay, technically I still have one more booksigning this Saturday. But since it doesn't require sleeping in a hotel or packing a suitcase, I say it doesn't count. I am slowly unearthing my kitchen and I might even get crazy and run a vacuum. Pretty soon I'll put that suitcase in the closet, because really, I won't need it for a couple of months. It's a heady feeling. Even better is this: last night I got home and realized that I did not have to work on the book. This might seem weird, but for months now I've been on the midnight shift. I work the day at the newspaper, then I get off duty and go be Mom for a while. Once the boy is in bed, then I break out the laptop and work...

I was trying desperately to get out the door on Thursday for a weekend of book sell-n-sign, but the Cooks Source nonsense exploded on the internet. Penned on the fly, I wrote the SPJ Ethics Committee's response on Code Words, the blog where we comment on breaking-news ethics issues. Not quite a press release or a white paper, mind you, and the words and opinions are my own. I haven't done this before, and I decided to go with my usual conversational tone rather than the more formal style I would use for other venues, because it's a blog. And the thing I like the most about blogs? I get to talk like a person. :) Enjoy me roasting Cooks Source.

HOW TO SURVIVE A HORROR MOVIE by Elizabeth Donald et al 1. If the house you're living in tells you to "GO AWAY," do it. Now.
 2. If you're a virgin, stay that way.
 3. If a killer with a knife is chasing you around the house, do not go upstairs. Go out the front door. 4. For the love of God, turn on the lights.
 5. Never split up.
 6. Never stoop over to see if the killer is dead. He's just waiting for you.
 7. Never get naked in front of a window.
 8. Avoid the following geographical locations, even on a bet: Amityville, Elm Street, Crystal Lake, Transylvania, remote islands, lover's lanes, secluded mountain resorts and all small towns in Maine.
 9. Never pick up hitchhikers.
 10. If a small town off the highway is deserted, it's probably for a very good reason.
 11. If your speedometer suddenly starts turning backward, trade the car.
 12. Never dig up strange-looking objects in the woods.
 13. Never bury pets or loved ones in old Native Am...

It's funny how the end of the rough draft always feels like I've spent the last mumblety months slugging it out with the Muse, and that bitch does not fight fair. I've got the bruises to prove it. Someday maybe rough drafts won't be like pulling teeth sans anesthetic. Someday I might even be able to write a book ONCE and be done with it. But no - whenever I write a book, the first draft is a long, awful slog through the story I know I want, and no matter how good I think I am, the book is never, ever as good as it was in my head. This one is no exception. Finishing the first draft always feels a bit of a letdown: "Well, that wasn't nearly as good as I thought it would be. I suuuuuck." It's the second draft when it gets fun. Because I'm deranged, I rewrite a book from scratch. As in, I retype the entire thing, rewriting as I go. I wish I could do like other authors; print out a copy, mark it up with red pen, make the changes and off we go. But...

Angelia woke me up again Monday. I fired her again. I got to my panel on time and rehired her. The morning panel was on horror and comedy, starring Lee Martindale as moderator and several other fine folks. I barely remember this panel, as I neglected to consume caffeine before it, so hopefully I didn't say anything too stupid. Death is easy; comedy is hard. Then began the mad dash. Angelia and I returned to the room to pack up and pack out; most of our roommates had already vacated the premises. First we had to haul my six boxes of books down to the booth, then my suitcase, cooler and bag o' food to luggage storage. The only upside was that I checked out on the in-room TV, which was a nice bit of the future and saved me standing in that line. Thus I bid farewell to Angelia with my soberest gratitude for manhandling me through the convention. When talking to her father, Angelia said the best part of being my flunky was access to the VIP greenroom. I snarked that I thought ...

Angelia woke me up again. I fired her. But I unfired her when she gave me tea, so I think she’s holding them in reserve. My signing was scheduled with Mercedes Lackey and A.C. Crispin. When Mercedes saw the line to Spain for her books, she declared in a loud voice, “You are all insane!” Note to self: Mercedes had pre-signed bookplates for those who had more books than she could sign. That would be a good choice if/when I ever become famous enough to need them. In the meantime, I'll sign whatever you put in front of me. We sold a few books, mostly to Lackey fans who wandered over. It's funny that I do 10 times more signing in halls and after panels than I ever do at my actual SIGNING. I don't mind at all, but it's so dull sitting there at the signing that I wish people would come by just to chat. :) From there I went to the reading, and that went really well. The room had a decent crowd, including a few people I didn’t know. As always, I had to duck out for the five...

I am too old to stay up until 4 a.m. and get up at 8:30. Just. Too. Old. My flunky for this show is Angelia Sparrow, who was kind enough to volunteer her services as “bodyservant.” That’s a new title for the person who gets me from point A to point Z, makes sure I do things like “eat” and “drink water,” and generally kicks my ass. Angelia woke me up at 8:30 to remind me that I volunteered to join Walking With the Stars. It’s an effort by Stu Segal to counteract the health-destroying aspects of con: get up a little earlier and go for a walk around the block. To entice the fans, Stu asks authors and artists and other famous people to walk, so the fans will exercise in order to spend time with us. It’s an excellent goal and I clearly remember volunteering as a “star.” So I fired Angelia and told her I was going back to sleep. Fortunately she’s impervious to being fired, because she watched me fire Dana several times last year and God alone knows how many times I fired Katie. I haven...

Thank goodness, the Kerlak booth was up and running before I even got there. My books are happily ensconced on the shelves, hopefully not to stay there long. Hello, book lovers! You can find me in the center of the exhibition hall, near the Troma Films booth. I will happily sign anything you put in front of me. I got into the hotel room with a minimum of fuss, which is remarkable. Now that I’m here and most of the nonsense is behind me, I find that I’m not all that stressed anymore. Maybe it’s because as I write this, I’ve spent the last couple of hours lounging around my exceedingly luxurious hotel room. I may quibble with the Marriott’s prices, but I must say, they know how to make a comfy room. It may be less comfy when the hordes descend, but that’s okay too. I wish I had money. They have a spa in this hotel offering all kinds of ridiculous body wraps and massage and facials. Just once I want to be rich enough to have all that kind of stuff on a trip. Alas, I’ll have to settle ...

THURSDAY This is the year of being broke. Okay, I’m usually broke. Especially at Dragoncon. But this year I have discovered new depths of poverty. And misfortune, as I discovered the key to my cash box has vanished, leaving the small amount of cash and a few checks inside inaccessible to me short of rolling over the damn thing with that cartoon squishy thing from ROGER RABBIT. Wednesday night I drove down to Nashville and crashed with my good friend Stephen. The starscape over the Land Between the Lakes is something to behold – the faint stars-between-the-stars you can only see when you get well away from the lights of civilization. It was almost worth how utterly exhausted I was post-drive. Thursday allowed me to sleep in, so I did. Then I drove from Nashville to Atlanta, which let me meander over the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains. Along the way I suspected my tires were soft due to excessive rattling, so I stopped at the Sam’s Club in Murfreesboro to fill up a bit. That...