I’m the one in the middle, just in case you were wondering.

I now have in my hands the author copies of my first book, The Last Great Getaway of the Water Balloon Boys.  I can’t tell you what a great feeling this is.  What a beautiful hardback book.  As a former owner of a used bookstore, and one who’s sold a number of antiquarian books, I gotta tell you it’s a real pleasure to open this one up and see the words “First Edition” there on the copyright page.  I would have been fine with my first book being a paperback original, but it gives me an extra thrill for it to be a hardcover.

And if you’ve pre-ordered it, you too can hold it your hands . . . in about five days.

The author copies for my other collection, The Dinosaur Diaries and Other Tales Across Space and Time, arrived in the mail the other day.  Very happy to hold this one in my hands — eighteen of my best stories which originally appeared in magazines like Ellery Queen, Asimov’s, Analog, and Realms of Fantasy.

I also saw that Amazon just discounted the price $5.  If you haven’t ordered yours, you should do so today!

A special treat showed up in the mail the other day — the author copies of my collection, A Web of Black Widows and Other Stories of Love and Loss.

A very beautiful book — they really do a superb job at PS Publishing.  There’s two editions of this book available, the jackletless hardcover (pictured above), and the signed limited edition with a book jacket (only a 100 copies) that matches the cover on the front piece itself.  Both are actually limited print runs — only 500 copies total.  They’re available only directly from the publisher.

Who knows, maybe someday they’ll be worth some money.

As a teaser, here’s a blurb that appears on the back of the book, which is taken from the story “A Web of Black Widows”:

“You understand it’s forever, huh? Even if you get rid of it later, there’ll still be a scar.”

“I want a spider.”

“All right, it’s your body.”

He pulled out his sketchpad from underneath a pile of magazines that people used to get ideas. Grabbed an HB pencil from the cabinet of supplies he had mounted on the wall. He flipped open the pad to a blank page. “What kind?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Not a tarantula.”

“Okay. You like black widows?”

“I don’t know. What’s one look like?”

He sketched one for her. He had done them lots of times.

“I like that,” she said.

“Okay. Where?”

“On my tummy,” she said, and opened her robe.

Steven froze. Not much happened inside his van surprised him. People wanted tattoos in all sorts of strange places, and after years in the business, he had gotten used to it. But he had never seen a pregnant woman’s naked body in real life.

Buy yours today!

This one is from my driveway this morning.  Each year, about this time, the giant pin oak out front fires the first cannon of my annual battle with leaves.  It usually ends around, oh, February.  In between, there’s lots and lots of bins full of the wounded and the dead — er, leaves, I mean.

With a book and two short story collections soon out — and at the prodding of one of my publishers for an author photo that didn’t look like a bad Polaroid – I decided it was time to create a press kit.  Putting my wife’s Cannon SLR camera to good use, we headed down to a local park and spent an hour taking a few photos.  Actually, it was more than a few.  It was 250.  Yikes!  That’s right, it took 250 photos just to boil it down to three or four that were decent.  That’s why I’m not Kate Moss.  Well, that and I like to eat too much.  Plus the gender difference thing.  And, let’s face it, I have the face of a writer and not a male model – which, at the end of our photo shoot, I was actually grateful for, because I was completely exhausted.  I told the photographer I wanted to go to my trailer, but I got no sympathy.  I tell you, modeling is a grueling business. 

Anyway, check out the full press kit here.  It’s just the photos in various sizes and a couple different biographies, but I plan to add more in time.  You know, when I feel like doing more authorly things.

Our family dog, Mankato, passed away over the weekend.  It was simply his time, living to the grand old dog age of 15.  He was the best of dogs — tolerant and gentle, friendly and kind.  When I close my eyes, I can still see him sitting behind the counter of the bookstore I owned for a couple of years, rising to greet each customer.  And I can still feel, as the two of us drove somewhere, his wet nose pressing against my fingers as my hand rested on the gear shift — because, of course, he always assumed I meant to pet him on the head as he sat next to me and I simply didn’t aim well.  You’ll be missed, old friend.

It’s the uncorrected proofs, or bound galleys, of my first book.  It’s really neat to see it in near-book form.

Now I need to brainstorm some good writers who might like to blurb my book.  Anybody know Nick Hornby’s home phone number?  Just kidding.  No, really, does anybody have his number?

(Click picture for larger image)

I’m not bragging here, but not every writer has the benefit of a genius in his office — like I do, with good old Albert Einstein.  Especially a genius wearing a hat from The Cat in the Hat.

Actually, Albert was a gift from my parents, who bought him for me when I started a bookstore.  And when I sold the store, he was the only thing I took with me.  We’ve developed a good friendship.  He doesn’t say much, but that’s okay.  He’s a genius, so he doesn’t have to.