A busy, productive summer

It's been, um, (mumble-mumble) weeks since I last updated this blog, but I finally have a moment on a Sunday afternoon to catch up on what's been a very busy time.

Life is good in Albuquerque. Kelly's still enjoying her law-firm job after more than six months, and I've written a whole novel since PARTY DOLL debuted in February. Took me 10 weeks to write the first draft of STASH THE CASH, a novel about bank robbers who make a big haul only to have several people try to steal it from them. Lots of rewriting to come, but I expect to finish the revisions over the course of the summer.

My class in the University of New Mexico's Honors Program wrapped up in May, freeing up more time for writing. I had a great semester with some very bright students, and I'm looking forward to teaching "The New Noir: Contemporary Crime Fiction" next fall.

Sales of my e-books via Kindle and Smashwords continue to go well, and I've been experimenting with advertising the e-books through Google's Adwords program. Be interested to hear from any of you who might've seen one of those ads.

Yesterday, I joined Southwest Writers, and Kel and I enjoyed a SWW lecture on creativity by a local neuroscientist. I'm scheduled to speak to SWW next month about the e-book revolution, and I'm giving a similar talk to the local Sisters in Crime chapter on July 24. Also, I've been invited to be on a humor panel in November at the Tony Hillerman Writing Conference in Santa Fe.

One of the other authors on that panel will be Craig Johnson of LONGMIRE fame. Craig and his wife Judy were in town the other night for a booksigning, and we went out to dinner with them. Had a wonderful time. Craig is a natural-born storyteller, and he was a big hit with the standing-room-only crowd at Bookworks. We're looking forward to the TV premiere of LONGMIRE tonight.

June is typically the hottest month in Albuquerque, and we've been getting some smokey skies from that giant wildfire in southwestern New Mexico, but that hasn't stopped us from getting outdoors and going to cookouts, etc. Kel's planting flowers in our yard, and we both try to walk outdoors for exercise nearly every day. Our neighborhood near UNM is great for walking. Lots of trees and quiet streets, and the occasional roadrunner to keep you company.

We're looking forward to Summerfest and other Albuquerque activities over the next few months. But for now, back to those rewrites . . .

WEST COAST CRIME WAVE launches

I'm always delighted to announce the publication of a new short story. I haven't written that many over the years (the novel being my comfortable preference), and usually only produce short fiction when asked.

That was the case with this new one, "Surf City," which I wrote for my pal Brian Thornton, editor of WEST COAST CRIME WAVE, the new anthology from BSTSLLR.com. Brian asked if I had a West Coast mystery to contribute, so I wrote a story set in Santa Cruz, CA, where Kel and I were living at the time. (That's "our" beach in the photo.)

 
In "Surf City," a body washes up on a Santa Cruz beach with what appears to be shark bite wounds. As panic spreads, police Det. Kevin Brommer suspects a hoax. It's a fun story, and I hope you enjoy it.

The anthology also includes stories by such favorites as Terrill Lee Lankford, Simon Wood, David Corbett and Steve Hockensmith. I look forward to reading them all.

For more info about the other anthologies in which I've appeared, go to http://www.stevebrewer.us.com/.

Work, work, work

Now that we're fully relocated in Albuquerque, it's time to catch up on the paying work. Lots to report:

I'm busy promoting the three novels published in the last few months -- CALABAMA, THE BIG WINK and LOST VEGAS. Those novels and FIREPOWER, which came out a year ago, are $2.99 each via Kindle and Smashwords. All my other crime novels, including the Bubba Mabry series, have been marked down to 99 cents each. More info here.

Debuting next week is a new online anthology called WEST COAST CRIME WAVE, which includes my short story "Surf City." More about that this weekend.

I've started sketching out a new Bubba Mabry novel (working title: PARTY DOLL. What do you think?), and will begin the first draft soon. Plus, I'm bouncing around some screenplay ideas with a Hollywood friend. Nothing we can talk about yet, but lots of potential.

Now that we have a functioning mailing address, I'm again accepting manuscripts for editing and polishing. Albuquerque is a much bigger market for the one-on-one coaching I prefer, but I also take in manuscripts from afar for $3 a page. For more info, e-mail me at abqbrewer@gmail.com.

Lots of other reading to do, too. I'm teaching "Hard-boiled Fiction and Film Noir" at the University of New Mexico in the spring, and I haven't taught that class in nearly a decade. Time for a refresher course. I'm looking forward to being in the classroom again.

All this, and getting reacquainted with our New Mexico pals, too. This autumn promises to be busy and rich.

Resettled in Albuquerque

We will now end radio silence and report that the Brewers' move to New Mexico has been a success. We're unpacked and put away, so it looks and feels as if we've been in our new house much longer than, um, five days.

Our house overlooks Summit Park, in a leafy neighborhood north of the University of New Mexico. Within walking distance of both Nob Hill and UNM, where I resume teaching part-time in January. The place is exactly what we were looking for.

Albuquerque's been hit with some big thunderstorms this week, and it's clear our arrival has ended the drought. You're welcome, New Mexico.

Other truly New Mexican treats: incredible sunrises, green chile chicken enchiladas, a roadrunner bobbing around in our front yard, and the International Balloon Fiesta filling the skies with hot-air balloons. The Land of Entrapment certainly knows how to welcome its own back home.

BAQ to ABQ

Kelly and I are moving back to Albuquerque, NM, at the end of the month, and look forward to getting reacquainted with our many friends there.

We've found a wonderful house near Summit Park, within easy walking distance of the University of New Mexico, where I'll be teaching part-time, beginning in January. I taught in the Honors Program at UNM for several years before we moved to California in 2003, and they've welcomed me back. I'll teach "Hard-boiled Fiction and Film Noir" in the spring semester.

It's difficult to leave our oceanside cottage in Santa Cruz, CA, but we'd come here with the idea of spending a Year at the Beach, and the year is nearly up. I've done lots of work while we've been here (launching the E-book Empire and writing a new novel), but the whole year felt like an extended vacation. Just the break we needed.

Looking forward to New Mexico sunrises (no fog!), and spending time with family and friends.

Nest is never quite empty

I was digging around in a file cabinet in my home office when I found a cowboy tucked into one corner of a drawer. He's quite the frontiersman, armed with a rifle, a pistol and a knife, and crouched in a kneeling position perfect for sniping.

Been a long time since our sons -- ages 21 and nearly 19 -- played with little plastic cowboys. Wonder how long that cowboy has been waiting in that drawer for someone to rescue him?

You can't tell it from my stellar cellphone photography, but the cowboy is pretty detailed, with windswept bandana, fringed shirt and the words, on his base, "Made in China."

I'm keeping him on my desk, a reminder that my sons are never as far away as they seem.

Settling in

Back online after a week away for moving and unpacking and getting a new DSL hookup.

Kel and I love our new place in Santa Cruz. Each day, we've taken breaks from unpacking to explore the neighborhood. Some wonderful cafes and the beaches are great, but my favorite part is sunset on the rocky points that jut into Monterey Bay.

Nice view from up on the points. The other day, we spotted a pod of whales and a couple of sea otters, along with the usual gulls and pelicans and surfers.

Crazy busy

Weeks between posts here, but it's been such a busy month that I'm looking forward to Bouchercon this week as a place to wind down.

Bouchercon, the world mystery convention, is in San Francisco this year, and my wife Kelly and I are moderating panels on Friday. My 4:30 p.m. panel focuses on sex in mysteries. The panelists: Heather Graham, Lauren Henderson, Harley Jane Kozak, Rita Lakin and F. Paul Wilson. It don't get better than that, folks. Y'all come.

Here at home, we're still prepping for our move to Santa Cruz, CA. We found a 1930s bungalow within sight of Sunny Cove Beach. As Kel likes to say, here's our new front yard:


More later. I've got to go pack some stuff.

Clearance sale on Bubba!

We're packing for our upcoming move to Santa Cruz, CA, and I've still got three boxes of my own books that I must sell off. If you haven't sampled my comic Bubba Mabry private eye series yet, now's the time.

I have autographed hardcovers of SHAKY GROUND, DIRTY POOL, WITCHY WOMAN and MONKEY MAN available for $14 each, including postage. I've also got a number of paperbacks of BABY FACE, which was the second in the Bubba series, available for $5 each. Cash, check or PayPal.

To see cover art, descriptions, etc., check out my author website: http://www.stevebrewer.us.com/.

To order books or for more info, e-mail me at abqbrewer@gmail.com.

Open House on Sunday

A reminder: Realtor Patte Jelavich hosts an Open House at our 4BR house this Sunday, 1-4 p.m. The address is 3882 Tea Rose Court in west Redding, CA.

For details and slide show, click here.

Crowing from the (almost) empty nest

You know what I haven't been doing lately? Back-to-school shopping. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Our youngest started this week at Shasta College, but he didn't need any new school supplies or clothes. He had a pen, and he wore his usual hippie rags. We threw some money at him as he headed out the door, and that was about it. He stays at our house some nights, but that's temporary. He's pretty much on his own.

As most of you know, Kel and I are trying to take advantage of our emptier nest by selling our beautiful home in Redding, CA. (Price reduced to $400,000! For slide show, click here.) As soon as the house sells, we're moving to a place by the beach in Santa Cruz. Why? Here's why:

(I don't know the photographer, but he's got lots of awesome aerials at his website. Check it out.)

But enough gloating. For you poor souls who still have kids in school, check out the Home Front archives for a few laughs, including this column about back-to-school shopping. Enjoy!

Fun with Craigslist

In anticipation of our big move, I'm spending way too much time looking at rental properties on Craigslist. Because people do their own copy-editing on Craigslist, you sometimes find hilarious mistakes, such as the recent ad that began, "Basque on your sun deck. . . "

Here's today's find. In an ad for a nice apartment were the words "ceramic tile threw out the kitchen."

Ha-ha. We all know that's wrong. They mean "thrown."

Still here

It might look as if I've let this blog go dormant, but that's only temporary. It's been a crazy time around here, and some things are bound to get neglected.

We're still down-sizing our household for our anticipated move to an empty nest in Santa Cruz, CA. We've gotten rid of tons of stuff, and still have one shipment of furniture/furnishings going to a consignment store after someone buys our house.

The house has been on the market three weeks now. No buyer yet, but lots of lookers. Fingers crossed.

Amongst all this household tumult, I finished my latest work-in-progress, a crime novel called 'The Big Wink,' and sent it off to my agent. Now I'm learning about Kindle, etc., so I can make my backlist available for e-readers.

I'm still posting my "Rules for Successful Living" at least once a day on Facebook, so if we're not friends there yet, get on board.

More soon.

Buy my books

As we downsize our household for the big move to a place by the beach, we're trying to reduce our large inventory of books written by some guy named Steve Brewer.

My wife Kelly has set up a "store" at Amazon.com where you can order my books (including some that are hard to find), inscribed any way you like. Better we ship these books to happy readers than pay to move them to Santa Cruz.

To check out our "store," click here.

Autographed books make wonderful gifts. ;-)

Buy my house

As many of you know by now, we've put our home in Redding, CA, on the market. The real estate folks put together a neat slide show, and you can see it here if you're interested.

Our younger son graduates from high school on June 4, and our nest will be empty. Kel and I are planning to move to Santa Cruz, CA, and live by the beach. We both work at home these days and can live anywhere, so we decided to do the coastal thing, at least for a year or two.

Our house, with its palm trees and swimming pool and mountain views, has been the California Dream for the past seven years, a great place to raise the boys. But now it's time for a different dream. Just the two of us. A smaller place. A down-sized lifestyle. And no guest room.

Out with the old (back)

Yesterday was the day after our holiday company went home, so we put away the Christmas stuff and rearranged all the furniture. I threw my back out pushing a table around, so our sons did most of the heavy lifting. When you need furniture moved, it's nice to have a couple of well-muscled young men hanging around your house. You just have to catch them during the 45 minutes a day when they're both home and awake.

Speaking of back pain, guess who's planning a quiet New Year's Eve?

Furniture shopping tips

Move every few years, and you regularly face the need to adapt existing furniture to new spaces. You end up with strange combinations, or matching pieces in different rooms, or stuff stacked in the garage, awaiting use in future homes.

This migratory pattern has given rise to a popular home-furnishing style known as "eclectic." Eclectic (from the French for "mismatched bookshelves") means furniture purchased for previous houses, rearranged to fit current needs.

Furnishings put our personal history on display, and "eclectic" style lets us show just how haphazard our lives have been. This is how you end up with a hula-girl lamp on top of an antique commode, next to a waterbed, all sitting on a colorful rug apparently purchased that drunken night on the Mexican border. You accumulate such items over time. Like tattoos.

Eventually, you land someplace where you'll stay awhile and your thoughts turn to new furniture, maybe some that matches, maybe some that doesn't wobble or have big butt-dents in the cushions.

(The previous paragraph does not apply if you are a "guy." Guys don't care about butt-dents. Guys have two thoughts about furniture: 1) Is it arranged so that I can get to bed in the dark, drunk, without falling over something and breaking an elbow? And 2) Is my chair lined up directly in front of the TV?)

The problem with furniture shopping, as with most shopping, is sifting through too many choices. Too many weird products and funny brand names and unfamiliar terms like "eclectic."

We're here to help. Clip the following Furniture Glossary and take it with you when you hit the stores.

Furniture Styles and What They Mean:

Early American -- Spindly.

Primitive -- Splintery.

Santa Fe style -- Primitive, but brightly painted.

Country style -- Primitive, with gingham touches.

Mission style -- Nothing to do with the missionary position, so stop smirking. Square, wooden, uncomfortable.

Colonial -- Uncomfortable furniture designed by people who had the fashion sense to wear large buckles on their hats.

Contemporary -- Uncomfortable.

Modern -- Uncomfortable, with sharp edges.

Art Deco -- Uncomfortable, but shiny.

Shaker -- Uncomfortable, but in a penitential way.

Adirondack -- Uncomfortable, made of planks.

Mediterranean -- Wrought-iron.

Scandinavian -- Blond.

French Provincial -- Furniture with fancy epaulets.

Bombe -- Furniture with goiters.

Chippendale -- Elaborate furniture designed by male strippers.

Other Handy Terms:

Overstuffed -- Designed for fat people.

"Pottery Barn" style -- Designed for skinny people who live in apartments.

"Pier One" style -- Designed for Margaritaville.

Retro -- Old.

Antique -- Really old.

Rustic -- Really old and badly constructed.

Refurbished -- Old and broken.

Floor model -- New and broken.

Distressed -- Broken on purpose.

Ready-to-Assemble -- So broken that it comes as a box of loose parts, some of which are missing.

Now that you know the terms, you're all set to go shopping! Furnish your house exactly the way you want!

Just in time to move again.

Today's calls: Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob and Ann

An open letter to the people who formerly had our telephone number:

Dear Bob and Ann,

It's been a year now since we moved into our new house, and we're still getting phone calls for you. Sure, the number of calls has dwindled, but we continue to get one every day or two.

We want you to know you're on the minds of people here. They're still calling. We do our best to be nice to them.

It was strange at first. Day and night, the phone ringing, people asking for "Bob" or "Ann." Some days, we'd get calls from four or five different people, all seeking someone who didn't live at our house. You were getting more calls than we were.

We had to wonder: How long had the phone company kept our new number out of circulation before assigning it to us? (Clearly, the answer was "not long enough.") Who were you, Bob and Ann, and why didn't you alert people that you were getting a new phone number? How did you get so danged popular?

This wasn't your usual "wrong number" problem. If we said "wrong number" and hung up, the phoners would figure they'd misdialed and would call right back. They knew Bob and Ann's number, by golly, had it right there in front of them, and this was it. We learned to say, "Bob and Ann don't have this number anymore."

Most callers responded with the quick "sorry" and disconnect you'd expect. But some felt moved to quiz us. Where had Bob and Ann gone? Did we know a new number for them? They hadn't mentioned anything about moving away . . .

We felt these callers' pain, but we had no answers for them. We tried to find your new number, Bob and Ann. (We knew your last name, of course; all those callers had informed us.) But you weren't listed anywhere.

We told ourselves the problem would resolve itself in time. People would learn your whereabouts, and they'd stop calling us, looking for you. But the calls kept coming.

As the months went by, we started to feel a certain kinship with you, Bob and Ann, even though we've never met. We began to worry about you. How come nobody knew your new number? Were you getting word of all the medical and dental appointments the offices kept calling to confirm? Wasn't it dangerous to miss those appointments? Were your very lives in jeopardy?

We began to speculate on what could've happened to you. People don't just up and disappear, leaving no forwarding address or phone number. Had there been some terrible accident? An act of terrorism?

Was your vanishing part of some bigger secret? Had you fled town to escape a scandal? Were you dodging creditors? Were you in the witness protection program? Had you been kidnapped by a cult? Were you abducted by aliens?

We became so concerned, we even considered alerting the authorities (or at least the tabloid press) to your apparent disappearance. But we decided to write this letter instead.

So, Bob and Ann, if you're out there, let us hear from you. Tell us where you've gone. At the very least, give us your current phone number so we can pass it along to our callers.

You reached out and touched many people here. Your friends are worried about you. And so are we.

So give us a call, Bob and Ann. Please.

You know the number.

(Editor's note: Nearly four years later, and we still regularly get calls for Bob and Ann.)

House abuse

A new home is the biggest investment most of us make in our lifetimes, yet we regularly let others slash its value, right under our very noses.

I'm speaking here, of course, of our children.

We wouldn't let our kids play around with our stock certificates or our banking paperwork, but we let them run amok in our houses, doing so much long-term damage, we'll be lucky to make our money back when it comes time to sell.

Yes, the children have to live somewhere. And, yes, they're our responsibility, at least for the first 18 to 27 years. And yes, they don't mean to wreck the place and diminish its resale value.
But accidents happen: Boot holes in sheetrock. Bloodstains on carpet. Ceiling fans pulled out of their fittings by "Tarzan." Exploded toilets. The occasional small fire.

Turn some kids loose in your home and it will be transformed from a domestic showplace into a scuffed, scratched, soda-saturated dump faster than you can say "Martha Stewart." And your investment will be ruined.

Such damage has been much on my mind since we moved to a nearly-new house a few years ago. Our previous homes had been battle-scarred veterans that were well past retirement age. Perfect places, really, for rearing two boys. What was another spill, another chip in the plaster? It gave the house "character."

(This fit with our evolving philosophy on furnishings as well. Before the boys were born, we liked old cabinetry and rickety tables, items picked up in antique shops. But once we had kids, our house became the Place Where Antiques Go to Die. We wised up, and started buying heavy-duty furniture, stuff that could take a beating, with upholstery that would disguise spills and other forms of "character.")

But our latest house came to us in pristine condition, which meant I became a nervous wreck.
Our sons ran through the house, wrestling and crashing and throwing things, all the while dripping chocolate ice cream on the beige carpet, and I anxiously scurried along behind them, begging them to be careful.

The boys call such rambunctious behavior "horseplay." I see it as undercutting our investment.
Look, I tell them, we won't live in this house forever. Given the vagaries of career relocations and the yo-yo real estate market, we'll eventually sell the place. If nothing else, we parents will want something smaller when they go off to college. All of us must take care of the current house so that, someday, we'll get our investment to pay off.

My sons listen carefully to these explanations, nodding along, agreeing with every word. Then they race off to the other end of the house, crashing and wrestling, juggling ice cream and setting small fires.

I try to ignore the noise, but then I'll hear a loud thud against a wall. Or the violent slamming of a cabinet door. Or the thunder of oversized sneakers and the lightning of malicious laughter. Or the startling clank of a dropped toilet seat.

(Why, oh why, must they always slam the toilet seat? Are they mad at it?)

I'm on my feet in a flash, hustling to the other end of the house to put a stop to the playful destruction. The boys will pronounce me "no fun," but they'll halt their house abuse. Then I can go back to the sofa, confident I've protected our investment. Until the next thud/crash/clank/slam.

I'll definitely need to invest in a smaller place by the time the kids go off to college. I think they call it a "padded cell."

Pack up all your cares and woe

Psychologists tell us that moving is one of the leading causes of stress, right up there with divorce or the death of a spouse or having your beloved daughter announce that she's marrying a biker named Snake.

Those other stressors may occur only once or twice in a lifetime, but moving can happen repeatedly and stress results each time. Whether you are moved by professionals or by your drunken buddies who own pickup trucks, getting all your stuff from one location to another can strain your nerves.

Beyond the act of moving itself, there's so much to be arranged. You must set up new utility connections and bank accounts and lawn services. You must find new doctors and dentists and barbers and bartenders.

There's a huge learning curve when you move. Things you took for granted at your old address -- the all-night convenience store, the crazy neighbor, the location of the light switches in your house -- all change when you move. You have to find a new store, learn which switch turns on the kitchen light and which one grinds the garbage disposal, identify which of your new neighbors is the fruitcake.

Plus, you must find new places to store all your stuff. At your old house, you knew exactly where you kept, say, the toolbox. In your new home, the tools will be hidden away inside one of 743 mislabeled boxes in your garage. Good luck if you need a screwdriver.

All this arranging and learning and locating generates stress, so much so that moving can result in a "domino effect" of other stressors such as divorce or the death of a spouse.

Because my family has endured relocation without a divorce or anyone getting killed (so far), I now feel qualified to give you the following Helpful Tips for Surviving a Move:

--Lower your expectations.

Many of us approach a move with unreasonable expectations that all our stuff will arrive intact and will fit into our new homes. Instead, think of moving as a Darwinian experience. Survival of the fittest. If your favorite antiques are destroyed and/or lost in the move, then it was "their time to go." You can replace them with a new generation of furnishings. Perhaps something in stainless steel.

--Recognize that moving is stressful for the whole family.

Sure, the adults feel it the most. They're the ones who must pay for the move, get the new utilities hooked up, etc… But we must remember that kids suffer stress, too, and it may cause them to act out. Adults should be gentle with their children during these times. Otherwise, the kids might start entertaining proposals of marriage from bikers, just to escape the new, stress-filled home.

--Take care of yourself physically.

Eat right, get enough sleep, don't push yourself too hard. Above all, don't overexert while doing unaccustomed physical activity. When a couch potato starts tossing around 50-pound boxes of books, injury is sure to result. Remember this tip: You know the box you're lifting is too heavy if you can see your face getting red . . . from the inside.

--Keep your sense of humor intact.

Laughing your way through stress remains a good survival technique. Try to enjoy the absurdity of the situation. For example, all of us who have used professional movers have stories about how they carefully wrap and pack full ashtrays or trashcans containing smelly garbage. If you keep your sense of humor in such cases, there's less chance that you might go after the moving men with a box cutter.

During our last move, my moment of mirth came while I was unpacking my home office. I found in one box, carefully wrapped in layers and layers of protective packing paper . . . wait for it . . . a ream of typing paper.

This discovery caused me to roll on the floor, laughing until tears sprang from my eyes and drool dotted my shirtfront.

Yeah, I know, it doesn't seem so funny now. But it was just the dose of hysteria I needed at the time.

Must've been the stress.