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 . . .

Happy holidays!

May you all be with your loved ones this Christmas season, and may the new year bring you everything you desire.

We're delighted to be back in New Mexico this year, and to have both of our sons (who still live on the West Coast) here for the holidays.

I've taken the week off from work after finishing the first draft of a new Bubba Mabry novella. Rewrites to come after Christmas, as well as planning, reading, etc., for the class I'll be teaching at the University of New Mexico, which starts Jan. 18.

This week's strange career news: Got contacted by a young filmmaker in India who's interested in making one or more of my books into movies in Hindi. Wouldn't that be a kick in the pants?

My bestseller for December comes as no surprise: SANITY CLAUSE, a funny Bubba Mabry mystery set at a mall at Christmas. The e-book is only 99 cents from Kindle, Smashwords, Nook, etc. It's not too late to give yourself a little gift!

Happy -- achoo! -- holidays

Dear friends:

I’d like to thank all of you who recently shared your germs and viruses with me. Nothing says "special friendship" like a dripping nose.

Thanksgiving weekend marks the traditional start of the annual holiday blitz of shopping and parties and cockles-warming. 'Tis the season when we work-at-home types actually leave the house and interact with other humans, and we can count on contracting miserable illnesses while we're out there.

(The word "holidays" comes from the Greek holidakos, which translates to "cold and flu season." People have known since ancient times that holiday gatherings were the best places to pick up rampaging colds.)

Home-office workers are extra-susceptible to these viral onslaughts. We’re not out there in the workaday world, regularly exposed to the latest bugs, so our immunity is suppressed. Viruses take one look at our pasty indoor faces and virgin nasal passages, and you can almost hear their evil little laughs: Heh-heh-heh.

Then, whammo, they attack.

We victims are like small children who haven’t yet been exposed to the world’s germs and viruses. This is why smart parents urge their offspring to roll in the dirt and make mud pies and lick the dog. Children need to collect all the resulting immunities. We adults lose our accumulated immunities if we never go out in the world and get a booster shot of germs.

(When I was growing up in the South, we called such people “shut-ins.” They were too elderly and/or infirm to leave their homes, and they always rated a special place in prayers. I remember, as a child, being very curious about the shut-ins. I couldn’t understand why people didn’t just go to the shut-ins' homes and let them out. Why were they locked up anyway? I was an odd child.)

Most of the year, we shut-ins get our viruses directly from our own children. Every weekday, the kids go to school, where viruses hang out in the hallways like juvenile delinquents, picking their teeth and waiting for a ride. Our children embrace these miscreants and bring them home, where they run amok among the household adults.

Here’s the unfair part: The kids barely get sick, but we parents will be laid low. My teen-age son brings home some dread disease, and he’ll have the sniffles for a day or two, maybe sleep an extra hour, and he’s fine. The same virus hits my puny immune system, and I’m groaning in a bed for a week.

This time of year, though, we hermits acquire our viruses first-hand. We go to holiday parties and family gatherings, and we shake hands and kiss cheeks and dole out big hugs. During these moments of unguarded human contact, the viruses leap over onto us and sprint right up our noses.

If you’re like me, you’ll recover from your Thanksgiving cold just in time to pick up a fresh batch of viruses at Christmas. Colds and flu truly are the "gifts that keep on giving."

So thanks again, friends, for sharing with me. I hope to recover in time to see you at the New Year’s party.

You might want to skip that midnight kiss.

L.A. comin'

The folks who are putting together the next Left Coast Crime conference ask that all us blogger types remind you to register for Booked in L.A., which is coming up March 11-14 at the Omni Hotel in Los Angeles.

Some of my favorite people are among the honored guests: Jan Burke, Lee Child, Bill Fitzhugh and Janet Rudolph.

I'll be there, too.

For more info, click here: www.leftcoastcrime.org/2010/

Y'all come

A reminder to my friends in the Redding, CA, area: I'm appearing at 1 p.m. this Saturday (10/3) at the Barnes & Noble store on Churn Creek Rd. I'll be signing books and talking about mysteries and the "Lonely Street" movie.

Hope to see you there!

Roll out the flannel

(Editor's note: I'm jumping the gun a little here, but the blustery taste of autumn we're getting in Redding made me think of this ode to flannel.)

That crisp snap in the air marks the arrival of our favorite time of year: Flannel Shirt Season.

During the hot months, we all go around dressed as if we’re on our way to Physical Education class. But in autumn, the flannel shirt replaces (or layers over) the ubiquitous T-shirt, briefly turning the whole nation into lumberjacks. During the seasonal window between cutoffs and heavy coats, the fluffy flannel shirt is the ideal garment.

Unless you live where it’s really cold and/or work outdoors, a flannel shirt is all you need on most days (though pants are a good idea, too). When you go outside, you’re usually only exposed to the elements for those few minutes between indoors and in-the-car and indoors again. Why bother with a jacket?

When it gets colder, a flannel shirt is perfect for layering, especially if you like the “grunge” look or own a skateboard.

Unless it’s a formal occasion, you never really have to tuck in a flannel shirt. This is important to those of us who are equatorially challenged.

Most flannel shirts have two pockets, often with flaps, giving the wearer room to carry around a lot of unnecessary stuff.

Lumberjacks are cool. Ditto Eddie Vedder.

Wearing flannel shirts indoors means you can keep the climate-control settings a little lower, and save on your utility bills. For further information, see “Domestic Harmony and the Treaty of Thermostat,” Lawrence F. Hongenecker, 1989.

Flannel shirts last a long, long time and always look pretty decent, right up to the point where your elbows poke through the worn fabric. And for another two years beyond that, if you wear the sleeves rolled up. You can cut off the sleeves altogether, but only if you’re willing to be mistaken for Larry the Cable Guy.

How do you know when a flannel shirt is too worn to go out in public? When passers-by keep trying to give you nickels. Time for that flannel shirt to take on a new life as a “rag.”

Flannel shirts were embraced early on by those of us who work at home. We don’t have to worry about a dress code, so we gravitate toward the most comfortable clothing. We recognized that there’s a reason why they make pajamas out of soft flannel.

Flannel shirts are legal pajamas. You can answer the door, run to the store, be seen by your children’s teachers, all while wearing your jammies. If people notice you’re rumpled, they’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. They’ll say to themselves: Maybe he’s a lumberjack.

The danger, of course, is when you start wearing the same shirt around the clock. If you’re already in your comfy pajama shirt, there’s really no reason to change for bed. Then you get up the next morning and, what do you know, you’re dressed already. This can go on for days. Pretty soon, you’re giving a whole new meaning to “grunge.”

Pair your favorite flannel shirt with sweatpants, and you never have to change again. Every day’s a round-the-clock pajama party.

Caution: You can wear that get-up out of the house only if you utilize drive-thru windows. If you see anybody you know, wave and zoom away. But don’t get out of the car. Nobody looks good in sweatpants. Trust me.

Maybe some flannel trousers, though. Loose, comfortable. Something in a nice plaid to match your lumberjack shirt. Wait, that’s pajamas again.

Note to self: Idea for a successful business -- Drive-thru Pajamas. Seasonal sales on flannel shirts. Hmm. Sleep on it.

Racing the clock

"Greetings, Agent Parent. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to finish a major work project, complete with Power Point presentation, while also driving kids to music lessons and the dog to the vet. Pick up dinner somewhere and have it on the table by the time your weary spouse gets home. Spend three hours overseeing homework, washing dishes and resolving disputes before falling into bed, exhausted. This Palm Pilot will self-destruct in 10 seconds."

(Cue theme music: "Dum-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum. Da-dum. Tweedle-dee. Tweedle-dum. You're late!")

Modern life has become "Mission Impossible." Working parents can't make a move without synchronizing our watches -- or, at least, our calendars -- and most days are filled to the brim.

To meet all our daily appointments, we need organizational skills and coordination and communication. We share responsibilities with our "team," assembled for their special abilities -- spouse, coworkers, carpoolers, cleaning lady, yard guy, babysitter, travel agent, in-laws. We schedule everything down to the exact minute.

And still we find ourselves zooming through traffic at the last possible second, turning a routine trip to the orthodontist into an action-movie driving sequence.

(That maniac you saw in traffic today? The one who nearly mowed you down with a minivan while trying to simultaneously drive, talk on the phone and discipline children in the back seat? Five will get you 10 they were late for soccer practice.)

Most of us have demanding jobs, chock-full of appointments and sales meetings and other time-wasters, and we speed through them so we have time left to do actual work. Quitting time gets pushed back, later and later, until it sometimes seems simpler to set up a cot in the workplace.

Things don't settle down once we finally do shake free; just the opposite. Our children have too many activities, all of which require transportation, typically all the way across town. We need family time and exercise time and laundry time and a few hours' sleep and, please, oh, please, just a few minutes to collect ourselves. Because tomorrow we do it all over again.

Everything must go like clockwork. Throw in a dental appointment or a flat tire or a special homework project or -- gulp! -- an unexpected business trip, and it all goes kablooey. Work goes unfinished. Dinner is forgotten. Children are left waiting at curbs, collecting resentment they can reveal to their psychiatrists years from now.

Families coordinate these impossible missions in different ways. Some use a universal calendar, where everyone in the family gets to note appointments and events. Others do everything electronically, sending e-mails and instant messages with constant updates (this technique has the added benefit of allowing family members to avoid each other). Some skip planning altogether, rushing around willy-nilly, everybody late all the time, until the parents keel over with heart attacks and the children become wards of the state.

At our house, we use a combination of methods. A technophobe, I use an actual paper calendar, where I write cryptic little notes to keep track of everything. My wife tracks everything by computer. Once a week, we synchronize our calendars.

Is our system working? Let's put it this way: If you see my minivan hurtling through traffic, you might want to drive up onto the nearest sidewalk where it's safe. Because here's what playing on my car stereo: "Dum-dum. Da-dum…"

Brand-new day

You often hear busy adults say there "just aren't enough days in the week" to get everything done.

The solution, clearly, is to add more days.

I'd suggest that we squeeze another day into our weekends. It could be a day for family members to go their separate ways, pursuing their individual hobbies, sports, etc. We'd call it Scatterday.

Got a better idea? Post your proposed calendar additions in the comments.

I'll gladly do it on Tuesday

Every workweek has its ebbs and flows, its slow days and hectic hours. Learning to balance busy periods with appropriate measures of dawdling is the key to being a productive, sane worker.

If you toil in a regular workplace, with a boss breathing down your neck, it's a lesson you learn quickly. But for the millions of us who work in home offices, the ebbs and flows often are of our own making, and it can be difficult to balance the need to work harder with the imperative of the nap.

A recent survey by the temporary staffing firm Accountemps found that Tuesday is the most productive day of the week in most offices. Tuesdays were picked by 48 percent of the executives surveyed, followed by 26 percent who said Mondays were most productive.

Those numbers fit with past studies that show that Mondays are filled with meetings that keep employees from getting much done. By Tuesday, workers know what's required for the week, and they get busy. But things tail off from there.

Only 9 percent of the respondents said Wednesday, the traditional "hump day," was most productive. Thursdays were named by 5 percent and a mere 1 percent of executives selected Fridays. It is believed that those executives misunderstood the question.

(Eleven percent of the executives weren't sure because they spend every day at the golf course.)

Efficiency experts say workers and their bosses should pay attention to these variations in productivity because it will help them manage the flow of work. If you know, for instance, that Tuesday is your most productive day, you might want to schedule actual work for Tuesdays, setting aside meetings, golf and other distractions for later in the week.

For those of us who work at home, the equation can be more complicated. The tempo of our workweek varies greatly and often is upset by extraneous forces, such as children.

Our schedules are flexible, of course. That's one of the reasons we choose to work at home. But too much flexibility and, the next thing you know, you're hammering away at 3 a.m. Sunday to meet a deadline.

The secret to keeping the work flowing lies in scheduling. For instance, I keep a weekly planner on my desk. Everything I need to do, from important meetings to vacuuming, goes on the planner. As each item is accomplished, I scratch it off. This gives me the satisfaction of accomplishment, and guarantees that SOMETHING gets done around here before the week trickles away.

Looking back over my planner, I see that Tuesdays are my most productive day, too. At least that's the day with the most scratches. I can't read them anymore, but we'll assume all those black marks denote actual achievements.

At home, Mondays are shot because they're gobbled up by housework. The kids are home on the weekends and, by Monday, the house resembles a supermarket after an earthquake.

Wednesdays are no good because one of my sons gets out of school at 1:45 p.m. on Wednesdays. Poof, the afternoon vanishes.

Thursdays are the only days I work outside the home -- teaching a university course -- so nothing gets done at home on those days.

Fridays? Well, Fridays are as useless for me as they are for regular office workers and executives. And I don't even play golf.

With our flexible schedules, we stay-at-home types can always work on Saturdays and Sundays, but only in the wee hours when everyone else is asleep. There's no concentrating when the kids are around. It's like trying to work inside an automatic car wash.

Distractions are plentiful during the workweek, as well. Certain chores -- laundry, housework, buying groceries -- must get done, and they all take us away from our desks. Then there are the unexpected disruptions -- illness, car trouble, plumbing problems -- that can eat up entire days.

Looking back over the weeks in my calendar, I can see the wax-and-wane of work, the distractions and the emergencies, the lost Fridays. And I marvel at how busy I stay throughout every week.

It's a wonder I ever get any time to nap.

(Editor's note: The schedule is different these days, but the result is pretty much the same. Still not nearly enough nap time.)