Tod Goldberg

How To Approach Potential Employers At AWP

The annual AWP conference is kicking off in Washington DC on Feb. 2nd, so I took it upon myself to make a helpful public service message to those who might be looking for jobs. (This is based on a true story.) 

 

The Mystery Bookstore Felt Like A Public Trust

When my first book came out in the summer of 2000, I had one very simple dream: I wanted to sign it at the Mystery Bookstore. Why? Well, I'd attended maybe 25 book signings there over the course of my life (this was back when the store was located in West Hollywood, not far from the Beverly Center), including several of my brothers, and to me that would actually signify that I'd really, actually, published a book. So while I didn't have my launch party there -- that was held at the Bookstar in Studio City, primarily because at the time they would literally put your name up in lights on that great old movie theater marquee they have -- the very next day I signed in the store. At the time, the store was run by Sheldon MacArthur and he did me a huge favor -- one that in retrospect means even more now than it did at the time: He had me sign with Stephen Hunter, one of my favorite crime novelists, and who had a line out the door waiting for him. I sold very poorly that day compared to Hunter, but I would have sold even less if I were alone, believe me. But more than that, I spent an hour talking to Stephen Hunter! And Stephen Hunter bought my book! And he told the people in line to buy his book to buy my book! He was a pro and I was a drooling nobody and he made me feel, well, cool. But that's how it always was over the years at the Mystery Bookstore, even after it moved to Westwood and Shelly moved on and the store was moved into the very able managerial hands of Linda Brown and Bobby McCue and a new ownership group headed by Kirk Pasich and Pamela Woods. I've published 8 books since 2000 and I've done an event at the Mystery Bookstore for every single one. The Mystery Bookstore treated its authors like family -- in fact, I popped in just this Saturday to sign some stock and then stuck around for a bit because Linda heard a customer asking about writing conferences and pulled me over to tell her which ones were good/bad/contracts with Satan -- all of which makes today's announcement that the store's doors are closing on January 31st all the more upsetting: There just aren't a lot of bookstores that actually give a shit about both their customers and their products...which is to say the people who write the books. 

I made a lot of friends at the Mystery Bookstore over the years, met many of my heroes, and was thrilled to be able to bring my students into the store, too, to do readings. And every year at the LA Times Festival of Books, the Mystery Bookstore booth was the place to be -- there were always dozens of authors lingering around the booth at any given time, plus the half-dozen-authors-per-hour who they had signing there all day long all weekend long, to the point that if you stood there long enough, you'd see some pretty amazing things and hear a lot of great gossip. More importantly, the store fostered the sense between its customers and its authors that they could -- and should -- interact. At their annual parties, everyone mingled with everyone and the result was frequently that you'd find yourself deep in a conversation with someone who wrote cat mysteries, a random fan, and someone like Steve Cannell. It was that sort of place. The other truly odd thing about the store -- odd in a good way -- is that there was always an author in the store browsing the stacks. The photo above is of me and my brother Lee in the store during one such party a few years (and pounds) ago. And then the other photo is of Lee and I and Bill Rabkin from this summer, when we each signed our new books together.

I guess, really, I shouldn't be surprised that the store is closing -- a full service indie is hard to maintain, but an indie covering a niche market must be significantly more difficult to sustain -- particularly since the Borders in Westwood closed just this past Friday and that store was always filled with people, but not exactly people who were buying books. And that's the thing: there was no coffee shop inside the Mystery Bookstore, no sofas, just a few uncomfortable chairs and an epic selection of current and vintage crime fiction and a staff, including the above but also my friend Clair Lamb who moved off to the east coast but still came back to work periodically (now that should tell you something) and several others, who actually knew what they were talking about. (When I was there on Saturday, a woman walked up to Bobby and said, "My grandfather loves historical crime fiction, can you recommend something?" and he thought for a minute, said, "That's pretty broad, but let's go take a look at some titles I like," and off they went.) 

The Mystery Bookstore felt like a public trust. I'm sad to hear of its demise, but sadder, still, for the good people losing their jobs and even sadder for the readers who won't get the chance to shop in the store. It was a great place to buy a book.

 

The Reformed: Behind the Music

My second-to-last Burn Notice novel, The Reformed, comes out today, to be followed this summer by my last Burn Notice novel, The Bad Beat, so in honor of that, and because my ego demands that I tell you all every small, insignificant detail about my life, here's a bit of background information about the writing of the book. (If you'd like signed copies of the book -- or any of my books, for that matter -- I suggest you contact the fine people at The Mystery Bookstore in Los Angeles: http://www.mystery-bookstore.com/ They'll have signed copies after this weekend. And if you live in Los Angeles, I'll be doing a booksigning this Saturday at Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks at 2pm, along with my brother Lee, who'll be signing his latest Monk book.)

1. The client's name is Eduardo Santiago. He's a Cuban gangster who has been....wait for it...reformed. I don't know a lot of Cubans. But one I do know is the excellent writer Eduardo Santiago, author of Tomorrow They Will Kiss and a former student of mine. So when I started the book, I used his name as sort of a place holder for another non-Eduardo Santiago name. But then, after 300-some pages of him being Eduardo Santiago, well, he became Eduardo Santiago for good. Sorry Eduardo. 

2. There's a hard-as-nails-and-other-cliches-friend of Sam's named Chris Alessio. Chris and I went to elementary and middle school together and then I didn't seem him for 25 years. When I finally did see him, I found out he was damn near a professional paintball player and wrote extensively on paintball stuff for a variety of different magazines. So when I needed information about paintball markers and needed a hard-as-nails-etc bad ass, he became Chris Alessio. 

3. Julia Pistell, whose name appears in this book as a person who has had their identity stolen, went to graduate school with me and is one of the best humans alive. She happened to be visiting Wendy and me last January, when I was in the middle of the book, but didn't have a title yet. However, the fine people at Penguin needed a title and needed it right now, except that right now happened to be while Julia, Wendy and I were eating lunch at a deli in Palm Desert. So I said to Wendy and Julia, hey, anyone got a title? And Julia came up with The Reformed. (This was after The Godfather was rejected.)

4. I finished writing this book last March. I started it in December 2009. So, at that point, I'd read the scripts through the middle of season 3. I tell you this so when I get the inevitable email from someone asking me why X happened when Y happened in Season 4, I can remind them that Season 4 didn't exist when I wrote this book, even though it does now (which is why Jesse isn't in the book). Generally, as with all the books I've written in the Burn Notice series, I try to keep them evergreen so they don't work in lockstep with the seasons and can be read any time. 

5. There are swear words in this book. Just to clarify my position on you being offended by swear words: Oh, go fuck yourself. This isn't a kids book. Nut the fuck up. You don't like it? Don't buy the fucking book. Really. Have a great day!