me in the piazza

I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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Some days you eat the bear

Because you guys are here when I rant and whine, I wanted to tell you I had a damn good day today. Started out with a phone call from my agent, who's had my new book for a week, not that I was checking my email and phone messages every five minutes or anything. But every time you finish something, there's that possibility, until someone else reads it, that it's absolute unmitigated totally incomprehensible crap. I don't know about you, but with me the feeling it's exactly that grows stronger all the time, starting from the moment of done-ness, when I stare at the last line in disbelief, and then, when I start to believe it, with a sense of "Well, all RIGHT." Then I polish -- I've been rewriting all along, and done-ness includes final rewrites and polish -- and send it to my agent, or if it's a short story, to the editor who offered to pay for it. Then, in direct proportion to my distance from that moment, the feeling keeps getting stronger that I've terminally embarrassed myself by letting this garbage be seen by other eyes.

On this one -- THE SHANGHAI MOON, by the way, out sometime in 2009 -- I've had the benefit of my writing group, where they've read the first half (I write much faster than we meet) and they claim they like it; and of a read by Joe Wallace, a terrific writer and a guy who would have told me if he thought it was junk. Still, of course...

Anyhow, my agent says he loved it. LOVED it. LOVED IT! Or so he says. Not even any big notes. So it's ready to submit to my publisher. Wotta relief.

Then I had breakfast with another writer, a good friend from out of town I don't see very often. That was nice. Then I went to the doctor, had my blood pressure checked. I was by way of coming in from the cold -- I was ready for the drugs, etc. You've heard my whine on THAT subject, but I was prepared to face reality. Well, my blood pressure is 120/80. So if anyone asks you if giving up salted nuts and smoked fish -- okay, and canned soup -- works, you can tell them yes.

And then I got home and found my short story "Hothouse" has been chosen for this year's BEST AMERICAN MYSTERY STORIES, to be published this fall.

So it's been a good day.

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