Scent bottles and other gun terms...

I love writing, but sometimes research takes the cake. I'm getting ready to start the second Pru Marlowe pet noir and have been immersed in the world of antique guns. In some ways this is silly: the collectible that appears in the first scene of this next book will probably not be seen again after page 30. But I want to get it right. And besides, when you start researching something esoteric like this, you uncover a whole world of experts and trivia. Did you know about scent-bottle powder holders? No, neither did I.

Happy Labor Day

morning coffee at the Moors Motel

Revisions and the restorative power of rock & roll

I'm re-reading Grey Zone this week - my editor loved it (yay!) but considering all the crap that went down this spring, she gave me a week to re-read/revise one more time. And I'm slogging along when, yesterday, I hit one of those passages where I wonder, "What the hell was I thinking?" Couldn't for the life of me figure it out.

Skip ahead a few hours: the Neighborhoods and Iggy Pop at House of Blues. Loving the Neighborhoods, who I used to go see in the '80s. The fact that they've stuck to it is proof that they're the real thing, artists, and the time has been put to good use. They know how to play. Then... Iggy. 63 and a little saggy, but still tough as nails. "Raw Power," wow. "I Wanna Be Your Dog" is transcendent. Mike Watt playing with his leg in a brace, the band just shredding. Wonderful.

And on my way out, I realize how to rework that passage. Sweet!