Shaved Meats, Piled High: August 2019
Why Not?
What do The Mystery Box and psychiatrists have in common? They take August off.
Actually, I don't know if that's true of psychiatrists anymore. And maybe it's not even true of The Mystery Box. Who can remember 2018?
I am typing this on August 9*. The tour for Lady in the Lake ends tonight. This has been one of my most successful books, critically and commercially. If I were to do a Me, Me, Me section at the end of this newsletter as I usually do, it would be Officially Too Much. The book received outstanding reviews, most notably a New York Times Book Review from Stephen King. I was finally called to Valhalla, aka Fresh Air with Terry Gross. I was interviewed for All Things Considered and On Point. At times, it seemed as if I had taken up residence in New York magazine, where I was profiled, asked to detail my must-haves for The Strategist, and included in what I consider the best quadrant of its Approval Matrix (Highbrow/Brilliant). I made the national Indiebound bestseller list for the first time, ever.
Notice the lack of links above. The fact is, I haven't listened to any of interviews (yet), I've read my reviews only glancingly and I am, in general, trying to stay grounded. Having a 9-year-old helps. When I found out I had debuted at #13 on the New York Times bestsellers list, I was at a water park with her; a week later, when my book managed to hang on to the list at #15, I was poolside with my daughter in Houston, the penultimate stop on this not-at-all taxing tour. But a big chunk of it was done with my kid and that was, um, interesting.
I also signed a new contract for three novels, a book of essays and a collection of short stories. Sunburn won the Strand Critics Award, tying with Kate Atkinson. This makes me the only writer to win the award three times (twice in a tie). I published my second essay for the Fine Lines section at Longreads. I am taking calls with producers who want to talk to me about their creative vision for Lady in the Lake.
As I mentioned, I am writing this on August 9, the last day of my tour. It also is the night that the Orioles will celebrate the 30th anniversary of their "Why Not?" season, the year they bounced back after the disastrous, record-breaking start in 1988. It's also the 30th anniversary of the month I moved back to my beloved hometown to work at the Evening Sun. My father compared me to the pitcher Dave Johnson, a Middle River native who figured prominently in that dream of a season. A few months later, I would be handed the germ of an idea for a detective novel when a friend's boss yelled at me. Three years later, I would begin working on that book in earnest. I finished it in 1994, sold it in 1995, saw it published in 1997.
Several people, all well-intentioned I am sure, have advised me to enjoy this ride. I am. I readily acknowledge that this might be a career-high year for me, that I will never again enjoy this perfect storm of attention and sales. But maybe there are other surprises yet to come -- for me, but also, I hope most fervently, for so many outstanding writers I know. This has been wonderful fun. Most of the writers I know deserve a trip down the water slide, screaming "NUMBER 13" so it echoes and echoes through the plastic tube, to the bafflement and utter indifference of everyone else at the water park.
Why not?
Read/Reading: The Nickel Boys, Colson Whitehead; Department of Speculation, Jenny Offill; The Dutch House, Ann Patchettt; The Unknown Masterpiece, Honore de Balzac; The Man in the High Castle, Philip K. Dick; Mrs. Everywhere, Jennifer Weiner; How to Break Up With Your Phone, Catherine Price.
Re-reading: Scruples, Judith Krantz.
*And sending it out almost two weeks later.