DATELINE: Manhattan, July 11, 2007
THE EVENT: Literary Cage Match between Shane Gericke, Jason Pinter and Bill Cameron
It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, technically, a dark and stormy late afternoon. The sky was grey when I descended into the subway at Houston and Second at five o'clock. At six, with I surfaced at 42nd Street and 5th Avenue, the rain had started.
No biggie. I'm an Oregonian. I can handle a little rain. But since I'm not a New Yorker, I proceeded to head in the wrong direction. The venue for the Cage Match was on 44th between Fifth and Sixth, so I took the long block up 42nd toward Sixth, thinking that my target destination would be closer to Sixth than Fifth.
It was my fatal error. Not only did the New York Center for Independent Publishing turn out to be closer to Fifth after all, as I walked and walked and walked, the rain fell harder and harder and harder. By the time I was halfway to Sixth, my sanguine Oregonitude had been washed away by a desperate need for an umbrella.
"Sold out!" said one street vendor with a hand-lettered sign proclaiming UMBRALLAS $5.
"Buy t-shirt, you get plastic bag," said another. "Wear bag like hat."
I figured wearing the bag like a hat would mean the new shirt would get just wet too and besides, I'd look like a dork. But by the time I arrived at the NYCIP looking and feeling like I'd just crawled out of a pond, I wondered if looking like a dork would have been so awful.
The good news was I had half an hour to dry out before the reading. The bad was, um, how the hell was I supposed to dry out? I managed to wring out my t-shirt in the bathroom, which left me merely sodden. Then my brain kicked in and I dialed my daughter, who was coming up to the event by cab (smart girl) and who agreed to buy me the t-shirt I should have bought for the plastic bag myself.
Shane and Jason showed up forthwith, damp themselves. It was my first time meeting both, and we all hit it off immediately. I learned that even though it's spelled G-E-R-I-C-K-E, Shane's last name is pronounced YER-kee. (For the record, Jason's last name is spelled P-I-N-T-E-R and pronounced PIN-TER).
Folks were slow to trickle in, owing perhaps to the return of Noah outside. But soon enough I was delighted to see friends from Seattle Mystery Bookshop arrive, along with others who were in town for ThrillerFest. And, as special treat, Lee Child joined us. Lee is such a wonderful supporter of new writers, and it was a thrill for all three of us to see him.
My daughter arrived with friends from work, plus her boyfriend Jeff who was visiting from Portland. Once ensconced in my brand new dry t-shirt, (still moist from the waist down) I was ready to go, as was Jason and Shane.
I got to go first, which was a little nerve-wracking, but I had practiced, both alone and with an audience (my aunt sat through a reading), so I felt ready. I read chapter three from Lost Dog, and I felt like the reading went really well. Jason came after me, reading from The Mark—his main character, Henry Parker, is an Oregon native, by the way. Shane finished with a pair of readings from Cut to the Bone, and let me tell you, he was chilling.
In terms of a Cage Match, we all agreed that everyone won. Not very professional wrestling of us (no one got sucker slammed by a folding chair) but thriller writer types often turn out to be not nearly as dangerous as their protagonists and villains. The pieces read were all chilling, and the audience was very warm. I had a great, if damp, time. Why not a three-way tie?
Plus, I learned a valuable lesson. Next time, buy the plastic bag. I mean, t-shirt.
Big thanks to Janet Reid for setting up the event and to the NYCIP for hosting us.
THE EVENT: Literary Cage Match between Shane Gericke, Jason Pinter and Bill Cameron
It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, technically, a dark and stormy late afternoon. The sky was grey when I descended into the subway at Houston and Second at five o'clock. At six, with I surfaced at 42nd Street and 5th Avenue, the rain had started.
No biggie. I'm an Oregonian. I can handle a little rain. But since I'm not a New Yorker, I proceeded to head in the wrong direction. The venue for the Cage Match was on 44th between Fifth and Sixth, so I took the long block up 42nd toward Sixth, thinking that my target destination would be closer to Sixth than Fifth.
It was my fatal error. Not only did the New York Center for Independent Publishing turn out to be closer to Fifth after all, as I walked and walked and walked, the rain fell harder and harder and harder. By the time I was halfway to Sixth, my sanguine Oregonitude had been washed away by a desperate need for an umbrella.
"Sold out!" said one street vendor with a hand-lettered sign proclaiming UMBRALLAS $5.
"Buy t-shirt, you get plastic bag," said another. "Wear bag like hat."
I figured wearing the bag like a hat would mean the new shirt would get just wet too and besides, I'd look like a dork. But by the time I arrived at the NYCIP looking and feeling like I'd just crawled out of a pond, I wondered if looking like a dork would have been so awful.
The good news was I had half an hour to dry out before the reading. The bad was, um, how the hell was I supposed to dry out? I managed to wring out my t-shirt in the bathroom, which left me merely sodden. Then my brain kicked in and I dialed my daughter, who was coming up to the event by cab (smart girl) and who agreed to buy me the t-shirt I should have bought for the plastic bag myself.
Shane and Jason showed up forthwith, damp themselves. It was my first time meeting both, and we all hit it off immediately. I learned that even though it's spelled G-E-R-I-C-K-E, Shane's last name is pronounced YER-kee. (For the record, Jason's last name is spelled P-I-N-T-E-R and pronounced PIN-TER).
Folks were slow to trickle in, owing perhaps to the return of Noah outside. But soon enough I was delighted to see friends from Seattle Mystery Bookshop arrive, along with others who were in town for ThrillerFest. And, as special treat, Lee Child joined us. Lee is such a wonderful supporter of new writers, and it was a thrill for all three of us to see him.
My daughter arrived with friends from work, plus her boyfriend Jeff who was visiting from Portland. Once ensconced in my brand new dry t-shirt, (still moist from the waist down) I was ready to go, as was Jason and Shane.
I got to go first, which was a little nerve-wracking, but I had practiced, both alone and with an audience (my aunt sat through a reading), so I felt ready. I read chapter three from Lost Dog, and I felt like the reading went really well. Jason came after me, reading from The Mark—his main character, Henry Parker, is an Oregon native, by the way. Shane finished with a pair of readings from Cut to the Bone, and let me tell you, he was chilling.
In terms of a Cage Match, we all agreed that everyone won. Not very professional wrestling of us (no one got sucker slammed by a folding chair) but thriller writer types often turn out to be not nearly as dangerous as their protagonists and villains. The pieces read were all chilling, and the audience was very warm. I had a great, if damp, time. Why not a three-way tie?
Plus, I learned a valuable lesson. Next time, buy the plastic bag. I mean, t-shirt.
Big thanks to Janet Reid for setting up the event and to the NYCIP for hosting us.
2 comments:
no one got sucker slammed by a folding chair
Not even a good hair-pulling?
Jason said my hair looked liked a dead muskrat. Does that count?
(Well. Um. No, he didn't.)
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