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Blog Archive February 2010


I am trying to wrap my mind around the almost hysterical, obsessive need for people to become a published author. Mostly, I suspect, it is like one of those twist off caps on a cheap bottle of wine where the threads don’t quite catch right. There is a concentrated effort to get the cap off. More simply, getting into the publishing racket is another example of our need for acceptance in the crowd of strangers. We live in age where many people wish to stand out apart from the crowd as an accomplished worthy, special word genius. The problem is the number of people who want to stand out by writing books has become larger than the crowd that read and buy books.

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Posted: 2/26/2010 1:00:23 AM 


Criminals and Terrorists

Imagine you wake up in the morning and open the curtains. It is another ordinary day. Traffic is moving. People are walking along the streets. The street vendors are behind their stalls. Then you open your email because everyone knows that is absolutely one of the first things to be done in the morning. It is like Christmas Morning. Who has left a little present under the tree?

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Posted: 2/18/2010 9:48:33 PM 


New Vincent Calvino novel

Yesterday I finished the first draft of the new Vincent Calvino novel.

This one is titled: 9 Gold Bullets. Set in New York and Bangkok.

Publication date: January 2011.

Posted: 2/16/2010 3:29:06 AM 


The Mysterious Visit of Cakes Copeland

Several times a year I meet authors who are passing through Bangkok. As Bangkok is a pass through kind of place. Ever so often one of these encounters leaves a lasting impression. For instance, Mr. Cakes Copeland internationally acclaimed author of the series that included the Number 1 bestseller The Ice-cream Lady of Angkor Wat, was a recent guest.


Read more: http://www.internationalcrimeauthors.com/

Posted: 2/11/2010 9:58:30 PM 


Passage to India

As we drove to the waterfall through the hardscrabble Rajasthani land, all scrub, desert, barren hills, the road passed through small villages. In between were stone fences snaking toward the distant hills.

My guide, Mr. Ajit, sat upfront with the driver, and as we came up on a mini-bus with a couple of men riding on top, he’d half turn in his seat, “That’s India.” A few minutes we tailgated a van packed with passengers, two men balanced on the back bumper, holding on for dear life. “That’s India,” Mr. Ajit said. The more squalid, inconvenient, and crazy, the happier it seemed to make Mr. Ajit. As it reinforced his view, that I was not receiving some burnished image of the true India.

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Posted: 2/5/2010 3:49:52 AM 



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