Bad Abbott

Been cringing at all the photos of myself popping up on Facebook from the NoirCon crew, but I thought this photo taken by Cameron Ashley of me and Anthony Neil Smith pretty much captured the vibe of the whole weekend. Hell, my entire life. It's like that. Always. It'll be like that again come late winter when rumor has it, Mr. Smith will be doing the N@B thing again. Rumors. Rumors. Troubling rumors. Stay tuned. Oh, yeah, something about Kyle Minor too. Just eat your vegetables and stay in school. I'll letcha know when I do.

Over at Ransom Notes I'm listing my favorite holiday films. Mostly Die Hard. Die Hard mostly. And for anybody who comes here to link there, Tuesday's Ransom Notes piece were about writers I love whose exciting and singular styles have been hijacked and watered down by too many inferior artists. Listed Ken Bruen, Charles Bukowski, Kurt Vonnegut and Chuck Palahniuk, but probably could've kept going a while.

Attention all red-blooded American crime readers Megan Abbott and Sara Gran have teamed up in some kind of should-be-illegal-it's-so-perfect combo blogginess called The Abbott Gran Old Tyme Medicine Show. I'm there. Dig the name, dig the layout too. All retro-scandal-rag looking.

Thanks to everybody who participated in last week's drawing for a signed copy of Jonathan Woods' Bad Juju and congratulations Rod, who won. Because it's the Christmas season and to celebrate the Abbott/Gran bloggedy blog blog, this week I'll give away a copy of Megan's Die a Little and Bury Me Deep. So, again, just leave a message on this post to enter. And this week, two people win. Merry Christmas, ya ungrateful little shits.

Couple of projects I'm involved with giving me wood these days, though all I can share at the moment are the names Bardsley, Shea & Weddle, (in alphabetical order).