Wolves, Honey Buckets and Wanted Posters

First day in Aniak. Click the link to be taken to my Alaska blog.

The Fat Bird Has Landed

First Alaska post over at Alaskan Misadventures


Tata,
Donna

Leaving on a Jet Plane

This weekend was the Mannslaughter and Mayhem event organised by the charming Chris Ewan, over in the Isle of Man. I was as nervous as anything - especially as I was doing the event with Allan Guthrie and Stuart MacBride who are both everything I'm not - funny, articulate, quick witted, intelligent, male. However, Bob Harrison of Manx Radio who was interviewing us was really nice and didn't ask too many difficult questions, and the audience were kind enough to laugh. I managed to get through the whole thing without vomiting, which was a surprise to me and a relief to Stuart and Al. We signed books afterwards and I actually signed books for people I didn't know - it was a total thrill.

On Sunday, we went for lunch with Chris and his lovely wife Jo (who's a complete star - in every sense of the word - loved the seal costume, Jo, it was really convincing :o) ). Over lunch, Chris taught us to pick locks - much to the consternation of the other people in the restaurant, who clutched their belongings very carefully. We had a leisurely lunch and lots of laughs (if you ever see Chris, do ask him about his boat trip along the canals of Amsterdam, but make sure you're not eating anything at the time).

Afterwards, Chris showed us around the island. Despite the fact that he is married to a history teacher, his knowledge of history is slightly sketchy. However, it is better than his maths. This post is accompanied by a few pictures - one shows the beautiful scenery I was looking at while Ewan (my partner) and Stuart were gazing lovingly at each other, and while they were all doing something important on their phones (checking the football scores, looking at porn, buying The Idiot's Guide to Arithmetic on Amazon, drooling over the shoe pages at Marks and Spencer) - I'll leave you to decide who was doing what by the looks on their faces.

Al And Stuart were due to fly out at 7.30pm, and Ewan and I at 9pm. Al and Stuart took off in sunshine. Half an hour later, a thick fog had descended. It felt as though we were sitting in the middle of a James Herbert novel. It was no surprise when our flight was cancelled. They sorted out a hotel for us overnight and we walked to the hotel with a lady who was supposed to be on our flight. As we walked over she told us why she had been in the Isle of Man.

"My grand-daughter was being presented with a certificate for a writing competition and there was an event at the Erin Arts Centre. It was very good, although I'm a little hard of hearing and couldn't hear the lady," she said.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss anything, she was rubbish."

"It was you!"

Ann is a really nice lady and we had great fun chatting to her. When we turned up at the airport the next day I spotted her reading OLD DOGS, so I had to snap this picture. By the way, I should point out that the bruise on Ann's face is nothing to do with me - I did not force her to read the book, I promise. As I left her to it, she leaned forward and said "I really liked the shite sandwich." (She was, needless to say, referring to something in the book, rather than the offerings in the cafe at Ronaldsway airport (which, by the way, has the friendliest staff of any airport in the world)).

I'm off early on Wednesday morning to go to Alaska - woohoo! So there won't be another post before I go, as tomorrow night I have to try and squeeze two suitcases full of stuff into one suitcase and work out how to wear ten layers of clothes on my flight over. Hopefully I'll be able to post while I'm there. If I do, it will be over at Alaskan Misadventures, but I'll try and remember to post a link here. Mum - if I can't post, it means I can't get a signal, not that I've been eaten by a bear, OK?

Before I go, a few links.

A great review of Allan Guthrie's SLAMMER over at the most excellent PSYCHONOIR. And Sea Minor with a review of Allan's KILLING MUM.

Chris Ewan's GOOD THIEF'S GUIDE TO VEGAS is due out soon. And my copy is coming with me to Alaska.

Lynda's Book Blog reviews Ken McClure's A WHITE DEATH, A Bookish Way of Life blog on Alexander McCall Smith's DOUBLE COMFORT SAFARI CLUB, Joe Barone on M C Beaton's AGATHA RAISIN AND THE VICIOUS VET and Seacoast Online on Denise Mina's STILL MIDNIGHT.

Finally, Ian Rankin on his secret Edinburgh.

My Dad Reviews...Blue Genes - Val McDermid

The usual reminder first of all of my Dad's tastes:

DISLIKES: romance, books that have too much swearing in (I guess that's my Dad not going to read my next book either, then - I thought it was just my Mum I had to keep away from it). Also doesn't like horror, and books with vampires, pterodactyls and the living dead in them. Also, something called an ungoliant. No, I have no idea either - I think my Dad has been at the sherry.

LIKES: thrillers, spy novels, war stories and books with elves in (the elves can swear their little heads off as far as he's concerned). Oh, and maps. He bloody loves maps. If you ever meet him, for goodness' sake don't ask him for directions. Not even to the bathroom.

PREFERS: Philip Marlowe to Miss Marple, Inspector Morse to Homicide.

BLUE GENES - Val McDermid

Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: March 1999
First Lines: 'The day Richard's death announcement appeared in The Manchester Evening Chronicle I knew I could not postpone clearing the mess any longer.' *

The story involves Kate Brannigan, a female private investigator. Set mainly in Manchester, with side trips to Leeds, it tells of three investigations. Two con artists are ripping off Joe public in a memorial scam, Kate's boyfriend - who is an agent for a rock group - gets her to look into a problem his band is having, and her best friend Alexis who is a lesbian is worried that a murdered doctor has set her and her partner up as blackmail targets.

Kate's investigations into all three cases uncover a web of intrigue and deception second to none. The characterisations in all cases are believable, the plots are realistic and what could be expected in any city or town, and are believable. There are a few medical references, but not too involved.

I enjoyed the story and how the characters developed as I read further, there was not a dislikeable one in the main thread, however the two side threads contained people of very questionable morals. All told, a very readable book. I shall look for other books by Val McDermid especially those which feature Kate Brannigan.

A note to my Dad: Can I also suggest that you check out her standalones - I think you'll really like those (especially A DARKER DOMAIN, A PLACE OF EXECUTION and THE DISTANT ECHO.

* By the way, when I asked my Dad what the first lines were, this was his response: 'The first lines are---" The day Richard's death announcement appeared in The Manchester Evening Chronicle I knew I could not postpone clearing the mess any longer". Get the book if you want to read any further.' Cheers Dad (stroppy git :o) )

And now, I am off to the Isle of Man for the weekend for this. So have a lovely weekend, and feel sorry for me as I vomit nervously before the event. Oh, sometimes I wish I was articulate and scintillating.

A Girl's Guide To Shopping For Alaska

145 assorted lollies and sweets - check
49 assorted chocolate bars - check
32 mini packs of Cadburys Animals - check
14 children's books - check
8 packets of shortbread - check
85 ballpoint pens - check
9 notebooks - check
7 sets of coloured pencils - check
3 sets of ballpoint pens - check
4 packets of fudge - check
Something to keep bears away - errrrrr, no - nothing but my scintillating personality.

I'm heading off next Wednesday so I'm hoping flights will be back to relative normality by then. Both Alexander McCall Smith and Ian Rankin have, unfortunately, had to cancel events. This Saturday, Stuart MacBride, Allan Guthrie and I are going to the Isle of Man for the Mannslaughter and Mayhem event organised by the lovely Chris Ewan. We're supposed to be flying but have a back-up plan that consists of trains, boats, cars, horse and carriage, pedalo and tandem. Lin Anderson will have no such problems as she visits Perth's AK Bell Library in May.

A review of Ian Rankin's KNOTS AND CROSSES. And one of Denise Mina's SANCTUM.

A Sherlock Holmes game is coming to an ipad near you.

And, finally, thanks to those who asked how the Write, Camera, Action workshop went- it was really good fun. I was allocated a great director and two brilliant actors. It was really nervewracking at first but the scene developed, the actors added little bits of their own, and when it was performed in front of the audience it got a fair few laughs. And I got both Razzle and BUSES back at the end of the night. Result :o)

In Which Your Humble Narrator Purchases Some P-O-R-N

I mentioned a month or so ago that I went to an event called Write, Camera, Action - an excellent workshop which puts together writers, directors and actors, to work on a 5 minute script. At the end of it I e-mailed Linda, who organises it, to ask what you needed to do if you wanted to workshop a piece "for some time in the future,"I said. "I'm just enquiring for future reference," I said. Well, I'm not sure how it happened, but I managed to find myself on the schedule for the next WCA. Which is tonight. So I had to turn a scene from OLD DOGS into a script, to be worked on and acted in front of everyone as a mini-play. I chose a scene from the middle of the book. It's not giving anything away to say that after hours on a Saturday night, most the main characters end up in the museum where the gold dogs are on display. They're not all there for the same reason, but none of them are there honestly. Two of the characters are a pair of neds, who want the dogs so that they can finance the purchase of their own boozer. They are hiding in the toilets. At this point in the book the scenes cut between the characters quite quickly, so I took all the scenes in which they appear, changing it a bit, and made one scene out of it.

In the five page screenplay - although not in the book - to pass the time I have one of them pulling out a magazine called Big Jugs. Five minutes later the other one pulls out a copy of Butterflies and Moths. You can take props to Write, Camera, Action, so I decided I needed two magazines. I was going to get Ewan to go and get one of them for me (not Butterflies and Moths, obviously - that would completely destroy his street cred). Only I forgot. So that left me with a bit of an embarrassing lunchtime to look forward to.

I did ask a couple of male work colleagues if they would go for me. One of them just looked at me as though I was out of my mind. The other told me that he would do many things for me, but that buying dirty magazines was not one of them. So, no further forward, but with a face as red as a spanked bottom, I set off for a newsagents that I never normally go to. Operation Scud Mag was underway. Only to be abruptly aborted as I walked into the shop to be confronted by a group of schoolboys.

I turned tail and walked back out. There was another newsagents just along the road so I popped in there. Mercifully quiet this time. I glanced up at the top shelves. There was my target. Lock and load. I reached out an arm to pick something titillating off the shelf, when what did I hear but "Oh, hello, Donna. How are you?" Foiled by the wee woman from accounts.

"I'm...in the wrong shop," I said, and scurried out. Well, what are you supposed to say when you are caught in the act of buying porn? "I'm just in for my jollies"? "I only read them for the articles"? "Whatever happened to Big And Bouncy? I haven't seen that for ages"? No one was going to believe "It's for a play," so there was no way I was going to try that one.

My next try was in a newsagents I go to occasionally. "Awright, hen," said the shopkeeper. "The usual, is it?" I just nodded, and came out with a packet of extra strong mints and some Askits.

So I decided to go to the big W H Smith at Central Station, on the grounds that it would be anonymous and I could do a swift in and out mission. There are shelves and shelves of magazines in W H Smith. As I was trying to suss out what was what, I noticed a strange phenomenon. Women would walk over to the shelves, look briefly at what was on offer, then pick up the latest copy of Vacuous Celebrity or Woman and Kitchen or Let's Knit! and then head up to the counter to pay for it. Not so the men. They were all bloody standing around reading about football, or computers, or cars. Not buying the magazines, just standing there. Right in front of my porn.

But I now had my plan. A quick survey of the shelves for a Butterflies and Moths type magazine produced BUSES (which is, apparently, the world's biggest selling bus magazine since 1949 and came with a 16-page Diecast and Model Bus supplement. In other news, the Metroline Dennis Dart SLF/Plaxton Pointer B27D is replacing the Dennis Dart SLF/Caetano Nimbus on route 35 and I unfortunately missed London Bus Day on April 18th). I picked up BUSES and walked over to put Operation Scud Mag into play. I pretended to be looking intently at the football magazines on the shelf below, then reached up an arm and pulled one off the shelf. Five bloody others fell.

Two men hurried to help a damsel in distress, saw what it was that had fallen and backed away in horror. "It's for a play." I mumbled, neatly replacing the fallen magazines by throwing them onto the top shelf, before scuttling off.

I got into the queue, hiding my new copy of Razzle in between the pages of BUSES. Then I hid Buses underneath my arm. I wasn't actually sure which one I was more embarrassed about buying. The counter was staffed by a bloke and a young girl. 'Please don't let me get him, please don't let me get him, please don't let me get him,' I prayed to the porn gods. "Next, please" said the male assistant. I plonked my magazines down on the counter. He looked at me as he picked up Buses and rang it through. I shrugged. His eyebrows raised as he picked up Razzle. "It's for a play," I said through gritted teeth. "Oh, aye, hen, I'll just bet it is." He didn't even give me a brown paper bag to put my shame in. Luckily, I'd brought my own, just in case.

To add insult to injury, when I got back to the office, the colleague who had looked at me as though I was mad said "Did you get it?"

"Yes."

"Can I get a wee look at it then?"

Cul-cher, Cul-cher - All Weekend It's Cul-cher

It's been a cultural weekend here in sunny Badsville. First of all the marvellous Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at the Barrowlands Ballroom. It was one of the best gigs I've ever been to. Apart from anything else, the band seemed to be enjoying it themselves - they were on for two hours, and even ended up taking requests at the end. Sorry - I can't do a poncy gig review - just take my word for it, it was bloody brilliant. We started off at the edge of the mosh pit, but by the end of the gig we were somehow in the middle of it. I was minging when we came out. BRMC played most of the new album, plus my favourites of their earlier stuff, including this one, my all time favourite. When I go into work having been listening to that one on my ipod, my colleagues all say "Oh, no, watch out, she's been listening to those Motorcycle boys again." For anyone who's never heard BRMC before, this might give the wrong impression, but my Mum likes them (yes, dear reader, my Mum will not read my books(that's her, making a sour face at it), due to all the swearing and nastiness, but she likes dirty, sleazy rock music. She is also a big fan of The Cramps and does the psychobilly chicken strut to I Ain't Nuthin' But A Gorehound (although she does call it the 'turkey trot', but you can't have everything, I suppose).

On Saturday we went to see a great independent Scottish film called Crying With Laughter. It's about a stand up comedian called Joey Frisk who has a problem with drugs and alcohol, an ex-wife who thinks he's a waster, and a landlord who's about to evict him. Joey gets his own back on his landlord as part of his stand-up comedy routine by threatening to kill him in front of an audience. When the police turn up to arrest him the next day for GBH, Joey has no memory of the night before. To add to the mystery, Frank - one of Joey's old school friends, although Joey doesn't remember him very well - has contacted him out of the blue, and wants to arrange some sort of reunion. The film starts out lightly and gets gradually darker and more sinister. Stephen McCole, who plays the lead character, is brilliant. Crying With Laughter won a BAFTA and rightly so - if you get a chance to see it, do so.

Gleeful moment of the weekend - I went to Waterstones in Sauchiehall Street to buy some childrens' books to take to Alaska with me and while I was in there, I nipped up to the crime section for a wee browse. And look! Look! I didn't even feel slightly embarrassed grabbing my iPhone and taking this photo. Actually, it was all I could do to stop myself grabbing a passer-by and asking them to take one of my shiny, beaming, football-shaped face (that's soccer, dear American reader) next to the shelf.

And now, on to the proper news. First of all, Alexander McCall Smith reveals that he sent his first manuscript to a publisher when he was eight.

Congratulations to Craig Russell, who sells two new Glasgow thrillers to Quercus, and to Aly Monroe who has signed a contract for two new Peter Cotton books. Excellent news.

Canada.com reviews Philip Kerr's IF THE DEAD RISE NOT. And The Scotsman reviews Lin Anderson's FINAL CUT.

Christopher Brookmyre is appearing at the Ayr Festival in September.

Interviews with the lovely Ray Banks are always good fun, and this one with the charming Byker Books guys is no exception.

More on the Irvine Welsh film, The Magnificent Eleven.

The Independent on Sunday asks if you can judge a book by its cover. And, on the subject of covers, Karen over at Eurocrime remarks on the number of angels on covers these days.