So, you’re coming to the Great Cactus Caper. And you already
know you’ll be seeing fabulous panels, fascinating interviews, and a lo-ho-hot
of books, right? [Ed. note: be sure you're registered!] But that’s not all. Here are five flavours of guaranteed great
stuff you might not even be looking forward to yet.
Number 5 Writers in clothes!
I type this in red tartan jammie bums, a pink fleece, and cream
furry boot-slippers (lavishly filthy and worn through in the soles from me trumphing
about the gravel yard in them). It’s pretty much the combat uniform of the
full-time writer. I’ve heard even Hank
Phabulous Ryan claim that she writes in sweats. Nancy Martin is on record as
saying if her house catches fire she won’t leave in uniform, on her own two feet. She’ll use the precious minutes
to change into something pretty, and be carried out—possibly unconscious—by
a firefighter. But in Phoenix, you will see writers in clothes with waistbands
and lapels. You’ll see zipped-up zippers and buttons through buttonholes. Of
course, not all will make it (Jess Lourey
will be in yoga pants pretending they’re slacks) but all will try.
Number 4 Wild Kingdom!
Granted, most of the writers at The Great Cactus Caper are
going to be yakking, laughing, hugging, and yes drinking. Think of it as a zoo. But [David Attenborough voice] look
carefully and you’ll see, here and there, in coffee shops around the convention
hotel and even in the lobby itself, a few dedicated writers ignoring all the
shiny objects and finding their own wild habitat for . . . writing. That great
silverback Tim Hallinan can write
at cocktail parties while lesser writers dance on the same table as his
lap-top. At LCC Monterey in 2014, William Kent Kruger could be seen
every morning in Starbucks, totally focused, while the likes of me wafted in
and out talking about boys and shoes. It’s amazing to watch that kind of
concentration. I mean, Kent is the nicest guy who ever walked this good green
earth, but would I interrupt him when he’s writing? Um, no.
Number 3. Daylight Vampires!
They call it the New Author Breakfast. And strictly
speaking, yes, new authors do get to
deliver a two-minute pitch of their first book to a huge room full of fans and
peers. And, yes, the books are all on
sale in the book-room afterwards. That’s the cover story.
Really, what’s going
on is that plump, glowing, dewy, debut authors enter the breakfast room and
dried-up, wizened old-timers scuttle in after them and sit near the front. An hour later, the debut authors leave,
slightly woozy and a bit lighter. And—what do you know—the old-timers
aren’t so wizened anymore. They’ve got a spring in their step and a bloom in
their cheeks.
It sounds borderline dodgy. But I’m willing to bet Mette Ivie Harrison and Loretta Ross were fine after last
year’s breakfast. Glass of tomato juice, bit of steak for lunch, and they were
fine . . .
Number 2. Books Being
Born!
This isn’t actually guaranteed but it’s quite likely. At
least once during the weekend, something will probably happen and the same lust
will light up all the writers’ eyes. There’ll be a short bout of thrashing and
a cloud of blood and someone will know what their next book’s about.
One time, it was Reed Farel Coleman plunging off the back of
a dais in a panel room. Fans were concerned. Journalists were composing copy.
But all the crimewriters—Sorry, Reed—were thinking: murder or suicide?
First of a string or personal motive? Poison? Poison dart? Then he stood up, brushed himself down and the night wore on.
Another time, two attendees of a—get this—60th
high school reunion going on in the same hotel had to be taken to bed in
wheelchairs by the bar staff because they were so monumentally lathered they
couldn’t walk. Yep, a husband and wife (presumably) seventy-eight years of age
drank a bottle of Jim Beam in their room before
they went out to the party. (I know because I asked Housekeeping. It’s research.)
Show me any writer who doesn’t want to explore what the frilly hat happened at
their high school all those years ago. Also, did you know bar staff have
wheelchairs to take you up to your room in? It was news to me.
Number 1. Sunshine!
On the 25th of February, it will be raining in
Oregon. When you walk round the corner
of a block in Manhattan the wind will howl at you like a lost coyote. It will
be cold enough to make your teeth ache in Chicago. And in Colorado—horizontal snow. But in
Phoenix, it will be 72F and sunny. Even
if you bring a potted bougainvillea with you on the plane and put it out on
your balcony, you won’t have to wrap it at night. So have a pedicure, pack some sunblock, leave
your mittens at home, and come to the Great Cactus Caper. I can’t wait to see
you.
