Craig Johnson reading. There are many authors traveling across the
country this summer, trying to sell a few books. Anyone who'd like to post a word or two about their experiences, send your thoughts along.Here's Craig Johnson's thoughts as he reads from his new book, THE DARK HORSE. You know how to find it.
The Author-Man Cometh
I was sitting in one of those chain bar and grills next to one of those chain motels in Boise, Idaho--you know, the literal translation of La Quinta is next to Denny’s. I’d finished up a wonderful event at Rediscovered Books and was having a light dinner and a heavy beer. There were three traveling salesmen across the bar (this is not an intro to a joke) talking about how long they’d been out on the road, and I was starting to feel like I was in an Arthur Miller or Eugene O’Neil play. A heavy-set fellow with a handlebar mustache and a corporate insignia shirt was complaining the loudest. “A week and a half.”
The shorter guy next to him was commiserating, “Two weeks, and I’m starting to think that my wife and kids have forgotten what I look like.”
The guy in the ball cap who was on the other side of the beer taps joined in, “I’m doing the inland empire in one sweep; three weeks.”
“I’ve got you all beat.” I sipped my beer and watched as they studied me. “Thirty four days and three to go.”
The one with the mustache was the first to ask. “What’a ya sell?”
“Books.”
“What kind of books?”
“I write a series of novels about a Wyoming sheriff.”
The short one asked. “You actually write ‘em?”
“Yep.”
“And that’s all you sell?”
“Well, the book stores sell the books; I just show up with my pen and sign them.”
The ball cap spoke up. “How’s that goin’?”
I thought about The Dark Horse being number eight on the Bookscan mystery bestseller’s list (with Another Man’s Moccasins and The Cold Dish climbing back on), the Spur Award for best novel, an invitation to the National Book Festival in Washington, D.C., and most recently the Mountains and Plains Bookseller’s Association novel of the year. “Pretty well.”
The mustache jumped in again. “And you’ve been on the road for more than a month?”
“Yep.”
“That’s brutal.”
“Not really.” I sipped my beer. “I’m having the time of my life.”
Later, as they departed, I heard the mustache say under his breath to the short guy, “…Must be drunk. Nobody sane goes on the road for thirty seven days and enjoys it.”
I guess it all depends on what you’re selling…
The road goes on forever, but I’m back in the home state for a few dates, then back in California, and then back in Wyoming at the end of the month…
Sheridan, WY, Sheridan WYO Rodeo with granddaughter Lola, July 10-11 (private event)Lusk, WY, Niobrara County Library, 7 PM
Corte Madeira, CA, Book Passage Mystery Conference, July 16-18
Berkeley, CA, Mystery Salons, July 17, 2-4
Los Angeles, CA, Autry National Center of the American West, July 19, 2-4 PM
Gillette, WY, Hastings Books and Music, July 25, 2 PM
3 comments:
Holy cow, Lusk WY. I had lunch there one day in 2001, part of a driving vacation with my daughter, Virginia to Denver via the scenic route. We stopped in Luck on our way from Custer SD to Cheyenne, then down to Denver. Nothing but prairie as far as can be seen in any direction, then this little (population 1338) town.
I asked the woman who served us lunch why the town was even these. No water, no railroad intersection. She said it was about halfway from Cheyenne to Deadwood on the old stage route. Lusk was where they changed horses.
I decided right there driving and stopping and talking was my favorite way to travel, if you have the time. No way to learn something like that any other way. I imagined the stage coach going by all the way to Cheyenne.
Thanks for reminding me. Good luck with the book.
I'm pretty sure he will be at Left Coast Crime in Portland in a week and a half.
But he wasn't, sadly.
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