I’m getting a late start tonight because I got caught up in Justin Verlander’s almost no-hitter. Since it’s later, and Starbucks will be closing sooner than I need to be out, I’m working at my favorite all night diner, Zack’s in Plymouth. Becky and I had our first date here so it’s always been special to me, but it’s also everything I love in a diner. Wood paneling everywhere, laminated tabletops with business cards underneath and grease everywhere. It’s easy to imagine I’m clacking away in the Village in New York City or off Sunset in LA instead of my boring suburb. When I’m here though I always feel like I should be writing in notebooks instead of using a laptop, but I can’t work that way on novels so there you go. The only thing that could make this place perfect would be if they didn’t have internet access, but it’s slow enough to prevent any whole distractions while I try to get stuff done.
And speaking of distractions, I started the Ace Atkins Spenser novel yesterday and I’m happy to report I felt no desire to abandon my current project and jump back into the PI novel waters. In fact, there were several passages where I cringed and was happy to be working on a project where I don’t need to have any knowledge of police procedure or forensics or reality even. Reading another writer do Spenser brought my problem with PI novels into crystal clear perspective. I don’t want to write PI novels. I want to write Spenser novels. I have no desire to bring anything new to the table, I just want to write my own version of Spenser novels. It’s kind of like how I never really wanted to be a sitcom writer, I just wanted to be a sitcom writer for Friends. So you can all breath easy that the publishing goodness that is my current novel will continue to trek toward it’s full destiny, whatever that may be, unhindered by the albatross of faulty expectations for my career as a PI writer.
I’ll have a bigger review of Lullaby when I’m finished, but for right now I’m quite happy with it. Though it’s odd to see a Spenser novel that fills out the pages instead of just the blinding flash of white space the later Parker novels had become. Well done Mr. Atkins. I still miss Nick Travers though. I gotta check out his Ranger books though. So much to read. Maybe I should just start skimming to the end…