Is Close Good Enough?

So, once again we enter into the field of “that’s nice.”

The award you see above is given to me because my novel, “Naked Lies,” was a finalist in the Comedy category of the Claymore Awards.

The Claymores are given out during the Killer Nashville writer’s conference. I was a finalist with ten other authors.

No, I did not win. Something called “King of the Buckaroo Boys” was given that honor. And no, I have not read it, so I have no idea how good it is. Clearly, good enough to beat me.

(For those of you new to this blog, “Naked Lies” concerns a solo lawyer in Humboldt County who is hired to defend the owner of a nightclub from allegations that he fondled a dancer auditioning for him. It is based on a real case I had years ago. It is the novel where the lawyer, John Carlson, meets his investigator, a former stripper named Ariel. Ariel is based on my second ex-wife. She loves the book.)

I was startled that I got this far. This book was written about 10 years ago and has been sitting in my computer all that time.

And yes, it is funny. I didn’t think a serious-minded book about strippers would fly. At least, not the way I write. Maybe if I was Laurence Block, who seems to be able to write serious mysteries on any topic.

But I didn’t win the big burrito. That would have led to a publishing contract and untold wealth and fame. Beautiful women would have propositioned me. Movie studios would have come calling. I could buy a better car, though my little black pony (a Kia Rio) seems to be chugging along quite well, thank you.

I was grousing about this to a writer friend of mine, who brought me up short.

“You’ve had all kinds of success,” she said. ‘You won the Black Orchid. You’ve been on the cover of Alfred Hitchcock. You were a finalist here. Stop your bitching.”

Of course, she was right.

Still, it would have been nice to get that publishing contract. I already knew that I wanted Scarlett Johansson to play Ariel. The lawyer? Some devilishly good looking actor who could be mistaken for me.

But Paul Reubens is gone, folks.