BAMS BSP

Opening my computer signaled a typical day. A radio station in England and a book club in Hartford, Connecticut, threw electronic elbows, jockeying for my attention. Both were desperate for me to appear. In elaborate detail, the emails slobbered over my first book. They warned that a collective paroxysm might sweep through their listeners and readers if I didn’t reply promptly and agree to appear. Lives were at stake.

Like the rest of the writing community, I get a lot of AI-generated scam emails these days. At first, they enticed me. Then, they entertained me. Now, they’re weeds.

So, I nearly missed the email from Steph Cha notifying me that my story, “Slow Ride,” would be included in this year’s The Best American Mystery and Suspense.

I carefully checked its authenticity before replying. They’d spelled Steph Cha,

Megan Abbott, and my name correctly. They got the story’s title right. They hadn’t suggested that my book, “Slow Ride,” had real movie potential. It seemed genuine. With trepidation, I replied. Then I waited for the follow-up email requesting credit card information. Instead, I got an author copy with my name included on the Table of Contents. (It’s there, near the bottom. That’s what happens when your last name starts with T.)

Of course, my name shouldn’t be there alone. Fellow Sleuth, Michael Bracken, had the idea for a series of novellas about a Dallas-based car theft ring. (In 2025, Joseph S. Walker scored The Mysterious Bookshop’s Best Mystery Stories of the Year for another tale in the series.) Michael invited me to submit a proposal. I threw him two. One centered on a stolen car with a space alien in the trunk. I described the other as “Charles Dickens meets Saw IV.” It felt like a good elevator pitch.

It worked. Michael asked me to write that one.

“I’ll get started right away,” I said.

But first, I had to watch Saw IV.

Thanks, as always, to Michael for turning my comma-spliced submission into legible prose. Thanks also to Betty, my traveling companion and first reader. She wouldn’t watch Saw IV with me. She didn’t need to. Betty intuitively understood the premise. Create a bad scene, then ask, “How might I make this worse?”

Thanks to Megan Abbott and Steph Cha for including my story in the collection. I look forward to thanking you in person at a conference down the road.

Proving that writers never waste anything but time, Barb Goffman emailed some months later, seeking a holiday story for a July issue of Black Cat Weekly. She said you can do Independence Day if you want, but it’s okay to feature an obscure holiday. A quick Google search taught me that World UFO Day is July 2^nd.

Barb and I have corresponded before. I knew this one wasn’t a scam.

I wrote back. “How about a thief with a space alien in the trunk?” 

As these things go, the story ended up taking a different direction than I envisioned when I originally pitched it to Michael. But the finished product found a home.

Now, I get emails from a book club in Sydney, Australia that wants to talk about it.

And I have to read them. Because every so often a surprising message lies hidden among the weeds. Finding it can make your day.

Until next time.

*****

I’m traveling during the week that this blog posts. Apologies in advance for a delayed reply.