Indie Bookseller Love

I’m just back from a quick trip to Salt Lake City for the American Bookseller’s Association Winter Seminar. This is a meeting for independent booksellers to attend seminars on the business of bookselling–which, in this economic climate, is no easy thing to do. But booksellers are some of my all-time favorite people in the world, so it was a great trip. Last night I was part of a group of 40 authors. The booksellers had a cocktail reception, and the authors sat at tables ringing the ballroom, siging advance reader’s copies (ARCs) or finished copies of their newest book. I was thrilled to be giving away the brand spanking new ARCs of THE FIXER UPPER. The new book won’t be out til June, but the ARCs go out now to booksellers and reviewers, so they can hopefully order gabillions of copies and start generating early buzz. Saw lots of old friends, including the wonderful folks from Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh, Inkwood Books in Tampa, Rainy Day Books in Kansas City, Mystery Lovers Bookshop in Oakmont, Pa., Books and Books in Coral Gables, and even my old friends from Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego. Bookselling is a labor of love for these folks, and in these challenging times, they have an uphill battle, but these folks are so smart, engaging, imaginative and brimming with love for the written word that it is always a treat to spend time with them. It made me want to be a better writer, and a better book lover. And, oh yeah, to pay attention to how and where I buy my books. Indie booksellers are the folks who supported me way back in 1992, when my first mystery, EVERY CROOKED NANNY was published. I’d sit in a Waldenbooks store at a mall, and the only time anybody would talk to me would be to ask me where the bathrooms were. But those indies, like the late, lamented Oxford Books in Atlanta, and Final Touch Books in Decatur, threw me book parties, hand-sold my books, and encouraged me to keep going. And now, here I am, almost 17 years later, with 17 books published. It still amazes me when I look at all those book jackets framed on my office walls. Tomorrow’s SuperBowl Sunday, but the game doesn’t start ’til 6 p.m. Why not take yourself over to an independent bookseller–either to a brick-and-mortar store, or to an indie bookseller’s online site, and treat yourself to a shiny new book? It doesn’t even have to be one of mine–although that would be nice, and yes, DEEP DISH does come out in paperback in February. Browse around, let the book-loving clerks give you their recommendations for a great new read, or pick up a new release you’ve been dying to try out.
And oh yeah, tell ’em Mary Kay sent you.

Craigslist for Dummies

Actual ad from Atlanta Craigslist under GARAGE SALE category:

GARAGE DOORS FOR SALE WITH OPENER – $325 (YOUNG HARRIS GA)
Reply to: [?]Date: 2009-01-29, 8:06AM EST
TWO GARAGE DOORS FOR SALE WITH OPENER..ONE HAS GLASS PANELS,,,ONE DONT…BOTH ARE WHITE …STANDARD SIZES ON BOTH DOORS VERY GOOD COUNTION NO DENTS OR DINGS…MOVING MUST SELL …..CALL

Yeah. See, the thing is, you don’t actually sell garages at a garage sale. And don’t get me started on grammar and spelling. Or the idea that the person considering buying this rocket scientist’s home might wonder what happened to the garage doors that came with the house.

Whew. Now I feel better. Guess I was a little cranky due to the lack of honest-to-Gawd estate sales this week….

Signing Alert: Southeastern Flower Show Atlanta

Tomorrow, I’ll be a thorn amonsgt the roses, er, camellias, when I sign books at the Southeastern Flower Show. Catch me from 2-4 p.m. Thursday at the Eagle Eye Bookstore on the floor of the show, which is being held this year at the Cobb Galleria Centre in Marietta. Yes, I know. Stop that giggling. I have about as much business at a flower show as a pig at a beauty shop, but hey, I love flowers. I love gardens. I would love gardening, but every time I step into my yard mosquitoes swarm my lily-white Irish flesh. And I get backaches. Anyway, they asked, and everybody knows I’ll just about show up for the opening of a phonebook. So come out to the flower show and check out the gorgeous displays and helpful lectures, and then wander over to the bookstore and I’ll sign your books. Hell, I’ll even sign garden books.

Breeze Inn Sneak Peek

The Breeze Inn–Almost there!
Master bedroom–with $10 Baptist yard sale bed

Katie and Mark’s room–$10 Episcopal thrift shop headboard

Andy’s room–$50 Craigslist twin beds
I finally dragged my whipped butt home Friday afternoon. Or should I say Katie dragged it home, becuz I have come down with a case of the crud and she had to drive us home. Still, I feel like we really are in the home-stretch now. After a series of mind-boggling hitches, we finally got our certificate of occupancy on the Tybee cottage Friday morning. What kind of hitches, you ask? Let’s see. On Tuesday, I decided to run a load of linens in my newly-delivered washing machine. The next thing I know, a large puddle of water is spreading on my newly finished heart-pine floors. An SOS to Billy the plumber brought the news that there was a leak behind the wall. Oh yeah, the recently painted, plank wall. Washer and dryer pushed aside, wall ripped up, where we discover that a nail had been driven through the PVC water line. Oy. (Is it okay for Catholics to say oy? gotta check that.) New pipe installed, wall nailed back in place. We’re ready for the inspectors, who pass us on all the mechanical systems, but are gazing suspicously at the brand new windows. Are these hurricane impact-rated? We all look at each other and scratch our heads. We know they’re energy efficient, but impact-rated? A call to the building supply that sold us the windows revealed that they are NOT impact-rated. This means that to get our CO we will have to order sheets of plywood and have each one cut to the size of the windows and labelled, and then call the inspectors back. And did I mention that my antique schoolhouse lamp globe got dropped and busted? Oy. (I’m giving myself permission to use it.) In the meantime, there was plenty to do. I attacked the kitchen sink with a can of Bar Keeper’s Friend and got out most of the rust stains. I set up my kitchen. Katie, the organizational genius, fine-tuned it. With the genius help of Jane Coslick we set up the beds in the bedrooms, hung curtains, put down rugs, made up beds, arranged furniture, took up rugs that weren’t working, removed the furniture that was too big. See, I have a thing with numbers. They make me cross-eyed. I’m number dyslexic, I think. I always have an idea of how things should look in my head, but the scale throws me off. A measuring tape would help, but I’d still foul it up. So it’s a matter of give and take. So here are a few preliminary sneak peeks. There’s still art to be hung, curtains to be hung, the living and dining rooms to arrange, drapes to be made–oh yeah, stay tuned for MKA’s foray into drape-making, and much more to come. But before we left Friday, I got to fold my pretty blue and green towels and place them in my dreamy new master bath, and gaze out my non-impact rated windows at a gorgeous sunny Tybee day. Not a bad week’s work. And when I stop whining long enough, I really do know how blessed we are to have this place of escape and relaxation. Now, if I could just get rid of this case of crud.

Savannah Book Festival–Y’all Come!

Please join me in the most beautiful city in America, Savannah, Ga., for the second annual Savannah Book Festival, Feb. 6-8. Last year’s debut festival was so much fun it shoulda been illegal, and the organizers have even better stuff up their sleeves this year. You can hear Southern humorist Roy Blount (author of my favorite poem about broccoli) at a Friday night keynote concert. I’ll be winging it Saturday at 2 p.m. in the Trinity Church sanctuary–I guess that means I’ll have to watch my phraseology–and more than 40 other wonderful authors of fiction and non-fiction will be speaking throughout the weekend. And did I mention that you can still buy a ticket to the Sunday brunch catered by The Lady & Sons and featuring as guest speaker a little lady known as Paula Deen? Lawd! Can you stand it? Go here for all the details. and tell ’em Mary Kay Andrews sent you.

Duke’s Mayo is the Spread for Me!

And now, as though life isn’t exciting enough, comes word from our friends at Duke Mayonnaise that they want our help in choosing the winner of their jingle contest! Here’s the email I received this weekend:

Hi Mary Kay,
Thanks so much for sharing the news about Duke’s jingle contest on your blog! We’ve narrowed it down to two finalists and would like you and your readers’ opinions on which best describes “The Secret of Great Southern Cooks.” Can you help us out?

You can listen and vote at http://www.dukesmayo.com/jingle.asp .

Of course, I wrote them back immediately and told them where to send my case of Duke’s Mayonnaise–the secret of Great Southern Cooks.

If this payola scheme of mine works out, look for future blogs about Godiva chocolates, Kate Spade handbags, Mercedes-Benz, Mitchell-Gold sofas and Talbott’s.

We Interrupt this Blog for an Important Message/BSP

Today, Sunday, I’ll be giving a book talk and hawking books at the NE Spruill Oaks Library Branch in Johns Creek, Ga. I think that’s the new name for a part of formerly unincorporated Alpharetta. The gig starts at 2:30 p.m. If you live nearby, c’mon over. I mean, just how much football does one person need to watch? It’s at 9560 Spruill Oaks Rd. It’s free and everything. And you could buy a buttload of books–since over here at The Kudzu Telegraph/Mary Kay Andrews global headquarters it is all about me.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled rant. The good news is that the big yellow truck did not flip over. The aquaduct paint on the outside of The Breeze Inn is nothing short of amazing. It makes your pulse drop a few points just looking at it. Tranquility in a paint can. The blossom pink paint on the front door is yummy too. Altho–when we pulled up Thursday the first thing I noticed was that the painters had mistakenly painted the door surround pink too–which made the house look like a slatternly old lady with smeared hot pink lipstick. Once they painted the surround white, like the rest of the trim, all was calm. In other not so happy news: the electrician, Mr. Reddy Killowatt, flunked his inspection. Among other brilliant moves, he neglected to place a 110 outlet in the kitchen for the stove. Light switches are so screwed up it makes me want to scream. There is no internet cable run to my office cubby. Hello??? The plumber decided once and for all that my beloved vintage pedestal sinks would not work after all, because it’s impossible to find modern drains to fit them. Curses! The stove wouldn’t fit in the cabinet slot in the kitchen, so we had to get the granite guy to come out and grind down the slot. The microwave had a stripped screw and was missing vital mounting brackets, so we had to run out and buy a new one. And the floor guy for some reason, decided we didn’t want the staircase and upstairs landing sanded and stained–like ALL the other floors he’d installed. “I thought you wanted to paint that” he reportedly said. But who paints newly installed reclaimed heart pine???? So he’ll have to come back down from Atlanta. Again. We weren’t allowed to set up the beds because the electrical and HVAC guys flunked their inspections, meaning we can’t get a certficate of occupancy until they DO pass inspection. So furniture and dishes and kitchenware are piled everywhere. Except that Mr. Mary Kay DID get his big-ass TV set up. And while I was up in Charleston Saturday, doing a book gig, he snuck out and bought MORE speakers.
Ok. Rant over. None of the above is insurmountable. Nobody was maimed or killed in the move. It’s just a house. Just stuff. We are so blessed that our dream of having a beach house was finally realized. And I know it will be beautiful when it’s done. Or else. Mr. Reddy Killowatt may find himself with a 110 outlet plugged where the sun don’t shine.

Moving Day: As the Stomach Churns

The move to Tybee Island is officially underway. The big yellow truck is backed up in our driveway. One of the storage sheds has been emptied. Mr. Mary Kay and a strapping youth, plus Mark, our son-in-law are out there in the cold, wrestling with the Baptist Yard Sale Sleeper Sofa, and the vast quantity of wicker I have amassed over the past couple years, not to mention assorted geegaws, and whimdoodles. The big-ass wide-screen TV which Mr. MK purchased recently is waiting to be loaded. This television is so large that I think we could just point it at the street and sell tickets to front yard screenings this summer. It is so large that the dudes on the space shuttle could probably watch Sports Center on it from outer space. Mr. MK is all about electronics. While I have been dithering over doorknobs and salivating over sinks, he has been making furtive visits to Best Buy and Circuit City. One night he came home with a shopping bag full of stuff. I eyed it suspiciously, seeing the all-too-familiar Best Buy logo. “What’s that?” she said. “Clock radios,” he said smugly. “A whole bag-ful?” “I can’t stand a beach house without a clock radio, so I bought one for every room,” he said. “People want to know what time it is.” I tried to tell him that many modern-thinking types just check their cell phone, but he was having none of it. While I was browsing around in the basement (home to the Breeze Inn furniture inventory) I came across a large cardboard box. “What’s this?” He got a blissful look on his face. “Stereo system. Inside and out speakers.” This box is the size of a suitcase. “Couldn’t we just get a docking station for an iPod?” I asked innocently. He looked at me as though I’d just suggested he should attend high mass at the Cathedral–wearing women’s panties on his head. Tonight, as we were loading his vehicle for the move, I spotted another suspicious box in the back of his SUV. I’m afraid to look, but I think it might be a HDTV blue-ray DVR. And did I mention his fixation with batteries and light bulbs? Oh well. He better not say a word about that wicker dressing table that materialized in the basement over the Christmas holidays. Or the three different kinds of salad plates I’ve purchased for the beach house. Not to mention all the wine glasses.

Me n’ Eddie

Eddie and I–a tender moment at Scott’s
 Souvenir tablecloth for beach house window treatment
Floursack pillow sham for boomerang boy’s room

French market basket for linen storage at beach

My dream date with Eddie Ross was almost perfect. We shared malteds at the drive-in, then somebody put a dime in the jukebox and we danced to “our” song–“Muskrat Love”, and he gave me his high school letter sweater. You know he lettered in audio-visual, right? And then we went parking down at the overlook. Oh wait. Time out. I think maybe I made up some of that stuff. Okay, all of it. I do write fiction for a living–remember? Maybe I watched a little too much Laverne and Shirley in my formative years. Anyway, after I got my junkin’ mojo back with a Saturday visit to Scott’s (see my finds above) we had a terrific time at Scott’s Antique Market today with the fabulous Eddie Ross. Katie and I met Eddie and Jaithan–and about 30 others, at the South Building at Scott’s this morning. Since the vendors didn’t open for an hour, Eddie filled us in on his background, gave us some of the inside scoop on Top Design, and answered tons of questions before we started touring the building. We stopped at some of Eddie’s favorite dealers, and he gave us pointers on painting furniture—always prime veneered furniture before painting–how to keep a room filled with antiques from looking too “granny”–mix in contemporary fabrics and accessories. He talked about choosing affordable art, thrifty tips for framing, and lots more. All kidding aside, I think Eddie’s appeal is that he is all about accessible, real-life design, mixing vintage and antiques with well-designed affordable mass market goods. He’s not above telling you that he adores the upholstered headboards at Ballard Designs, or suggesting that you pick up a $20 print and pair it with a simple black frame from Michael’s. Afterwards, Katie and I lured Eddie and Jaithan over to one of our favorite vendors at Scott’s–Uncle Woody’s, for some chicken salad and shop-talk. It looks like 2009 will be the year of Eddie Ross. He’s got a book in the works, licensing deals, and some cool upcoming magazine stuff. And he and Jaithan are moving to the country. I’ll be moving there shortly too, I’m sure. Just as soon as Eddie gently breaks the news to Jaithan that he is so five minutes ago…

Missing: My junkin’ mojo

Beth and I spent four hours at Scott’s Friday and I only managed to buy one thing. A ten dollar milk glass towel bar. As the King of Siam would say “is a puzzlement”. There was lots of yummy stuff yesterday, and dealers were certainly willing to bargain, but I only managed to pull the trigger that one measly time. My conclusion? What with the holidays and all the craziness of pulling together the beach house, I maybe lost my junkin’ mojo. No fear. We headed back to Scott’s today, and I somehow found my mojo again. Bought a french wicker basket for forty bucks (one dealer was selling the same ones for $160), a vintage Florida souvenir tablecloth to use as a curtain in the bathroom at the beach house, and some way-cool National Biscuit Company flour sacks that will make sweet pillow shams in the boomerang boy’s bedroom at the beach. Tomorrow is my blind date with Eddie Ross at Scott’s. Okay, I lied. It’s more like a group date. And we’re paying to go. But still, I know in my heart of hearts, if anybody could get Eddie to switch teams, it’d be me. Stay tuned.