So sorry I haven't been as attentive to the blog as I should have - touring tires a thrillerchick out. I've been running with Erica Spindler, author extraordinaire, out here on the Left Coast. We started the week in San Francisco, with a great signing at M is for Mystery (signed books available from Ed!) and moved down to the City of Angels. We've signed at 21 stores over the past several days, and after our panels tomorrow, we are off to Denver - my hometown. 

San Fran was awesome, the weather put on a show and it was stunningly green, and Los Angeles has been so amazing - I had lunch with a friend from elementary school who's a big wig voice over actor out here, and tea with a writer/director/producer friend who is the height of cool. We dined at the most wonderful Cicada tonight, the fine Italian restaurant that's been the scene of so many movies, like Pretty Woman (who can forget the escargot escapade?) and after dinner the delightful manager snuck us into the penthouse, formally the home of James Oviatt. From the Cicada website:

The Penthouse was designed by some of the most distinguished architects and artisans of the Jazz Age. It was built for James Oviatt, a haberdasher whose luxurious shop once occupied the ground floor of his namesake building. Oviatt’s ambition was to create a spectacular residence that would showcase the Art Deco design he’d admired at the 1925 Exposition in Paris.

It was so utterly surreal... I'll have pictures to post later. The photos on the wall, signed by the likes of Cecile B Demille and Errol Flynn, were truly unique. Suffice it to say I felt like we saw the ultimate insider view of some old-school LA histoire.

The Left Coast Crime bar is packed with the greatest folks - too many to name, but a veritable who's who of crime fiction. It's become sadly apparent that I haven't done enough social networking about my new book, but you know, I think that's okay. Sometimes we need to make sacrifices, and I have to tell you, I think giving up Facebook and Twitter for Lent was a good idea - I haven't felt this creative in months. I've been excited to sit down to work every day, which translates, of course, to more books and short stories for my readers. You'd rather me do that Tweet my fondness for cappuccino. Right?

Anywhoo, it's time to crash, but I wanted to say hi, tell you I miss you, and hope you're having a fabulous week. We have many blessings in this world, and I hope that several rain down upon you tonight.

xo,

JT

Here's the full list

Come see us virtually!! Questions left on this blog will be answered on camera!!!

Here's the link to the site:

http://bit.ly/aXjA0X

The link for the live feed Saturday night starts about 6pm and will run until 9pm. Hope to see you online!

 Also, my dear friend Erica Spindler's new novel came out Wednesday - BLOOD VINES. You must get it! Erica and I have several events together over the next week, and we hope to see some of you there!

Kaye requested something interesting from all of us doing her wonderful blog this year. A picture of our work space. Instead of just giving you a picture, I thought I’d talk about what a work space means to me.

Creating a book is a treacherous undertaking. We writers are sensitive artists, don’tcha know, replete with superstitions, rituals, methods. We have to have exactly the right paper, or pencil, or pen, or laptop, or desk, or music, or time…. You get the idea. Our work spaces are our cathedrals. We worship at the foot of the Muse, on our knees until they bleed, sometimes, begging and praying for that perfect storm of ideas, and the exact right shade of post-it notes.

You think I’m kidding, don’t you?

Our offices are sacred, and the tools of our trade as vital as the scepter and staff.

Ah, the tools.

In polite company, I’m referred to as an addict. A junkie. But we’re among friends here. We can be honest, open, forthright. The truth of the matter is I’m an office supply slut. I will do most anything for a fresh notebook, virginal paper and a kick-ass pen. And I cheat on my favorites unabashedly. I schedule time to go through the Levenger catalog. I read the Quo Vadis blog. I’ve started leaving my sunglasses on when I go to Staples because the checkout girl started looking at me with that pitying gaze – Oh, that poor girl, back again.

Offices, and office supplies, have been my Achilles heel my whole life. My very first job out of college, I was plopped at a desk next to a secretary’s desk, given a phone and a chair, and set to work. I cringed. Where was my office? Where was my view? Where was that all-important door that I could close?

Yeah. It took another three jobs before I got the door. Never did get the view.

But in all that time, my desk was my pride and joy. I always have been hyper organized. My inbox was always neat, my outbox full. Pens and pencils had their respective jars, and never the twain shall meet. I filed lustfully, experimenting with alphabetizing, dating, color schemes.

And then I struck out on my own. This was my office:

I wrote my first novel at that tiny desk. A second one, too. We actually just donated it to Goodwill, and I must admit, parting wasn’t the easiest. But maybe it will help some other aspiring author to build their dream.

When I realized I might actually be spending a lot of time at the little desk, my delightful parents upgraded me to this:

Beautiful, isn’t it? It took three days and a near separation for hubby and I to put that together. I still don’t think he’s forgiven me for all that molding. Yes, that is a bat hanging from the light, and yes, that sign on the right does say “Don’t Piss Off The Fairies.” Good advice, that.

My office is still a beautiful, clean and organized space. But now, seven novels in, I find I don’t need the trappings to feel creative. I often find myself in a black leather lounger in my living room, my laptop in my lap on a lapdesk I bought from Staples, my Levenger Circa and Moleskine notebook to my right:

I’ve simplified. The more experienced I become, I realize what’s important is the words on the page, and my surroundings don’t play as big a role as they used to.

But my desk is still clean, and my files are still beautifully organized.

J.T. Ellison signs her name to murder at Sherlock’s bookstores

Friday, February 26, 2010

J.T. Ellison exploits Nashville locales to the hilt in her four Taylor Jackson crime thrillers. “Nashville permeates this series as a character unto itself,” she says. Radnor Lake plays a big focus in “The Cold Room,” her latest tome. Ken Beck/The Wilson Post  Meet the author J.T. Ellison will sign copies of her newest book, “The Cold Room” (Mira Books, mass market paperback, $8), as well as previous titles, 1-4 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 27, at Sherlock’s Book Emporium in Lebanon, 200 Maddox-Simpson Parkway. 449-9807. For more info on the writer, go to www.jtellison.com. Sherlock’s downtown Nashville grand opening Sherlock’s Book Emporium will hold the grand opening of its downtown Nashville store, 235 Fifth Ave. N., on Saturday, March 6. J.T. Ellison and Jennie Bentley (with her “Do-It-Yourself Home Renovation Mysteries” from Penguin/Putnam) will sign their books 6-9 p.m. that day at Sherlock’s as part of Nashville’s First Saturday Art Crawl, between Fourth and Fifth avenues. Food and beverages will be served. Downtown store hours: 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Tuesday-Friday, 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday and 11 a.m.-10 p.m. the first Saturday of each month in conjunction with the art crawl. Downtown phone: 248-1962. For more information, go to www.sherlocksbooks.com. By KEN BECK Special to The Wilson Post J.T. Ellison’s favorite place to commit murder is Nashville. No, she’s not a serial killer, but the Conductor, the villain in her latest crime thriller, The Cold Room, is. Thus, the action in the fourth book of her homicide detective Taylor Jackson series opens with a grisly scene in a house on Love Circle, one of the first places that Ellison’s hubby took her when he introduced her to Music City in 1998. “My husband took me to Davis-Kidd, and we drove along to downtown, and he drove me around Love Circle. He told me his dream was to buy a house there. We never bought a house, but I really wanted to use it in a book. I’m so pleased how it turned out,” said Ellison, whose novels have been published in 14 countries. Other Nashville sites Ellison has selected for death include the entrance to Belle Meade in “All the Pretty Girls,” the Parthenon in “The Judas Kiss” and Bicentennial Mall State Park in “14.” She hopes to make a killing Saturday at Sherlock’s Bookstore in Lebanon but only in the area of book sales as she signs books 1-4 p.m. The following Saturday, March 6, Ellison will sign at Sherlock’s downtown Nashville store, along with Jennie Bentley, 6-9 p.m. during the First Saturday Art Crawl. (The first Saturday of the month, downtown Nashville art galleries between Fourth and Fifth avenues hold receptions and art openings 6-9 p.m. More than 1,000 people attend. Many galleries serve free wine and other refreshments.) In “The Cold Room” Detective Jackson discovers a perverted killer who kidnaps women, starves them to death in a glass coffin and then utilizes the corpses to recreate scenes from famous paintings. Similar ghastly crimes show up in Europe. So Taylor, her fiancé (FBI profiler Dr. John Baldwin) and a New Scotland Yard detective team up to smear out the Conductor's art collection. Ellison concocted Detective Jackson out of thin Nashville air. “She literally leapt into my head fully formed while I was driving down I-40. I was thinking about (writer) John Sandford’s Lucas Davenport character who represents Minneapolis-St. Paul. I wanted to develop a character to help Nashville,” Ellison said. “I got to thinking about this woman who is a cop, very strong and independent, and boom, she was there. I had always seen her as Athena, the warrior goddess of Nashville.” To make her books as realistic as possible, the novice novelist began a front-seat relationship with the men and women in blue of the Metro Police force. “I wanted to write about a female cop, and my sole experience was watching ‘Law & Order.’ I had to go and do the research and make it as accurate and real a possible,” she said. “The Nashville police were so open with me to help me get it right.” That openness turned into an invite to do some eight-hour ride-alongs and a bond with one of Nashville’s top cops. “It was just a fluke. I called homicide to ask about serial killers in Nashville and got Det. David Achord, a font of information. He and I talked, and he invited me to do a ride-along.” Her first time riding shotgun turned into an unbelievable trip. “Going out on midnight patrol and seeing a guy die does really change your approach,” she said. “We were called out to a stabbing. We beat the first responders there. I asked the cop I was with what do I do, and he said, ‘Stay on me.’ The guy had been stabbed in the stomach, and it was horrible and very graphic. We caught the killer. We had the murder weapon. We took him (the suspect) to the station and got him into booking, and it was so surreal, a start-to-finish case on my first overnight patrol. It was very intense and scary and sad. I had the guy’s blood on my cowboy boots when I got home.” Ellison, who lives in Nashville with her husband and a poorly trained cat, grew up in Colorado and Washington, D.C. She quit writing in college due to bad advice but returned with a vengeance in 2004 with her original Taylor Jackson book.   “I had written in college and thought that I wanted to be a writer, but I had a professor who told me that my stuff was not good enough to be published. So I went the politics route and did some marketing. I moved to Nashville and couldn’t find a job and was going stir crazy. I needed to be outside, so I went to work for a vet for three days,” Ellison said. “Then I picked up a golden retriever and threw my back out and had surgery. I began reading a lot and decided I wanted to try this (writing). So I came back to it.” (Can her fans thank that dog?) She is as big a fan of Steve and Patty Guynn, the owners of both Sherlock bookstores, as they are of hers. “They had me out to do a signing,” she recalled. “Their enthusiasm for the written word and selling books and finding authors they love and want to push epitomizes what you want for an independent bookstore. It’s great to have a bookstore so far behind you.” Her next Taylor Jackson novel, “The Immortals,” is complete and comes out in October, and she is in the midst of penning the sixth in the series, “The Pretender,” for a March 2011 release. As for what the letters in her name “J.T.” represent, she says, “That’s my initials and my nickname. I don’t tell what they stand for. If I did I would have to kill you.” Ken Beck may be contacted at kbtag2@gmail.com This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it .



Here's a link to Writers Read, where I disclose my solution to stress reading.

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The Cold Room tour is underway, and things are hopping! I've spent my (EARLY) mornings criss-crossing the country during doing morning radio drive time, having really excellent discussions with some great people. I love radio, it's just a perfect medium to have a conversation about books, life, and everything in between. I'm looking to find a way to add a podcast section to my site so I can share some of these interviews.

Had lunch today with a bevy of wonderful friends and authors, and I must warn you, I think Nashville is about to put the major markets to shame as far as cool writer collectives goes. A quick shout out to the connectornator, River Jordan, for all she's done to bring us together.

Two signings are behind me now, and tonight is my first downtown Nashville signing at the venerable independent Davis Kidd. When my husband was my boyfriend, he brought me to Nashville and showed me around the town, planning, I believe, our future here. That was 18 years ago, mind you, so it's strange how this all works out. Where did he take me that first day in Nashville, to introduce me to this wonderful town? Yep. Davis Kidd. So it's going to be a special night all around. Hope to see you tonight!

Oh, and did I mention my copyedits arrived this morning? The cosmos loves playing jokes on me...