Big Giveaway for Double Indignity

Hey all you kinkers and flatties out there!

I’m trying to gin up a little flash for Double Indignity in the weeks before Christmas. So I’m going to wade into the waters of a book giveaway, like all the experts tell me.

So if you’ve been waiting for the chance to get a signed copy of Rex Koko, Private Clown #2, as well as a signed poster and who knows what else I’ll throw into the envelope, click on the button below, or head over to Goodreads and look for it in the Giveaway listings before December 10.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Double Indignity by James Finn Garner

Double Indignity

by James Finn Garner

Giveaway ends December 10, 2014. See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Enter to win

Rex Koko fan art!

One of the best parts of my author chat at the Beverly Arts Center on October 19 was meeting my host, Penny Bigelow Golden, and her 8-year-old daughter, Flannery. A stylish scamp, sporting a fedora and a tartan skirt that day, she has told her mother time and again that she will grow up to be a famous French artist. Judging by her depiction of Rex Koko below, she may just make that prediction come true.

And she signed her note that came with the art “Your friend”. That’s cool by me, Flannery.

Ode to an Awesome World Series

Instant Replay

Eric Hosmer’s modified mullet
MadBum casually firing bullets

Superfans from South Korea
The panicked look on Kelvin Herrera

Phantom sighting of the Freak
Plugging Aoki’s defensive leak

Peavy shelled like the Hellespont
Escobar laying down a bunt???

Joe Buck opining from his tuchus
Of redoubtable Mike Moustakas

Gordon’s single to the wall
Cool-as-horchata Sandoval

What the hell is Ned Yost thinking?
I’ll have whatever Pence is drinking

Crawford gobbles up ground balls
Bochy weeps, and Affeldt bawls

Young Joe Panik, Dyson, Cain…
Can we please do it all again?

From Gonfalon to Woebegone

From gonfalon
To woebegone
KC fans are crying like their fountain
That James Shields
A smorgasbord yields?
A surprise (save Joe Buck) to no one.

The Giant hill ace
Has a fall ERA
So small as to be microscopic
While it’s time for “Big Game”
To drop the nickname
And meetings for that MLB biopic.

Your Daily Affirmation, from Brad Ausmus

Don’t be glum
Don’t ask why
Albuquerque’s just a 6th inning guy

Don’t you fret
Don’t you worry
After the 7th, we’ll turn to Soria

Don’t lose hope
Just have faith — when
It’s down to one inning, we’ll bring in Nathan

No matter where
Or what or when,
I’m skipper, and would do it all again.

Book Release Party for WET NOSE OF DANGER!

After a spring and summer of scrivening in the salt mines — how’s that for alliteration? — it was more than high time for a book release event. What good is writing a couple of books of clown noir if I can’t bring a little bit of circus excitement to my fans and readers? Is the writing life all practice and no spectacle? Emphatically NO!

Last July, I had just published Double Indignity and was busy working to finish The Wet Nose of Danger. I went to talk with Suzy Takacz, who owns my neighborhood store, the Book Cellar, about doing an event in the fall. She was interested.

“What do you think about having a couple of fire-eaters in the store?” I asked, just trying to get her attention.

Suzy thought about it. And thought and thought and thought, with the usual sparkle in her eye. (I think she had seen one too many boring, unattended signings where the writer droned on and on about his/her process.) Finally, she had to say no. Not because she was worried about torching her store, or filling it with chemical smells, or disrupting business. She said no because there are tenants living above the store, and she wouldn’t want to displace them if anything happened.

Lucky for me, The Book Cellar is across a quiet street from a city plaza, big enough to be useful for whatever I was thinking. I went through the city and the alderman’s office, as well as the chamber of commerce, to make sure everything would be ducky. The only warning I got came from the alderman’s office. “I’m going to have some music and circus acts,” I said. “Terrific,” spokesperson pol said, “just don’t do anything like fire-eaters or something.” “No worries,” I assured him.

With gypsy music from the fabulous Paprikash Brothers!

It was a beautiful night, and a good-sized crowd gathered for the ballyhoo.

Then we all marched across Lincoln Avenue, into the store for the reading. After being introduced by Suzy T, I read a passage from Double Indignity, the teeny car chase scene from Chapter 22.

Next it was time for a little vocabulary quiz, to see who was up on their circus “parlari”. I was frankly surprised that no one got the first question (a woman with an unnatural lust for clowns is, of course, a “joey jumper”), but most of the audience was fairly literate. I tossed out popcorn balls for prizes to the winners.

Then the audience asked me some questions about my writing process. A friend asked, “Where do you think these insane characters come from?” I gave her some long-winded answer — that some come to mind from a story of circus lore, some are inspired by an old photo, some are born of plot necessity — when really the only true response is, “If I knew, don’t you think I’d have taken care of it by now?”

Next, I read a rather lurid section from The Wet Nose of Danger, involving a “joey jumper” and Rex at a high-society fundraiser. “She had more arms than a spider-woman, and the sex drive of a hippo after Happy Hour.” Then, it was time for the signing, and the crowd didn’t disappoint. I also gave away a lot of free posters.

One of the best surprises of the evening was an old geezer sitting in the front row. During the signing, he came up balanced on his cane and introduced himself. He could’ve been 60 and he could’ve been 80, but he told me that since the age of 18, he had worked backstage with the big cats for the Cole Brothers Circus! He had retired about 10 years ago, but he said he had all the scars he needed to prove he’d been with the show.

“It was all I ever wanted to do,” he said. “The cats were just like housecats, with their routines and their need for attention, and their litter box. I’d never train monkeys. Monkeys were vicious, unpredictable. Big cats were always marvelous.”

I’m pretty certain he lives in my neighborhood, because he was pulling around a shopping cart from the local sausage shop. I apologized to him in advance for anything I might have gotten wrong in my story, but said all I was going for was entertainment. I’ve met a few other kinkers like this before. Circus people and veterans are out there among us. You never know when you’re going to meet one!

All in all, it was a spectacular night! One for the record books! A fitting launch for the latest and strangest “Rex Koko, Private Clown” caper!

(For more pictures of the evening, please check out the photo album I’ve created on Facebook.)

The Blanking Tygers

Tygers, Tygers, slinking low,
Humbled by the sailing O’s,
What makeup will yours be now
If Max and V-Mart take their bows?

We scarce knew you through this year
with superstars bought so dear.
With Triple Crowns and Cy Youngs
The faithful still bit their tongues.

What staff ace learns yet in May
He must recast how to play?
Which outfielder is there that
Can deftly wield both glove ‘n bat?

What cast of manager says,
“Pinch hit? Call Hernan Perez!”
And what manner of bullpen
Features Joba Chamberlain????

Tygers, Tygers, slinking low,
All these questions we would know,
Plus the reason for the fact
Ausmus has a long contract.

Tigers and A’s: As the Rotations Turn

Today, at BARDBALL:

Scherzer, Sanchez, Price and Verlander
An A-Team from Mr. I for all Michiganders

Sanchez, Scherzer, Verlander and Price
Dombrowski bets big with each roll of the dice

Verlander, Price, Scherzer, Sanchez
A squad made in heaven, so everyone says

Price, Sanchez, Verlander and Scherzer
Beef up the starters, the pen can’t get worser

Lester, Samardzija, Gray and Kazmir
Give the green-and-gold faithful reason to cheer

Samardzija, Gray, Kazmir and Lester
The A’s try not to let past losses fester

Kazmir, Lester, Samardzija and Gray
A huge power shift to the east in the Bay

Gray, Kazmir, Lester, Samardzija
Giving the rest of the AL neuralgia

It’s “win and win now”
They’re swinging their willies
And trying to ignore
The Phate of the Phillies.

Now Pitching: Glengarry Glen Ross!

Today, at BARDBALL:

Teams have shown over and over
(At least those who ain’t dozing)
If you want to play in October
@#$%!!! Always be closing!

Swing for the fences? Go ahead, then.
Make your double plays — great for posing
If you want to stand among men, friend,
@#$%!!! Always be closing!

Put that coffee down!
Coffee is for closers only!
It takes brass balls to win
Which you ain’t got, not remotely!

Second place is a set of steak knives.
Third place? Your job’s decomposing.
You think you deserve the hot leads?
@#$%! you! Always be closing!!

Don Zimmer, RIP

Today at BARDBALL, an ode to an old baseball lifer.

Old Zim
When I think of him
Looks like chaw and tar
And a grand har-har
To those squares
Who don’t care
About baseball
And giving your all
For what you love.
And when push comes to shove,
Had Martinez been 70,
Zim would’ve pounded him plenty.

You’re our kind of guy.
Goodbye, Popeye.

For Fans of Baseball Poetry, Bardball

I’ve been too busy with speeches and the latest Rex Koko novel (COMING VERY SOON!) to come over here to the blog and talk about the latest in baseball doggerel. For those of you who miss it, here’s my latest piece of hackery from over there, about Derek Jeter’s farewell tour.

Remember, if you like your baseball poetry fast, loose and unsentimental, check out Bardball daily during the season, and tell your friends about it.

The Captain’s Yard Sale

A dining set of broken bats
A navy pinstripe yoga mat

A year’s supply of Genny Cream
A keg signed by the vending team

A “2″ carved out of northern granite
A solar-cell vibrating hammock

A zircon-slathered Yankee topper
A 2,000-gallon popcorn popper

Another ugly pair of boots
A vid lip-synching with the Roots

“2s” in crystal, onyx, steel,
Beer cans, tree trunks and fresh veal

A wondrous Joe-Girardi-shaped ‘tater
A Japanese robot fellater

It’s not a hoarder’s dream or last mirage –
Just what’s stuffed in Jeet’s garage.

Talking Political Correctness at Grand Valley State

Think political correctness is dead? Think again, pally. There’s been lots of news to take apart and make fun of, both on the left and the right. (Remember, extremism and identity politics is an equal opportunity befuddler now.)

So last week, I traveled up to Grand Rapids, Michigan, to talk to the nice people at Grand Forum, which is a speakers series run throughout the year at the GR campus of Grand Valley State University. More than a hundred folks spent part of their morning, listening to me carp and mock and jape and chaff. It was a great time, with both the speech and the Q&A afterward. AND folks bought a lot of books, both PCBS and Honk Honk, My Darling, which is a great way to win the heart of a writer, in case you had any question about that.

This appearance was especially enjoyable because I have a lot of family up in the area. So, my in-laws, my aunt, cousins, my niece and nephew and his girlfriend were all there, as well as an old college friend that I’ve reconnected with (and who has been a huge promoter and beta reader of Rex Koko). They remarked that it was interesting to see me up their in my “public” persona. In other words, shaved and wearing pants.

The funniest part of the morning was all the self-effacing West Michiganders who kept asking me, incredulously, “And you drove all the way up from Chicago for us?” Yes, I really did. Lake Wobegon has got nothing on these folks. Thanks again for having me up there, Grand Forum.

Writing Workshop — Culver Academy

Last month, I had the distinct pleasure to head down to Indiana to visit Culver Academy. The writing center at this private secondary school was having its annual Excellence in Writing Awards, and they asked me to come down and give a few words for the occasion. Don’t think I wasn’t a little intimidated at the prospect — they gave out awards for, among others, best original composition in Chinese and Latin and best mathematical writing. The students, like all teenagers, tried to be flip about the significance of the event, like “I write in Latin every day, but usually not in verse like this.” But somewhere down inside they were proud, and they had every reason to be.

The next day, I conducted writing workshops with the Freshmen, Sophomores and Juniors — around 175 all told. I was a little nervous to start, but each class ended up being a rousing time. In our short periods together, I wanted to give the students some pointers on making their writing more vivid and precise. We started out talking about warm-up exercises, then did some “quick writing” to show the importance of lively, precise verbs and vivid sensory information. I also included a few lessons from improvisational acting to give them hints to goose their writing along when things get bogged down. By the end of each class, I had the enviable problem of getting them to leave off their editing and let me give some closing remarks and helpful resources. Other teachers out there might doubt this, but my hand to Strunk & White, I swear it’s true.

And these weren’t just students interested in writing, mind you. There were all the kids from the Humanities classes, so a lot of them were probably expecting a blow-off class. It was very gratifying to deprive them of that.

I met students from all over the country and around the world, and they were attentive, articulate and just downright cool. They were all a pleasure to be around. A couple even gave me some of their personal writing to look over when I got back. I hope they enjoyed their time with me as much as I did with them.

Below are some pictures of their beautiful campus. Also, here’s a write-up of the workshop from the Culver Newsletter.




Rick Monday

Rick Monday
Born on Tuesday
Homered off Seaver Wednesday
Traded on Thursday
Saved the flag Friday
Broke Canada’s heart Saturday
Retired on Sunday
And that’s why people still talk about Rick Monday.