Maria Alexander News and Updates from TheHandlessPoet.com

I can no longer drink red wine.

Back in NYC at Thrillerfest, I drank two glasses of red wine at the last cocktail party. Afterward, I felt -- for lack of a better word -- yucky. My stomach was a bit off, my head a little cloudy. But that was it. I thought to myself, "Myself? Methinks I drank from a bad bottle."

That was July 11.

Because I didn't feel like it -- which is odd for me, to say the least -- I didn't drink any wine at all until last Tuesday night, July 27. I then drank three smallish glasses over almost the same number of hours at dinner with a friend. I was a bit wobbly-tired but in good spirits. I walked home from the restaurant and dove into bed around 11:00pm.

At 1:30am, I woke up with a roaring upset stomach, headache and feeling heated. I got up and took a TUMS. I then went to the kitchen for Motrin. When I opened the refrigerator to get some water, the light seared my eyes. I had a broad brushstroke of ghostly light burned into my vision for the next 10 minutes or so. Really annoying and troubling.

I eventually fell back to sleep around 3:30am.

Since then, I've not been able to stomach the sight or smell of red wine. I had Lord Arux pour out the wine that was left in bottles from before I left for New York. I knew it had all gone bad and that it would have doubled me over from the smell.

The tyramine in red wine is apparently one of the main triggers for migraine. (I'm not certain why the Wikipedia page for Red Wine Headache doesn't speak to the Migraine page. Very strange.)

It's no secret I've been under some stress lately in all spheres. But it does seem that if I want to avoid further migraines, red wine is off the list. I've totally lost my taste for it and have no desire to experiment with other bottles. It's like getting food poisoning. If you get it at a Mexican restaurant, you then have an aversion to Mexican restaurants. Same deal here.

Sadness.

But then, there's always single malt whiskey...

Utterly fucking brilliant! Made me want to run through the streets shouting and pouncing on the uninitiated. INCEPTION! INCEPTION! INCEPTION!

Not perfect, mind you. Some of it -- especially the whole confessional relationship between Cobb and Ariadne -- kind of left me biting my lip and shaking my head. Lord Arux found places where the film violates the very rules it establishes. He's right. I was asking myself the same questions but let go of the questions in favor of the breathtaking pace and intellectual ambition. I also HATED when one character says, "We only use a small portion of our brains." NOT TRUE. I wish people would stop saying that.

Flawed or not, it's superb storytelling. And you have never seen an audience so wound up, especially in the last scene. People were leaning out of their seats, agape, fists clenched. You could see "GAAAHHHHH!!!!!" rolling across their eyes like a marquee at Times Square.

I found it easy enough to keep track of what was happening thanks to Nolan's beautiful use of color to separate the dreams. And the acting was terrific. Marion Cotillard was especially terrifying, and Leo's acting ages like fine wine.

God, I loved this movie.

I've had a startling dream life of my own. (Here's a taste.) It made me dig up an actual dream I wrote out back in 1995 as if it were a short story. I called it "Finally Meeting Fear." It contained dreams within dreams, with multiple wakings. Not for the faint of heart...

I think I prefer seeing it on screen rather than in my head.

GO. NOW.

Bonjour, tout le monde!

Okay, so, you're probably all wondering how awesome Thrillerfest was. I'll tell you! It was THIS awesome. Not so much New York City, which was as stinky and hot as being rolled up in the carcass of a Tauntaun, and three times as expensive as back home. Somehow I managed to stay sane and cool in the outrageously expensive Grand Hyatt Hotel, where as luck would have it lots of very nice, incredibly generous writer types were hanging out.

Thrillerfest and the people of the thriller genre itself impressed me in many ways. For one, the attendees were on the balance a little older than those at World Horror, and women were far more common. The latter is particularly significant because many of the people writing thrillers come from professions such as law, law enforcement, medicine and science. I can also attest that the brains of the fest skewed high on the I.Q. and low on the nonsense quotient. I loved that. I could have a great conversation with just about anyone, and did.

I learned a great deal about the genre -- mostly that there's hella more money in it than in horror. That's good news. More on that in a minute.

I volunteered. I wanted to meet more people and let people get a chance to see that I don't bite (at least not hard, and not without being asked nicely). I met more incredibly nice people who were tickled to death by Trog. Well, mostly anyway. A couple of folk gave undisguised responses to the negative. (For example, I got an eye-rolling from Harlan Coben when I volunteered to wrangle writers at the author signing. I don't think was a fan of Trog.)

One woman I happened to be walking with said about Trog, "It's a great gimmick."

Whoa! Clearly I wasn't in Kansas anymore, nor was I even in orbit of the planet that contains Oz. I was at Camp Thrill where no one lives with Wild Things. They live with international spies, renegade cops, lawyers in love, and the occasional Templar running amok. I confess that I felt slightly out of place, even though my books absolutely belong here. And to be fair, she probably didn't realize that Trog is my full-time purse who is a world traveler. Yes, he gets a lot of attention and he's very memorable. But the keyword here is he, not me. If they remember me, it's a bonus. (I have plenty of anecdotes to this end, trust me.) I carry him because, frankly, he's the fucking coolest thing on the planet. So there you go.

I met writers. Lots and lots of writers. I even mistook Sandra Brown for someone I once knew. (She's very stylish and gracious, by the way.) I heard Ken Follett speak, which was such a shot in the arm, I can't even tell you. I was teased by David Liss, sweetly indulged by my fantasy-horror peeps (Chris Golden, Doug Clegg, Nate Kenyon, Deborah LeBlanc, Jonathan Maberry, Paul Wilson and Tom Picirrilli), befriended by Michael Palmer, and I generally felt welcomed. And I must mention meeting my intellectual soul sister, Kelli Stanley*. I can't wait to see her again in October at BoucherCon. Upon learning that I was making a "genre shift," people offered all kinds of advice, including and especially the lovely Dakota Banks.

I stalked fellow newbie James Brabson. He put up with me dropping out of the sky in front of him to say, "Watcha doin' now? Huh? Huh?" like every five minutes. Thanks, James. :)

What I savored most about Camp Thrill was the lack of competitive spirit. The pervasive philosophy was that the more good writing there is, the more readers there will be. To that end, I didn't sense any shortage of publishing resources. And I heard a lot of success stories come out of Agentfest, which was awesome and encouraging. (I didn't participate in that, as SILENCE OF THE IAMBS and THE BODYJACKER aren't ready for agent eyes.) So, I'm feeling pretty confident that either or both books will do well, and that's very exciting.

Bon week-end, tout le monde!



*(OMGBBQPONIESKISMET!!11!!!)

Hi ho, it is I, signing in from here at Camp Thrill.

So, I decided in my infinite wisdom that the best way to get to know people and become more visible was to get involved and volunteer. My crazy genius plan has gone slightly awry in that I'll be passing out tickets and directing people at 8am on Saturday morning for a special breakfast, and the night before that helping with the book signing at 5pm. (I don't really need to eat, right?) The people I've met so far are incredibly nice. And I did get to chat for a few minutes with the always very kind David Morrell. Hopefully I'll soon see a few other familiar faces.

It seems I must go to BoucherCon. Or so I'm told. And it looks like lots of fun, so I suppose I shall.

I'm madly getting my crap together for Thrillerfest, aka "Camp Thrill." It's going to be very exciting to meet new people and see what this new genre holds. It looks like some familiar faces will be there. I'm taking the first 500 words of THE BODYJACKER for the Snap Critique session. Should be fun!

It's killing me, though, that I'll be in NYC and that I can't see my friends. I really, really have to make some kind of a follow up trip to the East Coast sometime soon before (or just after) the snow hits. So my apologies that I won't be available during that time. Lord Arux tells me I must see a Broadway show yet I'm trembling with doubt as I look at my schedule. He's right, though. I need to experience New York properly.

Speaking of friends, Katelan is just finishing my veve for Papa Ghede!



Isn't it -- and she -- gorgeous? I'm dying to see it. Um, figuratively speaking, that is, Baron. Ahem.

I spent a low key 4th with friends in the neighborhood, not feeling up to much socializing. At the height of silliness, a gentleman named Ian who works for Apple pulled out his iPad during the fireworks. When we berated him for not watching the show, someone -- I think it was Marv -- said, "Why are you watching your iPad when you could be watching iSky?!?" Adored hearing my true love sing folk tunes with a long-time friend of his. Also really dug the songs sung by our pal Hunter, who was only too happy to spend the evening abetting any form of corruption in which I wanted to indulge. (Ahem again.) Looking forward very much to hearing him play at the House of Blues!

And the new business cards were a hit. They're very purty in person, as well as snarkalicious. I hope they make the great impression I'm hoping for at Camp Thrill.

Wish me luck!