John Kruk was going to burst a blood vessel

I wish he would just go ahead and do that, then, so I don't have to listen to him spout ignorant nonsense (much to the annoyance of Gammo, sitting right across from him). Do you remember what teams they were? Someone in the national league.

And for the record, there was plenty of yelling over the play (also I am totally making up the call and pitch in the above); but the yelling was not a necessary part of the action.

Yeah, I'm not fond of Kruk, either.

I'm not sure, but I thought it was interleague--Cubs v. White Sox.

Hmmm. So.

As noted, I started a new series, the Rock and Roll Mysteries.

I'm keeping the actual first book under wraps, for some deeply personal reasons, but there aint no stinkin' reason not to post the synopsis, and if anyone makes the obvious connections, please to not name any names on the boards? Feedback on synopsis requested: it needs work, I think, since this is the first draft.

ROCK & ROLL NEVER FORGETS: A SYNOPSIS

JP Kinkaid, ageing guitarist for long-lived megastar rock band Blacklight, has got problems.

For one thing, there are the two women he loves: Cilla, the obsessive ambitious wife of thirty years, and Bree, the private, fiercely protective girl he fell in love with when she was barely old enough to be in high school. He's lived with Bree for 25 years, but has never entirely let go of Cilla.

For another, he suffers from multiple sclerosis, a disease which, as he ages, makes it harder and harder to deal with the pressures of a touring band.

JP, just off a European tour and preparing for the upcoming American tour, learns that sleazy tabloid biographer Perry Dillon is planning a detailed history and biography of Blacklight. When he sits down for the initial interview, it's clear from Dillon's questions that he's digging up a secret JP has tried to keep buried for a long time - a secret that could threaten his relationship with Bree.

Blacklight opens the American tour at Madison Square Garden, to high expectations and thunderous applause. But during the show, Perry Dillon is found dead backstage, and one of JP's guitar stands proves to be the murder weapon.

This is the first in the planned Rock and Roll Mysteries series, featuring JP Kinkaid: full of industry chat, backstage awareness and offering a fascinating look behind the scenes of how musicians work, live, and love.

deb, that sounds fantastic. I'm not really into the whole rock scene thing, but that synopsis makes me want to read it.

Sounds intriguing, deb.

This is comparatively lame(yuk, yuk) but Tep's topic reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend, so this came out.
Nonverbal communication is not really my friend, not just because words are my crutch, my drug of choice, my most consistent tender embrace. Non-verbally, I’m short, being seated, and I see a lot of crotches. Unless the other person is very committed or in the same boat, we won’t see eye to eye very much. I cannot prove I’m a man with my handshake or show I’m sexy with my confident stride. I tend to make people talk about their grandmothers, operations, or everything that ever sucked about being pregnant.”I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” may be on my gravestone one day. Then, what do you stare at? There must be something.

Deb, the synopsis is great. (As is the rest, but you've heard that from me already!)

I'm up over 12K words, and just beginning the murder scene.

Drawing on backstage memories of Madison Square Garden from 36 years ago, and trying to update it, is genuinely weird.

Unbroken

She said she’d come.

Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop.

She’s only right across the street.

Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop.

How could she forget?

Step, step, hop. Wait. Okay, car’s gone.

I don’t care if she got busy.

Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop.

Didn’t she know how important it was to me?

Step, step, hop. Step, step, hop.

It was the big Thanksgiving Day play. The only play I’ve ever been in!

Step, step, hop. Step, step, step, leap.

She never does anything important with me. I. Hate. Her.

Jump. Jump. Stomp.

There, missed all the cracks!

(I don't know how universal the ritual is, but when I was a kid there was a saying, "step on a crack and break your mother's back.")

Deb, it sounds fantastic.