When you’re an author on tour, geography is your natural enemy.  At the moment we’re on AZ 51, headed from Phoenix to Prescott.  Siri must have been out partying last night.  When I asked her the distance between the two, she claimed Prescott was “nine miles as the crow flies” from Phoenix.  It’s actually 99.4 miles.  We’re supposed to be there by 9:45 for a 10:00 AM event.  That made for an early up and out, which included makeup, washing and ironing my hair, and having breakfast. (Since there’s not enough time between the first scheduled event and the next event to a: drive there and b: have something to eat, breakfast was a must!)

It doesn’t matter what time zone you’re on—daylight savings or not—being “show ready” and on the road at this hour is challenging.  And by the way, although this is Arizona, it is definitely NOT a dry heat.

Last night, a few hours after we traveled this same freeway, AZ 51, there was a road rage shooting.  A woman on her way home from work was pursued by three men in a pickup truck.  Several motorists had reported aggressive driving on the part of a “work” truck prior to the incident, and the woman herself was on the phone to 911 reporting what was happening when the truck sped by, firing three shots into her vehicle through her passenger window, causing her to crash into the median, taking out three other cars in the process.  She was transported to a hospital where she later died.  I’ve been too busy getting ready this morning to watch the news, so I have no idea if her assailant has been caught.  I expect the guy doing the aggressive driving is the one who pulled the trigger, and I hope one or the other of his two passengers comes forward and identifies the creep.

Yesterday, during a Q & A session at one of the events, someone asked me why I used a freeway shooter as the center piece of the Random Acts novella. One of my recent book tours took place while Arizona’s “freeway shooter” was active.  Believe me, that made a big impression on me, something that was only underscored by last night’s senseless violence.  I have a few choice words for people like that—those would be UGW—Un-Grandmotherly Words—but since I try to write this blog in the manner in which morning newspapers used to be written, I can’t use ANY of them.

Geographical considerations aside, however, the tour is going well.  Lots of people at the signings; lots of interest in the book.  Having a chance to talk to people is always fun. Yesterday in Mesa, a woman told me I was her inspiration.  When she saw my weight loss results last time, she said, “I told myself, if she can do it, I can do it!”  She’s lost 38 pounds and shopping for clothes is “fun again.”  Someone in the audience at Sun City West, turned out to be from Rapid City, South Dakota, and that caused me to relate the story of the tragic loss of my gospel singer cousin, Polly Johnson.  And something else brought to mind the story of Bill’s astonishingly expensive, cruise ship, limited edition, Faberge tie. Those of you who read this blog are already well versed on all those topics, but for most of the people in book tour audiences, it was all brand new.

Book tours also put me in touch with people I’ve known for years.  Ralph Whitehead, a kid from my neighborhood in Bisbee, showed up at the Poisoned Pen.  I hadn’t seen him in more than fifty years.  Tom and Carol Quijada, friends from my college days at the University of Arizona, were also in the audience that night, as was Barbara Alvord who was first my District Manager and later my Agency Manager back during my insurance days in Phoenix. And last night we had dinner with a friend from more than thirty years ago, Anne Corley.  She and I met in Al-Anon during a very tough time in both our lives.  And yes, there is a connection between my Anne Corley and Beau’s Anne Corley.  I intended to name that character Anne Morley, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get my M finger to work faster than the C finger.  (This is a whole lot like trying to train myself to put only one space at the end of a sentence instead of the old archaic way of putting two—the way was taught to do it back when dinosaurs still roamed the earth.)  On the Morely/Corley Issue, I finally just gave up.  Anne Corley she is, in fiction and in real life!

And so, here we are now, turning off I-17 and headed to Prescott.

As former Governor Jack Williams used to say, “It’s another beautiful day in Arizona.  Leave us all enjoy it.”