It is a great thing that my writerly ego is larger than the Sahara Desert, because, though I tried, valiantly, to get our local library to host myself (and the kids! I used the cuteness of the kids as an application weapon!) during their local author day, I received word yesterday* that we were not accepted as one of the presenting authors. While in my younger days I would have attempted to mobilize you, the vast internet army that has risen to our call to action in the past, I’m going to give it a pass on this one.

 I’m hoping that gives you fine folks, who’ve been such great supporters, a little well deserved rest. Consider this like a doctor’s note (though I’m not a doctor) to take a little time for yourself. You’re welcome.

Because, who knows, if one of you out there has Mollie Glick’s number or ear** I may be hitting you up to put in a good word for a very nice, very humble author of a little book about butterflies, a retired hockey player, his plumber wife, and Old Sturbridge Village. Amongst other things.

Coming soon to a bookshelf near you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* This sounds like I got a letter hand-delivered by some sweaty, grimy guy hopping off a horse, taking off his hat and wiping his brow while handing me the letter at the same time. This is not the case.

** Good God I hope not literally.

Hey fellas. How are you doing?

First off, thank you for the phone calls, faxes, emails, and cakes, all inscribed lovingly with the same message of support and care in the wake of my omission from the Batter Up! reading up in San Francisco on October 14th.

But the folks at LitQuake, who seem very nice, except a bit deficient in their knowledge of baseball fiction writers who happen to be in their own general vicinity, gave me a call and informed me that, unfortunately, it’s a bit too late to get me onto the program up at the Sports Basement this year. So no more need to call them or email them, begging to get me onto the stage. I appreciate the efforts, but this year you’ll just have to wait.

And, if the Red Sox aren’t still playing, I may be at the reading, so if you catch me there I’d be more than happy to do a personalized reading, just for you.

I’ve never been to a LitQuake before, but they have a fascinating list of events lined up, and Christopher Moore alone would be worth the price of admission (free) to the baseball reading. And if it’s anything like a GrubStreet event I’m sure it’ll be well-run with lots of literate-minded folks milling about to get your fires going.

In other news, I’m slogging through the final draft of Butterfly. It’s been a long time in the works, but I think it’s my best work yet, even better than the baseball fiction (some would argue this would not be a very high bar to surpass). So there is a good possibility that someone should just lock me in my room until I finish editing and start getting it sent off like some sort of communicable disease.

Update: No more: “LitQuake: Calling Off the Dogs”

Friends, dear good, great friends. I have a favor to ask of you. Maybe two.

 

“Oh God,” you’re saying, possibly aloud, drawing stares in the internet café in which you’re browsing Facebook. I’ve told you time and time again not to browse Facebook in internet cafés, but there you go, no stopping you. That skeezy guy looking over your shoulder, right now? He was just browsing his portfolio of GE and MSFT stocks seconds ago. I bet that just sends shivers down your spine, doesn’t it? Your spine that he’s likely nearly breathing on, right this very second.

 

Anyway.

 

But this favor, possibly two I have to ask of you, don’t panic. It’s the sort of favor that enriches the favor-giver, and, quite possibly, the entire human race. So it’s more like I’m doing a favor, possibly two, for *you*.

 

So I found out, via the incomparable Christopher Moore (@TheAuthorGuy) that the LitQuake folks are holding a reading up in San Francisco that is baseball themed. “Baseball themed!” I can hear you say, “but Matt, oh God, or are you insisting we all call you Matthew now, since that seems to be your writerly brand these days — regardless, Matt, Matthew, *you* write and sometimes read out loud baseball fiction! Surely you’re reading at this event! I can’t wait, I’ll be there with bells on, &c., &c.”

 

But here’s the secret: I’m not. Or, at least, no one’s *told* me I’m reading at this event, and, in my experience, if no one tells you you’re reading at an event you’re probably not supposed to get up on stage and just start reading.

 

Now, I’ll pause for a moment, to let you catch your breath. You okay? You’re not weeping, are you? Look, I’ll be okay. Really. This is part of the favor I have to ask of you. And I am *giving* to you. I want you to help me get on LitQuake’s radar, if that’s what they use, these days, instead of a submission manager like everyone else. I want to be like a tugboat, chugging up the Hudson River of LitQuake’s literary monitoring station. “BLARP!” (That is the literary equivalent/translation of what a tugboat’s whistle might sound like, in print.)

 

I would be honored, chuffed, and over the moon if you would contact the dear folks at LitQuake (http://www.litquake.org/contact-us) and ask them, beg them, promise them your first born (I cannot, sadly, reimburse you for first born children lost as a result of your begging) if Matthew Hanlon, the author of short stories that have appeared in books as diverse as “Fenway Fiction,” “Further Fenway Fiction,” and “Final Fenway Fiction,” all of which happen to be about baseball, could read at this very special, baseball-themed event. The same Matthew Hanlon who has been emailing them and calling them since he found out about the reading two days ago, so they should have his contact info. But, if not, they can email him at sanemagazine@mac.com (yes, this is a throwback for some of you).

 

And that’s it. The end of the first favor, and in which direction I’m still not quite sure it flows, so let’s just say you owe me one.

 

And… speaking of owing me one, hey, how’s about, should I be allowed to read, on stage, at the same general time as the other people reading, about baseball, how’s about you come up to San Francisco, head on over to the Sports Basement, sit down for a while and listen to people read about baseball? Christopher Moore will be there, who is a very entertaining speaker. As will *I*, because of the efforts of good buddies like *you*, who called, faxed, emailed, and semaphored LitQuake to lobby on my behalf. As much as I’ve enjoyed reading to an empty room in such diverse places as the Arlington Center for the Arts and the Charlton Public Library, it would be pleasant to read to friendly faces (and the friendly video phones you’re probably going to be holding up, recording the event like it’s the Dire Straits reunion tour).

 

 

Should all of this work out, I’ll even let you pick what I read! Have a vote in this exciting poll (http://wombatsdigit.com/w/2013/10/poll-reading-material-for-batter-up/) and you, too, can change the very course of history!

 

Thanks for reading.

 

This edition of Dublin Express was a special Kickstarter limited edition Colin Bateman produced himself. [http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/856843652/get-on-board-the-dublin-express]

The play, particularly, contains the sort of spectacularly hapless characters who attempt to wrestle some control and decorum into their lives, but, due to circumstances and conspiracies beyond their ken, they fail in an entertaining fashion. They’re the sort of characters Colin Bateman excels at writing and make for a great read.

If you have a chance to see it or get ahold of the script it’s well worth picking up.