Question: Since you’ve been going out and doing things to promote your books, what has been the most interesting or memorable experience you have had doing that promotion?

This one is easy, unfortunately. And, it gives a great example of just how dumb I can be sometimes when my mind is just focused on my writing. It happened a year and a half ago as I was trying to get more word out about Disruption, my first Emily Graham novel. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that, during my research for Disruption I had talked with a couple of FBI agents, one retired from New York, and the other here at our local FBI office. I also had contact with an agent in D.C. who helped with other connections, and asked me to send her a copy of the book so she could put it in the FBI Academy Library. Because of that, I got to thinking that it might be nice to take a copy of Disruption out to our local FBI office as kind of a way to say “Thank You!” for their earlier contacts. And that, my friends, is where my brain missed a few things that it should not have missed.

It was a beautiful late Summer’s day when my wife and I drove into town to do some shopping, and make just a quick stop to drop the book off at the FBI office. I had it in a nice, addressed envelop, with a cover letter inside personally addressed to the top guy, and as we drove our pickup to the gate I will be honest enough to admit the fantasy that was running through my head. I would drop the book off and a few days later would get the phone call. It would be that top agent. He would be calling to say how much they all had enjoyed the book, and would invite me to come out and meet everyone, take a personal tour of the place, and before I left they would all offer to help with the next book.

That was the fantasy.

It lived long enough for me to pull up to the gate and hand the envelope out the window to the guard walking toward us from the guard house. I think it was the look in his eyes that did it…that’s what killed the fantasy.

“May I help you sir?” he said. I’m not sure if it was the way he said, “Sir”, the look in his eyes as he glanced at me, then the envelope, then at me again, or if it was when he glanced back at the guard house and the second guard stepped out. Or, maybe it was the fact that both of them were armed, and their hands had slowly moved in the direction of those arms. That’s when my brain kind of woke-up and yelled at me.

“ARE YOU NUTS?!” my brain said. “You drive up to an armed gate of the FBI office, in a pickup truck, stick an envelope out the window and say ‘I’m dropping this by for Agent so-and-so,’ who just happens to be the number one agent in the place, and one of the people these two guys are at the gate to protect from people who might drive-up in a pick-up truck and try to do something stupid.

“Is he expecting this, sir?” the first guard said.

“Uh, no, I just wanted to drop it by.”

“Does he know you sir?”

“Uh….” I’m not sure exactly what I said after that because my brain was screaming too loudly as it saw the first guard slowly moving back away from me and my truck, and the second guard moving forward, but slightly to the South, which my brain immediately determined was to give each of them a clear line of fire without the risk of them shooting each other.

I do know that I explained that it was a book in the envelope, and I mentioned the other agent who had met with me and helped in the research, and I mentioned the agent in D.C. and the fact that she was putting my book in the FBI Academy Library. I may have also mentioned something about the Labrador Retriever I had when I was seven that would fetch the walnuts I used to throw from the big walnut tree in our backyard…I really can’t remember all that I said.

The only truly conscious thought I had, other than just how stupid I really was, was how wonderfully grateful I was that I hadn’t followed my original plan and brought the big propane tank from the grill with us to refill at the store after dropping off the book. Two unknown people with an envelope, in a pickup truck with a big propane tank in the back, yeah, that would have added an entirely other element to the event.

At some point I must have said something that convinced them I was more dumb than threat, and Guard #1 held out a gloved hand and cautiously took the envelop from me. He carefully looked inside, turned to his partner and nodded. As Guard #2 walked back to the guard house, Guard #1 one said, “I’ll take this sir, but I can’t guarantee it will get to him.”

I said something intended to mean, “Thank You”, and slowly backed the truck from the gate. As I drove away, Guard #1 was still standing there holding the envelop. He watched us until we had turned and disappeared around the corner. I started breathing again after another ten minutes or so.

My wife just sat there, staring at me with that look on her face. Every husband knows that look. She didn’t have to say a word. Just the look.

In case you are wondering, no, I did not get a call a few days later with the invitation to come out for the tour.

And I don’t know if the book got to the Agent In Charge or if anyone out there ever read it, or even opened it. My hunch is that the envelop went directly into that little box they put stuff in to blow it up.

I’ve written two more Agent Emily Graham books since that day, but I haven’t made the attempt to take a copy of either of them out there. In fact, I’ve not driven within five blocks of our local FBI offices since that afternoon. I just don’t have the nerve.