new travis mcgee movie
He also used to regularly appear in commercials and advertisements as Mike Hammer in the 1970’s, which is kind of hard to imagine now. I also had to do the editorial notes on my story “The Dreadful Scott Decision,” which is appearing in the anthology The Faking of the President, edited by Peter Carlaftes of Three Rooms Press–they also published Florida Happens last year–and got that turned in; I also saw the cover, which was shared on Facebook.
Previous script drafts were done by Dana Stevens and Kario Salem. And…. So, you can IMAGINE my thrill that the MacDonald Estate allowed me to reprint one of his stories in Florida Happens. Mangold, who is separately developing another Wolverine film and other projects of his own, takes a job that at one time or another had just about every top director in Hollywood mulling it. He was sent to India in late 1943, and was accepted in the OSS in late 1944 . But it was early and the heart knocked sharply with a violence and in a cadence almost hysterical, so that no matter how he turned his head, he could feel it, a tack hammer chipping away at his mortality.
I started reading Mickey Spillane’s I the Jury yesterday as well. Looks like we made it to Friday again, Constant Reader, and believe you me, these small victories matter. Travis McGee has twice been translated to cinema and television; Rod Taylor played McGee in Darker Than Amber (1970), and Sam Elliott played him in the television movie of The Empty Copper Sea, entitled Travis McGee (1983). This was the great joke. Ordinarily I like writing stories to order–trying to come up with a story that fits a theme (and I usually will push those limits) is always a fun challenge; this one was a bit more difficult, and I am really happy with what I finally managed to come up with. After all, there’s no point in being sad, really–it doesn’t make anything better, does it?–and there’s really no sense in being sad or upset over things you have no control over. WOW)–which means I do have some distance from the books now, I still am the person who wrote them…even though I barely remember any of them now; I cannot recall plot points, or character names, outside of the regulars who populate every one of the books (I also cheated by using some of the same regulars in the Scotty series; Venus Casanova and Blaine Tujague, the police detective partners, appear in both series; and Paige Tourneur, Chanse’s best friend and a reporter, originally for the Times-Picayune who eventually moved on to become editor of Crescent City magazine, also turned up in the Scotty series, in Garden District Gothic and then again in Royal Street Reveillon. John D. MacDonald is one of my favorite authors. Reading the book, though, made me think more about writing another Chanse novel, which I think may happen at some point in the next few years.
Gunnarson is married and his wife is nine months pregnant and ready to give birth at any moment; more on that later. I also figured out how to revise two short stories I’ve been unable to get; one was simply because in order for the story’s title to work, one of the characters had to be a moron; and the other because it was a little too, shall we say, spot on? I first created the character of Chanse MacLeod while I was living in Houston in 1989, and the series was intended to be set in Houston as well.
I was sitting at a literary luncheon, for example, while the speaker was talking about his admiration for John D. MacDonald–an admiration I share–and in particular, about MacDonald’s Travis McGee series. The problem with genre fiction is that it tends to stagnate periodically and become repetitive and somewhat stale, until something comes along, shakes it up, and turns it upside down. But it’s also a pulp novel from the early 1960’s; Stark was a pseudonym for Donald Westlake, and it read very quickly and very fast….the main character, Parker, is described as an anti-hero; I’d say he’s more of a sociopath than anything else, really, although I do suppose to that does make him a bit of anti-hero….I am still thinking about the book, and will write more about it at another time, most likely. The ground of the back I watched from the little window. Thats how I saw the water falling from upstairs. I’d like to do Bury Me in Satin, but I am also interested in writing a short and nasty noir, which would inevitably be Muscles. I was there to interview a client, a young nurse named Ella Barker who had been arrested on a stolen-property charge. I did start taking notes and writing down ideas, because I would really like to write a critical essay on I the Jury, because there’s an awful lot there–misogyny, homophobia, racism–that, while it may reflect the time in which it was written and published (1947), is problematic for the modern, present-day reader. So, I retired to my easy chair and finished reading Mickey Spillane’s I the Jury.
I wanted to write about New Orleans, and I wanted to write a more hard-boiled, MacDonald like hero than what I was reading. As I read the book, it reminds me of something I’ve read before–perhaps not another Macdonald novel, but perhaps one of the Lew Archer short stories I read in The Archer Files last year when I was doing the Short Story Project. Mother so pretty and me decent enough. By the time he died he had published 78 books, with more than 75 million copies in print. But two years of writing 10 to 12 hours a day, 6 to 7 days a week, in 1945 and 1946, convinced him otherwise. But I am hardly an expert in crime fiction, either. Then, he takes “salvage consultant” jobs, recovering property for clients, taking a big percentage, and getting into misadventures along the way. And queer crime writers. Even without the horizontal brightness of the sun, he would have known it was early. I’ve also reached the point where I am no longer sad not to be at Bouchercon this weekend anymore. Chanse was originally, as a straight man, a graduate of Texas A&M and a two year veteran of the Houston Oilers; an injury eventually led to early retirement and joining the Houston PD, where he only lasted another three years before quitting and getting a private eye license. Written by MacDonald in 1964, “The Deep Blue Good-by” is the first in a series of 21 books that followed Travis McGee (Bale), a self-described “salvage consultant” who recovers others’ property for a fee and along the way gets into trouble fighting bad guys and wooing women. I don’t think I’ve read it before–to date, to the best of my knowledge I’ve not read any of Macdonald’s non-Archer novels, and that very much is what this one is; but it’s got Macdonald’s trademark writing style, and I am enjoying it. It says on it SCREENSTARS. 20th Century Fox has delayed production on its Travis McGee pic “The Deep Blue Goodby” after learning star Christian Bale suffered a knee injury at his home in Los Angeles. I also want to reiterate that my inability to finish reading Cottonmouths is not an indication of its quality at all; it’s amazing, but I only have a very short period of time to read every day, and I am always afraid that if I start reading it I won’t want to put it down–and that is very likely, as it is very good and I know myself–and if I do that I won’t get the things done I need to get done which will cause me stress. Travis McGee, a free-living bachelor and reluctant hero who lives on a houseboat in Florida, works as a "salvage consultant," recovering property and money for clients and taking half the fee in return.
The episodes are all between thirty-three and forty minutes long, and the premise is relatively simple. I have greatly enjoyed Lee Child’s Reacher series, and think it is one of the best of our modern times; however, I also stopped reading the series over ten years ago.
But the flame kept pulsing through the hole with a brightness that hurt his eyes, with a heat that parched his face, pulsing with an intermittent husky rasping sound.
His hands and feet were cool, yet where his thighs touched he was sweaty. By this time I’d discovered that gay fiction was actually a thing, and that queer mysteries actually existed: Joseph Hanson, Michael Nava, RD Zimmerman, etc. William Gunnarson, the main character of the book, is an attorney in a small California city named Buenavista, reminiscent of the town of Santa Teresa where some of the Archer books are set (and was later borrowed by Sue Grafton for her Kinsey Millhone books in a homage to MacDonald). He also lived in a one bedroom apartment on Camp Street, across the street from Coliseum Square in a converted Victorian, the living room also served as his office–and that was the same place where Paul and I lived when we first moved to New Orleans. And that doesn’t even take into consideration how Gunnarson treats his pregnant wife, Sally. And then I remember John D. MacDonald wrote a lot of books, but didn’t break out and hit bestseller lists until he was about forty or so books into his career, when he hit upon Travis McGee.
Look at you he said and didn’t have the nice face. Constant Reader. But I recently decided it was past time to give one of Ross MacDonald’s stand-alones a shot, and chose The Ferguson Affair.
Mangold is repped by WME and Management 360. I slept pretty well last night–although at some point Scooter cuddled up to me and woke me up with his purring, and he never stopped the entire time he was lying curled up inside my arm.
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