Writer's Grove
Whiskey Row
This post isn’t about whiskey. But I could see how you’d think that, what with the title and all. Nope, this is about a destination.
Whiskey Row is in downtown Prescott, Arizona. It’s famous for an awful lot of rows begun by men who drank too much whiskey. And, of course, there used to be a whole row of bars there in the days when people only bathed seasonally. There still are quite a few bars there, but they’re interspersed with gift shops and scented candle stores now that people bathe more often. It tells you how far Arizona’s come in a hundred years: we used to just need booze, but now we need booze and a way to smell good afterward.
On the corner of Gurley and Montezuma is the St. Michael Hotel. It’s over a century old, which is “old” for Arizona. Teddy Roosevelt stayed there. John L. Sullivan did too, and I was told by my paternal grandmother (maiden name of Sullivan) that I’m distantly related to him somehow. (I only remembered that today, when I saw a plaque with his name on it affixed to the hotel. I sorta thought, “Wow. You know you’re famous when your sleeping arrangements get marketed to future generations.”And I might not be related to him at all—Grandma’s story might have been blarney; I think he’s someone every Irishman wishes he was related to, because he kicked a lot of ass and his mustache was epically virile.)
In any case, my family and I decided to sup in the bistro located on the ground floor of said establishment. It looked like this:
We were early so that’s why the joint looks deserted. I ordered a broiled portobello stuffed with artichoke, spinach, tomato, zucchini and parmesan spread out on a red pepper coulis. Jasmine rice and veggies on the side. It looked like this and it was nummy:
I gave the cauliflower to my daughter because I can’t eat that stuff. It looks like braaaaains.
We were visiting Whiskey Row today because there’s a very cool photographer up there named Amy Ryland, and if I absolutely must let someone take my picture, then it’s gotta be her. She found a spiffy stone wall on Whiskey Row and shot me there for my author photo. Brace yourself.
As promised, I eschewed the infamous and ubiquitous Author Chin Cradle. (Though I’m leaving my Profile Chin Cradle up on the right sidebar, and I’ll also continue to use it on Twitter and Facebook because it cracks me up.) I didn’t give into temptation and stand in front of a bookcase, either. Nope, this is Stone Cold Whiskey Row, and there’s a twinkle in my eye because that tends to happen when I’m in close proximity to that much whiskey.
I think you can click on the picture to enlarge it, but I’d recommend that you resist the urge, because there’s only so much cute chubby Irish guy you can handle.
My editor tells me that Advance Reader Editions of Hounded will be available sometime in December. I have no idea how many they will print or who will get them: It’s a mystery. But O, frabjous day! My cover shouldn’t be a mystery for much longer! For one thing, there will be a poster of it on display at the New York Comic Con next weekend. If you’re going to be there, stop by the Del Rey booth and check it out. :)
