Jim Zumbo is a well-known hunter and outdoors writer, with the top-rated program on the Outdoors Channel, sponsored by Remington. He was, until recently, a 40-year member of the NRA.

Ten days ago, Zumbo said something about assault rifles on his blog that brought his world crashing down. He said: “Excuse me, maybe I’m a traditionalist, but I see no place for these weapons among our hunting fraternity. As hunters, we do not need to be lumped into the group of people who terrorize the world with them...I’ll go so far as to call them ‘terrorist’ rifles.”

Profesionally, that was a big mistake. Remington dropped him. The NRA severed all ties with him. His career is pretty much dead.

I don’t mean to sound wishy-washy, but I can see both sides of this.

Considering Zumbo’s position, you have to admit his remarks were pretty stupid. I’m guessing Remington, one of his sponsors, makes ammo for assault rifles. Even if they don’t, it wasn’t smart for him to speak out against any facet of the industry.

Plus, he was making a very broad generalization. I know people who own assault rifles, and they are not terrorists. Would you say, “Well, the terrorists used a Toyota for their car bomb, so it’s obvious that Toyotas are terrorist weapons?”

On the other hand, doesn’t Zumbo have the right to speak his mind? Can’t members of the NRA have differing opinions, or do you get booted if you don’t think exactly as every other member?

One of Zumbo’s fellow outdoors writer, Pat Wray, said, “This shows the zealousness of gun owners to the point of actual foolishness. For so many years, Zumbo has been a voice for these people—for hunting and for guns—and they just turned on him in an instant. He apologized all over himself and it didn’t do any good.”

Wray is generalizing too, lumping all gun owners together. I imagine there are as many different opinions about this incident as there are calibers of weapons.

When I wrote Buck Fever, I included a few lines from the ZZ Top song “Mexican Blackbird.”

Why? I was ignorant.

I didn’t know that if the book sold, I’d have to get permission to use those lyrics. On the other hand, when you’re writing your first novel, you tend not to worry about stuff like that. Because you don’t expect your novel to sell anyway.

But it did, and when I got the copyedited manuscript back, there was a note asking me about those lyrics. Did I have permission? Uh, no. So I went to work trying to contact ZZ Top, and I ended up trading emails with the director of licensing at their publisher. Basically, I told her that it was my first novel and it would have a fairly small print run. In other words, I was hinting that I didn’t have any money to spend. Didn’t matter. I didn’t receive permission. In fact, when I revealed that I had no budget, I never heard from her again. I had to edit the scene, omitting the lyrics. I’m a big ZZ Top fan, so it was disappointing.

Did I learn my lesson? Well, hell no.

In Bone Dry, I used some lyrics from the classic Hee Haw song (“Pfft, You Was Gone”) by Bix Reichner. It wasn’t just a mention, either; the lyrics played a crucial role in a pivotal scene, and I couldn’t live without them. Again, the copyeditor asked me if I had permission, and I had to scramble.

Fortunately, it was a completely different experience this time.

I started by surfing the Web, trying to figure out who to contact. I found a page for the company that produced (or licensed, or handled the rights to) Hee Haw. I emailed a woman out of the blue, at random, explaining my situation, and figured I’d never hear back. Wrong.

She got back to me very quickly, giving me the address for the songwriter’s daughters, who now held the rights to that song. I sent them a letter. It took a little while, but I eventually heard back, and after they saw an excerpt of the book, they granted permission. For free. All they requested was a couple of signed books. Great people to be so nice to a total stranger.

I didn’t include any lyrics in the third book, Flat Crazy, but I did in Guilt Trip. I wanted to include a few lines from a Derailers song. I planned ahead this time, and sought permission early. The problem was, the band’s lead singer was leaving, and they were in a bit of turmoil at the time. I got ahold of the manager, and he gave me the lead singer’s email address. (The leader singer had written the song and owned the copyright.) I emailed him, but never heard back. Understandable. Fortunately, the lyrics weren’t crucial to the story, and I was able to delete them painlessly (but it was still a bummer because I’m a fan).

So, two out of three times, including lyrics in my manuscript was problematic.

In my next novel, Gun Shy, I wrote my own damn song. You’ll see.

My paternal great-grandfather, Julius Rehder, was an artist by trade. He worked in oils and watercolors, and was particularly good with portraits. I don’t know much about art, but I like his paintings a lot. I have three of his paintings (all portraits of family members) hanging in my office, and my aunt and uncle have been generous enough to pass several other works along to me.

Julius’s son, Helmut Rehder (my grandfather) was the head of the German department at the University of Texas for many years. He had several close friends among the faculty, one of whom was a man named Stanley. A few months ago, Stanley’s widow emailed my uncle about one of Julius’s painting that she had in her possession. I think she was clearing some things out of her house, preparing for a future move, and she wondered if one of the Rehders might want the painting back.

So I went to see her and we had a very nice chat. I took her one of my books—a small thank-you for her kindness—and we began to talk about the publishing industry. During this conversation, she mentioned that her great-nephew (her niece’s son) was also an author, and he was doing pretty well. I asked what his name was. She said it was Michael Chabon.

Well, okay. She had signed copies of all his books, and suddenly my offering seemed pretty paltry.

I was tempted to ask her if maybe Michael would be willing to read my latest book and perhaps blurb it, but that would’ve been pretty crass, I think. Not that I haven’t been crass before. Some people might even wonder when I’m not crass.

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On an unrelated note, this morning they had a story on the Today show about a Forbes magazine guy (the CEO?) attempting to go seven days without his cell phone, computer, and Blackberry.

If you read my books, you’ve probably gathered that I’m not much of a fan of cell phones. Generally, the quality sucks, and calls are more of a hassle then they are worth. Plus, people act like idiots when they use them. I’ve railed on them before, but there can’t be too much slander against cell phones.

Anyway, I don’t have a cell phone, but I do, obviously, have a computer. I think email is fantastic, partly because it means I don’t have to talk to people. I rarely answer the phone, usually only when I think it’s my wife calling (and I don’t have caller ID, so I can never be sure, unless I wait for my answering machine--yes, it’s an answering machine, not voicemail--to pick up). But, yes, email is great. And so is the Internet, really, if you’re not some sort of nut who will become addicted to it. Ninety-five percent of my Internet usage has to do with my books. The other five percent seems to be looking up song lyrics or names of actors whose faces I can’t quite place. Other than that, I got kind of bored with random surfing several years ago.

Anyway, back to the Today show guy....He went forty hours before he literally broke down in tears and wanted his cell phone back. He was afraid his six-year-old daughter wouldn’t be able to reach him when he went out of town. Not that there was any particular reason she’d need to reach him. But he’d become so accustomed to the constant staying in touch, through calls and text messages, that he couldn’t give it up.

He said he felt very odd when he didn’t have his phone and Blackberry with him. That’s weird, because I feel very strange when I carry my wife’s cell phone with me. I’m worried that it might ring. Then I’d have to answer it, or it would begin to beep at me all the time, and I don’t know how to access voicemail, and what’s the point because the voicemail wouldn’t be for me.

All I know is, I get along fine without a cell phone or a Blackberry, and if push came to shove, I could get along fine without email or the Internet, too. We all could. We’d talk on regular phones like we used to, or send faxes, or mail actual letters, and the quality of most people’s lives wouldn’t be that different. I realize that there are some people for whom the technology has truly been a godsend (shut-ins, for instance), but for the rest of us, it’s just another toy. And the toys I prefer are motorcycles and deer rifles. And books. Books are the best toys.

I'm slow in reporting this, but the Edgar Award nominees were announced last month......

BEST NOVEL
The Pale Blue Eye by Louis Bayard (HarperCollins)
The Janissary Tree by Jason Goodwin (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)
Gentleman and Players by Joanne Harris (HarperCollins – William Morrow)
The Dead Hour by Denise Mina (Hachette Book Group - Little, Brown and Company)
The Virgin of Small Plains by Nancy Pickard (Random House – Ballantine Books)
The Liberation Movements by Olen Steinhauer (St. Martin's Minotaur)

BEST FIRST NOVEL BY AN AMERICAN AUTHOR
The Faithful Spy by Alex Berenson (Random House)
Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (Crown - Shaye Areheart Books)
King of Lies by John Hart (St. Martin's Minotaur – Thomas Dunne Books)
Holmes on the Range by Steve Hockensmith (St. Martin's Minotaur)
A Field of Darkness by Cornelia Read (Warner Books – Mysterious Press)

BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL
The Goodbye Kiss by Massimo Carlotto (Europa Editions)
The Open Curtain by Brian Evenson (Coffee House Press)
Snakeskin Shamisen by Naomi Hirahara (Bantam Dell Publishing – Delta Books)
The Deep Blue Alibi by Paul Levine (Bantam Dell Publishing – Bantam Books)
City of Tiny Lights by Patrick Neate (Penguin Group – Riverhead Books)

BEST FACT CRIME
Strange Piece of Paradise by Terri Jentz (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
A Death in Belmont by Sebastian Junger (W.W. Norton and Co.)
Finding Amy: A True Story of Murder in Maine by Capt. Joseph K. Loughlin & Kate Clark Flora (University Press of New England)
Ripperology: A Study of the World's First Serial Killer by Robin Odell (The Kent State University Press)
The Beautiful Cigar Girl: Mary Rogers, Edgar Allan Poe and the Invention of Murder by Daniel Stashower (Dutton)
Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer by James L. Swanson (HarperCollins – William Morrow)

BEST CRITICAL/BIOGRAPHICAL
Unless the Threat of Death is Behind Them: Hard-Boiled Fiction and Film Noir by John T. Irwin (Johns Hopkins University Press)
The Science of Sherlock Holmes: From Baskerville Hall to the Valley of Fear by E.J. Wagner (John Wiley & Sons)

BEST SHORT STORY
"The Home Front" – Death Do Us Part by Charles Ardai (Hachette Book Group – Little, Brown and Company)
"Rain" – Manhattan Noir by Thomas H. Cook (Akashic Books)
"Cranked" – Damn Near Dead by Bill Crider (Busted Flush Press)
"White Trash Noir" – Murder at the Foul Line by Michael Malone (Hachette Book Group – Mysterious Press)
"Building" – Manhattan Noir by S.J. Rozan (Akashic Books)

BEST JUVENILE
Gilda Joyce: The Ladies of the Lake by Jennifer Allison (Penguin Young Readers – Sleuth/Dutton)
The Stolen Sapphire: A Samantha Mystery by Sarah Masters Buckey (American Girl Publishing)
Room One: A Mystery or Two by Andrew Clements (Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers)
The Bloodwater Mysteries: Snatched by Pete Hautman & Mary Logue (Penguin Young Readers – Sleuth/Putnam)
The Case of the Missing Marquess: An Enola Holmes Mystery by Nancy Springer (Penguin Young Readers – Philomel/Sleuth)

BEST YOUNG ADULT
The Road of the Dead by Kevin Brooks (Scholastic – The Chicken House)
The Christopher Killer by Alane Ferguson (Penguin YR – Sleuth/Viking)
Crunch Time by Mariah Fredericks (Simon & Schuster – Richard Jackson Books/Atheneum)
Buried by Robin Merrow MacCready (Penguin YR – Dutton Children's Books)
The Night My Sister Went Missing by Carol Plum-Ucci (Harcourt Children's Books)

BEST PLAY
Sherlock Holmes: The Final Adventure by Steven Dietz (Arizona Theatre Company)
Curtains by Rupert Holmes (Ahmanson Theatre)
Ghosts of Ocean House by Michael Kimball (The Players' Ring)

BEST TELEVISION EPISODE TELEPLAY
The Closer – "Blue Blood", Teleplay by James Duff & Mike Berchem (Turner Network Television)
Dexter – "Crocodile", Teleplay by Clyde Phillips (Showtime)
House – "Clueless", Teleplay by Thomas L. Moran (Fox/NBC Universal)
Life on Mars – Episode 1, Teleplay by Matthew Graham (BBC America)
Monk – "Mr. Monk Gets a New Shrink", Teleplay by Hy Conrad (USA Network/NBC Universal)

BEST TELEVISION FEATURE/MINI-SERIES TELEPLAY
Conviction, Teleplay by Bill Gallagher (BBC America)
Cracker: A New Terror, Teleplay by Jimmy McGovern (BBC America)
Messiah: The Harrowing, Teleplay by Terry Cafolla (BBC America)
Secret Smile, Teleplay by Kate Brooke, based on the book by Nicci French (BBC America)
The Wire, Season 4, Teleplays by Ed Burns, Kia Corthron, Dennis Lehane, David Mills, Eric Overmyer, George Pelecanos, Richard Price, David Simon & William F. Zorzi (Home Box Office)

BEST MOTION PICTURE SCREENPLAY
Casino Royale, Screenplay by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade & Paul Haggis, based on novel by Ian Fleming (MGM)
Children of Men, Screenplay by Alfonso Cuarón, Timothy J. Sexton, David Arata, Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, based on a novel by P.D. James (Universal Pictures
The Departed, Screenplay by William Monahan (Warner Bros. Pictures)
The Good Shepherd, Teleplay by Eric Roth (Universal Pictures)
Notes on a Scandal, Screenplay by Patrick Marber (Scott Rudin Productions)

ROBERT L. FISH MEMORIAL AWARD
William Dylan Powell
"Evening Gold" – EQMM November 2006 (Dell Magazines)

GRAND MASTER
Stephen King

RAVEN AWARDS
Books & Books (Mitchell Kaplan, owner)
Mystery Loves Company Bookstore (Kathy & Tom Harig, owners)

THE SIMON & SCHUSTER-MARY HIGGINS CLARK AWARD
Bloodline by Fiona Mountain (St. Martin's Minotaur)

Right now, I’m reading Derailed by James Siegel. Never read anything by him before, but I’m hooked so far. Sometimes the best stories are the simplest ones.

I still have some Red O’Brien bumperstickers left. If you want one, and I haven’t sent you one already, and you truly will stick it on your vehicle, email me through my website and I’ll mail you one. First come, first served. Sorry, U.S. addresses only, because mailing to other countries generally requires a trip to the post office, and I’m too lazy for that.

The first review of Gun Shy is due in a couple weeks. Kirkus is reviewing it in their March 1 issue. Cross your fingers for me, please.

My next book is due to my editor in two months, so I’m working extremely hard. (Which, for me, means stopping at five o’clock.) I hate to break for lunch, or even to go to the bathroom. Fortunately, a certain astronaut gave me an idea. Let me just say, Snuggies are a tremendous time-saver.

My wife and I watched Talladega Nights recently. Is it just me, or was that one of the worst movies of the year? Some of the scenes were painfully long and unfunny. I think Will Ferrell should quit writing his own stuff. The out-takes were the best part, and that doesn’t speak very well for the movie.

It’s Valentines Day, so I think we should all pause to remember that sex is one of the most pure, clean, and wholesome things that money can buy. (Thank you, Steve Martin.)