I know this is last-minute, but I completely spaced out...

I'm going to be on a radio show tonight---Writers, Authors, n' More, with host Megan Willingham on AdviceRadio.com.

It starts at 7:00 p.m Central time, which is in less than three hours.

If you'd like to call in and ask questions or make comments, the number is 800-405-6425.

If you're more technically accomplished than I am, you can listen online, at, well, www.AdviceRadio.com.

Hope to hear from you.

Had a great signing at the Barnes & Noble in Westlake (west side of Austin) last night. (A big shout-out to the lovely and talented Jo Virgil, CRM extraordinaire.)

I used to live across the street from this B&N, back when there was nothing here but cows and trees. We're talking nearly thirty years ago. I used to have a treehouse about a hundred yards from where the store stands. Prime real estate.

The first shot is the crowd, who was under the impression that I’d be entertaining. The second shot is the crowd (still waiting for me to deliver) from the other side of the room. The third shot is Ronnie and Ben playing the roles of Billy Don and Red. Two words for you, guys: acting classes. The fourth shot is my wife’s thumb. And isn’t it an exquisite thumb? Or maybe it’s a finger. In either case, exquisite.

To New York tomorrow. Update when I get back.

PS: Thanks, Patrick Beach!

The Austin American-Statesman was kind enough to run a lengthy profile on me and my books this morning. I’m thrilled with it, because it captures the spirit of the books very well. A few friends have sent me e-mails, congratulating me. Which reminds me of a story...

Not long after the first book (Buck Fever) came out, Publishers Weekly named it as one of the best mysteries of the year. That particular morning, my wife and I were installing ceramic tile in one of our bathrooms. I was in the process of removing the toilet when my editor called. He was very excited, and of course we were, too. He faxed the article, and we reveled in the moment. Then the moment passed, and Becky said something like, “What do you want to do now?” I said, “Well, I guess I’ll finish removing the toilet.”

Ah, good times.

Anyway, if you’re interested, you can see the Statesman article at...

http://www.statesman.com/life/content/life/stories/books/05/29/0529rehder.html

On Thursday, I drove down to Corpus Christi for a signing at the Barnes & Noble. Waiting for me was a young man named Braxton Harris, and we had a good conversation (meaning I babbled at him for quite some time). Turns out Braxton knows several of the game wardens I know, and in fact Braxton is planning to become a warden. There’s heavy competition for the open spots, but after speaking to him (or at him) for an hour, I have no doubt he’ll get selected. Braxton, if you’re reading this, thanks for coming by. And don’t arrest me later, okay? I know it’s hard to believe, but the governor granted me special rights to shoot deer anywhere I want, day or night. Below is a photo of Braxton (wearing his Texas Game Warden Association T-shirt) and another loyal reader (with her husband in tow). I had her name written down, but I misplaced it, so forgive me, uh, I’ll call you Gretchen. (My thanks to Ursula, the lovely CRM.)

I stayed at the Motel 6 that night (didn’t I tell you I was a bargain traveler?) and it was pretty crummy. Mildewy smelling. Of course, we were near the Gulf, so every motel probably smells mildewy. And yes, once again, I got a late-night phone call. Some moron called at about 1:00 a.m. and asked an obscene question. I’m too embarrassed to repeat it here. I called him an effing idiot, hung up, then unplugged the phone. It’s standard practice for me to unplug the phone when I’m on the road, but I’d forgotten to do it this time. After all this time, it still amazes me how often the phone rings in the middle of the night when you stay at a Motel 6. Tom Bodett doesn’t mention that fact in the radio spots. Wish I had his number so I could forward the calls to him.

Friday morning, I hit the road at about 9:00 and it rained for two solid hours on my way to San Antonio. I stopped to see my mom and stepdad for lunch, then did some drop-in signings at a couple of stores. That includes Remember The Alibi (great name, huh?), where I met the new owner, Ray Hengst. Ray and Sue would be happy to sell you a signed copy of Gun Shy. Just email them at rtalibi@sbcglobal.net or call them at (210) 344-7776. Tell them I sent you.

My signing that evening was at the Fiesta Trails B&N, where about ten people showed up to hear me speak. I attached a photo below, but I forgot to take photos until most of the people had left. But there were about ten people throughout the night. Really. Why would I lie? Okay, yeah, but why else? Audience members included Barbara, Polly, Danny, Melinda, Marvin, Janet (I think), several who slipped away before I could get my claws into them, and Ellen (the lovely CRM).

Yesterday, I visited the B&N in Round Rock, where one of my most loyal readers was waiting. Thanks, Susan! (You, too, Sonny, for snapping photos.) They didn’t bring their boys along this time, and they didn’t have a plausible explanation, so I think they sold them on the black market. Hope you got a decent price, guys. Then my friend (and fellow author) Marsha Moyer showed up with her mother Barbara. It actually started to look like I was popular. Then everybody left. Okay, just me again. But wait. Another mega-loyal reader, Joe, showed up with his family. I didn’t have a camera, so I don’t have any pictures of them, so you’ll just have to trust that they’re not imaginary. I also signed a book for a young boy’s dad, and you’ll notice that the boy had a copy of one of Rick Riordan’s books. Rick is doing phenomenally well, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Rick is one of the most genuinely friendly people you’ll ever meet, except for that time he tried to run me over with his Suburban. Just kidding. It was an Expedition. (My thanks to Frank, the lovely CRM. All CRMs are lovely, you see.)

Going to New York on Thursday. I really love New York, especially the vomit in the streets, and the sweet smell of exhaust. Will report back later.

I like to think of myself as a fairly modest guy. For instance, I would never mention that I can run the mile in less than four minutes, or that I invented carbonated water. But what’s a boy to do when good reviews come out? Ignore them? Not a wise move, PR-wise. No, the modern-day author has learned that you have to promote nonstop to make headway in this bidness. That means sharing reviews, which can also be seen as bragging. Gotta do it anyway. (Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.)

Here’s the latest from the San Antonio Express-News....

Book Review: Murder, fun and politics in Blanco County

Jennifer Roolf Laster
Express-News Staff Writer

Gun Shy: A Novel

By Ben Rehder

St. Martin's Minotaur, $24.95

The opening scene of Texan Ben Rehder's latest work, "Gun Shy," hits the metaphorical target.

Good old boy extraordinaire Dale Stubbs, president of the Texas chapter of the National Weapons Alliance, is addressing a rally of NWA members, exhorting them to support his chosen gubernatorial candidate and inviting them to a special Fourth of July event at the Blanco County ranch of country music superstar and NWA spokesperson Mitch Campbell. As the hall becomes a "full-on madhouse" of fainting women and shouting men, worked into a frenzy by Stubbs' glorious vision, the chapter president "knew, without question, that the NWA was about to enter its golden age."

As we say down here in the Lone Star State, that dog won't hunt.

Without giving away too much, let's just say the golden boy spokesman whose hit "My Cold Dead Hands" made him a household name has a big weakness for mind-altering substances and women and an even bigger secret in his past. Stubbs himself has a few secrets, including a nubile young secretary that he'd like to keep under cover. And the NWA is under fire, if you will, from SNATCH. That's the Society of Nonviolent Americans to Control Handguns, a left-wing organization with a flair for the dramatic and, on occasion, the ridiculous.

Throw in a mysteriously killed day laborer, a half-cocked political cartoonist, a gubernatorial candidate with some dirty dealings, a 1980s sex symbol lobbying the parole board, officers of the law with dueling opinions of the gun control movement, and Billy Don and Red, two hillbillies who are as cluelessly offensive as they are sincerely charming, and you've got a thriller with more turns than a Hill Country highway.

There's also the vigilante killer who murders in particularly unique ways, a paparazzo with a personal agenda, and a transsexual desperate to find some quick cash for surgery.

This is the fifth installment of Rehder's Blanco County series featuring Blanco County Game Warden John Marlin, and with it Rehder secures his place as the Carl Hiaasen of Texas. Replete with zany characters, the plot is intricately constructed and peppered with allusions to modern culture. Hunting accidents "happened more often than people realized," postulates one of the characters. "Just ask Dick Cheney."

Rehder writes with an assured hand and a knowing tip of the wide-brimmed cowboy hat to the ways and wiles of the characters that people his distinctly Texan landscape. A city transplant calls Marlin, the game warden, to alert him that there are deer along the road to his home. "I think they got loose," he tells Marlin.

"Got loose from where?" Marlin asked.

"Wherever you keep them at night. "

The list of characters here is lengthy, perhaps a bit too lengthy, and a few members of the supporting cast blur together. But readers can still enjoy the meat of the story without worrying too much about distinguishing between the revolving core of eccentrics, and the main characters are well and believably drawn. And while the book certainly exposes the underbelly of both the mythical NWA and its rival SNATCH, it's not a political treatise — just a darn good read. Satirical and often laugh-out-loud funny, the novel is insightful and often touching.

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Ben Rehder signs books at 7 p.m. Friday at the Fiesta Trails Barnes & Noble at Interstate 10 and De Zavala Road.

Jennifer Roolf Laster is a copy editor for the Express-News.