What a fantastic time I had at the 13^th annual Mystery Writers Conference run by Book Passage, a fiercely independent bookstore in Corte Madera, California.

The fact that it has taken me six months to get around to writing about it is only because my publisher asked me to write another book first. Now, that I’ve got that out of the way, let me tell you about this incredible event.

Book Passage has created a boot camp for mystery writers.

If you’re published, you may be lucky enough to get invited to be part of the faculty. I got to join a stellar cast of authors, agents, editors, and publishers, as well as cops, Feds, P.I.’s, and other crime fighting professionals.

If you’re not yet published, this is the place to come and learn how to cross the finish line. Many of the authors who are now on the faculty, are graduates of past Book Passage Conferences.

Day One started with a pre-conference workshop. Hallie Ephron, author of Writing and Selling Your Mystery Novel: How to Knock ’em Dead with Style, not only can write, she has the added gift of being able to teach about writing.

I sat in for part of it, and watched all those almost-published authors filling up note pads.

Then came the introductions. There were 90 students and 30 faculty members, many of whom have more weeks on The New York Times best seller list than I have frequent flyer miles. My first book had only been on the shelves for two months. I was waiting for someone to tell me I was sitting on the wrong side of the room.

Our pre-dinner speaker was John Lescroart, whose topic was What I Know Now That I Wish I Knew Then. John’s latest book was on the Best Seller list that week, but he couldn’t remember exactly if it was #6 or #8. Being famous isn’t as easy as it looks. I made a mental note to always know my ranking when my books are in the Top Ten.

After dinner, the speaker was Robert Crais. Normally I resent people who are handsome, funny, talented and incredibly successful, but Bob Crais was so charming, so funny, and so mesmerizing that I forgave him for having it all.

The next three days were a series of panels. Some focused on plot, dialogue, character, and all the other ingredients it takes to write a compelling book. Others featured agents, publishers, marketers and publicists who gave insight into navigating the business once that book is written.

There were private consultations for those students who wanted one-on-one time with an author. But with a three-to-one student-faculty ratio, and a warm collegial atmosphere, there was plenty of opportunity for students and faculty to spend quality time laughing, schmoozing, and telling war stories.

The four-day Book Passage Mystery Writers Conference is an annual event that is hosted by Elaine and Bill Petrocelli, who own Book Passage, and carefully planned, orchestrated and executed by Karen West. But this year, Karen’s plans got thrown for a loop.

With the conference schedule chiseled in stone, she got a call. Al Gore would like to come to Book Passage on the second night of the conference to promote his new book An Inconvenient Truth.

No problem.

And so, in the middle of all that murder and mayhem, we had one night of Gore. A crowd of 1,100 people showed up to hear the Vice-President speak and get a signed copy of his book. The well oiled machine at Book Passage handled it all. And later that evening, after the conference attendees got to hear Mr. Gore talk about global warming, we were right back on schedule listening to Denise Mina talk about cold-blooded killing.

The 14^th annual Book Passage Mystery Writers Conference is scheduled for June 21-24, 2007. If you’ve ever finished reading a great mystery and said to yourself, “I bet I can write one of these,” come to Corte Madera, California, and find out if you can.

Cops are not like doctors or lawyers or college professors who can keep working the same job till they’re 100 years old. 

Cops burn out young.  Like ball players or runway models or hookers.  That’s why every cop I know has a Plan B.   A lot of them want to go into private security.  Some want to go to law school.  They open bars and pizza joints, go into real estate or construction, and one cop I know even became a nurse. 

Me, I’m going to be a stand-up comic.

Being a homicide detective is a never-ending source of comic material.  You think Jerry Seinfeld is funny with his “what’s the deal with airline peanuts” routine?  That’s nothing compared to “you ever see a rookie cop go through his first autopsy?”  I can do about four minutes on that one.  I’ve tried it at a bunch of open mic nights.  I’m still fine tuning, but it’s getting there.

But for now, I’m still focused on my day job.  Catching scumbags, locking them up, making it stick.  Love every minute of it.

More important than The Job is my family.  I live with five women.  My wife Marilyn, my three daughters, two of which are applying to colleges, and a black Lab named Jett.  Jett used to belong to Big Jim, my partner’s father, but one day I was over his house with Emily, my youngest, and she fell in love with this dog.  She wanted one just like it.  Only Emily wanted a puppy. 

I figured why not?  A puppy in the house is every stand-up comic’s dream.  Just the housebreaking part alone could have an audience falling off their chairs.  But Marilyn invoked the No Puppy Clause in our pre-nup agreement.  The very thought of walking barefoot across the carpet and stepping in puppy poop that had me chuckling to myself was the exact same reason Marilyn said NFW.  With Marilyn, “no” could mean “maybe,” but NFW is a Definite Unwavering No.

“Rescue a grown-up housebroken dog.” she said.  To which my daughter said “there are no grown-up dogs like Jett.”  The next couple of weeks at the Biggs house was Mother-Daughter Hell.  Then one day Mike has this idea.  “Jim’s got four dogs,” he says.  “Skunkie’s the only one who lives in the house.  I’ll ask him if Emily can dog sit Jett for a while.  See how it works out.”

And that’s how I wound up with yet another female in the house who never listens to a thing I say. 

I don’t know anything about blogging, so I’m just gonna stop now.   If there’s anyone out there reading this, let me hear from you. 

It all started after we cracked the Lamaar case.  We turned our story into a book, the book got optioned for a movie and we have a second book in the works.

I can’t complain.  When you’re living off a cop’s salary, the extra income helps.

What I don’t like is all the media attention. We get invited to a lot of A List parties.  Terry usually goes.  I usually don’t.  I’m not interested in being the Hollywood Flavor of the Month.

Recently he says to me, “we need a website.”

“What the hell for,” I say.

“Our public.  People who want to know what we’re up to.”

“We’re cops,” I remind him.  “People shouldn’t know what we’re up to.  It’s our job to figure out what they’re up to.”

“Mike,” he says.  “Like it or not, we’ve got fans now.”

And that, in a nutshell, is the difference between me and my partner.  When I retire from LAPD I’d like to find a nice corporate security job.  No nights.  No weekends.  No fan clubs.  But Terry is stage struck.  “I want to be the next Tim Allen,” he says.  “Stand-up, a sit-com, then features.”

From tracking down murderers to stand-up comedy.  Not your most natural career transition.  But if that’s his dream, the least I can do is help him get there. 

So we got this website.  Thanks for visiting.  I’ll do my best to keep it interesting for you.