Archive for the ‘Message from M.A.C.’ Category

What We Did on Our Summer Vacation

Tuesday, August 12th, 2025

You may have noticed that the last two updates were rather shy of text – mostly pictures of what went on for the last several weeks. I am here to correct that.

The San Diego Comic-Con was, as they say, “the best of times, the worst of times.” Our son Nathan brought his entire family (wife Abby and our two grandkids, Sam and Lucy), which made the trip special. They were in a different wing of the Marriott Marquis, and to some degree operated on their own separate track. Nate attended all three of my panels, and the whole brood attended the other two.

Let’s start with the “best.” I was an Invited Guest, which brought with it various perks, including getting our hotel room paid for and a meal allowance. I was assigned three panels. I had my doubts about the first panel, hosted by San Diego’s Mysterious Galaxy book store; it included moderator Betty Ramirez, Arvind Ethan David, Delilah S. Dawson, Adam Cesare, Ted Van Alst Jr., and of course yrs truly. When I read about it, the panel seemed like a bunch of writers tossed together who didn’t have much in common. One of those panels that cons avail themselves of to make sure all the invited guests got at least one panel.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was an extremely lively affair, and you can watch it right here:

The other two panels had me interviewed first by Robert Meyer Burnett, director of True Noir: The Assassination of Anton Cermak; and second by Andrew Sumner of Titan Books. Both Rob and Andrew are pals of mine and both interviews were a pleasure. Both men are knowledgeable about my work, and took different approaches, which meant the two panels taken together covered just about everything.

I did several signings, two official convention ones and one each with publishers Titan and First Comics. All of these were gratifying because fans (or customers, as Mickey Spillane used to put it) had brought all sorts of stuff for me to sign. It’s fascinating to me to see which of my properties an individual reader will gravitate toward – this was everything from Batman and Wild Dog to Road to Perdition and Nathan Heller, with some Quarry thrown in for good measure.

Lovely people to connect with, but kind of melancholy for me, as this is almost certainly my last San Diego con.

Which us to the “worst” part. I have some mobility issues that cause me no problems on familiar turf, but the crowd congestion and the long walks between panel rooms had me using my cane (a replica of Gene Barry’s on Bat Masterson, a TV show boomers will recall). It was tiring and frustrating, and the convention floor was jammed at all times. Even crowded, this used to be heaven to me – I could find all sorts of things to tempt me, including original art and physical media (Blu-rays and DVDs). Barb and I put together a game plan to get me to just the booths I wanted, for either buying goodies or talking to a publisher’s rep. This worked well, and I picked up wonderful stuff at the Hermes booth and Fantagraphics, but was unsuccessful connecting with anyone in editorial at the DC booth.

Turned out there was almost zero physical media, and the original art had skyrocketed in price. Art that would have cost in fairly recent years a few hundred dollars were now in the high thousands. No longer a game I can afford to suit up for.

But – despite an awful amenities-impoverished hotel room, which I am glad not to have paid for – it was a pleasure being with my family in such a beautiful place on the ocean. Unfortunately, the town had jacked up its already onerous prices to take advantage of con-goers – for example, a key restaurant at the hotel had dropped its lunch menus and served dinner all day instead. What had seemed a generous meal allotment was laughable compared to the Southern California prices.

Our usual trip to Ghirardelli’s in the Gaslight Quarter was a nightmare – packed streets made it nearly impossible to get for hot fudge Sundaes, and an unwillingess of Uber and Lyft to pick us up after had our family squeezing into a pedal cab and taking a breakneck ride back to the hotel – only to be charged $300 for the privilege, thanks to rates hidden below the legs of seated customers. Truly a nightmarish experience, and Ghirardelli’s itself was a horror – stuffed with people, uncleared tables and a single uni-sex bathroom.

Among the more comical joys of the trip was the adventure Barb and I had with a scooter she’d rented, anticipating my mobility problems. We practiced in the hotel hallway and she got pretty good, and so did I, but the thing ran too fast, unless hitting people like bowling pins was the goal. She tried it in a typical crowd and quickly we turned back, with Barb admitting defeat (a rarity on her part). But by the time we took our scooter over to Seaport Village, where a beautiful view and strolling tourists and an array of restaurants awaited, we had both mastered the speed problem with our trusty scooter. I eventually did most of the driving, but Barb was better at it.

Other joys included running into old friends, like Leonard Maltin and his family; and my inability to connect with DC editorial was cured when the very editor I wanted to speak to (about a possible Perdition collection) recognized me at the Marriott breakfast buffet ($40 bucks per and a limit of 19 minutes to have “all you could eat”).

When we made it home, after the usual airline delays, little Muscatine, Iowa, looked incredibly good to us, and Barb declared this our last trip by air, and to anywhere even by car that was more than a day trip or perhaps an overnight stay.

Nonetheless, we were only home a few days before heading to the Star City Film Festival, held in Waukon, Iowa, a little gem of a town (Muscatine is a metropolis by way of comparison) near the Minnesota border. Waukon looks to be a more or less straight line above us, as the crow flies, but Google Maps foretold a trip that would take three hours and change. Not bad. All paths to Waukon seemed to require making this turn and that, and going from one highway to another, with hardly any four-lanes in the mix.

I am a hopeless navigator, but I worked hard and, initially, quite successfully from three pages of Google Map instructions. Barb (the driver) and I were chipper and laughing and talking about what a great adventure this was. Then we found ourselves on a gravel road. Shit! Thank you, Google Maps! (Please don’t ask me why we didn’t use GPS.)

Our little car began to sputter on the last leg of what was turning into a four-hour trip, albeit through some lovely country, towering green and rocky walls, a lot like our trips to Galena. We barely rolled into Waukon just in time for a luncheon of the filmmakers hosted by fest chair Dr. Katie O’Regan at the pleasantly unpretentious Uptown Grill.

The luncheon was a blast, and Barb charmed everybody with her funny tales of woe as production manager on our modest movies. The food was great in a funky joint that included a bar with a Western saloon in its soul, an unpretentious dining room and a party room, where the filmmakers got together.

When the luncheon was over, Barb and I headed to the motel, a reservation having been made for us. The car sputtered badly and we managed to get off the street and into the parking lot of the Pladsen Chevrolet car dealership before our vehicle died a coughing death. But we were lucky in our bad luck…we had come to a stop about ten yards from the Chevrolet service department. We had a possible repair in sight.

Also in sight was the dealership’s next-door neighbor — our motel! See what I mean about lucky? We abandoned our buggy and schlepped our suitcases over to Boarders, which proved to be a very nice motel with a North-woodsy theme. Little did we know this would be our new home for several days….

As for the film festival, on Saturday evening we caught two features and several shorts, plus had our screening of Death By Fruitcake. The final film of the day, The Empty Church, a feature, was shown – after a terrific picnic-style dinner of barbecue brisket, sweet corn and baby potatoes – at the intimate theater behind Katie O’Regan’s home. A double-wide metal shed had been transformed into an intimate theater, with stage and screen and three rows of seating. Delightful.

Sunday morning the festival wrapped up auspiciously for us with our Best Feature win, and a “cold” table read by three terrific Chicago actors and Katie herself of about thirty pages of my Dying in the Post-war World screenplay. I mentioned this last week, and this cast knocked it out of the park.

When the car dealership opened on Monday, we were treated well – friendly and sympathetically. They would get right to fixing our car. Sweet! It was nerve-racking, wondering what the cost would be, both in time and dollars. More than once we wandered the dealership lot looking at cars that actually worked, wondering if it was time to buy a new one and was that even practical this far from home?

As our third day at Boarders began, we were relieved to be close enough to the downtown (about two blocks of it, modest but charming and fairly complete) to take our meals at a variety of restaurants, none of whose prices were of the San Diego pocket-picking variety: a breakfast joint, a Chinese restaurant, a Mexican place, a steakhouse. A phone call late Monday from the nice dealership guy told us a part had to be ordered and with luck would arrive by noon tomorrow.

It did, and – taking on the drive back a longer route but incredibly scenic – we were home by Tuesday evening. Once again, Muscatine looked very good to us. Barb affirmed that she was never leaving the house again, but this proved to be more of a threat and less than a promise.

Thus ended two weeks in our life that, reflecting, seem like two months. Oddly, we kind of enjoyed all of it – except the San Diego prices.

* * *

The film version of Road to Perdition continues to gain latterday attention.

And here.

Check out this review from In Love With Books:

Two Volumes, One Relentless Journey
Before Road to Perdition was an Oscar-winning film, it existed as a graphic novel noir masterpiece — a blend of sharp storytelling and unforgettable illustration that redefined the crime genre on the page.

Vol. 1 — Road to Perdition
Written by Max Allan Collins and illustrated by Richard Piers Rayner, this is where the journey begins. In Depression-era America, Michael O’Sullivan is both a loving father and a feared mob enforcer. When betrayal shatters his world, he and his son hit the road — a path of vengeance, loyalty, and love, drawn with Rayner’s painstaking, cinematic detail.

Vol. 2 — Road to Perdition: On the Road
The saga continues with Collins’ razor-sharp prose, now paired with the dynamic artistry of José Luis García-López and Josef Rubinstein. Their bold lines and dramatic shadows give new energy to O’Sullivan’s odyssey, as father and son navigate drifters, criminals, and unexpected allies — each step pulling them closer to their destiny.

Why these books are unforgettable:

• Noir storytelling steeped in history and moral complexity.
• Vol. 1’s haunting realism by Richard Piers Rayner.
•Vol. 2’s cinematic action by José Luis García-López & Josef Rubinstein.
•A father-son tale that’s as tender as it is brutal.

Some roads are drawn in ink…others in blood. This one is both.

* * *

Read Leonard Maltin on the new Blu-ray of the forgotten first Wyatt Earp western, Law and Order, which features a commentary by my pal Heath Holland and me.

M.A.C.

Death By Fruitcake Wins Best Feature

Tuesday, August 5th, 2025

I am delighted to say our film Death By Fruitcake won Best Feature Film at the Star City Film Festival at Waukon, Iowa. The film was screened July 31 through August 2 with other entries at the Waukon High School and some entries were shown, and the awards presented (on August 3), at the Three Dolphins Theater, an intime venue on Dr. Regan’s property in Waukon, a lovely small town in a scenic setting that reminded us of Galena, Illinois, one of our favorite places (and setting of my novels Girl Most Likely and Girl Can’t Help It— coincidentally I signed a copy of the latter for one of the attendees).

The filmmakers present were a friendly and supportive bunch, but a smallish (twenty or so?) of the 44 entries, some of which represented a world-wide range of filmmaker ranging from Thailand to Iraq and Ukraine.

A highlight for me was a reading on Sunday before the awards of a section of Dying in the Postwar World by three talented actors from Chicago who had films in the festival. It was a cold table read and they did an incredible job.

Next week I’ll finally get around to a more lengthy report of our experiences at the San Diego Comic-Con.


Dr. Katie Regan, director of the Star City Film Festival, (left) with Barbara Allan

(l to r) Dr. Katie O’Regan, screen directions; Paul Kendall (Heller); Kelly Combs (Peg Heller and other female characters), Alan Blake (Sam Flood and other male characters).

Dr. Katie O’Regan and M.A.C.

M.A.C.

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San Diego Comic-Con 2025 Teaser

Tuesday, July 29th, 2025

Leave Them in Suspense panel with moderator Betty Ramirez, Arvind Ethan David, Delilah S. Dawson, Adam Cesare, Ted Van Alst Jr., M.A.C.

Spotlight on Max Allan Collins panel with Robert Meyer Burnett, M.A.C.

Max Allan Collins: A Titan at Hard Case Crime: From Ms. Tree to Nolan to Heller to Spade & Hammer panel with Andrew Sumner, M.A.C.

More Comic-Con photos and wrap-up to come next week!

Seduced at San Diego

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2025

As we somewhat frantically prepare for what is almost certainly our last San Diego Comic-Con (and possibly our last travel by air anywhere), I am reminded of all the wonderful times Barb and I had at the con over the years.

Barb will talk about the great stores at the nearby mall, gone now, and I will rhapsodize about the wonderful food we’d encounter. Oh, yes, and the people.

In addition to attending and appearing on panels with legendary comics creators (from Jack Kirby to Trina Robbins), my San Diego memories don’t come much better than the Seduction of the Innocent years, rock group/band that Bill Mumy and I put together in the late ‘80s.

This is a reminiscence I wrote back in 2017 that appeared here:

I met Miguel Ferrer in 1987 at the San Diego Comic Con. I approached his friend Bill Mumy as a fan – not so much of Lost in Space as of his band, Barnes & Barnes, of “Fish Heads” infamy. Knowing he was guest of the con, I had brought copies of several CDs for Bill’s autograph, and – in line for something and being lucky enough to be right ahead of Bill and Miguel – I got the CD inserts signed. We chatted. Turned out Bill and Miguel were hardcore comics fans, in particular of the Golden Age, and collected the heavy-duty, expensive stuff – early Batman, Superman and Captain America, among many others. They had hung out with Jack Kirby, Bob Kane and Stan Lee.

I was enough of a comics celebrity, as writer of Dick Tracy and Ms. Tree, to gain immediate acceptance, and we went together to a dance in the ballroom of the Hotel Cortez (later Miguel did memorable location work for Traffic at this fleabag). The band was nothing special. In talking about Barnes & Barnes with Bill, I’d mentioned that I was a longtime rock musician myself, and somebody – probably me – said, “We could go up there right now and do better, cold.” (I’d gathered that Miguel was a drummer.) We’d been standing with the enormously tall and talented (and tall) Steve Leialoha, who said, “Well, I play bass.”

I said, “Guitar, keyboards, drums, bass.”

Bill said immediately that he would talk to con organizer Jackie Estrada about having us play next year. But of course we needed a name.

Miguel, like any good drummer, did not miss a beat. He said, “Seduction of the Innocent.”

That very night Bill pitched us and got a commitment for the 1988 San Diego Comic Con. During the year that followed, Bill and I swapped song lists. We used my band Crusin’s song list as a jumping off point, picking the things that seemed to make sense, and Bill added some hipper tunes. So we knew what to work on before we gathered for our first practice.

A few days before the con, we assembled in Bill’s living room in his very cool Laurel Canyon house, and played through his stereo speakers, which were very powerful. And of course we fried them. In the future we would be either in a rehearsal hall or some other room the con provided, and amps would be rented to our specs.

I’m not sure whether we played “King Jack” that first year (Bill’s tribute to Jack Kirby) but we certainly did it by our second performance. And there was a second performance, because we killed at the first. The dance floor was packed, many of the dancers in costume decades before the term “cosplay” was coined. “Pussy Whipped,” another Bill original, was delivered in Miguel’s distinctive growl and was a big favorite. The ‘60s covers we did included “Mr. Soul,” “Cinnamon Girl,” “You Can’t Do That” and “We Gotta Get Outa This Place.” Also, “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” – Miguel again, assuming a singular poignance now.

At our first meeting, I didn’t really know who Miguel was. He’d done some TV and had a small role in Star Trek 3: The Search for Spock, and he’d filmed his breakout role in Robocop, but it hadn’t been released yet. During the year leading up to Seduction’s debut, Miguel got very hot and stayed that way through the ‘80s and ‘90s (and beyond). But he was always the most lovable, loving guy to his fellow band members. No attitude. Just great big smiles and wry humor.

We played half a dozen times at San Diego Con, with Chris Christensen – whose small label, Beat Brothers, issued our original material CD, The Golden Age – joining us around the third appearance. Chris was another hardcore comics fan and a versatile “casual” musician, meaning he played all kinds of music with all sorts of bands. When Miguel was drumming, he’d play rhythm guitar for Bill’s lead; when Miguel was singing, he’d play drums.

My friendship with Miguel doesn’t exist in a linear way in my mind. I remember how much we connected – he was the first guy to call me “brother,” and he meant it. I heard some California expressions from him before they got into the national vernacular: “He’s toast,” and “Sweeeeet.” He was a mystery reader and both he and Bill became Nate Heller fans in a major way (Bill wrote a song called “True Detective” for the Golden Age CD). Chris was, too, and probably Steve…but Steve always looked like he loved everybody and everything.

Once Miguel was in Chicago for a shoot on a Scott Bakula movie – In the Shadow of a Killer – around 1991. I was in the city promoting something or other, and Miguel and I spent several evenings together, with late-night conversations on everything from how good Diana Krall was to what it was like playing drums for Bing Crosby (which he had on Crosby’s final tour)(he also played drums on Keith Moon’s solo album). His famous father, Jose, was a big mystery fan too, and Mig got his dad on the phone to introduce me to him – that’s right me to him. Mr. Ferrer was impressed that I was friends with Mickey Spillane – can’t remember much else, just how wonderful it was having that warm, familiar voice in my ear.

Miguel had an afternoon off from the Bakula shoot and I had arranged a tour for us through the secret rooms beneath the Green Mill Café. The latter looked then as it did decades before (and probably does now) – a green-hued deco den of iniquity. As it happened, a comic book shop was next door and the eccentric owner, whose name I will not divulge (though he’s now deceased), had promised the tour. It had been set up weeks in advance.

But when we arrived, the comics shop owner – let’s call him Joe – was not to be seen. It took some talking, but the clerk revealed Joe was downstairs, where he’d been for over a week on a bender. Miguel and I exchanged glances, but gave each other what-the-hell shrugs. We found Joe slumped over a table with a glass and a whiskey bottle and a magnum revolver on it. There was a cot and a little refrigerator, but mostly bare cement.

Joe snapped awake, recognized me, remembered the promised tour, bolted to his feet and, issuing us orders, went quickly through a doorway into the basement’s nether reaches. Miguel and I exchanged glances and followed. After all, the gun had been left behind.

Through several chambers we went, including an ancient men’s restroom with urinals lined up St. Valentine’s Day Massacre style, while Joe turned on hanging bulbs along the way, leaving them swinging in memory of Psycho. He babbled about this being where Capone’s boys went during mob wars and did so while moving very quickly. We could hardly keep up. At one point, Miguel whispered, “Are we going to die down here, Al?” I said, “Maybe. But don’t worry – with the rats, they’ll never find us.”

Somehow the tour ended, and our lives did not. Anyway, we were back above ground.

One of Seduction’s most memorable early gigs was at the Santa Monica Pier in the building with the famous merry-go-round (another was when Wildman Fisher sang “Merry-Go-Round” with us at a San Diego con appearance, but that’s another story). We were joined on some tunes by Shaun Cassidy, who was a nice guy and strong performer.


Seduction of the Innocent, Santa Monica Pier

Prior to rehearsing in LA for the gig, Barb and I were invited by Miguel to stay at his mother’s house. His mother – Rosemary Clooney – would not be home; she, too, was gigging. We had the big house in Beverly Hills to ourselves, and we gingerly peeked into an expansive living room with a picture of Bing on the piano and the ghosts of Sinatra and how many others lingering among expensive furnishings that dated back decades. There was admittedly a Norma Desmond feel to the place. We’d been asked to answer the phone, and Barb did – taking a message from Rosie’s friend Linda Ronstadt.

Before our stay ended, Rosemary came home and, with Miguel at her arm, gave us a tour, including the living room. Oh, yes, all those famous people had been here many times, sometimes singing around the piano. She was as sweet and down-to-earth as my own mom, giving us copies of her latest records. Later, she was at the stove making marinara sauce, and my Lord it smelled good. But Miguel and Barb and I were on our way to a comic-shop gig.

In late night hotel-room conversations, the topic of working together often came up. We each said to the other, “If at the end of our days, we haven’t done a film or movie together, we should kick ourselves.”

Miguel and I talked seriously about having him play Heller in a movie – my novella, Dying in the Post-war World, was written for him in lieu of a screen treatment. Miggie was friends with a screenwriter who’d had a big success and wanted to move into directing, and – on a trip to LA specifically for this purpose – I took an afternoon meeting with him in Miguel’s little Studio City bungalow. But after we’d talked for an hour or so about Heller, the screenwriter said suddenly, “You know what we should make? A western.”

Miguel and I traded glances – his seemed to speak volumes about the disappointments and absurdities that he dealt with day-to-day in that town.

Back to Iowa.

(NOTE FROM M.A.C.: I finally wrote the screenplay version of Dying in the Post-war World this year, and Rob Burnett, Phil Dingeldein and I are seriously discussing getting it before the cameras next year.)

Which is where Miguel almost appeared in Mommy as Lt. March. He accepted the role on the proviso that if a big-paying gig came along, he could bow out with just two weeks notice. I was fine with that, and he allowed me to use his name and picture in our pre-production publicity, and gave us a letter of intent for fund-raising. A major film came along, and Miguel had to bow out, but he paved the way for Mark Hamill to take the role. Mark was another hardcore comics guy and very close to Bill and Miguel, and I’d spent some time with him at a couple of comic cons – a smart, funny man. (As it happened, Mark dropped out a week from the start of the shoot because of a conflict with voiceover work. We were able to secure Jason Miller for the role.)

At the risk of further name-dropping, I have to mention Miguel’s good friend, Brandon Lee. Brandon loved being around Seduction of the Innocent, and he played roadie for us at several gigs, and partied with us afterward. He seemed to take to me and we got along great. Miguel turned him onto the Quarry novels and Brandon loved them – called me on the phone to rave, once.

I asked Miguel, “Why has Brandon taken to me so? There are those who can resist my charms.”

Miguel grunted a laugh and said, “Simple, Al. It’s ‘cause you never ask him about his father.”

Only later did I realize that with Miguel any interaction or talk about his famous parents had come from his end, not mine.

Seduction shot a video of “The Truth Hurts” for the Golden Age CD release, and Brandon was in it. Not sure that still exists – it was good.

(NOTE FROM M.A.C. – it does exist and you can find the YouTube window for it here.)

Just days before we were scheduled to play at WonderCon, Brandon died tragically on the set of The Crow. Bill and Miguel had to cancel because they were to be pallbearers. Steve, Chris and I appeared with Crusin’ guitarist, Paul Thomas, as “Reduction of the Innocent.”

I had a small falling-out with Miguel when we hadn’t gigged for a while. He and Bill had a more serious, real band going – the Jenerators – and in an interview, Miggie jokingly dismissed Seduction, and said something like, “Max Allan Collins is lucky he’s a great mystery writer, ‘cause he couldn’t make a living as a musician.” I didn’t like that – I had in fact made a living as a musician for a while – and I called him on the phone about it. He heard me out and we had a typically warm, laughter-filled conversation.

But I learned through the Seduction grapevine that I was “in the cornfield,” where banished friends of Bill and Miguel went (a reference to Bill’s famous Twilight Zone episode, “It’s a Good Life”). The two friends would refer to those who’d got on their bad side by saying they were in the cornfield. I understood what had happened. Miguel was very non-confrontational, while I was and am somebody who has to deal with things right now or they’ll eat me alive. Also, Miguel was a star, and while he never played that card, I had stepped over a line.

When we got offered another San Diego con gig, I was afraid I’d jinxed it. Bill didn’t want to play without Miguel, even though we had done so once when Miguel again got a last-minute movie role. But Miguel said he was in. And when we rehearsed for the gig, it was clear all was forgiven. After the first rehearsal, I apologized, embarrassedly, and Miguel said “Forget it, brother,” with a grin and a shrug.

I had a habit, stepping down off the stage after a night that felt particularly good with the band, of quoting my late friend Paul Thomas: “Rock ‘n’ roll happened.” Bill and Miggie always kind of laughed at that, good-naturedly. But I to this day say it after a good Crusin’ gig.

(NOTE FROM M.A.C.: No more. I have retired from gigging.)

Seduction blew the roof off the dump at the San Diego con appearance. And as we came down off the stage, Miguel came over and put his arm around me and said, “Al! Rock ‘n’ roll did happen.” And he grinned that wonderful grin. It was a kind of apology, but it was much more than that. It was love, brother.

Sweeeet.

* * *

Things sometimes come full circle. Actually, often they do. A few years ago Seduction of the Innocent, minus a busy Miguel, was invited back to the San Diego comic-con. We did not perform, but did a panel and presented at the Eisner Awards. I got to interview Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo and composer of numerous film scores.

Contributing to Miguel’s absence was Bill and Miggie have had a falling-out over a comic-book deal. It was childish but, after all, we are all children in the world of fandom. Bill and I did a signing together and I told him I thought he should reach out to Miguel and take the blame for their tiff, even though it was more Miguel’s fault than his.

Bill did reconcile with Miguel, well before Miggie’s passing; they were again close buddies. I like to think my advice to Bill had something to do with helping patch up one of the greatest friendships I’ve ever witnessed.

I said things come full circle. Miguel never got to play Nate Heller, but Bill Mumy is one of the cast members of the long-form audio drama, True Noir: The Assassination of Anton Cermak, which I adapted from my novel True Detective, faithfully, and Robert Meyer Burnett directed, beautifully.

(Is it crass of me to mention you can buy it at truenoir.co? Okay, then, I won’t.)

* * *

Speaking of Robert Meyer Burnett, here again is a list of appearances San Diego Comic-Con appearances (the Friday one is Rob interviewing me):

Thursday, July 24:
11am panel “Leave Them in Suspense” 23ABC (Mysterious Galaxy)
12:30pm signing AA09

Friday, July 25:
4pm “Spotlight on MAC” 28DE (Robert Meyer Burnett)
5:30pm signing AA23

Saturday, July 26:
10am signing booth 2001 (new Johnny Dynamite book – in color for the first time!)

Sunday, July 27:
11:00 panel (Titan with Andrew Sumner) 32AB

If you attend the con, please stop by at least one of these events and/or signings and say hello.

M.A.C.