Mike Faricy's new Dev Haskell novel is now available on amazon.com.
Credit Matthew Ryan Williams for NPR Dr. Jim Olson meets with Carver Faull at Seattle Children's Hospital in August. Carver, now 12, had surgery to remove a brain tumor in 2012.
What I almost won...
This used to be our view.
This is our view now.
Anne K-J at senior prom with date Mack. Graduation tonight!
Toni McGee Causey
Instruments of torture?
Carrie York, DDS
NPS and federal agents discovered and eradicated six illegal marijuana fields in North Cascades National Park Complex in 2008, a scene you won't see anymore now that pot's legal in Washington.
Credit: David Snyder/National Park Service
GREG GILBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Will books like this help indie authors make money?
Photo Credit: Manoj Vasanth, Flickr
The Old Library, Muntmuseum of Utrecht, The Netherlands
ONI headquarters in Suitland, Md.
Slightly smaller than a standard HK45, the HK45C has all the same features.
An SH-60B Seahawk helicopter and SH-60F Seahawk prepare to land on the flight deck of USS Kitty Hawk.
April 9, 2014
Today I have the pleasure of featuring Mike Faricy as my guest blogger. Mike is the author of the Dev Haskell P.I. series, and Mike gives us a taste of it in the following excerpt.
Ten minutes later we were pulling into my driveway. I gently shook Heidi awake. “Heidi, come on. There’s a nice warm bed upstairs we can both climb into. Wake up, honey.”
“Oh, God, bed sounds wonderful,” she said, but she said it in a way that made me think we were suddenly on opposite wave lengths.
She was sound asleep when I came out of the bathroom. I heard that deep Prosecco induced breathing, remembered the elbow she gave me the last time I’d attempted to wake her and knew there was no point in trying. I’d have to wait until morning.
“Dev, Dev, wake up. Come on, wake up.”
It was music to my ears as she gently shook me awake, no doubt unable to control her passion and wait any longer. My patience was finally paying off and this was going to be worth it. I rolled over and focused on Heidi sitting on the edge of my bed. She appeared to have showered and was completely dressed. In fact, she’d already pulled on her winter coat.
“What time is it? What the…”
“Come on, get dressed, you have to drive me back to Bunnies so I can get my car. I’ve got a client coming in at nine this morning and I have to go home and change.”
“Could we just take a few minutes here and…”
“No, come on, I mean it. Besides, I’ve already showered. I gotta get going,” she said and stood up.
I lay in bed for half a second, thinking ‘This can’t be happening. I don’t believe it."
“Dev, come on, I told you I’m not kidding, get going,” she said. She checked herself briefly in the mirror before she walked out of my bedroom. She called again as she headed downstairs. “Dev.”
Heidi was the first one to finally speak as we drove to her car. “Oh, God, you big baby, will you please quit pouting. I’ll make it up to you,” she said. We were just a minute or two away from the parking lot at Bunnies. Heidi was brushing on makeup using the mirror hanging from the back of my passenger seat visor.
“Sure, not a problem. I mean, I interrupted my night. I stopped working. I drove down to Bunnies. I gave all your girlfriends a ride home. My ears are still hurting from the noise level in the car.” I shot her a glance.
“Maybe if the heat had come on we wouldn’t have had to talk so loud. God, everyone was frozen half to death. We had to talk just to stay warm.”
“Hey, you called me. Like I said, I was working.”
“Sure you were,” she said and just let that hang there for a couple of blocks.
You can get Mike's new book here: http://www.amazon.com/Ting---Ling-Dev-Haskell-Investigator-ebook/dp/B00J3697KQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1395703392&sr=1-1&keywords=Ting+a+ling+Mike+Faricy
"The Dirty Lowdown" called Mike Faricy America's hottest new mystery writer. Robert Carraher and the Irish Gazette referred to him as Minnesota's Master of the Bizarre. He has been nominated for a Minnesota book award. All his books are filled with the sort of oddballs we're all curious about, but wisely prefer to keep at a distance. His characters serve not so much as an example as they do a warning to us all. None of them will be saving the world from terrorism, international banking conspiracies or government coups. Rather, his characters inhabit a world just below the surface of polite society. The circumstances they find themselves in are usually due to their own bad decisions, but then bad decisions make for interesting stories.
The books in Mike's Dev Haskell series, in order, are; Russian Roulette, Mr. Swirlee, Bite Me, Bombshell, Tutti Frutti and Last Shot.
Mike is originally from St. Paul, Minnesota, where he spends part of his time as well as in Dublin, Ireland. You can follow Mike on Twitter @mikefaricybooks or connect with him on his Facebook page at facebook.com/MikeFaricyBooks or email him at firstname.lastname@example.org
March 13, 2014
People often ask me where I get ideas for my thriller novels. And as often as I’m asked, I’m still surprised by it. I think it’s the wrong question. A better question is “What inspires me?”
Ideas are easy to come by, a dime a dozen. Open the newspaper and you’ll be assaulted with plot ideas. Stories about NSA eavesdropping, big business scams and $13 billion settlements, George Zimmerman’s latest brush with the law, even Obamacare are ripe and rife with kernels that can germinate and grow in the soil of a fertile imagination.
The origin of the plot for my first published mystery came from a story my father told me about how an investor cornered the market on shares of a company’s stock back in the ‘50s. The premise of my second book, in which a college student hangs himself in the woods off campus, evolved from a similar incident at my alma mater when I was a student. Blake Sanders, the protagonist of my current thriller series, grew out of a remark the local bookstore owner made about his newspaper carrier. And the concept for Night Tide, my latest novel, resulted from reading an article about a man freed from jail after serving 20 years for a crime he didn’t commit.
Ideas are everywhere. You can’t turn around without practically tripping over them. I sometimes think the most difficult aspect of being a writer is coming up with a) ideas no one’s thought of, or a new way of presenting them, and b) plots that are more thrilling than what’s in the news every day. Truth really is stranger than fiction. It’s our job as writers to take the same old same-old and breathe new life into it. The task—facing all those blank pages waiting to be filled with exciting plots and characters and settings that readers want to learn about—can be daunting.
Which is why I think the question of where inspiration comes from is more interesting. I’m inspired by a variety of sources in many different areas of my life. I play tennis five mornings a week with two different informal men’s groups. I also sub for another group occasionally on Sundays, and I’ve been on a USTA men’s doubles team this fall. On weekdays, I play at 6:45 a.m. every day, and there are days when that hour of the morning seems to come all too early.
My inspiration for showing up every day comes from a few places. Three of the men that play in the MWF group are within spitting distance of their 90th birthdays. If they can get out on the courts without complaint, certainly I can. And in fact, they’d be the first to say that upright and breathing beats the alternative, for which I’m grateful every day. The TTh men are a little younger—most are in their 60s and 70s—and many are better players than I am. They inspire me to play up to their level. And, of course, watching the pros play on Tennis Channel inspires me to take lessons so I can improve even more.
The volunteers at the Homeless Cooking Project, sponsored by St. Clouds restaurant in Seattle the third Wednesday of every month, inspire me to give back to the community more often. I love working in the restaurant—I spent several years during and after college working in the business—and feel even better knowing that I’m helping make really nice, restaurant quality meals for about 500 people.
Writing, Tom Clancy once said, is like digging dirt. There’s little remuneration for many authors, and the process can be long and thankless. So why do we do it? What inspires us to dream up stories and put them down on paper or in digital files, hoping readers will find them? Most of the authors I’ve talked to say they feel compelled to write. They can’t walk away from its siren call.
When it comes to writing, two things inspire me most: reading authors whose work I admire, and those whose work is inferior but for whatever reason is widely read. The former spur me to practice and hone my craft, to try to become a better writer with each book. The latter motivate me to prove not only that I am a better writer, but also that there’s an audience out there for good writing as well as good stories.
My greatest inspiration? The love of my life—my wife Valarie. She inspires me to be a better person each and every day.
What inspires you? Where do you turn for inspiration?
September 24, 2013
Today, I got some of the best news I’ve ever received. I didn’t win the lottery. No, it wasn’t a film deal with a major Hollywood studio, though that would have been pretty spectacular. And no, it wasn’t an amazing sales report for my latest thriller, Night Tide, though that would have been welcome, too. This bit of news actually was far better.
Twelve years ago, when I was 49, I ran three miles daily. Well, it was more like a shuffle since they were nine-minute miles. But I ran some hills, so for me it was a good workout. One day while out running, however, I experienced pain on the right side of my chest. When I stopped running, the pain dissipated.
I’ve always been in good health, have never had a problem maintaining my weight, have always eaten a healthy diet, so the pain perplexed me. Since I felt fine otherwise, I did nothing for two weeks. But the pain persisted, only when I ran, of course, so I finally called my doctor. After hearing my symptoms, the first thing she did was x-ray my chest to rule out a pulmonary embolism. When that turned up negative, she ordered a stress test. That turned out normal.
Puzzled, she scheduled a stress-echo test at the cardiology department of the hospital she’s affiliated with. As you probably know, a stress test simply involves walking on a treadmill to increase your heart rate while they monitor pulse, blood pressure and EKG readings of the heart itself. The treadmill increases in speed and incline every three minutes. The “echo” part of the test is ultrasound pictures of your heart at rest and again after you’ve cried “Uncle” on the treadmill when your heart is racing.
I met with a cardiologist after the test who said when I came in he was tempted to send me home without conducting the test. My weight was fine; my cholesterol levels were good. I was obviously fit and active. He went on to give me the results of my test. “The good news,” he said, “is that you’re in the physical condition of an average 16 year-old. The bad news is that there’s definitely something wrong with the way you’re heart is working.”
He scheduled me for an angiogram, and not surprisingly given the stress-echo results, found a coronary artery that was 80 percent blocked. He put in a stent, prescribed a cholesterol-lowering statin (despite my excellent cholesterol numbers), and sent me on my way.
The miracle of modern medicine. In 1975, My uncle died of a heart attack at the age of 48, suggesting my coronary artery disease is genetic. But advances in medicine saved me from a similar fate. Except that all the preventive steps I took to ward off the disease and a recurrence of a blocked artery didn’t work. In the summer of 2012, I went back into the hospital for angioplasty, this time getting two stents.
This time I scheduled follow-up after the surgery with a cardiologist in the clinic where my GP works. She told me that things had changed in the eleven years between my angioplasties, that cardiologists know a lot more about the disease now. So she ordered a lipids panel not only to see where my cholesterol levels were but where levels of specific triglycerides were. And she found a possible culprit for why my disease continued to advance despite everything I’d done. Lipoprotein(a). Lp(a) is one of those triglycerides that a study published in the New England Journal of Medicine says could be a major contributor to heart disease in some patients. Mine was high. Other studies have shown that massive doses of niacin, a B vitamin, can help bring it down in some patients. She asked if I was game to try it. Hell, yes!
I worked up to a dose of 1,000 mg of niacin, and after six months had my blood lipids tested again. Lp(a) levels, which had been over 200, went down a disappointing 9 points. My cardiologist told me if I could tolerate a higher dose and was willing to try I might reduce the levels further, and at least the niacin was helping some.
I gradually increased the dosage to 1,750 mg, and had another lipids panel run. Today I followed up with my cardiologist. My Lp(a) level is half of what it was six months ago; my HDL (good cholesterol) is up and LDL (bad cholesterol) is down. In other words, I dramatically cut the risk of the disease advancing further. I may never need another stent or by-pass surgery.
Since my first stent was put in, I don’t think I’ve taken a single day for granted. I’m not stopping now. In fact, if I can tolerate it, I’m increasing my dosage of niacin to 2,000 mg a day—with my doctor’s blessing, of course—to see if I can get that Lp(a) level down just a little more.
Today was a beautiful day.
How do you celebrate life? What good news have you gotten lately?
September 13, 2013
I love life’s little “ah-ha!” moments. Those times when you’re reminded to look outside yourself and see the bigger picture. To remember why we’re here and what life’s really about. On my way into Seattle early this morning to play tennis (there’s an “ah-ah!” moment right there—several of these guys are pushing 90 and are still out on the courts smacking a tennis ball, which is major inspiration to me), I heard a feature on the radio about a local doctor here in Seattle. (more…)
September 5, 2013
A couple of weeks ago a marvelous thing happened to me. I was called out by a complete stranger for something I wrote on my blog. He didn’t catch me misrepresenting falsehoods as truth or making a mistake in research. He accused me of an error in judgment, and he was absolutely right. (more…)
September 4, 2013
The smell of gas hung on the porch of the ramshackle house like a bookie’s leg-breaker, heavy and oppressive, full of menace. I backed away cautiously, nose full of the rotten-egg odorant in the gas. Finding a spot where polluted air left off and fresh air began was tough. (more…)
August 28, 2013
By now you’ve seen the rave reviews and blog posts about “On The Lam,” the three-day Thomas & Mercer authors event held in Seattle last weekend. One of the terrific aspects of the confab was the opportunity to talk shop with so many great writers in a variety of relaxed social situations as well as more formal workshop panel Q&A sessions. (more…)
August 25, 2013
This past weekend I took part in an extraordinary event. Amazon Publishing’s Thomas & Mercer imprint brought 62 of its authors into Seattle for a three-day whirlwind schedule of education and socializing called "On The Lam." (more…)
August 10, 2013
Recently, a first-time author e-mailed me and asked me if I would blurb his new novel. I told him that since I don’t have a large fan base, a blurb from me likely wouldn’t help his sales much. He replied that it wasn’t important; he simply wanted blurbs from authors he admires. Since I find myself in the same position once a year or so, I agreed, but set some ground rules. (more…)
August 1, 2013
Once again stuck for something really clever and poignant to blog about this week, and since it’s so much easier to complain than constructively criticize or laud something positive, I’ll start off with a couple of rants.
Up first is a transportation project here in Washington State. (more…)