Omnimystery News is delighted to welcome Maryglenn McCombs and Garcia as our guest bloggers. Garcia's debut mystery, Don't Sweat the Small Stuff (Oceanview Publishing, December 2010 Hardcover, 978-1-933515-79-3) is actually written by Don Bruns (but don't tell Garcia that!); it is the fourth book in a series featuring underemployed best friends James Lessor and Skip Moore.
Today, Maryglenn writes about how Garcia became a major character in Don Bruns's new book.
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Photo provided courtesy of
Maryglenn McCombs (with Garcia)
One of my favorite quotes is “Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read” by Groucho Marx, a quote I love not just because it’s funny, but because it combines two of my favorite things: books and dogs.
I’ve been accused of being dog-obsessed, which I don’t deny. I just love dogs—especially my dog, Garcia, my beloved 10½-year-old, blind, 125-pound Old English Sheepdog. I may be biased, but I think Garcia is an incredibly special dog. So I took upon myself to ask (or rather beg) one of my favorite mystery writers, Don Bruns (DonBrunsBooks.com) to include Garcia in one of his books. And he did.
Much to Don’s surprise, Garcia “took over” the plot and wound up becoming a major character in Don’s newest novel, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (Oceanview Publishing) which came out yesterday.
Now this has been in the works for well over a year, but I admit getting a little choked up when I read the first draft of Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. Don, the dog-less author that he is, had somehow managed to capture Garcia and all his goofy, clownish, sheepdog ways. (Aside to Don: nice work. And you need a dog.)
To say I am thrilled is hardly adequate. I did what I think any self-respecting, dog-loving book publicist would do and proudly had a picture of Garcia, in all his shaggy glory, photoshopped into Don’s author photo.
But it wasn’t until the release date got closer that I realized just how appropriate it was that Garcia earned himself a spot in Don’s novels. Why? Well, Don’s "Stuff" books feature two protagonists, James Lessor and Skip Moore, stumbling, bumbling, and wildly hilarious amateur sleuths who have a knack for getting in way over their heads. James and Skip, goofballs that they are, are creatures of habit. Their adventures usually involve some sort of get-rich-quick scheme that goes madly and uproariously awry, catapulting them into situations that only a fiction writer could dream up.
But James and Skip are charming in spite of themselves, hilarious, utterly devoid of even an iota of self-awareness, and as one reviewer so aptly put it, “pure fun.”
(And for those of you who haven’t read the other books in the series, Stuff to Die For, Stuff Dreams are Made Of, and Stuff to Spy For, take heart: these are great stand-alones, but you’ll be hooked after reading one.)
What struck me is that James and Skip—and the reasons why they resonate with me so much—aren’t all that dissimilar from Garcia, and the many reasons I adore him. And here’s why:
They’re loyal: James and Skip are friends-to-the-end. While Skip often comes across as the more reasonable of the two, he’ll follow James down any path regardless of whatever imminent peril could be at the end of the road. They’re friends—and that’s what friends do.
In much the same fashion, Garcia is as loyal as they come. I don’t know if Garcia belongs to me, or vice versa, but when we’re together, he is right by my side. Every day, Garcia plops himself down next to my desk. He’s my employee of the month, every month.
They’re hilarious: The dialogue between James and Skip alone is the stuff of side-splitting laughs. They love beer, can’t get enough of quoting movies, do, and say, some ridiculously funny things and really are “pure fun.” I dare you to read one of the Stuff books without laughing out loud.
Garcia, at least to me, is pure fun, too. Like most Old English Sheepdogs I’ve known, Garcia is a bit of a clown. From his photo with Santa debacle (going after Santa’s beard in a fierce tug-of-war), to “posing” for our mail carrier, to his favorite sleeping position (all four paws straight up in the air) Garcia provides countless hours of sheer entertainment.
They’re blissfully unaware: James and Skip simply don’t understand why something that sounds too good to be true probably is. They are motivated by the same hope and blind faith that could lead one, say, to Las Vegas—or to buy a lottery ticket. (Guilty on both counts) James and Skip are woefully unaware of their limits or limitations, and ¬clearly think they’re invincible. James and Skip aren’t afraid to go out on a limb, literally and figuratively, all in the name of achieving that pinnacle of success that seems to elude them.
Garcia, at 125 pounds, has little self-awareness either. He has no idea just how big he is and often forgets that he’s blind. How would you like to have a 125-pound lap dog? How about a big, blind dog who isn’t afraid to charge forward when he hears—or smells—something he might need to investigate? Welcome to my world!
They’re resilient: James and Skip have had their fair share of near misses—all in the name of their unending quest to get rich quick, move out of their shabby apartment, and start living the good life. But does it stop them? No way. They charge ahead onto the next big thing, always filled with big dreams, big hopes, and an abundance of bright-eyed optimism. For James and Skip, the past is the past—and the future, at least in their estimation, is bright. Really bright. James and Skip may fall a little short of hitting the big-time, but it doesn’t stop them from trying, dreaming, getting back in the saddle, and having a damned good time in the process.
Similarly, Garcia is the picture of resilience. At eight years old, he went completely blind due to a condition called Immune Mediated Retinopathy. I was traumatized, afraid that blind Garcia wouldn’t be able to lead a full and active life. But blindness didn’t slow Garcia down for a second. He certainly has had his share of near-misses (and some not-so-near-misses) involving the steps and the furniture, but he keeps right on going. When he falls down, he gets back up. He’s fearless—sometimes to his detriment, but isn’t afraid to explore new places. Granted, Garcia needs a little more assistance than he did when he could see, but quickly learned words such as “careful,” “step,” “turn” and, when all else fails, “whoa!!!”
They’re loveable: What’s not to love about James and Skip? They’re hapless and hilarious; a little crude, but charming; infuriating (especially to the women in their lives) but endearing. Simply put, James and Skip are flawed, but you can’t help but love them anyway.
And again, obvious bias aside, what’s not to love about a huge, wiggly, shaggy, grey-and-white dog with no tail? Honestly!
They’re forever young: James and Skip, twentysomethings that they are, are certainly old enough to know better than to get into some of the scrapes they get themselves into, but probably just young enough not to care. James and Skip live their lives in a fantastically oblivious state. Readers have described them as the Hardy Boys grown up—but they’re hardly grown up. And I just know that James and Skip will never ever grow up. Ever.
Even though Garcia is now an older gentleman, he still has days when he acts like a puppy. My friend Robert, who has a beautiful, large dog named Ivan who is the same age as Garcia, tells me that in people years, our dogs would be well into their late 80s or early 90s. Sure—Garcia shows signs of aging (we’re doing acupuncture, laser therapy, and underwater treadmill therapy to treat his arthritis now) but he still has bursts of puppy energy, still loves a morning walk, gets excited when visitors come by, launches into an occasional “running jag,” and is the same enthusiastic, wonderful, and darling dog I brought home over ten years ago—he’s just a whole lot bigger.
Since the day I brought him home, Garcia has been a character. Now that Garcia is a character in every sense of the word, I have a new appreciation of why I love the books I love. For me, it’s all about the characters—and I like them flawed, and relatable, and ridiculous, and wonderful.
And James and Skip are all of the above, and then some. Even after the final page is turned, James and Skip are still with me—and are as real to me as the people I know and love.
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Maryglenn McCombs is an independent book publicist who lives in Nashville, Tennessee, with her husband Tim Warnock, and their Old English Sheepdog, Garcia. For more information, visit Maryglenn.com or email maryglenn@maryglenn.com.
Garcia is a 10½ year-old Old English Sheepdog. BookPage Magazine’s “The Book Case” blog called Garcia “Nashville’s Top Dog,” a title he relishes. To celebrate the release of his book, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, Garcia has taken to Twitter: twitter.com/AmazingGarcia. (Please note that Garcia, what with his lack of opposable thumbs, has to rely on some of his friends for the actual typing.) You can also find Amazing Garcia: English Sheepdog at Large on Facebook.
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About Don't Sweat the Small Stuff: It's official: stumbling, bumbling James Lessor and Skip Moore are licensed private investigators. Now, that's some scary stuff.
It could take time to get Moore or Less investigations off the ground, so James takes a job with a traveling carnival show. But this show has a dubious reputation, having had a string of accidents and at least one death in the past year.
When they're hired to investigate what's caused the carnival chaos, James and Skip set into motion a dizzying, roller coaster chain of events. After a terrifying trip on the Dragon Tail ride, a not-so-fun dust-up in Freddy's Fun House, and a host of threats, James and Skip realize they'll get anything but cooperation from this cantankerous cast of carnies. But when a carnival worker is murdered, James and Skip will have to act fast-because they might be next in line. For James and Skip, the only thing sweeter than the smell of corndogs and fried dough will be the sweet smell of success-but in this case, "success" means getting out alive.
This investigation is going completely off the rails.
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