Hearing from Thriller Writer David Baldacci, Part 1

With Wanda and David Baldacci

The last big gathering I attended before the world closed down was a talk by author David Baldacci sponsored by Literacy Volunteers of South Sarasota County. At my side was family friend Wanda McKenzie, who has read every single Baldacci book and considers herself his number one fan. Her visit -- capped off by the Baldacci talk -- had been planned for months, and I am so glad the evening came off.  I cannot remember when I've laughed so much.

Baldacci was happy to learn that virtually no one in the audience had heard him speak before. "Oh, good," he said.  "I can recycle my material." And what material it was.

Baldacci is a trial lawyer turned writer. He said it was hard to explain to his kids -- then three and five -- why daddy was suddenly sitting around at home in his sweatpants all day. (In fact, his kids weren't the only ones confused about why he was home so much. The crew that cleaned their house was so concerned they took up a collection for him!)

It all began to become clear to the kids -- sort of -- once he took them to a book signing. At one event the bookstore owner asked his daughter if she knew why everyone was asking her dad to sign their books. She looked at the woman with a "duh" look on her face and declared, "It's obvious. My dad has the nicest handwriting." His son showed great entrepreneurship on another bookstore outing as he loudly and proudly announced to anyone that "My daddy will sign any book you've got for $2.00."

Baldacci's books have sometimes elicited strong responses from his readers. He shared a story of a voicemail his editor forwarded to him with the caveat of "Don't worry. The FBI is all over it."  The letter related to his book "The Last Mile," the second in his Amos Decker series. Baldacci explained that what got the reader riled up was his depiction of a racist politician in the Deep South in the 1950s.

First, the reader said, "I'm going to blow up your publisher's building." Then, he continued, "I'm going to come to Virginia and burn your house down." And this is where it got weird.  The message went silent for a period of time.  The reader came back on and explained, "Sorry, I'm in a bad cell area."  More threats ensued.  Eventually, he hung up.  But he did call back again, ending his call with the standard, "Have a good day."

The FBI was able to locate this mastermind immediately. He was an old guy more or less sitting in a rocker on his front porch.  "How did you find me?" he asked with amazement.  "Well, sir, you used your phone," they explained. "You can track that?" he exclaimed. Clearly, neither the publisher nor Baldacci and his family were in grave danger.  (If this story inspires you to learn more about "The Last Mile," click here for a video of Baldacci's appearance at the Chester County Book Company in Pennsylvania. In addition to filling you in on the book, it will give you a sense of how charming and smart he is.)

Baldacci has had his own brushes with the law. He enjoys doing research for his books, both to make sure he gets it right and to learn. His preference is to conduct his interviews in person. But sometimes that isn't possible, as happened with the questions he had for a forensic scientist in a Medical Examiner's Office when he was working on "Split Second." And so Baldacci settled into his seat on the Acela train across from two businessmen and made his call.

"This is how I want to murder the guy," he said in quiet voice so as not to disturb his neighbors. He went on to propose an intriguing way of poisoning the victim that, he informed us, the scientist agreed would be quite hard to detect. Baldacci continued with his conversation, only looking up from his note-taking after he hung up. One of his seatmates had spilled his coffee, leaving a huge brown stain from his neck to his crotch. The other guy was wildly waving his hands while saying, "Oh. My. God." over and over.

When the train pulled into the station, the Amtrak police detained Baldacci. (He kindly suggested to us that neither his seatmates nor the police read many books.)  It all worked out -- after a while.  Baldacci includes an acknowledgment in the book that reads, "Lastly, my apologies to any passengers on the Amtrak Acela train who overheard me discussing with various experts poisoning techniques for the storyline and were probably scared out of their wits by my seemingly diabolical intent."

In case you haven't gathered, Baldacci does not take himself too seriously. Nor does his wife. Case in point was an encounter the pair had with a reader while out to dinner. As they were enjoying their quiet night out, Baldacci couldn't help but notice a woman across the restaurant who was staring at him with laser eyes. Eventually, the woman came over to their table.

"Are you who I think you are?" she coyly asked. "Well, I guess I am who you think I am," he replied. The woman was thrilled and bellowed out to her husband across the restaurant, "I was right!!!!  It's John Grisham!"

Without missing a beat, Baldacci explained that she had the wrong author but the right genre.  "Oh," she said. "Are you David Baldacci?" He confirmed that indeed he was. Again, she yelled across the room to her husband. "You were right. It's the Italian." Baldacci's wife literally blew iced tea out of her nose.

Stay tuned for more Italian anecdotes from our evening with author David Baldacci in Part 2 of this blog.  Stay well.