Let's talk about baseball. Not much of a stretch as far as subjects go, given John Apparite's intense feelings for the Washington Senators (and the World Series just got over with, so it's fresh on my mind for that reason, too), but this is one of the aspects of the book that people always mention, so I thought I'd expound on it.

Why Apparite is a baseball fan is obvious--in the Fifties, there were three great American sports: Baseball, Boxing, and Horse Racing. So why is Apparite a Senators fan in particular? Simple--because the Senators are no more. The original Senators left Washington for Minnesota in 1961, and then again for Texas in the early seventies, so I liked the idea of Apparite loving this team that we--the readers--know is going to leave him, breaking his heart. It adds a sense of melancholy and foreboding to his deep affection for them, and I like that sort of depth in a character. In my opinion, it's too easy to make someone in a book love, say, the Yankees with their 26 or so championships, or the Cubbies, who haven't won since 1908, or the Red Sox, who just ridded themselves of the "Curse of the Bambino." No one in literature is likely to be a Senators fan, which is partly why John Apparite was.

Plus, the "Nats" were never very good for very long, yet they had some great players, including the legendary Walter Johnson, so I liked that, too. They were also located in D.C., allowing me to really connect Apparite with his team while learning and doing his duties, and then connect with the Director's past as well. I rather wanted Apparite to grow up in Iowa, truth be told, but this did not jive with his life-long love for the "Nats" so, instead, he came from the Cumberland, Maryland area (an area which I know since my mother's side of the family is from there). It simplified things: Apparite was raised in Maryland, the Director lives in D.C., Apparite lives/works in D.C., and the Senators are in D.C. A natural fit.

But the nice thing about using baseball is that it connects with people on an emotional level--it's Americas oldest, most beloved sport, filled with legendary players and records (I still remember the old ones better than the new: KO's--Walter Johnson, 3,508; hits--Ty Cobb, 4,191; homers--Babe Ruth, 714; RBI's--Hack Wilson, 190). Baseball is simply ingrained in the subconscious of our nation; it goes way, way, way back (as Phil Rizzuto, I believe, might have said), bonding generations to one another in this one common entity.

There's more literature about baseball than any other sport--and I mean literature, not just stories--with boxing, probably, a close second. It lends itself to retellings and embellishments; to timeless anecdotes; to great heroes (Walter Johnson, Babe Ruth) and villains (Hal Chase, Ty Cobb, the Black Sox) and various gradations of both (Shoeless Joe Jackson).

Expect more baseball in the second book (Apparite's Revenge); if the Director's feeling especially generous, maybe he'll even let Apparite go to a "Nats" game. And don't forget that Walter Johnson tobacco card of Apparite's either--there's more to it than meets the eye.

Next up: I think I'll talk about the life of real secret agents. Stop back in a week.

Let's talk about hats.

Alright, maybe 'talk' is the wrong term since this is essentially a one-way conversation at the moment, but would anyone read this if, instead, I said this: "Let me lecture you about hats."?

Doubt it. So 'talk' it is.

John Apparite's story takes place during a 'hat-time'--meaning a period when everyone, men and women, seemed to wear a hat. Take a look at a pre-1960 photograph (has to be outside, since people didn't wear hats indoors, natch) and what do you see?

Hats. Lots of hats. Old photos of athletic events like baseball games practically ooze hats from the grandstands.

Look around you now--no hats. NO HATS! (Some people blame JFK for this since he did not, apparently, wear hats often, but no one is really sure why people stopped wearing them).

Men today only wear baseball caps, too often worn sideways or backwards, as if protecting the back of your neck from the sun is more important than protecting your eyes and face from it. And many of them say 'John Deere' on them--not even baseball-related.

Where does this all come into John Apparite's story? you are now asking yourself.

Because I am wondering how important it is to mention the presence of hats in it. Are hats like shoes, taken for granted and rarely commented upon? Or should an author writing a period piece--like myself--go out of his way to mention hats as a nudge to the reader, in essence saying, "Hey, I'm mentioning hats to increase my period credibility!" (or period 'cred,' as the street-wise would say). In Under Cloak of Darkness, I mention old cars (De Soto Firedome), old ball-teams (the Senators), old political figures (Georgii Malenkov), old movie-stars (Jeanne Crain), old magazines (Life), old weapons (Soviet Tokarev pistol), etc. Why not mention the presence of men wearing hats?

Well, it's too late, because the manuscript was sent to the publisher (Five Star/Thomson Gale) ten weeks ago and, I'm sorry to say, I don't think there's more than a passing reference or two to hats. If I had a 'do-over,' I'd mention hats about, oh, thirty-six times.

I mean, can you have too much period credibility? Probably not.

And mark my words, in the next book (Apparite's Revenge) there are hats up the proverbial wazoo.

By the way, I do own a 'real' hat--a nifty little fedora out of my father's closet--though I wear it only as a Halloween Party accoutrement when someone deigns me worthy of a Halloween Party invite. Don't ask me when that last was or I might start to cry.

Still, I'm keeping it in good shape: if hats ever make a comeback, I want to be ready.

In the beginning, there was just a name.

About a year and a half ago, I was lying in my bed trying to go to sleep. It had been a long, tiring day; the kids had been randomly wild though entertaining into the night; my wife and I had relaxed (after they'd been forced into their beds) by watching a little TV; and now we were both attempting to lure that devilish, elusive wisp of a creature called "sleep" to come and take us away until morning.

Well, it took her first, leaving me awake and listening to her soft breathing as I attempted to join her in slumber when this name popped in my head: John Apparite.

John Apparite.

"Wow," I said to myself, my mind suddenly and fully alert. "What a damn great name for a spy."

I thought about the adventures I might put this man named "John Apparite" through (pronounced, by the way, as "Uh-PAIR-it"). Adventures during the Golden Age of Espionage, those paranoid days of the Cold War back in the Fifties. Adventures based on historically accurate principles and situations, filled with period references--as esoteric as I might make them--and espionage insights, and one thing above all: some level of humanity with which the reader might identify. This was my first impression of who John Apparite should be.

James Bond is a great spy; so is Jason Bourne. But, I wondered, does the reader really feel like they've gotten to know them after they've finished, say Goldfinger, or The Bourne Identity? Of course, Fleming and Ludlum are terrific, famed writers in the genre, but I wanted my spy to be different than theirs, or Le Carre's, or Deighton's. I wanted my spy to seem as human as possible, foibles and bad-habits and nerve-wracked emotions and all.

So that's the reason John Apparite is from the backwoods of Maryland. That's why the reader learns so much about him and his first twenty-five years on earth in the first chapter. That's why he has panic attacks, why he loves a doomed team like the Washington Senators, why he's left-handed, why he's only five-six and 141 pounds, why he can willingly kill an innocent man in cold blood in one chapter but later feels compelled to save a total stranger at the risk of his mission in another. I wanted the name "John Apparite" to represent a real person that maybe one of us might know; if not the whole of John Apparite, then maybe one of the parts that makes him up (for me, it's his fear of flying!).

As I say on the web-site, there's scores of spies like James Bond but there's only one John Apparite. I hope that by the end of Under Cloak of Darkness the reader feels he or she knows him as well as one of their neighbors--maybe even just as well as I do. And, of course, I hope they are looking forward to learning more about him.

Which is why I wrote Apparite's Revenge. And why I'm half-way through The Pursuit of John Apparite. And why I'm sorting out plot-lines in my head for book number four, for which I'm still trying on titles for size and fit, though I do know what the last line in the book will be.

For now, I'll be posting little tid-bits and clues about Mr. John Apparite, or the writing of the book, or Cold War espionage, or the publishing biz, or the occasional odd or end I'll let you know about myself.

Or maybe I'll just put down what's on my mind depending on what the world is throwing all of us on any given day. Feel free to contact me per my web-site (www.imkoontz.com) and I'll try and answer your questions or address any comments about the book, the blog, or myself.

And thank you, most of all, for reading: book, web-site, or blog. For now, expect the occasional post here (after all, Under Cloak of Darkness doesn't come out from Five Star/Thomson Gale until July, 2006!) when the mood strikes me, and I'll try and keep it interesting.

I'll see ya' around--

I. Michael Koontz