Q: It's been seven years since you wrote a book, and before we begin, may I say that I've missed your writing?
A: Ah, so you're the one.

Q: I'm serious. I saw a letter in Mystery Scene magazine, someone asking what had become of you.
A: Probably my bail bondsman.

Q: You're being flippant.
A: It's my job, ma'am.

Q: Let's talk about the new book. You hooked me on the first page of Solomon vs. Lord when we meet the main characters in adjacent jail cells. It's not the usual place to find opposing lawyers.
A: But it tells us a lot about our protagonists. They've been held in contempt for arguing in court. Victoria Lord is humiliated. Steve Solomon is cool with it. He tells her that a lawyer who's afraid of jail is like a surgeon who's afraid of blood. By the end of the first chapter, we know their backgrounds and their character differences.

Q: Different, they are. And funny together. Was your plan to do a modern take on Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn?
A: Are you saying I didn't invent this genre? Opposites attract. Battle-of-the-sexes. Flint and steel causes sparks.

Q: No, you didn't invent it. It's a classic notion. Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew. Which more or less led to Cole Porter's Kiss Me, Kate. Then Dashiell Hammett's Thin Man series.
A: Okay, okay. Why not throw in the television shows? McMillan and Wife, Remington Steele and Moonlighting.

Q: I saw Stephen J. Cannell's quote, calling your book "Moonlighting in the courtroom."
A: I owe Steve lunch for that.

Q: You used the Gordon Jenkins song, But I Loved Her, as your epigraph. Sinatra singing that she's champagne and he's beer, she's polo and he's race track, she's --
A: Better stop now or I'll have to pay rights fees on the lyrics. But yes, that's the idea. Victoria Lord follows all the rules. Steve makes up his own. "Solomon's Laws." Number one: "If the law doesn't work...work the law." Victoria thinks he's dangerous.

Q: But danger can be sexy.
A: You're right. A lot of women like "bad boys."

Q: Were you a bad boy?
A: I might have been, but I don't remember.

Q: So that's the set-up. Two very different lawyers with seemingly nothing in common must work together to defend a murder trial with sexual overtones.
A: What does that mean? "Sexual overtones?"

Q: You seem to like poking fun at the legal system. Is it really that wacky in the Miami courthouse?
A: Not every judge is incompetent or senile or finds precedent in Perry Mason novels, but we have some doozies who may have been out in the sun too long.

Q: I loved the Courthouse Gang, the old-timers who follow Steve around the courthouse.
A: The gang needs some excitement. And Steve's a one-man circus. You expect him to drive a VW into court and a dozen clowns fall out.

Q: Marvin the Maven. Cadillac Johnson. Teresa Toraño. Are they based on real people?
A: Absolutely. When I was a young lawyer, I made friends with the retirees who go from courtroom to courtroom, looking for the best entertainment. They'd seen more trials than I had, so I took their advice in picking juries and whether a witness was telling the truth and where to get a warm bagel with a schmeer.

Q: Did the real Marvin the Maven help you pick jurors based on shoes women wear?
A: Yep. He once owned a shoe store and believed he could discern a woman's personality from her choice in footwear. Open-toes and three-inch heels mean she's a good defense juror in a criminal case.

Q: You moved from Miami to Los Angeles in 1999 to begin writing for television. Can you tell us why?
A: For the health insurance.

Q: You're being flippant again.
A: I'm semi-serious. In network TV, they overpay you and provide handsome pension and health benefits. My mistake was...I thought the work would be easy. I pictured myself rolling into the Paramount Pictures lot about 11AM, having martinis at lunch at Musso & Frank's, maybe knocking out a few pages of dialogue in the afternoon, so I could write my novels at night.

Q: But it didn't work out that way?
A: Like Rick, who moved to Casablanca for the waters, I was misinformed. Sometimes, you work all night. If an episode is shooting, you might have to re-write on the run. The time constraints of television are unforgiving.

Q: For the record, you worked on JAG and co-created and co-executive produced First Monday.
A: What record is that?

Q: Just a figure of speech. You wrote more than 20 episodes of JAG. Tell us about writing TV scripts.
A: It's harder than it looks. You're telling stories in 43 minutes. You need to write tight, and of course you don't have the novelist's ability to go inside the character's head.

Q: Do you find coming back to novels liberating?
A: That's a good word for it.

Q: Tell us about First Monday, the Supreme Court show.
A: You mean Emmy-nominated First Monday?

Q: You're making that up.
A: No lie. Bruce Broughton's theme music was nominated. By the time they held the awards, we were canceled.

Q: How do you get a show on network television?
A: Easiest way is to change your name to Jerry Bruckheimer or Dick Wolf.

Q: You're being flippant again.
A: Okay. You pitch the network. If it's CBS, you go over to Television City at Beverly and Fairfax, next to the Farmer's Market, and sit in a room with three executives. You have about 20 minutes or so to make a presentation. It's like an argument to an appellate court. You talk, they ask questions. Basically, you lay out the template for the show.

Q: The template?
A: The franchise. You say, "It's a show about a teenage girl who talks to God." Or, "It's about the survivors of a plane crash on a deserted island." Then you lay out the characters, the broad beats of the pilot and the theme, assuming there is one. And when you leave, another writer shleps in and does the same thing. So these poor executives have to sit there all July and August when they'd rather be in Aspen. After Labor Day, the network orders a few dozen pilot scripts. And when the scripts come in, a smaller number of pilots are actually shot, and in the spring, a tiny handful are chosen to go on the air. And of those, most will fail.

Q: So what's the secret of keeping a show on the air?
A: How would I know? But ask me how to get a show off the air.

Q: Okay. How?
A: Bad demographics. Advertisers want viewers between ages 18 and 34 because studies show they can be most influenced by television commercials.

Q: What were your demographics on First Monday?
A: You ask nasty questions.

Q: So I assume you didn't do great between 18 and 34?
A: No. But we were gangbusters between Medicare and the mortuary.

Q: What's next for Paul Levine?
A: Short term, I'm going to have lunch. Long term, I've got a few more Solomon vs. Lord stories to tell.