Accidents Waiting to Happen has been out for a while, so emails have been hitting my mailbox from readers. I can honestly say there’s a little bit of trepidation when I receive an email titled: I’ve read your book. Sounds innocuous enough, but a statement like that can be read a bunch of ways. I’ve read your book…and I loved it. But it could also mean, I’ve read your book…and you should be looking over your shoulder for a long time because I know where you live, you son of a bitch.
Luckily the emails I’ve received have been the former and not the latter—and for those who think the latter, I’m armed, okay? So just back off, buddy.
So my ego has been fed over recent weeks with some very nice praise. One of the recurring themes has been along the lines of, “a great beach read.”
Hmm. A great beach read, eh? No one has mentioned anything about it being a future classic of literature or a life changing experience. It keeps picking up the beach and airplane tag. I mentioned this to a friend and they asked, “Aren’t you offended?”
The simple answer is no. I think it’s wonderful to be thought of as a beach or airplane read. I have no pretensions. I really mean it when I say I want to entertain the reader. I don’t have an agenda. I don’t want to educate. I want to provide a little escapism. I want someone to forget how cramped it is in economy and how much work is building on their desk while they veg out on the beach as they flip through the pages of my imagination. If the book ends up as a dog-eared bundle of pages that spends the rest of its productive life as a doorstop, so be it. All I ask is that they’ll remember me the next time they hit the beach or board a plane.
Yours in your hand luggage,