A great magician never reveals his tricks. Luckily I’m not a great magician, so I can spill my guts to anyone who’ll listen. At this point, that means you, because you’re still here. A lot of people have helped make me look better than I am, so this one goes out to them.
To Peter Wolverton, as insightful an editor as a writer could ever ask for, for bringing out the very best of the story you’ve just read, and all the team at St. Martin’s who worked so hard to make this happen. Most notably, to Jennifer Donovan for running interference.
To my agents, Judith Murray and Chris Wellbelove at Greene and Heaton, who put up with my mad ideas.
To Mike Nicholson, Thomas Alwin, Stephen Morris, Andy Coulthard, and Stefan Lindblad for the coffee and friendship that made the obsessive search for Glass Town so much easier than it might have been alone. To Pat Cattigan for years of fantasy football rivalries to match the best of them. To Marie, my long-suffering wife, who won’t read this line and will never know.… I could say anything at this point. Anything. I could promise a shopping spree in London, all-expenses paid, and she’d be none the wiser. Don’t blab. This can be our secret.
And for my next trick …