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For Mary. We were a heckuva team and, while she lived, I was the luckiest man in the world. Fortunately, I knew it, and I told her. Often. That makes all the difference now.
Without the help of my entire family, this book would have been not merely impossible, but preposterous to even contemplate. Whenever I had a plot or character problem, I’d invite the kids out to dinner, and they’d solve it before the appetizers were gone. Many of the characters and sub plots were their ideas. They endured many painfully bad drafts and provided excellent guidance and encouragement. This novel was a family effort. And, if you don’t like it, blame their encouragement. I was only following orders.
Thanks to the Burlington Writers Workshop. Especially Barbara Alsop. So much talent. So much excellent guidance to improve my skills. Absolutely invaluable. To their credit, my writing now sucks a lot less than it used to.
Thanks to my professional editor, Susan NC Price. Outstanding edits, including a major reorganization. Massive improvement. It’s a good thing I had one professional involved in this book. Thanks to my amateur editor Diane Kassmann. You gave me a shitpot of work to do (grudge, grudge), but you made the book better. Oh, and Julie Smith, the Alabama princess. She translated some of the dialog into Southern.
All remaining problems are on me. Unless I find someone else to blame.
Finally, I owe the FBI a profound apology. Law is the foundation of civilization, and the police and FBI are the strength of that foundation. They drag the rest of us, sometimes kicking and screaming, out of barbarism and into civilization. I have the highest respect for them. But, in several scenes, I needed a villain, and FBI agents kept being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hobson's choice.