To Luis Royo

There are moments in life you remember with such clarity, merely closing your eyes brings them rushing back. The moment I laid eyes on Luis Royo’s art for the first time is like that for me.

I’m sitting in a small room at the back of our house, the only spot with sun at three on a wintry afternoon. It’s not the cold draft down my neck that makes me shiver as I gaze at the envelope in my hand. My editor’s forewarned me. This is the cover art for my first novel.

Forewarned. The cover can’t be changed. I can make minor changes to the final draft of A Thousand Words for Stranger to suit, if I wish.

Roger stands beside me. Our kids are in school. I take a deep breath. “All I want,” I assure him, “is not to have a bimbo in a zipped-open spacesuit.” I’m brave. No, not really, but I intend to be professional.

My hands shake as I rip the tab. Inside the envelope is a single piece of paper. I grasp a corner carefully, close my eyes, and pull out the print. Then I look.

I see.

Tears well up so quickly the image blurs. I hand the print to Roger, grab for tissues, look again.

It’s a masterpiece. There’d been a lilt in Sheila’s voice, and now I know why. Suit my story? It’s better than any dream. To think, an artist of such surpassing skill has seen this in my words.

I love writing, but that was the moment I first understood the joy of being read. To have another mind be inspired by my words. To have another mind and hands produce something so wonderful from them. I remain in awe.

Thank you, Luis, for that moment and for every one since. As I begin each new story I look forward more than I can say to seeing your vision of it. Each time I do, I happily admit, there are tears of joy.

Usted toca mi corazón. Usted siempre.