You don’t see me whine and complain much here, and author John Connolly knows why:
There are good things and bad things about being a writer. In truth,
the good things far outweigh the bad, and the bad are generally things
about which it is churlish to complain.
He’s right. This was the lead-up to him telling the tale of having to fly from South Africa to L.A. to interview Stephen King in New York in front of hundreds of fans and publishing execs.
True, perhaps I tried too hard with some of my questions, and I am
still kicking myself 24 hours later over the fact that I confused the
words "ambiguous" and "ambivalent" in one of my interrogations (I plead
nerves), an error that King corrected without comment. Yet all through
the interview, and for some time afterwards, a small voice in my head
reminded me that this was probably as good as it was going to get. I
was interviewing a writer whom I had long admired, and whom I had long
wanted to interview, in front of a sympathetic audience. This was a
writer whose work I had begun reading before I even entered my teens,
and my boyhood self could never have imagined that, one day, he would
be sharing a stage with this man.
I know exactly how he feels. I feel that way every day, especially when I am in the company of people like David Morrell, Steve Cannell, Stuart Kaminsky, Ken Levine, Janet Evanovich, Michael Gleason, Robert Parker, Donald Westlake, Sue Grafton, Michael Connelly, William Link…the list goes on and on and on. Half the time I am with these writers I’ve admired for so long, many of whom I now count as friends, I am struck by how unbelievably fortunate and privileged I am.