I'm getting excited about getting my baby born. My novel is hungry for readers' eyes. I am hungry for readers' comments through Amazon reviews. Here's hoping you'll be on board. What follows is the author note I placed at the back of the book. It expresses my thanks, denials, and explanations.
Author Note
There are different flavors of thanks I must express on the occasion of sharing my first novel-length story with the public:
Some of my earliest memories are of my mom’s voice reading stories to me as a child. Apparently, I had some creative abilities back then. She tells me that I had two imaginary friends in my early youth, Lickie and Dabadoo. The latter must have been a really good friend, as he often took the fall for me. According to Mom, I often blamed Dabadoo when I got caught doing something wrong. Given that, she could have but didn’t mount a campaign to stifle my creativity.
A cousin, Richard, planted the seed when he was in or around the sixth grade and I was a couple of years behind. He was an extremely smart kid who went on to earn a doctoral degree, always with the highest marks. Back then, he showed me his work in progress, a sequel to Baum’s Oz series. From that moment, I wanted to write a book of fiction.
When I was writing this book, I sent an e-mail to Richard to thank him for the enjoyment I was experiencing from composing it and to see if he would do me the honor of being one of my readers. Before I heard back from him, Richard died in a house fire. His mom told me that he had mentioned being touched by hearing from me about my book. In my heart and mind he has been my traveling companion on this journey ever since.
In junior high, I proved I could work in the fiction realm by earning an A for a book report on a book that did not exist. My appreciation for that teacher’s evaluation of the work will be to allow her to remain nameless.
Another thank you is due to Dorothy Tooke, the tiny little lady who was my teacher for Senior English and Journalism in my senior year at Broadmoor High School in Baton Rouge. Beowulf and such did not ring my chime at the time, but I learned more about writing in her Journalism class than at any other time in my life. I think she might take me to task for becoming the wordy writer I am, as she was a stickler for journalistic economy. But hey, I no longer need to conserve space for ads. I think of Dottie often as I compose and polish and reword and hone my work to make it as interesting as she would demand.
Simply wanting to write a novel is one thing, but the joy of reading works from several Southern authors whose words carried the spirit of the South and a sense of place are what finally inspired me turn wanting into doing. The Firm by John Grisham was a tense story that occurred on turf I knew, from the Peabody in Memphis to the Florabama on the panhandle coast of Florida about six feet from Alabama. I fell in love with Natchez when I came close to getting a job there years ago. Greg Iles’ suspenseful The Quiet Game made you feel everything about Natchez that enamored me. If you really want to fall in love with the South, read Pat Conroy. The Lords of Discipline was his book that showed me how love for Dixie can be written so as to rise right off the page. Every one of his books, fiction and non-fiction, has done that for me, and his South of Broad sits alone at the top of my list of favorite books.
The thanks I expressed to my wife, Suzie, in the dedication should be expanded to include her service as one of my readers. The others who have earned a thank you in that capacity are Christine Harris, Charlene Guillory, Mary Dodson, Sarah Krantz, Stacey Gilio, Kathy Reynolds, and Stacy Ryal. They read my story, provided watchful eyes for typos and poor usage, and offered suggestions to make my work better. I am also appreciative for editorial advice from Hilary Ross, the highly respected former Penguin editor. You can rest assured that if something ain’t perfect here, it’s my fault and not theirs.
More than half of this book was written in the cozy loft overlooking the main floor of the City Market Coffeehouse. The proprietor, Courtney Bates, provided a homey environment that encourages creativity and the arts.
My hat is tipped to Nathan Bransford and Chris Orcutt from whose blogs I have derived enlightenment and sustenance. I cannot put this to bed without giving a nod to Charles Simic, U.S. Poet Laureate (2007-2008) for a quote to live by: “Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the others were making ships.” To me it is a creed that has the additional benefit of incorporating the use of lighthouses, a fetish of mine.
With the exception of a bunch of queries on the Web, I pretty much avoided hardcore research in the writing of this story. I recently was warmed by reading John Grisham’s note in The Confession in which he professed not liking and avoiding research. There are instances where I took some license with how things work or used establishments that no longer exist, but hey, it’s fiction. There are places where I have taken minor pokes at a few public figures, thinly veiled versions of people of celebrity, and institutions but only in terms of things that have already been publicly hashed and rehashed. I hope no one takes offense. These folks chose public lives, and I’m certain that what I have said from my small forum will not diminish any of them. Other than those, all characters are fictional.
Last of all, I appreciate that you took a chance on my book. Depending on whether you read author notes first or last, I hope you will enjoy or have enjoyed By the Light: A Novel of Serial Homicide and that you will keep an eye out for my future work.
Spank me, Dottie. I’ve assembled too many words once again.
Dick Peterson
December, 2010
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