One of these days I'm going to get around to writing a book (and start exercising and eating healthy and reading more and..... sorry, where was I?) Oh, right, the book. I always read the acknowledgements at the end and they're always the same. Thanks to my dedicated editor without whom I couldn't have done this. Thanks to for the support of my friends, blah blah blah. Just once, I'd like to see a writer say "screw this, I wrote this and no one's getting credit but me." This is how I imagine that acknowledgments section going.
First of all, to my editor. You are a lousy good-for-nothing know-it-all who wouldn't know good writing if it slapped you across the face. The suggestions you made to my manuscript were not only worthless, they actively made the writing worse. The fact I caught more typos than you makes me wonder not if you were drunk during your so-called editing, but exactly how drunk you were. I would call you a fool, but I paid you actual, honest-to-God money for your "services," so I guess that would make me the fool.
To my friends Tim, Josh, Dave, Damon, Shannon, Melissa, Becky and Lauren, I couldn't have done this with you. And by this, I mean missing deadlines because you did nothing but badger me to go out and spend time with you rather than working on my dream project. Your selfish, myopic lifestyle is mentally and emotionally draining. You make Seinfeld and his friends look like they live a life of charity and giving. The fact that anyone, including me, is able to suffer through your presence for any sustained length of time is a testament to the both the strength of the human spirit and to the delusions we'll tell ourselves simply to not be alone.
To my brother and sister-in-law, Adam and Erin, would it have killed you just once to watch my kid for a few hours so I could conduct an interview in peace? I wasn't asking for a 4-day weekend complete with a sleepover with 12 of his closest friends and refridgerator full of Mtn. Dew. Just a couple hours on a Wednesday night so I could talk to this guy I’ve spent the better part of six months tracking down and arranging an interview. But no, your precious weeknight SunBelt football game just couldn't be missed. Thanks for that.
To mom and dad, you did well. We’re cool.
To my loving wife, WTF? For years you encouraged me to follow my dream and write a book. Then, just as I finally decide to do it, you start criticizing me for not helping around the house as much. Yes, I let the dishes pile up a little more than usual, and yes, I may have asked you to help with the nighttime routine for our son more often, but you knew that was part of what it would entail once I decided to write this book. You can’t then turn around and nag me for not folding the laundry right away because I was working on a chapter. It’s not really fair to ask me to follow my dream and then complain when I do.
Finally, to my son, Andrew. Thanks for not spilling juice on the computer. You’re four, that’s probably all I could have asked from you.
*Thanks to Jon Walsh (@j85royals on twitter, which is where we 'met') for the idea for this post.