How I made it to Stanford and Harvard

I Google myself about once a week. I know that sounds like something perverts would do in a dark alley for $25 to somebody in a short skirt. Someone ugly enough you'd have to Google them in the dark. But in the 21st century, every writer needs to do it just to find out what kinds of horrible things folks are saying about them.

It turns out lately a whole lot of you haven't been bitching about me lately. That surprised me, but that's another story for another time.

As it turns out I was amazed to discover my books are being sold at Stanford University. Granted you can buy my books anywhere through Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com, but you can plunk down something like $15 and get "Crimes Against Commerce" across the counter there. I checked Harvard too. They're there.

I checked my alma matar, Central Washington University. Nope. After I got the bookstore manager on the phone, she said, "You're from SPOKANE?" She was still laughing when she hung up on me.

You can't buy my books in Spokane either.

I was shocked and amazed. I have no illusions about being the next J.K. Rowling or Stephen King. My work may be good, but it's not THAT marketable. My agent couldn't possibly get me into the Ivy League.

Then a cold streak ran down my spine. I imagined one of our future presidents, say around 2016... somebody like JFK or Jimmy Carter reading Crimes Against Commerce. Getting to know Stretch Walker. Reading pages 142-160. I became frightened. Really frightened. At this writing I'm 49. I now have an incentive to die before I reach 60.

I won't be looking both ways when I cross the street any more.