I have many favorite authors. Some I read. Some I consider good friends. Some fall into both categories. But, truth be told, my favorite author is me. Not to sound arrogant, but if we can’t love ourselves and our own work, how can we expect others to love it enough to actually pay for it. So, while the question of the week is to write your favorite author's Edgar acceptance speech, with your indulgence, here is my Edgar acceptance speech.
Picture a short, fat middle-aged woman dressed in a lovely black lace dress and wobbling around in uncomfortable shoes because, let’s be frank, Crocs doesn’t yet make a style for formal wear. Her newly grown out gray hair is perfectly spiked, and for a change she is wearing lipstick and mascara (but only because her manager threatened her with bodily harm if she didn’t). In her hands she clutches an ugly bust of a man with black painted hair and moustache and a deathly white face. Sue Ann Jaffarian has just won the Edgar, mystery writing’s most coveted prize. It doesn’t matter which category.
In the background Kelly Clarkson croons A Moment Like This.
For a moment like this,
Some people wait a lifetime…
On stage I’m blubbering like a kid whose favorite doll just fell in the mud. I stand before the microphone, sniff back the tears and open my mouth. Nothing comes out but the rasp of mucous. More tears fall. My mascara is running down my face like roots from hell-trees.
Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me.
Some people wait a lifetime,
For a moment like this
The crowd quiets, waiting for me to pull myself together and say a quick word of thanks so they can return to their cocktails. I want a drink, too. Desperately. I clutch the statuette so hard, the microphone picks up a pronounced crack.
“Damn,” I say with wet and swollen words. “I think I broke Edgar’s neck.”