Forget the Headstone, Just Read One of My Novels

            I was enjoying a perfectly wonderful walk with my dog today when one of my neighbors approached me and informed me that she and her husband were flying back east to pick out a headstone for their graves. I’m usually not at a loss for words, but today I just stood there, hoping the dog would bark, pee or do something. Anything.

            A headstone? Now? These folks are in their late fifties, maybe early sixties at most. So why do they need to do that now? Talk about planning ahead. I’m lucky if  I remember to renew the car insurance!

            Then it got me thinking. Who on earth is going to come and look at my headstone? I’m not Jim Morrison, or Edgar Allen Poe. They have lots of headstone followers. I’m just happy I have readers. And that’s where I’d like my posterity to wind up – with my books.

            If “Time Travel Mysteries” manages to catch on and gain readership, that’s enough for me. I’d like to believe that once I’ve departed from this life, my novels will continue to entice and engage readers. That’s far more interesting than staring at a piece of granite with my name on it. (Unless of course I decide to carve something relevant on my kitchen counter top…).

            Like most authors, we hope our writing spans the generations. So, as long as readers want mystery, suspense and adventure, I might stand a shot at this. Besides, novels weigh a whole lot less than headstones!