John Camp and I go way back. I was there for him when few others cared.
Buddies, I like to think.
Close as two d’s in a Todd.
Tango and Cash.
Camp is better know by the pseudonym John Sanford, the name under which he has written the series of “Prey” crime novels featuring a fellow Cool Kid named Lucas Davenport.
Now mind you, me and John have never actually met. He knows me like I know a Banach manifold topological space homeomorphism.
He owes his career to me.
I bought his first “Prey” book when it originally came out. “Rules of Prey” it was called, and it was twisted tight.
He wasn’t a best-selling author then. Back then, readers didn’t know him from John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.
He was just a scribbler trying to make his mark.
I bought every “Prey” book as it came out. I, and a few others, kept him going.
Don’t you agree, O Best Ones, that the reader is as important as the writer? Isn’t an unread book just sodium-free alphabet soup?
They need to write. Sure. But what they really need is to be read.
Ergo, alter ego summa cui bono. They need us. Badly.
Which makes me ponder: Shouldn’t books come with a fin tucked in instead of a price tag stuck on.
Isn’t that how supply and demand works?
Economic theory. Sheesh.
Anyway, to return to the narrative proper.
Others began to take notice of Davenport’s adventures. Catching the Cool Kid’s vibe, for sure. Then in 2000, Sanford’s “Easy Prey” hit No. 1 on the best-sellers list.
Suddenly, he was Snake Plissken.
But I knew him when.
I used a little of my jingle-jangle to keep him going -- until the steerage got on board.
That’s why I say John and I are as close as bad kerning.
Now, I’ve got something serious to say.
I know all you “Prey” fans are pretty grateful to the Cool Kid.
But don’t prostrate.
I get “aww, shucks” at a thank you.
It’s just what the Cool Kid does.
It’s just in his nature.
To contact writer Randy Waters, call 744-4420.