You know how a book dedication is all mushy and lovey, like “I dedicate this to my amazing spouse and my awesome kids who have inspired me to also be amazing and awesome, and isn’t the world just so amazing and awesome where you are too? Cuz everything is just so rosey peachy fantabulous!!!”
Well, if I ever manage to get anything published, I’m not going to have a dedication. I’m going to have an “In Spite Of.”
“In Spite Of my parents, who never seemed much interested in what I was writing, I kept writing, perhaps just to spite them back.
In Spite Of my spouse, who had time to read what other people had written but assumed mine must be a blog of very little brain, I have actually mustered the gumption to finish this book.
But most of all, In Spite Of my children, whose endless whining despite my best efforts broke my spirit, who never let me finish an entire sentence uninterrupted, whose constant chants of “You’re old!” and “You’re lame!” threatened my very will to live, I managed to somehow produce this one text you hold now in your hands.”
Perhaps honesty is NOT the best policy.
But it gives me some kind of relief to fantasize about it…