A wonderful benefit of becoming a mystery writer is that you’re exposed to new books in your favorite genre all the time. You meet so many other authors, talented men and women who write books you really want to read. And so you buy them. And buy them. And buy them. And your TBR pile grows. And grows. And grows. (TBR means Too Be Read. Don’t feel bad, for the longest time I didn’t know what it meant either.)
And you go to one of the fantastic conventions or conferences like Left Coast Crime or Malice Domestic or the mothership of all of them, Bouchercon. And you leave with bags filled with more books, in addition to the ones you bought because you made more author friends and, well… you really, really want to read them.
Your husband finally says, “What the hell?! There are books EVERYWHERE! I trip over them when I’m trying to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night!” So… you hide them under the bed.
But you can’t part with any of them. So… what I’m trying to say is that I LOVE books. And I especially LOVE books written by wonderful authors that I’ve been lucky enough to meet and even befriend. And I want to read them all. And I will. But dear author friends, as you can see from my collection of TBR piles, it may take me a while to read all of you. But I will. So be patient.
And if my book happens to end up in one of your TBR piles, I promise that I’ll be patient, too.