by Cate Holahan
Big thanks to my mom, Angela Holahan. Some moms encourage their kids by patting them on the back. My mom mailed my first fiction story—written and illustrated by me at age seven—to a large children’s publishing house for consideration. She also saved the very nice rejection letter telling me to keep writing, and she never gave up emotionally supporting my dreams.
Thank you to my dad, Jay Holahan, for believing that I could be a thriller writer and encouraging me, even if he couldn’t understand why on earth I would want to be one. Gratitude to my grandfather, Jim Holahan, for showing me that wordsmiths, storytellers, and dreamers can do great things. You’ll always be an inspiration.
I am immensely blessed to have my daughters, Elleanor and Olivia. My ferocious love for them inspires the fear that I channel into thriller plots. More importantly, they are each joyful, smart, caring human beings who force me to be a better person on a daily basis.
Thanks to the first readers of my story or earlier works: My brother, James Holahan, for your honest and considered criticism. My sister, Tara Williams, for your gentle critiques and encouragement. Linda Honneus for not just reading it but getting excited about it. Saundra Ayala for the long lunches and letting me voice ideas. Margot Rayhill, for telling me that I was destined to be a writer and using examples from our childhoods to back it up and also being a great cheerleader and friend. Denize de Aquino for letting me talk through plot points for hours, asking random questions, and keeping me sane.
Thanks to my writing buddies Sue Homola and Daniel Davis. You each have a wonderful way with words. Your criticism and conversation were immensely helpful. Sue, you tell beautiful stories and you are just a great gal. Dan, you write poetry capable of scaring people’s pants off. A rare talent. Thanks to Michael Neff and the Algonkian Pitch Conference for introducing me to Paula, Sue, and Dan.
Thanks to the dear friends and family members that read my story or earlier work before I could claim anything close to a publishing deal. Lisa Hsu, you’ve read the good, the bad, and the worse and still told me to keep at it. Karin Kin, my sounding board for decades with the patience of a saint. Where would I be without you? Shana Travis, the kind of girl who is so amazing that her willingness to count you as a friend makes you believe in your own worth. My grandparents Gloria Fidee and Madeline Holahan, for reading scenes that were in no way their cup of tea and still insisting that I’m a good writer. Paul Holahan for not only reading it but also wanting to help sell it and for providing sound career advice. Megan Holahan, Julie Holahan, and Gabrielle Ayala for being the kind of folks that offer to read and critique and mean it. Signian McGeary for reading the story and your love of ideas. Michelle Shuey, a fun-loving new friend. You made me feel legit instead of like an ex-journalist who might just have made the biggest mistake of her career. Thank you.
High-five to John Melloy for congratulating me when I left my job to write full time. Other bosses would not have been so understanding.
Thanks to the friends and family who encouraged me along the way: Erika Van Natta, Ken Monahan, April Campos, Tamiko Zetrenne, Jen Ferriss-Hill, Soroya Campbell, Madeline Banks, Dyandra Canty, Dennis Lin, Garth Naar, Cheryl Naar, Sydney “Nino” Mullings, and Stacy Esser. Thanks to my dog, Westley Honneus, cuddler extraordinaire and woman’s best friend.
Big thanks to Tom Szaniawski for driving your motorcycle in the middle of the night after talking me through contract law for hours. Much gratitude as well to Jeremy McCurdy for explaining how guys handle things.
Thanks to Myung Sook Chun for teaching ballet to a thirty-two-year-old woman with no dance experience for two years so she could write a better novel.
I’ve had some wonderful writing teachers over the years that improved my craft and inspired a lifelong love of words. Kathryn Watterson and Barton Gellman, who taught writing at Princeton: thank you. Also a big thanks to Teaneck High School English teachers Alice Jacobs Twombly and Rhetta Maide.
Above all, thanks to my wonderful husband, Brett Honneus. The fact that you are not an avid reader makes your unwavering willingness to support me all the more incredible. You’ve encouraged, listened to, and believed in me. You’ve fallen asleep to a keyboard clicking beside your head and insisted we get help so I could work even when my “work” didn’t involve monetary compensation. You’ve listened to me read aloud entire pages. I’d break into a Bette Midler song if this paragraph were recorded and not just notes on a page. I love you. I am blessed to have you. You are my better half and, for the record, are not and could never be the inspiration for any male villain.
Last but not least, thanks to God. I know some people equate believing in a higher power to a kid having faith in Santa Claus, but all the aforementioned people are the only proof I need. And if that makes me crazy, so be it.
