My First Critic

As I held my author copies of Egyptian Prosperity Magic, which arrived this week, I had to smile. My first critic would have been so proud, had he been here to share it with me.

My father was a quiet man, steady, hard working. But, he could be critical, as many parents are, though he did it with the best of intentions. He wanted his children to strive for perfection, achieve that which he did not, and in so doing, instilled in us the desire to excel.

My mother was, as most women are, more nurturing and instilled in us the desire to learn, to read, to love the English language, both written and spoken. She would praise our achievement; he would push us to achieve more. So, from both of my parents, I learned very valuable lessons which I carry with me today.

The profession of writing is a solitary business, fraught with rejection at every turn. But, having my father as my first critic, made me realise that not all criticism is bad. He was always there to praise our achievements, but he also made us want to achieve more -- to make him proud.

So, on this Father's Day, as I hold my newest book in my hand, I thank my father, who passed away in 2007, for giving me the strength and the tenacity to never quit. He, and my mother, would be quite proud of my accomplishments.