You devour epic fantasy and seize the opportunity to transcend worlds through books. It’s not unusual for you to sink into a recliner, in the most secluded corner of your house, and read for hours. And interspersed between trilogies set in distant worlds, you come back to this one, drawn to the mysterious, dark realm of supernatural thrillers and horror. Exotic settings must jump off the page and come alive in your mind, especially stories of survival; life on the fine edge of existence. You cheer for the reluctant hero, the common man thrust into obligation and you also cheer for the villain, the arch nemesis.
Episodes of “Ancient Aliens” clog your DVR while you anxiously await the return of “Cities of the Underground” on History. You can recite verses from “The Raven” but get more excited when someone wants to talk about “The Rats in the Walls.” Heavy music fills your iPod. Those shiny discs that the kids no longer recognize lay scattered on the passenger side of your truck. You are a fan of Black Sabbath and Aerosmith, not “reality show” Ozzy or “American Idol” Steven. You prefer “Master of Puppets” over “The Black Album,” and like Cliff more than Jason or Robert. The rumble of a Harley Fatboy makes you smile and you know Detroit will never produce anything cooler than a 1977 Corvette. When you have the choice, you opt for Guinness over Budweiser and Starbucks over Dunkin Donuts. You can’t hang a picture without a power tool. You can’t purchase a power tool without hanging it in your garage.
Louis C.K. makes you laugh while the memory of George Carlin makes you cry. You love vampires and hate Twilight. You know the difference between a hip check and a cross check and despise golf unless it includes a home video of a Tiger mistress. You prefer Suicide Girls over Playboy Playmates, long hair over short hair, curves over rails. Ten years later, you don’t necessarily believe the full-on conspiracy theory surrounding 911, but you also know an F-15E Strike Eagle could have prevented anything from hitting the Pentagon.
Too young to give up, too old to start over. Too immature for Johnny Walker Red, too mature for a case of Busch. You’ve been around long enough to get tired of mainstream entertainment and yet you’re still excited by a new author, band, or movie.
This is you, my ideal reader. Let’s hang out sometime. I want to be your ideal author.