As we were unloading our gear from the cart, I unzipped a pocket on my golf bag, grabbed my phone, and checked for messages. There was one message waiting for me. Only one, from my wife:
I have some bad news for you. Call me when you get a chance... Nothing too serious so don't panic.
Well, gentle reader, I panicked. You see, my wife is currently 7 months pregnant and she sometimes has a habit of understating things. My brother was mid-sentence talking about who-knows-what when I dialed home and held a hand up in his face, giving him the "not now" look. He understood, returned to loading his gear into his car, keeping a furtive glance my way for any sign of what was going on. "I have some bad news for you" was floating in the hazy dusk air, and I couldn't dial fast enough.
She picked up on the second ring and told me. No, nothing about the baby. No really, just listen. Vince Flynn died today. I'm so sorry. He's dead.
Gentle reader, this is upsetting. For those of you unfamiliar, Vince Flynn was a political thriller writer, author of 14 books--all best-sellers--which have sold over 15 million copies worldwide. Vince Flynn was a giant in the book world, and I loved reading his stuff. A real life author who maintained communication with his readership, who embedded real-world concerns into his fictitious reality of the CIA and American politics, who started off in the business by self-publishing and struggling and persevering. Flynn created the now famous CIA super-spy, Mitch Rapp, one of the coolest badman good guys in fiction. He was good at his craft, and he enjoyed it, and if you were a fan, you knew it.
My favorite authors list is not exclusive. I love Tolkien, Steinbeck, Lewis, Shakespeare. I love Gardner and McCarthy, Atwood and Crichton.
I love Flynn.
To all you other Vince Flynn fans, feel free to post your favorite Mitch Rapp moment in the COMMENTS section.
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