You like me! You really, really like me!
Yes, I just went all Sally Field on you, and yes, I realize it's a misquote.
I just found out that I picked up one of these babies from the Western Publishing Association, for my column on EMS1.com. This is the third time I've been a Maggie finalist, and the first time to win one. I am told that, in the print and electronic publishing worlds, they are a Very Big Deal.
I just want to thank everyone who reads my disjointed little scribblings here and elsewhere on the web. I'll never forget all the little people I've stepped on along the way the support of loyal readers, friends and colleagues, and I vow that success will never change me. I'll always be the same humble, self-effacing, blue-collar guy you've all come to know and love.**
But the one letdown about winning the Maggie was the fact that I wasn't there to give an acceptance speech. I had envisioned sitting there at the table with my editors and the bigwigs at Praetorian Group, resplendent in my powder blue tux with ruffled shirt, napkin tucked into my collar, while all the chumps losers other deserving nominees were announced, and then, "And the Maggie goes to…"
It was going to be friggin' glorious.
So you can imagine my disappointment upon learning of my victory after the fact, and that my editors had accepted the statuette obelisk doohickey trophy on my behalf. No doubt they were whooping it up most of the night, soaking up my stolen glory, showing off my Maggie to all the nubile e-publishing groupies (and you know those chicks are hot), riding in limos and drinking Cristal and snorting coke off an expensive hooker's bre -
- I'm sorry. Where was I?
Oh yeah, my acceptance speech.
Well, I may have been cheated of my moment in the spotlight, dammit, but I will deliver my acceptance speech. I deserve that much. So without further ado:
"First of all, I'd like to thank God for the talent. None of this would be possible without His blessing me with such a towering gift. But even literary talents as prodigious as mine would go unnoticed were it not for the worker bees behind the scenes, like my editor Jamie Thompson, and Kris Kaull, and the intern who fetches my latté, and the guy who blows the Cheeto dust out of my keyboard, and those wonderful gnomes who keep my office stocked with Shiner Bock and green M&M's, and Missy, the grl who gives me chair massages until my muse returns… I mean, when it comes down to it, Kelly Grayson's only one man, and Kelly Grayson knows that without the support of people like them, people not blessed with his talent, but nonetheless dedicated in their own simple way… well, Kelly Grayson would not be standing before you today, clutching this award. And so, from the bottom of Kelly Grayson's heart, thank you."
I've got a spot reserved on the mantel for this baby, but first I think I'll lug it with me to all the EMS conferences I'm doing this fall, to give you – the little people – a chance to touch my Maggie. It's the least I could do to express my gratitude. Have your people call my people, and we'll do lunch.
Ciao, babies.
*air kisses*
*Admittedly, it's no leg lamp, but it should still look nice on the mantel.
** Until I can ditch all you losers and buy me some new, classier friends.
