Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Sad day

One of my favorite authors died this morning. Minnesota’s Vince Flynn, who wrote 14 books and was at work on another, had been battling prostate cancer and died at 47.

It’s a sad day when someone dies, let alone someone so young. But I was a little surprised by the lump in my throat when I saw the news come across my Twitter feed.

After all, it’s not like I’d ever met the man. Sure, I’ve read all of his books, heard him on the radio, and watched him on TV.

Part of the reason for my strong reaction was that Flynn was a guy who worked his way to the pinnacle of success. You can read more here. But the short version is this: Flynn was diagnosed with dyslexia in grade school; decided to write a book later in life; wrote that book; couldn’t find an agent or publisher; self-published that book; became wildly successful.

It’s a story that should resonate with anyone who appreciates the rewards of hard work, and especially with those of us who find Flynn’s story pretty damn inspirational. As a self-published author myself, Flynn is an iconic figure and his story is a constant reminder of following a dream, believing in yourself, and reaching your goals no matter the roadblock.

Rest in peace, Vince.

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