The Thing About Acknowledgments

It’s funny. Whenever I get to the end of a book and see an acknowledgments page, I feel a little disappointed. Granted, I’ve included acknowledgments pages in my own books, and I’ve been thrilled to see my name mentioned among the acknowledgments of authors I admire, so I’m not arguing that authors shouldn’t include them in the back pages of their books. But by the time I reach the end of a book, especially a book I love, I feel like I’ve really gotten to know the author intimately, like I’m the author’s special friend. And then I turn the page and the illusion is shattered when I see all of the author’s true confidantes listed in black and white.

Does anyone else ever feel this way, or is it just me?