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Some authors, when asked the secret of their success, will cite loved ones, hard work, or boundless tenacity. If one were to pose the same question to S.J. Saunders, he’d likely narrow his eyes and respond, “Who told you I was a success? Is this something you saw on the internet?” He doesn’t take compliments well, is what I’m saying. He’s gotten better, though. Baby steps. Anyway, he usually ungraciously deflects well-intentioned kindness (and he’s sorry about that) in the land of Oregon, before his wife, no kids, and no pets gently reprimand him for his numerous faux pas.