"Did you give them my feedback?" he asked me later, as if I have some Svengali-like power over the organizers of one of the most successful annual fundraisers in New York. "Too much fish taco. Not enough hot gay guys. And too much talking!"
I am certain that I will never be as great a writer as Elmore Leonard. At the very least, I can never be accused of aping his style. But we all have to do things in our own way and in our own time. Elmore Leonard won’t get to experience another perfect summer night in Manhattan, as I did tonight. Or every know the joy of seeing a random group of gay guys in loose tank tops squealing on Ninth Avenue at the sight of a cockroach strolling by their flip flops. On second thought, maybe with that last one, he is better off.