Dear Mr. Dan Brown:

I'm so sorry for all the success you've had. The one million books sold in one day. The years spent on the NYT Best Seller lists. The hit movies adapted from your novels.

You see, I'm a rarity. A writer wannabe who doesn't hate you. Doesn't criticize your work. And sure as hell, doesn't envy your success.

Especially that last one. I've seen the vicious blog posts, the vapid reviews and the vindictive tweets. I admired the way you smile through such adversity, all the way to the bank.

When I worked in a bookstore a few years ago, I fielded many complaints from customers about a certain book of yours. That you'd be condemned to Hell for writing it. That anyone who read it would also meet your fate. Since I'm going to Hell anyway for my beliefs (according many of the same people who criticized you, your work and your fans), I wanted to learn more about one of the gentlemen who would be joining me in the infernal domains.

You know what? I liked The DaVinci Code. It was a fun, rollicking rollercoater of an afternoon read on a dreary winter Sunday. But my opinion doesn't matter.

The real question here is 'Are you, Dan Brown, still having fun writing?' With all the crap you recieve on a daily basis, do you still get excited as you sit down with your computer, notepad or typewriter? To paraphrase Paul Stanley, since you don't have to worry about the money anymore, are you still having a blast?

Because if we end up in Hell, you will be forced to write books like The DaVinci Code, and I will be forced to read them. Forever.

Guess what? I'm looking forward to it.

Until then, enjoy your success, Mr. Brown. You've earned it.