Hi Cat,

Well, I can imagine how you might feel that way if you’ve joined my world cold. Meaning, when you don’t know me from Adam. I usually send a few emails to warm folks up before I start talking to them like a pal from high school.

My greetings. Calling a perfect stranger Almond Milk.

My god, you made me laugh. White cracker. This greeting stuff is like Rorschach ink blots. We each see something very different than the next person. A great reminder. But I suppose I can see how you might make the association. I don’t think I’ve heard the expression cracker since, like, 1972. And no, that wasn’t my intention. Just having some fun because greetings can be so boring. Or worse, you get the Hello Asheyey. Which is what I’ll often get because I’ve filled out an opt-in form too quickly. And I forever have to read stuff addressed to Asheyey. Which I find oddly annoying.

Want to know something funny? I get a lot of people writing to me with greeting suggestions. Like Bisquick and Carrot Top and Curly Fries. Hey there, Bisquick. I get such a charge out of that.

I suppose a newsletter about books–books related to alcoholism, of all things–might seem random, particularly if you entered my world because you were interested in writing. But writers are readers. And if you’re writing non-fiction, you need to be reading a number of books about your topic. It helps to understand the oeuvre. It so happens that I’ve read a lot of this type of book over the years because of my background. And I discovered that a large number of the people in my world share this in common with me. Don’t you think that’s interesting? BTW, thanks so much for the recommendation. If this is the best book out there on the topic, well, how do you suppose I missed it?!

Next week, I’ll probably share something about the writing craft, or publishing, or about some mountain climbing trip…. Because it’s all mixed up in my head. It’s all one. Life is reading is writing. And the beautiful thing about putting out a newsletter every week, year in and year out, is that you get to write about whatever springs to mind. You sort of have to. Because people get really bored about hearing me yammer on about sentence structure and the use of past tense as opposed to present. Sure, I try to make a given post relevant, but sometimes I get to be off target. I’ll hope you’ll ride along a bit regardless.

The pitch. The one attached to a story about my house needing to be painted. Welllll, I don’t like to call what I advertised there “a pitch” per se. I think of it more as an offer. I love to tell stories, to teach lessons on writing, to point out really good books, but I’m also in business.  One of the mistakes that we writers make is that we forget to let people know what it is that we do, how we can serve them, what it is that we sell. We writers like to be read, so we’ll go for years forgetting to mention this stuff. That doesn’t do anyone much good. I like to think I can do both. Tell a good story AND let people know how I might serve them.

Is this a newsletter? I don’t know. I suppose you could call it that. A regular missive also works. A love note. A tap on the nose.  A hey, how are you doing, this is what I’m thinking about today, maybe I can teach you something or remind you of something you may have forgotten. I certainly couldn’t get away with this nonsense if I were representing a corporation, but thank God I’m not.

By the way. I loved the description of you along with your signature: author, seamstress, and Recipient of the Grace of God.  There you go. You’re a whole bunch of random things all wrapped up into one. You get to be and do it all. So we’re more alike than you may give us credit for.

So thank you so much for reaching out and letting me know what you think.

Big hugs,

Ann