I like you.
You’re pretty awesome.
And your shoes are cool.
I love getting your emails, letters, fan art, videos, music and book recommendations, pictures of your cats and your tattoos and your cats’ tattoos.* I’m blown away by how smart, talented, funny, and heartfelt you are. Not gonna lie—some of your emails have made me misty, and I’ve had to tell people nearby that I have conjunctivitis.
I dearly wish I could respond to everything; alas, I cannot. But I do read every single thing you send, and I really appreciate the communication. Sadly, I cannot do your homework, either, because, well, I’ve got to do mine or my editor will put me in the Bad Author Box again. It’s dark and scary in there. And they pipe in the sounds of goats singing pop songs.
* I’m afraid that I’m not able to read your fan fiction or stories/novels, but please do keep writing and don’t give up. And when it’s ready, give it to the whole world to read.