reposted from Dec 2011:
Dear reader/writer/event organizer,
Thank you for the email/letter/blog comment. I really do care that you reached out to me. You asked so kindly if I would read your manuscript/answer questions for your school project/sign and return your books. Surely I'm no busier than you are. We're all busy. The very least you deserve is a response. But silence followed.
The truth is, it really would be in my best interest to blurb your book/be interviewed on your blog/attend your book event. Publicity is important for any author and you were so kind to think of me. You must think me rude for not responding to your email/Facebook message/tweet. You may have expected more from me. After all, I sound so accessible on my blog/Facebook/interviews. And we have a personal connection since we're from the same place/have a friend in common/both like cheese fries. Surely I'm the kind of person who doesn't get so full of herself she ignores the common reader?
I don't have great excuses, just the usual of kids/books/sloppy brain syndrome. In all sincerity, I feel guilty about my ineptitude at responding to your kindness. Every day. I can't respond to everyone, of course. That would be impossible unless I had a personal assistant/magic time expander/clone. But because you were so awesome with your request, I fully intended to respond to you, and then a baby woke up/I realized I hadn't eaten all day/I plumb forgot. I hope you don't take this personally. You are a noble woman/man/giant ant deserving of real attention. You know what would be awesome? You should go ahead and become a famous writer/entertainer/cheese fry chef and when I ask you for something, you should ignore me! Justice, baby.
Take care, enjoy this snow/rain/sunshine, and I hope one day you can forgive me. I really am sorry.