I have nothing to sell you today, and nothing yet to announce. I write only to add my voice to the choir of spring colors that celebrate the fact that you exist. You, my friends and readers, have been a blessing to me beyond anything I dared to even hope for in those early days passed in countless coffee shops penning Trevor’s tale in South of Bixby Bridge.
Some of you have asked what I’ve been up to, and when you can expect a new novel. In answer all I can say is I’ve been enjoying the heck out of life—riding rainbows and tickling horses on this island, watching every sunset and wishing for all of you the same sense of peace and comfort that has been visited here on me. There’s a certain kind of light that hangs in the cool evening air here, and I’ll admit its beauty has arrested my attention, and with it my pen. But at last, I have harpooned the great whale of a muse and I’m holding on for the ride as I dive deep into my latest work. You’ll be the first to know when I surface with more to share.
My apologies if you’re one of the many who’ve been neglected by me in responding to your correspondence. I’ll try to save enough of my writing hand to soon get to signing all those books and cards I’ve yet to send. I’m afraid due to a server snafu, many of your messages failed to reach me or were deleted before I could respond. In the future you can get word to me at firstname.lastname@example.org (“email” being part of the address and not a verb) or the old fashioned way by addressing your inquiries to P.O. Box 4252, Seattle, WA 98194.
Wishing you all the best!