Today I felt a bit worse than yesterday,maybe I did too much.? Now that I think of it, I did take a shower, dressed, did my hair AND put on my face yesterday! Not sure what I was thinking? :)
I realize that I have to take baby steps, so today I stayed in my jammies till.... well that's not important, and just created cards for my family for Mother's Day. Oh how I wish I could make a personal one for each of you, but that makes me tired just thinking about it.
In January a dear friend got me some stamps while she was out at the stores ( that was one of my quarantine time periods ). She got me 100 stamps and you should have seen Jeff's face when I told him how many stamps I got. He kept saying
"when are you going to use that many stamps?", then in the same breath he would laugh and say "
Well, you do send cards and letters to EVERYONE!" I think he was mocking me.
But laugh if you want, but guess what happened to me today? Just after finishing and writing in each card, I went to go get the stamps to put on them....you guessed it, I am out of stamps. So see that is why I need to buy them at 100 a time.
I truly do love making and writing cards and letters. There are so many times that I can't personally get to my friends and family and tell them how much I love and miss them. But hopefully they know that, after receiving a card from me. The only problem is ...my handwriting is getting worse, but if I don't write too many in a row and try to slow down some it's a bit better. This old age thing is cramping my style...literally cramping my hands!
Anyway that is why I posted this story tonight of Jason Wright.
Good night dear friends!
Bestselling author shares theory- and his cellphone number
Several years ago I appeared on Glenn Beck’s television program to discuss my novel,The Wednesday Letters. Much to Beck’s astonishment, I chose to share my cellphone number on air with his audience. I invited them to call and share their memories on the importance of personal, handwritten letters in their lives.
I will never forget Beck leaning forward and looking straight into the camera with that patented, sneaky look in his eyes. “Please call him at two in the morning.” After the interview ended, we said goodbye and he promised me my phone would ring.
He was right.
I received thousands of calls and answered as many as I could over the span of several weeks. Many left voicemail messages and some asked for a return call. It took a while, but I honored every request.
It was a sweet experience.
I heard the most incredible stories from people whose lives had been changed by the art of the handwritten letter. I spoke to widows and widowers who clung to boxes of letters like life preservers to remember their loved ones.
I chatted with teens that cherished letters from mothers and from mothers who wept at the memory of a letter from prodigal sons and daughters.
I got to know a young woman whose best friend was on board Flight 93 on Sept. 11, 2001. A treasure trove of personal letters was the salve that helped her heal.
On these many calls we discussed writing, publishing, the books people were reading and what they liked or didn’t about my books and others in my genre.
Many of those callers became readers, but, more importantly, some of those readers became friends.
At the time, the idea of becoming so accessible was highly controversial. Church friends called me crazy, neighbors wondered if I’d lost a bet and even my own family asked what I was thinking.
But to me, the concept was obvious.
If you ask to see someone in the kitchen, servers will usually accommodate you. You might want to raise a concern or compliment the chef.
When you get your car washed, you might give a shout-out to the dedicated employee who polishes that one last pesky spot before opening your door and sending you on your way.
Perhaps you saw a show at your local high school or community theater. It would be quite natural to congratulate the cast or director and tell them what a fine job they’d done.
When visiting a public restroom you might have noticed a sign on the wall inviting you to report unclean conditions to the management. One popular chain of convenience stores even invites customers to call a member of the executive team to report unsanitary conditions at any of their nationwide locations.
The list never ends. Virtually everywhere consumers spend money offers some line of communication back to management, distributors or creators of those particular goods and services.
Why should it be any different with artists?
I once discussed this topic with a loyal reader who also happens to be a good friend. He was lamenting that another author he enjoys reading has a policy about not responding personally to email received through his website. It’s not evident whether messages sent through his online contact form are even read by him and not an assistant.
It’s a shame that any author or artist of any kind would opt to practice their craft behind a digital wall that prevents them from engaging one-on-one with consumers Have we forgotten whom we work for? I recognize that I owe my entire career to hard-working men and women who spend their treasure on something I’ve created.
I don’t work for myself; I work for my readers. The notion that artists are self-employed is a myth. Shouldn’t I be responsive to the market and offer easy lines of communication? Shouldn’t all artists welcome opinions on what they enjoy or don’t?
Of course.
So, if you’ve got something to say about one of my books or columns, I invite you to email me or pick up the phone and call. I can be reached at jwright@deseretnews.com or 540-328-0111.
I can’t promise I’ll answer every call as life, work and sheer volume may sometimes prevent it. But if you leave me a phone number and ask for a return call, you will get one.
Just don’t call me at 2 a.m.
You can read more of Jason's articles
HERE:
