Okay, Dear Reader. I'm ready.
For you to dump on me.
Give me your unvarnished opinions. In 2015, I want my words and examples to compel people to Make a Memory of their own. I've included working text and examples below. Is it confusing? Does it yield a Make a Memory idea or several? Is it unclear? Stupid? Compelling?
Dump on me. I want people to start inviting people to Make a Memory on January 2, 2015.
A Tuesday post!! From Moi! To persecute your inbox and give you another thing you don't have time to read!!!!! Say it isn't so!!!!!!!
Bwahahahahaha. (To quote Lou Mello.)
I owe you an apology. You, Dear Reader. Not Lou Mello.
Do you like to get the old fashioned, luddite version of mail?
Fossil-fuel burning. Ink and paper. Lick and stick.
I confess to ardent worship of the antiquated practice of letter writing. It's one reason I send handwritten postcards to numerous children on every trip. Why I mailed over 100 letters in advance of the release of my novel. Why the proprietress of the local stationery shop turns cartwheels every time I darken the door.
Lately, though, I've been thinking about letter writing for another reason.
I'm sick of being online.
I'm not supposed to talk about my brother. No ranting about him to my husband. No skewering him with my friends. Especially no writing about him in public. Most of you didn't even know I had a brother, did you? That's how well I've followed an old directive.
Well. Screw that. Here's to making up for lost time.
Does your family show affection in bizarre ways? My dead grandmother showed her adoration by cracking my toes, usually when I napped on the sofa or was stupid enough to leave a foot on top of the sheet. One of my aunts whispered "I love you" by hacking into my self-esteem, because she didn't want me to become cocky, my ego unmanageable.