I wish I could be friends with everyone that wants to be friends with me. I wish I could email you back and forth, wish we could have inside jokes, wish I could respond to every comment here, and on twitter, and on facebook, and every other way to contact me.
I wish I could read all of your blogs, and comment, and know what is going on in your lives.
I wish I could help every aspiring author who wants my help, give them personalized advice, do what I could to comfort and inspire and help along.
But frankly? There are a lot of you. And there is one of me. And outside of the internet I have this whole life thing, with a husband and kids and friends and happiness and heartache. There is an entire world you are not part of or privy to. Because in the end, I don't know you, and you don't know me.
I'm sorry that we don't know each other, and I'm sorry that I don't have the time or energy (emotionally and physically) to build more relationships. I hope this blog is enough. I hope you enjoy it, and that it makes you smile. I wish I could do more. But I hope you understand why I (and so many other authors) can't. I hope you view our shortcomings with compassion and kindness. I hope you don't take offense where offense is never, ever intended. We're doing the best we can. Some of us are more accessible than others. But we all try to give back in the ways that we can, and we all appreciate the reading and writing community in ways you'll never know.
So, I lied. I can be your friend. I am. You're mine, too. It's just a weird kind of friendship, but we're okay with that, right? Weird is wonderful.