So, I’m putting together a newsletter. That is, a paper newsletter, to send to friends, family, fans, and readers–Sorry, I couldn’t think of a synonym for readers that began with F–since I now have a solid list of people who would (probably) like to hear from me occasionally. The idea is to include a short-short story, a book blurb or review, a writing tip, maybe a guest article or interview, kicking off each quarterly issue with a seasonally relevant “letter from the editor” (that’s me). My first, aborted attempt turned into this blog post. Aborted, because too heavy, too serious. But look at the bright side: at least I know what I want.

I had a notion to start a newsletter back in October 2008. I rambled on for four full pages about news media, advertising, politics, terrorism, and how we’d all live longer if we’d just relax. At the time, it seemed appropriate to the Halloween season. In retrospect, I still agree with everything I wrote, but why did I have to be so boring about it?

Since then, I’ve authored two more books, started a third, and published uncounted posts and stories online. The newsletter idea remained, but why bother? Whenever I thought about it, I concluded that I really had no idea who I even wanted to be as a writer, and I couldn’t for the life of me imagine why anyone on God’s Earth would possibly care.

Then it hit me.

Alan Baxter posted this list last week, and it’s still making the rounds.

“And before anyone accuses me,” Alan writes, “of being all jaded and defeatist, I prefer to look at it as arming myself with the truth in order to beat that f***er down and prove every point on this list wrong.”

He’s talking about superstar authors, who “prove every single one of these points wrong.” They’re the exceptions that prove the rule.

Or are they?