One of the first things I do each morning is check my email. Usually it happens before I even roll out of bed. Is that healthy? Probably not. But I’m hooked on staying connected, so it is what it is. Typically, not much has happened in my email world over night. I mean, who all emails people at midnight? So it’s more of a quick check to see if all is right with the world.
As an author, perhaps some of you are under the mistaken assumption that I just get flooded with fan mail every day. Pages upon pages of people lauding my praises. Or maybe you think I just field complaints from the hordes of readers who are upset that I did X in a book when I really should have done Y.
The truth, I’m sad to report, is much simpler. I almost never get contacted about my writing. Ever. I will occasionally get a nice message from a reader or a teacher, and I’ve gotten some great thank you notes from classes I’ve done in-person or Zoom visits with. Those are always lovely. But despite the fact that my email is right here on my webpage, ready for anyone to see, I pretty much never get any correspondence through it.
Until this morning. When I got some good news/bad news first thing when I woke up.
The good news? I proved to myself once again that people can, indeed, write to me when they want to. A stranger reached out to contact me. Huzzah!
The bad news? It was in defense of Grape Nuts.
That’s right, folks. I’ve spent countless hours working on my craft as an author, and approximately 20 minutes of my life poking fun at Grape Nuts over the years, and I’ve had more emails about Grape Nuts in the past five years than I’ve had about my writing.
Maybe I really should start writing fiction about Grape Nuts. Maybe I’ll make Grape Nuts the main villain in my next book. Or it could just be the method of murder. Death by Grape Nuts would make a fantastic title, wouldn’t it? I wonder if I’d get sued for trademark infringement . . .
Really, when I made my pithy little post about the horrors of that “cereal” known as Grape Nuts, I didn’t know what a devoted legion of followers that excuse-for-a-pleasant-breakfast actually had. And reading it over again now, I have to admit that I’m still inordinately proud of the post. If I have to pick a hill to die on when it comes to the debate over morning repasts, I will gladly pick up my sword and go lay siege at the gates of Grape Nut fandom.
Any. Day. Of the Week.
I will not be silenced. I will not be cowed. I will stand boldly, nobly, and independent to declare to the world that most of its current troubles can likely be traced directly to the consumption of Grape Nuts. (Or at the bare minimum, that Grape Nuts are exacerbating the current troubles. I mean, name one thing that doesn’t automatically become worse if you’re eating Grape Nuts. Being sick is bad. Being sick and eating Grape Nuts? Worse. Riding a roller coaster is fun. Riding a roller coaster and eating Grape Nuts? Not nearly as pleasurable. This is basic logic, people.)
And let’s face it. Usually my Grape Nuts posts perform so much better than my other blog topics. Maybe I really need to have a nemesis, and I found mine sort of by accident.
Evil, thy name is Grape Nuts.
(The good news is that, despite its throngs of adorers, Grape Nuts is not sentient. (We believe. Scientists are still investigating a few bowls that were poured back in the early 1900s. They haven’t been finished yet (naturally), and the addition of milk to the solution might have had some strange side effects.) And as a non-sentient object, Grape Nuts (most likely) doesn’t mind my personal vendetta against it. Grape Nuts don’t care. They’re like the honey badger of the processed food world. And so, while it is true (as the email I received this morning pointed out) that my original post was “mean,” “nasty,” and “disparaging” to Grape Nuts, I’m not overly concerned about its feelings . . .)
If making fun of Grape Nuts is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
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