When the dean of your school–a woman so erudite she pens tomes on Homer just for fun–writes you a fan letter, you may be excused for feeling a wee bit giddy.

I kvelled. I plotzed. I had myself a verklempt moment or two.

You gotta understand: this is a woman so venerable she can quote Kant, Hegel, and Aristotle at will, in their original languages, and probably has the ghost of Kierkegaard on speed dial. And she took the time to read my little book, and write me a hand-written note (in fountain pen, with the final t’s left uncrossed, just like my mom used to do), praising my novel. She loves it. She’s rooting for Merry and the other characters. She thinks it’s goodhearted (but not sappy) and that the writing is wonderful.

Wow.

See, St. John’s College isn’t exactly known as the alma mater of romance novelists, and I’ve always felt a little embarrassed taking my classics degree and writing about fluffy animals and hunky heroes… but today I’m standing proud. Like, really proud.

So glad I went to Homecoming this year. So honored to do what I do.