Some of you will remember how I wrote a personal ad. For my perfect house.

Which is how I ended up living here at Hoppy House. Hoppy House!*

* Sing Ho for Hoppy House! Hoppy House! Ho!

It was fantastic. Especially since I’d really only written it so that I’d feel better. Not because it was actually going to work or anything.

And then …

It kind of started a thing.

People started writing personal ads. For a better job. Or a job.

And for virtual assistants. Significant others. Apartments. And various other things that you wouldn’t really expect someone to write a personal ad for.

I even posted one of them here — when my friend Kelly Parkinson from Copylicious contacted me because she was looking for another copywriter to work with.

Which got insanely great results.

So here’s what I’m thinking.

1. I want to update you on the fabulous stuff that resulted from Kelly’s experiment.
2. Then I’m going to write the tiniest of personal ads as a continuation of my own experiment.
3. And then I’m going to hope that this has planted some seeds and that you’re going to maybe be writing some tiny little letters of your own.

Even if you think this is completely stupid (and, to be honest, I kind of still do), maybe you’ll end up playing with this anyway.

Because writing is healing.

Because letting people know what you need has power.

Because I’m feeling completely inspired by my clients and readers who are writing letters to their blocks and letters to their money issues and letters to their future selves. Also, totally enjoying their weird and surprising results.

Absolute worst-case scenario? You’ll get a little more clear on what you really want.

And who knows? Maybe you’ll learn something that you didn’t know yet. And pick up some more information about where your “I have trouble asking for stuff” patterns tend to show up.

First, the long overdue update.

Actually, Kelly wrote a whole post called How I collected fresh brains for 2009, and it was fascinating and you should read it.

But she also sent me a more detailed description of what went down. And oh my gosh.

I’m over the moon about the responses I’ve gotten so far — more than 60! And every email was thoughtful and delightful.This has been the single most exciting event to ever happen to my business.

I got so much more than just several amazing copywriter-collaborators. I got introduced to a whole network of smart, creative people.

The crazy thing is, it’s not like I was following some expert template for how to hire independent contractors.

No one told me to do it this way.

But “this way” ended up being more effective than any other way I could possibly have done it.

I hope all the writers I couldn’t work with, who are wondering where to find business, will take this message home and embroider it above their desks:

When the voices in your head tell you something will be a pain in the ass, and that you won’t enjoy it, don’t listen. (In this case, “something” could be marketing yourself, hiring an assistant, trying the chicken.)

Create a way to do it you WILL enjoy. Chances are if you’re drawn to it, it will be more effective anyway.

This has been true in so many other parts of my business, so I finally applied it to this thing I was resisting.

I stopped being afraid I’d find the wrong people, and started imagining what it would be like to work with the right people. And not just the right people, but the ideal people! And that’s exactly what I got! (with a little help from you, of course.)


And then a tiny letter of my own.

Here it is. It’s to my closet. Yeah, I know.

Dear office closet,
I would dearly love to turn you into an Angel Refueling Station.

This is a completely wacky idea I got from one of my Kitchen Table participants (who said the brilliant words “Even angels need refueling stations!”). And it’s just wacky enough that I’m going to have to do it.

The idea is that you, my closet, would become a space for me to curl up in and hide when I feel depleted and down.

I really don’t know what we need to do to make this happen. I’m also feeling nervous that it will be complicated and time-consuming.

So if you, my soon-to-be-revamped office closet, have any ideas about what would help you become a happy, nourishing, replenishing sort of space for me and my duck to hide in … please speak up.

Havi & Selma


And then a hope.

I would love it if you’d write some letters of your own. If you feel like it.

Partly because it would help me feel decidedly less crazy.

But also because I’m thoroughly enjoying this process of watching things shift and change just because we’re finally throwing some love and attention their way.

And intention. Intention is big. Because even if it does nothing but promote mindfulness, then yay.

I mean, interacting consciously with yourself: strong stuff. Doing it out loud? Even better. Because then other people can actively help you get what you need.

And then planting seeds, whether within your network or in your consciousness or both … very useful.

I’m going to repeat the thing that Kelly said.

Because it was so great.

When the voices in your head tell you something will be a pain in the ass, and that you won’t enjoy it, don’t listen. (In this case, “something” could be marketing yourself, hiring an assistant, trying the chicken.)

Create a way to do it you WILL enjoy.

And then I’m going to write a bunch of letters. Or at least one.