Apparently, I wrote a book

A few days ago, I received one of the nicest emails anyone has ever sent me about my book.

There was just one problem.

I haven’t written a book.

The email came from someone who had recently finished Performance Psychology for Dancers. He wrote several thoughtful paragraphs about what he appreciated, then asked a question about how I’d approached writing it.

I knew immediately what had happened.

There’s another Erin Sanchez—one who actually does work in the dance world—and thanks to our shared name, I’ve been mistaken for her before (hello, PR pitches in my inbox).

At this point, I’m familiar enough with her work that I knew exactly where this particular fan mail was supposed to go.

Still, it’s not every day someone sends you a glowing review of a book you didn’t write, so I had a bit of fun with it.

I replied, “I enjoyed reading these kind words, so I want to make sure they reach the right Erin Sanchez.”

Then I pointed him to the correct Erin and signed off:

“Erin (the other one 🙂)”

I figured that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

My reply apparently piqued his curiosity, and soon an email that began as a case of mistaken identity had turned into a conversation about writing.

We’ve been corresponding for a few days now about the kind of writing I do, the book I’d like to write someday, and what inspired me to write in the first place. He’s been wonderfully encouraging about my work.

As of this morning, I owe him another reply. Does this make us pen pals?

The whole thing has been delightfully random, and now it’s led to this newsletter.

We tend to think the stories worth telling center on something significant. A big trip. A major achievement. An important milestone.

Had you asked me a few days ago whether I’d ever write about this email mix-up, I doubt I would have said yes.

Then the conversation kept going and took on a life of its own.

I still haven’t written a book.

But thanks to someone who thought I had, I’ve got one more story in my back pocket.

Erin