An ode to Eric Jones
When junkmail becomes encouragement
Every day, sometimes as often as three times a day, I get an email from Eric Jones through the contact form on my website.
My name’s Eric and for just a second, imagine this:
- Someone does a search and ends up at Allielarkinwrites.
- They hang out for a moment to check it out. I’m interested… but… maybe…
- And then they click the back button and check out the other search results instead.
- Bottom line – you got an eyeball, but nothing else.
- They’re gone.
This isn’t really your fault – it happens a lot – studies show 7 out of 10 visitors to any site leave without leaving a trace.
But you can fix that.
At first, and for a long time, what I really wanted was to fix the problem of Eric emailing me three times a day — which isn’t so simple as blocking his email address, because for some reason Eric, or his bot, takes the time to fill out the contact form on my website every single time he wants to deliver this message to me.
And for a while, I actively tried to figure out ways to make it stop. But several months in I started to find it funny. Then I started to find a strange solace in the process of getting a notification about an email, thinking it could be something important/life changing/harrowing, only to realize it was just Eric Jones in my in-box again.
In this world where I feel responsible for so many things I cannot control, Eric’s words have become a pillar of comfort. A vote of encouragement. And by filling out the contact form on my website, Eric Jones has added himself to my newsletter mailing list, so now he gets emails from me about my new book, which I believe makes us pen pals. I like to think he’s proud of me. But I was basically raised to have Stockholm Syndrome, so maybe I’m just projecting feelings on to Eric Jones. Maybe, despite his constant contact, he doesn’t love me like the sister he never had but always wanted. Maybe this affection for my spammer isn’t healthy.
It’s not my fault, friends.
It’s not.
I can fix that.
Eric can help me.




Everything you touch ends up sweeter, like you've dipped it in sugar. I love your take on this. (My go-to response to spammers and phishers is to suggest they eat a bag of dicks.)
Ah, Eric and his steady correspondence. When I had my website, it was Stephanie -- steady Stephanie. Maybe Eric knows her?