They say I have to put a professional picture of me on this page. Do you think this will do? It’s the only professional picture of me I’ve ever had, and I got it only because the photography company did ’em free, or as near as makes no difference, at a Romance Writers of America conference a few decades — er —years ago.

Oh, you say They also say it has to be a recent photo? That is, it has to look like me? As in look like me now? Why? I used this very photo on a romance book review column I wrote back in the dusty corridors of time for the Toronto Star, Canada’s biggest newspaper. When the picture and column first appeared, a dozen people in the office walked past my desk and asked: “Alison, is that you?”

It was right up there with what my new mother-in-law said when she saw me for the first time on our wedding day, in the flowing, clingy, Roman-toga style dress I had sewed myself.

“Alison,” she said, “you look nice.”

She never would have thought so if she’d known I made my own haute couture. Or maybe she was so shocked she didn’t care anyway.

Regardless, the point is that it’s very much like me to look not like me. Just to keep everybody happy, though, I’ll put a picture at the end of this hello message that half obeys the rules, which is also very much like me. Especially when it comes to grammar. (I do love my sentence fragments.)

My clients haven’t seemed to mind. I’ve edited more than fifty independently published books, including some by New York and USA Today bestsellers.

I hold an honorary, self-bestowed PhD in choosing credit cards that pay the best cash refunds. My days of writing a Penny Pincher’s column help with that, as did covering consumer affairs news at the Star and charging in as a consumer advocate when I ran an action-line-type column called Star Probe.

I’ve been labouring mightily to beat writer’s block since I was around twelve, and that job is maybe half done. I’m happy. I can now guarantee I will publish some of my books before the next century rolls around.

Let’s see, what else am I supposed to say here? Oh, yeah, everybody else talks about the dust bunnies under the bed, which would apparently convey how busy I am writing the next novel for you. I can’t say that, though, because it wouldn’t be true. My dust bunnies have long since taken over the house and are working on my next-door neighbor’s.