I’m not exactly sure when I first read Amanda Palmer’s book,The Art of Asking: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help, but it was likely during the winter of 2015.

I blogged about the book in the spring of 2015 when I was delighted to come across a street performer dressed as a bride on the streets of Paris a few days before I headed out to walk the Camino de Santiago.

I re-read it about once a year.

And by “read” I actually mean listen, because I prefer the audiobook to the physical one.

Amanda’s voice infuses the text with warmth and humour and she periodically breaks into song. Plus her Neil Gaiman impression is delightful.

I re-listen to the book about once a year because I think it’s one of the best books on pastoral ministry I’ve ever read.

If you know anything about Amanda that may surprise you, it might surprise her even, but that doesn’t make it any less accurate.

In the book, she talks about Henry David Thoreau and the myth of the independent artist.

You may, like me, be most familiar with Thoreau’s work because it’s quoted in the film Dead Poet’s Society. He’s Mr. “live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”

He’s also famous for writing about his choice to withdraw from society and live alone on the banks of Walden Pond.

But do you know the truth?

He wasn’t all that independent.

He borrowed the land from a rich neighbour. His friends had him over for dinner regularly and the women in his life delivered freshly baked goods every Sunday.

His mother and his sister brought him food every Sunday, including freshly baked doughnuts.

Doughnuts.

Mr. “I went to the woods to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life…” may have written those worlds while munching on a freshly baked doughnut.  A doughnut he didn’t make or even leave his desk to go buy.  It was delivered right to him.

Amanda then makes a strong and impassioned case that we should all learn to take the doughnuts.

People want to help, she argues. So learn to ask.  And learn to accept help when it’s offered.

Take the doughnut.

As I am writing this I am also sitting next to a body of water but I’m no more independent than Thoreau.

The cabin belongs to friends, and my mom delivered a care package full of food to my home just before I left to come here.  (No doughnuts, but there was a package labelled “spinach brownies.” If you think I am funny, you should meet my mom. She’s hilarious.)

I took the help that was offered.  It’s not easy, but I’m learning.

You may not know it, but you actually have a doughnut and I’m asking you to share it with me.

I have written 1.23 books, neither of which are published. You can read more about the first book here.

People who know about these things say that they’re good. Publishable. Worth reading.

But in the modern publishing world, that’s not enough.  Publishers also need to know that there is a critical mass of people who want to buy a book before they will be willing to publish that book.

And here’s where you come in.

I need to build the biggest list of potential readers that I possibly can.

You can be one of those readers.

I’m asking you to go to my website and sign up for my email list.

You’ll get periodic updates and I’ll never share your information with anyone.

This is the single more effective way to support my work.   It’s not just any doughnut, it’s a doughnut with sprinkles on top.

And I’m asking you to share it with me.

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