As the dozens of you who follow this blog know, I’ve recently published my first novel, The Virtues of Scandal, which revolves around the brilliant English poet Lord Byron. Fitfully, and with little idea what I’m doing, I’ve been trying to promote the novel, but my voice is so small and the Universe is so big ….

Yesterday’s email, however, brought glad tidings. Joshua Claybourn, the well-credentialed host of the Abraham Lincoln Association’s Lincoln Log podcast, had reached me through my Stanford University email address and was inviting me to appear as a guest. The podcast, Mr. Claybourn explained, features conversations “with leading officials and other thinkers about their stories, research, and wisdom.” I practically fell off my chair. The Abraham Lincoln Association wants to discuss my wisdom? Hot damn!

Elaborating on the subjects to be discussed, Mr. Claybourn said that he would like to cover my background with history, my inspirations and motivations, and how Abraham Lincoln’s life and career relate to my work. While I have in fact read a great deal about Abraham Lincoln, who is the U.S. historical figure I admire most, I confess that I wasn’t entirely clear on how Lincoln’s life and career relate to my work in any obvious or tangible way. Still, it was a podcast, and not one of the cheesy ones produced in some guy’s bedroom. I figured I could come up with something.

But even as I began to consider how I might slip a plug for my book into a discussion of the election of 1860, an annoying little voice in the back of my head piped up. “Wait a minute,” it squeaked. “Why does the Lincoln Log want to interview you?”

Immediately resenting the annoying little voice, I nevertheless paused to consider the question. Only a week ago, in a blog post criticizing Donald Trump’s abysmal defects of character, I had quoted several of Lincoln’s observations about character to make my point. The Lincoln Log producers obviously must have seen my blog, been impressed, and decided the podcast’s listeners would benefit from my story, research and wisdom. What other possible explanation could there be?

The annoying little voice wasn’t convinced, and neither was I. I’ve seen enough Hollywood movies to know that when opportunity unexpectedly falls into your lap, you run with it and never look back. But I could not — I would not — ascend to podcast superstardom undeservedly. And certainly not via a podcast devoted to Honest Abe.

“Thank you for your email and invitation,” I wrote back to Mr. Claybourn, “[but] I’m not sure why you want to interview me … I’m not a Lincoln scholar by any means.” Dangling bait I knew wouldn’t hook this fish, I offered to speak on the topic of Lord Byron, but in the same breath conceded that that probably wasn’t the Lincoln Log’s turf. As I hit the send button, I understood that my guest appearance, and probably my one chance to share my story, research, wisdom, etc. with Lincoln devotees around the world, was about to vanish like smoke in the wind.

It didn’t take long. “My apologies,” Mr. Claybourn hastily responded, “this was intended for Condi Rice” Polite and perfectly understandable. But unlike his initial email, this one didn’t sign off with “warm regards;” it contained no closing salutation at all. Not even a period. I felt like the guy whose date got up for popcorn during the opening credits and never returned.

I may have lost my one and only chance at a guest slot on a non-cheesy podcast, but I was determined not to lose my dignity. Gathering myself, I quickly penned a reply. “No problem,” I assured Mr. Claybourn. “We get mixed up all the time.”