The fact that six people pooled money for this opportunity proves two things: The world is full of people seeking penance; what people will do for charity knows no bounds.

The "Dinner With a Writer" fund-raiser benefited the Denver Women's Press Club, which, like any organization involved with the press these days, needs some charity.

"Someone paid for you to make them dinner?" my oldest daughter asks. It's a fair question.

"And for my company," I say.

"We have to put up with you and your cooking all the time," the youngest says.

"It's for a good cause," I say.

"A Pepto-Bismol benefit?" wonders the oldest.

"We'd better serve a lot of wine," is all Dan can say.

True. Just because I can write - and some might argue about that - doesn't mean I can cook. My dinner was supposed to have a theme. Other writers were hosting a Hawaiian Luau and an Omaha Steak night. I figured, as long as I was going to flop, I might as well flop spectacularly, and settled on a French Soirée, which I called A Night in Provence. I'd serve French champagnes and cheeses, zucchini soup, coq au vin, and chocolate mousse cake. The first year, the metal cake tray that the mousse cake sat on slid right off the tiered crystal cake plate and landed on the floor, whipped-cream side down. I had to serve it in bowls. This year, I glue-gunned the cake tray to the cake plate. That's called learning.

Bravo! said Sandy Coughlin, the blogger behind reluctantentertainer.com (just that name makes me like her) when I told her of my night. Coughlin's mission is to get women out of their comfort zones and to entertain in their homes more. She gives her highest marks to people who open their homes to new friends. Two for me!

"So many women are caught up in the idea that their houses have to be just so before they can have people over," she said. As a result, they're lonely and missing out on connections.

I'm not afraid that my house isn't perfect. It's not. Or that my cooking will fall short. It will. I worry that the dogs will forget their manners - OK, what manners - and do something embarrassing. Or that just as the refined guests are getting seated, a pack of tattooed, pierced Harley riders will show up at the door and demand my daughters.

"Women need to get over their hang-ups," Coughlin says. "The food just isn't that important. Joy happens when we open our homes, make new friends, and relax. I want people to be gracious without being frazzled."

Fortunately, A Night in Provence wasn't about the food. (If anyone knows how to make coq au vin so the chicken doesn't turn the color of a bad bruise, I'd like to hear from you.) It was, at least for me, about the sparkling conversation with six fascinating women. Dan, it turned out, was so engaging that the guests asked if they could hire him out at future functions. (No one, incidentally, asked if I would cook for future functions.)

"So what's stopping us from opening our homes more?" I asked the Reluctant Entertainer.

"Hostess fear and burnout," she said, and offered these tips to get over both:

Forget perfection. That's a sure path to hospitality burnout. "If I surveyed the friends I've had over," said Coughlin, "most would not remember what I served, how badly my kitchen needed a remodel, the decorations in my home, or what went wrong."

Don't do it all. Delegate. If you have one guest bringing a salad and another bringing dessert, all you have to worry about is the appetizer and entree.

Don't ask for trouble. If a guest has an allergy, it's up to him to tell you. Otherwise, don't make anything out of the ordinary. "I quit asking about special diets," she said. "Picky people burn out your hospitality."

Celebrate the flaws. When the courses aren't timed right, or the cake falls, or you forget to replace the empty roll of toilet paper, it's a blessing. Your guests will feel that much more comfortable having you to their place. Make everything perfect, and you'll never get invited anywhere.

Don't wait till the decorating is done. Many people postpone entertaining until the pool is finished or the new sofas have arrived. Phooey, says Coughlin, who bought a fixer-upper home four years ago and had big plans to redo the tired kitchen. She still has those plans, but that hasn't kept her from making yummy meals for incredible friends. "Hospitality is not about having the best or newest or most beautiful. It's about sharing your heart and home with others and building relationships."

Don't get in a friend rut. If you've been having the same people over, change up the group. Discovering new people is one of entertaining's great joys.

Relax. Guests are looking for comfort and connection, not a showcase home. Let them find pleasure with you as you are. Or, well, almost.