First Fan Mail
Fan mail received. First ever.
'Your book changed my life.'
Hands trembling. Opened envelope.
50% off coupon for Domino's.
Framed it anyway.
The unexplainable next door: quiet stories on the edge of reality
Nothing screams or jumps out of the dark here — the world just shows its seams for a second. Quiet mystic stories: strange fellow travelers, prophetic dreams, doors that were not there yesterday.
Fan mail received. First ever.
'Your book changed my life.'
Hands trembling. Opened envelope.
50% off coupon for Domino's.
Framed it anyway.
Wrote memoir. Publisher: 'Your life isn't interesting enough.'
Became a hitman. Now it's interesting.
Kidding. Just a barista. But I think about it. While making your latte.
Wrote plot twist. Wife guessed it. Rewrote twist. Wife guessed it again. Third twist.
Wife: "It's the butler, isn't it?"
There's no butler in my book.
Added butler.
He did it.
Cat sat on keyboard. Gibberish paragraph. Left it in.
Best reviews I've ever gotten.
"Experimental prose!" "Bold stylistic choice!" "Innovative narrative structure!"
Cat now has an agent. I don't.
Book signing. Line of three people.
Fan approaches. Trembling with excitement.
"I loved the death scene!"
"Thank you. Which one?"
"Chapter 12. When Sarah—"
"Nobody dies in my book."
Fan's smile: frozen.
"Sarah doesn't die?"
"Sarah doesn't exist."
Fan clutches a different book. Not mine. Same cover.
Almost same cover.
Beta reader: "Who's Kevin?"
Me: "Who's Kevin?"
*searches manuscript*
Page 47. He just appears. Introduces himself. Has three scenes.
I have no memory of writing Kevin.
Kevin has a backstory now.
Bookmark at page 3.
For six months.
Book is mine.
I wrote it.
Anton Chekhov said if there's a gun in act one, it must fire in act three.
My gun: introduced page 1. Never mentioned again.
Pure suspense. Reader still waiting. Book ended in 1987.
Chapter ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 2 ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 3 ending: cliffhanger.
Chapter 47: protagonist still falling.
I forgot to catch him.
Publisher meeting. 'Your book needs more conflict.'
'It's a cookbook.'
'The eggs should suffer.'
Writing retreat roommate also writes. 5am: typing. Noon: typing. Midnight: typing. Me: zero words. Roommate: 47,000 words. Checked roommate's screen. Same sentence. For three days. Copying it.
Fan mail received. First ever. 'Your book changed my life.' Hands trembling. Opened envelope. 50% off coupon for Domino's. Framed it anyway.
Wrote memoir. Publisher: 'Your life isn't interesting enough.' Became a hitman. Now it's interesting. Kidding. Just a barista. But I think about it. While making your latte.
My protagonist discovers ancient secret on page 47. I don't remember writing page 47. Checked draft. Page 47 blank. Checked published book. Page 47 filled. Different handwriting.
Wrote plot twist. Wife guessed it. Rewrote twist. Wife guessed it again. Third twist. Wife: "It's the butler, isn't it?" There's no butler in my book. Added butler. He did it.
Cat sat on keyboard. Gibberish paragraph. Left it in. Best reviews I've ever gotten. "Experimental prose!" "Bold stylistic choice!" "Innovative narrative structure!" Cat now has an agent. I don't.
Book signing. Line of three people. Fan approaches. Trembling with excitement. "I loved the death scene!" "Thank you. Which one?" "Chapter 12. When Sarah—" "Nobody dies in my book." Fan's smile: frozen. "Sarah doesn't die?" "Sarah doesn't exist." Fan clutches a different book. Not mine. Same cover. Almost same cover.
Beta reader: "Who's Kevin?" Me: "Who's Kevin?" *searches manuscript* Page 47. He just appears. Introduces himself. Has three scenes. I have no memory of writing Kevin. Kevin has a backstory now.
Anton Chekhov said if there's a gun in act one, it must fire in act three. My gun: introduced page 1. Never mentioned again. Pure suspense. Reader still waiting. Book ended in 1987.
Chapter ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 2 ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 3 ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 47: protagonist still falling. I forgot to catch him.
Publisher meeting. 'Your book needs more conflict.' 'It's a cookbook.' 'The eggs should suffer.'
Writing retreat roommate also writes. 5am: typing. Noon: typing. Midnight: typing. Me: zero words. Roommate: 47,000 words. Checked roommate's screen. Same sentence. For three days. Copying it.
Nothing to read? Create your own book and read it! Like I do.
Create a book"You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you." — Ray Bradbury
Loading comments...