Mr. King:
I just completed On Writing. Let me preface this with a bit of honesty, so that we can get off on a truthful foot. It may hurt, but I think in the end you’ll appreciate my frankness. So. I don’t read your books. They scare me. Also, I have loftier ideas of myself and like to think that when I take the time to read something, it will not be the story of an evil clown who comes out of the sewers every few decades or so to snack on school children. That ain’t my cuppa tea. However, I did read On Writing at the suggestion of my good friend whose literary opinion I respect.
I’m glad I did.
I feel as though you and I have the potential to become friends, if the above paragraph doesn't insult you (it was not meant to, and I'm sorry if it did). But, know this: I swear. A lot. I know that you state that you don’t much care for swearing, that you even see it’s general usage as unintelligent and uncreative. Let me assure you, I am both intelligent and creative, I just simply employ the vernacular of sailors. Tough titties.
May I talk about a few things you wrote that rang true? First of all, I really like how you punctuated sentences of great meaning with exclamations such as Pow! and Kazaam! Being a recent coffee drinker, I know the feeling. I completely understand the urge to just yell sounds at the end of a sentence in order to convey your deep excitement. Because of my friend Zoe, I am a big fan of Bam! myself. It’s really great that we share this in common. Pa-pow!
Furthermore, I tried writing with the door closed. Your editor at the newspaper you worked at in high school told you that the first draft is written with the door closed– it’s for you and you alone. The second draft, the one that’s for the world to see, is written with the door open. Poignant advice. I got a lot of good writing done this last weekend, all the with the door closed. May I offer another bit of wisdom that I think your readers might find particularly useful? Write at a desk, with the door closed. I do not have a desk. Two years ago when I was a senior in college I had the most beautiful desk ever. An old wooden clunker of a thing, painted royal blue with white ceramic knobs on the drawers. But I sold it, along with all my other furniture and half of my wardrobe, at a garage sale for thirty dollars in a fit of impulsiveness when I thought I was going to move to New York. I did not end up moving to the Big Apple, and then had no clothes and no furniture. Not my brightest decision. Perhaps also tell your readers to be absolutely sure when they think they are moving across the country and give up all their worldly possessions. Anyways, back to the point at hand. I don’t have a desk. I currently write sitting on a stool pilfered from the kitchen, hunched at a white metal ironing board with wobbly legs. It gets the job done, sure, but I feel like with a proper desk I could really get going on my magnum opus. Just a thought.
Thirdly, I was greatful for your perspective that a story should begin with a situation, not a plot outline. Quite freeing, to see a writer say such a thing. So many teachers in the past have always stressed the importance of a proper outline, storyboards and the like. How liberating to hear you say different. I can’t think when I’m caged inside a little writer’s box who walls are made up of brainstorm bubbles. I much prefer to sit down at my ironing board, a vague idea of a character or a memory of mine in my head, and go from there. Start with a situation, you counselled, and let the story write itself. And I just want to let you know that I’m on board with that train of thought. The other night at dinner I tried telling my date that I was rooting for my male character to fall in love with someone else, because the girl he loved was a bit of a bitch who wasn’t good enough for him. My date was puzzled, laughed, and noted how strange it was that I was rooting for someone I had complete and total control over. If I so wanted him to fall in love with someone else, could I not just write it that way? Sorry, that’s not how it goes. The story writes itself, I’m just the transcriber.
There are many more things I felt a kinship with you over. I, too, always have a book with me, and I, too, read them at any opportune moment. You say you like doctor’s offices best for a quick read? Maybe in line at the movie theater? I take myself out to nice dinners and read there. I really like to read on my morning and afternoon bus commutes. I, also like you, greatly enjoy language and varied vocabulary. I think that if we were to ever get together, we could post up and just lob our favorite words back and forth to each other. We could carry on witty banter about people who critique writing with annoyingly vague summations.
I feel like we have things to offer another. You, the wisdom and advice from being in the business for so long. Me, the cynicism of jaded youth that is made endearing by the faint (really faint) glimmer of optimism that I still hold, even if it is buried under layers of swear words and alcohol binges. Don’t worry, it’s more amusing than sad.
That’s all I have to say for now. I hope this letter finds you in good health. I’ll be posting and re-posting this letter on the message board until I get a response.
Cheers,
Allie Judy
P.S. When I was six, my older sister and I were playing in the woods behind our house. I had to pee. She instructed me to go behind a tree and use some leaves as toilet paper, pointing at a clump of foliage. I did. And the next day I woke up with poison oak all over (down there). Sound familiar? Yep, we’re non-romantic soulmates, you and I. Write soon!
P.P.S. I just re-read this letter. The overall tone is sarcastic. It was not meant to be. I actually and truly do want to be your pen pal and I really am on board with all you had to had to say in On Writing. Alright, glad we cleared that up.





Bookmarks