Prompt #8

To Whom it May Concern

Good morning, afternoon, dusk, evening, night, dawn—whatever it is, wherever you are.

Photo by Flavio Amiel on Unsplash

We are already at WEEK EIGHT around here.

That’s crazy! We are 15% of the way through this Year of Prompts, and anyone who’s been playing around since the beginning now has at least EIGHT stories for their “Stories I Wrote All By Myself” folder. That’s fantastic. I bow to you all. Let’s keep going.

(If you’ve just joined us, all the prompts are listed in order in my Archive—go ahead and give them a try.)

A big THANK YOU for all of the lovely camaraderie in the Comments. You are good people! Thank you for being so kind to one another and for being supportive of all this new work. I love reading everything that gets posted. Just a real treat to be here with you all.

Okay, let’s get to it.

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This week, we’re going to write a story in the form of a letter.

Yes, another writing constraint—I love them! They provide a bit of structure, take some of the pressure off of the blank page, and help to shove a writer right into the creation of a story. Instead of thinking, “oh god, what am I going to write????—you think, “hey, this is sort of like playing a game. No big deal. I can do this.” Well, that’s how they work for me, anyway.

Reminder: WE ARE NOT TRYING TO WRITE MASTERPIECES. We are just doing the prompts. Seeing where they take us. Later, we can always revise anything that we’ve written if we care to do so. Eventually, maybe you WILL have written a masterpiece. (Or maybe you did already.) But that’s not our point here. Our point is words on the page. Keep going. See what happens.

And learn what a story is.

Hopefully, over the course of this year, you will grok stories. You will know them and they will know you. You’ll stop wondering if you’ve written one or not. You’ll just get it. That’s what practice does to a person. Write enough little stories and all the knowledge that seeps into your brain starts to accumulate—there for you to draw from, your own little well. And you can write without thinking, drawing from that well as needed. You can just write.

So. A letter.

Many writers have written stories or novels in the form of a letter. Our own George Saunders used the letter form in his stories “Love Letter,” and “I CAN SPEAK” (there should be a trademark sign at the end of SPEAK, but I don’t know how to produce one on my computer), and in his book Fox 8.  A few novels using the form include The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, 84 Charing Cross Road, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I’m sure you can come up with plenty more. The letter format is not the same as the diary format, by the way. In a letter, the words are directed at a particular someone (or someones). It’s directed to an Other, not to one’s self.

And there is a reason the letter is written. A reason the letter is being written now as opposed to any other time. Some of the reasons may be:

to complain

to profess love

to thank someone

to catch people up at Xmas time

to give instructions

to ask for instructions

to catch up with an old friend

to give a recommendation

to fire someone

to bribe someone

to give advice

to say something to a child

to say something to a parent

to say something to an ex

to say something to the President

Do I need to keep going? I don’t think so. But I hope that list sparked something for you.

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So how do you write a story in the form of a letter? Here’s an example of the form, written by the incomparable Lydia Davis. Take a look and then come on back:

https://www.thewhitereview.org/poetry/letter-to-a-frozen-peas-manufacturer/

What do you think? Was that a short story? (There are no correct answers here.)

As you know already, a conventional story can be broken down into its essential parts. Depending on whom you ask, the number of essential parts may differ. For instance, Beginning, Middle and End—three parts. For our purposes here today, I’m going to use the idea of four parts that make up your basic story:

1.     An inciting incident

2.     Rising Action

3.     Climax

4.     Resolution

In other weeks here, we’ve talked about stories (usually flash fictions) that may leave out some of these parts—instead of being spelled out, they are merely implied. This forces a bit of work on the reader’s part to tease out a story’s meaning. I’m going to try to tease out the Lydia Davis story right here for your reading pleasure (or displeasure, there’s no real way for me to know). Let’s see which of the conventional story elements exist on the page and which are absent and perhaps implied:

1.     Inciting Incident: In Lydia Davis’ letter to the pea manufacturer, the inciting incident has already happened: the letter writer has bought a bag of peas, looked at the design on the package, and felt something. Before the peas were purchased, there was no story—no feeling on the part of the writer. But now—here comes the bag of peas, and we are off. The inciting incident was not depicted, but implied.

2.     Rising Action: As the story develops, the “action” of the story keeps chugging along, as the letter writer has a lot to say. This letter writer is laying out their argument, piece by piece, so that it all adds up to a “win.” To me, yes, there is a form of rising action on the page. (It’s also so hilarious that we begin the story thinking the letter writer is going to complain about the peas themselves. But no! They love the peas! It’s the packaging that’s stuck in their craw.)

3.     Climax: To me, the climax comes when the letter writer’s argument reaches its apex and the declaration we have been waiting for can be made: “We enjoy your peas and do not wish your business to suffer.” I find this sentence so funny. What kind of a life does this letter writer live? This is what they give their time to? Writing a letter to a pea manufacturer in hopes of keeping them in business? What a funny little person this is, wanting so desperately to make a difference in the world—and this is what they choose. Forget world peace; fix your packaging.

4.     Resolution: Nope. There is none depicted. Just time for us all to think about this funny little story and the person who wrote the letter. Aren’t you imagining them now? The brains of some people! The little itches that must be scratched! And so the resolution is implied. We sit back and ponder what happens after this letter is written. Does the letter writer have a drink and relax? Or is there another letter of complaint to write?

I love the way that at first glance, this little story seems to be a fluff piece, without a whole lot of meaning behind it. Just a joke. But then you look a little closer and suddenly the humanity appears. I feel for this letter writer. I really do. Something tells me there are lonely people like this on my very block, and yet I do not know them. I need to be a better person, I think. That’s where this story takes me, anyway.

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I’m guessing you’re ready for this week’s prompt:

Write a story in the form of a letter to someone. Anyone. A store manager. A grandma. An ex-husband or ex-wife. A stranger. You name it!

Your letter can be any length, but for the purposes of our Comments section, try to keep your letter short and sweet. 400 words max.

See you in the comments. And next Monday!