Prompt #65
Dear You
Hello, everybody!
From the archive (edited):
Dear Wonderful Community of What Now-ers,
It’s letter day!
Many writers have written stories or novels in the form of a letter. Our own George Saunders chose this shape for his story “Love Letter,” which you can read HERE. He used it again for his story “I CAN SPEAK™” found HERE. (You should be able to access these stories unless you have used up your monthly allotment of freebies from The New Yorker.) George loved this form so much, he also used it for his short book Fox 8.
But other people have used this form as well! There’s The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, 84 Charing Cross Road, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. You can probably think of more.
So how do you write a story in the shape of a letter? As always, you want to be sure that something happens! There has to be a reason for the letter. You’ll need to give us a sense of urgency. What’s fun with the letter format is that you’ll also give a reader a strong sense of your letter writer’s personality.
Here’s an example of a very short story by the incomparable Lydia Davis: LINK. Take a look—you may not think this is a short story at all, and that’s okay. Her story is a flash fiction, and in writing teeny stories like this, some of the usual elements we expect to see in a story aren’t always on the page, but are only implied.
Here’s a quick analysis I did of Davis’ story using the basic story conventions of inciting incident, rising action, climax and resolution.
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.
Okay, time for the prompt!
TODAY’S PROMPT
Write a story in the shape of a letter. Your letter can be to anyone or anything you choose. God, your boss, your new baby, that obnoxious neighbor…
Remember that the letter should have a sense of urgency. There’s a reason the letter is being written NOW as opposed to tomorrow or next week.
Though I’m asking you to write a letter, you don’t have to start with “Dear John,” or some such. You can just start right in, writing to a particular “you.” A person, your tennis elbow, the terrible dinner you made last night, the universe!
You can write a letter to yourself! (It may sound like a diary or journal entry.)
You can also write something closer to a “note.” The sort of thing a person might leave on the table when departing. “Went to buy milk. Not sure if I’ll be back…”
Think of the William Carlos Williams poem about the plums that begins “This is just to say….” Go ahead and use that if you want—begin your note/letter/missive with the words “This is just to say….” Or “I just wanted to let you know….” Or something similar.
Remember that you need a reason to be writing your letter. Some possible reasons may include:
to complain
to profess love
to thank someone
to give instructions
to ask for instructions
to catch up with an old friend, or friends—such as a yearly holiday letter
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
That’s it. As always, 400 words max. to post in the Comments.
[deleted]
Dear Harvi ( Harv, Harvey, Har Har) ,
Our mother ( she, they, them, her, themselves) died last night. Peacefully in her (their) sleep. That’s what this letter is about ( us, themselves.) She died herself, and I’ve (me, he) have read the will and you’re ( you, they) are not in it. I’m not sure why. It looks like Mom, ( mother, other) forgot you. She said they, them, don’t deserve it ( what? pray?) she, ( her) didn’t say. So, Harvey, my man, ( he, ho hum) Gosh. I ( meself) don’t know what to say, hey. I’m so sorreee cause I know what this means for thee. And for me. Poor Mom’s passed, rotting under grass. But my good bud, ( chap, bro, pal ) We ( they, us, them, ahem, ) are above ground, fully found, and looky look at it this way, we got this ( it, that, what, these, sneeze). Really. Sorreeo, bro, the bottle she ( the mom, mother, udder,) left’s almost done, and so goes the fun. But I’ll see you at the funeral ( fun, real, funereal, big deal) anyway, soon. I’ll ( me, mes ) write and let you know.