I took a six-month break from working on my half-finished novel,loosely based on the death of my former boyfriend, Simon, and myself, his then-girlfriend who in the novel he asked to assist him to die with dignity from cancer.
Few people in real life have the courage to do this. They prefer to suffer. And oh how he suffered in real life. No excuse. I have given my children permission to euthanize me. Dr. Weiss, who is not my doctor, has said death and its prelude is usually painful. I choose not to suffer.
I'd been writing numerous letters asking for end-of-year donations to our support group, as well as thank-you letters, from those people kind enough to give (the record was one for $1,000 - I actually went out an spent money on Manhattan Bagel for a bagel with scallion cheese cheese, cuz I knew a nice chunk was coming our way).
All these letters, maybe 20, got my creative juices swirling. I write amazing letters. I'd asked the dude at the Doylestown Wellness Center if I could teach a letterwriting class but he said no due to litigious reasons. I have no idea what he was talking about.
The letter form is succinct. One page. One and a half at the most. It's like a sonnet. The format is already there for you. I jot a few notes on what I wanna cover in each of my very personal letters. I like letterwriting cuz I use my brain. It's amazing b/c when I tap it, it never fails me.
My letters are as much about the other person as they are about New Directions. I have a knack of making people feel good about themselves.
I'm very impressed with my novel. If I can't get it published I'll self-publish like Christian Barth did his Origins of Infamy. Then I'll list it under Favorite Blogs on the Right and you can buy it from Amazon.