Skip to main content

The Letter Exercise #1

A few years ago, I took on a writing exercise where I had to write letters from characters I was writing about based on what was going on in their heads that they would never say. 
I did this exercise base on an alternate story line for a series of novels I've been working on since the early 2000s, then forgot about it.
But, as sometimes will happen when saving writing ideas, I stumbled into it again while working on the Traditions post I wrote a couple of weeks ago, and thought the three letters I finished for it were too compelling to ignore. 

Below is the first letter - I'm not sure when or even if I'll post the rest of them. I leave whether that happens or not in your hands. Let me know in the comments, on Facebook, or on Twitter!


You know something? I think that college life is a far different story for me than it is for you. You got to stay at home. You never had to uproot yourself, move to a city you’ve never been to before, and live with someone you didn’t even know existed two months ago. Didn’t have to deal with sudden mood swings, or offense at the slightest movement, or rapid changes into languages you’re pretty sure you’ve never heard in your life.

There are some days when I want to call you and tell you to come get me, when I want to go home and pretend like this whole stupid thing I thought would be an adventure never happened, like I never made the mistake of believing I could handle being here on my own. The days when I have migraines and Tia blasts Blurred Lines so loud I can’t even think. The nights where I lie comatose in someone else’s bed because I couldn’t take any pain killer in my own room and sleep the pain away there. The days when I have to study for a quiz or finish a problem set or write a paper for the next day, and work calls and asks me to cover a shift because someone didn’t show up. The days when I pass out in the middle of class and end up drooling all over my notes because I never got any sleep the night before. Most days of the week, really.

Yeah, I know I didn’t really have to move here. I could have picked any one of a hundred schools that is closer to home than this is. Every school in the country wanted me to come. Mom and Dad wanted me to stay home. Cora thought this was a bad idea. Granted, Cora is usually wrong, but still… Mom and Dad thought it was a bad idea, too. You’re the only one around still who thought I should go wherever I wanted to go, the only one who thought I could make it. And you’re also the one who told me right after moving me in that if I wanted to leave, all I had to do was call you – that you would come, and move me out, and be the one person who didn’t pester me with a million times of “I told you so.”

I want to call you right now. I’m lying on Jack’s couch with the cell phone in my hand, waiting for him to come back with the refill on my prescription. My head is pounding, and I can’t even think straight. I don’t want to make any decisions about anything right now. It hurts too much to worry about what to do. If I could just curl up in bed and just exist…

But that isn’t how life works, is it? It’s not how adults are supposed to do things. I have to get through this. I have to learn how to start saying no. I have to decide to stand up to my roommate. I have to figure out how to control this pain better than I have been. I have to learn how to do my homework, no matter what time of the day or night. And I have to learn to live with this ache inside of me because the right man thinks I’m not ready to be with him yet.

I have to do this, so I’m not going to call you and tell you to bring me home. I’m going to lay here and rest and hope that God will give me some relief. Otherwise, I’m doomed.



Popular posts from this blog

Metaphors: Candles

I've recently fallen in love with candles. Since coming home from the World Race , I've bought at least one a month. My favorite candles are the ones that come in glass jars - because when they burn out, I can clean the remaining wax out and put the jars to other uses. Right now,  that means they get cleaned out and packed away in anticipation of my move to Flagstaff. But as I was lighting one tonight (vanilla spice... Thanksgiving smells? Yes, please!), I saw a metaphor for writing flickering away in the flame licking at the wick and melting the wax. I suppose it could be a metaphor for life in general, but since the theme of this blog is writing... Well, you do the math.

[Five Minute Friday] Purpose

Fiber bars, strewn along the side of the road. There had to be at least a dozen of them, still in their wrappers and completely unopened. No box in sight. Really? That's about the reaction my younger sister and I had when we stumbled on them on our early morning run. Really? along with disgusted sighs about the wastefulness of it. These were the expensive ones, not a generic store brand that kind of tastes and kind of looks the same sometimes. So, when we weren't keeping an eye out for their box, we speculated about what had happened. And wondered how many more we were going to see before the end of our run. "Maybe they took one bite and thought they were gross," my sister said. "So they threw them out because they didn't want them anymore." I let out one of those disgusted sighs and nodded along with her theory. "Yeah, or they got in a huge fight, and threw them out in a fit of rage." "That's a possibility." And

How to Make Sure Your Book Review Request Does NOT Get Deleted

I've been hesitant to write this post. That is due, in large part, to how angry I get some days after reading book review requests. I curse, I rant, I snark. My cat will tell you it's not a pretty sight. But I also feel like this is a good opportunity to talk about what it is that makes me feel those feelings AND how to not stir them up. I'm not the only reviewer that gets frustrated when I see certain things in my emails from authors looking for a review. And I know I'm not the only one who gets triggered enough to ignore or delete those messages. I never feel good about doing it. It's just that I'm hitting the proverbial wall here and I want to hit it a little less often. So if you're an author looking for loving advice on how to approach reviewers (especially this one), read on. Review Requests I Always  Delete Before I get into what to do, I wanted to take a minute to look at what not to do (and how I handle it). Want to know what immedi