Grand Expectations
Dear Editor:
Enclosed is my manuscript, “A Brief History of Wicker.” Although your writers’ guidelines prefer that I query you first and enclose clips, I hope you will make an exception. You see, I have taken early retirement for the sole purpose of making my mark in the literary world, and since I am fast approaching senior citizenry, I am in kind of a hurry.
In lieu of published clips, however, I have prepared the following synopses of some of my earlier works, which I will send you upon request-- neatly typed if you deem it absolutely necessary. However, I have a strong suspicion that once you peruse my manuscript, you will deem it unnecessary.
“My First Time,” September, 1958:
For a homework assignment from my senior high school year, I present a true and vivid account of my entry into manhood. It all takes place on a green Naugahyde La-Z-Boy in my living room at a time when my parents were in the city enjoying Tennessee Williams’ play, “Suddenly Last Summer”-- which, by the way, was my working title. My reading was extremely popular with the class-- a standing ovation no less. Even Susan C. (who had been “the wind beneath my wings” so to speak), although failing to applaud, grudgingly admitted to the piece’s vivid imagery.
“Dear Patricia,” May, 1961:
A searing, passionate letter mailed to my steady, Patricia D., while I was a private stationed in Kaiserslautern, Germany, which I penned immediately after discovering she was secretly dating Salvatore G. I have recently found her phone number and called to see if she was still in possession of that particular correspondence. Although she couldn’t quite recall me, she promised to look around for it right after she returned from Missoula, Montana where her son, Salvatore G, Jr., lives. I called her a few weeks later, but her number was no longer in service. I had, however, tracked down her new number and called her a multitude of times. I am confident I will be in possession of that letter as soon as her restraining order is lifted.
Note: The following synopsis of a letter is one I have indeed published, dear editor, in my local paper. My wife, however, foolishly relegated the original clipping to our trash bin some years ago-- a reprehensible act for which to this very day I cannot help but bring to her attention.
“Letter to the editor of The Oceanside Herald,” June, 1980:
An eloquent dissertation rebuking the Oceanside Junior Soccer League for taking sides with the referee who banned me from all my daughter’s soccer games. In this letter I expound on how one must take into account the emotional intensity of a parent whose loving offspring has been denied a goal through the lack of vigilance on the part of the referee. The language I used while addressing the referee, while admittedly strong, was succinct and easily grasped. Had I employed euphemism-- a coward’s ploy-- I would have called him a sight-deprived individual with dubious lineage.
Subject: “Mental Deficiencies during Menstrual Cycles,” July 1998:
An insightful, well documented memorandum to my then-boss, outlining obvious errors in his choice of Susan H. for a promotion in which I was the more qualified. It is for all intents and purposes an essay that virtually raises the mundane-ness of the business letter to an art form. Moreover, you will marvel at my scathing analysis of how feminism was destroying the business world. The letter was so forceful and so germane that a meeting of all department heads ensued for no other reason than to discuss its merits. Apparently, the clarity and purposefulness of my arguments posed such a threat to the integrity of the entire senior staff that I was given a bonus to take early retirement.
The above works are but the tip of the literary iceberg. I, therefore, cannot possibly see how you can pass up gracing your magazine with my offering without risking a haunting rebuke from the great writers who have come before me. I will patiently wait out the required two months for your response. However, if I do not find your letter favorable, I will have no other choice but to follow up such an egregious act with a letter to your publisher.
Your comrade in words,
R. Rabelais Krakowski
>Published in Absolute Write (copyrighted)
Enclosed is my manuscript, “A Brief History of Wicker.” Although your writers’ guidelines prefer that I query you first and enclose clips, I hope you will make an exception. You see, I have taken early retirement for the sole purpose of making my mark in the literary world, and since I am fast approaching senior citizenry, I am in kind of a hurry.
In lieu of published clips, however, I have prepared the following synopses of some of my earlier works, which I will send you upon request-- neatly typed if you deem it absolutely necessary. However, I have a strong suspicion that once you peruse my manuscript, you will deem it unnecessary.
“My First Time,” September, 1958:
For a homework assignment from my senior high school year, I present a true and vivid account of my entry into manhood. It all takes place on a green Naugahyde La-Z-Boy in my living room at a time when my parents were in the city enjoying Tennessee Williams’ play, “Suddenly Last Summer”-- which, by the way, was my working title. My reading was extremely popular with the class-- a standing ovation no less. Even Susan C. (who had been “the wind beneath my wings” so to speak), although failing to applaud, grudgingly admitted to the piece’s vivid imagery.
“Dear Patricia,” May, 1961:
A searing, passionate letter mailed to my steady, Patricia D., while I was a private stationed in Kaiserslautern, Germany, which I penned immediately after discovering she was secretly dating Salvatore G. I have recently found her phone number and called to see if she was still in possession of that particular correspondence. Although she couldn’t quite recall me, she promised to look around for it right after she returned from Missoula, Montana where her son, Salvatore G, Jr., lives. I called her a few weeks later, but her number was no longer in service. I had, however, tracked down her new number and called her a multitude of times. I am confident I will be in possession of that letter as soon as her restraining order is lifted.
Note: The following synopsis of a letter is one I have indeed published, dear editor, in my local paper. My wife, however, foolishly relegated the original clipping to our trash bin some years ago-- a reprehensible act for which to this very day I cannot help but bring to her attention.
“Letter to the editor of The Oceanside Herald,” June, 1980:
An eloquent dissertation rebuking the Oceanside Junior Soccer League for taking sides with the referee who banned me from all my daughter’s soccer games. In this letter I expound on how one must take into account the emotional intensity of a parent whose loving offspring has been denied a goal through the lack of vigilance on the part of the referee. The language I used while addressing the referee, while admittedly strong, was succinct and easily grasped. Had I employed euphemism-- a coward’s ploy-- I would have called him a sight-deprived individual with dubious lineage.
Subject: “Mental Deficiencies during Menstrual Cycles,” July 1998:
An insightful, well documented memorandum to my then-boss, outlining obvious errors in his choice of Susan H. for a promotion in which I was the more qualified. It is for all intents and purposes an essay that virtually raises the mundane-ness of the business letter to an art form. Moreover, you will marvel at my scathing analysis of how feminism was destroying the business world. The letter was so forceful and so germane that a meeting of all department heads ensued for no other reason than to discuss its merits. Apparently, the clarity and purposefulness of my arguments posed such a threat to the integrity of the entire senior staff that I was given a bonus to take early retirement.
The above works are but the tip of the literary iceberg. I, therefore, cannot possibly see how you can pass up gracing your magazine with my offering without risking a haunting rebuke from the great writers who have come before me. I will patiently wait out the required two months for your response. However, if I do not find your letter favorable, I will have no other choice but to follow up such an egregious act with a letter to your publisher.
Your comrade in words,
R. Rabelais Krakowski
>Published in Absolute Write (copyrighted)
posted by rich at 3:59 AM
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