To Whom it May Concern
Dear Sir or Madam,
Thank you for reading my letter.
I appreciate your time more than you could ever know, mostly because we haven’t discussed it at all.
Allow me to tell you a little bit about myself and my writing, with the intent to “win you over” or “sweet talk you” or “literally, butter you up” or just have you accept my writing. In case you weren’t sure, I am not serious about buttering you up, unless it leads to a book deal.
For starters, I am a husband and a father, but it wasn’t always that way, despite how it looks. That happened over a series of years. Quite a long story actually. I won’t bore you with it now — no, I need to save some boring stories for the future!
I am also a writer who is attempting to take one big step and then another; taking as many steps as is necessary to present at one of your events (with the precise number of steps being determined by my proximity at the time). For estimation’s sake let’s say somewhere between 1 and a billion.
I have created a series of personal stories that almost demand to be told, but not quite ever since we had a talk. Those stories can be so demanding, they sort of forget their place — almost like that time I forgot my place and read the same paragraph 5 times each time having a sneaky suspicion that I had either read it before or dreamed of reading it before and then cursing myself for having such dreadful and repetitive dreams.
“Dream big!” my grandfather was always yelling at me with such vitriol that I spent years wondering what exactly was up. Turns out, much to my surprise, that it was the ceiling that was up the whole time and that it was only painted to look like a floor, just to mess with me. It worked. Really well.
These stories I’ve written start in my embarrassing, yet funny, days of dating in high school and continue up until being married with two kids who will one day have their own embarrassing high school dating stories which we will spend holidays and weekends breaking down and analyzing. I had planned to write an entire series starring myself during my embryonic stage, but decided that would be too “gross”.
I aim to tell these stories, otherwise they only exist in my head (which does make my head feel quite special), with my unique style that attempts to be heartwarming, odd, tangential, meandering and laugh-inducing up until a point, as everything must come to an end, unless it is infinite and I am definitely not bold nor lacking in knowledge of temporal physics enough to claim my stories will create infinite laughter — I mean I am bold enough to claim it, but then what? I mean where would that get me? Saskatchewan?
The topics and themes in the stories are that of the Everyman and the beings that love him who are sometimes women and sometimes it is just hard to tell which makes things quite fun and exciting. These are universal themes which only makes sense as last time I checked I was a member of the universe unless my card has been revoked. In my world, cards get revoked all the time and for such silly reasons like “you haven’t paid your overdue fees for years” and “stop trying to put a card in me, I’m the doorman”.
The stories are full of strange connections, asides and creative fiction as my life needs some fictionalization which you will fully appreciate and applaud when you meet me. I did write one uber-true story, if you were wondering, and it was so depressing that my two cats decided they preferred the company of racoons and coyotes.
The stories are solely told from my perspective aside from a few moments where I attempt to tell them from the verbs’ point of view. Lots of action in those parts. After an extremely intense lucid dream I once tried to tell a story that was only punctuation which was a big hit with my mail carrier; though, to be honest, that guy is a sucker for anything on paper.
The writing you will read if you accept me is littered with both figurative and literal thoughts and circumstances making the truth blurred and spun around until it is dizzy so it can’t walk a straight line and may need a cab. This is the only circumstance where both littering and blurring the truth are acceptable; well, this and when my wife and I have a date night.
Telling stories about those closest to me brings a tear to my eye although it is often hard to tell them apart from the water I spray on myself each 15 minutes to stay “wet”. “Why do you have to be wet all the time?” is a great question that everyone from my eldest daughter to my podiatrist to my imaginary friend who is a dolphin always ask to great frustration.
In conclusion, I hope to bring my stories to a stage or a forum or even an alley in the near future if you grant me the opportunity — I happen to be a huge fan of alleys in general with my own alley being the dearest to me. It is one amazing alley.
Thank you for your time (although it would be bold of you to say it was “your” time, unless it actually is, and then 1000 apologies will arrive each day for 1000 days starting September 1st). I look forward to either hearing from you or reading a message from you and, if it comes to it, feeling a message instead.