The Lost Letter
I thought I had put this letter up here months ago, so when fellow blogger and How To Revise Your Novel student, Mike Schulenberg asked if we had any blog posts to share I jumped right in with these. “I do, I do!” I called, as I waved my hand in the air. To my dismay, I searched the blog for the last in the series to find I had never posted it.
With my apologies for yet another casualty to the madness that is NaNoWriMo, I submit to you Teragus Swansong’s response to my frantic last-minute queries, leading up to my National Novel Writing Month project, ‘The Dragon’s Milk Chronicles: Book One-A Crown of Thorns.’
The Year of Our Mission: Three hundred and Thirty Five
Lunar Month Lilac, Day Twenty Five
Dear Fair Lady Larke,
My doubts, however slight they may have been, about your ability to tell this story have been laid to rest. My persistent skepticism with Rigel’s recommendations is fully to blame, and for that I am sorry.
Your suggestion that I peruse my own records with regards to the location of the plans for the sun room modifications was quite perceptive, as I had utterly forgotten that I had borrowed them for that purpose. I have forwarded them for your research and hope that you find them helpful.
I have also followed your advice regarding my consumption of animal products, particularly those of beef and pork extraction, and once again forsworn the rich meats I have been indulging in for the past few moons. My digestive system thanks you for your thoughtful response.
I must press you, fair lady, for any news of my dear daughter. It has been long since I was subjected to a separation from a loved one, other than that from my wife Avery. It pains me greatly to be without my dear Cerule’s laughter and sharp wit. Therefore, if you could find a moment in your communications with Rigel to pass along a few kind words from her father, I would be greatly in your debt.
I continue to bear my troubled conscience with a heavy heart, but will heed your wise counsel, and rejoice in my mortality, as I try to revel in the fleeting ephemeral that is the present.
How do your characters communicate with you? Do they send letters? Emails? Smoke signals?