To Chapter 137 on the Occasion of Our Parting,

If I hadn't been sane, I would have written to you a long time ago.

As it was, our correspondence got off to a slow start. I mean, I knew you were out there some time back around January when the road to what I like to think of as the End began. You'll tell me it's silly, I know. It is. There is no end.


We started okay, I thought. My early ideas about how you would fit into my life were pretty positive. You looked real good in spreadsheets filled with vague plot possibilities and we just went from there. I was looking forward to meeting, actually. I even started to like the sound of one thirty seven a little--it might be a mouthful, eh, but you can't deny it's got a ring.

One thirty seven. Yeah.

Our early chats were promising. A little give and take. Still in the land of documentation but I like to take relationships real slow. A bit like a nice garden stroll of the sort like Chapter 141 has and which I now realize I should have probably gone right to all along. But there you were, a nice step on the way, somewhere I could spend some time, build something, and see what would happen.

Out of the land of outlines we rushed last Monday with, let's face it, some pretty nice promise. I did a helluva build-up for you--battle, suspense, danger, magic and all the world in the balance. You were gonna be the intricate maze of meaning through the chaos, a metaphorical tunnel into the story's heart.

Boy, was that a disaster. As first times go, ouch.

Everyone deserves a second chance, right? And sometimes it just helps to keep the pen moving. Incidentally, that's what I'm doing right now. Thought it might be a good idea to write to you as a way of getting past our impasse. I set a time limit, though. Bad relationships can't continue forever. And I've already exceeded it. That's the way it's been. I'm sure you'll agree.

I thought it would be a good idea to move the secondary protagonist in. The secondary protagonist is a good sort, makes a lot of situations work like that morale officer at work who has no real skills but tells an awesome joke. Just way more likeable and actually kind of important for your main scene.

You and me had problems, but this character knew the way out. So let's follow her, I thought. I thought you thought so, too. But then we ended up lost in the maze instead of making sense of it and here we are.

Geez. I don't want to complain. I'm probably making a mountain out of a mound here. We can get through this. I have faith. But dammit, it's been five days now. Five whole days and we've only got five pages and I don't feel real good about any of them. I don't know if you do. I doubt it. We both know they're shit, right? Characters in the wrong places, metaphors that don't connect to anything--or worse, connect to something no one will remember from 348 pages ago; believability issues that are worse than my second-youngest-step-sister's. Nothing makes sense. And hey, I take some of the blame. I'm the one thought it would be a good idea to put them there.

But you could give me an assist. Make something click in my muddled head. Connect something in a way that a reader could understand, maybe?

I know, I know. You think it's too long already. Damn, there it is. I mean, yeah. 137 chapters, right? It's a mess. I know it's a mess. How am I supposed to fix it with you sitting there, blocking the path to Chapter 141, who I really do need to see, garden or not.

I feel like we're talking past each other creatively. I'm doing my thing and you're doing my thing and we're just not lining up any more, if we ever did. And I know, that's sad. I really think that. I didn't mean to do this to you, and I regret it. Sincerely. Like I said--five days. (Yeah there was a trip to Seattle in the middle of it, but that was business, booked for a month, and I can't let you completely ruin my life, yeah?) But here's the thing: as irrelevant as you think I am, I'm the one in control here. See all those 136-odd other chapters (some of them have wandered off, I lost count awhile ago, but bear with me)? Those are mine. See this plot? Mine. Characters are mine. I dreamed them. I let you change them in certain ways, but not every way. This is my story, your theatre, so to speak.

We both started this journey a long time ago, eh One Thirty Seven? I know. For me it's been three years. For you it's been a lot longer. Fantasy is like that. Ideas and imaginations and all that.

Time's come. Here's a door. Why don't you show yourself the way out?


Sincerely,

A Playwright