Dearest Wilhelmina

Creative Forums Creative Writing
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Dearest Wilhelmina,

I have not but moments ago ceased reading your harrowing letter, and I was so completely stunned I seriously considered the virtues of the nunnery. The shock dear, the ghastly terror of the sheer cliff face horror that has befallen you, Wilhelmina, I empathise with my entire bosom, but more I cannot do. I live seven leagues away…and I have some news on that…o but alas…my dear it has been so long, too long, and so much has passed…we have not spoken for decades, tell me, do you still remember the candied apples of our childhood? But! I drift; let us not dwell in joviality in times of crisis. Father banished you to the trough like a rat or sewer rag, and all for showing you lady part to the excise man, a move which you are now all too painfully aware was brash boorish and totally unproductive, it has completely undermined your integrity, whorish, if I may swear.

Young Wilhelmina, I had to quell my rage for a brief moment as I read, but as we are sisters, one to another, close as only kin can possibly be, I could never disown you, no matter what vile lechery or vice you partake in. I shall be sending a small sum of cash to follow after this letter, may it bless you for a time, I have also attached a small offering of food in reply to your most wonderful strawberries one which was rotten, strangely symbolic, of what I‘m not quite sure, but I mused ever so thoughfully.

Now for the most urgent news I must tell you - I am with child. Yes! It was the butcher…his cuts were so fine…he taught me to carve my own meat…purely platonically…tutelage really…he got along sweetly…well, then after some weeks of training, he made a pass at me, to which I returned with a modest stroke of shirt wrist, which triggered a most passionate night of love and conception – poetry really. Miraculous, but I must be silent and so must you! We are not wed…we shall…soon…perhaps I shall tell you the time of our union when I next reply to you. Dearest Wilhelmina, endure the suffering of the trough existence, fate shall change your luck, dig deep with the pigs, don’t let pride kill you, Father was a bastard, but wealth makes many forms of love and we know he is no noble council estate man. He was a stone man. Peace to you love, endure!

Love, from your eternal sister, Agatha.

My offering:

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This recent one combined with the letter to Agatha are excellent for skit imagery and dramatics. I can see in my mind each event described, and also the dialect reveals the personality type and historical setting of the characters. Maybe the victorian period. I picture pale, wigged englishmen and women of pomp stature. The men are astute, the women, giggly.

They are well written.

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Well thank you detrop for putting things so succintly…these letters are farcical but they do have a life of their own…I think I am going to continue these letters as I go…elaborate…create…

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Colin,

This amused me no end, but I think that you could develop this further in several regards. Detrop has summed up the piece’s strongest virtues and I agree with every word that he has said so there’s no point just repeating that.

You could counterbalance the schizoid drama and pompous, fruity dialect with some sort of haunting imagery, the implication of a genuine fear that underpins the madness, if you see what I mean.

I also think you should try, seriously try, to write a piece that is about 4 times longer than this, just to see if you can maintain the vigour without getting tired or bored of the style. I know, I know, I bang on and on about discipline and you can accuse me of having a rod up my ass all you like, but if you could produce full length pieces of this quality then you’d almost surely get published, and that’s one of the aims, isn’t it?

I’ve mentioned Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell to you before, which can be found on amazon here
which is an extraordinary book, one section of the 6 being a series of letters from a guy in Belgium working with an elderly composer (the composer is going blind and needs someone to transcribe his compositions) set in the late 19th century, I think. Your piece reminds me of this book so I thought that I’d bring it up again.

This week I have been mostly reading Katherine Mansfield’s short stories. Fascinating writer, sort of a Kiwi version of Virginia Woolf.

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For me, this has the feel and style of Joyce Carol Oats. I wonder though, what other than the longing to be close to someone, can you bring to the table with a piece like this? Interesting nevertheless.

“shall be sending a small some of cash to follow after thisletter, may it bless you for a time,”