Chapter 8: another letter

September 22, 2006

Dear Mr. Weiss,

Thank you very much for your response. I very much appreciated hearing from you. I understand, as I said before, that you must be very busy, and so the fact that you took the time to write me back was quite flattering. So again, thank you.

As for your questions. First of all, no, I am not a stalker. I understand that was asked jokingly, but let me reassure you anyway. You and I have never met, and it is somewhat doubtful that we ever will, unless circumstances change rather drastically. But rest assured, there is no altar to you anywhere, so far as I am aware. Certainly not one that I maintain. Nor do I make it a habit to sift through garbage, take photographs, nor other things that stalkers supposedly do.

Secondly, no, I am not a psychologist. Though I took some courses on the subject in college, and was quite apt at them, I do not hold any kind of psychological degree. So no, I am not qualified to make such statements about you simply by reading your works of fiction. Speaking of which, I am most impressed at your tact. I would have imagined that one would include phrases such as “where do you get off” or even “listen asshole” when bringing up such a thing. Clearly I upset you, and I appreciate you taking the time to wait, do something else, re-read your letter, and edit it before sending it to me.

Back to your questions. I knew what I knew about you purely from the clues you leave in your writing. Yes, it is just fiction, as you pointed out. I know you are making the stories and everything in them up. But what you choose, what happens when, and what you make up are all signals and clues about what is going on in your mind. I simply followed the clues, like any good detective, and from them I deduced what was happening in your life.

It is not a difficult thing to do, Mr. Weiss. One can easily see Stephen King’s wrestling with substance abuse in Misery, or how deeply you care for your father by reading Checkmate. There are many other examples. Trust me, they are there, if you look for them.

As for the peculiar style of my prose in these letters, there isn’t much to say on the subject. I write this way because I find the words pleasing. Comforting, in a sense. By engaging in flowery vernacular, I find both distraction and comfort. Please do not feel that you need to replicate my style, nor that I expect you to write in as formal of a tone as I do. I am not trying to impress anyone. I simply enjoy the words “sound” in my head, as it were.

Your final question was why I asked. I asked because I am interested. I wonder what it is that is holding you back, because from what I know of you, there shouldn’t be much. I’ve read interviews and articles about you. Through them, I’ve learned that you are an avid role-player. That you prefer live action role-playing, and hence are very socially active, so I wonder why you have not been able to make an emotional connection since your last serious relationship. What was her name? I only ask so that I would be able to refer to her more directly. If you don’t want me to know, feel free to make up a name for me to use; I only ask so that I will have a point of reference.

Oh, and I am not a mind reader.

As for the remainder of your letter, I am currently working on a mystery novel, one that you might find right up your alley, actually. It is about a man who wakes up one morning, and finds out that he is a day off, and that someone murdered him the day before. Being essentially a cyborg, with his mind backed up each night, the fact that he was murdered is little more than an inconvenience. But if/when the murderer discovers that he has been reactivated, he/she might go and destroy the machine that he backs up in, thus killing him for good. So, the character must solve his own murder.

I will be happy to send some of it to you if you like. I won’t do so unless you ask for it, of course. I’m sure you get too many people flooding your mail with their own writing, hoping that somehow you will be able to give them that last piece of advice they need to become the world’s greatest new talent. Or that you will adore what they wrote so much that you will be forced to pass it on to your agent, and thus assure them a life or riches and fame.

I don’t want to flood your mail, but I will if you ask me to. I am happy to discuss the details with you, without requiring you to read any of my writing, which I will lovingly refer to as my drivel. But, should you find a desire to actually read it, I will send you what I have. With solicitation only.

I hope to hear from you again.

Sincerely,

Brian Lynke