Mail From The Children
I can’t write another word of my Rachel book this afternoon. I’m almost finished, and toward the end I have to pull everything together. I need some thinking time.
And perfect timing, the mail arrives. It’s time to read the children’s mail.
I remember Lloyd Alexander telling me that he always responded the same day he received the letters. He gave me his soft wonderful smile. “Otherwise they’d pile up, wouldn’t they!” He raised his arms over his head.
I do read the children’s mail as soon as I receive it. But I look at the wire basket from the corner of my eye. It’s stuffed with letters. More fun, I guess, to receive than to give, especially because the letters really are such fun.
How about this: “If you’re going to write a book called PICTURES OF HOLLIS WOODS, wouldn’t you think you could at least add some pictures?”
A class writes: “Why didn’t you capitalize the title?”
A prize: “I’m like Matthew (THE CANDY CORN CONTEST)because I wet the bed sometimes.”
Today there are pictures, hand-drawn and a little wiggly—great to prop up on my desk. I find photographs of earnest looking girls, a few problems revealed, and two secrets.
Tucked in a group of class letters: I admired the first page of your book. I’m going to finish it.
I must pull out the first page of my Rachel. I hope I admire it. I’m certainly going to finish it…
And then I’m going to answer all this mail.