BB’s (possibly stolen) PROMPT for 04/10/15 ‑ Have your character write a letter for you, talking about herself and her situation and trying to convince your potential agent or editor to take this book on.
YES! I DID IT! Dear Ms. Mango ‑ I am writing this letter on behalf of Ms. BenschWensch, who has kindly written my sad story (with a happy ending). Until she came into my life, I was lost and confused. Let me tell you a little about that sad life:
I was born to a family who had a little social standing within our community, but that only meant we had to work twice as hard as everyone else to keep our entire household fed, clothed and housed. Oh, yes ‑‑‑ we were luckier than those who had none of the wherewithal which blessed us, so I shouldn’t complain. But I always had the feeling there was so much more out there.
One day I took a bold step: I left my chores (more than half‑done already, as it was near what you would call 10 a.m.) and finally decided to walk out to the hedge I’d seen from one of our upper windows. I knew it was more than a ground cover, as it stood high enough that I could not tell what lay beyond. I decided to discover the answer to that on my own.
When I got to the ivied hedge, and walked ’round and ’round it, feeling the wall ‑‑ which seemed to be of brick ‑‑ below it; in other words, the part which supported the ivy and kept it from being mere ground cover.
To my astonishment, I discovered a wall made of brick or baked clay ‑‑ it varied from place to place. Eventually I’d managed to feel myself around the entire wall, save one area about five of your “feet” wide, just to the left of where I’d begun (I knew this to be fact, as I’d tied my scarf ’round some of those ivy fronds when I started.) This wide surface was not brick or clay like the rest, but made of sturdy wood, oak would be my guess. And centered in this piece of wall was a vicious knocker ‑‑‑ I decided to put it to its presumed purpose, grabbed the long, crooked nose of the ghastly creature to whack it soundly into the oaken door! And the horrid Imp BIT my hand and made it bleed.
I was astonished at its audacity, as I had always been well‑treated by the villagers and dignitaries of the region . . . but that was only the beginning of my travails on the outside of my wall of ivy (and, to my chagrin, I realized I’d been on the INside of the wall all the my life: the WORLD, in fact, was OUTside my wall! As I began to discover through attempts, failures, grief, elation and many, many trials of strength, will, judgment and, face it, chutzpah!
Ms. BenschWensch has written my story: I urge you to read of my travels, pain and ultimate triumph in her book. Once read, I know you will wish to present her work to your world as a cautionary tale.
Anxiously awaiting your affirmative reply, I remain
Lackley no more, but L’Aquellian
(Feel free to re‑use my prompts, modified to YOUR specifications ‑‑‑ I “stole” them too from Carol Lynch Williams, AnnDeeCanDee, Cheryl, The ABC Writers Guild and others . . .