When I was a child in school, I was never assigned the task of writing to an author — thank goodness, as such mandated correspondence is the dullest and most pointless kind. However, I did once write to the favorite author of my adolescence, Robin McKinley, and she not only answered with a real letter, which she sat down and typed on official stationery in her publisher’s office (this was 1984), but sent me a copy of a book of hers I had not been able to find, not yet having access to online bookstores. It was probably the high point of my young life!
This success did not set me off on a spate of writing to more of my favorite authors, for which they would probably be thankful, if they knew what they were missing. But now that I’ve become an author myself, I notice that it is nice to hear from readers. The most popular writers must be inundated with electronic mail, with assistants to deal with it, hardly looking at it themselves. But those lower down on the literary totem pole might appreciate some evidence their words are being received and heard. Everybody seems to want to write and publish these days, but who is reading all those words? A lot of very worthwhile writing gets less attention than it deserves. So I thought that maybe I could reach out to some of the writers whose work I’ve enjoyed.
I could write online reviews, of course, and I do, but a personal note might be appreciated from time to time. So I’ve started sending these, whenever I feel moved to do so. If I don’t have something substantial to say — other than “I loved your book!” — I usually refrain. But when I do have some particular passages to praise, or want to share how something especially inspired or comforted me, I’ve started to reach out.
I’ve held back from asking many questions, as I fear those might be annoying. I was not so polite with Robin McKinley, demanding to be told how I could find her book, as well as what her favorite books were — “and don’t say War and Peace,” I insisted, since I was tired of having boring classics urged on me. She seemed to find it all charming, but then, I was 15 years old. These days, I try to be more respectful of boundaries. One doesn’t want to cause authors to feel they’re being harassed, or stalked. A book I recently read, Tove Jansson’s The Woman Who Borrowed Memories, brought this to my attention — she includes a couple of stories that must have been based on her own experience, where fan correspondence can be gratifying but also a little unnerving. I hope to stay on the positive side of that line.
Have you ever written to a writer whose work you enjoyed, or considered doing so? How did that turn out?