From Across the Room

In another age, my kind was near extinction, killed in battle while struggling to put on chainmail. Today, a writer can travel to a seaside resort, slouch on a padded lounge, and appraise your furious letter comfortably. Rest assured, I am toiling away on the book, but as a matter of principle, I must refute your accusation that I am again irresponsible. Again? You know my pages were delayed last time due to a simple miscalculation. According to my lunar calendar, I was a month early. Nevertheless, my delay in sending the promised chapters was unavoidable this time and shows a depth of character you might find hard to believe. Are you at least curious why I journeyed to the Hotel Del Coronado to find my muse? A hotel is the ideal setting. The onslaught of fresh arrivals provides constant fodder while the locale ensures variety.

Accurate, high-season calls for stamina; writing requires keen observation skills. Though some are born with this gift, the rest must learn the nuances of peering and loitering while enduring the occasional knock on the head with a beaded evening bag. Do you see what I must suffer for your greatness and the publisher’s profits? I am not trying to be flippant before you fling your spectacles and running your thick fingers through your thin hair. I am well aware that, as my agent, your income is based on my hard work, and losing Harper & Brothers Publishing is a distasteful consequence we both wish to avoid. My career is dependent on the publisher and their dotted line, so let me explain my tardiness with enough background and detail to appease, nay impress, our good friends at Harper’s.