Hot Hot Phone

From: SteveNotStephen@yahoo.com

To: TylerFrinkson@gmail.com

Subject: dumb

Hey Tyler,

Thanks for agreeing to take a look at this piece I wrote that I’ll be submitting to a few sites and give me feedback. I know you’re super busy with your own writing (which is awesome, btw, big fan of your stuff), so it means a lot and I SUPER appreciate it. I’ll keep this brief since you’re already spending time reading my essay (attached to this email as a Microsoft Word .docx, Microsoft Word 97-2003 .doc compatible form, Adobe PDF and Celtx form just in case it reads better as a script even though it’s not a script).

I really think this piece could be great (it’s definitely the best idea I’ve come up with and wrote down in my iPhone Notes in the past 3 years/iPhones), but I’m having some trouble with the structure of it. Sometimes I just get in my head and I think, “Am I a talented writer? Is this really my calling in life? Am I even alive right now? I feel so numb and alone even though I’m writing this piece in an aggressively busy Panera Bread restaurant.“ But none of this has to do with the piece itself, sorry!

Fucking shit, honestly I don’t even think I’m worthy of calling myself a writer, I mean, I definitely feel the struggle of a writer, but writers should be GOOD and have I achieved GOOD yet or am I still floating in Writers’ Purgatory as just OKAY?? You might be a little confused on the phrasing in the third paragraph, so give me a heads up if you want me to clarify what I’m trying to get across there. What does it even mean to call yourself a writer and which entity is in charge of deciding that you’re allowed to join the ranks of great writers who have come before you? (I’m totally cool with cutting the last paragraph if it’s running on too long, FYI.) I feel like such a garbage person when I read my work aloud to myself, but the whole point of my submitting this is that you don’t think that. 

Let me know if you think I should swap the fifth word in the second to last line with a better synonym – I’m not married to the adjective that’s there now. WHY MUST I TORTURE MYSELF EVERY SINGLE DAY WITH THE PRESSURE OF LIVING UP TO THESE UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS I’VE SET AND LEAVE MY CRIPPLING SELF-ESTEEM HANGING ON AN INTANGIBLE CLOTHESLINE ALONGSIDE EVERYTHING I WRITE, EXPOSED TO ALL OF SOCIETY TO GAWK AT AND JUDGE?

Take your time getting back to me (no rush!) and tell me if you think I should rework the title: 5 Dogs Who Look Like Nicolas Cage

Thanks!/I hate myself!,

Steve