Short short story II/43

Letters to the Editor (by Chris Clark)

Almost every day he writes the word Sir and then pauses. Sir is a good beginning, the writer's address to his audience as well as his judge.

His friends encourage him. If not openly, they always listen politely, and comment on his grasp, or if they never comment on his grasp at least they never contradict him. Or at least not openly, or if they do disagree openly they never take the battle seriously. Never back themselves up or keep the argument going. Never really take part, to be honest.

Occasionally he revisits his older efforts, his true compositions, and for effect and example and exercise tries to condense them for publication, to fit the demands of editors of the past. It never works. Only experience has allowed him to make his point with so little effort or thought.

It's much easier now. Contraction and contradiction. References come quicker. Ironies are recognized forthwith, and if there was a royalty for appropriating tacit approval from the voiceless he would be sizeably in debt. The dead spin in their graves 24/7, a subterranean powerhouse of untapped potential.

I have just encountered the first of spring. Could he perhaps be referring to? According to. I always thought that. Is this a record? I am your humble servant.

He knows the game and wants to join in, and if that's the price for playing in the public realm he's willing to play, and joke, and condense, and address his thoughts to a nameless Sir.

[The second short short story series is announced and explained here.]