From Reader, With Love

There once was a hopeful novelist. He was very passionate about writing. He wanted to create a masterpiece, something that people would one day look upon and consider a truly magnificent work. And so, each day, he poured the sum of all his combined knowledge, skill, and heart into a manuscript, believing that it could one day be published and thus realize his dream. Some days, his progress was minimal, even counterproductive, and some days, he wished his dream didn't take so damn long, but eventually, after years of struggling with his work, finally, it was done.

For longer than he cared to remember, he had been living for this day, hoping his little hopeful heart out. And now, he could relax a little. The hardest part was over. And then he went to get it published.

Now, he had never been one to believe that this would be easy. He was certain he would encounter plenty of difficulty along the way, and he was prepared to accept the fact that his story was, as of yet, imperfect. He had steeled his heart and was now prepared to make any gut-wrenching edits that he might need to.

So he did that, too. He found a publisher and met the demands made of him. He fought against changes he didn't want to make, conceded to ones he could agree with, and maintained the integrity of his work. All for the sake of seeing it in printed form, in completed form.

And then, that too was done. His book was truly finished. It was out in the world for all to see, just as he had hoped. Now, he could relax completely.

As time passed, his book began to gain popularity. It wasn't the famed masterpiece of his dream quite yet, but there was still time for that. His dream was coming true. It was happening. Just as he had hoped.

Then, one day, he encountered a friend of his, a friend who was in the very midst reading his book.

At first, he wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't told this friend about the book. His friend couldn't have known that he was the author. It was pure coincidence.

This could be a great opportunity, he realized. Truly honest criticism was so hard to come by. Maybe this was a chance to gain insight into what his readers were thinking, and hopefully, make his next book even better. So he carefully began the conversation.

"Hi..."

"Hey."

"What're you reading...?"

"Oh, just some shitty kids’ novel."

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"...I hope you die."

And then he walked away.