Dear Jean:
I dare to address you as Jean since, down through the years, I have read all your wonderful essays, short stories and books as has my wife. Sometimes she has found a few lines of yours in some little-known magazine or even some company newsletter and has yelled from another room or even from upstairs, "Here's another piece by Jean Bell Mosley!"
Needless to say, I have dropped everything, even though it may be my Norelco in mid-shave, and have run to read what words you have put together in your own inimitable way.
My grandchildren keep scrapbooks of your work. They call it their Jean Book and have cut out pictures of birds, butterflies, rabbits, squirrels, flowers and even trolls to illustrate it. They want to know what has happened to the troll.
But I'm neglecting to lead right off with the good news. We have received your latest book manuscript, "For Most of the Century." It went like wildfire through our bevy of editors and each one said he/she sat up nights to read it and has run the gamut of emotions you elicit
Your sense of reader identification is so forcible we all cried at the understated grief expressed at your grandmother's death. We laughed hilariously at the swift downhill ride you and your sister took in your homemade wagon and landed in the St. Francis River.
We've hovered over your bed with shaking hands and heartfelt prayers when you were about to die from the snake bite. Each one of us on the editorial board tried to think of some poultice we might have brought to save you, but none could think of anything more curiously creative that the cockleburs boiled in sweet milk.
Though you never did say it actually happened, we ailed with you in the buggy over the barn lot fence because old Russel, the horse, could not abide shut gates.
Your spiritual journey inspired by the reflection of sunlight on a brass carbide light reflector was a touching marriage of everyday reality with the deepest of faith, resulting in your running conversation with God which is an ongoing affair, a thing all people should have.
All of our editors speak glowingly of your narrative hook, your clarity, your marvelous characterizations, your swift but attentive movement through the wars, the Depression, struggle for an education, loss of loved ones, joy at new births.
Your final chapter, "Sweeping up the Sunshine," tells us what joy along the way you have had in such sweeping.
But I'm delaying in telling you the good news. You have, I imagine. already suspected it by the contract we have enclosed. I suspect, like all good serious writers, you even looked at it first.
If you did you will have noted that we are offering you an initial payment of $500,000 against royalties. Our first printing will be 50,000 and we will submit it to all the Book Clubs as well as Oliver Stone. Be prepared to appear on the Larry King Show, Book Notes and many other TV programs.
Since you have no fax or e-mail address, I'm sending this letter and contract by U.S. Mail. From past experience I believe you will receive it April 1st. In that event, may I say I am,
Foolishly yours,
Lirpa Loof, Editor, Fantasy Books
~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.
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