Dear writer of the prose,
We at Publishing house are honored to have been given the chance to read your manuscript! Obviously we’re not a big enough publisher to actually be considered by such a grandiose writer as yourself, ha-ha-aha, but it was an honor, an absolute honor.
Since the moment you sent us that historic submission, we at Publishing House all put down what we were doing, and fought over your pages. In fact, at one point, every editor in the building was looking over my shoulder, dying to read what you next had to say. Your words are like beautiful dollar symbols, like majestic unicorns, like a blissful rainbow! Oh, how you place your commas, and condense your paragraphs! And the errors, we all just scoffed at them, delighted to see how you knew as well as us that a writer of your caliber need not worry about grammatical mistakes! Oh, you are so good! Oh oh oh!
What a blessing it was, on page two, paragraph three, when you opened with the line, ‘When I was a boy and it used to rain’ Oh! We all exploded with applause – the depth, the magnitude, the sheer…. you are so amazing! Thank you so much for gracing us with your submission. As we are sure you anticipated, we expedited your work to a much larger, big time publisher than ourselves. We all put suggestions on how much they should offer you, and one employee even included five-hundred dollars, in gratefulness for being blessed enough to read your work.
Once again, thanks for your submission, and please remember us in your interview with the New York Times. However, we understand we don’t deserve to talk with you again, nor be given a response for this letter, or should I say ‘toilet paper’ (in comparison to your own writing, of course)
Thank you, I mean, thanks,
you’ve changed our lives for the better, and we will always remember your piece ‘The day I woke up then did the thing then wrote the thing on my typing keys’
We’re not worthy.