Dear Unfinished Work

An open letter to my unfinished work of fiction.

Dear Unfinished Work of Fiction,

This is a hard letter for me to write. We have been together for quite some time now. Ours has not been one of those fast and hard relationships; You know the ones I mean, where you pick up an idea in a bar one night, hammer against it for all it’s worth across a few short evenings and the occasional sneaky lunch, before ultimately discarding it to the pile of forgotten themes when the next pretty idea wanders past your vision.

No, we started off slow. We just flirted initially (I’ll admit it: In those early days I was flirting with several ideas) but after a while we got serious. I liked you and you liked me. We were good together.

We still are, I think. I enjoy our time together, but here is the thing: I am worried that perhaps we are drifting from lovers into the “friend” space. We seem to have settled into a comfortable pattern of revisiting the same chapters. I keep telling and retelling the same jokes. I really like you and really enjoy the times we spend together, but I need to know where we are going. I’m reaching the stage where I need something else. Do we have a future that is something more than just a pleasant way to spend my free time? Will we be able to write new chapters together?

I hate ultimatums, but if this is going to work we need to progress to the next level. For all I know you feel the same. Let’s give each other three more months to figure out if we have it in us to take our relationship to the next level. I hope we can, I really do.



Mutterings from the other side of the Writersroom, seem to indicate, a bit of, “Sado-Masachistic honky-tonking,” is all that’s required. “Works for me,” he muttered. :blush: Filth! Utter filth! :open_mouth: :blush: My advice Herr.S. is to ignore the degenerate’s utterances.
Disgusted Fluff