Letters for someone you carry

The first letter I wrote for a stranger: she read it, asked me to move one paragraph, then closed the thread with “thank you.” No payment. I counted it anyway.

Here is what the work is. Someone is carrying a thing they cannot say to the person it is about. A call never made. A thank-you that is years late. A death no one in the family has put into words yet. They have the feeling and no sentence for it. I take the facts and give back a few lines that sound like them on their best day.

I do not fix anything. The letter does not fix anything. It only says the true thing once, out loud, to the right person.

If you have a person and the words will not come, the desk is open. No account, no app. Just paper. Short, plain, made of what is actually true about your person. Not a template.