October 5, 2009
I recently found a fan letter that I'd written to an actress performing in a Broadway musical. I'd seen the show, but didn't have time to stick around for an autograph. So, I wrote a letter, sent it to the theatre (along with an 8 X 10 photo and a SASE - I'm big on base-covering), and received the picture back signed one week later.
In my letter, dated April 17, 2007, I wrote:
...I might one day be über - or semi - famous. But not in the ritzy glitzy glam paparazzi princess sense. Nope, I plan to be counted among the cliterary elite. I mean... among the literary elite...
I composed this letter before I'd even heard of something called erotica. I would not write my first piece of erotic fiction, nor would I even contemplate entering the erotica orbit, until three months later. Now, I realize three months isn't much, but at the time, I was wholly absorbed in the present - exams, assignments, senior project, cap and gown - and hadn't really gotten into the specifics of my post-collegian existence.
Who knew I had psychic proclivities?
That's so... well, Raven.
Curiouser and curiouser,