Carrie Clevenger – Letter from a Friend

In her letter, Carrie Clevenger mentions that I am an inspiration to her but, Carrie dahling, you've got things all twisted and screwed up here. 

YOU are the inspiration to me. 

Who's about to publish book number three while I struggle with number one?

Who continues to put out a new Friday Flash short story, every week, on top of editing a novel and working at a job that pays bills, not to mention being a wife and a mother? 

Who has a cool tattoo?

Carrie is, without a doubt, one of my favourite writers on the Friday Flash circuit. Her words are built strong, like railroad tracks laid down in rocky slag – never too many, never too few, all connected to lead the reader to a place Carrie wants you to see. The destination is always different but it never lacks soul. She makes writing look easy, Carrie does, and to me that's the best kind. You never get pulled out of the story, you never have to cheer her along; you just lose yourself in the words.

I have read two of Carrie's books, Just My Blood Type and Blood and Fire (both collaborations with another talented writer, Nerine Dorman). Read maybe isn't the right word because I whipped through them; they were that good. And like all fans of the Clevenger, I am waiting impatiently for the August 2012 release of Crooked Fang. Like everything Carrie does, I know it will be outstanding. 

Some day, when she's a household name, I'm gonna be able to say I once got a letter from her – a letter from a friend.

Dear Cathy: 

I can’t remember the last time I wrote an actual letter.

It’s 2012, that year that everyone has been talking about since they figured out that it could quite possibly be the end of the world. Am I concerned? Not really. Every other date which was sworn to be The End has come and gone, and we’re either left looking incredibly foolish or jaded, I can’t decide which.

I’m double-working, working on work-work, and this letter. A Perfect Circle is playing tonight on loop because it seemed just right to listen to. I wake up with music in my head more often than not. I blame Xan Marcelles for that recent development. Speaking of which, I’m in the real-time edits for Crooked Fang, and I can’t believe I’m about to join the ranks of other novelists out there. I really did it. It’s going to be published and out in the big wide world, and people will love it, and hate it, and I will face one of my greatest fears: receiving attention from people.

I’m a wallflower, always have been. Ever since I was that nerdy girl in school whom no one deemed cool enough to be seen with, to the point that I said ‘fuck it’ and did my own thing, fed-up with the whole trying to fit in with everyone else thing. It happens. Childhood is rarely a full beam of sunshine, but it does build character, for better or worse, and it’s important for me to remember that every day in my life with my daughter.

I’ve been reading lately. My latest read is American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I wish I hadn’t hesitated so long before trying a new author. I tend to stay loyal to who has always written the fail-safe stuff. It’s like that with a lot of factors in my life. I’m somewhat of a shut-in, and I get teased by Luke, my husband, whenever I get dressed up to actually leave the house.

It’s been a good year so far. I’m hoping to take a trip to Colorado sometime soon, in order to see the area I describe in Crooked Fang which is Pinecliffe. It looks beautiful in the pictures I’ve found online.

I bought a bag of cooked shrimp on sale at Target last week. I wanted to do a stir-fry, but I’m afraid I’ll ruin it. So the shrimp has gone bad in my fridge, due to my reluctance. It’s a symbol, I think. To try new things and not be afraid to make mistakes. I try not to. But I still do.

I hope this letter finds you well, Cathy. You are always such an inspiration to me. Good luck with your cataract surgery.

Kind regards,

Carrie