Still working on it,

Emily

This piece–what I wrote, not what you wrote–embarrasses me. Of course, I flinched the first time it was brought to my attention, and skimmed, as people who don't want to hear the truth about themselves are wont to do. I can't make any excuses–I can only say that you brought to your reading of my pitiful (and self-pitying) essay much more thought and purpose than I had in writing it. Yes, I was traumatized by the experience, which absolutely goes to show that I had no idea what I was talking about and learned less than nothing–learned, in fact, obedience, as you pointed out. I'm very glad you wrote this and hope it's more widely read than the article itself. I'm also glad you wrote it for my own education, because with a few years' reserve, I can look at your brilliant and much-deserved smackdown as a gift.

Between you and me, that bullshit cop-out ending was the sixth I wrote, the last in a series of increasingly desperate efforts to satisfy my editor, who thought that the first five endings were too depressing. I tried the “Les Miserables” line and hey, it stuck, so I got to go bathe. My style got me by with very little substance or true (imagine!) reflection. I wish I had had your insight and standards when I wrote this.

Thank you. Keep up the good work. I'll try.

Sincerely,
Emily DePrang