Fran carefully copied the name and address from the Writer’s Market into her letter. She typed the salutation, “Dear Mr. von der Lippe.” She paused for a moment to ponder in equal measure what an odd name von der Lippe is and how odd it feels to address someone you don’t know as “dear.” Then she consulted her notes. She wanted this letter to be perfect.
Dear Mr. von der Lippe,
I am writing to request your assistance in dealing with one of your clients, the author Lincoln Masters. As his editor, I want you to make him stop writing about me. Linc and I exchanged several emails last year and I'm afraid he became quite smitten with me. Since I have recently rebuffed his advances I find that he is addressing most of his blog posts to me. He even based one of the characters in his latest book on me. The book appeared on bookstore shelves a scant one week after we "met" online. Coincidence? I think not!
As to the matter of his blog posts, I don't suppose he has you edit all of those but you should have considerable influence on him. Here are some examples of references he has made to me. Last week he wrote about meeting a woman in the grocery store. He described her as "a great horse of a woman with a neighing laugh that echoed through the store." I am a very petite woman and I would never laugh out loud in a grocery as that would interrupt the shopping pleasure of the other patrons. Besides, laughing in public is vulgar. Anyway, making her the exact opposite of me is an obvious and transparent ruse. The clincher though is that she had painted fingernails. Everyone knows that I keep my fingernails painted. Right now in fact they are a deep violet with cherry red stripes and glitter.
The week before that he wrote extensively about a woman named Mary that he had a date with. While Linc and I have not met (yet), I suggested several times that he had a pretty good chance of me accepting a date with him. He was apparently too shy to ask. That's one of the reasons I had to reject him; I need a more take-charge kind of man. Clearly though he has fantasized about our meeting as MARY is an acronym that refers to me. I am far too much a lady though to be explicit about what the acronym stands for.
Finally, he has posted a series of haiku about faeries. I come from a long line of elves and I can assure you that the general public does not distinguish between faeries and elves. I can also assure you that the differences are as distinct as those between humans and Martians. I could write a book about that. (In fact, I have started writing such a book. Would you care to publish it? If I send you the first 137 chapters can you read and comment on them for me? I must warn you though that a Martian publisher has already expressed interest. The earth-bound rights are still up for grabs, but you better act fast. Just saying.) Getting back to the matter at hand though, when he writes about faeries most people are naturally going to assume that he is referring to me.
If Linc does not immediately cease and desist writing about me in his blog and his books I am afraid that I will have to bring the full force of my elfin family to bear on the issue. I'm pretty sure the faeries would be in with us too. Trust me, you do not want the kind of trouble we can bring to you and your client. Also, I have a little blog of my own and I can pretty much guarantee that you will have at least three fewer sales of any future titles that you publish. If I tweet about it too we can probably bump that total up to at least five or six. A drop in the bucket you might think, but in today's economy can you really afford to pass up any potential sales?
Thank you for your time and I anxiously await a satisfactory conclusion to this matter.
Satisfied that she had expressed her wrath in a completely lady-like [and elfin-like] manner, Fran sent the document to the printer. With a sigh she scratched the pointed tip of her right ear and reached for an envelope.