Authors come and go, but the great ones always live on. They are immortalized by their writings. But, though they speak to me, it’s a heartbreaking thought that I can’t speak back. My heart is imprisoned behind a wall of longing which can never be broken down. But I can certainly build windows! This letter to Twain is a simple conversation and a host of questions I would ask if he were sitting right beside me today.
Dear Mr. Twain,
I’m almost embarrassed to say I’ve never read many of your writings. But, I’ve read two now (Prince and the Pauper being my first) and I think my previous statement will change.
It really started with Tom Sawyer. I always considered it a children’s novel. (It’s constantly been categorized as such, you know) My ignorance died. Tom Sawyer was so much fun! As an adult, who doesn’t want to go back to being a kid again? But, what was childhood like? It’s easy to forget. (How can something be missed yet forgotten all at the same time?) You, dear sir, reminded me! My memories were joggled of my own escapades and wild imaginings of when I was Tom’s age. It made my heart glow with satisfaction.
It did make me wonder, what was your childhood like? Who were the boys that inspired your writing? Tell me about them! They must have been a HOOT! You must have had so many adventures! What were some of your best memories? I imagine most of them were on the river fishing.
What inspired you for The Prince and the Pauper? It’s a different story and setting compared to those on the Mississippi River. What force drove you and wouldn’t let you go until it was finished? I am overwhelmed by curiosity!
Many thanks for the fun reading adventures. It saddens my heart that you are not able to create anymore. But the earth is blessed by what you have given us.