is a fine business letter opening. It is at least automatically recommended by Microsoft Word, whose eminent ancestor was the Word Perfect, & I vaguely remember having read that the lord said the Word, & that Word™ was good. It is at least unarguably the standard.
Thus I adjoin to you, Editor, a story. I ran through a Pilot fine tip pen’s worth of ink in the writing of this story. A Pilot pen is the only pen I feel comfortable writing with, because it is a writing standard, & I need to replace it with its singular reproduction if I am to continue writing, if I am to continue to be recognized as a writer.
I will require the funds necessary to maintain this writer image via the necessary brands of a writer, & by brands of a writer I mean the markers of a writer: the teeth stained brown by coffee (Intelligentsia), the teeth stained yellow by cigarettes (American Spirit), the fingers stained black by the shakes (#Intelligentsia #American Spirit) & ink (#Pilot), the eyes shot red by the effort to steel myself against the quotidian/imminent threat of failure (#Johnny Walker Red Label). I require the basic furnishings to write & the finances to advertise my rights as a writer, my writer face with the fine writer wrinkles on my forehead, furrowed by writer thoughts, like unto a gambler’s visage.
Hence I hereby gamble to you, gentle-handed Whomever. Let’s call this a hopeful transaction, transaction being a better word, a good™ word. Let’s call this a brave new leap into the world, the entrepreneurial world, of consumer art. I pitch this as a production, a product, something that fits an already established standard of excellence, something that would bear a standard excellently well, like a nude in a pin-up draped in a bold red flag.
A writer so often dies in poverty, but I, me, I cannot afford to do that, or rather, literally, I would rather like to afford a life, a happy life, a well-recompensed life. So I offer this pin-up, this saucy tale, because I should like some money. I should like some money now. I should like some recognition, now, & so I bear to you, gentle-handed holy foster father, or friend in fair weather, or Whomever It May Concern, I bear to you this standard, this standard fare.
P.S. I have recently had the good fortune to have a book published &, consequently, I have been practicing my signature. It is something like starting from scratch as – & I will admit this freely – Frank Quitely is my nom de plume. I must warn you, then, in all frankness, that my signature, if you should require it upon publication, bears some strangeness. My signature does not resemble my nom de plume. Instead it does, in fact, resemble the very words “Nom de plume.” Or almost. When thoughtless, when signing, my hand reproduces the words “de puta”. In Spanish, this would roughly translate to “of whore.” Reconstructed then, Frank Quitely would be something like my “whore name.” I entrust you with the exploitation of this fact at your total discretion.