A year and a week ago, this little novella about writing letters and owning your stories and recognising a touch of magic came out.
I wasn’t prepared, there was no great fanfare. I was too busy getting married and changing jobs and moving interstate. But I am still proud of my strange little story. It is quirky and multi-layered, and I still feel a deep affection for the curmudgeonly old man, the neurotic young woman, the pink tracksuit villain and the ugly philosopher who populate its pages.
One of the nicest and least expected outcomes of this book being published has been the international community of letter-writing friends that has opened up for me. Early on in the process, I promised to write a personal letter of thanks to anyone who bought a copy of Airmail (I still do).
People would email me their addresses and I’d send them off little thank-you notes and letters. Some of them would write back, offering me snippets into their worlds from far away. Over time, the word spread and people began to know me as someone who sends old-fashioned mail. People asked me to be their pen pals. I can’t tell you how precious this is.
So, to everyone who has bought a copy of Airmail, written me a letter, read this blog, or supported my writing in so many other ways, thank you. Truly!
I always thought that having your fiction published would be the ultimate, but it wasn’t. It’s the way we reach each other, through a mutual love of storytelling and the written word, that means the most. It’s about you.