I was sent some hate mail, and some fan mail; this is what those two letters reminded me about confidence and self-belief
I got a letter from a reader telling me they hated me and my writing, on the same day that I got a letter full of praise. The letters taught me a lesson I can apply to my writing, and all of life.
When I was in England last week, I was quite surprised to receive two handwritten letters, both written in response to the piece ‘Fifty Things I’ve learned at 50’ I wrote for you here:
It was a novelty to read real-life letters, especially as the rest of the mail I picked up was a brown envelope from HMRC, always a heart-sinker, and another from Specsavers reminding me I’m overdue an eye examination, which was not exactly thrilling.
I didn’t open the letters until I got to DC, as the days in England were so busy; I always feel slightly high and sleepless in England, fed by jet-lag and an overwhelming longing to see as many people as possible in the space of the few days I have there. Even twenty minutes with an old friend is like super-charged love nourishment, which sustains me when I’m back in America unsure of when I’ll see them again. Distance from friends is absolutely the thing I find hardest about living abroad and is the reason I couldn’t do it long-term. I’d find the distance from those people I’ve loved the longest impossible to tolerate long-term, however gilded the trappings of another life in a new land might be.
Anyway this meant I didn’t read the letters until I got back to DC, my suitcase exploded on my bedroom floor where Dash and Lester had rummaged through to find the Double Deckers and Love Hearts I’d brought them, the air-conditioning humming, reminding me I was definitely not in England any more. So, finally still, in my bedroom, I sat on the bed, threw the Specsavers envelope away, wearily saved the one from HMRC, then opened the other two. They were hand written letters, and reading them both surprised and then shocked me, in their own ways.