The Visionary Author

Old John Davis sat at his computer every day, where incredible worlds poured from his head. His wrinkled fingers danced quickly over the keyboard and his grey hair flopped over his face. His wife used to always ask him if he could even see the screen in front of him, and most likely he couldn't. But it also didn't really matter. The words he wrote created a movie-like picture, flowing through the pages. The words themselves didn't matter, more the story he was telling.

John would often get letters, detailing the gratefulness of a nation obsessed with his books. He read each one, inspired by their names and how they spoke. He'd create characters, imagines of the emotional, heartfelt words he so cherished.

But eventually, people stopped sending those letters, grown and matured, bored of his fairytales. The few letters he did get asked for something else, something new. So he tried. He wrote a tragic story of an old man stricken with grief from his son's passing, painting his pain on an old, yellowed canvas.

But they didn't like this book either, instead turning against the author for being too dark, too sad. He got one letter that stood out, one that told him he had lost his touch. His gift was gone, he was no good. And poor old John believed it.

So he stopped writing, instead focusing on his garden. He was never so good at floriculture, but over the years he learned. And he would sit on his porch with his old hound and his flowers. Until one day he got a letter.

It was addressed to the pen name he had abandoned long ago. The paper, graced with the words of a young child, brought tears to his eyes.

Dear John McDane (my favorite author),

I am writing this letter because I just finished all your books. They were good, I especially like the one with princess Nancy because she has the same name as me! I think that’s very cool. I would also like to live in a big castle and be a princess, but my mom says she can’t afford it. 

I want to read another one, my mom won’t let me read the newest one, she says it’s not very good. I don’t think that’s true, all your books are great! Could you write me another one? Maybe one with a fish, cause that’s my favorite animal. Anyway, thank you very much, Mr. John.

-Nancy (like the princess)

Old John Davis sat at his computer every day, right until he finished his final book. He decided to make the cover art too, a sweet rendition of a little fish princess. And he wrapped it up and sent it to the address of his last fan. And he wrote a small letter, asking them to keep believing.

Dear Nancy,

I very much appreciate your letter. You probably don’t know this, but I haven’t gotten a letter in a long time. I will cherish your kind words. 

I’m glad you like my books, a lot of people used to. Nowadays, I’d say you’re the only one. I think you may have a taste for good literature. 

I’ve never written a story about a fish princess before, so I hope you excuse any misinformation I may have written. I did a fair share of research, I see why you like them. The book is quite long, but I think you’ll like it. And don’t worry Ms. Mom, it has a very happy ending.

I hope you continue to read, it’s a great skill. I also hope that you grow up to someday write for yourself, all the prince and princess stories you can think of. Keep your imagination kid, it’ll get you far.

-John McDane (AKA your favorite author)

Old John Davis spent his last days happy. He finally got the hang of gardening, his flowers surviving the summer for the first time. And he continued to draw, often art derived from his book. But sometimes, when he was hit with inspiration, he’d draw something new, a story that once, long ago, he would have written an entire book about. But instead, he kept it to himself.

He often thought of his wife, who he’d lost many years prior. He imagined reuniting with her, in whatever came after life. And he’d dream of dancing with her, their old song conquering the silence in the room. And he’d buy her a new dress, the one he could never afford before, red and velvety. She’d always said, in a life far from her own understanding, she knew of one thing, her love of that dress, and her love for John.

He also got a few more letters from Nancy, detailing how much she loved the book, and once even including a short story of her own. John enjoyed reading her story, seeing how much it resembled his own, but with her style. 

Not too long after, Old John Davis, his hound, and his garden lay silent. Nancy continued to send letters through her teen years, always hoping for a response. She sent him every story she wrote and talked about how much his writings helped her. Eventually, she stopped, letting Old Man John rest in peace. 

Nancy grew up to be an author, as John had predicted. She wrote fairy tales and fantasies, all with the signature happy ending she had been taught by the long-gone author. And every book she wrote included a little thank you.

I want to thank my mom, for always supporting me. And my friends for encouraging me. But most of all, I want to thank John McDane and his stories. If it weren’t for his books, I may not have found my love for literature. And if it weren’t for his kind words, I wouldn’t have had the guts to continue writing. He often told me of his dog, Biscuit. So I hope he’s off somewhere, in a fairy tale of his own, with Biscuit.