T is for Them Trolls Who Should Write Better Letters

‘Greetings and Unsolicitations!’

Thanks for dropping in.

Have you ever been published in the press? No? Well neither have I. The aim of this blog is to change that and share my experiences with you along the way.

If you like, you can try it with me and tell me how you are getting on.

So, it’s publish or be damned on here. Step by step we will try our hardest, our damndest, to understand it all, learn it all and write ourselves into the papers.

So I’ll make a promise. If I come across something I don’t understand or I think needs some explanation, I’ll tell it all on here. You can watch my struggles and then try it for yourself.

And you’ll probably be better at it than me.

T is for Them Trolls Who Should Write Better Letters

Last Episode: Of Diaries and Ants

I have a confession to make to you: I have not sent any of Harley’s letters to the West Briton.

This evening, as we were kicking the punt-about in the garden, just before sundown, he looked at me and asked me about the ants: ‘Have the ants gone, Grandad?’  I told him that they were in bed and so should he be. Then cursed myself; I had not sent that letter and I never will.

But, how could I tell him? I could not bear to see his two year old face melt into disappointed tears like last week’s Sky Ray.

By sending in that letter, the editor of the West Briton might consider us the public nuisance and not the ants, flues and wasps. That was my dilemma. We might be considered – trolls.  And, in the end, being thought a troll was a risk I dare not take if I was ever to meet her.

Picture the situation; sitting across from her, a desk in between us and, as I delicately ask if she would consider a feature I had written, she would produce them. Our letters of spite and bile, evidence of our trolling. No, it could never be.

Instead of sending Harley’s complaints, therefore, I have busied myself with writing sombre questions and serious letters this week. Questions to ask the editor should I be granted an audience and, of course, the begging letter itself. In fact letters have been on my mind quite a lot this week.

As a teacher of English, I often am faced with the unenviable task of…well, teaching. Oh, the inconvenience, oh the heartache. Only this afternoon I was faced with teaching a wretched and recalcitrant group of year 10 boys the art of letter writing. You know, the format, the protocols, the conventions…until one boy gave up, farted loudly and said: ‘What the f*ck? I’ll just text or send an email’.

He had a point. When was the last time any of us actually sat down and composed a letter? It’s just not done.

I remember growing up; Christmas and birthdays being dominated by writing endless and formulaic thank you letters on ‘Notelets’ because there was less space to fill. Oh the agony and the ecstasy. Nowadays we’d just absentmindedly ‘like’ the person on Facebook. That will do. That will show enough effort.

So, bugger it. I sat down and instead of emailing the editor of West Briton, I wrote a very careful letter – sweated over it, you understand? Reproduced below. What do you think? Would that bowl a maiden over? It better had – still no nearer to being published.

Task accomplished, Harley and I lay on the carpet and discussed the sorts of questions we might ask in order to get published. This took longer that you might think. Harley favoured more topic based questions whereas I was trying to intellectually stimulate my virtual interviewee.

I offer you the chance to choose which questions should be used. Simply email us with your preference and I’ll do the rest.

PETE	HARLEY
How would you describe your target readership / audience?	Is Thomas or Gordon better?
Do you, as a publication, have any political affiliations?	Can I have Little Thomas for my birthday?
Which topics most interest the readers of the publication?	I need a Thomas playset.
Do you have many off-diary articles, stories, features?	Where are the ants?
What sort of unsolicited stories are more likely to be considered for publication?	Can we play football in the garden?

Harley admits that his third question is actually a declarative, but its heart is in the right place – a probing and apposite statement of intent.

So – the letter is sent. The questions are written. We await with anticipation the result. Even as I type this evening it is probably in the in-tray like a hot potato.

Next time I write, if I write, I will have the results for you. I could boil an egg I’m that excited.

See you soon I hope!!

Wonderful Words!
Advertorial	An advert disguising itself cunningly as an editorial feature – the swine.
Chief Sub	A very important journalist indeed – of the type we hope to interview.
Hack / Hackette	A jokey term for journalists. Not that we would ever troll or annoy these wonderful people.

The Letter Challenge

Another way of getting published in the press is, of course, to write to their letters page. I challenge you to write, once a week, to see how long it takes. Your letter must come in at 100 words. Please send successful letters to the Blog where I will publish the best ones.

For my part, I shall use suggestions from my two year old Grandson, Harley. This week he has mostly been worried about ants.

As we read, so we learn J

This Week: Squirrel Nutkin

Dear Editor,

My Grandfather and I are great fans of the books of Beatrix Potter. Although we haven’t bothered to check, we imagine she did not visit Cornwall when researching her seminal text, ‘Squirrel Nutkin’.

Why? I’ll tell you why. A damn great Cornish squirrel, this very evening, came into our garden, inconsiderately dug up a load of grass and did a dump where I play. Disgraceful behaviour indeed; it has besmeared the reputation of all squirrels. There was no reference, in ‘Squirrel Nutkin’, to any squirrels acting in this disgusting fashion.

Quite frankly, I’m appalled by Cornish squirrels. And so, I fear, would Ms Potter be.

Yours sincerely,