Letters to Heaven, continued

I'm not sure how to start this letter.

Dear Mrs. Andrews,

That's clearly too formal. I would have never called you that.

Dear Cleo,

No. I didn't even know your first name until I Googled it a few minutes ago. By the way, why did you switch your initials for your penname? Was that your decision or a publisher's? 

Dear V.C. Andrews,

That's all I've ever called you, but it seems strange in a salutation.

Dear author who I never met but who changed my life forever,

There. That will do.

You are the reason I am a reader. You are the reason dyslexia didn't win the battle. You are the reason that I persevered (and continue to do so) when I have to reread and slow down and reread again and move a tracker and sometimes a finger. You are the reason that even at its most frustrating I STILL love to read.

Well, I guess my mom deserves some of the credit. If she hadn't told me I wasn't allowed to read that filth, you wouldn't be the reason. And I may not have turned out a reader. So I guess it was teamwork on both your parts.

Now, don't be offended by her harsh words. As I got older she said some pretty harsh things about Stephen King too, but by then she had given up on trying to dictate the subject matter of my reading obsession. She told me once that I was going to turn into a psychopath if I didn't read something else, but I'm pretty sure she was just kidding. Pretty sure.

The day I left my book out on the coffee table and she read an excerpt from Flowers in the Attic, she threw it away. She didn't ask me where I got it or tell me to take it back. She just threw it away. And that was the end of that. At least she thought it was. OH NO! I didn't know which page she had read (I had just started the book), but I was damned sure going to find out. 

I dug that book out of the trash and read like I had never read before. I was fascinated by any story that could work my mother into such a frenzy, and I was quickly captivated by Cathy. I couldn't get enough. I read all five books as fast as I could get my hands on them. It was my first exposure to Gothic writing, and something inside me twisted and turned in response to such darkness. 

I read your other books as well, but it was Cathy Dollanganger who pulled me over to the dark side and taught me to lose myself in a book. For that, I will always be grateful. 

I still enjoy reading the dark and twisty. I've devoured my fair share of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Richard Matheson, and Jack Ketchum just to name a few of my favorites. Anne Rice introduced me to vampires, but I never took that love beyond her work. But you...you were my first. You were the first to use words to give me chills as I read by flashlight tucked under the covers safe in my bedroom. You gave me my love for a genre that even my mother has come to accept as perfectly harmless (now that I'm a grown woman...and probably not a psychopath). 

Thank you for dedicating your life to putting words together for others to enjoy. As a wannabe writer, I know that isn't easy. Thank you for giving us just enough of the forbidden and the taboo to make an 11 year-old girl dig through the trash and come out a reader. 

And thank you for Cory. And Carrie. And Cathy. And Chris. 

Sincerely,

Kristi, a grateful fan and lifelong reader