Dear Mr. Alexie,
First of all, I’ve read your book, “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian.” Twice. Second of all, we had an entire unit on you in American Literature last year. My professor told us that you’re sensitive about your big head (I think it looks fine on Google Images), and that you often get marriage proposals during book signings.
But to reach my point, there was a ticket waiting for me in the Multicultural Center. I could have driven down to St. Cloud with a group of other students, I could have chatted with students from other schools at a reception, I could have listened to you give a lecture, and then I could have made a fool out of myself asking for your autograph.
Instead, sir, I’m sitting on campus like the boring, scholastically responsible person that I am. You see, in order to meet you, I would have had to skip two classes, work, and a meeting. And I just couldn’t do it, not even for one of my favorite writers. I’m telling myself right now, as I prepare to take an online statistics quiz, that I’ll have another chance to meet you. I’m telling myself that if I truly do go to graduate school and become a professor and a writer, then I’ll surely run into you somewhere down the literary line. I hope so.
In the meantime, please don’t accept any marriage proposals.