Dear Tracy

I've been reading, and indeed writing, erotica for more years than I care to remember and I can quite honestly say that I have never come across anyone so perfectly suited to the genre as yourself.

Your whole demeanour simply oozes sexual inadequacy. Your spelling and syntax too, are admirably suited to producing work of the woefully low standard required. In fact Tracy,  I find it hard to believe that you're a novice to the adult writing genre. I've no reason to doubt you of course, but as soon as I began reading your letter I instantly assumed that I was dealing with a low-life, talentless, sexual inadequate with at least 4 or 5 risible, poorly written, self published, smutty novellas under her belt. In fact I'd stake my reputation that you've at least one, or perhaps, even a number, of convictions for sexual offences ranging from lewd conduct in a public place to accessing child pornography on the internet.

My advice to you is to abandon all hope of being taken seriously as a writer of any substance and to scrawl down a load of old toot that's about as arousing as a kick up the arse. Then simply dig out a pic of  a bloke with a muscular physique or some tart with her bare arse partially submerged in a lake to accompany it, before coughing up around a grand to some licensed bandit to get it published. All you have to do then is to wait patiently while absolutely nothing happens, apart from having the odd sex beast masturbating through your letter box.

All the very best in what promises to be a highly successful, albeit deeply depressing career, in the pathetically written and laughably unarousing,  grumble publication industry.

Angie Gash

Cockermouth.