My dearest work in progress,

I do not know how to tell you this, so I will be frank: This morning I cheated on you with another, older manuscript. I know that this is a shock, but let me explain.

We spent an entire summer together several years ago, and although our relationship died after 350 pages and several fruitless attempts at revision, I have thought of it with fondness ever since. It wasn’t the book, it was me; I just wasn’t ready. The timing was off.

Heartbroken and disillusioned, I tried to begin again, but my job kept interfering. And then, finally, my schedule slowed. Around that time I found you. You were perfect: fresh, funny, interesting. I loved you from the start, and it seemed as if you liked me, too. Even at my busiest, my crabbiest, you did not go away, but simply waited for me to return to you, begging for forgiveness.

We’ve been together for a while now, and although we’ve had our moments, things have been great. Really great. But you and I have been going through a difficult time. I’d begun to lose my faith in our future. I knew that if I stuck it out our relationship had potential, but another part of me yearned for something new. And then, this morning, it came back: the manuscript I had loved so long ago.

What had seemed tired and worn so long ago now appeared fresh and new. We’d both matured, learned so much, since we last met. I found myself excited again. I couldn’t wait to write. The characters began to chatter in my head, demanding my attention.

I couldn’t help it. Before I could make myself turn away, I had typed nearly a thousand words, examined the characters’ goals and motivations, and begun to rework the plot. Meanwhile, you languished away in my hard drive. I returned to you, yes. I even added 408 new words, but then I cast you aside once again.

I make no excuses. Shortly after you and I met, I vowed to stay true to you until the end, forsaking all other manuscripts. And so I have done, despite occasional temptation. But now that my former love has returned to my life, full of the potential only time and maturity can give it, I know that I cannot give it up again. The thing is, I love you both. You are so different, yet you each intrigue me, demand my attention and affection.

And so, with your blessing, I will continue seeing it, just on the side, and just on occasion. You, as always, will be of utmost importance in my life. And when you leave, as I know you must, this one will be here, waiting for me. Please say that you will agree to this arrangement, will not abandon me to my fickle ways. Please?

Love,
Your Writer