The studious reader will have noted the link in the sidebar entitled “Letters to Peter” and quite possibly that reader will have wondered why I write letters to myself and post them here. The answer is that, thankfully, I haven’t written myself at all, or if I have, I haven’t posted it here for eyes other than those of the addressee. In the narrative of The Fiddler’s Gun, Fin Button has multiple occasions to write letters home to her good friend, Peter LaMee. So in the time leading up to the release of the book, I thought it would be fun to discover what news she may have written to tell him about.
Therefore, I have scoured the musty old libraries of the eastern seaboard and crept among stacks of papers and boxes of long-forgotten correspondence found in the back rooms of small town archives. I have ventured to a ghost town of a place called Ebenezer in the wilds of eastern Georgia to pry up floorboards and search amid the webs of a thousand scattering spiders. I have braved the dank blackness of cellars dug when whispers of revolution filled the houses above them and peeled back secret doors that once hid the frail and the young from soldiers fierce to quell murmurs of independence.
And though I often met with disappointment and failure and many times came away from some time-worn repository of documentary gold empty-handed and weary, I have, in the end, spirited away a precious small number of treasures. These hand-written letters have defied the threat of decay and neglect to find themselves in my careful hands and I shall do my best to honor their long-suffering by diligently transcribing their nearly-lost tales.
Though most are letters from Fin Button to Peter LaMee, I have found others that bear mention as well. In due time I will allow them to find their place with Fin and her tale and in the end we shall see what stories they tell of their authors and those age-old days of revolution.