A couple of days ago I received the below e-mail from somebody called peterbd. The subject was ‘relieved’. (Since originally posting this, I’ve added the subsequent correspondence).
you are tom fletcher and you appear to be a writer. i know nothing about you. are you a good writer? i have no clue. you seem like one though. i can tell because i googled you. i made the mistake of typing tom fletcher sans writer after your name. on my screen came a tom fletcher who isn’t like you. this tom fletcher looks like he’s trying too hard. fucking insane. i like my tom fletcher’s to not have highlights. no look at me attitude. your the REAL tom fletcher dammit. and i’m the captain of the tom fletcher crew. do you write poetry? fiction? nonfiction? don’t have the slightest the clue. what do you care anyway. your at the top of your game probably. i’m just a little person for whom you don’t have time. life for tom fletcher must be sublime. you seem like a sophisticated londoner. maybe i’m wrong but you exude high class energy. you would never associate with me. i’m from the bottomless pit known as new jersey. so tom fletcher who is allegedly from london and is not the freak who originally came up on my google search. please continue writing and purging your hurt. the world needs you. there’s only one you. when i find the time to pick up one of your books my life will change guaranteed. as i flip through the pages i’ll never curse the day of discovering this gem. but mostly i’ll be relieved. relieved that that tom fletcher the writer i don’t hate like that imposter vehemently.