Dear Jen (if that really is your name),
Are you fucking kidding me? This is absolutely the worst plot I’ve ever seen. In. My. Life. Do you really call yourself a writer? This is horrible. Terrible. Seriously, stop writing now and think of something else or take up a new hobby. I refuse to be party to this travesty of fiction, this horror, this pathetic attempt. I mean, first you make my love interest gay and therefore not interested in me. At all. And then, do you give me any time, even a little, to process that? No. You immediately have us all abducted by aliens. And that’s not all. You go and make the alien ship not actually a ship, but an alien being. A giant, ship-sized extra-terrestrial cuttlefish. Brilliant. And, to top it all off, you almost immediately have the gay dude killed off by yet another kind of alien. Not just any random alien, but a sort of large time traveling dragonfly race that, for some odd reason, you decided would be the source of the fairy legends on Earth. What?! And don’t think I haven’t peeked into your notes for the remainder of the book. Seriously, I have no interest in sacrificing myself and my child for the good of humanity. I suspect you were trying to pull off what you thought was an ingenious plot twist, but I have one word for you. Lame. Lamelamelame. And I refuse to participate. Why don’t you go and write something fun? Like superheroes or rock stars or something? Better yet, go back to your knitting and leave me alone. Hey, here’s an idea. Thanksgiving is next week. Why don’t you go write up a menu and a grocery list. That, at least, is something I know you’re capable of pulling off.