Dearest Bard,

I apologize in advance for the coarseness of my language--your writings are timeless and transcendent, while mine makes a mockery of the public school system. But enough about me.

Tonight, you saved me, just as you've saved me many times before. Of course, you are probably used to being an agent of positivity for many (including Gwyneth Paltrow, which I have almost forgiven you for) but tonight, like never before, I felt a connection to you that was nearly euphoric. But why should I be surprised? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, while also pilfering some of your best known lines. My apologies.

My initial fascination with you was purely selfish. I must have been six or seven, looking at one of those books that tells you who you share your birthday with. It might have actually been "The Kids' World Almanac" (do they print that anymore?) which told me I shared my birthday with you and the 15th President of the US, James Buchanan. While I was devastated to learn that I had something in common with the only bachelor president, I was ecstatic to learn that you and I had that in common as well (Note: it was only much later that I learned that we also share our birthday with Vladimir Nabokov, but I suppose the Kids' World Almanac didn't think that was appropriate information for people in my age group).

Upon learning that my birth date was auspicious because it was shared with such a famous author, I wanted to find out what was so great about you. Through school and an ambitiousness that I seem to have left behind in my youth, I read many of your plays and even acted and directed a bit. I had the opportunity to act in a modern interpretation of "Much Ado About Nothing" as Benedick (!), an experience that still leaves me exhilarated. I then got to play Margaret in the same play, though a different production, which was a bit strange and anticlimactic. I think she was a bit overlooked--made out to be little more than a plot device, but maybe that was just a fault of the staged interpretation.

The following year was perhaps the last time you and I worked together until now. I directed a scene from Henry V, and also, more importantly, performed a scene from Henry IV part i as...Falstaff. It was one of the strangest casting decisions ever made, but to this day, I am honored to have played one of your most iconic characters. I even received an award for it--kind of a tongue in cheek award, but one I treasure.

However, it has been ten years, almost exactly, since I've really immersed myself in your amazing stories and luxurious prose. Of course, I've seen some movies and a few staged adaptations of your work--a few have been amazing (Much Ado, Branagh's Hamlet), and some of have been truly terrible (Julie Taymor's Titus which, to be honest, wasn't great in terms of its source material anyway...I was pretty apathetic about all the characters, most of all Lavinia which I think was probably not your aim). But here I'm being incredibly arrogant--even the worst of your writing bests any of my efforts and will continue to dwarf me in the future.

In a way, though, that's kind of comforting in two ways. The first--well, it's sort of a relief to admit to myself that there is a level of excellence that I can't even consider aspiring to because it's completely out of my league. It keeps me humble and keeps me grounded in reality. The second comfort is that, if I need a reference point or inspiration, your work is incalculably valuable.

Which brings me to tonight. This week, I have been near tears trying to put together a piece of work that won't completely humiliate me. My writing partner has been incredibly helpful, but her talent completely eclipses mine and I don't think she has any idea how hard it is for people who are not naturally gifted writers to put together something that adequately represents their ideas. So this has been a huge struggle for me--who are my characters? Who can I identify, what do I want them to do, what kind of a plot is streamlined enough to be understandable but dense enough to be interesting?

In discussing a character of mine, my writing partner and I reached a turning point, changing some of his most significant attributes to something more palatable to me--and something exploded in me like fireworks. The plot, the characters, the arc, the conflict, everything clicked and I think I smiled for the first time today. I had completely internalized one of your plays, and it was manifesting itself in my work. Unlike finer writers who want to be completely original, I am honored that my subconscious was smart enough to find its way to your work as a source of inspiration.

My faith in you in unmeasurable, and now I know that this can be a success because your work is the perfect backbone. I feel a renewed sense of creativity, and feel the impact of your mentorship even though we are centuries apart. So thank you for your amazing work and genius. We'll have a great birthday this year.

Sincerely,
A Different Dark Lady