We rarely choose our favourite characters at random. Something in them recognised something in us — a courage we hope for, a wound we share, a way of being in the world we'd like to borrow. This prompt asks you to write them a short letter, in your real voice, about that recognition.
The letter is for you. They won't read it.
Writing a letter to a fictional character lets you speak honestly to a 'safe' figure. You can say what you'd like to receive, ask what you'd like to know, or thank them for getting you through a chapter of your life. The character is usually a quiet mirror; what you write to them often tells you something you needed to say to yourself.
Useful when you've finished a book or show that landed deeply, in stretches when you're not sure what to write about, or when honesty with real people feels too sharp. A wonderful entry for shy or private journalers, and one that often unlocks something direct.
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Greet them by name, as if writing to a friend.
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Name what about them you recognise in yourself.
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Thank them for something specific they carried you through.
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Ask one question you'd actually want answered.
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Sign off in your real voice, not a literary one.
Other ways to ask the same thing
“What would you write to the character who's stayed with you most?”
“Who from a story would you write to and why?”
“What letter is owed to a fictional friend?”
It's tempting to perform literary cleverness. Don't. The letter is more useful if it sounds like you, slightly embarrassed to be writing it. The character won't mind. The point is the honesty the form unlocks — you may be more direct here than in any 'serious' entry this month.
Dear Marilla,
I recognise the part of you that loved fiercely without saying it out loud, because you didn't have words for it and were afraid of getting them wrong. I have the same instinct. I'm trying to learn how to say the warm things plainly while there's still time. Thank you for showing me that strict love can also be the deepest love — I think you saved me from a very lonely version of adulthood. My question: how did you let yourself be loved back, in the end? I'm still figuring that part out.
With respect,
N.