Unit Two

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There is something fascinating about reading other people's mail if you are allowed to. Here is your chance to read the letters of American writer Sylvia Plath, which she wrote home to her mother from a hotel where she had a summer job as a waitress. At the time, she was a college student and was still at the start of her writing career. Through the letter we learn of her changing thoughts and moods concerning, boys and writing.

THE BEGINNING OF A CARREER

Sylvia Plath
The Belmont Hotel, cape Cod
June 11, 1952
Dear Mother,
Your amazing telegram [telegram announcing $500 Mademoiselle prize for "Sunday at the Mintons," which I forwarded] came just as I was scrubbing tables in the shady interior of The Belmont dining room. I was so excited that I screamed and actually threw my arms around the head waitress who no doubt thinks I am rather insane! Anyhow, psychologically, the moment couldn't have been better. I felt tired -- one's first night's sleep in a new place never is peaceful -- and I didn't get much! To top it off, I was the only girl waitress here, and had been scrubbing furniture, washing dishes and silver, lifting tables, etc. since 8 a.m. Also, I just learned since I am completely inexperienced, I am not going to be working in the main dining room, but in the "side hall" where the managers and top hotel brass eat. So, tips will no doubt net much less during the summer and the company be less interesting. So I was beginning to worry about money when your telegram came. God! To think "Sunday at the Mintons" is one of two prize stories to be put in a big national slick! Frankly, I can't believe it!
The first thing I though of was: Mother can keep her intersession money and buy some pretty clothes and a special trip or something! At least I get a winter coat and extra special suit out of the Mintons. I think the prize is $500!
ME! Of all people!…
So it's really looking up around here, now that I don't have to be scared stiff about money … Oh, I say, even if my feet kill me after this first week, and I drop 20 trays, I will have the beach, boys to bring me beer, sun, and young gay companions. What a life.
Love, your crazy old daughter.

Sivvy

June 12. 1952