I’d be extremely flattered if you’d write a story exclusively for me sometime. I’m an avid reader.”
I told her I certainly would, if I could. I said that I wasn’t terribly prolific.
"It doesn’t have to be terribly prolific! Just so that it isn’t childish and silly." She reflected. "I prefer stories about squalor."
"About what?" I said, leaning forward.
"Squalor. I’m extremely interested in squalor.
I told her that I’d never written a story for anybody, but that it seemed like exactly the right time to get down to it.
She nodded. “Make it extremely squalid and moving,” she suggested. “Are you at all acquainted with squalor?”
I said not exactly but that I was getting better acquainted with it, in one form or another, all the time, and that I’d do my best to come up to her specifications."
— J.D. Salinger, For Esmé with Love and Squalor