"As a VA nurse working with returning … vets," wrote Berg, "I know the public has no sense of the additional devastating human and financial costs of post-traumatic stress disorder." The nurse urged readers "to act forcefully to remove a government administration playing games of smoke and mirrors and vicious deceit."

A call to arms, in the classic tradition of American free speech. But Berg's letter also caught the eye of the FBI, who suspected her of sedition. The feds feared that the middle-aged nurse was beating the drums for violent revolution.

Berg's computer was seized. Put on the watch list of the Patriot Act, she could be tailed and her phone tapped. Convicted of sedition—however unlikely—Berg could face time behind bars. Apparently, harassing people like Laura Berg is the FBI's newest strategy to ferret out terrorists [Loose Canon, "What's in Your File?" March 16, 2006].

So when does the nurse get off the offical list of evildoers? Earlier this year, the ACLU filed a Freedom of Information request on Berg's behalf, which may provide a hint.

Danger. Warning. Highly inflammable material. Newspaper letters can catch fire, and explode. Which is what makes them so powerful, and so much fun. Seems that Berg's scary tale hasn't doused the fire in a couple dozen local letter writers, who met recently for an evening of pizza and strategizing (courtesy of Media Tank, a local media watchdog group).

Leading this letter brigade was Monique Frugier—a funny and elegant woman of a certain age who's utterly convinced of her convictions. Every day is Bastille Day for Frugier. Her missives regularly hit the pages of The New York Times and The Philadelphia Inquirer. Frugier takes such obvious pleasure in writing, that should the FBI wonder about her, she'd likely bring them her scrapbooks (www.sauvessanges.com).

"This is an opportunity to speak out, so you must speak out," Frugier told the varied crowd, many of whom are now galvanized by the war.

Still, regardless of your agenda, if you want to get published, says Frugier, first read your target newspaper carefully—especially its letters. I know when I edited the City Paper, we'd drag out the biggest soapbox for someone who was responding to a specific story, especially written by a regular reader.

Best tactic: Scour a newspaper's stories for oversights. A newspaper may only be history's first draft, but we still hate to miss stuff. Blind spots happen, and a good paper hopes you'll care enough to reset their sights on what's important to you.

Housekeeping items count. Before you hit send, verify your facts. E-mail your letter to the right person (for City Paper, that's editorial@citypaper.net), and also send a courtesy copy to the reporter who wrote the story. Respond quickly. Send your letter as soon as a story is published.

And finally, keep it brief. Two hundred words of sparkling prose is better than a boatload of diatribe. And if your letter really sings, don't be surprised if you're asked to write an op-ed piece. (More of Frugier's tricks and tips are at: www.mediatank.org.)

Letter writing may seem like a quaint holdover from a gentler time. But the simple epistle can be a sharp tool that slices through media clutter. Even now, buried by blogs and slammed by newsfeeds, editors have a special love for the letter. More authoritative than an unedited blog, letters mostly come from a paper's most influential audience. These are the folks who give a damn.

To me, letter writers form the front line of a democratic society. People like Laura Berg and Monique Frugier are my heroes. Still, these citizen journalists cannot replace professional reporters. Working reporters can dig deeper, and are legally committed to protecting their sources.

So, do you have a story you need to tell? First, consider a letter. And then, if you still can't write it yourself, contact a reporter directly. That's my e-mail address below.