Maybe this happens to you all the time.
Yesterday, I was introducing myself to another parent at the roller rink. And a friend standing nearby asked if I were skating too. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve been at my computer so much this week, I need to move.”
And this father, who knew nothing about me other than I’m a mom of a speed skater, said, “Why do you spend so much time at the computer? Are you a writer?”
Of all the people who have heard me say something about spending too much time with my laptop, no one has ever asked me if I’m a writer. They’ve asked what company I work for. They’ve asked if I teach. They’ve asked what I did that required so much computer time. Never has someone looked at me seriously and asked, “Are you a writer?”
My first impulse was to say, “Oh! Do I look like one?”
My second impulse was to lie. Well, it wouldn’t be a lie. I am a teacher. But I still thought of just dropping the writing bit of my life for the conversation.
But I said, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
And then I realized he’d probably ask me what I’d published–and inwardly I groaned at my foolishness.
But he didn’t. He asked as if it were the most normal question in the world, “What kinds of stories do you write?”
I find that question—-are you a writer—-difficult to answer. Do you? Or did you ever? And if you used to, but don’t anymore, why did it change?
And I’ve got an excerpt of story 21! Ten more stories to go.