Monday, July 28, 2003
Something interesting happened today.
There's a woman who comes into Starbucks every day. Unfortunately I don't know her name (sad, isn't it? I suck with names), but I know she always runs out of half-and-half at the condiment bar (it's a curse). I chat with her frequently enough. In any case, she was talking to Jon about doing what you love as a profession, and I overheard her say:
"People ask, is writing work? You know, is it really work if you're writing what you want to write?"
To which I adamantly replied, "Yes, of course it's work -- it takes time and effort and energy, and it can be profoundly frustrating -- but it makes you happy, and it's what you want to do."
She nodded. "Yes, but is it the same as a job? It's not like going to work..."
"No," I said, "it is different. But just because you love it doesn't mean it's not work."
She agreed heartily and asked, "What do you write?"
I stalled for a moment. "Um... er, well..."
She prodded, "Do you write short stories, or poetry...?"
"I write fan fiction."
"Oh!" she said. "What sort?"
"Harry Potter. I've written novel-length Harry Potter fan fiction, OK, I admit it."
She grinned. "I used to write Star Wars fan fiction."
She asked what else I'd written, and I explained that most of my current writing was simply fanfic. I mentioned the sundry other things I'd once had on our old computer, but that had been removed in the Great Delete. She appeared appalled at my loss. I was touched, but I told her that most of my stuff I wouldn't have allowed to be read by anyone, anyway.
She asked, "Do you let other people read your fan fiction then?"
"Well, yes," I said, "I co-write with another person, and if you Googled my name you'd find all of my stuff archived at various places online."
"Really? What's your name again?"
A few moments later I handed her a slip of paper with my name spelled correctly on it. She took her drink and thanked me, and told me she looked forward to reading my stories.
Once she'd left, I turned to Jon and said, "I can't believe I just did that."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I never give out my name so people can read my writing. I mean... yeah. I just don't do that."
Jon shrugged. "Well, it could be a good thing -- she's been published several times, so maybe she'll help you out if you need help, or something."
I stared, open mouthed. Published? I just sent an author to find my writing and read it? Am I insane?
Of course, I'm not even sure what sort of things she's written or published, and since I don't know her name, I can't look her up online. But she's going to look me up.
This ought to be interesting, indeed.
| 12:01 AM |
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