The writer’s identity


My noon hour yesterday was much like many other noon hours at my day job.  I grabbed my computer, my wallet, and headed down the street to the local café-type establishment to quiet the beast inside (because yes, my stomach is a snarling, ferocious beast, foaming at the mouth as it waits, ever-impatient, for the victuals that will eventually slide into its gaping maw).  I took a seat, ordered my food, and withdrew my laptop from its handy-dandy carrying case to work on my story (and when that failed, to at least continue looking over one of five samples sent to me by a friend for some vicious red-penning).  As I was trying to solve a major plot problem (Ha!), a conversation caught my ear.  One of the waiters was discussing writing with the gal in the booth behind me.  He is a college student majoring in English; she is one of many people who have written a book, only to (likely) have it remain unseen by the masses, covered in dust, and taking up space in her home.  “But I sent it to so-and-so – he writes Christian books, you know – and he thought it was very good!” she proclaimed to half the bar, the waiter, and me.

Ignoring the woman, I asked the waiter what he enjoyed writing and what he wanted to do as a writer.  He was where my interest lay because he is at that point in his life where he still has the world at his fingertips and anything is possible.  Sure, anything is always possible, but at 28 with a husband and four kids, it’s not likely that I’ll be able to study abroad and learn French through immersion or spend a summer backpacking through Germany absorbing local culture anymore.  Anyway, he replied that he had wanted to be a novelist and he liked sci-fi, but that he’d been fighting depression and not writing as prolifically as he’d done before.  I mentioned that I’d just finished a fantasy novel and that my own depression had made me want to lock myself in my room to write.  Naturally, this piqued the woman’s interest, so she turned her curiosity away from the waiter and onto me.  “I’m sorry, what do you do?” Click here to find out!