My friend, Juliana L. Brandt is running a Warm Fuzzies BlogFest. The idea is that a lot of writers all blog about the same subject and make new friends. The subject:
Do I tell people I’m a writer?
Yes, I do. I listen to the conversation like a crow perched on a fence, and as soon as I spot an opportunity, I’m in there like a ferret down a rabbit hole.
Me: I haven’t seen you for ages. How are you?
Her: I could be better. You know I’ve been in hospital…
I didn’t know.
Yes, I fell and broke my hip. It seems I have brittle bones.
My, my. What was the hospital like?
St. Vincents. The doctors are wonderful; the nurses are run off their feet.
How long were you in there?
Six weeks. I couldn’t wait to get out.
I expect you read a lot.
(You can see where I’m going with this.)
I read everything on the Man Booker list.
I’ve been doing a bit myself.
No, writing. I’ve published two books.
No! So if I went to my local bookshop would I find your books on the shelves?
Well, no. I’ve self-published and only eBooks so far.
Ah! You mean you have to have one of those thingmebobs–
–to read your books.
Not really. You can read them on a computer if you don’t have a kindle.
But I do so love the feel of a real book, don’t you?
The answer to that question is YES, of course, but I’ve no intention of shooting myself in the foot, so I change the subject at that point.