But my favourite part came next. He was, he told me, an unpublished writer. He wrote his auto-biography and a diary - writing "kept in home." Ah, I said, writing is heart-work.; it is not dependent on publishing. I loved so much how he had announced himself a writer, although "all" he wrote was his own story. His adoration of writing gave him a claim to being a writer, and in no way did my four books make him feel smaller (as neither they should have; as traditionally published books should not make me feel small either.)
We talked a little longer about the joys of writing, he warned me not to read too avidly that I did not notice cars, and then we shook hands and went along our ways. And I am a writer : I thought the whole time how I was going to enjoy sharing this little interlude with my readers.
Friday link love.
Melissa Wiley has a wonderful book list for nine year olds.
Adolescence: a time of ashes.
Nine reasons Mr Knightley is better than Mr Darcy. Well obviously.
Storytelling, fake worlds, and the internet.
One family's experience with the Gardasil vaccine.
Suzi Crockford on the great conversation.
Fifty thought-provoking questions.