I like to read, and I write. I’m an aspiring writer. No, actually, I’m a real writer. Yes, I can tell him that.
At the cafe, I did tell the guy I’m a writer, and he took it seriously, even though I told him I’ve never published anything I consider substantial, such as a book. I just had a blog and it was getting very little traffic.
I asked him, “What about you? Do you write?” I was truly curious.
“Nah. I just like to read other people’s stuff,” he said with a laugh. Then he added thoughtfully, “I guess I could be an author if I wanted to or tried.”
He told me he had a “real job” which took up a lot of his time. I asked him, “What kind of real job?” He didn’t tell me what kind of job he had, but he did tell me that it’s not something he wanted to do for much longer.
