Some days, it seems as if everybody thinks they’re a writer. A few years back I was visiting my mother-in-law in Cherry Valley, California, where I spent the mornings writing at a local Starbucks. As I sat outside sipping my latte and working on my laptop, at least five people a day approached me to ask what I was doing. When I said I was a writer, most of the people proceeded to sit down and tell me their own writing dreams. Guess I just have one of those faces.
One woman, a teacher, hoped to retire and write full time. One man had already published a technical book but really wanted to write fantasy. Another man said, “Oh, my sister is a writer, too.” When I asked him what she wrote, he replied, “Oh, nothing yet. But she’s going to start soon.” Read more