Having recently discovered that my far-from-cutting-edge old Android phone can run the Google Docs app with only occasional (5 or 6 an hour) crashes, I’ve begun writing during my commute the last few weeks. It started with some fanfiction I’d begun awhile back and never finished, and led me back to the novel I haven’t touched in a couple of years.
This morning, I was on the Green Line rethinking a scene that wasn’t quite working for me, when the young woman sitting next to me said, “I don’t mean to be reading over your shoulder, but what are you writing?”
My very first thought upon hearing this? Thank all the forgotten Gods this didn’t happen yesterday. Yesterday, I was working on a sex scene.
I told her about my project — because, really, what writer doesn’t like to be asked about her writing? It turns out, she’s a writer, too. Poetry and superhero fiction and comic books. We shared a lovely bit of commiseration about the mid-book slog before she went back to her in-progress SMS conversation.
Nice way to start the day.