Are You A Writer?
Yesterday, I was running errands-- I went to the library, signed some books at the Babbling Book, mailed a letter, and grocery shopped. My last stop was Dejon Delights to buy some of that derby king salmon for dinner. I figured I'd cook a nice meal for everyone before I left for Homer today and the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference. Anyway, I was in the car, about to back out, when a couple came toward the window and the woman asked, "are you a writer?" "Sort of," I said. If, as Annie Dillard wrote, how we spend our days is how we spend our lives, this week I have been a gardener, a cook, a cleaning lady, a farmer, a babysitter, a cyclist (the annual Kluane to Chilkat bike race is next week and we are training) and a finish carpenter. (There is a new sink and countertop in the bathroom and I'm varnishing the trim and filling the nail holes.) I'm not sure where chatting with the hunter who was skinning a black bear in my garage means, but it is all part of whatever is going on around here. Of course I didn't say any of that to the nice couple who asked if I was a writer, instead, after "sort of" I asked, "why?" Turns out they were on the cruise ship docked down the hill, and had traveled here because they read my books. They had been to many of the places I mention in them. How about that? It was very nice to meet them, and to think my stories about life here were compelling to folks from Kansas. After we parted, I had one more errand to run. I had to pick up a package at the airport. It was the Sunday New York Times courtesy of the Skaguay News Depot. (You can't buy the Times in Haines.) In it there was an ad for the paperback of Take Good Care of the Garden and the Dogs. Maybe that means I am a real writer? I'm hoping to be, as soon as I feed the chicks, put another coat of varnish on the trim and water the garden.