People at church don’t know what I do. Well, they know I’m a writer, and they know I go to conferences to see people and do book signings. That’s about it. The pen name is not up for public consumption. One of the ladies, a friend but not close enough that I’d give her my pen name, told me I should make sure my kids know what I do and that people read my books. That they should be proud of me. I laughed and explained that my kids know. In fact, it’s no big deal to them. They know so many writers, it’s a norm to them. I think it’s a lot like movie stars’ kids—not that I’m equating myself to a movie star. Not hardly. But my kids know a lot of people in the industry. Being a writer is a completely attainable dream to them.
My younger son still thinks it’s pretty interesting though. He tells his friends and this is how it usually goes:
“So and so wants to read your book.”
“So and so isn’t eighteen. You have to be eighteen.”
Older son pipes in. “Hey, you were reading Harlequins when you were twelve. You told me.”
“I don’t write Harlequins.”
Younger son, “So what’s your web address again?”
“Hey, I think it’s time for you to go do the dishes.”
We have various versions of this conversation several times a year. My older son is on to me. Just last night, we were talking about one of his friends. I mentioned he’s a nice kid (translation: you can invite him over. I think you should keep hanging out with him)
And he says to me (brat), “Yeah, Pablo thinks you guys are cool. I had to tell him all the reasons you’re not.”
Sigh. Thank you. Thank you very much.
I think he secretly likes me.
Anyway…a little middle school humor. Today, I got a permission slip for an end of the year trip for the younger son. It was pretty straight forward. A description of the trip and all the necessary details. Then I got to the bottom of page 2. “Please consider being a chaperon. There’s nothing better than spending the day with your child and a bus full of eighth graders.”
Somehow, I’m not sold. LOL.