I was out to dinner a few weeks ago. One of those "I-hope-I-don't-see-anybody-I-know" dinners. Not that I am anti-social, but I was sharing a table for two in a quiet corner and romance was dancing on the china and silver. It was the sort of evening where you do not want to talk shop or even casually speak about the ordinary. Ah, but we do not write the script of life and how well I know it because this fact is always the seasoning of my writing. Too bad I do not pay attention to my own stuff. Anyway...we were interrupted (in a good way) not by a fire alarm or an x-spouse or worse. The table next to us took on two new diners and I recognized one of the women and she me. There was that second of eyes connecting when I knew I couldn't bypass her without stopping. My companion was gracious and stepped aside. The woman shook my hand and offered her name which I had lost somewhere in my brain datafile. I know you she said...you are the author. Ah yes, I am and the conversation swirled around books and signings and spring releases and all that good stuff. As we exited the restaurant my companion said..."You are famous"...hmmm not yet. "What will I do when you are?" "Do you like paparazzi?" I asked. "I could get used to them," he said. Stay tuned...
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