Regular Life

(update on Shannon’s latest Lasik procedure soon)

Sometimes I take my laptop into the lunchroom here at work. Between bites of my smoked turkey sandwich, I try to hammer out something — a blog post or part of a new fiction piece — either to release a pent-up thought or just to satisfy my inner Touretter.

Folks who see me typing assume I’m working. “Give yourself a break. You’ll burn out,” they say.

Not one to ignore people, I respond with something like, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not working.”

Then comes the furrowed brow or squinted eyes, as if they’re searching for some reason I could possibly be hunkered over a computer on my lunch. To most of them, writing is an assignment, something painfully slow and tedious. Ten times out of 10, they drop the issue. They weren’t interested in what I was doing, anyway. It was all just vacuous pleasantries.

If I were to blurt out, “I’m blogging,” they no doubt would recoil as if I had a foot growing from my forehead. (nothing against anyone who does)

A few days ago, someone a few cubes down speculated that I must be writing a novel. “A novel? No. I do write stories, though,” I said.

“Yeah, Mark’s a good writer,” came the voice of a co-worker who has read some of my online ramblings.

I let that one sit, and did not provide a link. I might. We’ll see.

Last week, I started shivering in the break room. All I had with me that day was my food and the Dan Brown novel Angels & Demons. Needing a warmer spot for respite, I gathered my things and climbed the flight of stairs to another break room.

In the corner of the room was a guy I had seen downstairs several times, but had never met — typing on his Dell laptop. I always wondered whether he was working. He had blown-dry chestnut hair, long enough to lie flat but not unkempt. His gaze was fixed on the laptop opened before him.

As I pulled out a chair a few tables over from him, he said, “So, what Dan Brown book are you reading?”

I told him, and he opined that it was a good one.

I figured I would ask the burning question nobody had bothered to ask me. “So, I notice that you have that computer at lunch a lot. Are you a writer?”

He looked up from the screen and smiled. “Well, when you see me, I’m mostly working on other people’s writing, but not with any kind of authority.”

I didn’t pry on that one.

He went on to tell me that he is a writer and has a story that’s in the top four of a competition. Not only that, but he’s in a writing group with several others, including four published authors.

Before the next day was over, I had a copy of one of his original manuscripts and two of his Dan Brown novels. He also sent me some shining examples of “show, don’t tell” writing, something Simon rightly accused me of not doing in parts of “Falcon.”

My co-worker’s manuscript is a yarn of mystery and mythology, its protagonist a teenage boy who happens upon bones of a bird he suspects is the star of the Chinese Phoenix and Dragon legend. It’s pretty good through the 80 pages I’ve read.

Apparently still to come is two characters’ trip back in time that accidentally negatively alters history. They go back and attempt to right that wrong. Does that sound familiar to anybody who reads my work? Seems it’s a popular, if not original, plot.

Finally, I’ve found a kindred spirit here at work, somebody who understands why I sit tap-tap-tapping on this infernal yet miraculous contraption. He’s a married guy with a kid, trying to find time to write when he’s not working or doing the family thing.

And maybe, just maybe, he and his pals can help me improve my craft.

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