to write something is proving more difficult than I anticipated. I don't know whether to ask whether those who were "volunteered" by their parents have actually looked at it or not - or whether they are trying to be nice by not telling me.
But something curious happened to me yesterday. I went out to lunch with a small group of friends. This has been going on for a number of years now. We each take a plate of food to share and sit and knit. There is an unwritten rule that we do not gossip about other people so the group has survived. Television inevitably gets discussed so I remain largely silent at those points. Films get discussed, occasionally I have seen one. Books get discussed more rarely. Only three of us do any serious reading and our tastes are very different. We talk knitting, knitting techniques, plans for projects, design points. We talk about other crafty things.
Occasionally we ask each other what we have been doing outside work and our usual activities.
This question usually comes up over the Christmas and New Year period. Yesterday, for the first time, I mentioned that I had finished writing a book and passed it out to be read. All I said was, "I finished writing a novel for children and I have passed it on to a couple of children to see what they think."
The announcement was met with silence. Nobody seemed sure what to say to me. Nobody asked what it was about or indeed made any comment at all. After a moment someone said something else. Conversation was resumed.
I do not normally talk about the fact I write. I definitely do not talk about a work in progress. Once something is finished then I will, if asked, mention it. I am well aware that nobody else in my immediate social circle writes.
The silence puzzled me. The lack of a single question or comment seems strange. Did I shock them? Were they bored? Did they think I was boasting? Were they embarrassed? I just do not know. I will not mention it to them again.