The Joys of Anonymity

Writer’s Log: Stardate 4-2-12 

One of the most draining aspects of speaking tours is the pressure of being constantly “on” for hours at a time. For most of the past few days I have been either lecturing, running workshops, answering questions, signing books for people, talking to prospective authors about the publishing world, or checking my calendar to see if I am available for some event somebody wants me to speak at.  (And I am just so sure that I am available for the engagement in Paris, even though it doesn’t have a date just yet.)

This is exhilarating, of course, and I consider myself fortunate to be able to have these experiences. There are few things as gratifying as have someone tell you that your book helped them with some difficult questions or your talk really got them thinking. 

I have been thinking about this for the past hour or so as I sit in the San Francisco Airport for a three-hour layover, en route from Chico to San Diego.  I am sitting at a little table in a busy part of the airport; people are hustling back and forth around me.  A father just came and got a high chair from beside my table. I can see—and hear—the two kids across the way, occasionally screaming for no reason. I hear snippets of conversations from people around me. Some guy with hair to his waist is speaking with an accent to a bald guy—he sounds German.

But nobody is talking to me. I am just some disheveled guy with his hands stuck to his keyboard and a charger plugged into his laptop. I am “off” for a while and it is so relaxing.   In 4 hours I will be having dinner with Dean Nelson and I will be on again. But I think my battery, like that in my laptop, will be at least partially recharged by then.