The Way a Stranger Sees You

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Yesterday I got a draft of an article someone plans to publish about me in a collection listing contemporary authors. Of course it's flattering to be included, but other emotions arise as well.

First, curiosity. How did they find all this stuff about me? Some of it's correct, some is outdated, some is just plain wrong (when was I ever an editor?). Some I can't figure out: how did they find out that my dad sold used cars and my mom taught school?

Second, doubt. How well do the parts balance? The article seems to dwell on my play-writing, which was actually a pretty short part of my career. It did come first, but I soon realized I wanted to write novels and moved in that direction

And finally, uncertainty. What does it all add up to? Well, they left out a lot, so I plan to submit some additional information, but it's kind of nice to see it all up there and read what reviewers have said about my work. (I try not to read reviews, being overly critical of myself anyway.)

Of course we don't get a real picture of those we don't know from reading about them. We don't see them talking baby talk to the cat or folding loads of laundry between writing suspenseful chapters for the next novel.

I guess it's enough if we get an snapshot in time. This is Peg Herring...sort of.

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