We meet at a coffee shop here in town. I ask her a few questions.
Then she’s all, “You want to come to my house? I can show you a portfolio I built last time I was looking for a job.”
“Yes, please.”
I’ve been to her house before, but it’s been a while so she gives me directions again.
She brings out these two huge folders of stuff, plus three hardback books. All of which she has either written all of, taken photos in, or they were newspaper articles that were a story she wrote. One was an interview of her someone else did.
Fifty years of stuff lay before me on her coffee table and on the floor.
Insert me, stunned.
I had no clue she had so much writing behind her.