Small, small world

So today I'm sitting in a cushy chair in Barnes & Noble working on "Transfigurations," and a fiftyish woman sits down beside me and says, "How much does that laptop weigh?"

I get asked that question a lot. "About four pounds," I say.

She does the appropriate oohing and aahing over my laptop, which requires pretty much the same tone of voice you use when looking at photos of someone's grandchildren, and then she says, "What are you working on?"

Preferring not to tell the truth ("Gay porn based on a children's book. Why do you ask?"), I say, "I seem to be writing a short story."

And she says, "Do you post them on the internet?"

Now at this point I could tell the truth, but apparently when I'm taken by surprise I automatically lie unless I have a good reason not to, so I say, "Internet?"

"Yes," she says. "My daughter's nineteen, and she's crazy about this show called Farscape ... and this is going to sound kind of strange, but she ..." And she proceeds to explain fanfic to me: internet posting, mailing lists, chat, beta readers, archives, feedback.

And I, who have lied with no good reason, angle my screen so she won't be able to recognize any names, and nod and smile and look like this is all new to me.

"And it's the funniest thing," she says. "My cousin, who's sixty, is a real Star Trek fanatic, and when she heard about this, she told us she does the same thing, and she wrote two versions of her story, the one for kids ... and the one for adults!"

So the only thing left unrevealed is whether her cousin is writing adult stories in the Kirk/Uhura category or in the Kirk/Spock category.

And then she settles back in her chair and reads The Historical Jesus for two hours while I work on Dumbledore's ghost and wish I had told the truth for a change.

axiom_of_stripe proves me wrong

OK, I confess there are exceptions to the "Don't stop in the middle of the sex scene and move them to the bed" rule, such as cmshaw's delicious Ray/Ray storylet.