At an appointment today my podiatrist asked me what I do for work. I told him I’m an English grad student: I take classes, work in the writing center, and teach writing. 
“Are you a good writer?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, I am a good writer. I love reading and writing. And I love teaching. Actually, I worked as a writer before going back to school. I wrote and edited a book about stillbirth; my daughter was stillborn at full term in 2006, and that’s what the collection is about.”
He then started telling me about his ideas for a book of collected short stories about his adventures in the produce department at Whole Foods.
I was baffled but humored him. He’s writing the prescription for my treatment. Then he said, “I have the ideas. I just need a writer. I’m the brains. I just need someone to put pen to paper.”
I’ve decided he’s not a bad guy. He’s just clueless about how to listen and also about writing.

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