The Curse of the Introvert - a short true story

Whilst the kiddo was in her gymnastics class the other day, I and a bunch of other parents were sat in the reception area. Normally I take my laptop with me and knock out a few words, the other day, a chatty lady began chatting. She was nice, we got on well. Then she asked me what I do for a living. I was brave for a change and instead of just telling her I'm an accountant (which usually ends the conversation then and there because that's boring as fuck) I said, "I have two jobs, I'm an accountant and an author".

Of course, I should have known that would lead to more questions. "What sort of books do you write?"

Me internally: oh god I can't say erotica, I'm in a room full of people I don't know and there are little kids playing nearby and I don't know this woman, she might be a bible thumper who hates that kind of stuff and then we'll have to spend the next hour sitting opposite each other in awkward as fuck silence... then I can't say steampunk because I'm pretty sure she won't know what the fuck that is and then I'll have to try and explain it and I really can't be arsed to do that, I just want to fucking write.

Me: "Fantasy."

"Oh. Have you published anything?"

Me internally: you gotta be fucking kidding me? I mean, I want to make a sale, but shit, I don't want to spend a whole hour of my life trying to sell one fucking book. Besides, I still can't explain what my books are about without people giving me totally confused looks... fuck, shit, fuck...

Me: "I have published 5 books with a sixth on the way... What do YOU do for a living?"

Having successfully deflected the conversation for the next five minutes where I listened politely as she told me about her photography business and showed me the pictures on her phone (which were actually very good) then her daughter came out of the class and moved the conversation away. I opened the laptop, wrote for an hour while they played chess (she had two kids so her son was still in a class)

At the end of the hour I closed my laptop down and was about to go collect my daughter when she hits me with...

"So can I buy your books online?"

Me internally: whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Me: "Sure, google E.C. Jarvis and you'll see all you need to see."

I disappeared as quickly as fucking possible after that.

Oh the plight of the introverted writer.