A few days ago, I asked a friend to read my newest short story, Empty Nest, which she did gladly. It is a rare thing for a writer to be in the proximity of one of her readers. I will admit to a wonderful excitement as I watched her scroll through my story (on my iPad).
Seated across the room and pretending to flip through a magazine, I watched her read, noting her body language, her posture, her breathing–all the while hoping for signs of enjoyment (and dreading indicators of boredom or confusion).
She was a most accommodating reader: She sighed. She oohed over turns of phrase. She paused to say she loved the word “indigo.” God bless her gracious heart.
So much for being surreptitious–I flushed and grinned.
Inwardly I urged her on, all the while nibbling my lip, twisting a strand of hair–wringing my hands! Then, it came: the sign. Her eyebrows shot up and she gasped.
Gotcha! The twist worked. I couldn’t contain myself–I felt like dancing around the room. Mission accomplished: I had created a moment of surprise and pleasure for one of my readers.