So yesterday, a young man knocked on my door. I live in the suburbs and work from home, so his happens from time to time. I always answer the door, because about half the time, it’s the postie delivering something and I really don’t want to have to go to the post office to pick it up. Occasionally, it’s even a friend or neighbour! But often, it’s someone who wants me to do or buy something (and yes, I consider changing electricity providers as ‘buying something’).
If they are collecting for a charity, I consider the request. If they are kids selling school fundraising chocolates or the like, I buy some. (It’s only neighbourly and I am, after all, a writer. Coffee and chocolate are necessary adjuncts to the creative process.) If they open with ‘I’m not selling anything,’ they get short shrift, as I object to being lied to. (The politeness or otherwise of the short shrift depends on whether they let me get a word in edgewise and how well the writing was going before they interrupted.) Continue reading