blurred image of author signing books. original photo by: Cat I met a famous writer once in New York. It was at a book reading. When the event was coming to a close, I was cajoled into the 'meet and greet' line. I didn't want to queue up. That wasn't how I wanted to meet this writer. Standing in line, I was not a person. In that position I was a fanatic ; with a slight pejorative feeling to the word. It's an itchy label to wear sometimes. One more person to make the line longer, I was part of the fan gauntlet. This is not a fair kind of meeting. For either party. At the time he had a finger injury; a break, I believe. I do clearly recall that he made a point to tell everyone not to shake his hand. For the obvious splinted reason. Feeling like a complete fool jacked up on the usual influences: caffeine, cortisol mostly; I waited for my turn to meet this renowned individual. Ugh. Be still my conflicted thoughts and feelings. When my time came to stand before the man