She riffles through the books, all manner of them. Teenage rage books, fiction, serious fiction, inflated fiction, featherweight fiction priced at five cents. She imagines the writers of these books gathered round, waiting for the discussion to spark. The valid point about the poorly drawn wife or the story line you could see a mile coming and therefore made the mechanics of the plot tedious. But who cares ultimately? These writers, hungry for a good meaty conversation, press in on all sides and whisper …”we did it. We wrote it. And we put it into the world with a full heart.”