Meeting kennahijja
Monday night, after midnight. I’m not packing my bag. I’m not reading conference papers. I’m looking for a spare ink cartridge for my printer. Desperately. Why do all those in my desk drawer have to be empty? I’m beginning to panic. After all, I'll soon be meeting kennahijja and I want to be prepared. There are so many of Hijja’s fics that I still want to read or re-read before I meet her, so many questions I want to ask her about her writing, but I’m not taking my computer on the trip so I will need to print those fics out if I want to take them with me.
I end up reading fics on my computer late into the night, which is probably the reason why I’m getting them all mixed up when I do try and talk about them with Hijja on Wednesday. I almost miss my train the next morning, too, and hardly manage to keep my eyes open all day. On Wednesday morning at last there’s a fairly boring talk on the conference programme during which I get to read the one random fic that my printer managed before it gave up the ghost, under the desk. It turns out to be “This Is How”, which probably explains why the lady next to me gives me concerned looks more than once and even whispers “Are you alright?” at some point.
Oh, sure I am. Much too right. Well, to be honest, I’m inches away from sending Hijja a polite text message that I can’t meet her after all, that I’ve suddenly been taken ill or something. Because, dear me, this is going to be the scariest woman I’ve ever met in my life. But then, liking that story is probably not less scary, so it’s only fair if I go. After all, this is all about scary people sticking together, isn’t it?
By the time I’m setting out to meet Hijja at the station, I’ve calmed down a bit. This is not the first time that I am meeting anyone off the internet, but it’s the first time that Dark Twin is meeting anyone off the internet face to face, and that makes it special. Hijja is already waiting for me outside the station bookshop. It’s not like she’s wearing a Slytherin scarf, but I immediately know it’s her. Maybe because she looks so comfortable when she’s close to a bookshop. She doesn’t look scary though. But then neither do I, I guess. I just look posh.
We take about half an hour to find a café, but eventually we do. A good choice - it comes with a huge fruit salad for me and with a Lucius-Malfoy-look-alike at the next table for Hijja. His face is more Sean Connery, actually, but from behind, the hair is just right. I swear that Hijja is inches from licking her lips as she watches him depart.
We talk about writing all the time, which is fantastic. I don’t know if there are many writers who are willing to share that much of their motives for writing and their technique, with such honesty and in a way that is so passionate and enthusiastic and at the same time so modest and unassuming. I could sit for days and just listen to Hijja talking about writing. Well, maybe I couldn’t, because I notoriously can’t keep my mouth shut for longer than thirty seconds in a row. But you know what I mean. Thanks, Hijja, for the most inspiring couple of hours that I’ve had in weeks (and with regards to writing, possibly in years).
What I admire so much about Hijja’s writing is that she’s so unafraid. She just goes ahead with what seems right, even if it doesn’t seem right, if you take my meaning. She’s fearless. Anyone who puts herself into the bad guys’ heads with such ease has to be, I guess. I’ve often wondered how people do that, because I don’t - I seem to prefer exploring the dark sides of the (seemingly) good guys. But then, maybe those are just two different means to the same end. It’s all about testing limits, after all. And it’s so good to be understood.
Just one of the many very enlightening moments in our conversation.
Three hours later, I’m back on the train home trying to collect my scattered thoughts, and aching to write again. If I ever do it any time soon, it will be thanks to Hijja and this truly memorable Wednesday afternoon. Thanks again, girl. :)
I end up reading fics on my computer late into the night, which is probably the reason why I’m getting them all mixed up when I do try and talk about them with Hijja on Wednesday. I almost miss my train the next morning, too, and hardly manage to keep my eyes open all day. On Wednesday morning at last there’s a fairly boring talk on the conference programme during which I get to read the one random fic that my printer managed before it gave up the ghost, under the desk. It turns out to be “This Is How”, which probably explains why the lady next to me gives me concerned looks more than once and even whispers “Are you alright?” at some point.
Oh, sure I am. Much too right. Well, to be honest, I’m inches away from sending Hijja a polite text message that I can’t meet her after all, that I’ve suddenly been taken ill or something. Because, dear me, this is going to be the scariest woman I’ve ever met in my life. But then, liking that story is probably not less scary, so it’s only fair if I go. After all, this is all about scary people sticking together, isn’t it?
By the time I’m setting out to meet Hijja at the station, I’ve calmed down a bit. This is not the first time that I am meeting anyone off the internet, but it’s the first time that Dark Twin is meeting anyone off the internet face to face, and that makes it special. Hijja is already waiting for me outside the station bookshop. It’s not like she’s wearing a Slytherin scarf, but I immediately know it’s her. Maybe because she looks so comfortable when she’s close to a bookshop. She doesn’t look scary though. But then neither do I, I guess. I just look posh.
We take about half an hour to find a café, but eventually we do. A good choice - it comes with a huge fruit salad for me and with a Lucius-Malfoy-look-alike at the next table for Hijja. His face is more Sean Connery, actually, but from behind, the hair is just right. I swear that Hijja is inches from licking her lips as she watches him depart.
We talk about writing all the time, which is fantastic. I don’t know if there are many writers who are willing to share that much of their motives for writing and their technique, with such honesty and in a way that is so passionate and enthusiastic and at the same time so modest and unassuming. I could sit for days and just listen to Hijja talking about writing. Well, maybe I couldn’t, because I notoriously can’t keep my mouth shut for longer than thirty seconds in a row. But you know what I mean. Thanks, Hijja, for the most inspiring couple of hours that I’ve had in weeks (and with regards to writing, possibly in years).
What I admire so much about Hijja’s writing is that she’s so unafraid. She just goes ahead with what seems right, even if it doesn’t seem right, if you take my meaning. She’s fearless. Anyone who puts herself into the bad guys’ heads with such ease has to be, I guess. I’ve often wondered how people do that, because I don’t - I seem to prefer exploring the dark sides of the (seemingly) good guys. But then, maybe those are just two different means to the same end. It’s all about testing limits, after all. And it’s so good to be understood.
Just one of the many very enlightening moments in our conversation.
Three hours later, I’m back on the train home trying to collect my scattered thoughts, and aching to write again. If I ever do it any time soon, it will be thanks to Hijja and this truly memorable Wednesday afternoon. Thanks again, girl. :)