Two writers

Somebody asked yesterday, "where are you?"

Whoever it was, thank you for asking.

We were talking about books we are both writing. He was talking about mine, as I'd asked earlier about his.

His writing had been going well, but was no longer. He wasn't sure he was on the right path. It had seemed right when he started writing, and stayed that way for weeks, but the last time he looked he hadn't liked what he'd seen.

When it's time for me to speak about my book, I say that I'm tearing it to shreds again.

Working from back to front, from the end toward the beginning. Trying to get somewhere new.