I Can’t Believe You Wrote That

By Joelle Fraser

It started out as most pandemic relationships do, with a post. In this case it was mine, on Facebook: a story about a plagiarizing student. That night, a witty response popped up in my inbox. A quick search revealed the sender was a 50ish divorced novelist with a cute kid and reassuring politics.

Soon we were texting like teens, a rapid-fire exchange of lives defined by writing and parenting during a plague. By the next night, the topic drifted to the reasons for our d...