Brian says to me, "You wrote about your cold bath on your blog???"
"How'd you hear that?"
"One of my student's, his mom. David's mom. She was laughing about your cold bath."
"Well, that's good she found it funny."
Brian gives me a look that says, what else did I write about on my blog and is there anything that he maybe should be concerned with? He won't read my blog--in part because he's a luddite, when it comes to computers, happily so, and can think of a ton of things he would rather do than sit in front of a computer. But also, I'm sure, a part of it is he's afraid of what he might learn. Which is why it took him so long to read Pen on Fire; yes, he had read many pages early on, way before they were even a book, but once his friends, who'd bought the book, started telling him things about him that they found in the book, he was afraid to look.
It can be a wild, hairy ride, living with an author who might quote you or write about you at any turn. Yet it could be worse. Imagine living with a trial attorney and getting interrogated about your every move. Or living with a dentist, who is always checking out your teeth. Or an ob/gyn who's sees it all.
So Brian says, "You didn't write about....."
"No!" I tell him. "I wouldn't write about that." At least not in my blog. Now in my fiction where I can disguise people and places, well, you just never know.