Has a stare-down with a chipmunk who’s climbed up the Tulip Poplar and is cramming as many sunflower seeds into his cheeks he can possibly fit. He sees you. You see him. The stare begins. You win when he runs away, but you feel silly about it and then hum softly to yourself as if it doesn’t matter.
Watches Rachael Ray chop garlic at the speed of sound while talking about her family while waving her hands around while shaking a pot of simmering meat while pouring EVOO while grinning that big ole grin. You go in the kitchen to prepare your feast and come away with a handful of walnuts, three grapes, fourteen almonds, a half container of yogurt, sixty-seven Hershey’s kisses, and forty-three thousand M&M’s.
You surf the net looking for places that may have mentioned your or your novel, but pretend you don’t care if there is nothing new, and if there is you pretend you are not thrilled and you didn’t just get up and do the Happy Dance.
You check out Amazon for reviews and ranking, even though you promised yourself and others you would not—but if no one sees you, if you pretend you really do not care, you are only passing by, then it doesn’t count (same as calories eaten while standing in the middle of the room while watching Rachael Ray do not count).
You look out the door and the chipmunk is staring at you again….commence Round Two of stare-down. The chipmunk turns its back on you in disgust and you sigh.
You write completely inane blog posts about how writers waste time and hardly feel ashamed of your lack of motivation and imagination at all, hardly, sorta kinda hardly at all.
You flip the channels on the TV when the commercial that has that creepy hamburger King comes on and makes you go “eyewww” but when you flip the channel, there’s another commercial with that really loud beard-faced guy touting bathroom cleaner, and while flipping, you become fascinated, yet distracted and then lose your train of thought and then…then you…
The chipmunk’s cheeks are so huge, you can’t believe his face doesn’t explode. You stare with your mouth slightly open, and the chipmunk completely ignores you now. This makes you feel as if you don’t matter. You cram M&M’s in your cheeks and yell at the chipmunk, “Whash your problem? Shtop shtaring at me! Get a life, geesh!”
Finally, you open up your word document and begin. And it feels good. It’s the best thing in the world. It’s all you ever really wanted to do....you just didn’t want to be told you had to do it; you wanted it to be all your own idea.