Today. Yom Kippur. Mr. Temple is at home and fasting. That’s my cue to lie low and write elsewhere, so I don’t antagonize him with my Gentile propensity for procrastination via snacking.
Take the subway downtown for a writer’s meet up. The laptop is having a senior citizen moment and take twenty minutes to boot. In that time, I determine no one else has come to meet up. I order pancakes and a coffee, since eating in front of Mr. Temple felt like a dick move, even though he assured me it wasn’t.
Good news: pancakes are delicious. Bad news: no further writers show up. Also, Word will only let me write three sentences before it takes a pause and the little rainbow wheel spins for a minute before I’m allowed to proceed.
Despite the fact the writer’s meet up is supposed to run from 2 til 5, at 4 pm, I am informed the coffee shop is closing. I smile, save my work, pack up, and walk down the street to the next coffee shop. There is no point in going home until the sun has gone down. The last few hours of Yom Kippur are always the worst.
Coffee shop 2: laptop takes another ten minutes to boot back up. I was hoping to finish this short story today, but at the rate I’m going, it’s going to be tomorrow instead.
5 pm. No battery left. I’m 500 words from The End and I’m going to have to pack up and go home to recharge.
When I say ‘three book deal’ it sounds pretty glamorous, doesn’t it?
Yup…pretty glamourous indeed.