I’m almost finished my short book. It began life as Reconnecting the Narrative and some how managed to morph into The Power of Us. The book is only 8,000 words. I’ve written 9,000 and only need a couple of hours of solid writing to craft the ending. And then edit. But I’m stuck.
Imbi looks up from her theology books and asks, “Are you writing?” She’s been trying to help me to finish this book. She’s not succeeding.
David Allen’s book mocks me from the shelves, “If only you’d read me in August, when Christopher gave me to you. At least he would have finished me. And you’d be so much more productive.” Shut up, book! Didn’t I read Girl Meets God, On Intelligence, God’s Politics, The Last Word and the Word After That, and a bunch of other books I’ve forgotten. “Yes, but weren’t you supposed to be writing?”
ecto seduces me from the dock. Its pen and world logo promising untold readers. “Just write something quick. Post it to the blog. That will make you feel better.” And Firefox chimes in, “And when you’ve posted, check your stats. See who’s reading.”
If I could still write with pen and paper, I’d probably be done. Or even a Selectric. But this computer wirelessly connects me to impossible worlds too enthralling to imagine. And my book’s still not finished!