Half an Hour to Go

I’m writing this from the workplace break room. I’m never totally sure what the best way to be productive during an hour full of interruptions. Headphones? A nice, anti-social Rottweiler by my feet? Maybe the truth is that the social stuff is building my network of cheerleaders for when I finally do publish. Uhn… well, it would be, if I were the share the book with the co-workers type.

There’s a very specific look I’ve come to expect when I explain the premise of the novel. Oh, really? Is there a medication you should be on?

You can actually recognize the closet sci-fi readers because they’re the ones who don’t give you that look. Really? Quantum entanglement across time? I thought I was the only one.

The last few days, I’ve had very chatty lunches. Today? Silence.

I really can’t decide whether I’d tell people I write, if I had it to do over again. I go back and forth on that. Are they really being encouraging, or are they just watching for the explosion? Maybe the truth is they ask about the novel the way I ask about their kids. Thrilled that everything is going well, but they don’t really want to hear about the toilet training.

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