The Writer
I woke up, and it was still dark. s**t, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I should get up and start that new chapter in the book. But, no, it’s too early; go back to sleep at least for another hour. Yes, that is a good idea. Trying to go back to sleep, all I can think about is my publisher’s email. “John, you promised the next two chapters this week. Where are they?”
I couldn’t go back to sleep. I got up, went downstairs, and turned on the coffee pot that’s on a small table next to my desk. I turned on the computer, reread what I had written the night before, and started chapter forty-four. I had just finished a great intro paragraph to the chapter when the coffee finished. I got up and poured myself a cup. I decided I wanted toast with it, so I headed upstairs to the kitchen. Wai
