I am writing this in the parking lot of Walgreens, where I just purchased a couple of manuscript mailers, a new brand of anti-frizz serum for my hair (hope springs eternal!), a discounted day-after-Easter bunny (solid milk chocolate, fifty cents), and a small tablet of light purple eye shadow. Now, this is the life: I can apply the eye shadow in the rearview mirror and check how it looks (too light), eat my chocolate bunny without sharing, and write.
Every once in a while, people who come to my writing workshops ask me how I’m so productive. Because I’ve been published, they think that I must have superior work habits. Nothing could be further from the truth. The people who ask about my productivity are inevitably parents who work full time and can’t seem to squeeze in the requisite twenty minutes of writing a day between board meetings and Little League. They blame themselves. They imagine that if only they could get up a half-hour earlier in the mornings, or manage their time better, they too could be published and happy.
