Dear Chapter Five,
I think it’s time we had that talk. You know, the one where we come together and agree to figure out how to get along. You know what I mean. The one where we make certain commitments.
For my part, I agree that I will continue to appear before the monitor every morning. I will put butt in chair. I will type to the best of my ability. It would be nice if you would agree to not laugh at said ability. I will also commit to clearing my mind. Yes, by that I mean no internet. I know it will be hard. Please treat that as the ultimate sign of my belief in this pact.
Now it’s your turn.
… waiting …
… still waiting …
What’s wrong? Not sure where to start? That’s okay, because this morning I’m all about the help.
You could start by committing to get your damned foot off the metaphorical air hose when it comes to letting me know exactly what happens within you. And don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I feel it in there. You know exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. Yes, this would be a great start.
Next, you could agree to stop playing coy with Amanda. Her name, for example, is not Amanda. We both know it. Time to cough it up. We also both know that as soon as we get a read on who she really is, the story will be done. She’s the last domino, right? Tell me we both understand that.
Finally, I really do insist you stop with the smugness. Yes. You. Smug. Don’t think I can’t hear you snickering as you feed me false direction. Don’t think I can’t feel that odd sense of satisfaction you get as I use my most excellent typing skills to delete (letter by misled letter) entire paragraphs of the latest false start you’ve given me.
Fair enough?
I think so. If we could both stick to these key points for the next two days, I think this saga around Episode Seven could be put behind us, and we would both be able to live happily ever after.
Which is what we both want, right?
Correct?
… waiting …
… still waiting …