I started this blog as another way to procrastinate–er, I mean, to chronicle the joy of writing this book (and by joy, I mean pain, torture, insanity, and pain-have I mentioned pain?) so that maybe someday when it’s published and made into a movie (*grin*), I can look back and laugh at all this whining. Plus, if I don’t write something other than fiction all day (she says wistfully, as though she actually writes all day), I get a little twitchy and forget to do things like bathe, sleep, go to work, etc.
Work. Right. I sit in a cube all day (actually I just moved on up to a *corner* cube with *half* a window, howdya like that?) and do corporate things like brainstorm and shift paradigms and create team synergy, while really in my head I’m thinking how much I’d rather be on the beach writing my book, and also, pretending that the people I’m surrounded by will suddenly beam into another dimension. Except for my new cube neighbor who gave me wine in a Styrofoam cup on Friday. “This is our 4 o’clock Friday thing,” he said. “Welcome to the neighborhood. Just be discreet.” Discreet? I felt like I was back in high school, eating peanut butter and breath mints in the car on the way home from the party – I mean the library where I was dutifully studying Macbeth or Chaucer or Calculus (like writing, math is hard!). When my VP called and asked me to stop in to give her an update on the summer intern’s progress, I had to do the breath-on-the-hand test. Seriously.
As if sitting in a cube isn’t corporate enough, I started my MBA earlier this year (I know, I know. It just sort of happened.). I have an A in the first class – the Economics of Management. I get it. And other than the fact that I really don’t care about ROI, NPV, B2B, B2C – actually, acronyms in general kind of bug me – I’d say it’s going great. Which is why I probably won’t continue with the program.
‘Cause like, duh, I’m supposed to be a writer. Besides, I promised my father-in-law I’d write a “meel-yon dollar book” someday. Can’t do that in finance class.