Write a sentence. Ugh. Write another. Ick. Stop. Scratch mysterious mosquito bite. Open Safari to check messages, no, bad, don’t do that, close Safari. Stare at wall. Stare out window. Return to screen. Start another sentence. It becomes a paragraph, a whole page, you’re on a roll! Oh, um, no you’re not. You just stopped for no reason. Why? Dunno, it’s a mystery. Stare at wall some more. Listen to sirens outside. Crack neck. Fiddle with desk lamp. Crack neck again. Torture self by checking calendar with quickly approaching deadline. Freak for 60 seconds. Then close calendar. Breathe. Return to page. Yes, that’s page 150. Yes, you’re doing so well. Write a word, any word. Look, another sentence came out. This seems to be working. Sentences start with words; therefore you put a word down and it becomes a sentence. Oh, not really. Sentences have to make sense. It is 3:57. Now it is 3:58. Where did that whole minute go? Write a word. Any word. How hard can it be? People write books every day. Or so I’ve heard.