There are many. I sit down to write, and …
a chicken scratches at the door. (That’s Ray Bradbury, the Barred Plymouth Rock chicken.)
a zucchini calls out for me to go pick it and cook it up for dinner. (I swear, my garden veggies do this. Don’t yours?)
a book flies open in the wind, beckoning for me to read it. (There are NEVER enough hours in the day when it comes to reading time.)
Tonight I will master these. I will write. I will write a word… then a sentence… then a paragraph… and eventually, well, I’ll have another novel to try to publish. Send me concentration vibes. I just might need them.