Dear Self,
You expected to find an adorable cafe in which you’d turn words into literary magic and you’d be living the Hemingway dream in Paris. Well, that didn’t exactly happen. Do the French even drink coffee? It doesn’t seem to be a “thing” here. Instead, you’re typing words in the dark, baby asleep in your arms, trying to make your word count like a contortionist with a writing deadline. Hey, at last you’re up to 600 words and it’s still the morning.
The point is sometimes in life (ok, all the time) shit doesn’t always happen as planned, but you shouldn’t let that stop you. You have to get creative. You have to make it happen. You have to plow through, even when it is hard and uncomfortable and you still feel jet lagged. Make it happen. Excuses or results–you can’t have both.
Signed,
Your Observing Ego in Paris
Teresa Shimogawa 