This has been one of those weekends where I fear what I am writing is complete garbage and I should put my time to better use. So I did what I always do in situations like this: I got in my car. If I'd still been living in Cambridge, MA I would've walked to Harvard Square, but since walking isn't an option anymore (unless I want to walk for an hour and/or get hit by a car), I just grabbed my car keys and headed to Panera. And if my book ever gets published I probably should send a thank-you note to the manager of the store off Route 78 for the lattes and chicken cobb salads, which have pulled me through many moments of doubt. Then I headed out to B&N next door, which deserves its own thank-you note, and got Dashielle Hammett's The Maltese Falcon.
At some point I began to feel better, as always. I felt at peace and I know it was my cue to go. As I was driving back on Route 78 (which I find very soothing, at least in that area and at that time of the day) I thought: even if the book doesn't sell, I can self-publish, I can write another one, I'll be alright. I remembered what a student had written for my evaluation as a Teaching Assistant, back at MIT in 2002: "she's a tough cookie". And I probably am. It's all going to be fine.
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