As usual, Chad had more than enough to do. He had to update Facebook, answer inquires from LinkedIn, and he had himself on a regimen of no less than three tweets a day. Then, there was his business blog “Success Through Failure” and the weekly podcast to create. There was his personal blog, which he posted to daily - mostly stuff about all the writing he had to do. He had a Tumblr account, though he wasn't quite sure yet what that was and he just started posting photos on Instagram. A friend suggested some apps he should check out. He was trying to add apps, songs and movie reviews to his personal blog so there would be more diversity in his writing. Of course that doesn't include the emails he had to answer or the assignments for an online writing course he recently signed up for. Not to mention that lately, he was getting requests to guest post on a number of high profile blogs which, though there was no pay involved, helped keep his name out there.
Then there was his fiction writing which he never seemed to be able to get to. He had a couple of stories he started last fall. At the time they seemed promising, but now he just wasn’t able to get the downtime he so desperately needed to think them through. Sam suggested he get off the internet for a couple of weeks and just focus on creative work. But, with Chad’s publisher doing so little promotion for his book, he was afraid if he disengaged now, it would doom his chances of selling some real books and crush the momentum he’d been making online.
Pulling into the apartment complex, Chad saw a box at their back door. He jumped out of the car. Could it be? Yes, it was from his publisher. Grabbing the box, he quickly unlocked the kitchen door. Sam was at work. He wondered if he should wait to open it? Placing the heavy box on the table, Chad sat down, staring at the red and white label with his name on it. Yes, at last, he thought, a real live hardcover book, no, a fuckin' real live hardcover book, with his fuckin' name on it. The title of the book was printed on the outside of the box. No, there wasn't time, besides he should wait for Sam - some wine, maybe a little celebration? Leaving the box on the table, Chad headed out again with his Mac Book Air in hand.
At The Coffee Shop, he took his favorite corner seat. The place was fairly quiet, though there was a steady line at the coffee bar. Chad took a moment to look around. Families dressed in summer casual, the slap of flip flops, the smell of suntan lotion and the beach. A gaggle of skinny teenage girls with pink and yellow iPhones giggled as each of their names were called. Each left, carrying a creamy venti latte. From the brown leather chairs Chad could just make out the elders bitching about the price of gas, congress and this year's crop of tourists. The baristas, too busy to chat, called out:
"Red eye for Jack, tall green tea for Therese, americano for Frank."
Chad took a long deep drink of his coffee and thought about Sam and the unopened box of books at home. His phone dinged twice. It was a reminder to make his student loan payment. He turned the phone off slipping it back into his pocket, opened his laptop and began writing.