The hum of the breakfast crowd was comfortable. Maybe it was too comfortable, lulling Claire into a meditative state – though not on the project before her. She shook herself from her reverie and forced her eyes to focus on her computer screen. She read the last sentence she wrote – an hour ago – four more times.
Maybe another cup of coffee would help. Well, the last two hadn’t, why would a third? Besides, her leg was already bouncing under the table, and she was fighting the urge to run. She swore that she would not leave this diner until she achieved three sentences, just three! And that was down from the 2000 words she so ambitiously set for herself when the warm air of the diner first hit her in the face.
She set her elbows on the table and sighed heavily. At this rate she wasn’t going to finish the story this year, let alone this month.
“You alright, hon?”
Claire dropped her hands and looked up at the waitress sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m alright, thanks.”
She gestured the coffee pot to her mug. “Can I get you another cup?”
“Yes, please.”
Claire slid the cup over and was momentarily drawn in by the sound of liquid filling the cup. Of course. She could lock in on a pedestrian, common sound that lasted all of two seconds, but two house sitting in this booth hadn’t brought her any closer to break through.
“What’chu workin’ on?” the waitress asked, pushing the cup back into Claire’s reach.
Dawn, that’s what her name tag read. Pink heart and smiley face stickers adorned either side of her name. They didn’t match with the severity of her hair, pulled back tightly in a bun.
“Oh, a book I’ve been writing,” Claire said. “It’s the last in the series and I’m ready to put it away altogether…but I have to finish it first.”
“You ain’t the only writer comin’ in here to pull they hair out,” Dawn said, gesturing around. “You in good comp’ny here. Ah, you’ll be fine. Anyone spends a couple hours staring at that hell screen and still goin’ at it has the dedication to get it eventually.”
Dawn winked, and went on to the next table.
Claire looked at her coffee cup. Maybe Dawn was right. Well, Claire knew she was right. She had the dedication, she’d proven it time and time again. It’s not like this was the first book she’d ever written. This wasn’t her first time spending hours staring at a blank screen.
She took a long pull from her coffee, wincing at the sting in her throat, and started typing.