Motivational Lying

what do you do? i’m a writer. really? yes, really. well what have you written? tons of shit, i once wrote a short story that made no sense according to my one critic. who’s the critic? it sounds like you are. [sic]

It was Valentine’s Day.  I was sitting alone on a sidewalk in Mexico when Tatiana approached and sat down. Her nervous twitch was twitching nervously. It seemed to be getting worse, bless her heart. She is maybe 50 Something. Beautiful lady. Married. Bizarre. Heart of Gold. Mexican.  In English, it went something like this:

Aron where you are been?
I’ve been living out at the lagoon.
Why you not come visit us anymore?
Spending a lot of time out in Manialtepec is all.
You like it out there?
Oh yes, very tranquilo
What you are doing out there?
I’m writing a book.
Oh wow, what is the book about?
Tatiana was not the first person that I told I was writing a book. I am going to say she was like the sixth. Maybe the eighth. So in calling a spade a spade, I had now told the sixth or eighth person that I was writing a book. Strange behavior I must say. She was about to be the first person that I was actually going to tell what the book was about. It reminds me of the time that Costanza drives his in-laws out to the Hamptons. You know the one.
 
Look, I’ve logged time behind a thesaurus, and i’ve written a short story or two, but for me to make the leap to “author in progress” was just downright lying. i didn’t know why I was doing it, and in the same breath, I knew exactly why.
 
It’s not like i walk around telling people that I am writing a book. I mean if somebody asked me how it was going, or what I was doing, my answer would never be that I was writing a book. However, from time to time, and at times when I least expected it, I found myself in front of some human being telling them that I am writing a book. No, not that i am a writer. No, not that i write short stories. And no, not that i run a corny business blog. No, No, and No. I would say that I am writing a book.
 
So that’s what i told Tatiana. I told her that I am writing a book. A book about a boy and a dog. I told her that I couldn’t give up the title, but once I had one, along with a beginning, a middle, or an end, I would be happy to share.  Trust me..

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