QUIET PLEASE!

I’m in the No Cell Phones No Talking Beyond This Point alcove of the Carmel Public Library, trying to write. I felt that if I dragged my rear end from the comfort of my home to a seat in a library, I might have more success at the writing-48-minutes-per-day discipline I’ve determined to build into my life.

In his book “The War of Art” (get it, it’s awesome), Steven Pressfield talks about Resistance not liking it when an amateur decides to go pro. But I think Resistance gets a HUGE kick out of people who are chatty in the No Cell Phones No Talking Beyond This Point alcove of the library. I think high schools students on cell phones are Its minions. A ringtone from one of these evildoers in the sacred reading space cracks Resistance up to the point of wetting its pants.

I think the anger I feel is of the righteous variety, right? I mean, I work 40 hours a week, raise two children and am a modern-day, man-lovin’ woman to my husband while trying to be a writer. We’re sacrificing so I can pour thousands of dollars into a program that will, we’re betting the farm, equip me to become a writer of distinction. Or at least a writer capable of writing publishable schit.

But doing that at home is nearly impossible. So here I am at the library, distracted from my real 48-minute writing work, blogging out my frustration about the talking cell phone users in the No Cell Phones No Talking Beyond This Point alcove of the Carmel Public Library.

“In your anger do not sin.” My righteous anger at the Resistance Fighters is twisting me and trying pull me into the orbit of their master, Resistance. I will, however, resist Resistance and NOT become the woman who confronts the rule-breakers. I will not scold those children who insist on chatting and giggling and gossiping within earshot of the No Cell Phones No Talking Beyond This Point alcove of the Carmel Public Library.

I won’t. I will resist. I will write in spite of the distraction.

Resisting.