Friday, September 24, 2010

The Intervention: The first step is admitting you're addicted to Mafia Wars and Farmville

            “So how did the writing go today?” My husband smiled at me. He’s so supportive of my new career.

            I grimaced a little. “I didn’t do much writing today.” OK, so that’s a lie. I didn’t do any writing today.

            “That’s OK,” he said, patting me gently on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’s hard to come up with such wonderful articles every day.”
            I nodded a little guiltily.

            “Did you do some research instead?” he asked. “Find anything helpful?”

            I have been reading lots of blogs and looking into advertising strategies that don’t make my friends on Facebook want to unfriend me. I also bought a copy of Writer’s Market and have been sending articles to magazines.

            “Mmmmm,” I mumbled. I picked up my glass of iced tea and sipped, taking my time.

            “I didn’t hear what you said.”

I knew that, but I sent him an apologetic smile anyway. Not having him hear what I said was kind of the point of the whole mumbling thing.

“Not really,” I finally admitted.

“Don’t worry about it,” he was quick to reassure me. “Did you need to go idea hunting? I think that taking your laptop to Starbucks or Panera Bread is a great way to find new ideas. The weather was gorgeous today. Even going to the park would be beneficial. Anything that gets you out of this dining room has to be good.”

I looked around my dining room/office. Then I noticed that my neck and shoulders were stiff and my wrist was sore. Suffice it to say that my butt had been glued to the chair in front of my 24 inch monitor for the entire day.

“You didn’t go anywhere, did you?” He stood behind me and rubbed my neck. “What did you do today?”

Darn it, I couldn’t think of a way to evade the direct question. “Social networking.”

My husband is not stupid. “Don’t tell me you played Mafia Wars all day?”

“Of course not,” I answered indignantly. “I also harvested my crops on Farmville and served the customers in my cafĂ©.”

He swiveled my chair around, got down on one knee in front of me, and took my hands in his. “Honey, you have a problem.”

“Don’t be silly,” I answered. “I can stop playing Mafia Wars any time I want to.”

“I think you may need help.” He was very serious and concerned about me. Isn’t that sweet?

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t need help.” It crossed my mind that it was lucky I had taken a shower and gotten dressed this morning before I had turned on my computer. Otherwise, I might very well have been sitting here in my pajamas when he got home from work. That would have been bad.

“I’ll write tomorrow,” I promised him.

“I know you will,” he replied firmly. He pushed down the lid of my laptop and unplugged it.

“Where are you taking my computer?” I felt a little dizzy, and there were butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“Consider this an intervention.”

“I don’t need an intervention. I need my laptop. How do you expect me to write without my computer?”

Wordlessly, he handed me a legal pad and a sharpened #2 yellow pencil.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he answered cheerfully. “It worked for Emily Dickinson and Mark Twain. It’ll work for you.”

Apologies to my MW family, my Farmville neighbors, and my Vampire Wars clannies. I have to write today. Really.


  1. If you don't get help at Charter...

  2. ...please get help somewhere. LOL