After I got out of school, I decided that this break was going to be my “writing vacation.” I was determined to produce a great North Eastern American novel and become the voice of my generation. The first day back, I would drop a perfect manuscript on my English teacher’s desk and nonchalantly proclaim: “there.”
I would then get published, and coasting off my immense fame, I would maybe even drop out of school. In my newfound free touch, I could field movie offers, bless gallery openings with my presence, and attend literal cocktail parties (just picture a room full of attractive, hipster-looking 24 year olds with really cool shoes and sunglasses).
I went on the internet to research workable topics, but I got kind of sidetracked and ended up watching every Hayao Miyazaki movie followed by no less than six documentaries involving the plight of the penguins.
After that, my mom made me get out of bed and put on clothes because she told me that I made her feel “disorganized.” It’s not all about you, Mom! I’m busy expressing my prodigious talent, and all you can think about is yourself!
I decided not to shave (not that I ever did), partly so that I could look more like a washed-up writer, but also to rebel. It was then that I realized a “writing vacation” is harder to pull off than I thought, but ya know what? If Emperor Penguins can march for 62 miles across Antarctica, then I can easily write this masterpiece in two weeks.