When I can't sleep, I sit here and stare at this computer and think, "I need to work on my book," but if I do, I'll get so engrossed in it that I'll be up all night. So I don't. It scares me. If I open it, it will be like opening a door with a monster behind it - a monster I like and hate at the same time - who will open it's mouth four feet wide and eat me in one gulp, then it will chew and chew and chew all night, rolling me round and round in its mouth, over and through its teeth, bouncing me up and down on its tongue, ricocheting me off of its uvula and tonsils, then suddenly it will spit me out and it will be morning and I won't really have accomplished anything except robbing myself of rest. Because the book monster lives behind that door and won't go away.
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