I’m sitting miles above the flat rectangles and wrinkled skin of California, my small plastic tray out, tea on one side, view of the earth on the other. My device is in airplane mode–no new text messages, emails, status updates, Google searches. The engine makes a heavy white noise. I can’t worry I’m not doing something. Catapulting forward at hundreds of miles per hour from one place to the next constitutes a worthwhile activity. Even doing the dishes can’t beat flying home for sheer effectiveness points. So no guilt or nagging sense that something more important–making tea, opening bills, checking the fridge–demands my attention.
The question is how to get into airplane mode every morning, every writing window. How to strap the best low and tight across your waist and just sit. Because after you sit for a while, you’ll remember the notebook. My favorite social media of all time: the book. Your head’s in the clouds.
Now you’re flying . . .