I hope this won’t come as a surprise to those who know me, but I am a huge worrier. I have a tendency to imagine horrible results from almost any minor event. I could eat a slightly squishy grape and imagine that I am about to get Squishy-Grape Poisoning and end up in a hospital bed, surrounded by my loved ones, who look concerned but are actually thinking, “Why would she have eaten that squishy grape?”
So I decided I should send my overactive imagination outside for some fresh air instead of letting it fill my mind with worries all day. And writing books seemed like a productive use of its energy.
It did! Not completely, of course, but tiring out my imagination on the writing jungle gym makes it less apt to concern itself with squishy grapes and other perils. Tell your friend to give it a try.