Sometimes it seems as if everybody wants to be a novelist. I’m sitting in my local coffee shop, where I retreated in order to — what else? — work on my own novel. The place is not crowded, but I count three others hiding behind their laptop screens. At the table beside mine, a man is explaining his screenplay’s entire backstory to a red-haired woman who cannot ask questions because of his rapid-fired explanations. He is in love with his flawed characters, his unique setting, his intricate plot. He pauses only to glance suspiciously over his shoulder at me as if afraid I will steal his ideas, despite the headphones firmly planted on my head.
I love to write in cafes, especially those, such as this one, that charge for internet access, thus removing the temptation to go online. (Which is why this entry will be posted after I am home — if I survive a return trip to my house. But more on that later.) Conveniently enough, relocating to a coffee shop also removes the temptation to clean house, talk on the phone, or admire my cats instead of work on my book — although I admit that it takes a special kind of writers’ block to encourage me to clean house instead of write.
Beyond those temptations, however, I have another reason for my change of venue: sheer terror. I’ve been sitting on the futon in my living room all morning, double-fisting mugs of tea and pretending to write, which means that I actually thought about my plot for a while and even wrote ninety-eight words. Then I updated my Facebook profile, read a few blogs, and played Jigsawdoku until my eyes glazed over. (I console myself with the knowledge that I’m really more of an afternoon writer, and I’m ahead of schedule anyway, but it doesn’t help much.)
And then around an hour ago I slipped into the kitchen to brew another cup of tea, and found the following sight waiting for me upon my return. Please pardon the fuzziness of the picture; there are limits to both my camera’s zoom lens and my willingness to risk my life for a clearer shot. As is wise, since shortly after I sneaked in a photograph, they lasered the UPS guy with their eyes. Then they ate him. I feared I may be next, so I grabbed a notebook and went into hiding. Another thing it turns out coffee shops are good for: covert operations. Just ask Mr. Movie Script, who still seems convinced I’m a spy.
Oh man. You had to post the link to Jigsawdoku. I haven’t done anything else in the hour since.
LOL!
Facebook. Yeah. I use that one as a distraction, too.
Thanks, Conda! As for the tea, my husband often just orders hot water when we go out, and dunks his own tea bags. (He’s very particular.) I usually just get water. But yesterday I needed that coffee shop!
Enjoy your caffeine break, Virginia! Oh, and if it’s all the same to you I won’t let the kitties know you find their fierceness amusing. Their poor little egos would be bruised beyond repair.
You’re welcome, Courtney! 😀 Actually, we’re supposed to exercise our brains, right? So playing it is actually good for you.
Chandra, it’s not the profile that gets me so much as Scrabulous, Parking Wars, Oregon Trail and all those other little games. They’re so addictive!
We call that look the “alien headlights”. *g* Cafe writing isn’t too loud?
I’ve never tried writing in a coffee shop – I think I’d get a lot of really funny looks if I tried round here!!
That’s awesome that you have a place to go. I generally need the distraction of the internet. I need to trick my mind into thinking everything is fun and games. It helps with my creativity too I think.
Do you have any of your work online? I’d love to read it
What a fabulous, interesting, entertaining and inspiring blog!!!!!! AND how/where did you get your design?!! Love it…
Can’t wait to come back regularly and read more!!
Bookmom, “alien headlights” ?!? I love it! Will have to remember that one. As for the cafe writing, somehow all the sounds just fade into the background. Don’t ask me how. And when there’s someone who’s especially loud (like Mr. Movie Script) I just listen to my iPod.
Christina, that’s sad! Of course, maybe there are others who are dying to write in your local coffee shops, and if someone would just start everyone else would join in. Then you could all look psuedo-intellectual. (Note: This works best if you’re wearing black but, well, choose what works for you.)
Ashley, unfortunately that’s what solitaire is for. Which means that I play it entirely too much. I just tell myself it helps me think. When I have internet access then I blog, surf the net, etc. Like I’m doing now, actually. And, nope, no work online. Except, well, this. I’ve heard too many horror stories of plagiarism, stolen ideas, etc. I’m sure that when/if I’m published I’ll post excerpts (probably a first chapter). But I’m far from that point, since I’m still working on the book I hope to use to find an agent.
Wow, thanks Amanda! I really like yours, too. You’ve really hit the ground running in the last few days, haven’t you? I think you’re off to a great start.
Are those eyes “real” or “photoshopped?”
Your cats are too funny!
I never could write in cafes–too distracting–until we got wireless internet at home. Now cafes seem like an oasis of calm, compared to the distractions of who might have poked me on Facebook or commented on my blog post 🙂