Traffic is light. Mottled gray skins the sky. It's been a hunched cold, wet walk to the coffee shop, leaving me to wonder what happened to our faux spring. Shame that it left just as I arrived at its acceptance.
Prepping myself to write. Not quite ready. Have my double shot Mexican mocha at hand, chair in butt and laptop powered up, you know, the essentials of fiction writing, but I've not shifted into writing gear.
Alt folk rock is playing, coffee is being ground and something is being blended. I ponder the Beanerarians around the coffee shop. One women, seen here a few recent times, splayed fingers raised like a spider pausing on its exploration, is feverishly typing on a Notepad. John, fresh back from Saint Petersburg, Russia, is reading the NYTimes, as he always does, and Bob is completing the crossword puzzle. Eli the artists-teacher-barrista is on break, sipping coffee or tea, don't know which, contemplating the coffee scape. Painfully shy elderly Sharon the bookstore owner is drinking her coffee and reading a book.
Steve the pastor enters with the local paper. Coffee acquired, he heads to his regular place, a brown leather easy chair, to read. There is a white male stranger, brown hair growing out toward scruffy, bearded. He has a pen and stack of papers. First thought was he's a teacher grading students' work. Now I see that the paper is double-spaced. He treats and handles the stack as one piece, not a piece of a total. A manuscript being edited or critiqued, I suspect. I wonder if this is his work or if it belongs to another.
He is done. The papers are stacked, squared, organized. He busses his table, pulls up his hood, glances around, and leaves.
The first caffeinated chocolate sugar merges with my blood. A sentence for my novel enters my head. I'm not sure where it's supposed to go. Other words are trickling in. Characters are speaking, movement is stirring.
Time to write like crazy.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com