The Pear Tree Blog

Posts Tagged ‘coffee shop author’

When I was young and aspired to be a writer, I had a vision of a life. It was a naively romantic vision and I find myself cringing as I share it with you now.

I saw myself set up in a big old house, ivy climbing up the side, seated at a table piled high with old books and several half-filled coffee cups – just enough room to accommodate a small typewriter (my vision predates the mainstreaming of computers). In front of me would be a large window with a sweeping view. The words, of course, would just pour out from my fingertips – clickity clack. When I wasn’t writing the Great Canadian Novel there, I would be camped out at my favourite coffee shop, Hemingway-like, inspiration hitting me like a double shot of espresso.

I’ve long since outgrown the first fancy. I’ve learned first hand that few freelance writers can afford big old ivy bound homes (unless they’re married to someone who actually makes some decent cash), that sweeping views can be unwelcome distractions and that there’s nothing ideal or easy about pouring your soul out onto a page (or screen).

I still like the idea of writing in coffee shops, however. You’ve probably read of my love for a good cuppa, but it goes deeper than that. Perhaps it’s the aroma, or the warm colours most coffee shops boast, that effects me. Maybe it’s the hum of conversations going on – an exchanging of ideas (some of them even good). Or just being in a relaxing place that allows your mind to decompress and free flow. Most likely it’s a combination of things that work together to stimulate my endorphins and get my creativity going.

Not that I’ve ever written anything of significance in a coffee shop. Mostly, I end up tweaking my To-Do lists, organizing my agenda or, well, laying my pen down and day dreaming while I sip slowly on a latte and watch what other people are doing.

I did write a news story in a Starbucks, once, a few years ago when I was covering a story in Penticton for The Province and needed access to wireless internet. I had to suppress the creative flow, however, since it was a sad story about a woman who had been murdered the night before.

Still. It was with this background that I learned about a new writing contest called Coffee Shop Author. The idea is to write the better part of a novel, book of short stories, collection of poetry or creative non-fiction in a favourite coffee shop. I think my skin tingled when I first read about it. It was like it was made for me.

Me. A writing machine, fuelled by good coffee and the occasional muffin. Sitting by the window, stopping every now and then to look out at the bustling street scene while mulling over a particularly catchy turn of phrase. Oh dear, it’s starting again – the romantic visioning. The idealizing.

Alas, with a small baby, an active toddler and a still-to-be-house-broken puppy all in my care, joining their ranks and spending several hours a day typing and slurping, slurping and typing, is not in the scope of reality any more than my ivy tower fantasy. At least not this year.

Although there’s still a little corner of me that says, “hang it all, just drop down the $30 and hit the coffee shop at night.” I just wouldn’t see much of my husband before the end of April (the deadline for submissions). I have until 15 March to think about it (the deadline for getting in on it).

It’s not that I have a story to write, short, novel or otherwise. It’s not that I want to win a trip to the Fernie Writers Conference. It’s not that I want that non-existent story to be published (okay, that I do want, eventually). I suppose I just want to live, if even for a month, a fortnight or a few days, to live that old ideal – what I once thought was a writer’s life. Before I became a writer and found out that life as a writer is just life. But with longer words. Because maybe there’s a Great Canadian Novel in me after all – I just haven’t found the right backdrop to help me tap into it…