So today I'm just thinking out loud. I might consider this "being a writer" topic a little bit but I guess I'll talk about coffee shops first and then bring in the "writer" aspect second.
First, it kind of goes without saying that I am a fan of coffee, so the fact that there seems to be a coffee shop on the corner of every other street that I pass is not something I'm going to complain about. I haven't been in too many yet, but the few I've visited have no shortage of character. Some are always full of people who stand in lines that wind around wooden tables and there's the thick hot scent of coffee and machines constantly buzzing behind the counter. Others are almost hidden behind old architecture and sometimes--though on a busy street-- can be found almost empty at certain points in the afternoon. The menu is written in white writing on a dusty chalkboard behind the counter and a line of seats by the front window view make a plain americano with just one sugar the perfect afternoon drink. The people outside continue to pass right on by and I watch the sun's glare slide across the silver chairs on cobblestones just outside. Still more are above bookstores. Small and quiet and surrounded by books.
My favourite though is perhaps only about a 15 minute walk from where I live. Five pairs of white chairs with red cushions and a table between them sit outside glossy windows with the word "Bakery" displayed in large black-painted letters above them. Inside the lighting is slightly dimmed, oreo and caramel cakes sit behind the glass counter, and candles are at each table. I can hear Ben Howard's acoustic closely followed by Coldplay (to name only a few from that shop's wonderful playlist)and the light cinnamon smell is balanced nicely by the usually propped open door at the back of the room by the stacked stone fireplace.
In short, this is heaven for my writer's brain. At least when I walked in there for the first time (and every time since) I have thought so. Give me a hot coffee and a corner to myself and I'll dig a notebook and pen out of my bag and catch up on writing some poetry assignments for my next class, outline a character sketch for a short story idea, or even (call me crazy) get back to working piece by piece on that idea for a novel I shelved...6 months ago.
It seems ideal. Perfect even. And yet I haven't actually written there yet. Instead I usually write from my room. Random pages of a project I've worked on get scattered around me on my bed in no particular order, and my laptop screen shows me basic statistics from the state of Maine (the setting I ended up choosing for my project) as I scribble away in a notebook. Quite honestly, it's a lazy scenario. Because I'd much rather stay comfortable in pajamas, have no clue what state my hair is in, and most definitely not bother putting on any makeup, than go through the process of making myself look like I have actually been awake for a few hours. Plus there's the idea of braving the cold February walk to the shop when I could just stay here and make myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
More often than I'd like to admit, "comfort" wins and I can't say that I complain about it. I do however want to try being a "coffee shop writer" at some point, if only to compare the writing results from the two different settings. Plus, I'm sure writing inspiration would be slightly more varied in a different place than I'm used to. Ah curiosity.
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