Coming to you this morning from a new (to me) Starbucks. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve stopped into a coffee shop such as Starbucks, on my own, to sit down. I don’t know if this is a cliche but I feel like I’m always reading that this is where writers hang out to write and as I look around I don’t really see any writer types.
I wonder what everyone is doing here on a Friday morning during normal “working hours”. The comfy chairs are all taken (I was fortunate enough to nab the last one!) and the tables with singles here and there are all in use, laptops open. Free internet browsing? Something to pass the time? People watching (like me)?
I have to say, it’s quite loud here. I don’t know if that’s typical for Starbuck’s with high exposed ceilings or just this location. I’ve never looked up before. It’s a good sized location, about twice the size of the one near my house. It’s also in a strip mall twice the size of the one near me. I do a disservice, I guess, by calling them strip malls since the stores in these malls cater to the upscale shopper (fine dining, fur coats, fancy clothes and jewelry alongside a pharmacy, post office and dry cleaner). This particular shopping venue is near my doctor’s office where I just came from.
So back to what we’re all doing here… I can only speak for myself in that it was a last minute decision as I was about to pass by. I made myself a coffee this morning and it was so bad I couldn’t drink it. Our Keurig is acting up again and I didn’t realize how bad the coffee was until I was on the way to my appointment. I brought one of the new writing books and the journal I bought last week in my bag today so I decided to try writing in a new venue to see if it sparks new ideas.
There are actually a couple of tables with people visiting and catching up. Or maybe they are sharing good news… or bad. Maybe they are getting support for a bad relationship they are in. Maybe they are seeking advice on how to deal with their kid’s teacher. Or maybe this is a daily thing for a couple of retirees. Maybe they wonder what I’m typing away on my phone. Maybe they think I’m composing a lengthy email to my husband or friend or boss. Maybe they don’t wonder at all!
When I have doubts about whether I am supposed to write, I think about all the things I imagine when I look around a room at all the people (characters) I see and the lives I give them in my mind. I’m pretty sure I can make up stories that will somehow come to life with my words. Here I go!