Scenes from a Coffee Shop

It’s Friday. Thanks be to God.

I’m not quite done with the work week. I have to travel to Natural Bridge tomorrow. True, there are worse places to have to go to work.

There are also better days in the week to have a work meeting. But, I’ve lost that battle.

For now.

If you’ve been following my musings lately, you’ll know that I’m attempting a schedule of rising very early,

Mug Shots
(click the pic)

going to the gym, then hitting a coffee shop to write.

I’ve been using the time for my daily thousand plus words goal that I started back in July of 2015. I started with a different purpose. More about that on Monday.

It occurs to me that I may not be taking advantage of all of the opportunities afforded me in a coffee shop. That of people watching…no let’s say observing, that sounds less nosy…but also of eavesdropping which is a bit nosy.

If you haven’t realized it by now, people are fascinating.

Truth in advertising, I’m actually writing this in a coffee shop on Thursday afternoon, following a most painful work meeting that did happen on a work day, but I got out early enough to hit the gym and spend almost an hour in the pool.

That’s right, almost. Nature called and I wasn’t going to pick up the phone, so to speak, in the pool.

You’re welcome.

All that to say that I haven’t really found or observed a great deal whilst writing this. But then there’s was the time on Monday when the barista asked a gentlemen how he was doing and we got his sleep history for the weekend, of which there wasn’t much.

I kinda felt sorry for the guy. Get him his coffee. Stat.

So what I’ve been toying with is a series of Friday posts called “Scenes from a Coffee Shop.” It’s a work in progress.

And yes, I am fully aware that a few months back I labeled Friday as “Short Story Friday.” When I write another worth posting, it may be here as well.

May.

As in next year.

I digress.

Anyway, this whole writing thing continues to be a work in progress.

For a long time, I worked with the idea that I would become a freelance copywriter. That would allow me to build up enough income to supplement my retirement, thus allowing me to retire early (see Maths are Hard).

But, there’s only one problem with that scenario. I mean other than it not working and me not making nearly enough money.

I don’t want to be a copywriter.

There, I said it.

You may not get the significance of this.

I don’t really want to write about widgets, and dental hygiene, and exterior lighting.

I know this because I have written about those things, and been paid quite nicely.

Although I still can’t buy a boat.

You know, most writers dream about writing the great American novel. But, I can’t take off and write from a cafe in Paris and depend on my publisher to send me advances.

And, that’s okay.

Thing is, while I know I intend to finish and publish any one or six of the novels I’ve currently got on the shelves, I’m also enjoying being a playwright.

Auditions for Clean Dry Socks: Diary of A Doughboy, are next week. I’m pretty excited about seeing this on stage.

I’d been assuming that once that happened that I would return to the novel I neglected while I was finishing the script.

And, I intend to. It’s just that I’ve got these two new script ideas.

That’s right. Two.

It’s a struggle. It’s a journey.

And, when I get the chance to sit in front of the keyboard and do the word putting togethering, it’s a helluva lot of fun.

In a perfect world, I could take that early retirement. But it’s not a perfect world.

I mean, you’ve seen the news this week, right?

I digress.

For now, I have to be content to do the day job, even when it makes me work on Saturday.

But, I’m taking some time off next week. No one should work on their sixtieth birthday.

Unless it’s writing in a coffee shop.

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