Bernadette Benda

A writer.

A writer goes to their local Starbucks or artsy coffee shop. They get the usual, blonde roast or maybe a latte. They sit down at their usual spot and begin to work on the next bestseller, inspired by the atmosphere, scent of coffee, dim lighting, uncomfortable seating, music they don’t like, and people they don’t know sitting just a little too close to them –

No wait. It’s not supposed to go like that.

The assumed notion is that the ideal “spot” for a writer is a cozy corner in a coffee shop (Remember that post about your writing spot? Go read it). Because it’s sooooo artsy. Ok. Some writers do like coffee shops. A lot of writers like it. I guess this notion isn’t completely made up…

But. Like. Why. I don’t understand because –

I don’t stay in my pjs all day, and I’m usually decent enough for an emergency run to Target ( for coffee or creamer), but if I’m going to sit at Starbucks for a while…well, gotta brush my teeth. Gotta brush my hair and evict all the birds. Gotta put decent clothes on (Aka not sweaty gym clothes).

Yeah. I could show up looking like a bum with the Kraken’s breath. But I’d rather not offend the baristas or other customers (like what if there’s a cute guy?).

I also rather not put the work into looking nice. That’s an extra ten minutes gone away. I’d rather stay home. And take a nap.

So. I get dressed. 5-10 min gone. Gotta grab bag, notebooks, pens, binder, anything else I might need. Oh! Laptop, plug, phone, earbuds, wallet…another 3 min packing.

I have to eat something because I don’t want to buy food ON TOP OF BUYING COFFEE (more on that later). 2 min. Drink water. Run to bathroom.

Wow! 15-20 min later I’m out the door!

Aw shucks. I forgot the car keys. Dang it. Oh, look at that. The car’s low on gas.

And if it’s winter??? NIGHTMARE. Like, I have to pick something warm, but not too warm, just in case they have the heat on really high at the coffee shop. Then I gotta put on a coat, hat, scarf, gloves, mittens (?), boots, socks (socks first though). Then wipe snow off the car…

And there’s ice underneath.

That’s it. I’m staying home. *trudges back inside*

Like. At home there is a coffee maker. There is coffee. There is creamer. Why exactly am I leaving the house to go get a $3 cup somewhere else????

WHY??? WHY????? And then the barista doesn’t leave enough room for cream, and I have to awkwardly dump some out in the trash can. *weeps over loss of beautiful coffee*

Public bathrooms.

’nuff said.

Because it took so long to get out the door and drive to the destination (and fill the car up with gas) I have to stay at the coffee shop for a while to make it worth it.

Like, two hours? Three hours???? That sucks ’cause:

Bathroom (again, ’nuff said), I’m thirsty (could awkwardly bring water bottle or awkwardly ask barista for a cup. Or I could buy a $4 bottle of some fancy purified water from the falls of Themyscira. Nope to all options), I’m hungry (bringing food or buying food) and…

Like get up and dance around the room. Fling myself on the floor in frustration. Start singing to the music (um…supposed to be writing??), drop into the splits at random (talking to a dancer here), sit in weird positions, make verbal exclamations and mutter dialogue.

I can also chew with my mouth open and nobody cares if the chocolate misses my mouth and gets on my face. I can crouch on my chair like Gollum should I so choose.

I need to focus on important things here. LIKE WRITING.

That’s it. That’s why I don’t go. TOO MANY DISTRACTIONS. I’M PLENTY GOOD AT DISTRACTING MYSELF THANKS I DON’T NEED HELP WITH THIS ONE.

There is…someone out there who feel like this too? Right? RIGHT???