6 April, 2013
When I write in my favorite coffee shop, Barista, the web is automatically connected. You’d think this was a good thing, and I do too. But, when I’m focused on my writing, it’s the worst thing ever. The temptation to check fb, twitter, etc. is pure evil. And, unfortunately, writing a new blog entry is dangled in front of me like the proverbial carrot. So, lately, I’ve taken to getting in the Smartcar and tooling the short trip to Peet’s. Yes, Peet’s has Wi-fi capability, but I have never asked for the code to get online. My hand flinches towards the Explorer button, then falters. Then I open my book and write. It feels like going underground. Forced into what I came to do. It’s to the point and I love it. Plus, the coffee is great.
I don’t have this problem with my practicing. Nothing can distract me from my music. Discipline is my middle name. But my writing is more delicate. I’m not happy about that.
I’m at Barista today, connected to the web and to my blog, which I love.
The plot in my book has taken me underground to a spooky place called an oubliette. A small confined space, in this case, part of a dungeon, two floors under the main floor of the castle. That’s where you’ll find me this afternoon. That’s as soon as I disconnect from you. Adieu.
Writer Gone Underground
6 April, 2013