Caffeine doesn’t give me a jolt. That is not why I sit in a relatively newly opened cafe, on a cold January day.
It’s the chilled air of January in Canada that gives me that jolt, as I go on a downtown wallet hunt. Thankfully, I left it at a cousin’s hair salon.
I look through the lens of my writing. I visit this cafe to find a next great writing spot, a place where creativity may blossom and bloom, but I must learn my surroundings first.
Coffee, like everything else, seems to have a light and a dark. Huh. Hmm.
A bitter sip and my attention is on the super laid back atmosphere of this local joint, rather than remember the more bitter moments, those ones I am moved to write stories about.
This place doesn’t seem to live up to my deeply held expectations of what a writing spot should be. I view the rustic feel of cafes in my past, on my travels, in Ottawa and in Whitehorse and somehow Woodstock isn’t like those.
I am not in Ottawa. I’m no longer in Whitehorse. I am back in my hometown and in the middle of the cold of winter.
My writing is in freefall as I see it. I still hope to land somewhere solid.
I may land and be jolted by the rocky ground. I can’t tell at this early stage of a new year.
People just expect me to be on some kind of roll with my writing, as I ended off the previous year. I can’t say either way.
Coffee near my laptop scares me.
Maybe they won’t mind me coming in there and writing, without buying something. If they come to my table, I might request a drink or a snack.
So typical of me though, to only ask when asked, to wait to be spoken to, instead of doing the speaking on my own.
I stated my declaration: “stoker” will be my word for 2018 and that means having opinions and making them known.
Not to wait to be heard, to take a stand on what’s important. All the coffee in the world, the jolt it provides, may never be enough.
Most people can agree on coffee, if nothing else, and this prompt word is brought to us
for the 9th day of January.