Before Baby Boy came along, I was perfectly happy writing in my bedroom. It was relatively quiet (when Big Boy went to school at least), nicely decorated (even if I do say so myself) and had all the internet access a girl could ask for. Of course ,the quiet factor changed dramatically once Baby Boy came along. In fact, I’m pretty sure people two towns over can hear the noise from my house now.
So, I had to find a new writing venue. Since I as stopping at Starbucks for mass amounts of caffeine to combat The Baby That Will not Sleep anyway, I figured I’d settle in and write there. It only took me three weeks to figure out how to get free WiFi with my Stabucks card, and having caffeine readily available has been a godsend. Not to mention the yummy food they now serve. (I recommend the spinach feta wrap.) It’s not exactly quiet here, but at least no one is saying, “Mom, Mom, Mom, MOM!” In fact, I kinda dig the music selection they play here,
So why, you may ask, do I need to find a new place to write?
Here's the thing – I can’t just write with my nose to the computer screen. I have to stop and think now and then. I type like crazy, pause, look up, contemplate my characters’ next move, then go right back to typing furiously. And it’s in the look up and contemplate moments that I’m getting in trouble,
For example…
The ohter day I’m typing way. I get to pivotal point in my scnee. I look up, start the contemplation thing. My eyes wander over the room, not really seeing anything, but kinda just looking around. They rest on this guy across the room. He looks up, sees me, makes eye contact. I smile (cause it’s only polite once you’ve made accidental eye contact, right?) Big mistake. He walks over and asks what I’m working on. I say I’m writing a book. VERY big mistake! He sits down at my table, wants to know all about the book, then proceeds to tell me his life story and why I should write a book about him.
Half an hour of my precious writing time this guy wastes! I know, I could have just told him to take a hike. I should have pointed out that I write murder mysteries, so if I write about him, I’ll have to kill him. But he sounded lonely and I just couldn’t be that mean. Instead, I finally faked a phone call (“What’s that you say? The house is on fire? I’m on my way home!”), packed up my stuff and left.
I could chalk this up to an isolated incident, but it’s the third time this week it’s happened. Bottom line, I need to find a less friendly place to write. Somewhere where no one knows your name, where people mind their own business, they dislike and fear each other. Any suggestions?
~Trigger Happy Halliday
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