my writing sessions typically take place at Starbucks. [trust me, I'm rolling my eyes at the stereotype I now fulfill.] but I have trouble focusing on serious book writing when I'm in the apartment and attached to the internet. so I load up my tote bag with my laptop, a notebook, a journal, pens and markers, and sometimes my iPad, and head across the street.
when I write in the afternoons, I try to keep myself from a caffeine overdose by sticking with tea. I'm about to further reinforce another stereotype, but my drink of choice has become a black tea latte with soy milk and only one pump of sugar. [lately though, my Starbucks had been out of soy milk. I'm hoping this is not like when Costco ran out of V8 and it never returned. because that would be sad for my lactose intolerant self.]
when I write in the mornings, I drink black coffee. because in the mornings I need caffiene. desperately. and though I could easily make coffee at home with my adorable tiny french press before going over to sit and write, I choose to support a multi-billion-dollar corporation by sipping a $2 coffee because... I like it.
for months I just did my best to ignore the Chinese chatter around me and the generic music being pumped over the speakers. but a few weeks ago I had a most brilliant [and obvious] idea: headphones. since then, most of my writing has been done to a combination of Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits, Lana del Ray, Sufjan Stevens, and M83.
M83's hurry up, we're dreaming album was one I listened to endlessly while driving carloads of my life back and forth from NJ to MI last summer. it's electronic, but soothing, and I formed an emotional bond with this album relating to our move abroad. this morning at Starbucks I sat down with my grande brew and as the "intro" track played for what must be the hundredth time, I finally heard the opening lyrics. and at the risk of stereotyping myself, yet again, I will share those lyrics with you.
we didn't need a story, we didn't need a real world
we just had to keep walking
and we became the stories, we became the places
we were the lights, the deserts, the faraway worlds
we were you before you even existed
[you can also listen here, though the nature video is completely unrelated.]
I'm not entirely sure what the band meant, but what matters is what I heard in those words. I've been struggling with how to write this book, what to write this book about, and why I'm even bothering to write it. but I get it now. it's not about finding a story to write, because I am the story.
and that's all the random writing-related and vaguely philosophical thursday thoughts I have to bring you.
