Writing can be too dang solitary. Lots of writers work in coffee shops because being near other people gives them the ability to cop a buzz of energy. I laughed today when I passed the village coffee shop, snickered at the ludicrous image of myself trying to focus on writing there. Since I write non-fiction, maybe this is a stretch toward making new patterns, the following imaginary interaction which is fiction:
The men nod, but fall silent as I enter their domain. I try giving each a respectful flash of eye contact that’s neither so long it might possibly enflame passion nor so short that it appears I’m a shy child. I tip my head toward all seven of them as I say “Yasas.” Their raucous laughter has skittered away, replaced by the void of shocked silence and their eyes flashing volumes of suppressed conversation between them. It’s insane, they begin to mutter. The one with the largest mustache rises and strides out the open door, scowling back at me, his eyebrows twitching. It’s too sunny to sit outside at a table-I couldn’t see the screen in the midday glare and it’s not much better in the corner, so I have to angle my notebook and scrunch down in a position that makes my neck ache even before the woman comes to take my order. There’s no hope of them having decaf, so I don’t even ask. I do enjoy a Greek coffee but…it’s a small shot that packs a lot of caffeine. You knock it back in six sips and then there’s the glass of water which you could drag out into a half hour affair, at best. It’s not as easy to nurse as a latte. And when the beverage has been consumed, there I am: the Foreign woman squatting in the men’s territory: The coffee shop. The laughter resumes; it’s good I don’t speak Greek because I don’t need to know precisely what’s being said about me. These old timers know all about laptops. People use them to watch porn. Period. That’s the one and only thing they do on them. Ever. And look at me with my nose almost touching the screen- my God what a nymphomaniac I obviously am! Brazen hussy dragging her obscenity right into the last bastion of Cypriot male sanctity- to their coffee shop! Filthy slut.
Yeah, what a charming work day that would be, eh?
This site seems like a better alternative today. Yesterday I entered my first writing contest ( Creative Nonfiction on the topic of weather)and now here I am starting this site because my babies need to see the light of day. I’ll never be as good a writer as I ache to be, but I’ve graduated to the stage where I need to join a community. A single expat American woman living in Cyprus, I’m writing a memoir-a big ambitious first book that’s teaching me how and why I write. I write to connect. I write to learn. I yearn to meet fellow travelers and writers in every nook and cranny of the globe. Whether you’ve put your work into the glare of the light or are just coming to be ready to do that, like me, I’m joining the tribe and I hope to be of some use to you.