Friday, April 19, 2013
There are a few essential things every writer needs
1: Something to write on; be it a laptop, pen and paper, or stone and a chisel. Check.
2: A story. Something to tell. That's not the hard part. It's usually the very reason you sit down in the first place. Check.
3: A writing space. Generally a place with a desk of some sort.
4: Peace of mind.
If you noticed, I did not check 3 and 4 of the essentials.
For reasons I don't want to get into, I have not had my proper writing space or peace of mind for a few weeks now and have spent every writing moment at places like Starbucks, The Coffee Bean, and Panera bread.
The problem with those places is that you cannot control the people or events around you, no matter how much telepathy and telekinesis you've practiced...trust me on this, I tried.
So, I was sitting at Panera bread in the middle of rewriting a very hard/emotional/plot turning scene and there was a 5 year-old boy at the table next to me screaming: "I H-ate you! I H-ate you! I H-ate you!" to his mother.
His mother, looked like she wanted to shoot herself, and was practicing I'm-ignoring-your-request-because-you-won't-always-be-able-to-get-what-you-want-in-life-and-this-is-a-valuble-lesson.
A very good lesson in life indeed, and I don't disagree with the fact that she refused to give him the cookie because he'd already been rewarded a danish after he finished his sandwich. But, in that very moment I was supposed to be deep into a scene feeling everything the characters were feeling so that it would come out legit, and I was thinking...well let's just say there was an inner monologue rated R.
So I packed up Ricky-Bobby (my laptop), gave the mother a smile, because I felt for her. Then gave the kid a smile too because, man, sometimes you just really want a cookie.
I moved to The Coffee Bean and planted myself and Ricky-Bobby outside because it was a really nice day. As I sat there in the shade of a tree, going back into my very intense scene, I heard bird song from the tree above. I thought it was nice. I was pretty sure my day was turning around and that I'd finally found a spot so perfect even the bird couldn't help but to brag about it in song.
Yes, that was what I thought, until he pooped on Ricky-Bobby.
My brand new laptop. I suppose looking back, I'm happy it wasn't me he decided to poop on, but at that moment, I felt horribly bad for Ricky-Bobby. I moved immediately to prevent an encore and ended up back at Panera bread, hoping that the lovely, screaming, mother and son team had left. They hadn't but, I found a much better spot on the other side of the restaurant.
I had a full fifteen minutes to enjoy my new spot until a scream-talker sat down in the booth next to me. If you've never come across a scream-talker, BEWARE.
It's a vicious human who prays on your ears as he uses his powerful voice to take you down. The creature won't be satisfied until you're either def or crying out in frustration because no matter what you do, his voice is all you can focus on.
Note to self: Never leave your iPod at home again, thinking, "Meh, probably won't need it."