Coffee Novelist

Is this fiction?

Coffee Novelist

April 13, 2020

Is this fiction?

“Is this fiction?” But he wasn’t asking me. The young man checking me out at Von’s on the campus of Purdue University had asked his colleague if my purchase, Don Quixote, was fiction. With the category clarified, he returned to face me with an apology along the lines that he “should know”. Being who I am, I began a lengthy response intended to soothe the young man’s emotional state. I began with a rambling explanation of why I had decided to buy Don Quixote downstairs in the wonderful, cramped, used book section, which is the basement of Von’s, and ended with me apologizing to him for my ever learning to read in the first place.

I stepped outside intending meet my son and his friend, who were finding food somewhere nearby, the used copy of Don Quixote in hand. I didn’t buy it for this year as I have other books to read yet, porch reading weather permitting. I will read Don Quixote as part of next summer’s porch reading. It has become a tradition for me to let a “classic” or two come to me and then read them outside on my front porch where my ability to concentrate seems easier to access than indoors. Don will have to wait his turn.

Is this reading?

My mind and my feet then headed for the venerable Rice Cafe for the rendezvous. About a half block out of Von’s, my feet and mind went their separate ways, as is the norm. My mind took me back to this summer’s reading. It has included lots of Oscar Wilde, Hamlet. The Shakespeare Requirement, some H.E. Bates, the Bhagavad-Gita and The Longest Road by Philip Caputo.

I had taken The Longest Road and Tristam Shandy with me on my annual vacation trip to the Ohio River. This is a highlight week of the summer reading campaign. I was encamped in my delightful reading space on the deck facing the Ohio River on an almost too warm summer afternoon. The deck is raised two stories off the ground in case the Ohio River chooses to flood. I can reach out and touch branches and leaves while the river flows by me, powerfully indifferent. It is a wonderful spot to place the mind on a book.

Raindrops falling on my book

That afternoon some clouds formed rather quickly. This happens almost daily on the river. Since the deck space has a roof covering half of it so I did not stop reading The Longest Trip. My mind on the book, on the deck on the river, I did not, at first, notice that it did start to rain this time.

I heard a “smack!” about two feet in front of me at eye level. I looked up from my book. A large leaf was still shaking and a few tiny drops of water were dripping of it. A drop of rain had hit the leaf. The sound was so clear and close that it caught my attention. The leaf waved gently up and down a few times in confirmation of what I heard. A few scattered small drops of water clung to the leaf. “That” I thought, “Is what reading is.”

Is Don Quixote fiction? Hamlet? The Gita? The Longest Trip? It don’t matter. Categories are created to help us find books in book stores. The “Best of” and “Must read” books lists can be useful. However, it strikes me that reading what is prescribed implies that it is your fault that you are sick.

This is reading

At the core, reading a book is simply energy meeting energy. Like a drop of rain hitting a leaf.

Picasso Don Quixote Windmill

That moment of the raindrop falling from the sky among uncountable others on its never before falling path, hitting one leaf from uncountable others from a tree on its own slower, steadier, original to it, path was, for me, my mind colliding with my book. Not just The Longest Trip, but Tristam Shandy, Hamlet, all of my summer reading, in fact all the books I have ever read. It makes perfect sense to me. If only perhaps, because I have written a novel and am rewriting another, do I come to this conclusion.

The mind is constantly moving. Easy enough to see. Yet, I think, so is a novel, or any book for that matter. I put mental energy into Tripio. It is held there on the page and in between the covers for the reader to take that energy into their own mind. When they meet, a unique combination of energy is created. The raindrop and leaf replicated.

Back to my feet

Where does that leave me? Still looking for the Rice Cafe. I got a little lost. I hadn’t been on Purdue’s campus for a couple years. As for Don, he will have to wait his turn. I wanted to go back to Von’s and tell the young man who checked me out that Don Quixote should be filed under “mental energy’ or “leaf meets raindrop.’ But , luckily for him, after a couple more blocks, I stumbled upon the Rice Cafe.

A repost from about a year ago. I feel even more strongly about this today.

The Starbucks want ad

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April 12, 2020

**The original Starbucks want ad. From a newspaper.**

Going home again to find the want ad

Was it Thomas Wolfe who said you can’t go home again? Not sure why he said it. For me it was easy to jump in my car and drove two hours east to my birthplace of Dayton, Ohio. I wasn’t trying to prove him wrong or anything. I was trying to find the original want ad Starbucks had placed in the Dayton Daily News. The very same want-ad I had responded to which set off a series of events culminating in me getting a job with Starbucks in Chicago in the fall of 1990. Around this time three years ago, I was committed to the editing of the manuscript of my historical fiction “Starbucks” novel, Tripio.

I feel very fortunate to have worked with the editor I did on Tripio. This wise man suggested a more catchy “hook” for the opening of Tripio. Tripio does open deliberately and slowly as Jay is at his writing desk in his apartment, “shirtless and smelling a bit ripe”. Jay has been alone writing in his apartment all day. No car chases or explosions have suddenly taken place that afternoon. Tripio was going to be as close to a real life memoir as I could get away with. And yet, I couldn’t see his editorial reasoning right away. In fact, my first reaction was “Where is the patience, people? This is a novel with three intertwining and intersecting stories. One can’t rush writing this great!”

Where is the ad?

The wisdom of my editor did eventually make me come to my senses. I knew I had to make the opening more attention getting. I loved every comma of my masterpiece but that wasn’t going to make anyone else care about Tripio. My editor suggested I find a way to hook the reader as close to the start of the novel as possible. I based Tripio on several journals I kept for years I worked at Starbucks in the early 90’s. It made sense to review them for inspiration for the hook. I had not mined every line and scribble from those journals. Hopefully, there would be something still in them I could use for my hook. The search did yield something: a short scribbled reference to being “glad I saw that ad” on one of the coffee stained pages. I knew that was where I would start.

The ad said that I Must love coffee

I knew my hook was going to be that original Starbucks want ad. Fortunately, I remembered that the ad included the phrase “must love coffee.” I tried searching the internet using that phase. No luck again. With the “hook” analogy in mind, I moved the boat to a different spot on the water. I took a trip to the main library in Indy for help. Unfortunately their archives for the Dayton Daily News did not go back far enough. I think it may help to remind everyone reading that I we are not discussing today’s Starbucks. Starbucks was unknown outside of Seattle. I did find an old ad for Starbucks as it opened in the Los Angeles market. Close, but it wasn’t want I wanted. It was not the Starbucks want ad that I had to have.

At the Indy library I was given contact info for the archivist at the Dayton Daily News. I called him. He suggested I try to search the microfilm in person. Luckily, I have family who live in Dayton and I could arrange that easily. I did. The visit with my family went well. The search for the want ad did not. In short, I searched the microfilm for hours but came up empty. The search left me disappointed. Therefore, I had no choice but to prove Wolfe wrong again so I drove from old home to current home, this time heading west two hours.

Give it to the subconscious mind

A skill I learned during the writing and rewriting of Tripio now came handy. I needed my subconscious mind to give me the answer. This skill had served me well as I recalled names and places I needed to populate Tripio. I drove past cornfield after cornfield. I let my mind go off task. My subconscious mind nearly always came up with the answer my writing mind needed. I came to believe that the answers are always there. I let more cornfields pass. Suddenly, It occurred to me that in the summer of 1990 I was thinking of moving from Dayton to Chicago.

The realization hit me that the Starbucks want ad would have been in the Chicago Tribune and not the Dayton Daily News. I had been thinking in reverse. As soon as I docked at home I jumped on the computer and subscribed to a month of the Chicago Tribune archives. Within two minutes I had found the original ad. Success. After moving the boat and switching bait several times, I had hooked my hook. The original Starbucks want ad now is part of the prelude of Tripio. I can only hope it that it works as well on readers as it did on me!

Now that I’m a novelist

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April 8, 2020

Yesterday morning at this time my backside was here. I was revising, rewriting, reworking -you name it- my second novel, “Back outta the World”. This morning, I am using that very same backside to sit in the same chair and use the same keyboard. However that exact backside now proudly supports a novelist. Since you can’t ask my backside what all of this means, I will explain.

It means that “Back outta the World” feels finished to me, it’s creator. It is not at all the same type of feeling that came to me when I “finished” it the first time. That scene is brilliantly recounted in my first novel, Tripio.

Since I am posting about the here and now all I can say is that it feels great. I have achieved something that can not be taken away. That is the one statement that can apply to completing both Tripio and now Back outta the World. In fact the lyrics to the classic song, “They can’t take that away from me” are now running through my mind. For the record, ha ha, I love Fred Astaire’s version.

Where was I? Oh yes, on my backside. Sorry – can’t you tell I am in a good mood? Which brings me to the actual topic today: I am now a novelist. I have written two novels. No matter that I started BotW around 25 years ago. No matter that I finished it several times before. Not to worry that I started and finished, had edited and published Tripio in the meantime. The completing of Back outta the World cannot be diminished. Plus the two novels are creatively connected.

Today I want to share with you fellow creators out there this: it is worth to do all the work one must do to finish your novel, poem, story or whatever your writing may be called. It can’t be beat. I spent all yesterday in quiet, personal celebration. That is part of it. I have learned that no one else cares all that much what a writer’s emotional experience is or what was the cost was in time, effort and even money. No one else cares, nor should they, about what left undone while we labored on our creations. Just as well to keep those things between me and my backside. Celebrate and honor that moment when you have finished your personal journey with your novel. That moment is yours to keep forever. Yes, it is true that no else will really want to hear what it took to get your novel done. Then again you get have your own quiet, personal celebration when it is done at last. It is equally true that they can’t take that away.

“May I help who’s next?”

Recipes to help one write

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April 4, 2020

I realize that when we hear the word “recipe” we visualize a list of ingredients. Much the same happens when we hear the words “writing” or “book”. We visualize words on a page. We image an old Dickensian desk lit by a candle. Hunched into that candle light an old bastard scribbles something onto the top piece of a pile of papers.

But neither the list of ingredients nor the words on a page actually have their start on the page. Or the pen in hand. Or laptop. Just as eating begins in the garden, writing begins in the mind. So, my first Red Apron Recipe begins in the tool shed. The one where you keep the basic tools needed to work the mind garden from which your writing, or any creative endeavor, has the best chance to take root and grow your own unique story.

In order to prepare your mind to write or create, work must be done. If you want to eat, the same holds true.

I speak from experience. I had lots and lots of work to be done. I was starting with an arid rocky, weedy plot of land. I needed every tool in my shed. Below is a list of tools needed to begin work in your mind garden. I have attached possible uses for them. I call them my “Red Apron Recipes”

Big shovel-yoga

Smaller shovel-meditation

Gloves- walks in the park, neighborhood

Trowel- exercises such as cross training, running

Compost pile- dreams

Rake – journaling

Buckets, flower pots etc- sauna, whirlpool

Weed tool- intentional distractions such as drives in the country

It is your shed, your garden and will be your recipes and writing. In the coming days if you get into your shed and you use a tool or two, just notice how you feel afterwards. Pay attention to your thoughts during and afterwards. If you feel like it, write down whatever has come to mind. It takes time and practice. So try it again.

These tools worked for me over and over. They feel worn and good in my hands. And for me, at least, when it comes to the actually writing, that part that is supposed to so damn difficult, I practically tip toe through the tulips. Good luck!

“May I help who’s next?

Why do you write?

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March 16, 2020

I’m glad you asked. Because I get that question all the time. I get it from the people lined out the door for my book signings. I get it from stars of stage and screen who are having their people look into my novels for possible projects down the road. But, mostly and honestly, I get that question from my own mind. Not my subconscious mind. It gets me up at 4 am to write. But the woke and worried mind that the world is more comfortable with.

Of course there is no “one size fits all answer”. I could do any eye catching, scan friendly bullet point blog. It could be called “7 Reasons Why I Write” They are said to be popular and an excellent format to attract readers. Not today.

There is the option of a bullet point post of the contrasting informative intent. Something along the lines of ‘7 Mistakes Writers Make”. Also, not today.

What else was in it for me? Just to say I had done it? To look back in 20 years and then understand why I did it? That made as much sense as anything to me standing in the kitchen of a stranger’s house in Louisville.

The excerpt is from Jay in Back outta the World. It captures so much of what I like about revising BotW, after first completing it over two decades ago. I am having a great time looking back at me. Through that process, I am getting a clearer understanding of who I was, and who I am now. I do believe the newer me is writing a better BotW than the one I wrote two decades ago. This can be quite a humbling process, which in turn creates a nice vantage point to remind me not take myself too seriously.

The second answer I give to my adoring public as to why I write is that it is fun! Why not? My writing process is not a gut wrenching process. I do not spend hours searching for the perfect word. If I still used paper to write, I wouldn’t fill a waste basket with rolled up pages of discarded manuscript. I am not saying it easy. I think it would be more accurate to say that one cannot be taught to write, but you can learn how to write. I did that by clearing my mind. I began to understand and notice my subconscious mind. I trust it to supply me with what I need when I set down to write. It usually works. In this way, my time actually at the keyboard is productive. I am usually “in the zone”, having done most of my writing during yoga, mediation, on the cross-trainer or even while driving.

By now, I am sure, you have answered the question yourself. And, I am sure they are completely different from mine, as they should be. Write how you write. You have no choice anyway, just remember to have a little fun along the way.

“May I help who’s next?”

Ohio River Traditions

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March 11, 2020

Whitman. Twain. Melville. VanSchaik. (I’m the tan one)

Yes, that is a list of a few of America’s greatest writers. But it means something else to me.

You see, every summer for the past five years, I’ve managed to take a short mid year holiday at a rental house on the Ohio River. I discovered these rentals when I was hoping to escape the trials and turmoil surrounding my family several years ago. Since that first visit the mid summer trip to the holiday rental house has become many things.

It is still that getaway along the banks of the Ohio River. It is confirmation that my family and I are still here, surviving and even thriving for another year. It is the place that confirms I have worked hard all year and earned this time off. It also gives us the place to tell other folks we go “every year”, which presents to those folks a picture of stability in our lives. It is also simply fun to physically remove oneself from day to day life. Speaking for myself, I have also found spiritual renewal on the banks of the Ohio River. I will, can and must return every year.

As we have visited the rental house each year, we have created our own traditions: a visit to the “swimmin’ hole not far away, a trip to Tell City Pretzels, floating on inner tubes off the dock.

A tradition of mine is always bringing a book to read. Not just any type of book. One that is as American as the Ohio River, corn fields and small towns. So, I started with Huckleberry Finn. Last year it rained so I was able to read a good deal of Moby Dick. I most often buy a copy of the book I have chosen second hand, so I can leave it for the rental’s library- a wicker basket on the floor in the living room.

It is still winter as I write this post. It is a good time to be thinking of the summer getaway. I use my tax return money to fund this annual pilgrimage. That dinero grande is due in a couple weeks. I have already decided to add one more item to the list of traditions experienced on the banks of the mighty Ohio. This summer during the trip, as my future place in American Letters demands, I will leave a copy of Tripio in that wicker basket on the floor of the rental house.

May I help who’s next?

A dream for my novel

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March 7, 2020

“Society often forgives the criminal….it never forgives the dreamer.
– Oscar Wilde

I am willing to write this post on the proposition that anyone reading it has had daydreams for their novel, whether it is finished yet or not. A side bet I would make is that the dreams are not of the novel ending up on top of hundreds of other copies with it’s cover ripped off, resting in peace at a Walmart Returns Warehouse.

No. Hell no. My dream for my novel,Tripio, is that it ends up being made into a movie, perhaps produced by Tom Hanks or a person of like stature.

That said, I have the opening in mind for Tripio’s film adaptation. This dream for Tripio has been in mind for a while. Now, luckily, I am sharing it with you. Roll it!

Dominic Cooper would be a good choice to play Jay

Establishing shot-exterior– A crowded Chicago street corner in the early 90’s. Intro music in background as a bus pulls up to the corner.

Interior shot of passengers getting off the bus– A handsome you man (me obviously) hurriedly stuffs a notebook into his backpack and gets off the bus.

Quick cut to interior of Starbucks. Though familiar, it is a 90’s location and the store is trashed, the line of customers is long and staff are disheveled and tired looking.

Exterior shot-1990’s vintage Starbucks on corner from earlier shot-The young man is seen from a distance entering the Starbucks. I think distance works here to enforce that the young man (Jay) is still alone with his thoughts.

Cut back to interior of the Starbucks– Jay enters the scene. This shot is from the espresso bar. Jay carries himself confidently but wearily as he knows the closing shift ahead will be long. He wanted to stay in his apartment and work on his novel. He looks for a place in the long line of customers to cut through so he can get behind the counter and punch in.

A shot of a dozen customers in line, none paying attention to Jay– We hear bits of their conversations. Jay decides on a place to cut through the line. It is between two older men. As Jay politely steps through the two older men, we hear their conversation:

First Man-played by me : “You don’t like coffee? Well wait until you try this stuff.“

Second Man-played by Howard Schultz: “I’ll wait and see for myself.”

Jay pays no attention as he slides behind the counter. More customers have come in behind him. The two men continue to talk, oblivious to Jay. The line closes behind Jay as he disappears. This shot foreshadows that, later in the movie, Jay will be swallowed up by the growth of Starbucks.

I think it will make a great movie.

“May I help who’s next?”

What to do with Tripio?

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March 4, 2020

There it sits a few feet away. In book form. My book. The novel I wrote. What to do with it? The box actually arrived three days ago. I knew what was in the box and opened it with a kitchen knife. Tripio was bigger and thicker than I thought and expected. It didn’t “feel” like 333 pages when I was writing it. Wait, wait! On second thought, I did plan every word, comma and space. Because I wanted the final printed, for sale edition, to end up being 333 pages. Threes. Tripio. Three story lines. What I genius I am!

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Of course the above is nonsense. Except maybe the part about me being a genius. Actually, if I were that smart, I would have done something brilliant with my five proof copies of Tripio. Yet, after I took one out of the box and looked it over with a smile, I let them sit in that box for a couple days.

Those couple days later it is occurring to me that I think I was afraid I wouldn’t like Tripio anymore. Tripio arriving as a real book was like your best friend from high school or college dropping by after not seeing you in twenty years. Would you still like him or her ? Would he or she like you? I wanted to retrieve the journals I kept while writing Tripio and find the entries that I wrote in which I was excited about the creation of Tripio. I wanted to find the passage I wrote when I knew Tripio was great. I knew was doing all I could to write a unique and wonderful book. I did not. I simply went about my work week. I let some friends a family know that the proof copies were in my possession and that was about it.

I think that it felt odd to have Tripio back in the house because I had been practicing giving it away. I have made it an intention during my morning yoga to release attachments and expectations to and for Tripio. It is no longer mine. It does not feel comfortable to have it to myself again. Like the old friend whose jokes no longer makes you laugh. What do you then do? After a couple days the answer came.

I decided to take my old friend Tripio out in public where we could relax together and get reacquainted. That was yesterday, the third day after getting the proof copies. I packed Tripio in my bag and we headed off to Coat Check coffee https://www.coatcheckcoffee.com/.

It made sense. It was a way of coming full circle. Remember that Tripio was actually begat 25 years ago in Chicago’s coffee houses and early Starbucks locations.

So, in the spacious and calm environs of Coat Check, my dear old companion and I got reacquainted. The coffee of the day was an Ethiopian, always a favorite varietal of mine. This felt right. As the barista called out the occasional drink order in the background I read over the first chapter and felt relieved that I still liked my dear old friend. Relieved and needing to relieve myself, I got up to use the facilities. Upon returning to my table, I saw my old friend awaiting me, looking content and relaxed on that table next to my mug of coffee. It was Tripio at home again and sure all along that this would happen.

Tripio and I were still friends.

“May I help who’s next?”

I asked for a review and received much more

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March 1, 2020

I want my historical fiction novel, Tripio, to sell. And sell. And sell some more. If you have a book on Amazon, then I assume that is a goal of yours as well. To that end, I recently attended a class on just that subject. The class was called, “How to sell more books on Amazon”. Tripio was published last spring on Amazon and I had not yet formulated a coherent strategy to sell Tripio on Amazon. It was time to get to work.

I had heard from other sources that getting reviews was the most important and powerful thing you could do to help sell your book. I have one 4 star review to date. The class reinforced that I needed more. I have since made it a priority to relentlessly badger my dear family and friends who have read Tripio to write a review. I have done this with folks who I only see occasionally as well. Most, but not all, remain friends.

Earlier this week, I received an email from one of the person’s mentioned above. The first paragraph told me that the email sender had indeed placed a review of Tripio on Amazon and Goodreads! Eureka! Pay dirt. I briefly considered texting work with my two weeks notice. I did not. I quickly checked Tripio’s Amazon page to see the actual review. I forgot that it takes a few days for anything to happen on Amazon.

Fine. I settled down to read the attached email. In it, I found the true value, the reason, the validation for having written Tripio. It was worth way, way more than a mere review.

I am having a tough time with this post. I say that because I am only just now beginning to understand why Tripio came to be. I’m not trying to be noble, but those reasons had nothing to do with getting reviews or making money. Here in the email attached to the review, was captured why I wrote Tripio in the first place. To be transparent, I have known the person who sent the email their entire life. So the person had a proximity to Tripio that 99.9% of readers won’t have. The person understood Tripio to the last comma. Reading the attached email brought tears to my eyes. Every second I worked on Tripio was worth it. I had been validated. Tripio had helped someone. It may have inspired a friend of the email sender to begin writing. After reading the email, I thought I was done with Tripio. It has served its purpose. What could getting more reviews and selling more copies do for me now? Goodbye.

I can’t stop though. I have no choice. I can’t stop the journey of Tripio anymore than I can snap my fingers and stop my heart from beating. If Tripio is the novel I hope it is then I have to see it through. I hope readers can “feel” what the insider felt upon reading Tripio. Only time will tell. Time will tell if I am a good enough writer to enable any and ever reader to take from Tripio what the email’s author and I know to be in there.

I’ll pretty sure be able to tell when they leave their reviews on Amazon.

“May I help who’s next?”

What I hope for Tripio

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February 16, 2020

It is just past seven a.m. eastern time. I intended for this next blog to be follow up to the previous post, “Writer’s block?”. I wanted to backtrack and retrace my path to Tripio by emphasizing that I could not have produced Tripio without giving up booze. I will follow up, I promise. But today I can only state that there is nothing better than waking up on a Monday morning with a clear head!

The first thing I did this morning, using my clear head, was to check my phone. There was a message that had arrived at 12:51a.m. There was a photo attached. To get to the photo I had to think, enter my code and click. Way too much to do without caffeine. Luckily, the phone was on the way to the coffee makers. Yes, plural. I have a traditional drip maker and an espresso machine. I made it back to my phone, crema topped double espresso in hand, and was able to access the photo.

That is me as a Barnes and Noble manager. That would be at the time of the epilogue in Tripio. It was sent to me by my second oldest son, who also appears in the epilogue of Tripio, as himself. It is a good photo of me for a change. It ignited many strands of thought in my wonderfully clear and appreciative mind. I just wasn’t sure which strand of thought would take hold long enough to sit down and write about it. So, I did the dishes. to buy some time.

As I did the dishes I found today’s topic: My hope for readers of Tripio.

I hope that somewhere in Tripio that the reader can find a small piece of what I felt when I saw that old photo of me first thing this morning. Because the story of Tripio is truly the story of my life from my mid-20s on. I looked at the photo and saw so, so much. There was birth and death. I want the reader to take that from Tripio. There was jobs and family and money and sex. I want the reader to take that from Tripio. There is fear of what might happen and decisions about life that will affect you forever. It sounds selfish to start those sentences with “I want” but I have been asked that a lot: What do I want from Tripio? But what my answers mean is that I hope that what a little of what I left can be picked up, out of Tripio, and put into your own life. And when you are done reading Tripio, I hope you can say something like, “You know, things didn’t work out like I planned. But I do have a really good life.”

“May I help who’s next?”