Coffee Novelist

I don’t write about coffee, I write about what coffee does. How it collects us, unites us and affects us.

This is a repost for National Coffee Day 2023

Today, I am going to write about how pleased I am to be able to be enjoyin’ my coffee once again. The past month I have experienced many disruptions to my mind, body and soul. It is not recommended to dwell on the past, so I won’t.

Coffee is a thing

What I will do is express gratitude for simply being able to taste, savor and enjoy a cup of coffee once again. Yes, I know coffee is a thing. I see many blogs out there with coffee tie-ins. I see blogs started with the first, second or even third post being reviews of coffee houses, coffee drinks or coffee makers. It is a good choice to do this because coffee can and often does attract clicks on said blogs. A blog on coffee stands a better chance of getting noticed than one about shirt buttons, for example.

Image result for Buttons. Size: 131 x 133. Source: www.istockphoto.com

I am writing about coffee this morning for my own reason. I am writing about coffee because I don’t have a choice. You see, I’ve been at this coffee thing since the late 80’s. As I say above, I was deluded and separated throughout June. I sorted through and crawled out of the wreckage day by day. I have slowly returned to myself. There have many other small milestones and I have passed as I cleared the debris from my mind. However, being able to sit on my porch with my ritual cup of straight black drip coffee brings a historically personal confirmation to my day.

Enjoyin’ my coffee this morning

The two cups I have had this morning did not make me anxious. In fact, the opposite took place. The ritual morning coffee reassured me. It reminded me that I have overcome many other trials and tribulations over the past decades. The repeated sips collaborated with my clear, energized mind. The mind I recharged with real night of unpolluted sleep.

The list of things I left behind over the past weeks is quite lengthy. Some of these I will sadly never be able to get back. Others I simply will never be able to recall. I am looking forward to appreciating many people, places and things once again. I chose coffee from that list because this is partly a coffee blog and because as I said, I have no other choice. Simply put, if I’m enjoyin’ my coffee once again, that means I’m enjoyin’ my life again.

 

Still enjoyin’ my coffee two years later

 

 

 

 

The value of writing Tripio  

 My coffee is weak this morning. I have already had my double espresso and as the clock passes 6 a.m. I am clear headed and ready for a long day. Later this afternoon I will be headed to my “Building your own Blog” class at the Indiana Writers Center. As I produced this content, this blog is mostly a concept.                                                                    

 I put down my weak-ass drip coffee (I think I need a new brewer since I just discovered a small puddle of water next to my brewer a minute ago) and began to collect relevant notes for my blog class. I noticed that I have three folders entitled “Chicago Days”. One is black, one is green and one is beige. Curiosity got the better of me and I began to look though the beige one which is oldest and most beat up one.

Used Books for sale

I hadn’t looked these pages over since spring of twenty seventeen. So, I had a go. After just a couple minutes I came across the page that became the opening of Tripio. It is not the prologue, which is younger by nearly twenty seven years. This is the opening passage of Tripio, where Jay is “sitting at my writing desk, shirtless on a muggy day in Chicago.”

             

Re-writing and editing changed this passage to some degree. In reading the passage twenty eight, now close to thirty, years later, I am struck by many thoughts. Perhaps the least disputable one of them all is that when I sat down at my typewriter in my second floor apartment in Lakeview that day, I did not do it with the intention of starting a novel.

That fact that it happened, for me, is what is as interesting as the actual writing of the novel itself. I see the words on the page. The page is aged and stained and a large piece on the middle right hand side is chipped off. The words on this page have stayed the same. I have changed them. That is the only way it makes sense to me. How else could this passage become the beginning of a novel called Tripio?

Not the sticker price

More recently Tripio has changed. As soon as it came from my editor as the final assembly, I began thinking about publishing it. It is the thing to do, right?  Like I said earlier that was not on the mind of that angry young man at his typewriter in Lakeview nearly three decades ago. His words have stayed the same, but he has changed. Hasn’t he?

I would prefer to conclude that I have uncovered the better Jay. The Jay who was there all along and needed to be uncovered. I know a second thing for sure, that the writing of Tripio has been an essential and vital part of that journey. Which is, for me, the real value of Tripio, published or not.

 

 

 Some writing with your coffee?

It is not yet seven a.m. on Sunday morning. And I have been up for close to ninety minutes. This is my schedule. I have come to the conclusion that sleeping in is overrated. This is my day off and one hears a lot about how others relish the chance to “sleep in” on their off days. I can’t, even if I try, I can’t. So, I get up and make coffee. Or, I simply warm up the leftovers from the day before and get to work. I always, always, always have a cup of coffee near me when I write.

                       

This brings me to Stephen Fry.  Why Fry? Well, I read once that when he was working on a screenplay for Peter Jackson he could not get going on it to save his skin. It took him awhile to understand the reason but it struck him that at the time he was working on the screenplay he was trying to give up smoking. Smoking energized his mind while at the same time the smoking ritual calmed and rewarded him as he wrote.  I feel almost exactly the same about my cups of coffee. This morning, I am wondering if I could have written Tripio without coffee?

No Starbucks, no coffee, no way.

   One indisputable answer is no. No coffee, no Starbucks. No Starbucks, no Tripio. Starbucks did not invent coffee. I drank plenty of coffee before Starbucks was available. In Tripio, Jay refers to a coffee house where he was working before he moved to Chicago. And even after Jay is working at Starbucks, he often goes to a favorite coffee house that “sat on an alley under the El tracks”. I come by my love of coffee honestly. Hey, I loved coffee before it was trendy and pricey.

    The point here, however, isn’t how cool I am. I was thinking as I started this post that it could be a bad thing that I believe I have to have a cup of coffee within arm’s reach anytime I write. At times, I know that I will not drink the contents of the mug but that I have to have it close regardless. If I were feeling somehow inadequate about myself for not being able to write without coffee near, I arrived at the conclusion to stop it. One reason is that I am in good company with Stephen Fry. The second is that I would have never responded to the Starbucks want ad if I hadn’t already loved coffee. For proof I refer again to Tripio and Jay thinking to himself “about the only real qualification I have is that I’m a coffee lover.”

Read, write and coffee today.

    And I am not alone! The spectacular growth of Starbucks confirms this. If you are reading this blog with a cup of coffee nearby, then drink up!  And, if you are doing so at your local coffee house or Starbucks then that’s even better. If you have come across this post on National or International Coffee Day 2023, that may prove that coffee is as much a part of your life as it was Jay’s. How cool is that?

 

This is a repost. I changed one word and one number from last year, again.

 

Why I bought a book

 

This was the second time I had stopped into the independent bookstore closest to me to try to get them interested in carrying my novel, The Trier. The first visit I left my promotional signing card, my business card, and, I thought, a good impression.

I had heard nothing in a week from the decision maker. Clearly I had done something wrong this first time. I knew what it was. I did not leave an actual copy of The Trier, for them the first time around. How could the decision maker decide to carry my novel based on a postcard tossed onto their desk?

This second visit went smoothly. This time I left real copy of the book for the decision maker. A different bookseller assured me that things take time and that they would respond via email with a follow up.

“Ok,” I said. “But I am having a signing at Tomorrow Books in two weeks. Just so you know.” This had to help. It made me look legitimate, like the decision maker better get back to me before it is too late.

“Fine.” Replied the bookseller.

Decision time

What now? That was all I got back? The bookseller, nice enough in the way the bookseller on the first visit was. A pat on the head. Now go chew your on your old tennis ball. However, he did not rush to text the decision maker about my fast dwindling availability. What now?

Buy something. Of course. Buy a book to sell a book. I’ll do just that.

But which one? Why do they have so many? Which one will make me look best in the eyes of the bookseller and decision maker. Why did these people have to write all these damn books?

I was taking too long, looking indecisive. Not good. It isn’t a library, fool. Buy something.

I had to make the right choice, something coffee related. A lot of great author’s drank coffee. Pepys wrote his famous diary in a London coffee house. Rimbaud actually sold green coffee for a living.

I felt the alarm on my internal clock go off as I looked up to see Henry Miller, Happy Rock by Miller’s long time friend Gyula Halasz, known as Brassai. This is it. Upon purchase, I can explain to the bookseller how this book ties my own two novels together. I used Henry Miller’s made up word, Cosmodemonic one hundred ninety nine times in Tripio. And in The Trier is a ultra-witty reference to Brassai that the copy editor had to ask me to explain. This will work. The perfect conversation piece to display my worthiness of an email response.

The perfect choice

You remember I said it was the closest bookstore to my house? That makes it very likely that I may run into someone I know. Which I did as I was checking out. She must have walked in while I was in back, focused on appearing calm. She had a couple books in hand and we exchanged pleasantries upon seeing one another.

The person in front of us paid. As we stepped up to pay the pleasantries became inquires. My friend asked, “Why are you buying a book by dirty old man Henry Miller?”

“Oh,” I said looking askance at the bookseller, ” I just like to do my Christmas shopping early. My brother loves him.”

I paid for the book, she hers, and we resumed pleasantries as we left.

I spent the weekend reading Happy Rock and checking my Gmail.

Let me know when you get a response.

I owe the planet for my coffee

 

I owe the planet for all the coffee I’ve consumed over the years. So, when I was invited to the Hooser Climate Party on Indianapolis’s Massachusetts Avenue, I had to attend.

The invitation was extended as a indirect result of the recent book signing event for my novel, The Trier. In the novel, the “bad guy”, Kaldi, is running through time from the forest spirits of Ethiopia for not leaving his tribute to the forest for having discovered the coffee and all it’s wonderful attributes. I felt that I could not write a book with a plot line like that and not leave my own tribute, as it were.

                                               http://www.carbonneutralindiana.org

Starting to pay it back

I went to the Climate Party in part to see what I could do closer to home, and in the present, to combat global warming, climate change, and the failure to pay the planet back for what it has provided us.

I knew none of the several hundred people at the event. The plan for the evening was for folks from all walks of life to get to know each other, talk, and trade experiences on trying to become carbon neutral. It turns out that I am not as far along as I thought, plot line of my published book notwithstanding.

The intention for the event was not to shame people for what they haven’t done. It was meant as a starting point for people who didn’t know where else to start on the path to becoming carbon neutral in their lives. I listened, ate some free food, and even forced myself to meet people, which was not easy for me.

 

Toward the end of my time I ventured to the table holding the tree and tablet next to it.  Your answer was meant to be written on one of the ribbons and on the cardboard tablet. I was one on the few who wrote both on the cardboard tablet and ribbon. Can’t help that self-publishing is in my blood.

I still drink my coffee but will leave my tribute going forward

My answer was obvious…”my coffee.” It was a gesture, a quick thought acted upon. The latter is the same process that has taken us to the point where we have to do something about the climate. The same week of the event in Indy, the world experienced it’s hottest month on record. My quick thought acted upon could have been tossing a plastic water bottle onto the curb. Or not. I can keep a box or bag in my car for the water bottles and recycle them at the end of the week. Perhaps I can plant a garden, or take the bus to work once a week.

The list of options is longer than my novel. I think is was a Hoosier legend name John Wooden who said that little things make big things happen.

And if I have to act on a couple little, quick thoughts from time to time to help the generous planet, I suspect that I will enjoy my coffee even more.

 

 

I just feel like people don’t think about policy and regulations with an empty plastic bottle in their hand.

 

My decision to self-publish was found in a brown paper bag

“Could there be some silent audience eagerly awaiting his new novel? Some hidden force unrecognized by the publishing and critical world of New York City, which, like an orbiting space station, looks upon the rest of America without ever interacting with it?

-excerpt from Less is Lost by Andrew Sean Greer

I can’t help feeling that the space has contracted, that our national
literature has been reduced. We live in a nation of 3.8 million square miles. The Big Five
publishing houses are located within a few subway stops of each other in Manhattan; that
rich island which represents 0.000887 percent of our country’s surface. This is not benign.
Our literary culture has distended and warped by focusing so much power in a singular place, by crowding the gatekeepers into a small ditch of commerce. A review in the Times trumps
everything else. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect what is, finally, bound into books,
marketed, and sold. Which designates what can be said and how one says it. Why do we cede
American letters to a handful of corporations that exist on a single concrete patch?”

Matthew Neill Null

Big Five or self-publish?

The top except is from a novel I’m reading entitled Less is Lost. I read it and laughed out loud. The quote stayed with me and hours later, I found myself digging into my archives to find the syllabus from a class I took at the Indiana Writer’s Center about five years ago called, The Basics of Self-Publishing, taught by local YA author Robert Kent. The second excerpt is from that class.

I may not have followed up on the top excerpt if I hadn’t just put my second novel out on Amazon and Ingram Spark. I resist using the word publish in relation to Amazon and Spark because they are platforms, internet shelf space, static things. They do not align with any active verb. When you chose to self-publish, you very much self publish.

After two novels, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  However, looking back, I chose the path of self-publishing, author-directed publishing, or what ever you like to call it because of a brown paper bag. It’s true. Was is the most rational, emotion free decision I’ve ever made? Probably not.

 

The Big Five publishing houses are:

 

One critical element that I feel is missing from the Null quote is that the folks at the Big Five are folks whose jobs depend on the books they chose to publish. Because it is their job to sell books. Why risk delivering subs on a bike in mid-town Manhattan for your novel?

This seems familiar

Years ago I was trying to get my first novel Tripio published via the traditional method. It was what I knew, what I was supposed to do. All you writers out there know it: query letters, find an agent, submit, submit, submit. It didn’t take long for me to see this as another job search. Searching for a job you knew you could do when you needed it, really needed it.  If you haven’t’ been in that position, consider yourself fortunate.

Here is that part where I expect you think me a little wacky. Well before I could even think about sitting down for five minutes a day, let alone writing a novel, I was laid off. Sent home jobless, over a Christmas season with four young kids at home. Laid the fuck off.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

I will always remember a neighbor, two days before that Christmas bringing us shampoo, bar soap, toothpaste. The neighbor had been in similar position a few years ago and offered the brown paper bag full of necessities as a gift, not charity, not as a label that said she thought my family’s situation was hopeless. The brown paper bag was filled with practical things, which my kids, wife, and I all used over the Holidays that year.

So when I started looking for agents, submitting to publishers, it brought all this back. I had spent way too much time writing cover letters, filling out applications, submitting access to my livelihood to people whose livelihood depended on a decision they made. Hire that guy. Sell a book. It is a process too much like that of a writer hoping to get noticed by a publishing house.

The cat is out of the bag

I looked for a different option. One I hoped would be more transparent, less subjective. After a bit I found the alternative universe of Self-Publishing.

Was this an abstract thought process? One made without emotion? No. First of all there is no such thing. No. I recognize that. I even understand that one day I may sign with a Big 5 house and look back on all this shaking my head, knowing better, knowing I was being foolish.

But I doubt it.

Is inbred too strong a word?

I feel like any value or use found in a post called a leave in for the mind, will still have value a couple years after it was posted. That is the point, isn’t it? I posted these leave ins a couple years ago, and feel like they hold up. See what you think.

1. The mind is only one click away from your purse, wallet and credit card
2. Mistakes are self created learning opportunities
3. You can only really see the big picture when it is still small
4. Prepare for the long haul but take a few swings at the long ball
5. There are a lot of people doing a lot of jobs a lot worse than mine
6. Talent, if there is such a thing, is hard work photoshopped (this one is a bit dated by the reference to photoshop)
7. As a writer, when you are writing, you must not be the one telling the story (this one was proven to be even more accurate when The Trier was undergoing editing)
8. I spent yesterday making tomorrow a good day
9. It is good to do what you can, but even better to do what you can’t
10. You can’t go through each day looking for sharpened pencil
11. Before you spout it, doubt it
12. If there are only two sides to your story, don’t bother telling it
13. If one of us is, then we all are, because we all are one

                                                               I think 8 is still my favorite

 

It was great

I had a great time yesterday.

I went on a antiques road trip in southwestern Indiana with two of my young adult kids. We stopped at antique shops, some open, some closed, some big, some small. We drove a loop that took us to about six hours, stopped to eat, and found a few things to buy. And for me, one of the many great things about the whole trip was that I did not drive a mile of it.

I have driven the young adults all over Indiana for well over twenty years and now it is my turn to be a passenger. And it was great.

It is great

Great to sit in the back seat, take in rural Indiana on July 4th weekend and allow my mind to go where it wants. In the front, the driver and navigator were doing much the same as my mind, just going along the path, and stopping anywhere that looked promising. They stopped at antique stores, while my mind stopped repeatedly at the word great.

It did that because a few nights before the trip, I watched a documentary on AMC called, Something’s Gonna Live.

A few weeks before that, my second novel The Trier came out on Amazon. A few months before that, it was edited, proofread and revised. And the year or more before that, I was working on bringing it out of my mind and putting the words on the pages.

 

These were a great road trip snack

So, what do I tell people about the book now that it’s out there? I would tell them, and have told folks, that it is great. But, how the hell would I know?

 

Is it great?

I know for sure that the times I spent working on the bringing the book out of me were spent alone, very early in the morning, and witnessed only by my ever present coffee cup. No one insisted I do any of it. No one really cared if it happened or not. But when a paragraph or even a line or two was realized on this screen, usually after several revisions and mornings, I had a great time.

Which brings my back to a the quote in the movie that stuck in my mind. I found it there on the antique road trip around Clayton, Indiana and a small farmer’s market. No antiques here, just Chee Wees Original Cheese Curls.

That was great

The quote was from one the men in the film, and I forget who. But I it was “I don’t know if any of the films we made were great. But what was great, was trying to make them great.”

That is the great I get to keep for myself. Those anonymous moments ass achingly early writing The Trier, when I felt good enough about a line or paragraph that it could carry me through the entire following work day.

That is how I define The Trier being great. I’ll keep that definition for myself. If the book is or isn’t great by someone else’s definition of great, then that is good by me. It’s not going to change my mind.

Just like the antiques road trip, the real value was in the journey.

Great post, wasn’t it??