Coffee Novelist

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

Calling out coffee drinks “Tall cocoa!” It was my shift. My morning at the controls of the elevated four group La Marzocco espresso machine. It was an espresso bar as theatre stage, a relic from the days before Starbucks customized and cranked out location after location. It took two steps up from behind the bar …

Continue reading

Howard Shultz and I were partners once. The Starbucks Coffee Company in my historical fiction novel Tripio was, in real life, far and away the best workplace I have experience, before or since. There have been a lot more workplaces since I hung up my apron than I care to admit. My point is, it …

Continue reading

Don’t waste your time writing trash Don’t waste your time writing that trash you write. Hey, I should know. I’ve written more than my share. It took four seconds to find an example from on old file. See below:        Mid-step brooding was halted for an instant though as Altonstreet realized that Philpatrick would have …

Continue reading

Books for the Starbucks fan on your list A while back I read How Starbucks Saved my Life by Michael Gates Gill. In the interest of full disclosure, I read it out of curiosity, as opposed to organic intellectual interest. In other words, I read it to see how that memoir compared to my historical …

Continue reading

The story of a coffee house  Tripio opens with a prologue, which was the suggestion of my editor. He felt the book needed something to grab the reader right away. My immediate reactionary, immature and arrogant thought was that Tripio is great and that its greatness demands patience! Those thoughts did not travel from my …

Continue reading

         “Who would read a novel Starbucks novel?” I asked the facilitator of my “Author Development” class. Her answer would be important to me. After all, I had just written one. She looked my way and made eye contact for a moment. She then looked out above my head towards the wall behind me …

Continue reading