PIG Writing

Today is a step towards writer status—a day I pack up the laptop, emit pollution through my exhaust, and nestle in at an end booth at the Presque Isle Gallery Coffeehouse. With medium coffee-of-the-day in dangerously close proximity to my keyboard, a chocolate muffin, and the company of only two other patrons (1 mother, 1 screaming child), I begin my writing session as so often seen in the movies.

As I binge food and purge thoughts, I am reminded of all the fit people I passed biking or running down this way. To justify my very stationary activity, I squint out the window at whirling white fluffies, allergens just waiting to attack my sinuses, and nod a nod of certitude.

The child is quacking now, in between folky beats, and my muffin is half gone. I assume real writers who do this kind of thing aren’t actually recording their experience in the coffee house. But, it seems fitting on my first day. Or maybe this is actually just a manifestation of writer’s block—dissecting and recording material details in a flowery fashion.


I am down to the bottom of my mug and have to force-swallow tepid swigs. A lightbulb just went off, not literally, but figuratively. (Yay, we’re getting somewhere!) Those candlewarmers that we college students have to use in dorms because of fire safety should be installed/embedded in coffeehouse tabletops. Heated coasters to keep your coffee warm if you are a sipper like me! Someday, when I own my dream coffee/sweets shop, you will see and use these. And each gulp will be evenly satisfying.

I just blew a piece of chocolate muffin into the cracks between my keys, in attempts to blow it off my silvery wrist shelf. The music has turned to smooth, classic, jazzy. This is where I’ll be writing on Saturday mornings. I decided on PIG Coffeehouse (charming, eh?) before the summer started, and I am eager to move beyond fieldsite description in the following weeks.

Stay tuned!