The Creative Process

When the ski season came to a close, I eagerly awaited great stretches of time after work to do such things as sit at my desk and stare at the wall. To justify a sense of activity, I listened to music while I did this. Sometimes I napped too.

But after a week of recuperating from a somewhat long ski season, I think it's about time to get writing again. So last night I put on a hoodie, my well worn cap, took my green satchel, and scooted down to the local coffee shop in my little Civic. I hoped my bohemian disguise would suffice, and the local green party voters would accept me as one of their own.

Goodbye Blue Monday is the name of the briocherie on Division Street that I decided on. It's nestled, as they say, between a hot dog shop and vacant unit, purportedly planned to be another pizza shop (that'll make 6 in out small college town). The walls are pin-up boards for local art and funky designs, and the furniture is comfortable and relaxed. There were several Carleton College hippies littering the path to the couch I wanted, and I hoped I didn't pass through their fragrant haze of not-showering. Soap just fuels the machine, man!

I managed to avoid the eau d'naturale and sank down into a couch section, taking out my papers and notepad. Ok, now it's time to get some solid work done on the plotline. Here's how my mind works when I try to concentrate.

Ok, so plotline, think...why would they need to keep the prisoner alive? Damn, this is a comfy couch. Why wouldn't they just kill him? What's their motivation? Look at those two in the corner, acting all cuddly. Gross. Oh man, I wonder if my cell phone bill went through this month? I should check that. What's that smell? Is that hazelnut? Uh oh, I just farted. I hope it just sinks into the couch. That girl next to me will smell it for sure. She won't say anything though, she'll just keep on working, but I know, I know she'll smell. Judging, wondering why boys are so gross. Ok, so if I sit perfectly still, maybe it won't disturb the cushions, and the smell won't leave! Haha, the perfect plan.

Here's where I realize that in my state of mental hibernation, I have been blankly fixated on a random girl across the room, who now is looking at me like I have committed a sexual crime. I don't worry about it too much though, because either she just got back from soiree on Mt. Kilimanjaro, or the combination of hiking boots, long dress, and a Sherpa backpack mean she swings more towards Eve than Adam. I just hope that she isn't militant, or I might get those size nine Merrells between my legs. I better get back to writing.