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Sunday Afternoon at the B&N Café

Author PicAlmost every Sunday afternoon I flee my house of chaos for the Barnes & Noble Café. It’s a long drive for me, so usually I go to a local coffee shop to get a little uninterrupted writing time. However, I prefer the B&N Café because you have to pay for Internet access (at my little local coffee shop, it’s free), which means I don’t buy it and I actually write instead of procrastinate by checking my email, playing on Livejournal or Twitter or hunting down eBook pirates (my own private and pointless obsession).

The chairs are fairly comfortable, the staff is friendly (I’m in the B&N Café as I write this, in fact), and once I plug myself into my iPod, the auditory environment is conducive to writing. I like to try and get a table that backs up to a wall so no one can read over my shoulder, especially if I’m about to write a sex scene…which I intend to do right after I finish writing this post. Today I snagged a wall table, so today is a good B&N Café day.

Muted conversation fills my ears, since I don’t have my ear buds in yet. So does the gurgling sound of the café staff making coffee. The scent of that coffee fills my nose, along with the faint aroma of the woman’s perfume beside me. I can also hear the clinking of change at the register, the beeping of machinery, the sound of a child crying in another part of the store.

Today I’m wearing a comfy black sweater with black running pants and fuzzy red socks. On a totally different topic, Limecello gave me a list of possible subjects to write on and one of them was about my favorite kind of socks. You’re probably all just dying to know that I prefer slipper socks and wear them most of the time in the winter. As a full time writer, I can get away with that. Comfort is my first priority. A fashionista, I am not. socks

Back to the topic at hand, I get a lot of writing done at the cafe. I write for a while, then stop and think, staring out over the top of my laptop with my eyes unfocused. I’m not really seeing anything because I’m deep in thought, thinking about the scene I’m writing or how I need the next part of this particular chapter to show something significant about a certain character, set up for an upcoming battle or black moment, or show how the relationship between my hero and heroine is evolving. I do a lot of staring and thinking when I write.

book cover That doesn’t mean I’m not aware of my surroundings. On the contrary, I’m hyper-aware of everyone around me. I think most writers are. Writers observe. They take in all people and events around them and consider them. For a writer everything and everyone around them is potential inspiration or story fodder.
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Today there’s a woman next to me who is dressed in a stylish fawn colored sweater dress and expensive looking thigh-high boots (her perfume smells expensive too). She’s reading a stack of books on divorce. I can’t help but wonder about her, who she married and why they’re divorcing. I can’t help but make up stories to fill in the gaps about what I don’t know about her.
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What about that man in his mid twenties in the corner who is pounding away on his laptop like me? Writer? Or grad student?

And there’s clutch of women in the corner that’s obviously a book club since they all have the same mass market paperback on the table beside them-with the title I can’t quite make out – and who are clearly having a wonderful time and not talking about books.

The man at two o’clock is flipping through a book by Mike Huckabee and has Sean Hannity sitting jowl-to-jowl with Michael Savage (books by those men, I mean, not the actual men). He keeps furtively checking out the well-heeled women who is reading the books on divorce.

The chess players are here again. They’re here every single week-the same people scowling down at the boards, scratching their heads and trying to figure out their next move. Another group of women are in the corner. It’s a study group for library science, unless I miss my guess. I can tell their relationship is tentative and new (probably the first time they’ve studied together) because of the nervous chatter and the self-conscious laughter. It’s the kind of communication one engages in when one is not totally sure.
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It strikes me every week how many people come here to do things other than drink coffee and consider their purchases. People come to study, write novels or dissertations. They use it as a library, pulling books up next to themselves along with a pad of paper and pen to take notes. The woman on my other side is angry that so many people are making noise (the noise culprits are the library science group and the two tables in front of us who have struck up a conversation about football) and is hissing into her cell phone about how people should be quieter here. of one’s audience.
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Except, of course, this isn’t a library…it’s a bookstore. Me? I just put my ear buds in and turn to my sex scene….

*P.S.-  Anya, because she is awesome, has very kindly offered to give away an autographed copy of her recent release Witch Heart to one lucky commenter. Not that you wouldn’t have stopped by to chat with her anyway, right? 😉