A Soft Place to Write
Chella Courington -- July 15, 2005
Emailed from Pazzoria Bakery and Cafe, Portland, Oregon. I often write in coffeehouses. The charm is that I can. If I were writing in the eighteenth-century, I'd be banned...
... from such manly places where writers like Samuel Johnson argued politics and set the tone of literary discussion. Whereas he supported women writers Fanny Burney and Elizabeth Carter, among others, and helped them secure publishers, Johnson scorned their patronizing coffeehouses. Today, however, coffeehouses enjoy free and easy passage among the sexes-a liberty for which I perpetually give thanks.
But despite my gratitude, I am a picky patron when it comes to finding a genial place for my laptop and me to settle. I long for intimacy in public. First, I consider the seating. Contrary to searching for a flat place to write, I seek overstuffed chairs where I can sprawl and balance my iBook on my lap. I cultivate the illusion of sitting alone with my computer even when other java drinkers are near. A big squashy chair creates the space enabling me to disappear into the screen.
Second, I try to buffer myself in white noise whether humming chatter or instrumental music. I shun distinct conversations or lively lyrics. Being a poet, I have no desire to be serenaded by a singer-songwriter whose words are masked by music. Even worse was the time I walked into a coffeehouse with a television blaring. No decent java joint should have one. Might as well have a dancing bear.
While I also think about the quality of the beverage served in an ideal coffeehouse, I am more concerned about the quality of the restroom. I want a clean, well-lit place: a sanitized room where the floor is not strewn with toilet paper. Not the kind of paper trail befitting a respected writer. Given the amount of liquid consumed in a writing spree, this requirement for sanitation is a must.
Another feature to keep in mind is the lighting. I detest florescent lights but fly over the keys in a soft glow from a low wattage bulb or a window. Like seating, lighting is a matter of taste. The coffeehouse that offers a variety of options will attract a range of writers.
As I start this peregrination (an eighteenth-century word meaning journey) through coffeehouses on the West Coast, I plan to travel in the company of another java aficionado-a fiction writer by the name of Ted Chiles who writes forty words a minute on one cup. Seeking the coffeehouse that can be all things to all writers, we encourage the gentle reader to join us and offer advice along the way.