Tag: coffee

Waiting

Summer is a fine time for waiting

I always feel like summer is the time for waiting. Ordinary time in the church calendar, the hot days fading into each other under the relentless sun, the school year in the distance and nothing at the moment needing done. Time to relax and wait.

If only I was better at waiting

I an very poor at waiting.

This is the current season of my life, where I am waiting for many things — my beta readers to get back to me, answers to queries and submissions. I’m waiting for some feedback. Where to go from here. How to go forward. I want to go forward, not just sit here and wait. What am I called to do? Nothing, at the moment, and I hate it.

Waiting in this moment

At this moment, I am waiting in the Westport Coffee House in Kansas City. I am supposed to be writing, and I am writing this but getting very agitated with the notion of waiting.

I need to find a way to be comfortable with waiting.

Coffee as a Family Ritual

The formative coffee experiences

Photo by Justus Menke on Pexels.com

I dated a guy (to the point that we later got divorced) whose family had a Sunday ritual of strong Gevalia coffee in white Scandinavian porcelain ware, classical music, and the New York Times.

Another boyfriend’s family ritual involved percolator coffee in the cluttered kitchen as the cats drank out of the sink, and his stepfather and I discussed socialism.

My own family would drink coffee out of mismatched mugs in the kitchen on Mom’s good days, and the cats would wander around the table and occasionally stretch up on Dad’s legs. We would plan dinner, which often consisted of tearing apart a recipe and reassembling it again.

Coffee has always been a ritual

Throughout time and place, coffee has been featured in ritual. The Ethiopian coffee ceremony, which involves roasting and grinding the beans at the table; the coffee breaks in an office offering time to talk with colleagues; weekly coffee dates. After-dinner coffee, sometimes spiked with liqueurs. Turkish coffeehouses and coffeehouses in Paris.

There’s something special about the coffee bean that lends itself to special moments. (I know the same could be said for tea in the British world, but I’ve only had a proper British tea once.) We in the US have very few rituals, but the ones we do have are ingrained and almost impossible to separate from everyday life.

Our Sunday ritual

Right now I sit in the living room typing this with a cup of coffee listening to classical music. The cats are somewhere — they don’t like classical as much as we do. The music du jour is one of Bach’s kids. We have a faux fireplace, which is on for ambience even though it’s summer (don’t ask; it’s a husband thing).

Soon I’ll be working on writing and Richard will be working on a project for the public library; but for now, we have our ritual.

For you, the reader

Do you have any Sunday rituals? Coffee rituals? Let me know in the comments below!

Looking for the World of Dreams

Lately my life has been too many words.

I work with words all day, and especially here in the summer, when I don’t have much else to do. I have been working on several projects, putting the words into place and polishing them up. Short stories, novels, cover letters — all have been revised. But I am weary of words; they’re not inspired at this stage.

Words and Dreams

Inspired words have to come from somewhere. In my case, they come from dreams and daydreams. The realm that is illogical. I dip into that realm, find the inspiration, and use that thought and the energy to influence building out the dream into something readable. This is why I write fantasy instead of, say, historical fiction.

I haven’t had any of that kind of inspiration lately, and it shows. All I have been doing is revising, the brain work. No aha reactions, no warm feeling of having a scenario in my head (in my case it’s in words, not pictures, because of my aphantasia.)

A wake-me-up

A fellow writer in a writer’s group has assigned me to people watching at the cafe, listening to some good music (in my case, either ambient or singer-songwriter compilations). I think I should take notes away from the computer, preferably with my brass Kaweko Sport fountain pen. And I shouldn’t think about what I should write, but see where the inspiration hits me. Hopefully short stories and poems, because with 7 novels and one to be revised and added to, I probably have more than enough novels to consider publishing.

So that’s my plan for this afternoon.

This Morning

Gloomy morning

I type this as I look out the window right by my writing area, a corner of the living room. The sky is pretty dark and teases rain. The rain, however, shifts to the south of us, barely sprinkling us.

I want a gullywasher, the sort of rain that, if you’re caught in it, you just give up and stand in it, getting drenched to your skin. The sort that sheets as it hits the pavement, that drums on the roof.

Photo by Chevanon Photography on Pexels.com

I think I’ve written about this before. I am obsessed with rain.

Coffee and love

The coffee has arrived. My husband makes it every morning, because his love language is acts of service. I thank him because my love language is verbal affirmation. Then I spank his butt because another of his love languages is physical affection.

Is coffee itself a love language?

With miles to go

My latest project is laying out the pieces to publish a newsletter. The reason for this is that I’m working on developing a more robust marketing platform for my books. The reason is twofold: it provides reassurance to an agent who’s considering my work, and it provides me a platform for what I self-publish (currently just the Kringle Chronicles books). It was — and continues to be — much work on sometimes buggy platforms.

The whole concept of marketing has taken on a life on its own; I now see a third reason to do it — to connect. I think that online contacts are real connection, although the character is more like seeing people in the café and saying hi than being intimately connected to someone. Social media is more like light flirting, although platonic.

What about you?

What are you doing today? Let me know in the comments.

Daily Warmup

Every morning (well, almost every morning) I sit in front of my computer staring at the WordPress site and its little white button that says “Write”. And I write.

In a way, this blog is the warmup exercise for everything else I do in a day, whether it be writing or work. This blog loosens my fingers up and loosens my mind up. There is a full day ahead of me to make of it what I will.

Photo by Olga Mironova on Pexels.com

Sometimes that is merely existing, moving myself toward the door with my computer case for a day of work. Sometimes it’s gleefully playing with my cats. Sometimes it’s a productive day at home writing or at work teaching.

But the blogging in the morning is essential, framing my inspirations for the day.

Today’s tasks are monitoring and answering email from students and prepping for Camp NaNo. I have already answered five at 6:20 AM. (This is rare because my students generally abhor mornings.)

It feels like a good day, although one that would benefit from coffee. (Lots of coffee).

Home Roasting Coffee

My husband and I love our coffee, to the point that we actually roast our own. It takes an outlay of equipment and expertise, but for people who like good coffee, it’s cheaper than store-bought gourmet beans and a lot cheaper than a daily Starbucks or Nespresso.

We started with the gateway drug — whole beans and a grinder — and then I found out that one could roast their own beans with an air popper. It’s true; one can roast a pot’s worth of green coffee beans with an air-fired popcorn popper, although there are a couple specs on the air popper that need to be noted. Because it’s tedious to lift the hot lid of an air popper and stick a spoon down the chamber to fish out a bean to see if the beans are done, I bought a simple cylindrical roaster (which isn’t made any more; it was a cheaper version of this). It still only did one batch at a time, but it was a little more convenient.

Both the air popper and the Fresh Roast are what are known as fluid bed roasters. This means that the beans float on a fluid bed (usually air) to allow them to roast easily and not develop hot spots. Fluid bed roasters for the home user usually roast smaller batches (taking a half pound of beans at most) and don’t have much versatility if one wants to experiment with the depth of the roast (light, medium, or dark roast).

Photo by Chevanon Photography on Pexels.com

Eventually, as we drink home-roasted coffee daily, we invested in a Behmor 1600 (as they were phasing in the 2000s, it was half the price of the new model) and we roast a pound of green coffee beans a week. The Behmor will roast 1/2 lb-2 lb coffee at a time and uses a drum to move the beans for even roasting. Richard is our roaster now, because one of the important ways to determine roast strength is listening for the cracking of the coffee bean, and my hearing doesn’t allow for that anymore.

Where does one get unroasted beans? We use a source called Sweet Maria’s Coffee, a mail-order outfit with a great variety of beans ever changing with growing seasons in its various sources. We tend toward adventurousness in our beans, reading flavor notes in the reviews and choosing by those. Then when we’re drinking our morning cup, we rate the coffees on a four-point scale:

  1. I wouldn’t give Grandma this coffee
  2. Grandma drinks this coffee
  3. Grandma should be drinking this coffee
  4. Grandma called: she wants a dime bag to go with this coffee.

We like coffee in the 3-4 range (I’m old enough to be a grandma).

Even with the outlay of the roaster (again, we got it on deep discount because we shopped for sales), we pay a lot less than Starbucks, somewhat less than we would for gourmet beans at the store, and a little less than generic canned coffee, and we get a premium product that’s almost like wine in its complexity.

It’s worth the learning curve.

Another Sunday Morning and a Little Romance

It’s another Sunday morning, and it’s dark and snowy outside. And cold, let’s not forget cold (1° F, feels like -14°). I didn’t want to get out of bed, but the thought of breakfast — French toast and turkey bacon — made me consider sentience.

So now I’m downstairs in a living room bundled up and drinking coffee and learning new tricks in WordPress (see that impressive drop cap?) while listening to the best of the Baroque.

Today I will write. More like edit the problem child of my years of writing, Gaia’s Hands. I have rewritten and revised this story so many times and have not been happy with it. This is another revision, as a fantasy romance, which I have been told it is.

I wonder how many of you have tuned out because I said the word “romance”?

Romance is the most denigrated genre of books, yet there are romance elements in so many genres. And yes, there are familiar tropes in romance — enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, reverse harem (woo!) — but there are in science fiction as well (cryosleep, generation ships, space pirates, and even interspecies romance!) I’ll admit a lot of romance is like eating popcorn — yummy, addictive snack food — but snack food sells because people eat it.

So, it’s Sunday morning and I’m going to edit a romance novel (and add more to it) today. And stay inside, definitely stay inside.

Sunday morning with coffee, cats, and blogging

 I write this blog every day with coffee. I sit on the loveseat in my living room, surrounded by cats, sipping on my coffee (cream, no sugar) and typing. 

Today, on a Sunday, I move more leisurely because I don’t have to go to work. I get started writing a bit later, and I have more time to enjoy my coffee. The coffee, homeroasted, is a Costa Rica Helsar Macho Arce with orange and walnut notes. 

This is the coffee we’re drinking.


Right now, Girlie-Girl (a grumpy calico aged 15) sits to my right, next to the trackball. Chloe (the fiesty little tortoiseshell, plays at my feet. Me-Me (the needy dilute grey and white), jumps on and off the back of the couch. She’ll be back soon.) Chucky (the huge orange cat) minds his own business.

I don’t plan what I write; rather I search my mind and my soul on what I want to say. If I had to plan every day, I would not be writing every day. It would cease to be fun and relaxing. I have enough things in my life that aren’t fun and relaxing.

My husband updates me on the upcoming weather; it looks like we’re getting 8-12 inches of snow Monday and Tuesday. I work from home Monday; the storm may mean I work at home on Tuesday as well. Regardless, I will have my morning ritual of coffee and cats.

And here’s a picture of Girlie helping me write the blog.






I found my muse!

I’m looking for a muse.

I’m thinking of “muse” in the more abstract sense, because real-life muses seem to take too much energy. 

I need to feel inspired, which is something that’s hard to find when more or less filling in the areas between plot, which is what I’m doing with Gaia’s Hands. I don’t feel the sense of flow that I do when writing a novel. I’m not getting the sense of delight over my characters or scenes. 

I’m frustrated. I may actually go through an old manuscript I haven’t developed much and edit the holy hell out of it, except it needs to be turned into a romance itself. (It’s actually well on its way.) The name of it is Reclaiming the Balance, and the male protagonist is non-binary in the most literal way. I haven’t touched that again because it makes me uneasy, and I have to search my soul and question myself. 

Ahh… I’ve had half a cup of coffee and I’m suddenly feeling inspired to write. For the moment. Maybe breakfast coffee is my muse!