The writing life is full of small setbacks. I am typing this post from a coffee shop on the Lothian Road, Edinburgh. But not my usual coffee shop on the Lothian Road, Edinburgh. As I am, in many ways, a creature of habit, this counts as a minor catastrophe.
As I do not have the luxury of writing full time (why did autofill suggest “full sentences?” Does it think I’m illiterate?”), I am in the habit of wandering down to my local coffee shop around seven a.m. and writing for an hour or two before heading off to the day job. Today, however, when I reached my destination, I was horrified to discover that the shop had moved to “temporary” hours commencing at . . . eight.
Like I said, a catastrophe. I ended up trogging along to another more crowded, less laptop friendly location and setting up shop there. But time has been lost! Productivity has dropped! Targets (albeit self-imposed) will be missed! It’s quite unsettling for a delicate artistic type like yours truly. Or an old, overly rigid curmudgeon. Take your pick.
Of course, depending on your perspective, not all waits are a bad thing. I was talking to my good friend, Shelly G., the other day, and she was telling me that she had recommended Braking Day to one of her colleagues. A day or two later, he announced that it would be a little while before he could read it as it was signed out at his local library and there was, wait for it . . .
A waiting list.
Who’d a thunk it?
While a wait is obviously not ideal for my friend’s colleague, I find it immensely flattering that anyone would be motivated enough to get on a waiting list for one of my books. I am keeping my fingers crossed that, after they’ve read it, they still feel it was worth the wait.