It occurred to me recently that I have writing blockages on occasion frequently okay, fine, all of the time because I tend to stay cooped up in my apartment. This, in turn, leads to me staring blankly at the seemingly impenetrable pile of papers on my desk or the never quite folded pile of laundry on my chair or the teetering pile of unread books on my shelf or at a disheveled Lillydog and thinking: “Errr, ummm, wellll maybe I should just tackle that first before I do anything else? Yes, yes, that’s most definitely what I should be doing right this instant! I must get on that!”
And then I check my facebook page instead and all of a sudden it’s 5pm and I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing but a bit of acquaintance and ex-fling profile page stalking, which, while great fun indeed, technically doesn’t pay any bills. Yet.
So when I told a friend that I was having serious issues finishing (oh, fuck, let’s be honest: starting) several columns I’d promised a certain editor - columns that are, frankly, crucial to my career, and columns which I theoretically really want to write … he said, “Well, which cafe do you write at?” To which I replied, “Uh … Cafe … Julia Allison?”
It was then agreed upon that I should forthwith find such a cafe, because clearly that was the only thing standing in between me and LITERARY GREATNESS.
Well, that and actually being able to write. (Details, details!)
So, I beseech you: tell me if you know of such a mythical place! Requirements: Must not contain the following letters, in the following order: S.T.A.R.B.U.C.K.S.
That is all.
