The Magic of Writing in Coffee Shops
As a relatively new freelance ‘work from homer’, I am very fortunate to have a dedicated space in my garden where I work. A blue cabin with a small deck with just enough room for a bistro style table and 2 chairs where I sit in the summer. From my desk in my cabin, I look out onto our small garden. Even in London I watch the wildlife; inquisitive red breasted robins, bold grey squirrels and skittish blue tits, dart back and forth. Occasionally I see a woodpecker. Just a few paces across our damp lawn and I am in my kitchen making a coffee or perusing my stuffed bookshelves. It is a lovely place to work.
Yet, even the most cosseting and comfortable environments can on occasion become stifling to creativity. When this happens as I know it will at various points in the week, it’s the café’s and coffee shops I seek out. When the words won’t come and ideas get stuck, it is then I pick up my tote bag, stuff it with my laptop, my notebook and pens and wander along the road to my favourite coffee shop.
Until a year ago I had never worked from home, or on my own. I had always been part of a team, always with colleagues and other people around me. Now I spend large parts of many of my working days alone. I have discovered this suits me rather well. I have always been perfectly happy in my own company. Nevertheless, sometimes I need to feel connected with others, I need the reassuring presence of strangers. I need coffee shops.
Sometimes, I arrive, and it is full and buzzing with parents and pushchairs. Other work from homers sit with laptops, or retired people meet for mid-morning coffee and conversation. Sometimes I might be the only customer. When this happens I deliberate over where to sit. Where I choose will depend on my mood. Sometimes I need a soft chair and the warmth of the radiator. At other times, I want to sit at the bench by the window. From here I can see the tube station and watch the toing and froing of my neighbours. On warmer days sitting at one of the pavement side tables feels exotically European.
I am always welcome here. The atmosphere is calm and friendly, the background music changes. On some days it is gentle and melodic, on others more lively. I come here regularly, the baristas know I will order an uncomplicated latte. They also know I can be easily tempted by toasted banana bread or a cinnamon swirl. On occasion, I enjoy chatting with other customers, revelling in the shared experience of being in a coffee shop on a working day in the middle of the week. I enjoy those brief exchanges. Sometimes we chat about what we are reading, sometimes we congratulate each other on our choice of pastry. On other days, I choose to be more solitary as I contemplate the words I want to write. This café and the delicious coffee are my sustenance and my inspiration.
There is an energy which comes from being in a café. It is more than just a change of scenery although that is important too. The gentle hum, the snatches of overheard chatter, and the laughter. All of this, a small and temporary window into other people’s worlds, and a reassurance that I am not alone. Occasionally I find myself straining to listen to a conversation, but mostly I am content with simply a vague awareness and my concentration is on writing the words.
On my best days, I find myself scribbling furiously as ideas tumble one after another from my head. Ideas which have only recently formed become larger and I struggle to capture them before they disappear again. There are days when I begin working on a piece which has been eluding me. In the coffee shop, my focus is sharpened, ideas flow, and rather than being distracted, my attention is diverted back to my writing.
When all this alchemy miraculously happens , I have a sense of accomplishment, a renewed vigour for my work and a longing to get back to my desk. If I analysed this more deeply, perhaps I would conclude that by working visibly in this way, I am seeking approval or recognition, an acknowledgement that I am not frittering my days away in my cabin in the garden, an assurance I am doing real work
When it is time to leave, I say goodbye, I shut my laptop and gather the tools of my trade, my notebook and pen. For now, I am simply content to accept the magic of the coffee shop has done its work.
Angela Vincent is a London based Nurse, Writer and Trainer, with an interest in health and wellbeing. Living well in the City.
www.changing-pages.com
