Today's Blog is not so much about writing as it is reminiscing.
The other day I was looking at all the pretty notebooks in the store, and it immediately took me back to the days when I carried not only whatever current book I was reading, but also a notebook and pen.
Those were the good old days when you could literally smoke anywhere - yes anywhere- even the public library. Just a tidbit for the youngsters.
I would go to my favorite downtown restaurant, and sit for hours, drink coffee, smoke endless cigarettes, and write. I wrote short stories, poems, story ideas; I wrote about the people around me. I made of up little stories about their lives for character building practice
There was no better feeling than sitting in a cozy booth by the window, on a dreary day and smelling the ink as it flowed out onto the paper. The restaurant owners got to know me, and as long as I ordered coffee and the occasional meal, they never bothered me. I think I felt more like a writer during those times than I do clacking away on a keyboard.
I may just have to revisit my roots and take my notebook out for a walk now and then.
Do you have a writing history that you’d like to share?