I used to drink 20+ cups of 3-in-1 coffee back when I was a workaholic in north Africa. From 8am to 12mn for weeks, I’d tackle mountains of work. When I crossed a border and had their strong, strong, little lattes, I drank a lot less. Maybe 2-4 cups a day there, even at night. Away from the endless supply of tasks, I’d bring a notebook with me and write until I didn’t have anything left to write. Patrons of the cafes there would watch soccer until late hours, cheering for their teams while I let the background noise and the caffeine work their magic in my head.
I may not yet have a published novel, but I am a prolific writer.
Here in the Philippines, since the pandemic has begun to subside, I enjoy a coffee or two at my favorite cafes as often as I can manage. I’ll linger for hours with a pen and a notebook, and scribble out my dreams and thoughts and plans and fiction and more. When familiar faces pass by, I greet them or they greet me and sometimes writing pauses for conversation. It is fun to see the pandemic subsiding, and I hope that time of isolation will never return.