Friday, February 3, 2012

On the Writer's Aid (Coffee)

If you're anything like me, the first thing on the list of morning to-dos is to set the coffee pot brewing. (If you're not as forgetful as I sometimes am, you'll have the pot pre-set to start a half hour before you get up.)

I've been a coffee drinker since well before I was putting words on paper. Having my first cup (loaded with milk and sugar) when I was about four years old.

And it escalated from there, growing exponentially when writing became a big part of my life.

Mmm. Via Stock.Xchng
I like my coffee slightly sweetened and with cream. But I'll take it anyway I can get it. Black and bitter or pale and cavity inducing.

I've met coffee I didn't like; I'm picky about flavoring and having just the right touch of sweetness.

But I've never met a cup that was undrinkable. (Well, except for that one instance where someone at a restaurant mixed up the salt and sugar dispensers and I--for the first time ever--didn't conduct a taste test before I doctored my cup. )

I've tried switching to other hot drinks. Hot Chocolate. (Too sweet, too rich.) Ciders. (Too much of a winter-time drink.) Tea. (I do love my tea. Earl Grey, hot.) I've even tried giving it up completely. (Never again. You can have my coffee when you pry it from my cold corpsy hands.)

Coffee is my comfort. The scent? The taste? I associate it with good times. With friends. With my husband. With my mother. It's like being home.

Coffee is my confidant. The first sip of a perfectly made cup--warm, silken, tantalizingly sweet--always beguiles me to close my eyes, relax and let my mind wander as it will, which sometimes means very strange and unexpected places. But I know the cup won't tell.

Coffee is my momentary retreat. Whether I'm writing a lesson or blogging for work, making edits on a short story or attempting to beat a wayward plot into submission, it provides a much needed break. Heading to the kitchen to heat up a cup or sitting back in my chair to take a sip, can grant me just enough distance from my work that I can come back to it with fresh eyes and make the necessary cuts and changes (or at least get started on them).

Coffee makes my mornings bearable. It perks me up in the afternoon. It inspires me.

Coffee is my addition. I freely admit it. Of course, out of all the addictions one could possibly have, it's a relatively healthy one. In moderation, of course, as with all things.

(Alright, even if coffee were deemed hazardous to your health, I'd probably still be drinking it.)

As it is, the benefits outweigh the risks, so I'll continue to keep my favorite mugs close at hand. Make my purchases as responsibly as possible. And reap the physical and creative boons of my long time love.


L. M. Leffew said...

I followed your link from Write on Edge (just so you know SOMEONE checks those out from time to time!) Anyway, I had to comment, because I, too, am a coffee addict (is there a support group for us? Do we NEED one?) I think this is possibly one of the most beautiful odes to coffee I've ever read :-)

L. M. Leffew said...

 There probably *is* a support group, even if it's only on the internet. I'm not, however, convinced we need one. (Granted, the people on the receiving end of coffee induced mania might disagree.)

"I think this is possibly one of the most beautiful odes to coffee I've ever read :-)"

Well, thank you. :)

I'm glad you dropped by and I hope you'll visit again.

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