Stir, stir, stir - Ow!

He turned the tap on and let the water run through his burnt fingers, caused by the coffee splashing as he was stirring it. He was typing out a story when he realised that his cup of coffee was empty. So he went downstairs to brew another one. ‘Definition of a writer,’ he mused, ‘an odd organism that runs on caffeine and are capable of turning caffeine into books and stories.’ Screw the fact that he was merely a student; a few cups of coffee keeps the writer awake.

“You have got to stop your coffee addiction, Ross,” his mum once said to him. “You’re becoming like your father. He drinks at least five cups of coffee a day.”

He can’t though. Coffee keeps him awake when he needs to be awake. Coffee helps the words come out like a waterfall jetting down a cliff. Coffee helps him meet his own personal deadline (exactly three months from the moment he starts writing the story).

Step one to become a writer: bring a pen or pencil and a notebook wherever you go. Step two: own a laptop or computer or anything that could be used to type down your story. Step three - Ow! He had just burnt his fingers again from touching the hot cup. Step three: drink coffee or some other caffeinated drink everyday to keep your awake. Step 4: expect some people to think that you’re some sort of romantic poet who will charm girls and/or guys with your words. Step 5: expect some people to think that you live, or going to live, in some dingy old place and be this deranged, antisocial oddball who rarely ever goes out. Step 6: expect other people to think that you’re going to be at least millionaire. What a mess of a life we writers live.

His friends always complained about his always too busy writing and not spending time hanging out with them. Occasionally, they’ll read his drafts and most of them will say it’s good with one or two saying that it’s ‘too cliché’ (as if it’s his fault that those are the things people do nearly everyday) or some other comment that makes no sense to him at all. He learned to shut them up by saying, “Why don’t you write your own book if you think you can do a way better job?” It’s not his fault that starting a book with, ‘She was annoyed with the sound of Carly’s babbling,’ makes a reader bored as hell. People won’t even read the whole thing with a first sentence like that.

His family complained about him drinking too much coffee every single day. Except his dad. Not that his dad can without being a hypocrite anyway, seeing how he himself drinks at least 5 cups a day. But Ross didn’t mind. He’s fine just as long as he could finish his stories before or on the deadline he gives himself. Writing is hard for a writer after all.

It’s odd to think that writing and coffee go together so perfectly but considering the fact that writers have their own deadline to meet, he’s not surprised. Besides, most of the fictional writers on TV, books and movies goes to some sort of high class café, ask for some sort of expensive and high class coffee, and write there. They also just happened to be the romantic sort of people. Ross knows he’s far from romantic. His hand doesn’t hold a girl’s hand or heart; it holds a pencil or pen. And he’s proud of it.

He writes at home and gives himself coffee. No need to go to an expensive café when he could buy the beans for less than 20 bucks that could last for about a month or two (if he’s lucky), boil his own water at home and brew the coffee the way he likes it for a cheaper price. Who needs class when all you need to do is write? He’ll go broke if he goes to a café everyday. His family isn’t rich and he’s perfectly aware of it. Then again, even if his family is rich, he still wouldn’t go to the café just to write and drink coffee. There are too many distractions there.

Finally, he thought as he gripped the mug. The coffee had cooled down slightly throughout the time he was musing about coffee and writing. He brought the warm mug upstairs to his room. Coffee is a writer’s best friend after all. Well, at least, it’s one of them.
‘That’s enough musings tonight,’ he thought shaking his head a little as he walked up the stairs.

Besides, it was time for him to go back into the world of coffee and words.