The Write Places

Along the Sussex Coast rail line I spot stations with independent cafes that sell homemade cakes and second-hand books. Both these things entice but alas, I am not stopping. My train passes through but next time I alight at Angmering or Barnham I vow that I will visit and enjoy the Formica, plastic tablecloths and rock cake. They look like good places to collect characters. Possibly not good places to write in though. I always benefit from a bit of anonymity.



Train: brilliant
Small friendly café: self-conscious. 

My brother has a coffee shop near him that has the perfect writing environment. They give you real mugs and it has an upstairs away from the clatter of the coffee making machines but still capturing enough ambient noise. It is busy enough to be completely inconspicuous. The best table is by a big window where you can look out and get inspiration from people passing by.

It’s interesting how what surrounds us inspires and infiltrates our writing. I am often teased for setting my stories in cafes and pubs and trains. There are also occasionally elements of wish fulfilment. Some time ago I was unhappy in my work and I wrote a string of stories about people with wonderful jobs; among them a travelling busker, a cosmic dentist and a tattooist’s apprentice, who just happened to be mousy and middle-aged.

It’s not quite alchemy, writing is more like cookery. I’ll slice up that station café, throw in an overheard conversation, sprinkle with magical realism and add a whisper of my own exposed soul. Yes, we’re chefs or maybe chemists. And there are a couple more metaphoric careers I can play with in my next story.