Renting Table Time

Let us give thanks for coffeeshops, tea houses, and open spaces that have wi-fi, characters, and someone else to keep the place clean. There may be a few caveats, however.

Writers can write anywhere. Right? Yes. No. Sort of.

Where are you going to write?

Costs?

• In your house? Not cheap, but already paid for, right?
• Build a refuge and a retreat? Buildings aren’t cheap, even small ones.
• Rent an office to work in? Hundreds or thousands of dollars a month. 
• Work from a shared office or coworks? Hundreds for sure.
• Hang out in a coffeeshop? Hmm. Maybe, if they have wi-fi. Five bucks a visit.
• Let’s hear it for libraries! Free! 

Details

• Home: Quiet, maybe. Isolating, except for kids and nagging chores. Convenient.
• Your own on-site retreat: Quieter. Even more isolated, though it may come with pets. Cats seem to get everywhere. Isolated from chores, too.
• A rented office: Fancy. Folks might think you’re a professional. Isolated, but not convenient. That can be good or bad. 
• Shared spaces: People, serious people, or at least people with a purpose. Also a good place for networking. Whether they are noisy depends on the space. Ah, but are their hours the same as yours?
• Coffeeshops: Speaking of hours. Probably tiny tables. Espresso machines are noisy. People make noises too, but they also self-deliver characters and scenes. Pastries and caffeine! 
• Libraries: There are those hour restrictions again, but hey, free is good. The wi-fi may be fine. Fewer liquids but a new crop of characters. People who remember being shushed by a librarian may miss quieter years.

Enough of lists and logic. If you’re going to write, write. People have probably written epics on hides using charcoal. Most of us welcome at least some civilization. Laptops are much more convenient than unprocessed vellum. A lap, a tiny table, an antique roll-top desk, a room with walls dedicated to post-it notes and yarn-connected 3×5 cards. It can all work. Write.

But why write about where to write?

I’ve buried the lede. My apologies to editors and readers, but I started pondering my writing situations because of ergonomics and a repeat of history. 

During the 2000 pandemic (there will be others), I locked down so hard that I finished three books in one year: Firewatcher, Kettle Pot Cup, and Twelve Months at Possession Beach. I also locked up my knees, particularly my right one. For a year, I worked at home, feet up, laptop straddling them, fingers hitting the keyboard. Years later, my right knee has yet to forgive me. We’re in negotiations for returning to normal operations. I ran into the normal list of writer’s physical ailments: strained eyes, sore neck, bad back, carpal tunnel, yuck, and yech.

Soon enough, I returned to the irregular tour of a comfy but unhealthy chair at home, a tiny table in a coffeeshop, occasional visits to local libraries, and to a variety of coworks that I liked but whose various business models didn’t work.

Oh yeah, with more stretching, regular breaks, and more relaxed-pandemic protocols (which is arguably risky, but so is seclusion.)

And history is repeating itself, or at least echoing. 

I am working on a non-fiction book (Muddling By – working title), the sequel to my sci-fi books (title defined but being kept quiet), the first year of a new multi-year photo essay (Twelve Months on Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park), a screenplay (the true life tall-ship saga that lingers while I ponder what to do next), and my various blogs.

It’s enough to make me ponder a more professional space with quiet, tools, good internet access, and an idyllic and romanticized notion of what is ‘best’. 

Or, how about what I’ve ended up with: time at home, and time at a variety of coffee/tea/wine businesses? Yep. 

Home is most efficient because it is convenient, cheap, has good wi-fi, though with sub-optimal ergonomics. But the tea is very good. If I’m working late, I can drink the wine or whiskey without having to drive. And naps are usually uninterrupted. (Eventually, I’ll write a post about playing with spammers.)

But humans are social creatures. I can monk away in my tiny house (MyTinyExperiment.com), but I’m finding it healthier to spend about half my writing time in a combination of a coffeeshop (that closes too early), a place with good tea (that’s open too little), and a wine bar (that would probably appreciate it if I ordered wine instead of yet another pot of tea.

In all of those cases, I keep in mind that, as a regular customer, I should also be mindful of their business. I drink tea. (Kettle Pot Cup) Tea is cheaper than coffee. Tea is cheaper than wine. It happens that each has good teas, but if all I wanted was a cup of tea, I’d stay home where I have a personal selection, can steep it the way I want to steep it, and can use my favorite mug. I’m effectively renting a table from them for an hour or two for the price of dead leaves soaked in hot water delivered in a paper cup or a branded mug.

I’ll spare you the math, but if I did that every day, it would be cheaper to join a coworks. I write about personal finance and frugality. Why don’t I do that?

People. There are people in a coworks, but they are a serious subset of the population. I realized that my writing benefits from me hearing a random collection of people casually talking in the busted language we humans use when we’re not being formal. People in public are delivering story, or at least ones I can imagine. Even without considering quotes, I see and hear perspectives that aren’t mine. I’m not writing for only me, though it can feel that way. I want to write in a language that they expect to understand. Tragedy, comedy, compassion, ignorance, intelligence, news, gossip, – listen long enough and hear it all.

Hearing too much of it is also why I return home for the rest of my writing. 

My tiny house’s ergonomics make me appreciate the want for a dedicated and properly supplied space. I know of a few writers with such spaces, and I’m glad they have them. Maybe someday I’ll design and own such an extra space, and I’ll count on them for advice.

In the meantime, I write where I can, but I also try to remember to mind their business. At least bus your own table and remember that it is more than tacky to BYOB or brown-bag it.