An Eighth Shot of Espresso: The Coffeehouse

Writers write to be heard.  We have stories in our minds and hearts. Think of it like a dam holding back a flood of water. Ideas, voices, settings, characters, they all clamor loudly. We are the dam, and if we resist, we will break. It can be voluntary and we're the mouthpiece for them. Sometimes it is not, and they burst out anyway. Critics want to stifle that flow of words. Some attack the idea itself. It is not acceptable, not appropriate, not comfortable. Others berate the writer. That person wants attention, they want to be seen and heard. What sort of person would stand out from the crowd? Challenge conventional ways of thinking? Point out the flaws of the world around them? Indulge in worlds that may not exist in reality? Bring out emotions that are unfamiliar or unwanted?  Who would even  dare ? A creative person, of course. One who marches to a different drummer, whose path cannot be predicted or steered into a 'correct' path. One who uses their chosen medium to ...

Each story and poem I write is a little universe on their own. If that's really the case, then I'm the mother of so many alternate universes. Where do they all come from? There isn't a single answer to that and half the time I'd only shrug my shoulders. Sometimes they spring up fully formed, like Athena from Zeus's head. Other ones take time to develop, like a four-star chef's recipe in a test kitchen. The ones that stay with me, whether for a single short piece or a full blown series, all have one thing in common.  I need to find a reason to connect to it .  It can be a single, memorable character. It can be one particular setting. Maybe it's a line of dialogue, or an interaction between or among characters. Maybe it's the culture in where these people interact and live their lives. Or I feel a quality there, an invitation to know more about these people and these places.  Quantum mechanics state that there are many universes coexisting at the same time...

This writing prompt response is from the early days of  my original "The Eighth Shot of Espresso" writing blog on Wordpress. I've reposted it here in the new prose blog.  _____ From The Write Brain Workbook by Bonnie Neubauer . Prompt is in bold.) Pick one of these anagrams of "Once Upon a Time" to add in the starter to make your story a lot more interesting! Start with "Once Upon a time, long before the..." Once upon a time, long before the Nine Moo Teacup opened, the building was a wizard's home. Rows upon rows of herbs lined the front yard and gave the walkway a pleasant scent. When you climbed the stairs and stepped onto the porch, tables and chairs beckoned you to sit and relax. The double doors led into the parlor. Bookshelves lined every wall, with tomes of all shapes and sizes and colors. The wooden floors gleamed in the sunlight. The wizard's experiments merrily bubbled in their flasks over the fire. All in all, a homey atmosphere for...

This writing prompt response is from the early days of  my original "The Eighth Shot of Espresso" writing blog on Wordpress. I've reposted it here in the new prose blog.  _____ (Writing Prompt will be in bold. From "A Creative Writer's Kit" by Judy Reeves ) Someone Rearranged the Furniture There was something off about the room, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't a tangible thing, just a general feeling of unease. It made no sense; he had been in this room before. He circled the room. Bed, chest of drawers, mirror on the wall, an old-fashioned copper tub in the corner behind a privacy screen. A hand-drawn sketch of a woman, stretched out on the bed in an inviting manner. A single window leading out to a small balcony over the street. A closet the size of a breadbox. A threadbare excuse for a carpet under his feet. No room for an assassin. No hidden wires leading to traps. No crumb of food to attract bugs or invite poison. All in all,...

This writing prompt response is from the early days of  my original "The Eighth Shot of Espresso" writing blog on Wordpress. I've reposted it here in the new prose blog.  _____ From The Write Brain Workbook by Bonnie Neubauer . Prompt is in bold.) You are a groundskeeper who talks to all of your plants. You believe talking to them is better than talking to friends about your problems. One tree, a juniper named June, is your favorite. Start with: Can you believe it? She called me again last night..." "Can you believe it? She called me again last night. At three in the morning. Three ! Who the hell is up at three in the morning?! Crying into her whiskey glass and moaning about her lot in life. Another date gone wrong. I swear, she either has to get new friends or she should delete that worthless dating app off her phone. "Seems that every guy she hooks up with is a loser. They spend the entire time droning about their work, their life, them, them, them. A...

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree This writing prompt response is from the early days of  my original "The Eighth Shot of Espresso" writing blog on Wordpress. I've reposted it here in the new prose blog.  _____ Yes, he was a coward, but he wouldn't have put it that way. He always called it 'self preservation'. When he was young, his father flew into rages at the slightest thing. There was no ice in the freezer when he wanted iced tea. Bureaucracy never moved along at the speed he expected it. His father ranted and raved loudly. He and his mother ducked their heads and waited for the storm to pass. Don't rock the boat. Don't say anything to him; it would make it much worse. Don't make him turn his wrath on you. As an only child, he bore the brunt of it. As the only son, it fell to him to make his own destiny. He would never take out such selfish rage on those around him. So he put up with it in silence and fumed about it in private. Yet...

This writing prompt response is from the early days of  my original "The Eighth Shot of Espresso" writing blog on Wordpress. I've reposted it here in the new prose blog. This is done more in verse, but it tells a story. _____ Prompt from  “ 642 Things to Write About” by the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto ): The corpse you saw in the Undertaker's window She looked almost alive. Almost. The false flush of life in her sallow cheeks. Eyes closed in a timeless sleep. Dark hair set in curly waves across her shoulders and hands clasped serenely over her breast. She looked almost alive Almost. White satin and lace a black rose in the bodice. Delicate silk gloves to the elbow. Ivory stockings a garter on her thigh never thrown. She looked almost alive Almost. Long lashes against a colorless cheek. A trusting smile frozen in time. Never knowing the betrayal the lurked behind the eyes of her beloved. She looked almost alive Almost. If she could take another breath and feel lov...

 From: 400 Story Seeds to Crush Writer's Block by M. Kirin Write about a character as they look at their family sword. This character enjoys wealth and fame, though their family took those by force. What does this character think when they look at that sword, the same that cut the throats of anyone who stood against their family? Does this character regret being born into that bloodline--or have they grown too used to the feeling of blood on their hands? She went through her training routine every morning, without fail. The sword beckoned to her, called her name like the most intimate of lovers. She stood in front of the training dummy, assumed her solid stance.  Check your alignment, use your whole body. Power comes from harmony, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Ground yourself and you will not be defeated.  She imagined her foe as it crumpled under her steady onslaught. The weak should be culled; the strong should endure. That was the way it should b...

 From  400 Story Seeds to Crush Writers Block by M. Kirin Prompt: Write about a young character who needs a cane to walk and thus are gifted the cane of one of their late grandparents. What is the history of this cane? Is this the first time it's been passed down? How does this young character feel about the present?Do they find shame in such an antiquated item...or does it inspire them to go on, much like it inspired their ancestors? He turned it over in his hands. Smooth polished wood, set in a metal sheath that gleamed in the sunlight. He thought he could catch the faintest whiff of fragrance, perhaps teak or sandalwood. The curved handle was inlaid with gold with a copper pattern embedded within it.  "This was Grandpa's? I don't think I've ever seen him use it before." His grandmother nodded as she set the cup of tea before him. "This was his formal cane. He only used it for special occasions, like weddings, funerals, and outings to the theatre. You k...

 From 400 Story Seeds to Crush Writer's Block by M. Kirin (now out of print) Prompt # 221: The Notebook Write about a character who finds an abandoned notebook. What does this item look like? What exactly is written and drawn in it? What is this character's first reaction to what they find? And, above all, do the contents of the notebook touch their heart? ____ He held the notebook in his hands. A simple black cover with no identifying marks. The pages had been glued together on a single edge, but hours in the rain had dissolved the binding. Loose sheets threatened to spill from between the cardboard panels. An umbrella appeared over his head. "What do you have there, L.T.?" "Looks like an artist's sketchbook of some kind. It was lying on the bench over there. Seems like whomever it belongs just left it in the rain, Daisy." Daisy frowned as she peered at it. "If I was an artist, I'd freak out if I lost my favorite sketchbook." He nodded as...

People ask me, "Why is your poetry blog called "An Eighth Shot of Espresso?" The answer to that is, "It's a long running joke." Eight shots of espresso  is  a bit much, even for a coffee drinker like myself. According to the FDA, the maximum amount of caffeine a person can safely drink is about 400 milligrams. That's about 4 shots of espresso or 4 cups of coffee a day. So eight would definitely land you in trouble. So...why eight? I point out the byline is "Coffee and Creativity on Mom's Third Shift". When I was teaching middle school (7th grade), I drank a lot of coffee from the teacher's lounge. Not great quality, but it kept me going. That was my first shift. Motherhood became my second shift, and my writing became third shift, late at night, when everyone was asleep. Admittedly, my coffee habit was pretty bad during those days. It wasn't until much later that I cut back on it for health reason, but I haven't stopped. I usua...