Skip to main content

Why "An Eighth Shot of Espresso"?

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 usually limit myself to two or three cups a day. That might still seem like a lot, but it's a lot less that during the time when I would drive an hour to work each day, or take care of toddlers all the time.

My original blog lapsed during the COVID lockdown in 2020. When I decided to revive it, I needed a new title for my poetry and prose blogs. I contemplated my coffee cup, and knew it would probably be connected with my love for caffeine. 

Espresso started with 'e'. All right, that was a start. Then I started playing around with the rhythm and rhyme with words. A title that had a little more zing than just 'Sifa's Writing Blog' or 'My Thoughts on the World'. Then it came to me: An Eighth Shot of Espresso. It had a ring to it, was connected to coffee, and sounded unique. It also relayed the exhaustion I felt on a daily basis, being a mum and a writer, and the precarious balance in between.

So that's how the title of the blog came about. The poetry blog is called an Eighth Shot of Espresso Poetry and this prose/ramble blog is The Coffeehouse. Why two separate ones? The poetry blog came first, and while the early entries have some short snippets of prose, I wanted to separate the two. My writing style for prose is decidedly different than for poetry. The Coffeehouse is a place for discussion, storytelling and a reflection of life's adventures.

There you have it. Pull up a chair, grab a cup of coffee, and relax at Sifa's Coffeehouse. Maybe we can trade a tale or two during your stay.

Cheers,
Sifa



Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Prompt: The Heirloom Cane (Prompt from "400 Story Seeds to Crush Writers Block")

 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...
Post a Comment
Read more

Writing Prompt Repost: The Corpse in the Window

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

Writing: So Many Universes, So Little Time

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...
Post a Comment
Read more