The Bitter Roast
I've been mulling over a short story for a couple of weeks now. Actually, it was since I started helping David with roasting. He gave me a key so I could help roast while he and his wife are on vacation, and I thought about how much fun it would be to roast at some ungodly hour in the morning.
And this image kept haunting me and finally began to take shape into a short story. I wrote the first paragraph a few different times but was ultimately disappointed with it. I didn't know where the story was going. "Old man roasting coffee at midnight. Wife just died. He's grieving." Not quite a full story.
Then today it hit me what else was needed. The man needed someone to witness his grieving. So I decided the story should be first person from his son's point of view, arriving on the scene after getting a call that someone was in the shop.
I started at 6:00. It's now 10:15. I've hardly moved from my chair. And I have a first draft. And it's heavy. Probably the heaviest thing I've ever written.
Aside from those starting parameters, I still didn't know where the story was going. But, as stories often tend to do, it told itself once the ball got rolling.
Tomorrow, I suppose I'll type it all in and print it off and start working on editing. All in all, though, I'd say it was a night well-spent.
-tom
sic luceat lux
And this image kept haunting me and finally began to take shape into a short story. I wrote the first paragraph a few different times but was ultimately disappointed with it. I didn't know where the story was going. "Old man roasting coffee at midnight. Wife just died. He's grieving." Not quite a full story.
Then today it hit me what else was needed. The man needed someone to witness his grieving. So I decided the story should be first person from his son's point of view, arriving on the scene after getting a call that someone was in the shop.
I started at 6:00. It's now 10:15. I've hardly moved from my chair. And I have a first draft. And it's heavy. Probably the heaviest thing I've ever written.
Aside from those starting parameters, I still didn't know where the story was going. But, as stories often tend to do, it told itself once the ball got rolling.
Tomorrow, I suppose I'll type it all in and print it off and start working on editing. All in all, though, I'd say it was a night well-spent.
-tom
sic luceat lux