Desperately Seeking Salem

It is a fairly well-known quandary that items at the end of the to-do list stay at the end of the to-do list.

Well, not today.

Today, I started my novel — a story that has been brewing within me for a few months now and which I have been telling  myself in the shower, when I go to bed, when I’m watching Highlander, when I’m supposed to be working on other things.

Here’s the thing: I do not see myself as a novelist. I read a lot of novels, and I review them, but I haven’t tried to write fiction for about five years. The leap from nonfiction to fiction requires something of an adjustment, and I’ve been breaking my head over how to do it.

One solution is to see it as an experiment. One best catalyzed by some major caffeine-infused coffee drinks.

Back in Iowa City, I used to frequent this place called Tarrapin, which was owned by these two humongous, sweaty brothers. They made great coffee, no one knew me there, and I could write for hours without being distracted by news.

I’ve found I do some of my best writing in coffee shops, but haven’t yet tried to write often in downtown Salem. So today marked day one of Operation Caffeine-Fueled Debut Novel. And at least today, it was a success!

I got about 600 words laid down today at the Beanery, the first Salem coffee house I ever visited. My plan is to put down about 500 words every day and just see what happens.

Get a load of that glowing screen! To me, that means some god-gifted inspiration, right? not the harrowing challenge of the blank page?

The first time I visited the Beanery it was November 2008, the rain was coming down to welcome us to Oregon, we had just driven from Portland for one of my husband’s interviews, and we were about six hours away from the next.

We ordered a 20 oz. latte and shared it while watching the passers-by duck and cover from the storm.

We congratulated ourselves for having chosen the Beanery over the two Starbucks that bookend the same street. (Good job! Way to consume! Sleep well tonight!)

We leafed through apartment guides and imagined our lives here. Then we went to see Madagascar 2 at the downtown movieplex.

Five months later, here I am, at the Beanery, writing, drinking, listening to conversations and wondering why all rooms can’t have 20+ foot ceilings.

I’m not sure if I’m set on the Beanery yet for this work-in-progress. Hopefully I can try out a handful of other coffeehouses downtown and see what fits best.

Then someday, when someone is interviewing me for a change, maybe I’ll tell the writer that I wrote the novel at the Beanery, or the Coffeehouse Cafe, or the Governor’s Cup, and the place will become a stomping ground for all levels of lit fans. Salem will rise in the hearts and minds of book-lovers as myths are created around the places where people in town create works of art.

How’s that for counting your beans before they’re roasted?