Cafes - Have You Heard of Them?
A love letter to coffee shops, distractions, and the writing life
Two weeks ago, I released my first Substack article in three months. It felt cathartic—not because I’d written anything particularly clever, but because I finally kept a promise to myself: to keep reaching my fingers out into the world of writing.
In that post, I talked about how I expected to emerge from winter with a stack of polished stories, a string of fully booked classes, and a whole lineup of manuscripts to revise.
That... did not happen.
If I were a younger writer (and let’s face it, a less-tired adult), I might’ve seen this as a failure. To quote my last post: “[A younger Gabrielle] wanted fire and productivity. She wanted word counts and polished drafts and publication announcements.”
She still does. I do.
But these days, I know it’s not always realistic.
Time, Then and Now
When I started writing at 16, my biggest concerns were whether I’d land a role in the school play or whether anyone cute noticed me at the Friday night football game. I had time—so much of it. Didn't feel like cooking? I’d magically find leftovers. Needed a break? I could nap. Felt creatively stuck? I’d walk for hours and think about how the setting sun looked like an urban mural.
In other words: my life was flexible, low-stakes, and incredibly conducive to dreaming.
Now, at 27, I’m managing a full-time job, an apartment, bills, and a schedule that actually runs out of hours. This isn’t a revelation for anyone older than me, but it’s still a shock when I glance at the clock and realize the day is done and I’ve barely put a dent in my writing goals.
What’s Really in the Way
Heather Sellers, in The Practice of Creative Writing, splits distractions into two types:
External – Noisy neighbors, pets, construction, etc.
Internal – The voice in your head that whispers: “This sucks.”
My biggest distractions are internal. Sure, I can tune out a cheering crowd and read through a football game, but I can't always silence the little voice that tells me I should fold laundry instead of write. Or clean the litter box. Or wash the dishes. Or reorganize the fridge. (Who knew adulthood would involve so much wiping?)
These distractions pile up until sitting down to write feels like entering a war zone of guilt, doubt, and domestic chaos.
The Solution: Get Out of the House
This might sound obvious, but it bears repeating:
If your home is killing your writing, leave it.
Go full cliché and be the writer in the corner of the Barnes & Noble café, sipping iced coffee with sugar-free vanilla. Find your local shop with a faux fireplace and ambient playlists. Sit at the diner counter with teeth-peeling black coffee and a Word doc open.
It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be somewhere else.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been haunting my local B&N café after work and on weekends. Sometimes, I leave feeling drunk on all the writing I’ve done. Not because I hit 2,000 words or wrote a masterpiece, but because I actually wrote. I sat down, tuned in, and connected to something deeply human.
Reclaiming Joy (and Maybe Fame?)
When I’m in that café, I’m not counting words. I’m not glancing at the clock, wondering if I’m “stealing time” from work. I’m not thinking about matching socks or the vacuum. I’m just writing.
And for those few hours, I remember why I started doing this in the first place. I remember that writing can still feel like joy. Like freedom. Like I’m making progress toward that lifelong goal of one day getting rich and famous off the fruits of my labor (hey, a girl can dream).
Try This Instead
If your current writing setup isn’t working, change it.
Don’t wait for the perfect time. Or the perfect office. Or the magical burst of inspiration.
Instead, go find the space—physical or mental—where you feel like the kind of writer who actually writes.
Because that’s what matters most: showing up, wherever you are.
