I have writers block.
Okay, I should probably explain myself. I am a writer.
Well its more like I would like to be a writer.
Unfortunately, my brain does not possess this talent and I am here, stuck in a coffee shop because I heard that's where Joanne Rowling wrote "Harry Potter."
But, now that I look around I can't help but notice the clear boundaries between strangers in a coffee shop, in which only waitresses can cross. Even then, for a short period of time.
Maybe half of us here are on either our laptops or cell phones.
One quarter are writing or drawing in a notebook.
While the rest are either on dates or trying to work but now realizing a cafe my not be the right space for them.
Not like I can blame them, I'm wedged in a corner with a cup of black tea. But I am surprised by the amount of couples in this shop.
While I look around, I'm half expecting a bright yellow or red or blue coat whir by save me from my blank mind (and page), by spilling something hot on someone, or by slipping into the seat next to me and starting a almost rehearsed conversation.
Of course, that doesn't happen.
But as the seconds tick by I see the crowds of people outside, by the window I'm leaning against, sway (or are they dancing?) in unison. My head perks up untilI realize that it was just a few girls bending down to pick up a flyer on the floor.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
Again, I turn around and swear I see Jane Bennet buying a frappe with a sad looking child by her side.
By now, I can tell that my brain playing tricks on me, probably to stimulate some kind of creativity burst so I can finally write something down.
After a few moments and writing "writing prompt" on the top of the page, I suddenly have the urge to laugh at this whole situation.
I am in a cafe because of Harry Potter and then see Jane Bennet buying coffee.
Creativity has been in my head all this time. It's in my head right now.
Or maybe I'm just going crazy.