Coffee, Cigarettes, and Muses
by Noah Zuniga
University of the Incarnate Word
Noah Zuniga is a junior at the University of the Incarnate Word. Studying to be an English major with a minor in creative writing, Noah has aspirations to be an author, and has taken many creative writing classes to further polish his craft. While he doesn’t know which career he’ll go into, he knows he wants to go into writing or editing.
Tick-tack-tick-tack-tick…
I paused from typing on my computer, taking a draw on my cigarette, and blowing the smoke out the open dorm window. I looked at what I wrote and groaned, highlighting it with the cursor, and deleting everything. I thought I was on a breakthrough on the short story I was trying to write for my university’s creative writing magazine, but in a moment of recognition, I sighed-- there was no breakthrough. I was stuck on page five of the story, the four other pages in the document staring back at me as I scrolled up to read them. I felt like I hadn't slept in days, although that was true to some extent-- in between studying for midterms, I tried writing my story with hardly a wink of sleep. A porcelain white cup of coffee with a blue ring under its lip and an ashtray of a few cigarettes was my breakfast that morning, the cigarette in my teeth being the fourth cigarette of the morning. I knew smoking was bad for me, and I knew I couldn’t, but I smoked when I was stressed, and this was one of those moments-- I knew the deadline for the magazine submissions was coming up soon, and I knew I had to have something before the deadline came. But I was just having such a hard time writing!
“Come on, damnit!” I thought to myself, “Write something!”
I was writing, or trying to write, this short story about a girl, who after witnessing the death of her sister at the hands of a crime syndicate in her town, decides to become an assassin to get back at the syndicate who killed her sister. But something about this story was difficult to write-- I had a finished prologue, I had an entire plan of where I wanted this story to go, but I just…couldn’t write it. Maybe it was because the submissions had to be a certain word limit, because more work had to go into it? But, I’ve written stories this long before, and longer-- why was this one so hard to write?
“The alarm rang out into the deathly silent apartment,” I typed on a freshly blank page, “I slammed my fist on the alarm, almost breaking it in half”
The clacking of the keyboard was the only real noise in my small dorm room, that and the hum of the mini fridge in my kitchenette and the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Once I stopped typing after that line, there was an almost eerie silence, like the clacking of the typewriter was supposed to be a constant sound protecting me from some invisible, silent evil. I paused again, and then slumped back in my chair, rubbing my eyes out of frustration-- Why couldn’t I write any of this stupid story?! I thought to myself.
My hands fell onto the arm rests of my chair. I looked up at the clock on my wall-- 10:30 am. I stretched, hearing an audible pop in my back-- I guess now was as good of a time as ever to finally get up. I stood up, pushing back my chair from where it's been sitting for the past one and a half days. I showered, doing my best to scrub out the knots in my matted, wavy short brown hair; I brushed my teeth the best I could, swigging a shot of mouthwash to mask the smell of tobacco from my breath; and slipped into some presentable clothes-- a pair of sneakers, an old Rush t-shirt I got from my dad, and a pair of cuffed jeans. Before I could slip into my jacket, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and I groaned. If she asks about her stupid party…
“Hey Jen,” I sighed, “what’s up?”
“Margo, I don’t care if you don’t want to,” Jenny said without skipping a beat, “but you’re coming to the sorority house party tomorrow whether you like it or not!”
“Jen, I can’t just drop everything and go to your party! I’ve got things to do! I--”
“Margo,” Jenny began, “or should I say Margaret, cause you like that name so much-- you are coming to my party because you’ve done nothing but study for a week straight, and haven’t socialized with anyone but me since high school! Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out with you, but you gotta meet new people girl! Take a break from studying!”
I clenched my jaw. I really hated when people called me by my full name. Only my family and whoever my future significant other would be could call me Margaret-- since my Mom hates my guts now because I majored in English instead of a going into med school or law school like her and dad respectively, and since I don’t have a significant other, no one calls me Margaret-- everyone just calls me Margo.
“I don’t need to socialize with anyone Jen,” I said, “I’ve got everything I need right here with me!”
“Uh huh, and what’s that you got there? Oh yeah, the story with the character you based off me that’s taken you years to finish.”
I groaned. When I initially decided to major in English my freshman year of college, I had started writing a story with a character I based off of Jenny, which was originally her idea. Funny enough, I ended up changing up the original story for the story I wanted to write for the creative writing magazine. I told her about the change a while ago, and she was okay with it, but wasn’t too happy about me not being finished with the story after all this time.
“Who knows,” Jenny continued, “maybe you’ll find something to write about at the party.”
“That’s the worst excuse I’ve heard to get me to go to a party.”
“Come on man! Just come to the party! Get out of your cave for once!”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Fine,” I groaned, “I’ll go to your dumb party.”
Jenny squealed in excitement, my ear ringing from how loud she was.
“6pm, on the dot, Margo!” she squealed, “Don’t be late!”
I hung up the phone-- the things I do for Jenny. I’ve known her since high school, sticking with her through thick and thin. She’s my one true friend that I’ve had in my life since high school, everyone else sort of just forgetting about me or just leaving me for someone more entertaining. Jenny knows I don’t like parties anymore, but she’s always talking me into going to them anyway; like the one time she invited me to her company’s potluck that was boring beyond belief. Since Jenny was throwing the party at her sorority house, maybe it was going to be more entertaining than playing bingo with her coworkers, but then again, it was probably going to be full of her equally excitable friends who always tired me out.
I finally slid on my jacket, grabbing my keys, and unlocking my front door, being sure to lock the door behind me-- no one’s stolen anything from my dorm yet, but I wasn’t ready to risk the generosity of the others in the dorm hall. Walking out of my dorm, I was met with the chilly winds of fall. Walking a few blocks down the street out of the boundaries of the university, I walked to my favorite coffee and donut spot-- Donuts & Go. It wasn’t super fancy like Ishmael Coffee Co. or super over the top like Dip-n-Donuts, but Donuts & Go was a no-nonsense coffee and donuts place. It was almost like an old timey 50’s diner, with a chrome finish on the outside and red leather stools near the counter-- the only semi-modern things in the restaurant were some abstract 90’s art posters hanging on the wall. As I opened the door, the smell of roasted coffee beans tickled my nose. I know that I already had coffee for my “breakfast”, but coffee and donuts were at least a bit healthier than coffee and cigarettes. There was already a bit of a line forming behind the counter when I walked in, but I wasn’t complaining. As I was waiting in line, the smell of lavender suddenly mixed in with the smell of roasted coffee. Looking at the mirror behind the counter, I saw the reflection of a cute girl behind me-- she must’ve been radiating lavender perfume. She had long, fluffy inky black hair, and wore a white blouse and a navy blue knee-length skirt, with brown stockings and black flats. A small purse hung from her shoulder, and she clutched a leather binder under her arm. She was absorbed in a conversation on her phone, her fingers dashing back and forth across the screen as she was texting someone, her boss probably. She almost looked like a librarian-- someone smart or studious, or alternatively, she must’ve been working at one of those fancy office buildings down the street, maybe as a banker or lawyer, something my Mom would’ve wanted me to be.
I paid five bucks in cash for the donut and coffee, and as I turned around with my donuts and coffee, one moment there was a flash of movement, the next, there was spilled coffee all over the ground, a leather binder laying open on the floor, scattered pieces of paper slowly fluttering through the air.
“Oh my gosh!” someone said in an English accent, “I’m so sorry!”
I groaned, I really wanted that coffee, but after all, I had the coffee mug on my desk from last night, so maybe it was better that I didn’t have another coffee. I looked up, and the girl from behind me stared at me, her blue eyes wide with fear, her hands covering her mouth.
“Oh, no worries,” I said, “it’s no biggie.”
“Here,” the girl said, “let me…”
The girl dove towards a mini counter where there were napkin dispensers and coffee stirrers, grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing the floor. Some of the papers that burst from the girl’s binder landed dangerously close to the spilled coffee, so I gathered them up as best as I could and slipped them into the leather binder. Eventually, a janitor came out from behind an “employee’s only” door and began mopping up the mess we made.
“Oh hey,” I said, handing the girl her binder, “I tried grabbing all the papers from your binder.”
“Oh gosh,” she said, “thank you so much! Sorry for the whole…”
The girl brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, her face growing a bit red as she tried coming up with an apology.
“Oh no, don’t worry,” I said, trying to keep the girl from having a panic attack,“it’s no big deal, seriously.”
“Do you…c-can I buy you another coffee?”
“Oh! I uh…I mean, I don’t mean to impose…”
“Don’t worry, it’s on me!”
The girl swiftly got back in line and waited her turn, ordering another coffee and an Earl Gray tea. As quickly as she got in line, she came back out with our drinks in hand. I tried fishing out my wallet, but the girl kept refusing.
“I said don’t worry!” she said, “It’s on me!”
I chuckled, “I don’t even know your name, and you just up and bought me a coffee-- maybe I should run into strangers more often for free coffee!”
The girl laughed a hearty, wholesome laugh. Sometimes, whenever I’d make a corny joke, I could tell when people made pity laughs, but this girl, her laugh was genuine. Somehow, I felt my heart skip a beat as she was laughing.
“My name’s Claire,” she said, holding out her hand, “Claire Hannover”
“Margo Matthews,” I said, shaking her hand, trying to keep myself from blushing.
A small chirping came from her pocket. She whipped out her cellphone, her face growing white.
“Oh crap,” she groaned, “I’m late for work!”
Claire grabbed her tea from the counter and sped out the door.
“It was wonderful meeting you Margo!” she said.
As she sped off out the door, a small card fluttered from her purse.
“W-Wait!” I called out, “You dropped your…”
I picked up the card, and again, like when Claire laughed at my joke, my heart skipped a beat. She dropped a business card with her name and number on it. I could call her…should I call her? No, she’s at work, I can’t bother her right now. Oh who am I kidding, I don’t even know anything about her other than her name! As I kept thinking about Claire, I couldn’t help but think about her last words to me before she left-- It was wonderful meeting you-- no one’s ever said that to me before. I took my coffee from the counter and then, thinking about it, groaned.
If Jenny found out I was starting to crush on someone, she was going to rub this in my face, I just knew it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tick-tack-tick-tack-tick…
I heaved a huge sigh, puffing out a cloud of smoke from my cigarette, deleting all that I just wrote from the page. Why can’t I write this stupid story?! I thought to myself. In the middle of deleting the text again, my computer froze. I was used to this happening from time to time since my computer was kind of old. After pressing the escape key a few times, nothing happened. I tried the same thing by typing ctrl-alt-delete, but the same thing happened-- nothing. In the middle of me fiddling with the keyboard, my computer screen turned blue.
“NO!” I shouted, “NO, NO, NO!”
I quickly swiped my flash drive from the computer, but I wasn’t sure if the damage was already done, but all I knew was that my computer was officially toast. There was no way I was getting the story done in time for the magazine’s submission deadline. I scoffed at myself, Jenny was going to be even more pissed that her story wasn’t going to be finished. I got up from my desk defeated, and flopped onto the couch next to my bed. I turned the TV onto PBS, watching whatever they had on this afternoon. In the middle of watching Antiques Roadshow, I took a look at the clock on my wall-- 5:30pm.
Well, I thought to myself, since I’m not working on my story any time soon, so I might as well get ready for that party.
I turned the TV off, jammed my cigarette in the ashtray on the sofa table, and made my way to the restroom to freshen up. After I finished showering, I slipped into a random graphic t-shirt with a green plaid shirt over it and jeans. I swiped around a table near the front door for my keys, but I couldn’t find them. I went to my coat rack, and pawed around my other jacket pockets, and found the keys in the jacket that I wore from yesterday. As I pulled the keys from my jacket, something else came fluttering out of the pocket with the keys-- Claire’s card. I looked at the card, and I looked at the clock on the wall-- it was after six, so she’d probably be done with work by now, wouldn’t she? No, she’s probably eating dinner right now or something, or who knows, maybe she’s working after hours or something. My cell phone rang out into the stillness of the apartment, scaring the daylights out of me.
“Hello?” I said, clutching my chest from the shock of the sudden ringing.
“Margo!” Jenny said over the phone, “I thought you said you were coming! Where are you?!”
“It’s…” I stuttered, looking back at the clock, “it’s not even 6pm yet!”
“It’s 5:40! It’s close enough!”
“Jesus Christ, I’m leaving right now-- happy?!”
“Now I am!” Jenny said, immediately changing her tone, “See you in a bit!”
I heard the audible click of Jenny’s receiver and gave a heavy sigh-- Good Christ, that girl’s impatient. I slid into the same jacket from yesterday, stuffing my keys and Claire’s card in my jacket pocket, and made my way out the door, remembering to lock up my dorm. Getting down to street level, the sun was just about to dip behind the clouds, the sky a mix of deep yellow and bright orange. Making my way across campus, I noticed how empty the university was. Sure it was after class hours, but there were still some students milling around for their evening classes. While I was alright with walking around campus with people around, I appreciated the quieter moments when there were less people around. Nearing the sports fields on the other side of campus, I turned to the right of the sports fields, making my way to the more pricey dorm apartments on campus, and where the fraternity and sorority houses were. Zeta-Nu-Chi, Jenny’s sorority house, was nestled between a grove of trees on both sides, and was the only house with a bunch of people hanging on the front porch with drinks in their hands, music blaring out the front door.
Trying to shove my way through the throngs of people, I finally made it to the front door, the music almost deafening me-- I wouldn’t be surprised if the other sorority houses started complaining about the noise pretty soon. Every seat in the sorority house was full, people splayed out on the couches and chairs, people crammed into the kitchen, and people hanging around the entryway and hallways. I saw Jenny chatting to a group of her friends in the kitchen, her blonde hair seemingly glowing in the kitchen light. She turned my way, a smile splitting across her face.
“Margo!” she said, running up to me with a red solo cup in hand, “You made it!”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m, uh…I’m here!”
“You’re going to have so much fun Margo, trust me!”
“Hey Jen, where did you uh…how many people did you invite here?”
“Oh, just whoever!” she shouted back, “Some work friends, some old high school friends, but mainly college friends and the girls-- just the whole gambit!”
The amount of people in the house definitely showed the difference between me and Jenny-- Jenny had hundreds of friends and I just had Jenny. I got a beer from an ice cooler near the kitchen, casually sipping it in the corner. I tried listening to the music that was playing from the boombox in the corner, but it was just too loud for me. I tried watching the TV from where I was standing, since the couches and chairs were already taken, but I couldn’t even hear the TV over the buzz of the crowd of people Jenny invited and the music. Even so, I didn’t know half of the people at the party, even the ones from high school, so I didn’t really want to talk to anyone. I knew I wouldn’t get any peace and quiet from hanging outside on the front porch, because everyone else had that idea when I first arrived. After standing in the corner for a while, I finally squeezed past the throngs of people, walked through the kitchen to try distracting myself with getting some snacks or something. In the middle of me looking at the selection of chips and dip, I found the door to the sorority house’s backyard. Without grabbing any chips, I let myself out and made my escape. The evening air was cool and crisp, but it seemed like someone beat me to the back porch. She had her back to the door, her long, fluffy inky black hair cascading down her back. My stomach did a somersault when I realized who beat me to the backyard.
“Claire?” I stammered, probably a little too loudly.
Claire quickly turned around, her blue eyes widening in surprise.
“Oh my gosh!” she said, a smile slowly forming on her lips, “you’re…Margo right”
“Yeah! From the Donut & Go yesterday!”
“How did you even get invited to the party?”
“I’m best friends with Jenny,” I chuckled, “we’ve been friends with her since high school. But, what about you? How do you know Jenny?”
“She was in one of my classes in university one year, and I guess I just kept her number, because last night out of the blue, I got a text from her asking if I wanted to come to her party!”
“Yeah, about that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling myself beginning to grow red, “I think you dropped this yesterday”
I pulled out her business card, though now a bit crinkled and bent. Claire had a look of confusion on her face where her smile was seconds ago.
“Where…” she said slowly, “where did you get this?”
“It feel out of your purse,” I said, “I tried calling after you, but you were already gone”
“Huh, and you didn’t think to call me?”
I knew I grew red, my face feeling warm and fuzzy. Claire laughed her bright and hearty laugh, making my face even redder.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” she laughed,“I’m just teasing you!”
I nervously chuckled, the redness in my face not going away. Out of nervousness, I pulled out my cigarette pack, but then I paused-- sometimes people will be overly adverse about me smoking, and I didn’t want to risk that with Claire.
“Oh hey, uh Claire,” I said, “do you mind if I…”
I shook the pack, the cigarettes jostling around.
“Oh,” she said, “no I don’t mind”
I pulled out a cigarette with my teeth, and lit the end of it, taking a short drag and blew the smoke out the corner of my mouth.
“Want one?” I asked, shaking the pack again.
She shrugged, pulling out a cigarette from the pack. I lit the cigarette for her, but when she took her first drag, she choked and coughed.
“Eh,” I shrugged, “smoking’s not for everyone”
She gave me her cigarette, and I flicked it to the ground, stamping it out. Jenny didn’t smoke either, so she didn’t really have an ashtray stashed out here on the porch, nor did the rest of the other girls who lived here at the sorority house. I’m sure Jenny or the other girls wouldn’t mind Claire’s cigarette butt being smashed into her deck since it looked like they barely came back here anyway.
“So uh,” I asked, breaking the ice, “where do you work?”
“Oh,” Claire said, clearing her throat, “Frasier Associates on Hunter Street-- I’m an actuary”
I knew I heard that term before, probably because it was something mom wanted me to do, but I still wasn’t clear on what they did, but I was sure they earned a lot of money.
“How about you?” Claire asked, “Where do you work?”
“Um…” I said, “Gregory’s, the grocery store down the street from the university”
“Doesn’t sound too bad; like my father always says, ‘any work is good work’”
Claire suddenly grew silent, something about mentioning her dad struck a bad chord in her.
“So uh,” I said, trying to change the subject, “did you always want to be a…a whatchamacallit…actuary…person?”
Claire sighed, crossing her arms-- oh boy, that didn’t help.
“No,” she said, “I wanted to go into art school, learn painting and such, but my parents didn’t see any benefit from it. My father wanted me to work for his company, and that I’d get more money there than making art.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I know a little what that’s like too-- my mom’s the same way.”
“Does she not like you working at Gregory’s?”
“No, she just doesn’t like what I’m majoring here at school-- I’m majoring in English, but she wanted me to go into med school like her, or into law school like my dad. I’ve been writing a story for the creative writing magazine here at the university, cause that’s what I want to do-- be an author and write stories-- but I couldn’t seem to finish it, and right as I’m writing it today, my computer crashes. Maybe it’s just a sign from the universe or something for me to just…give up, or switch majors or something”
There was a deafening moment of silence between us, a deep pit formed in my stomach when I realized I might have soured the mood by venting about my frustrations. I nervously took a drag on my cigarette, waiting to see what Claire would say.
“Well, who cares what your mother thinks?” Claire said, “If this is the path you want to make for yourself, then keep going! Keep writing your story for the school’s magazine!”
“Slight problem,” I said, “the deadline’s coming soon, and I don’t have a lot of time-- I don’t even have a computer to write with!”
Claire paused, almost shocked that I interrupted her.
“I’m trying to give you a pep talk here!” she joked, “Stop souring the mood!”
I bursted out laughing, probably the first time I’ve done so in a while. Wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, Claire’s face grew red as she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I mean it,” she said, “I know I’m not really one to talk, but if this is your dream, don’t give up on it!”
“I guess I’ll keep going then,” I said, “gotta show my mom I can get something published”
There was more silence between us, but after breaking the ice, we ended up talking for hours. I didn’t even bother looking at my phone to see what time it was, but I could tell it was getting later and later based on how the sky went from dark orange and purple to inky black like Claire’s hair.
“So you’re telling me that you actually like sardines on pizza?!” Claire said at one point, shocked that I would like such a thing.
“It’s better than pineapple on pizza!” I said half laughing, “I can tell you that much!”
“Pineapple is clearly better on pizza! It’s the combination of the sweetness of the pineapple and the saltiness of the cheese!”
“Sardines are clearly better on pizza because…well, they just are!”
Claire laughed her hearty laugh again. The times that she’s laughed when we’ve been talking on the back porch, her smile almost seemed to make her glow. I couldn’t help but stare at her, enthralled at her happiness and joy at such a dumb joke.
“Oh, there you are!” a voice said, “And here I thought you up and ditched the party for your stupid story!”
Jenny came out to the deck, lugging a trash bag over her shoulder.
“You’re…taking out the trash?” I said.
“Duh! It’s not like any of the girls were going to do it! The party’s over anyway”
I whipped out my phone, checking the time-- 10:30pm! Me and Claire have been out here for hours!
“So this is where you’ve been this whole time, huh?” Jenny asked.
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, “I guess I finally found someone interesting to talk to.”
“Sheesh! Talk about salt in the wound!”
Jenny went to the side of the sorority house, tossed the trash bag in one of the bins, and huffed back inside for the other trash bags.
“Hey Margo,” Claire said softly, “I’m going to have to head home, it’s getting a bit late”
“Alrighty,” I said, “I’m going to have to stick around and help Jenny clean up anyway”
“I enjoyed hanging out with you today, it was really fun”
I smiled, my face growing red again.
“I…had fun too” I managed to say.
We stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to do. I didn’t know if I should give Claire a goodbye hug or something, or if she’d be creeped out by that. But it seemed like Claire decided for me, moving in for a side hug. I hugged her, a whiff of her lavender perfume filling my nose, just like yesterday morning.
“Goodnight Margaret,” she said, “if you do write something for your magazine, can you send me a copy?”
I was so shocked that Claire even knew my real name to even respond.
“I uh…” I stuttered, “u-uh…sure!”
Claire smiled and waved goodbye, and just like she did yesterday morning, she sped off out through the door. I stood rooted in the spot-- she called me Margaret. I wasn’t…mad about it, but how did she know my name? Jenny came back from inside her sorority house with a new bag of trash.
“So…” Jenny said with a slight smile, “who’s she?”
“I uh,” I stammered, “you invited her, you should know who she is!”
She smiled a devilish smile. I’ve seen this kind of smile once before when she planned to get back at one of her ex-boyfriends for cheating on her, but for some reason, there wasn’t any malice behind her smile, it was more like she knew something I didn’t.
“I do, Margaret” she said, heaving the trash bag over her shoulder.
In a split second, the gears came into place.
“You didn’t…” I said, my face growing red again, “you told her my real name!”
She laughed as she went to the side of the sorority house again, and I was left fuming on the porch. Then, I realized something-- I remember what Jenny said yesterday morning-- Who knows, maybe you’ll find something to write about at the party. I smiled.
That was her plan all along…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The deadline for the magazine submission was upon me, or at least, not until one in the afternoon.
I left my old computer in my dorm room, hoping to deal with it later. Holding my flashdrive in my hand like an injured bird, I made my way to the computer lab at my university’s library-- hopefully I could write something with enough time to send in my submission. Trekking not as far across campus than I did last night, I pushed open the wooden doors of the library. I found the door for the stairs, and went down to the basement where the computer lab was. I haven’t been down here in ages, maybe since my freshman orientation, but all I knew was that there were computers down here, and I desperately needed a computer right now. I signed in with the little old receptionist lady, and chose a computer. I plugged in my flashdrive, and clicked on it, holding my breath. The flashdrive flashed to life, and everything that was on it was still miraculously there. I felt like cheering, but I’d probably be kicked out for that. Instead, I moved my mouse to click on the story I was working on when my computer crashed. But before I clicked, I stopped-- should I even continue with this story? I knew I had to work on something; the deadline was only in a few hours! I sank into my chair, my heart dropping-- this was going to be impossible. But then I remembered last night, I remembered hanging out with Claire.
“If this is the path you want to make for yourself, then keep going!” I heard her voice say.
And at that moment, I had an idea. I created a new document, and started typing. By the grace of God, or the universe, or someone, I typed, and kept typing! The words were coming out of my head and through my fingers. I chuckled to myself when I finished the first sentence-- I think I’ve got a story now! All that’s left is to keep writing! After all, I’ve got a magazine copy to deliver!
“Tick-tack-tick-tack-tick…I paused from typing on my computer, taking a draw on my cigarette, and blowing the smoke out the open living room window.” I wrote. “I looked at what I wrote and groaned, highlighting it all with the cursor, and deleting everything.”
Tick-tack-tick-tack-tick…
Interview with the Author
1. What inspired you to write this piece? What was your thought process throughout?
I originally wrote Coffee, Cigarettes, & Muses for a previous creative writing class, and only wrote it because I was having difficulty coming up with a story I wanted to write about. In a way, I was inspired by my own difficulty in creating a story to create the story I did.
2. What do you hope readers will take away from your piece? What effects do you want the piece to have on the person, community, or society?
I don’t really expect readers to take anything away from the story, as I didn’t really intend for there to be any meaning behind it-- but if I did, it’d be that inspiration can sometimes come from the most random places.
3. What is your favorite piece of fiction (short story, novel, flash fiction, etc.) that you’ve ever read? Why?
My favorite novel is Clockwork Angels by Kevin J. Anderson and Neil Peart. It’s one of my favorite novels primarily because Peart is the drummer for Rush, which is one of my favorite bands, and the novel itself is a companion to the band’s album of the same name. The other reason Clockwork Angels is my favorite novel is because the journey of the main character, Owen Hardy, is somewhat relatable to me-- the journey of someone who wants to experience the world, but doesn’t have any idea what the world has in store for them.
4. If you plan on continuing to write, what are some goals/plans you may have for your future?
I’m currently in an advanced creative writing class where me and my classmates are slowly developing our own novels, but only the first three chapters. My plan for the future is to finish the novel and find a way to publish it.