In the back of the

cafe

there is a space that has been my favorite place to write.

Only thing is that it is hardly ever open. Still the cafe is my favorite haunt. I'll go there for a cup of

coffee

and sit around sipping it in the thick, white

ceramic

mug waiting for a spot to open up. If none does before the time my coffee is finished and placed away in the dishes bin, then I leave.

Whenever I do make my leave, I glance over my shoulder one final time by the time my hand is touching, just in case there's a spot open. Of all my years going to the cafe, I've never discovered an open seat during this final look.

If I were an

early bird

then I'd have no problem nabbing a seat daily in my favorite

Writing

spot. But I have other things I like to do during those hours so I make due with sitting in that spot only once or twice a week. It's not bad actually. My friends tell me I'm crazy because about 95 percent of my novels are written there. They wonder why i wouldn't just forego my morning routine and show up early and pump out more work.

The fleeting aspect of the spot must have something to do with how productive I am there. If you forced me to sit there and write from

9 to 5

daily then I might grow to resent the spot and may not write much at all. Or at best I might write a whole lot of garbage. It doesn't bother me at all, not being able to sit there more often because even when there's no spot available, I get to have my coffee, a quiet sitdown the front of the cafe, and I have the whole day to go anywhere else.

Matter or fact, these days I look forward to not getting a spot in the back of the cafe just as much as I do getting one.