Durant Family Saga
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The Demise of the Coffeehouse

5/5/2017

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I read a great book awhile ago called The Invention of Air, by Steven Johnson. It recounts the story of Joseph Priestley, who discovered of all things, oxygen. In the book the author speculates that the Age of Enlightenment during Joseph Priestley's lifetime, came about in part because of coffeehouses. Yes coffeehouses. Because before the advent of coffeehouses, people would congregate at alehouses. And well, as might be expected, caffeine was a major contributor to the stimulating discussions going on at the time, much more so than mead. One can just imagine Priestley, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and their colleagues of the time period, all jacked up on coffee, expounding on their ideas.

"Hey, what if we put a key on the end of that kite and see what happens during an electric storm?"

 or "I wonder, if I light a candle, place it under a glass jar with a plant, will the flame go out?"

I wrote about half of my novel Imaginary Brightness, or 45,000 words at a coffeehouse in town. The other half at the library. I don't have an office at home so I need a place to go to write. But since the coffeehouse has closed down, I've had a dilemma. Where to go? Especially on a Sunday when the library is closed. I miss my coffeehouse. Every time I went in there the barista recognized me and would make me a latte with a design (see above - I took a picture of it and found it this am in my iphone).

I came to recognize the regulars, the teenagers, the tourists. One would think that there were not other coffeehouse in town. Well, there is a bakery that has great doughnuts but lacks those cozy couches, and a coffee shop that serves candy but has no place to sit. They are not A COFFEEHOUSE.

They are not a place where I could go, link to the wifi, and sit down to write, oblivious to the comings and goings around me, caught up in my own little coffeehouse world of writing. When I needed inspiration I just looked up from my laptop and looked around me. For some reason the hubbub of the crowd never bothered me. I could blot it out and write away. But now it's gone. The previous owners called it quits and the sign outside said something about turning it into a brew pub. We come full circle. I guess if I were Ernest Hemingway, I'd be glad for the change of venue.

But I'm not.


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Deciding When It's Done

12/8/2015

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At some point you've got to end it. The story that is. But when writing a trilogy what's the best end point for book two? I've never done this before. I want to keep the reader hanging on for book three of my Durant Family Saga, but haven't decided when enough is enough for book two.

I could keep writing. I'm only at page 258. But this little voice inside is telling me this is it. I've done enough. If I try to add to it I will just muck it up somehow. And besides, I want to end it on a high note. No one likes a bummer of an ending where you just want to throw the book out the window and say thanks for ruining my day.

And there is another story galloping around in my head looking for a starting gate and it has nothing to do with the Durant Family. This one is about a smuggler named Tripp Brookfield. He keeps popping into my head at random times and making his presence known. Characters can be finicky and jealous of each other. Maybe I should give the Durants a break and write Tripp's story before he gives up on me.

Yes book two. You're done. I'm sure I can do better with what I've written so far, but I'm ending you right where you are. The reader will have to wait for book three to find out what happens to Ella and William Durant, their love lives and family fortune.

Besides, I have more research to do. I have a librarian searching for Dr. Durant's last will and testament. And everyone thought he never had one...........

Amendment added 1/3/16: There is no will to be found and I went back and added a whole chapter about the nursing profession in England in the 1890s. So it really wasn't over.

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    Sheila Myers  Professor at Cayuga Community College in Upstate New York.

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