Writing is a personal act. It’s a fight, a confrontation of the writer with the blank page. Often, this confrontation happens in the solitary confinement of an office, a library, a shack in the garden, or a cabin by a lake. It’s no secret, also, that writing is a solitary act. Until the work is published, we, authors, choose who will get the privilege of access to the pages that sprung one morning or one night from our imagination. We are very selective of who will see the words and hear the rhythm of the sentences. We are very protective of our creation, our literary baby.

Most authors write in isolation. George Simenon barricaded himself in his office and would barely come put until the work was complete. Jane Austen wrote at a tiny desk near a fireplace and by a window in the Dining Parlor of the cottage where she lived with her sister. Neil Gaiman told Tim Ferriss that his favorite place to write is in a cabin in his backyard.

However, for me, it’s different. Yes, I have my own place at home, my office, or study with a plain desk and surrounded by books. However, most of my writing, either academic or creative, is done on Friday mornings at a local CC’s, a coffee shop. There, I sit, always at the same table; a cup of Earl Grey is steeping on the left side of my table, and a croissant is waiting to be eaten on the opposite side. This is where I have my Friday morning breakfast, where I sit for three hours straight, a block of lined paper, a pencil case, notebooks and a computer are all I need. It’s a unique and inspiring setting that fuels my creativity.

The noise does not bother me. It’s rhythmic, it’s life. It invigorates me.

The other customers don’t bother me: they create in conversation, produce, and develop. They are focused, so I become more focused, too.

The smell of freshly baked coffee and pastries enhances my senses, even if I don’t drink coffee. They are my “Proust’s madeleine.”

Here, I don’t know anyone. The baristas know my face and greet me with a smile. They are familiar with my habits, but they don’t know who I am.

I isolate myself in the crowd.

Am I an anomaly in the crowd of authors?

Not at all.

J. K. Rowling wrote her first Harry Potter book at the Elephant House in Edinburgh. Ernest Hemingway penned much of A Moveable Feast at the café La Closerie des Lilas in Montparnasse, Paris. Malcolm Gladwell also mentions the benefits of being a regular at coffee shops.

I opened this article by stating that writing is a personal act; the choice of a setting is, too. Where do you write? Are you a coffee shop writer, a cabin in the woods, or a hybrid?

Let me know in the comments below.

Whatever the setting, there is no wrong place to write. It’s about finding what works best for you and your creative process.

The Table Where I write at CC’s in River Ranch.

M. D. Crackower is the author of “Strategy: A Divine Blueprint for Spiritual Battles”. Available on Amazon.com.

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