Love it! Just enough info in the eavesdrop. And my longest fiction manuscript so far is … about 2400 words. I can do short form pretty well, and I’m stretching stories as my skill improves.
My therapist says I am what’s called a “clean inbox” person. Turns out barista may not be the best job for me. I don’t mind the work. The drudgery. The burned fingertips. The pumpkin spice burrowing into your sinuses like a tapeworm. The creeps. I moved my nametag to my shoulder to remove one alibi for the leerers. But the lines get to me. I know I shouldn’t care. One customer at a time. That’s my job. Bite sized pieces. Just do my best until my break or shift end. But I can’t help OCDing over slaying that line. That regenerative beast. It’s like a starfish, every time I make a dent it grows a new arm. I look out over the shoulder of the guy at bat and deflate at the thought of the incoming tide beating relentlessly at my shore. The saints keep marching in. I know It’s not my job to have zero people waiting. But a girl can dream. Wouldn’t that be bliss? Clean, clear lobby. Empty space. A customer rolling in able to stride uninterrupted right up to the register. A pipe dream. A unicorn. Once I got close. During a twister. Of course, Geoffrey wouldn’t close early. Just two hardy souls jonesing for a Java, maybe their last if Mother Nature didn’t abate. As the second and final caffeholic edged towards me I almost swooned at the gorgeous chasm of yawning space behind him. I lost my head and gave him a freebie just to hustle him along. Told him he was our millionth visitor. I scanned Nirvana, no hands on deck. Until he was back in my grill asking for a napkin. By then the door had dinged and fresh troops were deployed. Back into the fire I went. They don’t pay me enough for this shit.
Some waiters eventually become writers....
Love it! Just enough info in the eavesdrop. And my longest fiction manuscript so far is … about 2400 words. I can do short form pretty well, and I’m stretching stories as my skill improves.
I have the same problem--I have optimized for shorter form and am working on pushing that limit. Keep going! Substack is the perfect place for it!
It does seem to be! Always tough getting eyes and useful feedback, but with lots of work here you can pick up a few great comments & critiques.
I can relate to the barista all too well, lol. I don't have a formal manuscript. I just have chapters written on Google Docs organized in folders.
Love this. Here’s my quickie.
Line Remover
My therapist says I am what’s called a “clean inbox” person. Turns out barista may not be the best job for me. I don’t mind the work. The drudgery. The burned fingertips. The pumpkin spice burrowing into your sinuses like a tapeworm. The creeps. I moved my nametag to my shoulder to remove one alibi for the leerers. But the lines get to me. I know I shouldn’t care. One customer at a time. That’s my job. Bite sized pieces. Just do my best until my break or shift end. But I can’t help OCDing over slaying that line. That regenerative beast. It’s like a starfish, every time I make a dent it grows a new arm. I look out over the shoulder of the guy at bat and deflate at the thought of the incoming tide beating relentlessly at my shore. The saints keep marching in. I know It’s not my job to have zero people waiting. But a girl can dream. Wouldn’t that be bliss? Clean, clear lobby. Empty space. A customer rolling in able to stride uninterrupted right up to the register. A pipe dream. A unicorn. Once I got close. During a twister. Of course, Geoffrey wouldn’t close early. Just two hardy souls jonesing for a Java, maybe their last if Mother Nature didn’t abate. As the second and final caffeholic edged towards me I almost swooned at the gorgeous chasm of yawning space behind him. I lost my head and gave him a freebie just to hustle him along. Told him he was our millionth visitor. I scanned Nirvana, no hands on deck. Until he was back in my grill asking for a napkin. By then the door had dinged and fresh troops were deployed. Back into the fire I went. They don’t pay me enough for this shit.
That guy is Not a True Midwesterner. Also I love the way you described the writer getting into her story. I try to picture my characters too! Classic.
1) I haven't as of yet, unless you count the paper route I had way back when.
2) I have a pirate novel in my to-edit pile that's 43,552. I tend to aim for the 50K range, an old habit from when I did NaNoWriMo.
3) Yes. I do. I really do, and I worry that I've been unintentionally rude to someone constantly.