Which I think that we all know is not 365 in a row.
When I lived in New Orleans, I had a little ritual with writing. I would go to Cafe Nicaud write for an hour, order a chicken caesar wrap, get a refill on my tea, and then write for another hour. Sometimes I would mix it up and go to a different cafe, but it was something I loved. There were no writerly type cafes in Arkansas, and while the good folks at Chili’s played southern rock and provided me with delish prime rib tacos, it just wasn’t the same.
Now that I’m in St Pete, it’s my plan to find “my” cafe. So far, I’ve found an ice cream shop, and that’s almost the same thing. The puppy notebook, that’s where I worked out a short story I just finished. I love writing it, but I’m not sure if it’s any good. We shall see!