You Were Meant to Be a Writer If…

There’s a stout, gray-haired man who’s been sitting at the same table at my local Starbucks every morning for a few months. Usually he’s alone. Sometimes someone strikes up a conversation with him and sits down. He has an accent. Whether it’s the illogical effect that accents have on us, or whether there’s something else about him that I can’t quite put my finger on, he seems wise. I have never spoken to him, but I have noticed him. Yesterday, as I was leaving the Bucks, he hurried from his table over to the counter where the barista sets the drinks and called, “Miss? Miss?” The barista gave him her attention, and he said, “The one in the yellow sweater,” and hurried back to his seat. As I exited, the woman in the yellow sweater entered. I wondered if the free coffee would surprise her. I wondered if she knew the man with the accent outside of a daily smile at Starbucks. I wondered if she would be charmed or uncomfortable. If you wonder at these kinds of encounters throughout your day, you were meant to be a writer. If you notice that hurrying to the counter seems out of character for a man, you were meant to be a writer. If you notice that the woman is sitting with him the next day, and you wonder if he has a chance with someone with cute dimples, someone a little younger than him, you were meant to be a writer. Do you wonder? Do you notice? Write it down. You are meant to be a writer. Whether your characters are as real as the hope of love blossoming at my local Starbucks or only real in your head, you are a writer. Write it all down.