Everyday this writer came to my tavern, took a sit in the table in front of the window, pull out a little notebook and asked me for a cup of coffee, then another, and another and it was not unit I served him the fourth cup of coffee that he would start to write.
"Have you thought about publishing your work?" I asked him one day.
"I am not ready yet " he answered me with a smile "Everyday I come here to drink coffee and to write, but inspiration doesn't hit me until..."
"Until you have your forth cup of coffee" I interrupted him, finishing the sentence for him.
"That's right! So the day that inspiration strikes me at the first cup of coffee..."
"Would be the day that you know your work is worth publishing" I interrupted him again.
"That's right!"
I turned around and came back to the bar, and the I realized that the writer was fervently writing on his little notebook and some napkins, and before I could serve him the second cup of coffee he was already gone and I've seen him in my tavern since that moment on.
Monday, December 3, 2012
166 - At the fourth cup of coffee.
The end.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
