Appletree Books (one)

That's me in the corner.

No, when I originally signed up to participate to write in the front window of Appletree Books on Cedar Road in celebration of NaNoWriMo, I did not imagine it would be seventy-five degrees, nor that the Cleveland baseball team would be one win way from the World Series. Honestly, I would rather have taken up my friend's invitation to enjoy a little of that energy over a cocktail at Hodge's or a beer at Parnell's.

Instead, I am sitting in the window of Appletree Books. Trying to write.

It's a little warm, but at least the front door, which is right next to me, because I am sitting in the front window, is open. I like the sound of the end-of-day-traffic. I also like to watch the people walking by. They smile. Why not? It's seventy-five degrees out and we are in the World Series and there's this guy, typing in the window of the bookstore. What's not to smile about?

Maybe that Donald Trump has a strong chance of winning the election one week from today. Try not to think about that. There is writing to be done.

I have also signed up to write in the window at Appletree Books in three weeks, when there may very possibly be snow on the ground. Not only within the bounds of possibility, that is a thing that happens here.

Sunset over Cedar Road

Anyhow, these are anxieties I have brought with me, and I am working to purge them now, in these first few minutes, because I actually like being here. My tiny space, set up high from the sidewalk, in plain view, creating.

What must they think? My God, what is that? That is a writer, my boy! Perhaps he is working on a novel, or if nothing so grand or important, we may assume he is perhaps writing a play. He looks far too approachable to be a poet.

Except I'm not. I am writing a blog. Ye gods, avert your eyes, my son. No one wants to see that shit.

I like this chair, it keeps my posture straight.

Okay, enough. There's a play to be considered.

Many thanks to the folks at Appletree for setting this up. See you on Tuesday, November 22.