There’s something to be said for the wonders of coffee.

Every morning when I wake up early, drag myself out of bed, and head out the door for another long day of classes and work, I stress prevent by telling myself that, if I don’t have enough energy to make it through the day, a cup of coffee is always at hand. And it is. I can buy it at the library, I can snag some at home, I can get some in the Languages and Literature building, or the main campus hub.

As a writer, I feel the same way. On those rare, glorious days that I know I have time to work on my manuscript, or a short story, or whatever it is I’m writing, the plotline looming large before me full of potential and a slight amount of pressure (will it still be good? am I good enough to publish?), I know I can always take a break and have a nice cup.

Now if only coffee could give me about twelve more hours in a day. That would be something.

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