Coltrane and Americano
I love to write with John Coltrane playing in the background. Sometimes it’s Antonio Vivaldi. Sometimes it’s Hazel Scott. Sometimes is Carlos Gardel. And sometimes it’s Ella Fitzgerald. But I always start with Coltrane.
My coffee is most always an Americano. Home made. Sometimes it’s a pour over. Sometimes it’s French Press. Sometimes it’s Chemex. But I will always have an Americano at some point in the day.
On hot summer days like today, I will make it iced. I might also treat myself and walk to one of two new coffee houses blocks from our house. (Gentrification has some perks).
Today, as Coltrane plays and I sip my iced Americano, I write the backstory of the protagonist of my short story. I focus only on her today.
How did she get to do what she is doing? Who was she before she came to be at the place where she is now? What is it about her past that lead her to this place in her life? What wrong turns did she take that landed her in the trouble that still awaits her?
I sip my coffee.
Coltrane soothes my mind with his bending of notes, his saxophone sings melancholic tunes.
There is something about Coltrane’s music that awakens my brain.
There is something about an Americano that keeps my mind moving.
Time to get back to my short story. Maybe I will share it when I am done.