Coffee Shop Writing Novels & Stories

The barista smiled and said, "I have no idea, but I'm sure it'll be interesting. And hey, if you ever need any more coffee or advice, you know where to find me." I smiled and said, "Thanks, I appreciate it. And who knows, maybe I'll even write a book about my experiences as a celebrity." The barista laughed and said, "Now that's a book I'd definitely read," the barista said, chuckling. "Just think of the title: 'From Writer to Celebrity: A Tale of Chaos and Coffee'." I laughed and said, "Hey, that's not a bad title! Maybe I'll have to use that."

I replied; his smile grew wider, “What’s the name?” “Sophia on the macchiato, Jesse on the frap,” I answered. He wrote the names on the cups and then sent them down the line, “How much do I-” “It’s on me.” I bit my lip a bit and smiled, “Thank you.” I stepped out of line and waited for the coffee. When they were ready, the same guy wrote something on one of the cups, “Pick up for Sophia.” He announced; I walked over to him and took the cups, “Have a great day.” I winked at him before saying,

Everytime I have a lot of time, I always go to the coffee shop as I can smell the aroma of different flavors of coffee, especially the chocolate cake, and it motivates me to write more. *** “One chocolate coffee, please,” I said on the girl, she nodded and I looked around to find a table. I went on the last table that I saw and pulled my laptop from my bag and plugged my earphone in to listen to music. I smiled on the girl who gave my order. A sweet smile suddenly appeared on my lips when I smell the chocolate coffee. *** I can’t avoid myself from smiling while I’m reading my readers’ comments from my poem earlier, even though I just published it earlier, a lot of people have read and apprec

Thankfully, there isn't a long line like usual. Samantha, the barista, greets me with a smile. "Hey Kiara, what can I get you today?" "The usual. A venti vanilla Latte. Two extra pumps of vanilla. Extra hot. Stirred. Add whip cream, please." Yes, don't judge me. I come here so often they know me by name. When you are a writer, coffee becomes your best friend. After my drink is up, I thank Samantha and sit down at our table. Candice is on her phone, and judging by the grin on her face, she's texting her girlfriend.

That just added up to my restlessness. The car stopped in front of a small but cozy cafe. The exterior was painted in plain khaki. On the foot of the brick wall were concrete boxes filled with green plants. On the top was glow in the dark neon green letters which formed the name of the cafe- Coffee and Arts. It was simple on the outside but once you step in you would want to stay forever. “Now I know why it wasn’t familiar. It’s a cafe for average people.” Her words were perfectly crafted with consonants of humiliation and vowels of boast.

It happened to me today, with him. Joe’s is where I escape into my work. I go there with my laptop and work on most days that I work from home, and most weekends. I love going there and escaping into my writing. To get lost in the manuscripts and to sip on espresso. I find it soothing to be able to watch people and get my work done. I get inspiration there. Whether I am reading a manuscript or working on my book. I absolutely love going to Joe’s. I found this coffee shop the day after Tyler broke my heart.

May as well live through the characters in the books. After a couple hours of reading. I get up throw on a simple matching brown sweat set. Grab my bag, hitting the kitchen up for a plain muffin and apple for breakfast. Setting off, for my first day. I hit up the local Coffeehouse ‘Glazes Coffee Co’. Out of the 17 coffee shops on campus this one was hands down my favourite. Tucked behind the Psychology building. It’s perfect, playing the same music I have coursing through my AirPods with the best atmosphere for studying and catching up and don’t get my started on their ham and cheese croissant it’s heaven in a box, literally. I would marry it, if I could.

Eli’s POV The coffee shop didn’t have a name worth remembering. Just a counter, a tired espresso machine, and a fluorescent light that turned everyone ugly. I liked it for exactly that reason, no one came here to be seen. They came to disappear into a laptop screen or a deadline, and the barista, a kid named Drew who never spoke more than four words to me, let them. It was almost midnight. I had a layout for a boutique skincare brand due by morning, and I’d been staring at the same composition for forty minutes, moving elements around like rearranging furniture in a room I didn’t want to be in.

Maybe it was the quiet dread of the holiday ahead, of spending two weeks in someone else’s house, and the excitement of being around people, under the same roof. One coffee. One hour. Then he’d back off. Done. “Okay,” I said quietly. Chris blinked, like he hadn’t expected it. “Really?” “Yeah, just once. Coffee. Tomorrow after my last paper. That’s it.” His face broke into a relieved, almost boyish grin. “Great. Thank you. I’ll text you the spot—there’s that place by the library with the good lattes. I’ll be there.” I nodded. “Okay.”

I trailed off. He hummed appreciatively. "What's your concept?" "Cozy spaces with fantastic coffee and pastries. Books you can borrow. The kind of place where you spend hours without feeling rushed." "If you ever manage to open one, I’ll send my staff there. We all need caffeine." He made a soft sound of acknowledgment, eyes still closed. I’d finished the photos long ago, but somehow I was still on his back, unintentionally prolonging the conversation. Pathetic.