Well if it is good enough for Hemingway, who am I to argue? Pardon me while I go and lock myself in my… eh, I don’t have an office. The cat is laying on my keyboard, yawning. She doesn’t know Hemingway and unless it involves a can of tasty treats, she isn’t moving.
Hemingway must have drunk coffee. Right? I mean when he wasn’t, well, drunk? Where are my keys? No one will bother me at the coffee shop. If I purchase a cup, I can sit in the corner, staring at my screen and type away.
What does your “office” look like?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer