Late afternoon—the sun is low in the western sky but still bright on the upstairs deck at Caffe Calabria. All around me are lush green plants, flowers bloom happily in their pots and baskets, a climbing vine clings to the side of the building, clumps and bumps and curious creepers edging higher along the walls.
I am alone on the narrow deck, three empty tables beyond mine, a white cushioned bench along the far wall beyond the heaters which may be used later. On the patio below a man and woman eat their pizza, their baby in a stroller next to them makes baby sounds. It’s not their pizza I smell, but the just-being-baked ones from downstairs. Downstairs the cafe is beginning to fill with early Saturday diners. I’ve come not for dinner, but for a late afternoon iced coffee. Caffe Calabria really does have the best coffee in my neighborhood and my neighborhood has at least six other cafes to choose among, though this late in the day most have already closed.
This is Bilbo, my friend Camille’s puppy. Bilbo is the son of a rescue dog and a mysterious stranger (I could make up stories). Now nearly six months old, Bilbo came to live with Camille when he was but eight weeks old. Bilbo is funny, charming, and eighteen pounds of pure love. He didn’t hesitate one minute to anoint me with puppy kisses when we met outside the Charlotte airport where Camille picked me up, a blessing he continued to shower me with whenever we were within tongue-licking distance. I’m in love.
First-draft writing doesn’t have to be good, it won’t always be good, and even when it is good, among the good will be some not-so-good. For many writers, understanding and accepting this has a powerfully freeing effect. Writing teacher and author Natalie Goldberg says, “You’re free to write the worst junk in America.” Anne Lamott also has a name for that rough stuff we all write. She calls it “shitty first drafts.” It’s the swampy, mucky stuff that holds little promise for happily-ever-after, and almost every writer experiences a day when muck is what gets written.