I’ve kept a journal since the 5th grade. I work out first and then go to a cafe to write. My first writing spot was The Dipsea Cafe in Mill Valley, California. I would order iced tea, eat a pancake, write in my journal, see George Lucas eating alone, and then drive into San Francisco to work at The Bay Club.
When I moved into the city and lived in the Marina, my writing place was Rose’s Cafe at the corner of Union and Steiner. When my husband and I moved to Los Angeles, I was lost until I discovered Cafe Midi on La Brea. I did not live near Cafe Midi. We lived in Los Feliz (Griffith Park area). However, immediately upon entering, I knew I was home. Cafe Midi was tucked in the back of Maison Midi, an incredible housewares store. The food was amazing. The chef, Edouard Moyal, originally from Morocco, brought a contemporary French/American flair to the extensive menu. They opened at 10 AM when the housewares store opened, and I was usually the first to arrive.
When I sit down to write, an order of mental clean-up is necessary to get to the heart of things. First, I write the top thoughts in my head. These consist of what I have just done and will be doing next. The next level is to write more deeply about what I am feeling, hoping, or worrying about. If I stay long enough and the cafe starts to fill with people, I will start to notice the interactions around me. Even though I am sitting in one place, there are a lot of life events that happen there.
This is all I wrote about this quite incredible life event. What are the chances that when I am writing someone’s name, they call my cell phone, and what are the chances of this timing after 17 years of not being in touch? Four months later, this happened:
I hope, at some point, the woman could laugh at the horrible timing. Maybe when they got to the car, they talked and laughed about this shocking event and decided not to separate. I will never know.
One day, I was there at a very busy time after a commercial audition for Bob Evan’s Restaurants, an American food chain. I hadn’t been sitting there long, so I was in the first phase of writing a recap of my day, where sentences were short and to the point.
A woman next to me asked, “Are you a writer?”
“No, I’m an actor,” I responded.
A disgust swept across her face, and she looked at my face carefully.
“No. You are not an actor. You are a writer. I know these things.” Then, she grabbed my journal and began reading.
I looked to her husband for help, and he smiled, shrugged, and said, “She knows these things. She’s a producer—very successful producer.”
I sat there, paralyzed. She read the full page, handed me the journal, and declared, “You are a writer. I like your style. It's efficient and gives me a distinct feeling. Bob Evans, I’ve worked with him; good, he liked you, strange man.” She looked at her husband and said, “Let’s go.”
“We’ll get your lunch,” he said, and they left. This is a portion of what she read:
As I started delving into my old journals, it’s been quite a journey. I don’t feel I’ve changed much all these years.
I started with my 5th-grade handmade journal titled “My Secret Book.”
My goal was to write daily for the rest of my life, or at least until the end of the journal pages. I did not succeed. There are many empty pages in that journal, and every single journal since. I NEVER use up the last pages. I tore out the last pages in a few journals to make myself feel I had used every page.
Maybe I will never write on the last pages of my journal because I don’t want to have a last day. Maybe it’s an Irish tradition to never write on the last page of a journal, or surely that day will be your last.
Till Tomorrow…
This made me laugh! The Cafe Midi scenes! Ha! Imagine grabbing someones journal! As crazy as she was, she was right. You are a writer and I like your style.
The Secret Book.... a treasure. I wish I had one! Yes never let the last journal page be completed... you never know....
The battle of the boys! I love seeing how your wee mind was processing and finding language to express the world as you saw it. Hmm maybe I need to give journaling another go.