I have an unusual work schedule. Early in the evenings, when people are arriving home from work, I'm usually starting the day off, taking the subway to my night job shift. I do work during the day, but whatever it is that I'm working on, I tend to do it from home. Over the past several months I've also been writing a short script, and I've tried to balance my schedule as best as possible to leave a couple of hours a day to brainstorm story ideas. I always aim to keep a calm work environment in my apartment, but sometimes, no matter how focused I am, I still perceive an uneasiness around me (the neighbor's blaring television, construction work outside) which, inevitably, leads to a great deal of irritation.
About a month ago, I reserved an entire day for scriptwriting. I had to work at night, but for the entire day, I planned to have no distractions and no pressing engagements to deal with. However, at the last minute, I had to contend with the fact that the cleaning lady was stopping by the apartment in the afternoon, and so, I had to find another place to lay low and write. This was an ideal moment for procrastination. My inner voice tempted me - It's a lost cause, buddy. Just go to a matinee showing before work. You can write some other day. I carefully weighed this option. After all, I didn't have a lot of time on my hands before my evening shift. How much writing could I realistically get done? At some point I realized that I wasn't going to make it to the film and had to settle for roaming around the city looking for something to do. Since I've been trying to restrain myself on weekly expenses, I did not want to do something that would make me squander money easily, so I opted to spend my afternoon brainstorming ideas at Barnes & Noble.
When I arrived at the bookstore, I immediately headed to the cafe, where people were doing the same thing that I had in mind - looking for some peace and quiet. I swiftly snagged a table and plopped down with an iced coffee, a muffin and my notepad. However, curiosity got the better of me very quickly, and my gaze began to drift towards the people around me. Most kept to themselves, studying or eating a snack - but then I noticed a few that stood out. Next to me, a balding short man with a gray beard - wearing a brown suit and glasses - chatted with a thirty-something young woman. As I watched the bespectacled man, the voyeur in me immediately perked up. The man was only a couple of feet away, yet he had no idea that I was scrutinizing his rapport with the woman. Was he her father? A close family friend? Maybe a college professor, desperate to get into her pants? Perhaps he invites her on these supposedly platonic "coffee dates" to talk about her graduate work on Nietzsche, but deep down he just wants to ditch his dull, overweight wife - who doesn't even find him sexually arousing anymore - and delve fully into a torrid affair. My mind quickly let loose a variety of case scenarios, all of which made me feel surprisingly giddy that I was relishing this so much. I couldn't stop jotting down notes, one right after the other. Although I wasn't working on my script revisions at that moment, I was still nevertheless coming up with new, totally irrelevant 'character situations' that could serve as fodder for future story concepts. The scenarios I imagined in my head were unrealistic, but my imagination conceived them because, to me, it fit with the pair's demeanor and body language.
As the "college professor" and his "desired female companion" carried a low-key interaction, I re-directed my attention towards other tables throughout the cafe, to other people reading magazines and writing on their laptops...until I spotted a young man and woman passionately arguing with each other. The man, dressed all in black and looking like a beat poet, gesticulated wildly with his hands as the woman locked eyes with him and tried to calm him down. She never withdrew her gaze - always staring into his eyes with concern and compassion - while he looked everywhere except into her eyes. What I found most surprising about their very dramatic interplay was that no one reacted to them at all. There was palpable tension between the couple, as if he were concealing something from her and was trying to disregard it by feigning outrage. In return, the woman was oddly calm and in control, and exuded a great deal of power just by her demeanor alone. Once again, my imagination ran wild - what were they arguing about? Why was the man lashing out at her so angrily? Why was the woman so calm and collected? These questions kept recurring in my head like a mantra. Perhaps one possible reason why the man behaved this way was because he truly believed in what he was arguing about. He had no qualms about gesticulating like a maniac in front of total strangers because, to him, he was 100% in the right about the opinion he was expressing to the woman. He was going to protest and bicker as much as possible, judgmental people be damned. The louder he argued, the more genuine and truthful he probably thought his words would sound. On the other hand, the woman seemed to be very aware of her surroundings and barely responded to the man's entire rant. She wasn't in the mood to pontificate - only to exude a silent resolve and a cool demeanor.
I spent over two hours sitting at that bookstore cafe. At no point during those two hours did I feel the least bit bored or disinterested. A day that began with me having a procrastinating attitude about my work resulted in a surprisingly productive and enriching afternoon. Not only did I effectively come up with new story concepts to toy around with, but I did so by simply watching everyday people do ordinary things. It made me realize that, when all creative vestiges dissipate, it's useful to forget whatever illusory idea you're "chasing," go straight to the dramatic source and just observe people in their own environment.
Now, if I could just focus on my script from here on out...
