I wrote this for practice a few weeks ago, putting into a story some advice I had heard and thought was really good. 

Coffee Shop Ollie

I dipped into a graceful curtsy, catching my reflection on the spotless marble floors below me. Though my eyes still were overshadowed with grief, my face was young, and my mouth was set determinedly. I glanced up at the distinguished ambassador before me.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He extended his hand, the wrinkles around his pale blue eyes revealing his advanced age. “And may I say the same in return? You are the youngest queen I have ever met.”

I let my arm rest on the crook of his elbow as we crossed the great hall. People lined us on either side, with only the rustle of heavy silk skirts and feathery fans breaking the silence.

“Your Highness.” The ambassador bowed at the bottom step leading up to my throne.

“Thank you.” I acknowledged him, gathering one side of my dress in my hand so I wouldn’t trip on it going up the stairs.

The ambassador took a step back, melting onto the edge of the crowd as he called loudly, “Long live the queen, and may we ever serve her— Coffee!”

I jumped, sliding my laptop closed. “Excuse me?”

The cafe barista guy pushed the coffee in my face again. “You forgot this on the counter.” He smirked. “Normally, when people go into a coffee shop, they don’t forget to take the coffee.”

I reddened, reaching out to take it. “Sorry.” I breathed in the steam from the cup, and my glasses fogged over.

He shrugged. “It’s ok. Having to call you three times is a little annoying though.”

I looked away. “Sorry.” I mumbled again. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You sure weren’t—“ the guy snickered, hooking his thumb along his apron pocket . He glanced down at the cup. “—Jemima.”

I tried to hold my sigh in, but it escaped a little. I turned to him abruptly. “Ok, was there something else you wanted?” My eyes rested on his name tag. “Oliver?”

“Ugh.” he groaned, running his hand through his unruly brown hair. “Don’t pay attention to the name tag. It’s Ollie.” He slapped his hand into his apron pocket. “No, nothing. Guess I better get back to work.”

I nodded, popping my earbuds in. “Yeah, probably.” Opening my laptop again I stared at the screen, trying to figure out what I had meant to say instead of coffee in the last sentence.

Slowly I began to move my fingers over the keyboard, and slowly the story started coming once more.

Loud huzzahs filled my ears. I sat down in my throne and turned to the people.

“ I shall endeavor to rule as just and wise as my father before me. I will never hesitate to put on my armor to defend my country.” My throat grew tight, as my eyes burned. “If I can be like him, I will feel that I have done right.”

The people threw forth words of encouragement and I felt my heart growing stronger. I lifted my head higher. “Renald, please read my father’s last words to the people.”

Renald stepped forward, unfurling a paper scroll. “The late Your Majesty— God rest his soul— says the following. ‘For the people, provide continually. Seek to know their desires and troubles. Do not forget to fight to regain the lost fortune of the kingdom. When the people come to the court and say, Hey, did you want sugar—?”

“What?” I yanked the earbuds out and stared upwards. The cafe guy, Ollie, was there again, holding out five sticks of sugar.

“I said, did you want sugar? I forgot to offer it last time.”

I pressed my lips tightly together. “Um... sure. Only one.”

He handed it to me, but wouldn’t leave, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“Something else?” I moaned inwardly.

“Yeah.” He thrust a handful of creamers at me. “You might want these.”

“Right. Thanks.” I took them and lined them up alongside my laptop. “But you know I got a flavored coffee to begin with, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah.” Ollie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He grew a little pink around the ears. “Guess I was the one not paying attention this time.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. “I guess so.” I waited for him to walk off, but he didn’t. I propped my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands. What happened to peaceful cafe writing sessions?

“What now?” I wailed, my voice muffled.

Ollie chewed his lip uncertainly. “Well, I wanted to say...” he paused, then began again in a rush. “I couldn’t help noticing what you were writing, and...”

My hands dropped along with my jaw. “You’re reading it?” I screeched, hugging the laptop closer to me. A couple people turned to cast a glance our way, then resumed their own business. I felt my face burning. The line of creamers got knocked catty-wonker and I flicked them back into place.

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to. I didn’t mean to, really.” His brow wrinkled. “But I wanted to say something. Don’t take it the wrong way.” He added the last bit hastily, almost with a bit of worry.

“Ok, what?” I finally let my shoulders drop. Nobody understands writers! I thought, but letting this random coffee house guy give me his “important advice” might just make him go away.

“Well...” he shrugged again. “Maybe you should write what you feel.”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Don’t you mean the whole ‘write what you know’ line?”

Ollie shook his head. “No, because most writers don’t know much firsthand to begin with.” He grinned. “Really, I’ve seen a lot of writers in here. Just like you... music playlists, laptops, coffee. Most of them haven’t been queens, or been to space, or gotten lost in the jungle.”

He cleared his throat, continuing, while I felt the criticisms beginning to form tears at the back of my eyes. He didn’t notice, though, or if he did, he plunged straight on.

“Write what you feel. Take moments you’ve experienced and expand them, using the emotions and reactions you actually have felt. That thing there— it’s stiff and kind of cliche, don’t you think?”

“Not really.” I snapped back, my cheeks aflame and my throat scratchy. “I kind of liked it.”

Ollie cocked his head. “Well, sure, whatever. I guess, who am I to try to give advice anyways?”

“Yeah.” I echoed, still upset. He just gave a friendly good-bye wave and walked off.

I opened my laptop a crack and peered through it at the document I had open. I sighed, the sudden urge to cry beginning to melt away.

Flipping the computer open, I closed the program and dragged the file to the trash can symbol in the corner. Adjusting my glasses, I double clicked the document application and a fresh white page popped up.

Glancing over the top of my computer at Ollie, now serving coffee again at the front, I began typing.

The End



So what do you all think of "Ollie's" advice? I often feel as a writer that I should only write what I have actually experienced, which can be pretty depressing when I start thinking about it. :D But when you think about writing what you feel that changes everything. 
You can take the littlest emotions and think "What if this was on a bigger scale?". It opens your eyes to how people actually react in situations, versus how you think one should respond in a book. It gives you a chance to remember that even though we may write about fictitious characters, they should still be believable... like you or I. 

Let me know below in the comments what you think! If you like writing, has anyone ever told you to "Write what you know"? 

Have a lovely day! 
<3
Victoria

Howdy everybody! 

This is the 3rd and final installment in my short story Sunshine. Hope you enjoy!



The Rain Has Stopped

There is pounding on the door. Mrs. Jefferson’s forehead wrinkles and she gets up. “Hold on, honey, I’ll be right back.”

“Ok.” I swirl the marshmallows around in my mug.

“Mrs. Jefferson!” The familiar voice comes in short gasps. “Have you seen Emma? She’s gone, and I can’t find her anywhere!”

Mrs. Jefferson just smiles. “We’ve been having a chat.’

My heart is still. It’s Daddy, and I’m afraid he’ll cry when he sees me again. I don’t want him to be said.

I glance down at Hubert, who is sitting in my lap. “What should I do?” I whisper.

Hubert’s eyes just twinkle back at me. I feel for the heart bead inside him and squash it between my thumb and finger, holding my breath.

“But-- why--?” Daddy’s voice ends on a high, confused note.

Mrs. Jefferson says something, but I can’t hear what. She’s speaking too low.

The next minute, Daddy comes bowling into the room, sliding to a stop on his knees by my chair. I sit still, twisting Huberts ears together around his neck.

“Hi, Daddy.” I whisper, shy.

“Emma!” Daddy pants. He grabs me in his arms and crushes me against him. I feel something wet trickle down my cheek, and I can’t tell if it’s me crying or Daddy.

“Like the rain.” I choke. Daddy straightens, holding me at arms length. His eyes search my face.

“I love you, Emma.” He says. “You are my sunshine.”

My face crinkles into a grin, and I wiggle my legs.

“When you’re with me,” Daddy continues, hesitating for a moment, but going on with firm words. “The rain will stop.”  


Leave me a comment below, and don't forget to sign up for my email updates! :) 


You all have a lovely day!
<3
Victoria

Howdy! 

I'm here today with part two of three from Sunshine! Hope you enjoy!



Part Two: Marshmallows

When I get to Mrs. Jefferson’s, I’m as wet as a duckling. I am too tired to go any farther, so I knock, and sit down on her front step.

She opens it right away, looking out through the screen. “Who’s there?” she asks. When she talks, it makes me think of the creek in the summer.

“Me. Emma!” I say, looking up from where I sit. “I came to live with you.”

Mrs. Jefferson’s mouth drops. “Live with me?” she asks. Then she shakes her head. “You’re soaked, Emma. Come inside and have some hot chocolate.”

Thinking about hot chocolate gives me enough energy to make it into her kitchen. I sit down at the table and look back.

There are little puddle marks everywhere I stepped. Mrs. Jefferson bends over and wipes them up, laughing.

“You didn’t come alone, did you?”

I am still holding onto my suitcase handle. “Oh, but I did!”

Mrs. Jefferson glances up, one eyebrow touching her hairline. “Does your daddy know?”

My forehead wrinkles. “No. I decided to leave. I think I make him sad, and I want him to be happy, so I thought I’d come live with you.”

Mrs. Jefferson hands me a towel. “Dry off real good. You have clothes in that little suitcase?”

I nod.

“Good. Get changed into something warmer.” Then she goes and makes two cups of hot chocolate. I head to the bathroom.

When I come out, she is at the table with cookies and hot chocolate. “Come sit down.” she invites. “We can talk and have a little cozy party.” She smiles.

I like Mrs. Jefferson. Her skin is smooth and dark, like the night, when I am warm, curled up in my bed. Her eyes sparkle like the rain. Happy rain.

She plunks some marshmallows in my cup when I sit down. “You must be tired. It’s a long way for such a small girl.”

“I almost didn’t come, but I had already decided to.” I said, sipping my hot chocolate. It’s warm and creamy, and I think it smells like smiles and hugs.

“You are very committed.” Mrs. Jefferson agrees. I don’t know what that word is, and I’m curious, but there’s more important things to tell her.

“Daddy is always sad.” I say. My eyes fill with wetness. “I don’t know why, and I try to make him feel glad, but I can’t.”

“Oh, honey…” Mrs. Jefferson sighs. “It’s not your fault. It isn’t anybody’s fault. Your daddy is just missing your mummy.”

“She’s in my heart.” I whisper. “But I can share her with Daddy, so she is in his too, if he wants.”

Mrs. Jefferson suddenly blows her nose really hard. When she is done, the tip of her nose is red.

“Give your daddy a little time, Emma.” she encourages. “He loves you very much. He’ll feel better soon.”

I frown. “But he is always so sad when he sees me!”

Mrs. Jefferson hands me a cookie. “Its because he loves you so much, and he knows you miss your mummy too.”

It is silent in the room, but finally I speak. “I miss mummy, but you told me she is happy. So shouldn’t we be, too?”

Mrs. Jefferson folds her hands and looks down at them. She doesn’t answer for a while. “Honey, sometimes it takes older people longer to understand some things. Don’t worry, your daddy would never want to give you up.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, leaning forward. I hold my breath.

“Very sure. I promise, Emma.” Mrs. Jefferson reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine.

It is warm and comforting. Like hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.  



I'll be posting the last installation of this later this week, so be on the look out! :) 

I'm curious to hear what your favorite way to drink hot chocolate is! I like it with cinnamon, vanilla, and coconut syrup. It's so delicious and an unexpected twist on cocoa. Marshmallows are always a plus too! So let me know in the comments below how you like yours! :) 

Have a lovely day! 
<3
Victoria

P.S. If you enjoy my website/blog, please feel free to share with your friends and family! :)