When I go through a dry spell in my writing, I find it helps to think in fives. Instead of beginning the day with a scene from my novel-in-progress, I begin with a quick exercise: write about five of something. Five books I love, five cities I’ve lived in, five dates, five meals…anything.

In her excellent and esoteric blog Writer’s Notebook, NorCal native and Paris expat Summer Brennan explains the origins of the Five Things post.

“There seems to be something about the number five that helps to give a satisfying structure, at least to the writer, if not to the reader,” Brennan writes.

With that inspiration, I’m sharing my own five things: Five Things I Love and Five I Can Do Without. (I considered calling this post “5 Things I Love and Five I Loathe.” That would have been a catchier title, but a dishonest one. There’s nothing in this list of fives I actually hate. I began with the idea of very strong preferences. Here goes: Five Things I Love, and their less lovable counterparts.

Coffee not Tea

I have a secret bias. If someone reveals that they drink tea instead of coffee, I automatically mistrust them. I don’t think they’re morally corrupt, necessarily, but I question their common sense. Fair or no, I associate tea with china cups and doilies. Ruffled lampshades. Dusty sofas in floral patterns. I secretly suspect that the majority of tea-drinkers can name the lesser royals and perhaps even recall their more questionable moments in haberdashery. (I do have dear friends who drink tea and exhibit none of these characteristics, and I fully admit my bias is not based in fact). By contrast, in my mind, a coffee drinker’s lamps give good light. Their linens are unfussy. They like to get stuff done.

Give me coffee (I wrote a whole book about it)—the stronger the better. Black, not doctored. Give me energy and focus, the noise of the coffee grinder, the oil of the beans, the straight-to-the-brain olfactory joy when you pour the ground beans into the filter basket. Give me the heat, the first bitter taste, the burn in the throat, the electric charge. Give me a really good drip machine.

I should mention my husband drinks neither tea nor coffee. He is strictly a hot chocolate man. Once, when he edited one of my novels, he replaced every mention of the male protagonist drinking coffee with the male protagonist drinking hot chocolate. Despite reservations, I let it stand. Several layperson reviewers objected. “No grown man drinks that much hot chocolate,”they said. For some readers, the prevalence of hot chocolate in the novel created a problem of verisimilitude, a corruption of the fictional dream. 

I will quote one of the reviewers, who calls herself muppetbaby99 and who writes a great blog called Doubleplusgood where she does wildly entertaining “live readings” of novels. She posted about The Marriage Pact for several days in July of 2017, right after the book came out. On the matter of hot chocolate, she had this to say:

 I think Michelle Richmond must own stock in a bunch of different ‘hot chocolate beverage flavouring chemical’ companies due to sheer number of times she mentions/describes HOT CHOCOLATE in this story. She must be getting a kick-back from Nestle

If I were the type of writer to correct readers on matters of the possible, I would have responded, “But there are men who drink that much hot chocolate. I am married to one of them!” Of course I am not that type of writer. Readers are, after all, entitled to their opinions. May they all be so lucky as fall in love with a man who is man enough to drink hot chocolate instead of coffee or tea.

P.S. I don’t own stock in Nestle BUT we do have an entire cabinet full of Benco, the French equivalent of Nesquik, which my husband buys by the case whenever he goes back to Paris.